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The Bhagavad-gítá; or a discourse between Kṛiṣhnạ and Arjuna on divine matters
by J. Cockburn Thomson
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Excerpt:
0N THE 0RIGIN 0F PHIL0S0PHICAL IDEAS IN INDIA.
When we strive to furnish a definition of the meaning of the word "Philosophy," we are startled at the difficulty of the task. We are met by one of those many abstract ideas which cannot be handled, or reduced within the narrow circle which a definition requires; one of those vague expansive conceptions which belong only to a high state of civilization, and which if they existed at all in the mind of the past did so as mysteries only, and found no words by means of which they might be vulgarised for the use of a licentious world. The word 'philosophy' has a far narrower and better defined meaning in the distant past, in the rude methodical school-days of mankind, than in the present age. And this meaning is sufficiently demonstrated in its very etymology, to which we • are compelled to have recourse.
There are few countries, among all that can boast a literature, where philosophy has developed itself clearly, independently, and, so to speak, spontaneously; and demanded for itself a name. Perhaps Greece and India may be considered as the only two such, and the philosophies of other nations may be looked upon, either as the offspring of these, or as a species of religious mysticism. Under the former we may rank all the modern European schools: under the latter the great systems of China, Persia, Syria, and Egypt. In India and Greece, then, the names for philosophy have the same meaning—' the desire for knowledge'—<£t\o<70</>ta. and jijndsd; and in them we find a true definition of its origin and original form. It is the dawning consciousness of the power of the intellect, which, blushing at its ignorance and its blind belief, urges the search after hidden and unknown truth through the immediate channels of internal investigation, rather than the surer but more tedious path of established science.
The birth of Philosophy is an era in the annals of every people; and the enquiry as to the causes of its origin is inseparable from the investigation of their religious and social history. Thus the history of most nations is divisible into three great periods, which serve alike for their religious and social peculiarities; 1st. The age of Barbarism; 2nd. The age of Mysticism; 3rd. The age of Investigation. Let us examine these briefly.
1st. The age of Barbarism. When man went forth from Ararat and spread himself over the face of the earth, little was left him but instinct and conscience. Instinct prompted self-preservation, and this again suggested invention. Hence the origin of useful arts. According to the nature of the climate, and the soil to which he wandered, he became husbandman or shepherd. Choice would send him to the pleasant district which could be tilled, necessity drive him to the mountain, or the wild plain, where cattle would yield him equal support. But in either case he was dependent on nature. If a husbandman, earth afforded him grain, which he laid in her bosom, and left, as it were, to her to foster; while, when the grain sprung up, sun, rain, and air, as he soon discovered, were necessary for its growth. If a herdsman, his flock no less required water to drink and warmth to cheer them; and the air or wind could counteract the excesses of both, could cool the heat of the one, and dry the land when deluged by the other. Thus he felt his dependence. Sun, wind, and rain, were necessary for his happiness, and even for his support; but they were above his control, and seemed to favour him at their own will. He felt that they were his superiors, and their spontaneous action suggested the idea of their personality. The elements and the common phenomena were deified. But how to propitiate them, how to make the clouds rain, the sun shine, the wind blow; when his crops, his herds, or himself required it? If his fellow-man were to be conciliated, and won to perform some act of favour, the request must be preceded with the indulgence of some wish of the other's, a gift must be offered. A gift, therefore, should be offered to the elements, and, forsooth, the best that might be. Hence the origin of sacrifice. But if the gift were wanting, instinct had already taught him the power of flattery, and hence the origin of hymns of praise. Prayer naturally followed these, and we have thus a complete system of Element-worship. But while this was the work of instinct, conscience was not quite forgotten, though man's natural selfishness had led him to put it aside. Conscience taught him that there was some unseen, unknown, Almighty Being in and out of the world. Some one to create himself, some one to create the world around. Some one to bring death, and to receive him after death, and accordingly the notion of a Supreme Being took root deep in the mind, though always with mystery and uncertainty. This, then, constitutes the religion of the Barbarian age of most nations, and to this may the most complicated mythology, the most superstitious mysticism of after ages be reduced—the worship of the elements, and the idea of a Supreme Being.
2nd. The age of Mysticism. But as civilization progressed, when the city rose from the village, and arts became more and more polished, the elements, which had been all in all to the rude countrymen, were useless to the civilian. Every calling had now its patron, which, were he an element, an historical personage, or merely an abstract idea, was equally deified. Self-interest demanded a supernatural guardian for each man's vocation. The soldier must have a god of war, the sailor personifies and propitiates the storm and the waves, the woodman cannot be alone in the huge forest rustling around him, and peoples it with sylvan beings. Hence the origin of Polytheism and Hero-worship. But the dawn of civilization is also the age of poetry. It is not till man is severed from nature, that he loves and learns to imitate her, to dream of her, and picture her in glowing colours. The rustic may mingle rude verses in his village dance, and the savage warrior chant fierce couplets of war, but though these will possess a physical and majestic power, they will not be that poetry which touches the heart with its softness, and inflames it with its fancies. The true birth of poetry dates in every country from the first dawn of civilised life. And this poetry exercises a powerful influence on the religion of the people. It seizes greedily on all that is ideal; all, too, that is ancient. Tradition has an untold charm for it, and it blindly receives the errors of the past, for the mere sake of their antiquity. Thus the idea of a great invisible Supreme Being comes prominently forward, and the worship of the elements, no longer the simple, selfish, but necessary faith of the shepherd and husbandman, is incorporated with this spiritual idea, and they themselves invested with mystic personality. Hence we find in so many countries the notion of a Trinity in Unity, superior to all deities; and even where this distinct notion is wanting, as perhaps in the western mythology, the elements have still lent their character to the chief of gods. Jupiter has become at once the giver of life and warmth, the lord of thunder and of rain.
But the idea of a deity once removed from the visible to the invisible —from the actual to the ideal—poetry—imagination—does the rest. A complete theogony and a world of gods is soon established. Man's relation to the superhuman world is now, too, placed on a different basis. Where before the gods were propitiated with an express selfish interest, they now claim worship as their due, and promise little in return. Something, however, must be promised, or their worship would soon fall into disuse and contempt; and the reward offered is an equally ideal one, that of happiness after death. But the hope of an uncertain future is not a sufficient encouragement; some punishment must be added to frighten man into the worship of the ideal and invisible; and the punishment is misery hereafter. These inventions, which follow in a natural course upon the worship of ideal deities, are supported and developed by the priesthood, a class which has arisen in every country at a very early period, from the practice of performing sacrifices by proxy to the elements and primitive deities; and who, when once established, lose no means of keeping the religion they administer ever before the minds of its followers. Hence the first ideas of right and wrong, future punishment and reward; and hence too the first dawning notion of the immortality of the soul. In manners, then, this is the age of early civilization and commerce, of the establishment of government, and the administration of justice; inliterature, it is the age of the Lyric and Epic; in ideas, the age of superstition and mythology, of the establishment of a religion and a priesthood, of invention and imagination.
