these primitive heroic poems, and the works of Calidas and other contemporary poets-the dif ference is at least as great as that which exists between Homer and Theocritus, or the other Bucolic poets of Greece. The oldest of the two epic poems of the Indians, the Ramayana, by the poet Valimki, celebrates Rama, his love for a royal princess, the beautiful Sita, and his conquest of Lanka, or the modern Isle of Ceylon. Although in the old historical Sagas of the Indians, we find mention made of far-ruling monarchs and all-conquering heroes, still these traditions seem to show, as in the instance first cited, that in the oldest, as in the latest times, prior to foreign conquest, India was not united in one great monarchy, but was generally parcelled out into a variety of states; and this fact serves to prove that such has ever been in general the political condition of that country. The whole body of ancient Indian traditions and mythological history is to be found in the other great epic of the Indians, the Mahabarata, whose author, or at least compiler, was Vyasa, the founder of the Vedanta philosophy, the most esteemed and most prevalent of all the philosophical systems of the Hindoos.

The

In the whole Indian philosophy, there are in fact only three different modes of thought, or three systems absolutely divergent, and we shall give a sufficiently clear idea of these systems, if we say that the first is founded on nature, the second on thought, or on the thinking self, and the third attaches itself exclusively to the revelation comprised in the Vedas. first system, which seems to be one of the most ancient, bears the name of the Sanchyá philosophy-a name which signifies "the philosophy of Numbers." This is not to be understood in the Pythagorean sense, that numbers are the principle of all things, or according to the very similar principle laid down in the books of I-King, where we find the eight kona, or the symbolic, primary lines of all existence. But the Sanchya system bears this name because it reckons successively the first principles of all things and of all being to the number of four or five-and-twenty. Among these first principles, it assigns the highest place to Nature, the second to understanding, and by this is meant not merely human understanding, but general and even Infinite Intelligence; so that we may consider this system as a very partial philosophy of Nature; and indeed it has been regarded by some Indian writers as atheistical-a censure in which the learned Englishman, Mr. Colebrooke (to whose extracts and notices we are indebted for our most precise information on this whole branch of Indian literature), seems almost inclined to concur. This system was, however, by no means a coarse materialism, or a denial of the Divinity and of everything sacred. The doubts expressed in the passages cited by Mr. Colebrooke, are directed far more against the Creation than against God; they

regard the motive which could have induced the Supreme Being, the Spirit of infinite perfec tion, to create the external world, and the possibility of such a creation.

This Sanchya Philosophy would be more properly designated in our modern philosophic phraseology as a system of complete Dualism, where two substances are represented as coexistent on one hand, a self-existent energy of Nature, which emanated, or eternally emanates, from itself; and on the other hand, eternal truth, or the Supreme and Infinite Mind.

The Indian Philosophers in general were so inclined to regard the whole outward world of sense, as the product of illusion, as a vain and idle apparition, that we can well imagine they were unable to reconcile the creation of such a

world (which appeared to them a world of darkness, or perhaps, on a somewhat higher scale, as an intermediate state of illusion,) with their mystical notion of the infinite perfection of the Supreme Being and Eternal Spirit. For even in Ethics they were wont to place the idea of Supreme Perfection in a state of absolute repose, but not (at least to an equal degree) in the state of active energy or exertion. Great as the error of such a system of dualism may be, there is yet a mighty difference between a philosophy which denies, or at least misconceives, the Creation, and one which denies the existence of the Deity; for such atheism never occurred to the minds of those philosophers. The doctrine of a primary self-existing energy in Nature, or of the eternity of the Universe, may, in a practical point of view, appear as gross an error, but in philosophy we must make accurate distinctions, and forbear to place this ancient dualism on the same level with that coarse materialism, that destructive and atheistic Atomical philosophy, or any other doctrines professed by the later sects of a dialectic Rationalism.

Valuable, undoubtedly, as are such extracts and communications from the c.ginals in a branch of human science still so little known, yet they will not alone suffice, and, without a certain philosophic flexibility of talent in the inquirer, they will fail to afford him a proper insight into the true nature, the real spirit and tendency of those ancient systems of philosophy. That the Indian philosophy, even when it has started from the most opposite principles, and when its circuitous or devious course has branched more or less widely from the common path, is sure to wind round, and fall into the one general track-the uniform term of all Indian philosophy-is well exemplified by the second part of the Sanchya system (called the Yoga philosophy), where we find a totally dif ferent principle proclaimed; and while it ut terly abandons the primary doctrine of a selfexistent principle in Nature laid down in the first part of the philosophy, it unfolds those maxims of Indian mysticism which recur in every department of Hindoo literature. That

total absorption in the one thought of the Deity, that entire abstraction from all the impressions and notions of sense-that suspension of all outward, and in part even of inward life, effected by the energy of a will tenaciously fixed and entirely concentrated on a single point, and by which, according to the belief of the Indians, miraculous power and supernatural knowledge are attained-are held up in the second part of the Sanchya system as the highest term of all mental exertion. The word, Yoga, signifies the complete union of all our thoughts and faculties with God, by which alone the soul can be freed, that is, delivered from the unhappy lot of transmigration; and this, and this only, forms the object of all Indian philosophy.

The Indian name of Yogi is derived from the same word, which designates this philosophy. The Indian Yogi is a hermit or penitent, who, absorbed in this mystic contemplation, remains often for years fixed immovably to a single spot. In order to give a lively representation of a phenomenon so strange to us, which appears totally incredible and almost impossible, although it has been repeatedly attested by eye-witnesses, and is a well-ascertained historical fact, I will extract from the drama of Sacontalá by the poet Calidas, a description of a Yogi, remarkable for its vivid accuracy, or, to use the expression of the German commentator, its fearful beauty. King Dushmanta inquires of Indra's charioteer the sacred abode of him whom he seeks; and to this the charioteer replies: "A little beyond the grove, where you see a pious Yogi, motionless as a pollard, holding his thick bushy hair and fixing his eyes on the solar orb. Markhis body is half covered with a white ant's edifice made of raised clay; the skin of a snake supplies the place of his sacerdotal thread, and part of it girds his loins; a number of knotty plants encircle and wound his neck; and surrounding birds' nests almost conceal his shoulders." We must not take this for the invention of fancy, or the exaggeration of a poet; the accuracy of this description is confirmed by the testimony of innumerable eye-witnesses, who recount the same fact, and in precisely similar colors. During that period of wonderful phenomena and supernatural powers-the first three centuries of the Christian church-we meet with only one Simon Stylites, or columnstander; and his conduct is by no means held up by Christian writers as a model of imitation, but is regarded, at best, as an extraordinary exception permitted on certain special grounds. In the Indian forests and deserts, and in the neighborhood of those holy places of pilgrimage mentioned above, there are many hundreds of these hermits-those strange human phenomena of the highest intellectual abstraction or delusion. Even the Greeks were acquainted with them, and, among so many other wonders, make men

We have transcribed Sir William Jones' own words, as given in his translation of Sacontalá.

tion of them, in their description of India, under the name of the Gymnosophists. Formerly such accounts would have been regarded as incredible, and as exceeding the bounds of possibility; but such conjectures can be of no avail against historical facts repeatedly attested and undeniably proved. Now that men are better acquainted with the wonderful flexibility of human organization, and with those marvellous powers which slumber concealed within it, they are less disposed to form light and hasty deci. sions on phenomena of this description. The whole is indeed a magical intellectual self-exaltation, accomplished by the energy of the will concentrated on a single point: and this concentration of the mind, when carried to this excess, may lead not merely to a figurative, but to a real intellectual self-annihilation, and to the disorder of all thought, even of the brain. While on the one hand we must remain amazed at the strength of a will so tenaciously and perseveringly fixed on an object purely spiritual, we must, on the other hand, be filled with profound regret at the sight of so much energy wasted for a purpose so erroneous, and in a manner so appalling.

The second species of Indian philosophy, totally different from the other two kinds, and which proceeds not from Nature, but from the principle of thought and from the thinking self, is comprised in the Nyayá system, whose founder was Gautama, a personage whom several of the earlier investigators of Indian literature, particularly Dr. Taylor, in his Translation of the "Prabodha Chandrodaya" (page 116), have confounded with the founder of the Buddhist sect, as both bear the same name. But a closer inquiry has proved them to be distinct persons; and Mr. Colebrooke himself finds greater points of coincidence or affinity between the Sanchyá philosophy and Buddhism, than between the latter and the Nyayá system. This Nyayá philosophy, proceeding from the act of thought, comprises in the doctrine of particulars, distinctions and subdivisions, the application of the thinking principle; and this part of the system embraces all which among the Greeks went under the name of logic or dialectic; and which with us is partly classed under the same head. Very many writings and commentaries have been devoted to the detailed treatment and exposition of these subjects, which the Indians seem to have discussed with almost the same diffuseness, or at least copiousness, as the Greeks. Like the Indians, the learned Englishman, who has first unlocked to our view this department of Indian literature, has paid comparatively most attention to this second part of the Nyaya philosophy. But all this logical philosophy, though it may furnish one more proof (if such be necessary) of the extreme richness, variety, and refinement of the intellectual culture of the Hindoos, yet possesses no immediate interest for the object we here propose to ourselves. Mr. Colebrooke remarks, however, that the funda

mental tenets of this philosophy comprise, as indeed is evident, not merely a logic in the ordinary acceptation of the word, but the metaphysics of all logical science. On this part of the subject, I could have wished that in the authentic extracts he has given us from the Sancrit originals, he had more distinctly educed the leading doctrines of the system, and thus furnished us with adequate data for forming a judgment on the general character of this philosophy, as well as on its points of coincidence with other systems, and with the philosophy of the Buddhists. For although it appears to be well ascertained that the religion of Buddha sprang from some perverted system of Hindoo philosophy, yet the points of transition to such a religious creed existing in the Indian systems of philosophy have not yet been clearly pointed out. The Vedanta philosophy must here evidently be excepted; for to this Buddhism is as much opposed as to the old Indian religion of the Vedas. Moreover that endless confusion and unintelligibleness of the Buddhist metaphysics, which we have before spoken of, may first be traced to the source of Idealism; though in the progress of that philosophy, many errors have been associated with it, errors which even, in its origin, were most widely removed from it; for every system of error asserts and even believes that it is perfectly consistent, though in none is such consistency found.

The basis and prevailing tendency of the Nyaya system (to judge from the extracts with which we have been furnished) is most decidedly ideal. On the whole we can very well conceive that a system of philosophy beginning with the highest act of thought, or proceeding from the thinking self, should run into a course of the most decided and absolute idealism, and that the general inclination of the Indian philosophers to regard the whole external world of sense as vain illusion, and to represent individual personality as absorbed in the Godhead by the most intimate union, should have given birth to a complete system of self-delusion-a diabolic self-idolatry, very congenial with the principles of that most ancient of all anti-christian sects-the Buddhists.

The Indian authorities cited by Colebrooke impute to the second part of the Nyayá philosophy a strong leaning to the atomical system. We must here recollect that, as the Indian mind pursued the most various and opposite paths of inquiry even in philosophy, there were besides the six most prevalent philosophic systems, recognized as generally conformable to religion, several others in direct opposition to the established doctrines on the Deity and on religion. Among these the Charvaca philosophy, which, according to Mr. Colebrooke, comprises the metaphysics of the sect of Jains, deserves a passing notice. It is a system of complete materialism founded on the atomical doctrines, such as Epicurus taught, and which met with so much favor and adhesion in the declining

ages of Greece and Rome; doctrines which several moderns have revived in latter times, but which the profound investigations of natural philosophy, now so far advanced, will scarcely ever permit to take root again.

The third species or branch of Indian philosophy, is that which is attached to the Vedas, and to the sacred revelation and traditions they contain. The first part of this philosophy-the Mimansá-is, according to Mr. Colebrooke, more immediately devoted to the interpretation of the Vedas, and most probably contains the fundamental rules of interpretation, or the leading principles, whereby independent reason is made to harmonize with the word of revelation conveyed by sacred tradition. The second or finished part of the system is called the Vedanta philosophy. The last word in this term, "Vedanta," which is compounded of two roots, is equivalent to the German word ende (end), or still more to the Latin, finis, and denotes the end or ultimate object of any effort; and so the entire term Vedanta will signify a philosophy which reveals the true sense, the internal spirit, and the proper object of the Vedas, and of the primitive revelation of Brahma comprised therein. This Vedanta philosophy is the one which now generally exerts the greatest influence on Indian literature and Indian life; and it is very possible that some of the six recognized, or at least tolerated, systems of philosophy, may have been purposely thrown into the back-ground, or, when they clashed too rudely with the principles of the prevailing system, have been softened down by their partisans, and have thus come to us in that state. A wide field is here opened to the future research and critical inquiries of Indian scholars.

This Vedanta philosophy is, in its general tendency, a complete system of Pantheism; but not the rigid, mathematical, abstract, negative Pantheism of some modern thinkers; for such a total denial of all personality in God, and of all freedom in man, is incompatible with the attachment which the Vedanta philosophy professes for sacred tradition and ancient mythology; and accordingly a modified, poetical, and half-mythological system of Pantheism, may here naturally be expected, and actually exists. Even in the doctrine of the immortality of the soul, and of the Metempsychosis, the personal existence of the human soul, inculcated by the ancient faith, is not wholly denied or rejected by this more modern system of philosophy; though on the whole it certainly is not exempt from the charge of Pantheism. But all the systems of Indian philosophy tend more or less to one practical aim-namely, the final deliverance and eternal emancipation of the soul from the old calamity-the dreaded fate-the frightful lot of being compelled to wander through the dark regions of nature-through the various forms of the brute creation-and to change ever anew its terrestrial shape. The second point in which the different systems of Indian philo

sophy mostly agree is this, that the various sacrifices prescribed for this end in the Vedas, are not free from blame or vice, partly on account of the effusion of blood necessarily connected with animal sacrifice- and partly on account of the inadequacy of such sacrifices to the final deliverance of the soul, useful and salutary though they be in other respects.

The general and fundamental doctrine of the Metempsychosis has rendered the destruction of animals extremely repulsive to Indian feelings, from the strong apprehension that a case may occur where, unconsciously and innocently, one may violate or injure the soul of some former relative in its present integument. But even the Vedas themselves inculcate the necessity of that sublime science which rises above nature, for the attainment of the full and final deliverance of the soul; as is expressed in an old remarkable passage of the Vedas, thus literally translated by Mr. Colebrooke.* "Man must recognise the soul-man must separate it from nature-then it comes not again-then it comes not again." These last words signify, Then the soul is delivered from the danger of a return to earth-from the misfortune of transmigration, and it remains forever united to God; a union which can be obtained only by that pure separation from nature, which is that sublimest science, invoked in the first words of this passage.

Animal sacrifices for the souls of the departed, particularly for those of deceased parents, which were regarded as the most sacred duty of the son and of the posterity, were among those religious usages which occupied an important place in the patriarchal ages, and were most deeply interwoven with the whole arrangement of life in that primitive period, as is evident from all those Indian rites, and the system of doctrines akin to them. These sacrifices are certainly of very ancient origin, and may well have been derived from the mourning father of mankind, and the first pair of hostile brothers. To these may afterwards have been added all that multitude of religious rites and doctrines, or marvellous theories respecting the immortal soul and its ulterior destinies. Hence the indispensable obligation of marriage for the Brahmins, in order to insure the blessing of legitimate offspring, regarded as one of the highest

* See Colebrooke's article on the Vedas, in the eighth volume of Asiatic Researches.

objects of existence in the patriarchal ages, for the prayers of the son only could obtain the deliverance, and secure the repose, of a departed parent's soul; and this was one of his most sacred duties. The high reverence for women, among the Indians, rests on the same religious notion, as is expressed by the old poet in these lines:

"Woman is man's better half,
Woman is man's bosom friend,
Woman is redemption's source,

From Woman springs the liberator."

This last line signifies, what we mentioned above, that the son is the Liberator appointed by God, to deliver by prayer the soul of his deceased father. The poet then continues:— "Women are the friends of the solitary-they solace him with their sweet converse; like to a father, in discharge of duty, consoling as a mother in misfortune."

We should scarcely conceive it possible (and it certainly tends to prove the original power, copiousness and flexibility of the human mind) that, by the side of a false mysticism totally sunk and lost in the abyss of the eternally incomprehensible and unfathomable, like the Indian philosophy, a rich, various, beautiful and highly-wrought poetry should have existed. The Epic narrative of the old Indian poems bears a great resemblance to the Homeric poetry, in its inexhaustible copiousness, in the touching simplicity of its antique forms, in justness of feeling, and accuracy of delineation. Yet in its subjects, and in the prevailing tone of its Mythological fictions, this Indian Epic poetry is characterized by a style of fancy incomparably more gigantic, such as occasionally prevails in the mythology of Hesiod-in the accounts of the old Titanic wars-or in the fabulous world of Eschylus, and of the Doric Pindar. In the tenderness of amatory feeling, in the description of female beauty, of the character and domestic relations of woman, the Indian poetry may be compared to the purest and noblest effusions of Christian poesy; though, on the whole, from the thoroughly mythical nature of its subjects, and from the rhythmical forms of its speech, it bears a greater resemblance to that of the ancients. Among the latter poets, Calidas, who is the most renowned and esteemed in the dramatic poetry of the Indians, might be called, by way of comparison, an Idyllic and sentimental Sophocles.

NOVALIS is known as the associate of Tieck and the Schlegels in establishing the Romantic School of Poetry which blossomed in Germany toward the close of the last century. But Novalis possesses a significance independent of any clique, and, amid this famed constellation, shines as a particular star, with proper and individual lustre. The literary firmament of Germany has many greater lights, but none fairer. His contributions to the national literature are insignificant in extent, and consist, for the most part, of fragments and rhapsodies; but the little he wrote is instinct with a rare and noble spirit, and the effect has been altogether disproportionate to the bulk.

A singular charm invests this youth. For youth he was at the time of his death. His premature decease enhances the interest created by his lofty aims and his deep-eyed enthusiasm, imparting a certain ideal and heroic beauty to the early lost, whose germ of golden promise was not permitted to unfold in this present. Purity of heart, religious fervor, deep poetic feeling, and mystic inwardness, combined with true philosophic genius and scientific attainments far above the standard of general scholarship, constitute his distinguishing characteristics.

Friedrich von Hardenberg was born in the county of Mansfeld, in Saxony. His father (Baron von Hardenberg) and his mother were members of the Moravian Communion, profoundly religious, without narrowness or bigotry. He was one of eleven children, all of whom are said to have been distinguished by remarkable endowments of mind and heart. As a child, he was weakly, and discovered but little intellect. But after a dangerous illness, which occurred in his ninth year, he seemed to wake as from a dream, and thenceforward showed himself a youth of rare promise. He studied successively at the universities of Jena, Leipzig and Wittemberg, but chose a practical calling for his pursuit, in preference to the learned professions, and held an office under his father, who was director of the government salt-works in Saxony.

3M

The critical event of his life was the death of his betrothed, Sophie v. K., who is represented as a being of preternatural beauty of person and of soul. "The first glimpse," says Tieck, "of this beautiful and wondrous lovely form determined his whole life; nay, we may say, that the sentiment which penetrated and animated him became the theme of his whole life." * * * "All who knew this wonderful beloved of our friend, are agreed that no description can express with what a grace and heavenly charm this unearthly being moved, what beauty shone around her, what pathos and majesty invested her. Novalis became a poet whenever he spoke of her." She died the day but one succeeding her fifteenth birth-day, the 19th March, 1797. "No one dared to communicate the tidings to Novalis. At length, his brother Carl undertook it. The mourner locked himself up for three days and nights, and then journeyed to Arnstadt, that, with faithful friends, he might be nearer the beloved spot which now concealed the remains of this most precious being." * "At this period, Novalis lived only in his grief; it became natural to him to regard the visible and the invisible world as one, and to distinguish between life and death only by his longing for the latter. At the same time, life became to him transfigured, and his whole being was dissolved as in a lucid, conscious dream of a higher existence."

*

*

Novalis died within four years from the date of this affliction. That term comprises near y all his writings.

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Since he had so far outstripped his age, his country was authorized to expect extraordinary things of him, had not this early death overtaken him. The unfinished writings he has left behind him have already wrought much; many of his great thoughts will exert their inspiration in the future, and noble minds and deep thinkers will be enlightened and inflamed by the scintillations of his spirit."

* See the biographical sketch prefixed to Tieck and Fr. Schlegel's edition of Novalis' works, from which this account is taken.

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