India: What can it teach us? Part 17

[Footnote 211: _Deh_li, not _Del_-high.--A. W.]

[Footnote 212: Cunningham, "Archaeological Survey of India," vol. xii.

p. 113.]

[Footnote 213: Pliny, Hist. Nat. vi. 20, 71: "Indus incolis Sindus appellatus."]

[Footnote 214: The history of these names has been treated by Professor La.s.sen, in his "Indische Alterthumskunde," and more lately by Professor Kaegi, in his very careful essay, "Der Rig-Veda," pp.

146, 147.]

[Footnote 215: Ptol. vii. 1, 29.]

[Footnote 216: Arrian, Indica, viii. 5.]

[Footnote 217: Rig-Veda III. 33, 1: "From the lap of the mountains Vipa_s_ and _S_utudri rush forth with their water like two l.u.s.ty mares neighing, freed from their tethers, like two bright mother-cows licking (their calf).

"Ordered by Indra and waiting his bidding you run toward the sea like two charioteers; running together, as your waters rise, the one goes into the other, you bright ones."]

[Footnote 218: Other cla.s.sical names are Hypanis, Bipasis, and Bibasis. Yaska identifies it with the ar_g_ikiya.]

[Footnote 219: Cf. Nirukta IX. 26.]

[Footnote 220: "The first tributaries which join the Indus before its meeting with the Kubha or the Kabul river cannot be determined. All travellers in these northern countries complain of the continual changes in the names of the rivers, and we can hardly hope to find traces of the Vedic names in existence there after the lapse of three or four thousand years. The rivers intended may be the Shauyook, Ladak, Abba Seen, and Burrindu, and one of the four rivers, the Rasa, has a.s.sumed an almost fabulous character in the Veda. After the Indus has joined the Kubha or the Kabul river, two names occur, the Gomati and Krumu, which I believe I was the first to identify with the modern rivers the Gomal and Kurrum. (Roth, Nirukta, Erlauterungen, p. 43, Anm.) The Gomal falls into the Indus, between Dera Ismael Khan and Paharpore, and although Elphinstone calls it a river only during the rainy season, Klaproth (Foe-koue-ki, p. 23) describes its upper course as far more considerable, and adds: 'Un peu a l'est de Sirmagha, le Gomal traverse la chaine de montagnes de Soliman, pa.s.se devant Raghzi, et fertilise le pays habite par les tribus de Dauletkhail et de Gandehpour. Il se desseche au defile de Pezou, et son lit ne se remplit plus d'eau que dans la saison des pluies; alors seulement il rejoint la droite de l'Indus, au sud-est de bourg de Paharpour.' The Kurrum falls into the Indus north of the Gomal, while, according to the poet, we should expect it south. It might be urged that poets are not bound by the same rules as geographers, as we see, for instance, in the verse immediately preceding. But if it should be taken as a serious objection, it will be better to give up the Gomati than the Krumu, the latter being the larger of the two, and we might then take Gomati, 'rich in cattle,' as an adjective belonging to Krumu."--From a review of General Cunningham's "Ancient Geography of India," in _Nature_, 1871, Sept. 14.]

LECTURE VI.

VEDIC DEITIES.

The next important phenomenon of nature which was represented in the Veda as a terrestrial deity is Fire, in Sanskrit Agni, in Latin _ignis_. In the wors.h.i.+p which is paid to the Fire and in the high praises bestowed on Agni we can clearly perceive the traces of a period in the history of man in which not only the most essential comforts of life, but life itself, depended on the knowledge of producing fire. To us fire has become so familiar that we can hardly form an idea of what life would be without it. But how did the ancient dwellers on earth get command and possession of fire? The Vedic poets tell us that fire first came to them from the sky, in the form of lightning, but that it disappeared again, and that then Matari_s_van, a being to a certain extent like Prometheus, brought it back and confided it to the safe keeping of the clan of the Bh_r_igus (Phlegyas).[221]

In other poems we hear of the mystery of fire being produced by rubbing pieces of wood; and here it is a curious fact that the name of the wood thus used for rubbing is in Sanskrit Pramantha, a word which, as Kuhn has shown, would in Greek come very near to the name of Prometheus. The possession of fire, whether by preserving it as sacred on the hearth, or by producing it at pleasure with the fire-drill, represents an enormous step in early civilization. It enabled people to cook their meat instead of eating it raw; it gave them the power of carrying on their work by night; and in colder climates it really preserved them from being frozen to death. No wonder, therefore, that the fire should have been praised and wors.h.i.+pped as the best and kindest of G.o.ds, the only G.o.d who had come down from heaven to live on earth, the friend of man, the messenger of the G.o.ds, the mediator between G.o.ds and men, the immortal among mortals. He, it is said, protects the settlements of the Aryans, and frightens away the black-skinned enemies.

Soon, however, fire was conceived by the Vedic poets under the more general character of light and warmth, and then the presence of Agni was perceived, not only on the hearth and the altar, but in the Dawn, in the Sun, and in the world beyond the Sun, while at the same time his power was recognized as ripening, or as they called it, as cooking, the fruits of the earth, and as supporting also the warmth and the life of the human body. From that point of view Agni, like other powers, rose to the rank of a Supreme G.o.d.[222] He is said to have stretched out heaven and earth--naturally, because without his light heaven and earth would have been invisible and undistinguishable. The next poet says that Agni held heaven aloft by his light, that he kept the two worlds asunder; and in the end Agni is said to be the progenitor and father of heaven and earth, and the maker of all that flies, or walks, or stands, or moves on earth.

Here we have once more the same process before our eyes. The human mind begins with being startled by a single or repeated event, such as the lightning striking a tree and devouring a whole forest, or a spark of fire breaking forth from wood being rubbed against wood, whether in a forest, or in the wheel of a carriage, or at last in a fire-drill, devised on purpose. Man then begins to wonder at what to him is a miracle, none the less so because it is a fact, a simple, natural fact. He sees the effects of a power, but he can only guess at its cause, and if he is to speak of it, he can only do so by speaking of it as an agent, or as something like a human agent, and, if in some respects not quite human, in others more than human or superhuman.

Thus the concept of Fire grew; and while it became more and more generalized, it also became more sublime, more incomprehensible, more divine. Without Agni, without fire, light, and warmth, life would have been impossible. Hence he became the author and giver of life, of the life of plants and animals and of men; and his favor having once been implored for "light and life and all things," what wonder that in the minds of some poets, and in the traditions of this or that village-community he should have been raised to the rank of a supreme ruler, a G.o.d above all G.o.ds, their own true G.o.d!

We now proceed to consider the powers which the ancient poets might have discovered in the air, in the clouds, and, more particularly, in those meteoric conflicts which by thunder, lightning, darkness, storms, and showers of rain must have taught man that very important lesson that he was not alone in this world. Many philosophers, as you know, believe that all religion arose from fear or terror, and that without thunder and lightning to teach us, we should never have believed in any G.o.ds or G.o.d. This is a one-sided and exaggerated view.

Thunderstorms, no doubt, had a large share in arousing feelings of awe and terror, and in making man conscious of his weakness and dependence. Even in the Veda, Indra is introduced as saying: "Yes, when I send thunder and lightning, then you believe in me." But what we call religion would never have sprung from fear and terror alone.

_Religion is trust_, and that trust arose in the beginning from the impressions made on the mind and heart of man by the order and wisdom of nature, and more particularly by those regularly recurring events, the return of the sun, the revival of the moon, the order of the seasons, the law of cause and effect, gradually discovered in all things, and traced back in the end to a cause of all causes, by whatever name we choose to call it.

Still the meteoric phenomena had, no doubt, their important share in the production of ancient deities; and in the poems of the Vedic Ris.h.i.+s they naturally occupy a very prominent place. If we were asked who was the princ.i.p.al G.o.d of the Vedic period, we should probably, judging from the remains of that poetry which we possess, say it was Indra, the G.o.d of the blue sky, the Indian Zeus, the gatherer of the clouds, the giver of rain, the wielder of the thunder-bolt, the conqueror of darkness, and of all the powers of darkness, the bringer of light, the source of freshness, vigor, and life, the ruler and lord of the whole world. Indra is this, and much more in the Veda. He is supreme in the hymns of many poets, and may have been so in the prayers addressed to him by many of the ancient septs or village communities in India. Compared with him the other G.o.ds are said to be decrepit old men. Heaven, the old Heaven or Dyaus, formerly the father of all the G.o.ds, nay the father of Indra himself, bows before him, and the Earth trembles at his approach. Yet Indra never commanded the permanent allegiance of all the other G.o.ds, like Zeus and Jupiter; nay, we know from the Veda itself that there were skeptics, even at that early time, who denied that there was any such thing as Indra.[223]

By the side of Indra, and a.s.sociated with him in his battles, and sometimes hardly distinguishable from him, we find the representatives of the wind, called Vata or Vayu, and the more terrible storm-G.o.ds, the Maruts, literally the Smashers.

When speaking of the Wind, a poet says:[224] "Where was he born?

Whence did he spring? the life of the G.o.ds, the germ of the world!

That G.o.d moves about where he listeth, his voices are heard, but he is not to be seen."

The Maruts are more terrible than Vata, the wind. They are clearly the representatives of such storms as are known in India, when the air is darkened by dust and clouds, when in a moment the trees are stripped of their foliage, their branches s.h.i.+vered, their stems snapped, when the earth seems to reel and the mountains to shake, and the rivers are lashed into foam and fury. Then the poet sees the Maruts approaching with golden helmets, with spotted skins on their shoulders, brandis.h.i.+ng golden spears, whirling their axes, shooting fiery arrows, and cracking their whips amid thunder and lightning. They are the comrades of Indra, sometimes, like Indra, the sons of Dyaus or the sky, but also the sons of another terrible G.o.d, called Rudra, or the Howler, a fighting G.o.d, to whom many hymns are addressed. In him a new character is evolved, that of a healer and saviour--a very natural transition in India, where nothing is so powerful for dispelling miasmas, restoring health, and imparting fresh vigor to man and beast, as a thunderstorm, following after weeks of heat and drought.

All these and several others, such as Par_g_anya and the _Ri_bhus, are the G.o.ds of mid-air, the most active and dramatic G.o.ds, ever present to the fancy of the ancient poets, and in several cases the prototypes of later heroes, celebrated in the epic poems of India. In battles, more particularly, these fighting G.o.ds of the sky were constantly invoked.[225] Indra is the leader in battles, the protector of the bright Aryans, the destroyer of the black aboriginal inhabitants of India. "He has thrown down fifty thousand black fellows," the poet says, "and their strongholds crumbled away like an old rag." Strange to say, Indra is praised for having saved his people from their enemies, much as Jehovah was praised by the Jewish prophets. Thus we read in one hymn that when Sudas, the pious king of the T_ri_tsus, was pressed hard in his battle with the ten kings, Indra changed the flood into an easy ford, and thus saved Sudas.

In another hymn we read:[226] "Thou hast restrained the great river for the sake of Turviti Vayya: the flood moved in obedience to thee, and thou madest the rivers easy to cross." This is not very different from the Psalmist (78:13): "He divided the sea, and caused them to pa.s.s through; and he made the waters to stand as an heap."

And there are other pa.s.sages which have reminded some students of the Veda of Joshua's battle,[227] when the sun stood still and the moon stayed, until the people had avenged themselves upon their enemies.

For we read in the Veda also, as Professor Kaegi has pointed out (l.

c. p. 63), that "Indra lengthened the days into the night," and that "the Sun unharnessed its chariot in the middle of the day."[228]

In some of the hymns addressed to Indra his original connection with the sky and the thunderstorm seems quite forgotten. He has become a spiritual G.o.d, the only king of all worlds and all people,[229] who sees and hears everything,[230] nay, who inspires men with their best thoughts. No one is equal to him, no one excels him.

The name of Indra is peculiar to India, and must have been formed after the separation of the great Aryan family had taken place, for we find it neither in Greek, nor in Latin, nor in German. There are Vedic G.o.ds, as I mentioned before, whose names must have been framed before that separation, and which occur therefore, though greatly modified in character, sometimes in Greek, sometimes in Latin, sometimes in the Celtic, Teutonic, and Slavonic dialects. D y a u s, for instance, is the same word as Zeus or Jupiter, U s h a s is Eos, N a k t a is Nyx, S u r y a is Helios, A g n i is ignis, B h a g a is Baga in Old Persian, B o g u in Old Slavonic, V a r u _n_ a is Uranos, V a t a is Wotan, V a _k_ is vox, and in the name of the _Maruts_, or the storm-G.o.ds, the germs of the Italic G.o.d of war, Mars, have been discovered. Besides these direct coincidences, some indirect relations have been established between Hermes and S a r a m e y a, Dionysos and D y u n i _s_ y a, Prometheus and p r a m a n t h a, Orpheus and _R i_ b h u, Erinnys and S a r a _n_ y u, Pan and P a v a n? a.[231]

But while the name of Indra as the G.o.d of the sky, also as the G.o.d of the thunderstorm, and the giver of rain, is unknown among the north-western members of the Aryan family, the name of another G.o.d who sometimes acts the part of Indra (Indra_h_ Par_g_anyatma), but is much less prominent in the Veda, I mean Par_g_anya, must have existed before that of Indra, because two at least of the Aryan languages have carried it, as we shall see, to Germany, and to the very sh.o.r.es of the Baltic.

Sometimes this Par_g_anya stands in the place of Dyaus, the sky. Thus we read in the Atharva-Veda, XII. 1, 12:[232] "The Earth is the mother, and I am the son of the Earth. Par_g_anya is the father; may he help us!"

In another place (XII. 1, 42) the Earth, instead of being the wife of Heaven or Dyaus, is called the wife of Par_g_anya.

Now who or what is this Par_g_anya? There have been long controversies about him,[233] as to whether he is the same as Dyaus, Heaven, or the same as Indra, the successor of Dyaus, whether he is the G.o.d of the sky, of the cloud, or of the rain.

To me it seems that this very expression, G.o.d of the sky, G.o.d of the cloud, is so entire an anachronism that we could not even translate it into Vedic Sanskrit without committing a solecism. It is true, no doubt, we must use our modern ways of speaking when we wish to represent the thoughts of the ancient world; but we cannot be too much on our guard against accepting the dictionary representative of an ancient word for its real counterpart. Deva, no doubt, means "G.o.ds" and "G.o.d," and P a r _g_ a n y a means "cloud," but no one could say in Sanskrit p a r _g_ a n y a s y a d e v a _h_, "the G.o.d of the cloud." The G.o.d, or the divine, or transcendental element, does not come from without, to be added to the cloud or to the sky or to the earth, but it springs from the cloud and the sky and the earth, and is slowly elaborated into an independent concept. As many words in ancient languages have an undefined meaning, and lend themselves to various purposes according to the various intentions of the speakers, the names of the G.o.ds also share in this elastic and plastic character of ancient speech. There are pa.s.sages where Par_g_anya means cloud, there are pa.s.sages where it means rain.

There are pa.s.sages where Par_g_anya takes the place which elsewhere is filled by Dyaus, the sky, or by Indra, the active G.o.d of the atmosphere.

This may seem very wrong and very unscientific to the scientific mythologist. But it cannot be helped. It is the nature of ancient thought and ancient language to be unscientific, and we must learn to master it as well as we can, instead of finding fault with it, and complaining that our forefathers did not reason exactly as we do.

There are pa.s.sages in the Vedic hymns where Par_g_anya appears as a supreme G.o.d. He is called father, like Dyaus, the sky. He is called a s u r a, the living or life-giving G.o.d, a name peculiar to the oldest and the greatest G.o.ds. One poet says,[234] "He rules as G.o.d over the whole world; all creatures rest in him; he is the life (atma) of all that moves and rests."

Surely it is difficult to say more of a supreme G.o.d than what is here said of Par_g_anya. Yet in other hymns he is represented as performing his office, namely that of sending rain upon the earth, under the control of Mitra and Varu_n_, who are then considered as the highest lords, the mightiest rulers of heaven and earth.[235]

There are other verses, again, where par_g_anya occurs with hardly any traces of personality, but simply as a name of cloud or rain.

Thus we read:[236] "Even by day the Maruts (the storm-G.o.ds) produce darkness with the cloud that carries water, when they moisten the earth." Here cloud is par_g_anya, and it is evidently used as an appellative, and not as a proper name. The same word occurs in the plural also, and we read of many par_g_anyas or clouds vivifying the earth.[237]

When Devapi prays for rain in favor of his brother, he says:[238] "O lord of my prayer (B_ri_haapati), whether thou be Mitra or Varu_n_a or Pushan, come to my sacrifice! Whether thou be together with the adityas, the Vasus or the Maruts, let the cloud (par_g_anya) rain for _S_antanu."

And again: "Stir up the rainy cloud" (par_g_anya).

In several places it makes no difference whether we translate par_g_anya by cloud or by rain, for those who pray for rain, pray for the cloud, and whatever may be the benefits of the rain, they may nearly all be called the benefits of the cloud. There is a curious hymn, for instance, addressed to the frogs who, at the beginning of the rains, come forth from the dry ponds, and embrace each other and chatter together, and whom the poet compares to priests singing at a sacrifice, a not very complimentary remark from a poet who is himself supposed to have been a priest. Their voice is said to have been revived by par_g_anya, which we shall naturally translate "by rain,"

though, no doubt, the poet may have meant, for all we know, either a cloud, or even the G.o.d Par_g_anya himself.

I shall try to translate one of the hymns addressed to Par_g_anya, when conceived as a G.o.d, or at least as so much of a G.o.d as it was possible to be at that stage in the intellectual growth of the human race.[239]

1. "Invoke the strong G.o.d with these songs! praise Par_g_anya, wors.h.i.+p him with veneration! for he, the roaring bull, scattering drops, gives seed-fruit to plants.