ue 4 ye tite Ae Wes = ot ieee the ie aT + ge pe latte anne ann N * 2 part aye fhe eek he she Pattee . we Ma # de ¥ Paes ‘ 4 rede ery an ay : i ; Bevnsitea feng Geetha Stelter 4 reid fet i Natave + re tified ode Br He ae Hs ih Hh Ge etfs i ne eee oy He ee fe Hi Mode nG sive em ards Gee ey ee Heritedh of treme CR Ete sting A betes i oehegn ihe hie i> t= pohbeshegihe te: by does 4% had we patie ¢ ae ge fg ee spa) ba Se ete etre FS Coe me Meee felt = soe rae eb z Ra tiy od bole ay ee PA) oe Pe Aned fo dig he > j f enh sd Re ded ge Best regi Ge ff yo4+4 je Fak ube Yet AE hh ol WSs he > 4 f ane ee j ose | aan? )itvafode f #: Tage FjePy ePvagh thot ‘ Wie Pale Dee ana fF edhe PMS od Wee ae ra ty 4 a. ~ uate ae NS Be YYTT Cae Ree i by ag RAE SE Sie te ee She ayy ay DD BEE peony. Pasty pinetnba lt YAP geRe Bae bh bead a8 sete SS, phe ay ea eek dpadte Mh hy ae epee eas Aen Woe : Sib WT bol \ Rae f Ya aiadiae sibel rn » t + in D16.8 .528 1888 1888 Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2022 with funding from University of Illinois Uroana-Champaign https://archive.org/details/philosophyofhistOOschi_ 0 THE PHILOS \OPHY UE HISTORY, (0 os may af IN A wiprar fee 4 poe ’ abe ; TAS : a Us : - COURSE OF LECTURES” DELIVERED AT VIENNA BY FREDERICK VON SCHLEGEL, ‘ TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN, | WITH A MEMOIk OF THE AUTHOR, BY ‘JAMES BURTON ROBERTSON, ESQ. SEVENTH EDITION, REVISED. Ar “LONDON: GEORGE BELL & SONS, YORK STREET, | COVENT GARDEN, | 1888. BOHN’S STANDARD.- LIBRARY. - SCHLEGEL'S PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY. ** Were I to pray for a taste whicn should stand me in stead under every variety of circumstances, and be a source of happiness and cheerfulness to me during life, and a shield against its ills, however things might go amiss and the world frown upon me, it would be a taste for reading. .. ... Give a man this taste, and the means of gratifying it, and you can hardly fail of making him a happy man ; unless, indeed, you put into his hands a most perverse sclection of books. You place him in contact with the best society in every period of history,—with the wisest, the wittiest, the tenderest, the bravest, and the purest characters who have adorned humanity. You make him a denizen of all nations, a contemporary of all ages. The- world has been created for him.”—-Sir Jonn Herscuen, Address on the opening of the Kton Library, 1833. La ‘ : * - be VN lis et VR oh BME ISS Ee Sag ~~ PY eR. EN I ON ARH INS ah HPAP PRN IDG STEN UAT PPR 28 gence c) * Be Petipa z al i a ‘ Te f PIF Eipas jap lata A KS WILLIS IS POLL od EAP GSS distension r ‘da FREDERICK VON SCHLEGE) é THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY, Oe 0 i oe LP xyary ere + 7 NT ATL UNWViw.. “COURSE OF LECTURES BY FREDERICK VON SCHLEGEL. | TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN, WITH A MEMOIh OF THE AUTHOR, BY JAMES BURTON ROBERTSON, ESQ, PAM Ag SEVENTH EDITION, REVISED. aa LONDON: GEORGE BELL & SONS, YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN, 1888. a ! LONDON ; PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, 2 STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS. on PRE Ree eee anieaehs Cees aioli EEL Lt RO I CL TT I PE AE Ny” ee RET IRIN AMAR SAIC AE RE a ATER ad AT PLO A EO NI IEG Drei Reproduced by. DUOPAGE PROCESS | in the U.S. of America _ Micro Photo Division Bell & Howell Company Cleveland, Ohio 44112 | ated PNY ete nde aareiaee iis DP 13742 At vy ene eae Ce a i a age wien an CONTENTS. PAGR AvertiscinentatO meCOUG LUCIGION . r, m 2 ’ i sad lactacin th hha tie ninisl chi daalbtiaad ne dA) Seed. Jo eal aa dtieiieet adeiane ta seaman 10 THE LITERARY LIFE OF which had long weighed on the Parisian mind, and from which it was then but slowly emerging, could ill accord with the lofty Platonism of the German; nor when we add to the disadvantage under which every one labours when speaking in a foreign tongue, the fact that nature had not favoured this extrordinary man. with a happy delivery. From Paris, he wrote a series of articles on the early Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, and Provencal poetry. ‘The article on Portuguese poetry is singularly beautiful, and contains, among other things, some remarks as new as they are just, on the influence of climate and locality in the for- mation of dialects. It comprises, too, an admirable critique on the noble poem of the Lusiad, which in allusion to the great national catastrophe that so soon followed on its pub- lication, and by which the ancient power, energy, and glory of Portugal were for ever destroyed, he calls ‘ the swan-like cry of a people of heroes prior to its downfall.” This essay and others of the same period furnish also a proof how very soon I*rederick Schlegel had framed his critical views and opinions on the various works of art. His esthetic system seems to have been formed at a single cast—we might almost say, that from the head of this in- tellectual Jove, the Pallas of criticism had leaped all armed. His metaphysical theories, on the contrary, appear to have been slowly elaborated—to have undergone many modi- fications and improvements in the lapse of years, and never to have been moulded into a form of perfect sym- metry, until the last years of his life. During his abode in France, he addressed to a friend in Germany, a series of beautiful letters on the different schools and epochs of Christian painting. The pictorial treasures of a oe part of Hurope were then concentrated in the French capital; and Schlegel, availing himself of this golden opportunity, gave an account of the various master-pieces of modern art, contained in the public and private collections of Paris; interweaving in these notices, general views on the nature, cbject; and limits of Christian FREDERICK VON SCHLEGEL. 1] painting. These letters the author has since revised and enlarged; and they now form one of the most delightful volumes in the general collection of his works. The three arts, sculpture, music, and painting, cor- respond, according to the author, to the three parts of human consciousness, the body—the soul—and the mind. Sculpture, the most material of the fine arts, best repre- sents the beauty of form, and the propertics of sense : Music explores and gives utterance to the deepest feelings of the human soul: butitis reserved for the most spiritual of the arts—Painting, to express all the mysteries of in- telligence—all the divine symbolism in nature and in man, He shows that the three arts have objects very distinct, and which must by no means be confounded. But the respective limits of these arts have not always been duly observed. Hence, confining his observation to painting, there are some artists, whom he calls sculpture- © painters, like the great Angelo—others again musical painters, ike Correggio and Murillo. The various schools of art—the elder Italian—the later Ytalian—the Spanish—the old German—and the Flemish, pass successively under review. ‘The distinctive qualities of the mighty masters in each school—the fantastic and truly Dantesque wildness of Giotto—the soft outline of Perugino—the depth of feeling that characterises Leo- nardo da Vuinci—the ideal beauty—the various, the infinite charm of Raphael—the gigantic conception of Angelo—the glowing reality of Titian—the harmonious elegance of Correggio—the bold vigour of Julio Romano —the noble effort of the Caraccis to revive in a declining age the style of the great masters—the true Spanish ear- nestness and concentrated energy of Murillo—the deep- toned piety of Velasquez—the profound and coinprehensive understanding which distinguishes his own Durer, whom he calls the Shakspeare of painting—the distinctive quali- ties of these great masters (to name but a few of the more eminent), are analysed with incomparable skill, and set forth with charming diction. I regret that the limits / LEE I er RE GAT BLOF LE LN OA A LE ELE RGR” RELL A LIE TCT TEMA L ER PA LER L RELL LN LLL! NI NEL LEE EEL AED LIY I LIL ELE LTE IEA LIED AE EET NAL LE ih i Galea Ti 12 THE LITERARY LIFE OF of tais introductory memoir will not allow me to give an analysis of these enchanting letters; but I cannot forbear observing in conclusion, that at the present moment, when there seems, to be an earnest wish on all sides to revive the higher art among ourselves, whoever would undertake a translation of these letters, would, I think, confer a service on the public generally, and on our artists in particular To the friends and followers of art, such a work is the more necessary, as the illustrious author has, in a manner, taken up the subject where Winklemann had left off. These letters are followed by others equally admirable on Gothic architecture, where the characteristic qualities of the different epochs in the civil and ecclesiastical archi- tecture of the middle age are set forth with the same masterly powers of fancy and discrimination. This sublime art seemed to respond best to Schlegel’s inmost feelings. But I am now. approaching a passage in the hfe of Schlegel, which will be viewed in a different light, accord- ing to the different feelings and convictions of my readers. By some his conduct will be considered a blameable apos- tacy from the faith of his fathers—by others, a generous sacrifice of early prejudices on the altar of truth. To disguise my own approbation of his conduct, would be to do violence to my feelings, and wrong to my principles; but to enter into a justification of his motives, would be to engage in a polemical discussion, most unseemly in an introduction to a work which 1s perfectly foreign to in- quiries of that nature. I shall therefore confine myself to a brief statement of facts: noticing, at the same time. the intellectual condition of the two great religious parties of Germany, immediately prior and subsequent to Schlegel’s change of religion. It was on his return from France in the year 1805, and in the ancient city of Cologne, that the subject of this memoir was received into the bosom of the Catholic church. There, in that venerable city, which was so often honoured by the abede of the great founder of Christendom—Charlemagne— which abounds with s0 FREDERICK VON SCHLEGEL. io many monuments of the arts, the learning, the opu- lence, and political greatness of the middle age—where - the Christian Aristotle of the thirteenth century—Aquinas —lhiad passed the first years of his academic course—there, in that vencrable minster, too, one of the proudest monu- ments of Gothic architecture—was solemnised. in the person of this illustrious man, the alliance between the ancient faith and modern science of Germany—an alli- ance that has been productive of such important conse- quences, and is yet pregnant with mightier results. The purity of the motives which directed Schlegel in this, the most important act of his life, few would be 1enorant or shameless enough to impeach. His station, his character—his virtues—all suffice to repel the very suspicion of unworthy motives; and the least reflection will show, that while in a country circumstanced lke Germany, his change of religion could not procure for him greater honours and emoluments than, under any circumstances, his genius would be certain to command; that change would too surely expose. him to obloquy, -misrepresentation, and calumny—and what, to a heart so sensitive as his, must have been still more painful—the alienation perhaps of esteemed friends. Had he remained a Protestant, he would, instead of engaging in the service of Austria, have in all probability taken to that of Prussia, and there, doubtless, have received the same honours and distinctions which have been so deservingly bestowed on his illustrious brother. We may suppose, also, that a man of his mind and character, would not on slight and frivolous grounds, have taken a step so important; nor in a matter so momentous, have come to a decision, without a full and anxious investigation. In fact, his theological learning was extensive—he was well read in the ancient fathers—the schoolmen of the middle age, and the more» eminent modern divines; and though I am not aware taat he has devoted any special treatise to theology, yet the remarks scattered through his works, whether or Biblical exegesis, or dogmatic divinity, are so pregnant l4 THE LITERARY LIFE OF origina., and profound, that we plainly see it was in his power to have given the world a ‘ systema theologicum,” no less masterly than that of his great predecessor— Leibnitz. The works of the early Greek fathers, indeed, he appears to have made a special object of scientific re- search, well knowing what golden grains of philosophy may be picked te in that sacred stream. ‘The conversion of Schlegel was hailed with enthusiasm by the Catholics of Germany. This event occurred, indeed, at a moment equally opportune to himself and to the Catholic body. To himself—for though his noble mind would never have run a-ground amid the miserable shallows of Rationalism, yet had it not then taken refuge in the secure haven of Catholicism, it might have been sucked down in the rapid eddies of Pantheism. ‘T’o the Catholic body in Germany, this event was no less opportune; and for the reasons which shall now be stated. Germany, which in the middle age had produced so many distinguished poets, artists, and philosophers, was, at aie Reformation, shorn of much of her intellectua, strength. In the disastrous Thirty Years’ War, which that event brought about, she saw her universities robbed of their most distinguished ornaments, and the lights, which ought to have adorned her at home, shedding their lustre on foreign lands. The general languor and exhaustion of the German mind, consequent on that fearful and con- vulsive struggle, was apparent enough in the literature of the age, wnich ensued after the treaty of Westphalia. To these causes, which produced this general declension of German intellect, must be added one which specially applies to the Catholic paste of Germany. very great abuse of human reason, by a natural revul- sion of fecling, inspires a certain dread and distrust of its powers. This has been more than once exemplified in the history of the church. So, at this momentous period, some of the German Catholic powers sought in obscu- rantism, a refuge and security against religious and _poli- tical innovations, and denied to that science that encou- FREDERICK VON SCHLEGEL, 14 ragement which she nad a ngnt to look for at their hands:—a policy as infatuated as it is culpable, for, while ignorance Asa down contempt and disgrace on religion, it begets in its turn, as a melancholy’ experience has proved, those very errors and that very unbelief, against which it was designed as a protection. Had the court of Austria acceded to the proposal of Leibnitz, for establishing at Vienna that academy of sciences which he afterwards succeeded in founding at Berlin, the glory of that great resuscitation of the German mind, which occurred in the middle of the eighteenth century, would have then probably redounded to Catholic, rather than to Protestant Germany. But the German Catholics, though they started later in the carecr of intel- lectual improvement, have at length reached, and even outstripped, their Protestant brethren in the race. Three or four years before Schlegel embraced the Ca- tholic faith, the signal for a return to the ancient church -was given by the illustrious Count Stolberg. The reli- gious impulse, which this great man imparted to Ger- man literature, was simultancous with that Christian re- generation of philosophy, commenced in France by the Viscount de Bonald. And these two illustrious men, in the noble career which five-and-thirty years ago they » opened in their respective countries, have been tollowed by a series of gigantic intellects, who have restored the empire of faith, regenerated art and science, and reno- vated, if I may so speak, the human mind itself* Forty years ago, the Catholics of Germany, as I said, were in a state of the most humiliating intellectual infe- -niority to their Protestant brethren—they could point to few writers of eminence in their own body—Protestant- . ism was the lord of the ascendant in every department of German letters ;—and yct so well have the Catholics em- * The aristocracy of French literature, and a splendid aristocracy ‘it is, has been for the last twenty years decidedly Catholic. The | enemies of the church are to be found almost exclusively in the bourgeoisie, and still more in th2 zanaille, of that literature. 16 THE LITERARY LIFE OF ployed the intervening time, that they now furnish the most valuable portion of a literature, in many respects the most valuable in Europe. In every branch of knowledge they can now show writers of the highest order. ‘To name but a few of the most distinguished, they have pro- duced the two greatest Biblical critics of the age—Hug and Scholz—profound Biblical exegetists, like Alber, Ackermann, and, recently, Molitor, who has created a new era not only in Biblical literature, but in the Phi- losophy of History—divines, like Wiest, Dobmayer, Schwarz, Zimmer, Brenner, Liebermann, and Mochler, distinguished as they are for various and extensive learn- ing, and understandings as comprehensive as they are acute—an ecclesiastical historian pre-eminent for genius, erudition, and celestial suavity, like Count Stolberg—phi. losophic archwologists, like ee and Schlosser—ad- mirable publicists, like Gents, Adam Miiller, and the Swiss Haller—and two philosophers, possessed of vast acquirements and colossal intellects like Goerres, and the subject of this memoir. In Germany, and elsewhere, Catholic genius seems only to have slumbered during the eighteenth century, in order to astonish the world by a new and extraordinary display of strength. It is un- doubtedly true that several of the above-named indivi- duals originally belonged to the Protestant church, and that that church should have given birth to men of such exalted genius, refined sensibility, and moral worth, isa circumstance which furnishes our Protestant brethren with additional claims to our love and respect. We hail these first proselytes as the pledges of a more general, and surely not a very distant re-union. The vigorous graft of talent, which the Catholic thus received from the Protestant community, was imparted to a stock, where the powers of vegetation, long dormant, began now to revive with renovated strength. The old Catholics zealously co-operated with the new in the rege- neration of all the sciences—and the effects of their joint labours have been apparent, not only in the transcendent PS ies Ney 2° 5 enacts taille “seabonl aa aiiniserey regi t= tA Ne te ey” mt Sal Se iid s ; FREDERICK VON SCHLEGEL. 17 excellence of individual productions, but in the new life and energy infused into the learned corporations—the universities as well as the institutes of science. The mixed universities, like those of Bonn, Freyburg, and others, are ina great degree supported by Catholic talent ; and the great Catholic University of Munich, which the present excellent Kang of Bavaria founded in 1826, al- ready by the celebrity of its professors, the number of its scholars, and the admirable direction of the studies, bids fair to rival the most celebrated universities in Ger- many.” Grati‘ying as it must have been to Schlegel to see b how many distinguished spirits his example had been fol- lowed, and to witness the rapid literary improvement of that community in Germany to which he had now united himself, he could not expect to escape those crosses and contradictions which are,in this world, the heritage of the just. The rancorous invectives which the fanatic Ration- laist— Voss, had never ceased to pour out on his own early friend and benefactor—the heavenly-minded Stolberg, excited the contempt and discust of every well-constituted mind in the Protestant community. This Cerberus of Rationalism opened his deep-mouthed cry on Schlegel * The words which the King of Bavaria used at the moment of founding this university, are remarkable. “ I do not wish,” said he, “that my subjects should be learned at the cost of religion, nor reli- gious at the cost of learning.”— See Baader’s opening speech in 1826. “ Philosophische Schriften,”p. 866. These are golden words, which ought to be engraven on the hearts of all princes. In other words, the monarch meant to say, I wish to consecrate science by religion, - and I wish to confirm and extend religion by science. ‘This sove- reign is the most enlightened, as well as munificent, patron of iearn- ing in Europe; and whether we consider his zeal in the cause of religion—his solicitude for the freedom and prosperity of his subjects —his profound knowledge, as well as active patronage, of art ‘and science—and his true-hearted Germau frankness and probity ; he is in every respect, a worthy namesake of the illustrious Emperor Maximilian. He has assisted in making his capital a true German Athens ; and, small as it is, it may at this moment compete in art, literature, and science, with the proudest cities in Europe. y) C 18 THE LITERARY LIFE OF nlso, as he set his foot on the threshold of the Catholic church. In this instance, the religious bigotry of Voss was inflamed and exasperated by literary jealousy. By his criticisms, and masterly translation of Homer and other Greek poets, this high!y-gifted man had not only rendered imperishable service to German literature, but had contri- buted to infuse a new life into the study of classical anti- quity. Jealous, therefore of his Greeks, whom he wor- shipped with a sort of exclusive idolatry, he looked with distrust and aversion on every attempt to introduce the Orientals to the literary notice of the Germans. He ran down Asiatic literature of every age and nation with the most indiscriminate and unsparing violence—denounced the intentions of its admirers as evil and sinister ; and in allusion to the noble use which Stolberg, Schlegel, and others had made of their Oriental learning in support of Christianity, petulantly exclaimed on one occasion. ‘The Brahims have leagued with the Jesuits, in order to sub- vert the Protestant, or (as we should translate that word in this country) the Rationalist religion.” It was in 1808, after several years spent in the study of Sanscrit literature, Schlegel published the result of his researches and meditations in the celebrated work entitled the ‘ Language and Wisdom of the Indians.” ‘This work, the first part of which is occupied with « comparative ex- amination of the etymology and grammatical structure of the Sanserit, Persian, Greek, Roman, and German lan- euages, the second whereof traces the filiation and con- nexion of the different religious and philosophical systems that have prevailed in the ancient Oriental world, and the last of which consists of metrical versions from the’ sacred and didactic poems of the Hindoos—this work, I say, might not be inaptly termed a grammar, syntax, and pro- sody of philosophy. 1 With respect to etymology, Schlegel points out the number of Sanscrit words identical in sound and significa- tion with words in the Persian, or the Greek, or the Latm, or the German, or sometimes even in all those FREDERICK VON SCHLEGEL. 19 languages put together. He excludes words waich are imitations of natural sounds, and which, therefore, might’ have been adopted simultancously by nations wlangaih to each other; and selects those words only which are of the most simple and primitive signification, such as relate to those intellectual and physical objects most closely allied to man; as also auxiliary verbs, pronouns, nouns of number, and prepositions :—words which are less exposed than any to those casual and partial changes which conquest, com- merce, and religion, introduce Tnto language. With re- spect to orammatical structure, the author shows that the mode of declining nouns, and conjugating verbs, of forming the degrees of comparison in adjectives, of marking the gen- der and number of substantives, of changing or modifying the signification of words by prefixed ar ticles, is common to the Sanserit, and the other derivative lane uages above- mentioned. It is from this strong external and internal resemblance, these languages have received the appella- tion of the Indo-Germanic. The prior antiquity of the Sanserit the author infers from the greater length and fulness of its words, and the richness “its refinement of its grammatical forms; for, to use his own expression, “* words, like coin, are clippe od by use, and the languages, ieee Bre vintion prevails, are ever the most recent.” The prescient genius of Leibnitz had foretold, a century and a half ago, that the study of languages would be found one day to throw a great heht on ‘history. No one’ better realised this prediction than Schlegel. In the first part of this work, he has proved, by his own example, that language 1 1s not a mere instrument of knowledge, but a science in itself; and when I consider the noble use he has made of his Sanscrit learning; when I contemplate all the great and brilliant results of his Oriental rescarches, I must recal the sort of regret I expressed a few pages -above. While, in the course of the last fifty years, a number of distinguished naturalists have carried the torch of science into the dark caverns of the earth, traced by its C2 20 THE LITERARY LIFE OY light the physical revolutions of our globe, and discovered the remains of an extinct world of nature; many aillus- trious philologists have at the same time explored the nmost recesses of language, and, by their profound re- searches, brought to light the fossil remains of early his- tory, discovered the migrations of nations and the changes _ of empire, and regained the lost traces of portions of our species. This remarkable parallelism in the moral and physical inquiries of the age, will be considered fortuitous by those only who have not watched the luminous course of that loving Providence, whose hand is equally visible in the progress of science, as in every other department of human activity. But on no branch of historical knowledge have the recent philological researches thrown more light than on mythology—a science which the present age may be said to have created. While illustrious defenders of the Chris- tian religion—a Count Stolberg* in Germany, and still more, an Abbé de la Mennaisf in France, treading in the footsteps of the ancient fathers, and of the abler modern apologists, like Grotius, Huet, and others, have victo- riously proved the existence of a primeval revelation, the diffusion and perpetuity of its doctrines among all the nations of the world, civilised and barbarous—the com- patiblity of a belict in the unity of the God-head with the crime of idolatry, ranked by the apostle, ‘* among the works of the flesh,”’—the local nature and object of the Mosaic law, destined by the Almighty for the special use of a people charged with maintaining, in its purity, that worship of Jehovah mostly abandoned or neglected Py the nations, who, ‘though they knew God, did not orify him as God”—and favoured also with the pro- cry ta) ” intrusted with the mises of ‘ the good things to come, * © Geschichte der Religion.”—1804-1 1. t “ Essai sur l’Inditference en Matiére de Religion :” 4 vols., 8vo, Paris, 1823. A work where learning, eloquence, and philosophy have laid their richest offerings at the shrine of Christianity. ee ee ee! FREDERICK VON SCHLEGEL. | 21 prophetic records of the life and ministry of that oa siah, of whose future coming the Gentiles had onl vague and obscure anticipation -—while these dy tae a defenders of religion, I say, were proving the agreement of all the heathen nations in the ereat dogmas of the pri- mitive revelation; another ciass of inquirers (and among these was Schlegel) laboured to show the points of di- vergence in the different systems of heathenism, studied the peculiar genius of each, and traced the influence which climate, circumstance, and national character have exerted over all. ‘The object of the former was to point out the gencral threads of primeval truth in the fabric of Pa- ganism—that of the latter to trace the later and fanciful intertexture of superstition. Jor in that fantastic web, which we call mythology, truth and fiction, poetry ae history, physics and philosophy, are all curiously inter: woven. Ilence the arduous nature of those researches— hence the difliculties and perils which await the investi- gator at almost every step. Of the second part of this work on India, which treats of the religious and philosophical systems of the carly Asiatic nations, it is the less necessary here to speak, as the reader will find the subject amply discussed in the course of the following sheets. It may be proper, how- ever, to observe,that the different philosophic errors men- tioned by Schlegel, as prevalent in the ancient Asiatic world, may all be resolved to two systems—Dualism and Panthcism—the two carlicst heresies in the history of religion—the two gulfs, into which dark, but presump- Ligue reason fell, eRe rejecting the lieht of revelation, she attempted to explain those unfathomable mysterics— the origin of evil, on the one hand, and the co-existence of the finite and the infinite on the Biter. On the whole, the ‘* Wisdom of the Indians” 1s an admirable little book, whether we consider the profound and extensive philological knowledge it displays—the rich variety of historical perceptions it .discloses—the clearness of its arrangement, the elegant simplicity of 292 THE LITERARY LIFE OF the style. In the seven and twenty years which have elapsed since this production saw the lght, the eubjects discussed in it have undergone ample investigation— many of its observations have passed into the current. coin of the learned world—truths which it vaguely sur- mised, have since been fully established—and the know- ledge of Indian literature and philosophy have been vastly extended ; yet this is one of those works which will be always read with a lively interest. It is thus that, in despite of the progress of classical philology, the writ- ings of the great critical restorers of ancient literature have, after the lapse of three centuries, retained their place in public estimation. It 1s pleasing to watch the stream of learning in its various meanderings—to trace it as its winds through a broader, but not always deeper, channel, sullied and disturbed not anfrenuentl by acci- dental pollutions—it is pleasing to trace it to its source, where, from underneath the rock, it wells out in all its limpid purity. Prior to the publication of this work, the Semitic languages of the East were alone, I believe, cultivated with much ardour in Germany ; its appear- ance had the effect of directing the national energies to- wards an intellectual region, where they were destined to meet with the most brilliant success ; and, if Germany may now boast with reason of her illustrious professors of Sanscrit; if France, under the Restoration, made such rapid progress in Oriental literature ; if Eneland, roused from her inglorious apathy, has at last founded an Asiatic society in London, and more recently, the Boden profes- sorship at Oxford—these events are, in a great degree, attri- butable to the enthusiasm which this little book excited. In the year 1810, Schlegel delivered, at Vienna, a course of lectures on ‘¢ Modern History.” This book, which was in two volumes, 8vo., has long been out of print ; and the volumes destined to contain it in the general collection of the author’s works, have not yet been published. Hence no account of it can be here given—a circumstance which I the more regret, as, in FREDERICK VON SCHULEGEL. 23 the opinion of some, it is Schlegel’s masterpiece. It em- bodied in a systematic form the views and opinions con: tained in a varicty of the author’s earlier historical essays, which are also out of print, and have not yet been re. published. In it, I know, are to be found the detailed proofs and evidences of many positions advanced in the second volume of the work, to which this memoir is pre- fixed. We should, however, form a very inadequate estimate of the services this great writer has rendered to literature, and of the influence he has exerted on his age, were we to confine our attention solely to his larger works. Throughout his whole life, he was an assiduous contri- butor to periodical literature—a species of writing which, in the present age, has been cultivated with signal success in Hineland, France, and Germany. At the commence- ment of the present century, he edited, in conjunction with Tieck, Novalis and his brother, a literary journal, entitled the “ Athenawum;” and afterwards successively conducted political and philosophical journals, such as the ‘ Huropa,’—the ‘German Muscum,’—and lastly, the ‘ Concordia ;” giving, latterly, also, his zealous support to the *¢ Vienna Quarterly Review.” Some of his earlier critiques have already been noticed. Among the shorter literary essays, which appeared in the twelve years that elapsed from 1800 to 1812, I may notice the one entitled “The Epochs of Literature,” 1800; and which may be considered the first rude outline of those immortal lectures on the ‘* History of Literature,” which he delivered in 1812. Often as he has occasion to treat the same subject, yet such is the inexhaustible wealth of his intellect, he scldom tires by repetition. Thus his minutest fragments, hke the sketches of Raphael, are full of interest and variety, Another essay of the same year, ‘‘ On the Different Style in Geethe’s Earlier and Later Works,” shows with what a discriminating eye the young critic had already scanned all the heights and the depths of this wonderful poet Of this great writer, the moral 24 THE LITERARY LIFE OF directior. of some of whose writings he reprobated in the strongest degree, he did not hesitate to say that, lke Dante in the middle age, he was the founder of a new order of poetry—that he had been the first to restore the art to the elevation from which, since the commencement of the seventeenth century, it had sunk—that he united the amenity of Homer—the ideal beauty of Sophocles— and the wit of Aristophanes. The opimon which in youth he had formed of the great national poet of Germany, his maturer experience fully confirmed. Hight years afterwards, he published a long and elaborate critique on Goethe’s lays, songs, elegies, and miscellaneous poems. Pre-eminently great as Goethe is in every branch of poctry, in songs he is allowed to stand perfectly unrivalled. ‘From the shores of the Baltic, to the frontiers of Alsace,” says the Baron d’Kckstein, ** the lyric poetry of _ Goethe lives in the hearts and on the lips of an enthu- siastic people.” In this reviewal we find, among other things, a learned and ingenious dissertation on the various species of lyric pactry—the lay, the romance, the ballad, and the occasional poem; on the nature, object, and limits of each—their points of resemblance, and points of dif- ference, together with observations on the fitness of certain metres for certain kinds of’ poctry. | From his youth upwards, Schlegel was in the habit of secking, in the delightful worship of the muse, a solace ' and relaxation from his severer and more laborious pursuits. Without making pretensions to anything of a very high order, his poetry is remarkable for a chaste, classical diction, great harmony and flexibility of versifi- cation, a sweet elegance of fancy, and, at times, depth and tenderness of feeling. Friendship, patriotism and piety, are the noble themes to which he consecrates his strains. What spirit and fire in his lineson Mohammed's fight from Mecca! What a noble burst of nationality in his address to the Rhine! How touching the verses to the memory of his much-loved friend, Novalis—that weet flower of poesy and philosophy, cut off in its early FREDERICK VON SCHLEGEL. 25 blsuom! In the lines to Corinna, what lofty consolations are administered to that illustrious weman, under the persecutions she had to sustain from the Imperic al despotism of France! And in the sonnet entitled ‘* Peace,” 1806, what lessons of exalted wisdom are given to the men of our time! The longer poem, entitled ‘* Hercules -Musagetes,” is among the most admired of the author’s pieces. His ori- einal poems equal in number, though not in excellence, those of his brother; for it would be absurd to expect that this universal genius should shine equally in every de- partment of letters. The flexible, graceful, harmonious genius of Augustus William Schlegel has at different periods enriched his own tongue with the noblest literary treasures of ancient and modern Italy, of Portugal, Spain and England; and his immortal translations, piseh have superior merit to any original poems, but those of the _Inghest order, are admitted by competent judges .to have done’ more than the works of any writer, except Goethe, for 1 improving the rhythm and poetical diction of his country. ‘Lhe great poetical powers which his short original pieces, as well as his translations display, make it a matter of regret that he should have so much confined himself to translation, and never venture on the compo- sition of a great poem. Both these incomparable brothers are minds eminently poctical, and eminently philosophical. In one, the poetic clement prevails—in the other, the philosophical element, and, by a great deal, predominates. In their early productions we can scarcely discriminate the features of these apparently intellectual twins: but, as their genius ripens to manhood, the one becomes an etherial Apollo, full of grace, energy, and majesty—the other an intel- _ lectual Hercules, of the most gigantic strength and colossal _&tature. It was in the Spring of 1812 that Seilegel delivered, before a numerous and distinguished audience at aetna bis lectures on ancient and modern literature. Of this 26 THE LITERARY LIFE OF work, which a German critic has characterised ‘‘as a vreat national possession of the Germans,” and which has been translated into several Kuropean languages, and is so: well known to the English reader by the excellent trans. lation which appeared in 1818, it 1s unnecessary to speak at much length. Here were concentrated in one focus al! those radii of criticism that this powerful mind had so long emitted. Here, at the bidding of a potent magician, the lords of intellect—the mighty princes of literature of al! times— “© The dead, yet sceptred, sovereigns, who still rule Our spirits from their urns—” pass before our eyes in stately procession—each with his distinct physiognomy—his native port-—and all clothed with a fresh immortality. Literature is considered not merely in reference to art—but in relation to the influence it has exerted on the destinies of mankind, and to the various inodifications which the religion, the government, the laws, the manners, and habits of different nations have caused it toundergo. The first quality that must strike us in this work is the admirable arrangement which has formed so many and such various materials into one har- monious whole. By what an easy and natural transition does the author pass from the Greek to the Roman htera- ture! With what admirable skill he passes, in the age of Hadrian, from the old Roman to the oriental literature, and from the latter. back again to the Christian literature of the middle age! How skilfully he has interwoven, in this sketch of oriental letters, the notices of the ancients and the researches of the moderns on the East! The next characteristic of this work is gigantic learning. To that intimate familiarity with the poets, historians, orators and philosophers of classical antiquity which his earlier writings had displayed—to. the profound knowledge of Oriental, and especially Sanscrit, hterature evinced in the above-noticed work on India—we now see added a know- ledge of the long-buried treasures of the old German and 5k eae AS rT R MeN RnR RT 9 AIT ABA On > ere AEP © FREDERICK VON SCHLEGEL. 27 Provencal poetry of the middle age—the scholastic phi- losophy—the principal modern Kuropean hteratures in their several periods of bloom,. maturity and decay. What a strong light, also, is thrown on some dark passages _ in the history of philosophy! Where shall we find a more curious, graphic, and interesting account of the mystics of the middle age, and of the German and Italian Platonists of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries! Every page bears the stamp of long and diligent inquiry, and original inves- tigation. ‘The minute traits—the accurate drawing— the freshness and vividness of colouring—the truth and life-like reality in this whole picture of literature, prove that the artist drew from the original, and nota copy. No better proof can be adduced of the accuracy as well as extent of learning which distinguished this illustrious man and his brother, than the fact that their different works on classical, oriental and modern literature have received the approbation of such scholars, as made those several branches of knowledge the special objects of their study and inquiry. Thus their labours on Greek and Roman poctry met with the high sanction of a Heyne, a Wolf, and other distinguished Hellenists—their works on Sanserit literature have been commended by a Guig- nault—a Remusat—a Chezy, and our own academicians of Calcutta ; and their critiques on Shakspeare and the early English poets have been approved by the national critics, and especially by one who had devoted many years to the study of our elder poectry—I mean that able critic and ac- complished scholar—the late Mr. Gifford. The other and more important characteristics of this work are delicacy of taste, solidity of judgment, vigour and boldness of fancy, and depth and comprechensiveness of understanding. Here we see united, though in a more eminent degree, the acuteness, sagacity, and erudition of Lessing-—the high artist-like enthusiasm of Winklemann -—and that exquisite sense of the beautiful, that vigorous, flexible and excursive fancy which made the genius ct Herder at home in every region of art, and in every clirae 28 THE LITERARY LIFE OF of poesy. The intellectual productions of Te age and country—the primitive oriental world —classical antiquity —the middle age—and modern times, pass under review, ‘and receive the same impartial attentidn—tune same just appreciation—the same masterly characterisation. In a work so.full of beauties, it is difficult to make selections —but, were I called upon to point out specimens of suc- cinct criticism, which, for justness and delicacy of discrim- ination—a poetic soaring of conception—and depth of ob- servation, are unsurpassed, perhaps, in the whole range of literature, I should name the several critiques on Homer _ —Lueretius— Dante—Calderon—and Cervantes. The part least well done 1s that which treats of the literature of the last two centuries ; but from the vast multiphaty of details, it was impossible for the author, within his narrow limits, to do full justice to this part of his sub- ject. He has not paid due homage to several of the great writers that adorned the reign of Louis XIV. He drops but one word on Pascal, and passes Malle- branche over in silence; though if ever there were writers deserving the notice of the historian of literature and philosophy, 1t was surely those two eminent men. In general, Schlegel was too fond of crowding his figures Within a narrow canvass—hence many of them could not be placed in a suitable light or position; and several of his pone appear but half-sketched. This is not a mere book of criticism—it is a philosophical work in the widest sense of the word—the genius of the author is ever soar- ing above his subject—ever springing from the lower world of art, to those igh and aerial regions of philoso- phy still more native to his spirit. To him the beautiful was only the symbol of the divine—hence the tone of ear- nestness and solemnity which he carries even into awsthe- tic dissertations. The style too, of this ‘History of Litera- ture” leaves little to be desired. To the lightness, clear- ness, and elegance of diction which had distinguished Schlegel’s earlier productions, was here united a greater richness and copiousness of expression, and a more harmoe FREDERICK VON SCHLEGEL. 29 nious fulness and roundness of period. From this time, however, (if an Englishman may presume to offer an opinion on such a subject,) a decline may, I think, be ob- served in his style. His mind, indeed, seemed to gain strength and expansion with the advance of years—the horizon of his views was perpetually enlarged—and in vastness of conception, and profundity of observation, his last philosophical works outshine even those of lis early manhood. Yet to whatever cause we are to attribute the fact—wnhether it be that his last works had not received {rom his hands the same careful revisal—or whether some men as they advance in life, become as negligent in their style as in their dress—or whether he at git gaye in to the bad practice so prevalent in Germany, of disregarding the hghter graces of diction—certain it is, that his later writings, much as they may have gained in excellence of matter, and presenting, as they do, passages perhaps of superior power and splendour, are, on the whole, no longer characterised by the same uniform terseness and perspicuity of language. With the * History of Ancient and Modern Literature,” Schlegel closed his critical career. He never afterwards mounted the tribunal of criticism, except on one occasion, when he awarded in favour of the early poetical effusions of M. de la Martine, a solemn sentence of approbation.* He now devoted himself with exclusive ardour to the graver concerns of politics and philosophy. Nor can we regret this resolution on his part, when we reflect that as far as regards literature, he had done all that was neces- sary—that he had now only to leave to time to work out his asthetic principles in the German mind—and that * In the beautiful critique inserted in the Concordia on M. de la Martine’s “* Meditations Poetiques,” (1820) Schlegel observes that Lord Byron was the representative of a by-gone poesy, and La Martine the herald of a new Christian poetry that was to come. Comparing the three greatest contemporary poets out of his own country, Scott, Byron, and La Martine, Schlegel saw in the produc- tions of the first, the poetry of a vague reminiscence—in those of the second, the poetry of despair ; and in those of the last, the 30 | THE LITERARY LIFE OF should further elucidation on these topics he required, the — distinguished Tieck, and his illustrious brother were at hand to furnish the requisite aid. But in metaphysics and political philosophy, what German could supply his place ? ) In the four eventful years which elapsed from 1808 to 1812, occupations as new to Schlegel as they were im- portant and various in themselves, filled up the active life of this extraordinary man. In the Austrian campaign of 1809, he was employed as secretary to the Archduke Charles; and it 1s said that his eloquent proclamations had considerable effect in kindling the patriotism of the Aus- trian people. It was about the same time he founded a daily paper, called ‘‘ the Austrian Observer,” which has since become the official organ of the Austrian govern- ment. The establishment of this journal—the situation which Schlegel had previously held at the head-quarters of the Archduke Charles—the diplomatic missions in which, after the peace of 1814, he was employed by Prince Metternich, who, be it said to the glory of that illustrious statesman, ever honoured him with his friend- ship and patronage—and finally the pension, letters of no- bility, and office of Ault Councillor, which the emperor was pleased to confer on him, may induce some of my readers to suppose that his political views were identified with those of the government in whose service he was occasionally engaged; and that he was an unqualified ad- commencement of apoetry of hope.* Much as he reprobated the anti-christian spirit and tendency of Lord Kyron’s muse, and mueh as he rejoiced that its pernicious influence was in some degree coun- teracted by the noble effusions of the French rhapsodist, he still rendered full justice to the great genius of the British bard. He calls him in one of his last works, “ the wonderful English poet— perhaps the greatest—certainly the most remarkable poet of our times :’>+—an encomium which Byron’s admirers may learn to ap- preciate, when they remember who his contemporaries were, and who the critic was, that. pronounced this judgment. * See his “ History of Literature,” vol.2 New edition. in Ger. man. t+ ‘* Philosophie des Lelens,” p. 21 : * ST, Sgr esirrepecos 5 = ay eS ICRI Oe i BE RI A Tle Nt A od wom 1 REDERICK VON SCHLEGEL. ; aA mirer of the whole foreign and domestic policy of Aus- tria. No conception can be more erroncous. As secre- tary to the Archduke Charles, he knew he lent his sup- port to a government which had shown itself the most honest, vigilant, and powerful friend of German inde- pendence—he knew he fought the battle of his country against an unholy and execrable tyranny, which, what- ever shape it might assume—whether that of a lawless democracy or a ruthless despotism— was alike inimical ta Christianity—alike fatal to the peace, the happiness, and the liberties of every country it subdued. In the next place, it is not usual, even in the representative system, still less under a government constituted like that of Aus- tria, to exact a perfect conformity of political sentiments between diplomatic agents and the heads of adiministra- tion, Again the pension, title, and dignity which Schle- gel received at the hands of the Emperor of Austria, were the well-earned recompense of distinguished services, and not the badges of servility. Lastly, with respect to to the ‘ Austrian Observer,” his motive in establishing that journal was purely patriotic. To enkindle the war- like enthusiasm of the Austrian people—to unite the weakened, divided, and distracted states of Germany in a cominon league against a common foe—to procure for his country the first of all political blessings—that without which all others are valueless—national independence; such was his object in this undertaking—such the object of every sincere and reflecting patriot uf Germany at that period. ‘Lhe leaning towards a stationary absolutisin, which has marked this journal sinee Schlegel gave up the conduct of it, belongs to its present editors; but that tone of dignified moderation, which, according to the express acknowledgment of German Liberals, it carrics into the discussion of political matters—that aversion from all extreme and violent parties and measures in polities, which distinguishes this journal, betray the illus- trious hand which first set it in motion. | Nothing, in fact, can be nore dissimilar than the policy no THE LITERARY LIFE OY long followed by the Austnan government, and that which Schlegel would have recommended, and did in fact recommend. What, especially since the time of the Emperor Joseph II., has characterised the general poliey of this government? In respect to ecclesiastical matters, (though the evil was mitigated by the piety of the late emperor), we still see that government, by a rest- less, encroaching spirit of jealousy, hamper the jurisdic- tion, and cramp the moral and intellectual energies of the clergy. In relation to the people, its sway 1s mild and paternal, indeed, but at the same time, intrusive, meddling, and vexatious—it is, in short, a dead, mecha- nical absolutism, where all spontaneity of popular action has been destroyed—all equilibrium of powers overturned —and where royalty, by an irregular attraction, has dis- turbed, deranged, or compressed the movements of the other social bodies. With respect to science, those best acquainted with the policy of this government afhrm, that its patronage 1s too exclusively confined to the me- chanical arts and the physical sciences. In short, nowhere has the political materialism of the eighteenth century attained a more systematic development than in the Aus- trian government. Yet in that empire are to be found all the elements of a great social regeneration; and to a minister desirous of earning enduring fame, to a monarch ambitious of living for ever in the hearts of a grateful people, the noblest opportunity is presented for reviving, renovating, and bringing to perfection the free, glorious, but now, alas! mutilated and half-effaced institutions of the middle age If such is the policy of the Austrian government in re- lation to the church, to liberty, and to science, it is need- less to observe how entirely opposed it was to the views of Schlegel. His whole life was devoted to the cultiva- tion and diffusion of elegant titerature and liberal science; and any policy which tended to obstruct their progress, or shackle the energies of the human mind, must have been most adverse to his feelings and wishes. As a sin- FREDERISK VON SCHLEGEL. an cere friend to religious lberty, as well as a good Catholic, he must have deplored the bondage under which the ° Church groaned; and how ardently attached he was to“ the cause of popular freedom. how utterly averse from any thing like absolutism in politics, the reader will soon have an opportunity of judging for himself. But before I quit this subject, I cannot forbear noticing ie very ¢ exaggerated | entail sometimes put forth by party spirit in ‘England, g Suet the state of learning in the Austrian empire. Without pretending to any per- sonal knowledge of that country, there are, however, a certain iiss of admitted and well WiheareaL facts, which prove, that however inferior in mental cultivation ian may be to some other states of Catholic as well as Pro- testant Germany, she yet holds a distinguished place in pean and science. The very gencral diffusion of popular education in that countr y—the g ereat success with which all the arts and sciences eoriectee! with industry are cultivated—the admirable organisation of its medical board—-the distinguished physicians, theoretical as well as practical, whom it has produced—the great attention be- stowed on strategy and the sciences subservient to 1t— the excellence to which the histrionic art has there attained —the universal passion for music, and the unrivalled degree of perfection the art has there reached—the acknowledyed superiority of the Quarterly Review of Vienna,” (the “ Wiener Jahrbiicher’ ’\—lastly, the favour, countenance, and encouragement extended by the tucteen public to the oral icotures and published writings of the eminent literary characters, whether natives or foreigners, who for the last thirty years have thrown such a “glory over their capital-—all these incontrovertible facts, I say, prove this people to have reached an advanced stage of intellectual refinement. So far from finding among the Viennese that Beeotian dulness of which we sometimes hear them azcused, Augustus William Schlegel (and his testimony is impartial, for he is neither a native nor resident Dp 34 THE LITERARY LIFE OF of Austria,) confesses* that he discovered in them great aptness of intelligence, a keen relish for the beauties of poctry, and much of the vivacity of the southern tempe- rament. And the crowded audiences which flocked to the philosophical lectures Frederick Schlegel delivered on various occasions at Vienna, a metaphysician of equal eelebrity might in vain look for in another European capital Pants name, and which certainly considers itself very enlightened. Thereisno doubt that this Archduchy of Austria, which in the middle age produced some of the most celebrated Minnesingers, would, with free insti- tutions and a more generous policy on the part of the overnment, soon attain that intellectual station, to which its political greatness, and recent as well as ancient military glory, alike bid it to aspire. If the statesmen that rule the destinies of that country were to regard the matter merety in a political point of view, they might sce what moral dignity, weight, and importance, the patronage of letters has given to the Protestant Kang of Prussia on the one hand, and to the Catholic Kang of Bavaria on the other. For several years after the peace of 1814, Schlegel was one of the representatives of the Court of Vienna at the diet of Frankfort. ‘These diplomatic functions occa- sioned a temporary interruption to his literary pursuits— an interruption which will be regretted by those only who have not reflected on the advantages of active life to the man of letters, The high dignity with which he was now invested—the commanding view which his station gave him of European politics—the insight he was enabled to obtain into the political state and relations of Germany —as well as the socicty and conversation of some of the most illustrious statesmen of the age, were all of inesti- mable service to the publicist; and by making him acquainted with the excellences as well as defects of * See the Preface to the “ Lectures on Dramatic Literature,” is the French translation. ADT SB) SAAR AERA ara a tert MD KK SS Plea RR par nn h apmeenenetench eet mateLe roneNA ‘0 a NS cee ERO RR ETP RT RRR Er FREDERICK VON SCHLEGEL. oo existing governments, the obstacles which retaid the pro- gress of ‘improvement, the ill success which sometimes attends even well-considered measures of reform, were calculated to check the rashness of speculation, inspire sobriety of judgment, and at the same time enlarge his views of political philosophy. In the year 1818, he returned to Vienna, and resumed his literary occupations with renewed Binnie Iie wrote the following year in the “ Vienna Quarterly Review,” (the ‘* Wiener Jahr- bicher,”) a long and elaborate Gest of M. Rhode’s work on Primitive Ilistory. This reviewal, which from its length may fairly be called a treatise, contains a clear, succinct, and masterly exposition of those views on the early history of mankind, which he has on some points more fully developed in the work, of which a translation isnow given. ‘This article, which alternately delights and eine ie us by the Heamatel learning, the Srslenteoat skill, the curious geographical lore, and the bold, profound and original philosophy it displays, may be pied ran one of fe most admirable commentaries ever written on the first eleven chapters of the book of Genesis; and in none of lus shorter essays has the genius of the illustrious writer shone more pre-eminently than in this.* ‘The year 1820 was marked by the simultaneous out- break of several revolutions in different countries of Hurope, and by symptoms of general discontent, distrust, and agitation in other parts. ‘The violent, though tran- sitory, plea irruptions which convulsed and desolated the south of Murope, scattered sparkles and ashes on the already burning soil of France, and shook on her rocky bed even the ocean-queen. In Germany, the vild revo- lutionary enthusiasm which pervaded a large portion of. the youth—the frenzied joy with which the : assassination of Kotzebue had been hailed—the wide spread of associa- tions fatal to the peace and freedom of mankind, and the pernicious anti-social doctrines proclaimed in man writings, and even from some ROSIE chairs, led the * See “Sammtliche Werke,” vol. x. p. 267, Hn 2 56 THE LITERARY LIFE OF different governments to measures of severe scrutiny and jealous vigilance, likely by a re-action to prove dangerous to the cause of liberty. ‘The causes of these various social phenomena it is not my business here to point out; but I may observe in passing, that these discontents—these struggles—these revolutions, had their origin partly in natural causes, partly in the errors both of governments and nations. The general disjointing of all interests— —the derangement in the concerns of all classes of society produced by the transition from a state of long protracted warfare to a state of general peace—the blunders com- mitted by the Congress of Vienna in the settlement of Kurope—the blind recurrence in some European states to the thoroughly worn-out avsolutism of the eighteenth century, injurious as that political system had proved to religion, to social order, and to national prosperity-—in other countries, a rash imitation of the mere outward forms of the British constitution, without any true knowledge of its internal organism—above all, the deadly legacy of anti-Christian doctrines and anti-social principles, which the last age had bequeathed to the present—such, inde- pendently of minor and miore local reasons, are the principal causes to which I think the impartial voice of history will ascribe the political commotions of that period. It was now evident that the great work of European restoration had been but half-accomplished; and that the malignant Typhon of revolution was collecting his scattered members, recruiting his exhausted energies, and preparing anew to assault, oppress, and desolate the world. Alarmed at the political aspect of Germany and Europe, Schlegel deemed the moment had arrived, when every friend of religion and social order should be found at his post. ‘The importance of the struggle—the viclence of parties—the false line of policy adopted by some govern- ments—the errors and delusions too prevalent even among many of the defenders of legitimacy, rendered the warning voice of an enlightened mediator more necessar than ever. In conjunction with his illustrious friend, FREDERICK VON SCHLEGEL. 37 Adam Miiller, and some of the Redemptorists—a mostable, amiable, and exemplary body of ecclesiastics at Vienna —he established, in 1820, a religious and political journal, entitled ‘* Coneordia.” In a series of articles, entitled Characteristics of the Age, and which contain a most masterly sketch of the political state and prospects of the principal Huropean countnes, Schlegel has given a fuller exposition of his political principles, than in any other of his writings which have come under my notice. The extreme interest and importance of the matters discussed in these articles, and still more, the light they throw on very many passages in the following translation, have induced me to lay before the reader a rapid analysis of such parts as embody the author’s political system. I shall therefore now proceed to this task, premising that . in this analysis I shall occasionally mterweave a remark of my own, to illustrate the author’s views:-— There are five essential and eternal corporations in human socicty—the family—the churc:.—the state—the guild—and the school. . I. ‘The family is the smallest and simplest corporation —the ground-work of all the others;—and on its right constitution and moral development depend, as we shall presently see, the freedom, prosperity, and enlightenment of the state, the guild, and the school, IL. With respect to the church, its constitution under the primitive revelation was purely domestic; religious instruction and the solemnisation of religious offices, beine intrusted to the heads of families and tribes. In the Mosaic law, the Almighty founded a public ministry in the synagogue, which was an admirable type of the future constitution of the Christian church. Unlike the local and temporary synagogue, the Christian church is per- petual and universal—but like the synagogue, it hath a public ministry. ‘This church,” to use Schlegel’s own words, ‘‘is that great and divine corporation which embraces all other social relations, protects them under its vault, crowns them with dignity, and lovingly imparts 38 . THE LITERARY LIFE OF to them the power of a peculiar consecration. The church is not a mere substitute formed to supply or repair the deficiencies of the other social institutes and corpora- tions; but isitself a free, peculiar, independent corporation, pervading all states, and in its object exalted far above them—an union and society with God, from whom it immediately derives its sustaining power.”* ITI. Between these two corporations—the family, that deep, solid foundation of the social edifice below—and the church, that high, expansive and illumined vault above—stands the state. Schlegel defines the state, ‘a corporation armed for the maintenance of peace.” Its existence says he, is bound up with all the other corpora- tions; it lives and moves in them; they are its natural organs;-and as soon as the state, whether with despotic or anarchical views, attempts to impede the natural func- tions of these organs, to disturb or derange their peculiar sphere of action, it impairs its own vital powers, and prepares the way sooner or later for its own aestruction.” IV. There are two intermediate corporations—the guild, which stands between the family and the state; and the school, which stands between the church and the state. By the guild, Schlegel understands ‘“* every species of traffic, industry, and commerce, bound together in every part of the world by the common tie of money.” The object of this corporation is the advancement of the inaterial interests of the family; interests which it is the bounden duty of the state to protect and promote. V. By the school, the author signifies ‘the whole intellectual culture of mankind—not merely the existing republic of letters, but all the tradition of science from the remotest ages to the present times.” ‘This corporation, I should say, has for its object the glorification of the church, the utility of the state, and the intellectual activity of the family, or rather its individual members. But among these primary corporations, it is the state which forms the immediate object of the author’s inquiries. * “ Concordia,” page 59. FREDERICK VON SCHLEGEL. 39 I shall now proceed to lay before the reader the several characteristics which, according to the author, distinguish the Christian state, or the state animated with the spirit of Christianity. §§ I. Lhe Christian state is without slaves, and honours — the sanctity of the nuptial tie. Christianity first mitigated, and then abolished slavery. Slavery is incompatible with the spirit of Christianity, not only on account of the mal-treatment, injuries, and oppression to which it subjects men; not only on account of the dangers to which it exposes female virtue; but chiefly and especially, because the state of slavery is one inconsistent with the dignity of a being made after the likeness of God. This complete emancipation of the lower classes from the bonds of servitude pre-eminently distinguishes the modern Christian states from those of classical antiquity on the one hand, and those of the primitive Oriental world on the other. In the former, domestic and predial slavery were carried to the last. degree of harshness and severity—in the latter, especially in India, a totally different form of servitude existed. There the innocent descendants of those who had been guilty of certain crimes, or who had contracted unlawful marriages, were doomed to a state of irremediable oppres- sion, debarred from all civil rights, and excluded from the very charities of life. ‘The fate of these hapless beings was even harder than that of the slaves among the ancient Greeks and Romans. As the exclusion of a whole class from the rights of citizenship and the. offices of religion is incompatible with the principles of Christian love; so the hereditary transmission of the sacerdotal — dignity is incons'stent with the Christian doctrine, which inculcates the necessity of a divine call to the priesthood. Hence the incompatibility which exists between the system of castes and the Christian religion. . ‘The author shows that the various specics of vassalage are clearly distinguishable from slavery ; yet that even £0 THE LITERARY LIFE OF these have yielded to the benign spirit of Christianity. . The existence of slavery in the Caristian colonies nowise militates against the principle here laid down ; for the slave-trade has ever been condemned by all Christian na- tions as wicked and unjust ; and slavery, the introduction of which into the colonies the church ee so strenuously opposed, was afterwards tolerated by her only as a neces- © sary evil. Tor, as Schlegel observes with his character- istic wisdom, ‘* the sudden abolition of an evil that has become an inveterate habit in society, 1s mostly attended with danger, and frequently works another wrong of an opposite kind.”* But this is one of those truths, which the giddy, reckless spirit of a spurious philanthropy can never be made to comprehend. As the Christian state abhors slavery from its incon- sistency with the dignity of man, so, for the same reason, it guards with jealous vigilance the sanctity and imvio- lability of the nuptial tie. Polygamy degrades woman from her natural rank in society—destroys the happiness of private life—poisons the very well-springs of education —and connected as it too frequently 1s with a traffic in slaves, plunges the male sex into irremediable degra- dation.t ‘This practice is supposed to have originated with the Cainites in the ante-diluvian world ; but for high and prudential reasons, it was tolerated rather than approved under the patriarchal dispensation and_ the Mosaic law. In the ancient Asiatic monarchies, especially in the period of their decline, this usage sometimes pre- vailed to a licentious extent ; but in the modern Maho- inetan states, where polygamy is indulged in to the most hbidinous excess, this.detective constitution of the family has proved one of the greatest barriers to political and intellectual improvement. In ancient Greece and Rome, how far superior was the legislation on marriage! How much more healthful and vigorous was the constitution of domestic society! What * “ Concordia,” page 363. + See “ Concordia.” FREDERICK VON SCHLEGEL. - __ 4) nu fine idea do we conceive of the early Romans, when we read that though the law sanctioned divorce, yet that for the first five honcred years, no individual took ad- vantage of such a law! In the corrupt ages of Imperial Rome, divorce, permitted and practised on the most fn- volous pretexts, was productive of more baneful conse- quences than polygamy 1 in its worst form. Polygamy 1s proscribed in all Christian states. “In the Catholic church, marriage is raised to the dignity of a sacrament 3 divs divorce is not permitted, even in the case of adultery. Itereby woman is invested with the jnigh- est deeree of dignity, and even influence—the union win happiness of the family are best secured—and the peace and stability of the state itself acquire the strongest gua- rantees. It is well known that some of ‘the ablest divines of the Church of Iingland also uphold in all cases the indissolubility of the nuptial tie ; and the British legis- lature, by according divorce only after adultery, and by rendering the obtaining of it a matter of difficulty and expense, “has wisely opposed limitations to the practice. Yet, as was truly observed some years ago in parliament, the increase in the number of applications for divorce, — 1s one among the many signs of the decline of morality in this country. The principal Protestant churches regard marnage as a religious ceremony ; and so the ceneral proposition of Schleeel i 1s correct, Heat all enactanha states recognise the sanctity of the nuptial bond. And here is ‘one of the main causes of the superior happiness, freedom, and civi- lisation enjoyed by Christian nations. § Il. Christian justice ts founded ona system of equity, and the Christian state has from its constitution, an es- sentially pacific tendency. Schlegel observes that the difference between strict law and “equitable law is the most arduous problem in all jurisprudence. Strict law is an abstract law, deduced from certain genoral principles, applied without the least 42 TYE LITERARY LIFE OF regard to adventitious circumstances. Equity, on the other. hand, pays due regard to such circumstances, examines into the peculiar state of things, and the mu- tual relations of parties ; and forms her decisions not ac- cording to the caprice of fancy, or the waywardness of feeling, but eta: to the general principles of right, applied to the variable circumstances and situations of parties. According to the author's definition, the object of the institution of the state is the maintenance of internal and external peace. Justice is the only basis of peace ; but justice is here the means, and not the end. If justice were the end for which the state was constituted, then neither external nor internal peace could ever be procured or maintained ; for the state would then be compelled to wage eternal war against all who, at home or abroad, were guilty of injustice, and could never lay down its arms till that injustice were removed. As peace is essentially the end of that great corporation called the state, it follows that the justice by which its foreign and domestic policy must be regulated, is not that strict or absolute justice spoken of above, but that temperate or conciliatory equity, which is alone apph- cable to the concerns of men. ‘The maxim, ‘a thousand years’ wrong cannot constitute an hour’s nght,” if ap- plied to il jurisprudence, would introduce interminable confusion, hardship, and misery in the affairs of private life, and if applied to constitutional and international law, would lead to perpetual anarchy at home, and to endless, exterminating war abroad. The Christian religion, as 1t comes from God, is emi- nently social—hence it abhors the principle of absolute or inexorable night, whether applied to civil or public law—hence the Christian state, or the state sahiese with the spint of Christianity, is in its tendency essentially pacific. This pacific pobiey of the state, however, so far from © excluding, necessarily implies the firm, uncompromising | ON ET TT I LE fat SEN LIN USNS TREE TI ’ ‘ ' 7 si bea A cade He aA ha er lh: Selene lace dienes debbie ee en a FREDERICK VON SCHLEGEL. $3 vindication of its rights and interests, whether at hame or abroad ; and the repression of evil doers within, or a just war without, is often the only means of attaining the object for which the state was constituted—to wit, the maintenance of peace. On the other hand the revolu- tionary state, or the state where, in opposition to existing rights and interests, new rights and interests are violently enforced ; and where, in subversion of all established in- stitutions, new institutions, conceived according to ab- stract and arbitrary theories, are violently introduced ; the revolutionary state, I say, is, from its nature and origin—no matter what form it may assume—necessarily driven to a course of iniquitous policy—to disorga- nising tyranny within, and to fierce relentless hostility without. Against the pacific character of the Christian state, the bloody wars of Charlemagne with the Saxons, the Cru- sades of a later period, and the religious wars of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries are commonly ob- - jected. In the course of the work, to which this memoir is prefixed, the reader will find these several objections victoriously answered. §§ UI. Zhe Christian state recognises the legal existence of Corporations, and depends on their organic co-opera- tion. The author has before shown that the Christian reli- gion, following the principle of conciliatory equity, recog- nises, without reference to their origin, all existing rights and interests. Hence the Christian religion can co-exist, and has in fact co-existed, with every form or species of government. But there are some governments which, fom their spirit and constitution, are more congenial than others to Christianity ; and it is in this sense we speak of the Christian state. We have already seen that there are five essential and eternal corporations—the family—the church—the state —the guild—and the school. These great corporations LEE NS CONT RTE RYN awees lie rmrN 44 THE LITERARY LIFE OF have each their several and subordinate institutions or corporations, which are accidental and ig gael by nature, and consequently vary with time, place, and cir- cumstances. The Christian state is that which best secures and pre- serves to those essential corporations, and all their subor- dinate institutions, their due sphere of action. Hence our author shows that, under certain circumstances, and in certain countries, the republic, whether democratic or aristocratic, may answer that end as well or even better than monarchy ; and that it is only because, in great empires, monarchy is best calculated to maintain the free development and organic co-operation of corporations, that it may be called, par excellence, the Chnistian state. But what form of monarchy is best adapted for this end? The absolute monarchy* is certainly the least: there then remain only the representative system, and the constitu- tion of the three estates, or, as the (Grermans call that mode of government, Stiinde-verfassung. Schlegel pro- ceeds to examine the respective characteristics of those two forms of government, and to show the points in which they agree, and in which they differ. ‘he con- stitution of estates is the old, legitimate constitution of Kuropean states, whether republican or monarchical ; but in too many countries, this noble institution has been un- dermined by despotism, or destroyed by revolution. On the other hand, the representative system 1s comparatively modern, and, on the continent, has, amid the great con- vulsions produced by the French revolution, sprung out of a detective and superficial imitation of the British constitution. It1is therefore to the latter constitution the author, when he has occasion to treat of the representative system, principally directs the attention of his readers. As to the points of resemblance between this system, _ ® Inanumber of the “Concordia” for 1820, Adam Miiller frankly declared his opinion, that all the friends of sociai order would soon concur in the necessity of re-establishing the constitution of the three estates. ‘This is language which at Vienna is as bold as it is auspicious SAR TR an no 2 © Stir net eu nae RI IERIE FREDERICK VON SCHLEGEL. 45 and the states-constitution, both have legislative assem- blies—in both, petitions and remonstrances are addressed to the throne, and in both, the grant of subsidies rests chiefly with the commons; while to the enactment of every law, the concurrence of the different branches of the legis- lature is essentially requisite. But, mm many important points, these two forms of government totally differ. In . the states-constitution, the crown is invested with more ~ power and dignity. With more dignity, because to the crown landed estates are annexed ; and the sovereign, instead of being a pensioner on the bounty of his parlia- ments, 1s the first independent proprietor:—with more power, because in the representative system, the king, with the single exception of choosing an administration, can perform no act without the sanction of his ministers. Thus, in this political system, according to the author’s remark, the substantial power of royalty is vested in the hands of the ministry. The next point of difference is that the representative system, particularly in [ngland, rests too exclusively on the material basis of property; and that intelligence is there deprived of an adequate share in the national repre- sentation.* In the states-constitution, where the clerical and scientific classes form a separate estate, or distinct branch of the legislature, intelligence is invested with all the dignity and glory which human society can confer. The clergy, who are the representatives of revealed faith, or the fixed and immutable part of intelligence, corre- spond to the aristocracy, or the representatives of fixed property—while the scientific class, representing science, or the variable or progressive part of intelligence, cor- responds to the Commons, the representatives of moveable property. Hence, Francis Baader has ingeniously called *« Those political changes which since Schlegel’s death have oc- curred in the British constitution, while they have deprived proj erty of much of its legitimate influence, have caused intelligence to be even less represented than heretofore in the legislature. 16 THE LITERARY LIFE OF the clergy the Upper House of intelligence, and the scientific class the Lower House.* The last point of difference is that, while in many of the modern representative systems, municipal corpora- tions are despised and rejected, they form the very key- stone of the states-constitution. The revolutionists, wha have had so prominent a share in the formation of these representative governments, know full well that muni- cipal corporations form the best security of the nghts of the family—tke firmest ramparts of popular freedom. They are thus objects of peculiar hatred to men who, so far from wishing the commonalty to obtain stability or cohesion in their constitution, are desirous they should ever remain a loose, shifting mass of disunited atoms, ready to receive any form or impress which despotism may impose. Hence the war which, at different times “ech in different countries, regal or democratic tyranny has waged against these admirable institutions. In the English constitution, on the other hand, which has pre- served so many elements of the old Christian monarchy, the free, municipal institutions have been carefully main- tained. ‘The true internal strength and greatness of England (says Schlegel), consists, as is now almost uni- versally admitted by profound political observers, far more in the vigour and freedom of municipal corpora- tions, better preserved in that country than elsewhere, than in her admired political constitution itself.”t _De- fective in many parts that constitution appeared to the author, yet on the whole, he highly valued the vigo- rously constituted, but temperate and mitigated aristo- eracy of 1688. Ie knew that the remnants of the Old Christian constitution were better there than in any of the great continental monarchies: { that the British go- *-“ Philosophische Schriften,” vol. ii. + See “ Concordia,” p. 66. + According to the just remark of Burke, the states-constitution was, in latter ages, better preserved in the republics than in the monarchies of Furope.—See his “ Letters on a Regicide Peace.” ee ee a ee ee const OT ERO : FREDERICK VON SCHLEGEL. 47 vernment possessed elements of stability as well as of freedom, to which those monarchies, in their existing degeneracy, could in vain pretend; and that the very peculiaritics in the British constitution, to which he most strongly objected, had their origin in local circumstances, deep-rooted wants, and remote historical events. That extreme jealousy of regal power which that constitution betrays—that undue preponderance of property over in- telligence—that political preponderance of the aristo- cracy, which, though rendered necessary by the exces- sive depression of royalty and of the clergy, was certainly calculated to impede the organic development: of the democracy, and thereby to expose the body politic to dangerous revulsions—in fine, that fierce collision of parties, which that constitution nurses and encourages— all reveal the fearful struggles by which it came into life. The imitation of this constitution which, by bringing back to the European nations the reminiscence of their ancient freedom, has naturally excited their enthusiastic admiration—the imitation of that constitution, I say, difficult at all times, has been rendered in some countries utterly impracticable by the studious rejection of two of the great hinges on which, for a hundred and fifty years, it has turned—I mean the predominance of the aristo- cracy on the one hand, and the free, municipal organisa- tion of the commonalty on the other. In many of the German states, as the author observes, the representative system works well ; because the legislators have had the wisdom to connect the new with anterior institutions. On the whole, what has been said of the Gothic archi- tecture, may be applied to the old Christian monarchy —it was never brought to perfection. ‘That lofty ideal of government, which Chnistianity had traced to the nations of the middle age—that admirable constitution, which was a partial reflection of the constitution of the church itself; and wherein were blended and united the principles of love and intelligence, stability and activity —in other words, where a paternal royalty, an enlight- 48 THE LITERARY LIFE OF encd priesthood, a mild aristocracy, a loyal, yet free spirited, commonalty controlled, aided, balanced, and defended each other—that lofty ideal has never been— probably never will be—fully realised. Yet there are many reasons to suppose that a momentous, and not very distant, futurity will be charged with realising, as far as human infirmity will permit, this ideal conception of the Christian state. Such is an outline of the principal features in Schlegel’s | system—a system which I have endeavoured, as far as my feeble powers permitted, to explain, illustrate, and enforce. But while in the eas: of Germany, this great luminary and his satellite were shedding their mild radiance of political wisdom, a star of the first magnitude rose above the western horizon of Germany, and filled the surround- ing heaven with the splendour of its light. The illus- trious Goerres, already celebrated for his profound re- searches in archzology, and many admirable political writings, published in 1819 his work, entitled ‘* Germany and the Revolution,” which produced so extraordinary a sensation, and was at this time so ably translated by Mr. Black. ‘This work was followed in 1821 by that writer’s still more wonderful production, entitled ‘‘ Hurope and the Revolution,” a production which in the soundness of its doctrines—the generosity of its sentiments—the depth and comprehensiveness of its views—and the copiousness, and variety of historical illustration brought forward in their support—surpasses perhaps all the mehty works in defence of social order and lberty which the momentous events of the last fifty years have called forth im different parts of Hurope. With a few slight shades of difference, the political views of Goerres mainly accord with those of Schlegel ; but, living under the government of Ba- varia, the former is able boldly to proclaim truths which the latter at Vienna was able only to hint. Goerres unites the strong, practical sense of Gentz—the masterly learning and profound and comprehensive understanding ee eee ee i ltl i lela li ad ‘ i F aati y My Tel tah ch lacatsde Seetanesanictanstou ab ier hdr ituca: 4 ceaeiea chelate ie edad oat ita daca aia adel FREDERICK VON SCHLEGEL. 49 of F. Schlegel—to great boldness of character, and a style of peculiar force and condensation. While the po- litical glance of Schlegel was mostly directed towards the ast—that of Gentz to the present hour—the eye of Gea is turned more particularly to the future. Had the counsels of this illustrious man been more generally followed, the perilous crisis, 11 which for the last five ears Germany has been involved, would have been ee averted, or at least better provided against. Him- self and Schlegel may be considered as the supreme oracles of that illustrious school of liberal conservatives, founded by our great Burke, and which numbers besides the eminent Germans, whose names have already been mentioned, a Baron de Haller in Switzerland—a Vis- count de Bonald in France*—a Count Henri de Merode in Beleium—and a Count Maistre in Piedmont: men whose writings contain, in a greater or less degree, the seeds of the future political regeneration of Kurope. While engaged in the editorship of the ‘* Concordia,” Schlegel gave a new edition of his works, with consider- able improvements and augmentations, Actively as his time had been employed, a long period had now elapsed since he .had given any great production to the world ; and he was now preparing those immortal works, which were to shed so bright an effulgence round the close of his life. In the rapid review which has been here taken of his critical, philological, and historical writings, nothing has been said of his philosophical pursuits ; and yet philo- sophy was his darling study — philosophy, which the ancients called ‘‘ the science of divine and human things,” was alone capable of filling the vast capacity of Schlegel’s * Among these great conservatives, M. de Bonald is the only one who can be regarded as favourable to absolutism. As Jong as this great writer deals in general propositions, he seldom errs; but when he corues to apply his principles to practice, then the pclitical pre- judices in which he was bred, and which a too limited course cf _ reading has failed tu correct, lead him sometimes into exaggerations and errors. On the whole, hie is as inferior to Burke as a publicist, as he is superior to him as a metaphiysician. E 50 _ THE LITERARY LIFE OF mind. At the age of nineteen, he had already read all the works of Plato in their original tongue; and six-and- thirty years afterwards, he expressed a vivid recollection of the delight and enthusiasm which the perusal had ex- cited in his youthful mind. In 1800, he commenced his Silgesbhvesl career at the University of Jena, before an admiring audience ; we have already seen him at Paris, amid his philological labours, devoting a portion of his time to the cultivation of philosophy; and, amid all the struggles and occupations of his subsequent life, he would | ever and anon snatch some moment to pay his homage to this celestial maid—this mistress of his heart—this object of his earliest enthusiasm and latest worship. A very distinguished friend and disciple of Schlegel’s, the Baron d’Eckstein, asserts that, towards the close of the last century, a confederacy was formed among some men of the most superior minds, for the regeneration of natural science—for the revival of the lofty physics ot remote antiquity, when nature was regarded only as the splendid and almost transparent veil of the spiritual world. The members of this intellectual association were Schel- ling, the two Schlegels, the poet Tieck, Novalis, and the celebrated geographer, Ritter. ‘This confederacy was dissolved, when the pantheistical tendency of Schel- ling’s philosophy became more apparent ; and Frederick Schlegel, in particular, became afterwards the most stre- nuous and formidable opponent of a philosophic sys- tem which appeared to him, and mghtly enough, only more subtle and refined Spinosism. On the tru: nature of this philosophy, however, opinion was much divided; many religious men among the Protestants ranged them- selves under its banners ; even some of the orthodox en- tered into terms of accommodation with it; and the great Catholic theologian, Zimmer, thought that, by means of this system, he could obtain a clearer conception of the great Christian mystery of the Trinity. [Enormous as may be the errors contained in this philosophy, yet, as'few philosophic systems are entirely erroneous, the Pe BON MA IP Mi 7A Hen WAR RORPR ORCL Im an Pry Fah a al aden . . - , = = as FREDERICK VON SCHLEGEL. 51 philosophy of Schelling, which appears to have under- gone a purification in its course, has been attended with some beneficial results. It has led to a more profound and spiritual knowledge of nature—it has been, to many, a point of transition from the materialism and rationalism of the eighteenth century to the Christian religion—and, indeed, this effect it has had on the illustrious founder himself, who has for some years returned to the bosom of Christianity, and who probably will be remembered by posterity more for his recent labours as a profound Christian naturalist, than for the pantheistic reveries of his youth.* | Schlegel’s earlier philosophical, as well as historical, works are no longer to be met with, and have not yet been re- yublished. In the *‘ Corcordia,” for 1820, we find an out- fe of those lectures on the Philesophy of Life, which the author delivered at Vienna, in the year 1827. ‘This work immediately preceeded the one to which this memoir is prefixed; and, as it embodies those general philosophical principles, of which in the latter an application is made * This view of the matter is confirmed by the high authority of the great Catholic philosopher—Molitor. Speaking of Scheilingand his disciples, he says (in the words of his recent French translator) : “ Quoique leurs premicrs euvrages ne respirent pas encore enticrement Pesprit pur et vésitable, mais soient entachés plus ou moins de pan- théisme ou de naturalisme, comme cela étoit presque necessaire a une époque encore si profondément enfoncce dans l’incrédulité et Vorcueil, cependant leurs principes ont eveillé Vesprit religieux, et donné une base plus profonde aux verités de cet ordre. C'est dans _ ce sens qu’on a retravaillé toutes les sciences, et lou peut dire que ces hommes ont plus contribué a conduire vers la religion, que cette multitude de compendiums dogmatiques du siécle dernier.” Ee ther adds: “ On peut se faire une idée de la direction religieuse de la physique par les écrits de Steffens, Schubert, Pfaff, et Baader. Cet esprit conduira encore ade plus grands resultats; et bientot de - nouvelles découvertes faites au ciel étoilé, sur la terre et dans son intérieur, aussi bien que dans l’organisme, affermiront et mettront dans une nouvelle lumitre ces hautes verités connues des anciens, mais que le sens stupide des modernes rejetait comme des songes et des superstitions.” pp- 165-6, “ Philosophie dela ‘Tradition, tra duite de l’Allemand.” Paris. 1834. a “2 §2 | THE LITERARY LIFE OF to history, a rapid analysis of its doctrines, particularly in tke Revehlotical and ontological parts, will be useful, nay, almost necessary, to the elucidation of many passages in the following it But how can I attempt the analysis of a work where the arrangement of a formal, didactic discussion is studiously avoided—where the author pours forth his thoughts with all the freedom of conversation— high, spiritual conyersation—where such 1s the exuberant fulness of his ideas, such the shadowy subtilty of his per- ceptions, that even the German language, copious and philosophical as it is, seems at times inadequate to their expression, Long as Germany had been habituated to the genius of Schlegel, she herself seems to have been startled by the appearance of a work where the boldest, the most unlooked for, the sublimest vistas of philosophy were opened to her astonished view. Bespeaking then the indulgence of the reader, I will now proceed to lay before him an outline of some of the principal ideas on psychology and ontology, contained in _ the Philosophy of Life. The consciousness of man is composed of mind, soul, and body. The soul is the centre of consciousness. The consciousness of man may be best understood by comparing it with that of other created beings. The existence of brutes is extremely simple—they have only a body—they have no mind—they have, properly speaking, no soul—at least, their soul is completely mingled with their corporeal frame; so that on the destruction of the latter, it reverts to the elements, or 1s absorbed in the general vitul energy ot nature (Natur-seele). In the scale of existence superior to man, the angelic spirits are represented in Holy Writ, and in the traditions of all nations, as pure, intellectual beings, devoid of a gross corporeal frame. But have they no body whatsoever? Schlegel ascribes to them what he calls in his beautiful language, ‘an etherial body of light.” This opinion, it must be confessed, has comparatively few sup- porters in the modern schools of theology, whether in the Catholic or Protestant churches; but 11 was maintained FREDERICK VON SCHLEGEL. bys Ly many of the ancient fathers, and, in modern times, it has met with the high sanction of the great Leibnitz. Schlegel assigns no reason for his opinion; but I have means of knowing that another great Christian philosopher of the age has, in his unpublished system of metaphysics, adduced very cogent arguments in support of this theory. With the exception of this subtle, etherial, luminous body, the celestial spirits, according to the author, are nothing but intelligence or mind. ‘They have, strictly speaking, no soul; for the distinctive faculties of the soul (as will be presently shown) are reason and imagination; and these faculties cannot be ascribed to beings in whom an intuitive understanding needs not the slow deductions, and analytic process of reason; nor wants a medium of communication with the world of sense, like imagination. Hence the lines of the great German poet fully represent the difference, as well as the resemblance, in the intellectual action of man and the angelic spirits: * Science, O man, thou shar’st with higher spirits ; But Art thou hast alone.” Hence the nature of brutes is simple—that of angels two- fold—that of men three-fold. The third part cf human consciousness, the body—its organic laws, powers, and properties, the philosopher must leave to the naturalist. It is only when it has refer- ence to the higher parts of consciousness that its proper- ties can be made the matter of his investigation. ‘The’ soul and the mind form the fit and peculiar subject of his inquiries. To the mind belong the faculties of will and understanding—to the soul, those of reason and imagina- tion. Schlegel observes it is remarkable that the three different species of mental alienation correspond to the three parts of human. consciousness. ‘Thus monomania springs from some error deeply rooted in the mind—frenzy is the disorder of a soul that has broken loose from all the restraints of reason; and idiotcy arises from some organic 54 THE LITERARY LIFE OF defect inthe brain. The last is the effect of physical, the two former the consequence of moral, mo frscubatly accidental, causes. ‘The author lays it down as a general principle, subject, however, to many modifications and exceptions, that in man mind or thought predominates-— in woman soul or feeling prevails. Hence in marriage, which 1s a sacred union se souls, the deficiencies in the psychology of either sex are happily and mutually sup- pled. On this subject, Schlegel has some of the most touching and beautiful reflections, which a loving heart and a noble fancy have ever inspired. Imagination (Hinbildungs-kraft) is the inventive faculty —Reason( Vernunft) the regulative— Understanding ( Ver- stand) the penetrative, or ina higher degree the intuitive —and the Will (Wille) the moral, faculty. To these primary faculties, or, as the author styles them, these main boughs of human consciousness, four sccondary faculties are subservient—the memory—the conscience—the pas- sions or natural impulses, and the outward senses. ‘Lhe memory is the intermediate faculty between the under- standing and the reason—the conscience the intermediate faculty between the reason and the will—the passions or natural impulses the intermediate faculty between the will and the imagination—and the outward senses form the connecting link between imugination and the body. Reason is the regulative faculty implanted in the soul. In real life, 1t corresponds to what we commonly call judgment, and is that faculty by which the transactions of men are regulated, and the resolutions of the will are brought to maturity, whether in sacred or secular concerns. In science, reason is the dialectical or analytic faculty, by which the discoveries of imagination and the percep- tions of the understanding receive a definite form—the faculty of analysis, arrangement, and combination. Reason in itself is not inventive—it makes no discoveries—it 18 rather a negative than a positive faculty—but it is the FREDERICK VON SCHLEGEL. 55 indispensable arbitress, to whose decision understanding and imagination must submit their various productions. Imagination, on the other hand, is the inventive faculty in art, poctry, and even science. No great discovery, says the autnor, can be made even in the mathematics, with- out imagination. ‘This assertion may strike us as strange; but we must remember that Leibnitz declared he was led to his great methematical discoveries by the aid of meta- physics; and that imagination necessarily enters into the - composition of a great metaphysical genius, few will be _ disposed to question. Here, however, if I may be allowed to offer an opinion, Schlegel does not appear to me to have traced, with sufficient distinctness, the boundaries between imagination and understanding. Understanding is the faculty of apprehension—it pene- trates into the inward essence of things, and discerns the manifestations of the divine or human mind in their several revelations and communications. —Thus the natur- - alist, whose eye searches into the inward hfe of nature— the statesman, who can fathom the most deep-laid plans of a hostile policy—the theologian, who can discover the most hidden sense of Seripture, may be said to passess in an eminent degree, the faculty of understanding. Will is the other faculty implanted in the mind of man —the faculty on whose good or evil direction that of all the other faculties of mind and soul essentially depends. Independently of the moral direction of the will, its imnate streneth or weakness, its steadiness or vacillation, propor- tionally augment or diminish the power of all the other faculties. How far moderate abilities, when directed by a firm, tenacious, perseverant will can avail—to what a degree of success they may sometimes lead, daily expe- rence may scrve to convince us. Originally all these faculties, will and understanding, reason and imagination, were harmoniously blended and united in the human consciousness; but since, at the fall of man, a dark spirit interposed its shadow betwixt lim ntti esee rere ewer seeeemnrgertenrmnme-seerterriechnnetnbrmreqeetnt ies ite cst using anserpaeste rec vanelatsn drs tet earn pet finery eter ei wa eg RE SR Pe II REIN IS DPC A TE NE TET IS OT TEE LT . 2 * 2 56 THE LITERARY LIFE OF and the Sun of Righteousness, disorder and confusion have entered into his mind and soul, and troubled. their . several faculties. Thus the understanding often points cut a course which the will refuses to follow; and the will, on the other hand, is often disposed to pursue the good and right path, were the blind or narrow understanding competent to direct it. Not only are will and under- standing in frequent collision with one another, but each is at variance with itself{ What the will resolves to-day it shrinks from to-morrow! How often does the under- standing view the same subject in a different light at different times! How much do time, circumstance, and humour, place the same truth in a clearer or obscurer aspect! ‘Lhe same opposition is observable betwixt reason and imagination. Where fancy is the strongest in the house, how often doth she spurn the warnings of her more homely and unpretending sister—reason. Again, where reason has the ascendancy, what groundless aver- sion and paltry jealousy does she not frequently evince at the superior nature of her brillant sister! Or, to drop this figurative language, how often do we behold a man of lofty imagination very deficient in practical sense; and again, In your man of strong sense, how frequently dull and pedestrian is the fancy! In real life what a deplor- able schism exists between poets and artists on the one hand, and men of business on the other! What mutual contempt and aversion do they not frequently exhibit! Well, thus schism is nothing else than the external realisa- tion of the inward contlict between reason and imagination. With respect to the four secondary faculties—memory —conscience—the natural impulses—and the outward senses—faculties, which, as the author says, cannot from their importance be termed subordinate, but should rather be called susidiary or assigned;—Schlegel shows that, as regards the first, the decay of the memory precedes the decline cf the reason, and its sudden and entire loss brings about the extinction of the latter faculty. In the same way the deadness of the conscience argues the utmost FREDERICK VON SCHLEGEL. ‘Sy depravity of the will. The conscience is the memory of the will, as the memory is the conscience of the under- standing. ‘The natural impulses,” says Schlegel, ‘‘ where they appear exalted to passion, are to be regarded as nothing else but the motions of a will, that has been overpowered by the false illusions of imagination.. The middle position of the impulses betwixt the will and the imagination, as well as the abused co-operation of those two faculties in any passion or sensual gratification, become habitual, 1s apparent particularly in those inclinations which man has. in common with the brute, and where the viciousness lies only in their excess or violence.* Aspiration after infinity is natural to man, and belongs essentially to his being. Whatever is defective or disorderly in his impulses consists only in their unbounded gratification—in the perversion of that aspiration after infinity towards perish- able, sensual, material, and often most unworthy objects; for that aspiration, natural as it is to man, where it 1s pure and genuime, can be gratified by no sensual indulgence and no earthly possession.” In the brute, the gratifica- tion of the natural appetites is regular, uniform, subject to no vicissitudes or excesses, and entails no injury on his - nature, because undisturbed and unvitiated by the false illusions of imagination. Lastly, with regard to the outward senses, there are, philosophically speaking, but three, sight, hearing, and touch—for under the last, taste and smell are included; and it isremarkable how these severally correspond to the three parts of human consciousness. The sight is pre- eminently the sense of the mind—hearing the sense of the soul—while the touch is peculiarly the sense of the body; the sense given to the body for its special protection and preservation. The loss of the first two senses the body _ can survive-—but it perishes with the utter extinction of # « Philosophie der Sprache,” p. 118—19. t Ibid., p. 121. NORE SRR TERETE ' aR See ee TT ras thea: cect mee ° ate eat io ee 4 ~ PER TIOGA, is Males a haan 58 THE LITERARY LIFE OF the last. Those expressions in common parlance, a good artist-like eye—a fine musical ear—prove the close con- nexion which mankind has always felt to exist between the outer senses and the higher faculties of man. ‘¢ Had the soul,” says the author, ‘‘ not been originally derkened and troubled—had it remained in a clear, luminous repose in its God—then the human conscious- ness would have been of a far more simple nature than at present; for it would have consisted only of understanding, soul, and will. Reason and imagination, which are now in such frequent collision with the will and understanding, as well as with each other, would then have been absorbed in those higher faculties. Even the conscience would not then have been a special act, or special function of the judgment—but a tender fecling—a gentle, almost uncon- scious pulsation of the soul. ‘The senses and the memory, those ministrant faculties which, in the present dissonance of the human consciousness, form so many distinct powers of the soul, would, in its state of harmony, have been ~ mere bodily organs.”* So much for the author’s psychology—let us now proceed to the ontological part of the work. To the Supreme Being, will and understanding belong in a supreme degree; in him they exist in the most perfect harmony—will is understanding, and under- standing will. But with no propriety can the faculty of reason be ascribed to the Deity; and ‘it is remarkable,” | says the author, ‘ that nowhere in Holy Writ, nor in the _sacred traditions of the primitive nations, nor in the writings of the great philosophers of antiquity, is the term reason ever used in reference to Almighty God. It is only among a few of the later, degenerate, and ration- alist sects of ;hilosophy, the Stoics for example, that the expression Divine Iteason 1s ever met with. If such an expression is Incorrect or unsound, with still less fitnesy * “ Philosophie des Lebens,” p. 143. oh ee ta Wap ralelg. recurs AE NE RR Ae RS REO ON ET IN BOTT PREIS RL TE NTH EET i? ‘ FREDERICK VON SCIILEGEL. 59 and decorum can the faculty of imagination be assigned to the God-head—the very term would shock the under: standings, and revolt the inmost feelings, of all men. The Deity reveals himself unto men in four different ways—in Scripture (including of course its running and necessary commentary, ecclesiastical Tradition); — in Nature—in Conscience, and in History. . “ Holy Writ,” says the author, ‘¢as it is delivered to ‘us, and as it was begun and founded thrce-and- -thirty centuries ago, does not exclude the elder sacred traditions of the preceding two thousand four hundred years; or the revelation, which was the common heritage of the whole human race. On the contrar y, 1b contains very explicit allusions to the fact, that such a revelation was imparted to the first man, as Well as to that patriarch who, after the destruction of the primeval world of giants, was the second progenitor of mankind. As the sacred know- ledge derived from this revelation flowed on every side, and in copious streams over the succeeding generations of men, the ancient and holy traditions were soon disfigured, and covered over with fictions and fables; where, amid a multitude of remarkable vestiges and glorious traits of true religion, immoral mysteries and Bacchanalian rites were often iMomntreniee and truth itself, as in a second chaos, buried under a mass of contradictory symbols. Thence arose that Babylonish confusion of languages, sagas, and symbols, which’ is universally found among the ancient, and even the primitive nations. In the ereat work of the restoration of true religion, which accord- ingly we must regard asa second ravelation!} or rather asa second stage of’ revelation, a rigid proscription of those heathen fictions, and of all the immorality connected with them, was the first and most essential requisite. But in that gospel of creation, which forms the introduction to the whole Bible, that elder revelation, accorded to the _first man and to the second rogenitor, 1s expressly laid down as the ground-work; and in this introduction we shall find 60 THR LITERARY LIFE OF the clue to the history and religion of the primitive world , — —nay, it is the true Genesis of all historical science.”* Now with respect to the secondary or more indirect modes, by which the Deity communicates himself to men, the author observes, that ‘‘ Nature, too, is a book written on both sides, within and without, in which the finger of God is clearly visible:—a species of Holy Wnit, in a bodily form—a glorious panegyric, as it were, on God’s omnipotence, expressed in the most vivid symbols. To- “gether with these two great witnesses of the glory of the Creator, Scripture, and nature—the voice of conscience 1s an inward revelation of God—the first index of those other two greater and more gencral sources of revealed truths; while History, by laying before our eyes the march of Divine Providence—a Providence whose loving agency is apparent as well in the lives of individuals as in the social career of nations—History, I say, constitutes the fourth revelation of God.’ We have next to consider the conduct of Divine Providence in the education of the human race. How do we educate the boy? We first endeavour to awaken his sense—then we cultivate his soul, or his moral faculties; while at the same time, we aid the gradual unfolding of his understanding. It is so with the divine education of mankind. In the primitive relation indecd, the first man received the highest intellectual illumination; an illumi- nation, which, though at his fall it was obscured by sin, still shines with a shorn splendour through all the history and traditions of the primeval world. When, however, by the abuse he had made of his great intellectual powers, man was successively deprived of all those high gifts with which he had been originally endowed; when by the errors of idolatry he had lapsed into a state of intellectual infancy; then it was necessary that his sense should first be awakened to divine things; and this was accomplished in the Mosaic revelation. But this revelation was only * “ Philosoph‘e des Lebens,” pp. 86—=7. + Ibid., p. 85. a a ih Oa la BR an eben) TT Ria ; Wo ope ce ott er erdhn Sy etait aati nt Figg r temtyns bie ae cert RMR te EAN IT PRON NaEy Ry Set PCE ERO ECE A RN NA RM PE FREDERICK VON SCHLEGEL. | 61 reparatory to another, destined to renovate the soul of Ati and gradually illumine its intelligence. This regencration of the moral faculties of man was achieved immediately and directly by Christianity; for, without | this moral regeneration, any sudden illumination of the intellect would have been hurtful rather than beneficial to mankind. Under the benign influence of Christianity, the scientific enlightenment of the human mind has been wisely progressive; but 16 scems reserved for the last clorious ages of the triumphant church to witness the full meridian splendour of human intelligence. Then the great scheme of creation will be fulfilled; and the intellectual hight which played around the cradle’ will brighten the last age of humanity. Let us now proceed to consider nature in herself, and in her relations to God, to the spiritual intelligences, and to man. | Nature was originally the beautiful, the faultless work of the Almighty’s hand. But the rebel angel in his fall brought disorder and death into all material creation. Hence arose that chaos, which the breath of creative Power only could remove. ‘Thus, according to the author, a wide interval occurs between the first and second verse of Genesis. ‘‘In the beginning,” says the inspired historian, ‘‘ God made heaven and earth,” that is, as the Nicene Creed explains it, the visible and invisible world. ‘'And the earth was without form, and void ; and darkness was upon the face of the deep.” But that void—that darkness—that chaos proceeded not from the luminous hand of an all-wise and all-perfect Maker—but from the disturbing influence of that fiend whom Holy Writ hath called, with such unfathomable depth, the ‘‘ murderer from the beginning.” Hence Schlegel terms him in his sublime language, “ the author or original of - death” —( Ertinder des Todes). : On a subject of such vast importance, I presume not to offer an opinion : but I must merely content myself with the humble task of analysis. It may be proper to ob- 62 THE LITERARY LIFE OF serve, however, that this opinion of Schlegel’s would seem, from a passage in the work of the great Catholic | writer, Molitor, to be consonant with the tradition of the ancient synagogue. ‘The Cabala” says he, “was di- vided into two parts—the theoretical and the practical. The former was composed of the patriarchal traditions on the holy mystery of God, and the divine persons ; on the ate! creation and the fall of the angels ; on the origin of the chaos of matter, and the renovation of the world in the six days of the creation; on the creation of man, his fall, and the divine ways conducive to his re- storation.’”* ‘‘ Death,” says Schlegel, ‘‘ came by sin into the world. As by the fall of the first man, who was not created for death, nor originally designed for death, death was trans- mitted to the whole human race; so by the preceding fall of him, who was the first and most glorious of all created spirits, death came into the universe, that is, the eternal death, whose fire is inextinguishable. Hence it 1s said : * Darkness was upon the face of the deep, and the earth was without form, and void’—as the mere tomb- stone of that eternal death ; but the Spirit of God moved over the waters, and therein lay the first vital germ of the new creation.’ “+ But if such is the origin of nature, how is its existence perpetuated, and what will be its final destiny ? Nature, as was said above, is a book of God’s reve- lation, written within and without. The outer part of this sacred volume attests the supreme power, wisdom, and goodness of the Creator in characters too clear and luminous to be unperceived or misread by the dullest or the most vitiated eye. The inner pages of this book comprise a still more glorious revelation of God—but their language is more mysterious, and much which they contain scems to have been wiscly withheld, or rather * See “ Philosophie de la Tradition, traduite de i’ Allemand,” p. 26. Paris, 1834. tT ‘“ Philosophie des Lebens,” p. 126. ¥REDERICK VON SCHLEGEL. 62 withdrawn from the knowledge of mankind. It was this acquaintance with the internal secrets of nature, de- rived partly from revelation, and partly from intuition, which gave the men of the primitive, and especially the antediluvian, world such a vast superiority over all the succeeding generations of mankind. But 1t was the abuse of that knowledge, also, which brought about in the primeval world a Satanic delusion, and a gigantic moral and intellectual corruption, of which we can now scarcely form the remotest idea. But this key to the imward scicnce of nature, which was taken away from a corrupt world, that had so grossly abused it, seems now about to be restored to man, renovated as his soul and intelligence have been by a long Christian education. ‘The physical researches of the last fifty years, especially in Germany, lead the inquirer more and more to the knowledge of this important truth, stamped on all the pages of ancient tra- dition, and never eflaced from the recollection of man- kind, to wit, the action of spiritual intelligences on the material world. The nature of this action is briefly adverted to in the following passage (among many others to the same purport),in the ‘ Philosophy of Life.” ‘* Itis especially of importance,” says the author, ‘for the understanding of the general system of nature, to observe how the modern chemistry mostly dissolves and decom- poses all solid bodies, as well as water itself, into different forms of elements of air, and thereby has taken away from nature the appearance of rigidity and petrifaction. There are everywhere living elemental powers hidden and shut up under this appearance of rigidity. The quantity of water in the air is so great that it would suffice for more than one deluge; a similar inundation of light would occur, if all the light latent in darkness were at once set free ; and all things would be consumed by fire, if that clement, in the quantity in which it exists, were suddenly let loose. ‘The salutary bonds, by which these elemental powers are held in due equilibrium, one bound by the other, and kept within its preser-bed limits, I will 64 - (HE LIVERARY LIFE OF not now make a matter of investigation ; nor now exa- mine the question, whether these bonds be not perhaps of a higher kind than naturalists commonly suppose.” The great apostle of the Gentiles represents all nature as sighing for her deliverance from the bondage of death. ‘“‘ Every creature groaneth and travaileth in pain, even now.” Some chapters in the ‘ Philosophy of Life” may be considered as one lumincus commentary on that text. My limits will permit me to cite but one passage. ‘That planetary world of sense, and the soul of the earth imprisoned therein, 1s only apparently dead. Nature only sleeps, and may again be awakened: and sleep is, if not the essence, yet a characteristic mark of nature. Iver thing in nature hath this quality of sleep; not the mR merely, but the plants also sleep; and in the course of the seasons on the surface of the globe, there is a constant alternation between waking and slumber.” .. . ‘ That soul,” he continues, ‘* which slumbers under the prodigious - tombstone of outward nature—a soul, which is not alien, but half akin to us—is divided between the troubled, painful reminiscence of eternal death, in which it orginated, and the bright flowers of celestial hope, which grow on the borders of that dark abyss. For this earthly nature, as Holy Writ saith, is indeed subjected to nothing- ness—yet without its will, and without its fault: so it looks forward in expectation of Him who hath so subjected it —it looks forward in the hope that it may one day be free —one day have a share in the general resurrection and consummate revelation of God’s glory; and for this last great day of future creation nature anxiously sighs, and yearns from her inmost soul.”* I will now wind up this analysis with the following passage, in which the distinctive peculiarities of the dif- ferent parts of ontology are shortly stated: ‘* The distince- tive characteristic of nature is sleep, or the struggle between life and death; the distinctive characteristic of man 1s imagination (for reason is a more negative faculty); * “ Philosophie des Lebens, p. 129. i ee een een FREDER.CK VON SCHLEGEL. 648 the distinctive characteristic of the intelligences superior to man is restless, eternal activity, implanted in the very constitution of their being; and the distinctive character- istic of the Deity, in relation to his creatures, is infinite condescension.” Such is a brief summary of some of the principal | observations in the psychological and ontological parts of the ‘* Philosophy of Life.” And in this summary it has ‘been my intention not so much to give an analysis of those parts, as to convey to the reader a clue for the better understanding of many passages in che work I have trans- lated. ‘The remaining parts of the ‘* Philosophy of Life” are devoted to a variety of ethical, political, and esthetic reflections, which it 1s unnecessary to enter into here. Scarce had Germany recovered from the enthusiasm which this work (the “‘ Philosophy of Life”) excited; when its illustrious author delivered, in the year 1828, the fol- lowing course of lectures on the ‘Philosophy of History,” which are now presented to the reader in an Inelish garb. Defective as may be the medium through which the Hnglish reader becomes acquainted with this work, he will be enabled to form on it a more impartial, as well as more enlightened, judgment than any the translator could pronounce; and he will, therefore, only venture to observe that it has been considered in every respect worthy of its author's high reputation. Towards the close of the year 1828, Schlegel repaired to Dresden; and in that city, where the torch of his early enthusiasm had been first kindled, was now to witness its final extinction. le delivered in this city, before a numerous and distinguished auditory, nine lectures on the ‘Philosophy of Language” (Philosophie der Sprache), wherein he developed and expanded those philosophical views already laid down in his ‘Philosophy of Life.” This work is even more metaphysical than the one last named—with untiring wing, the author here sustains his flight through the sublimest regions of philosophy. This production displays at times a gigantic vastness of ; ' E* 64> — JHE LITERARY LIFF OF conception which almost appals—we might almost say, that this mighty intelligence had in his ardent aspirations after immortality, burst his earthly fetters—or that - Divine Providence, judging a degenerate world unworthy of hearing such sublime accents, had called him to con- tinue his hymn in eternity. “)n Sunday, the 11th of January, 1829, he was, between ten and eleven o'clock at night, preparing a lecture, which: he was to deliver on the following Wednesday. He had in his former lectures spoken of time and eternity—he had called time a dis- traction of eternity—he had adverted to those ecstacies of great saints, which he called transitions to eternity. He was now in this lecture discoursing of the different degrees of knowledge attainable by man—of the perception—the notion—and the idea. He began a sentence with these re- markable words:—‘ Das ganz vollendete und vollkommene verstehen selbst aber.” —‘‘ But the consummate and the Page knowledge”—when the hand of sickness arrested 1 Pen eR RONMRB | is pen. ‘That consummate and perfect knowledge he himself was now destined to attain in another and a better world; for at one o'clock on the same night, he breathed out his pure and harmonious soul to heaven. His death, though sudden, was not unprovided. He had ever lived up to his faith—through his writings there runs an under-current of calm, unostentatious piety; and I know no writer more deeply impressed with a sense of the loving agency of pean eas A. gentleman, well acquainted with some of his most intimate friends, has assured me that, for some time prior to his death, he had prosecuted his devotional exercises with more than ordi- - nary fervour; and that on the morning of that Sunday on which his last illness seized him, he had been united to his Lord in the Holy Communion—a presage and an earnest, let us hope, of that intimate union he was destined to en- joy in the long and cloudless day of eternity ! The melancholy news of his death, when conveyed to his distinguished friend—Adam Miiller, then at Vienna, gave such a violent shock to his feelings, that it brought on a POE PH RANA ANE NMINY AN Sie SN ESM MEY MTR I DYNAN AY SEES RPA EN ETERS OTT REBT IOP OT PO RE TE TAP evoked from the dust the better phi FREDERICK VON SCHLEGEL. 64° stroke of apoplexy, which terminated his existence. A chain of the most exalted sympathies had united those souls in life—what marvel if he electric stroke, which prostrated the one should have laid low the other! Frederick Schlegel married early in hfe the daughter of the celebrated Jewish philosopher Mendelsohn. ‘This lady followed her husband in his change of religion. Mrs. Schlegel is one of the most intellectual women in Germany—she is advantageously known to the literary world by her German translation of Madame de Stael’s ‘“ Corinne ;” and report has ascribed to her elegant pen several of the poems in her husband’s collection.* | In conclusion, I will endeavour to recapitulate the obligations which literature and science owe to the great man, whose literary biography I have attempted to sketch. To have, in common with his illustrious brother, es- tablished a system of broad, comprehensive, synthetic criticism, by which the principles of ancient and modern art were unfolded to view—by which we were introduced into the intellectual laboratories of genius, made to assist at the birth of her mighty conceptions, and by whose plastic touch the great works of ancient aud modern poetry were in a manner created anew :—to have unlocked the fountains of the old Germanic minstrelsy, and refreshed the poetry of his age with a new stream of fictions :—to . have been among the first to do for philology what the Stagyrite had done for natural history ; by classifying languages not according to their outward form, but their internal organisation, not according to a specious, though often delusive, etymology, but according to grammatical structure : to have deciphered the mysterious wisdom of old days, and with admirable tact to have caught the. spirit of the primitive world, as disclosed in its sagas and its symbols, its poetry and its pay esc R RY : next to have osophy of ancient Greece, and presented her venerable form to the renewed * A complete edition of Frederick Schlegel’s works, in fiftcet volumes 8vo., is now publishing at Vienna. 64! ‘THE LITERARY LIFE OF SCHLEGEL love and respect of mankind, partly by an admiraple trans lation of portions of Plato, partly by luminous critiques, and partly again by the example of his own philosophy, in form as well as spirit so eminently Platonic: then, in the field of modern history, to have traced the rise and progress of the European states, the genius of their civil and political institutions, the causes and effects of their seh and social revolutions, with an extent of learning, a spirit of impartiality, and a depth and comprchensiveness of understanding, unsurpassed by preceding writers, and in his own age rivalled only by his ulustrious countryman —Goerres: lastly, to have put the crowning glory to_ a life so full of glorious achievement by his last philoso- phical works, where a strong and broad light 1s thrown upon the mysteries of psychology, where the most im- portant questions of ontology are treated with equal bold- ness and sublimity of thought, and magnificence of fancy, while even on physics many bright hints are thrown out, which a deeper science will know one day how to turn to account: such are the services which this illustrious man has rendered to the cause of literature and philosophy. Living in an age which is only an epoch of momentous transition from the adolescence to the virility of the human mind, he was evidently, together with some other chosen spirits of his time, the precursor of an era of Christian philosophy, when, to use the language of a young, but very distinguished French writer (the Abbé Gerbet), ‘‘ the sterile dust of futile abstractions will be swept away, and the antique faith will appear crowned with all the rays of science.” ‘* Already,” continues the writer just quoted, ‘* even infidel science, astonished at her own discoveries, which disconcert alike ideology and materialism, begins to suspect “ There are more things in neaven and earth Than are dreamt of in that philosophy.” Me te cm INE soins CMAN er en eg : , y TR AER ROT SPER aN: J ETAT aT a ERR RY - PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY. LECTURE I. INTRODUCTION. “ And the earth was without form, and void, and darkness was upon the face of the deep; but the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters.” GeEn., i. 2. By philosophy of history must not be understood a series of remarks or ideas upon history, formed according to any con- certed system, or train of arbitrary hypotheses attached to facts. Jlistory cannot be separated from facts, and depeads entirely on reality ; and thus the Philosophy of history, as it is the spirit or idea of history, must be deduced from real his- torical events, from the faithful record and lively narration of facts—it must be the pure emanation of the great whole—the one connected whele of history, and for the right understand- ing of this connexion a clear arrangement is an essential con- dition aud an important aid. For although this great editice of universal history, where the conclusion at least is still want- ing, 1s in this respect incomplete, and appears but a inighty frayment of which even particular parts are less known to us than others; yet is this edifice sufficiently advanced, and many of its great wings and. members are sufficiently unfolded to our view, to enable us, by a lucid arrangement of the dif- ferent periods of history, to gain a clear insight into the general plan of the whole. _ It is thus my intention to render as intelligible as I possibly ean, the general results and the connexion of all the past trans- actions in the history of the human race; to form a true judg- ment on the particular portions or sections of history, accord- 66 PHILOSOPHY OF ing to their intrinsic nature and real value in reference to the general progress of mankind, carefully distinguishing what was injurious, what advantageous, and what indifferent; and thereby, as far as 1s possible to the limited perceptions of man, to comprehend in some degree that mighty whole. This per- ception—this comprehension—this right discernment of the great events and general results of universal history, is what might be termed a science of history ; and I would have here preferred that term, were it not liable to much misconception, and might have been understood as referring more to special and learned inquiries, than the other name I have adopted to denote the nature of the present work. If we would seize and comprehend the general outline of history, we must keep our eye steadily upon it ; and must not suffer our attention to be confused by details, or drawn off by the objects immediately surrounding us. Judging from the feelings of the present, nothing so nearly concerns our interests as the matter of peace or war; and this is natural, as, in a prac- tical point of view they are both affairs of the highest mo- ment ; while the courageous and successful conduct of the one insures the highest degree of glory, and the solid establish- ment and lasting maintenance of the other, may be considered | as the greatest problem of political art and human wisdom. But it is otherwise in universal history, when this is conceived in a comprehensive and enlarged spirit. Then the remotest Past, the highest antiquity, is as much entitled to our atten- tion as the passing events of the day, or the nearest concerns of our own time. When a war, indeed, carried on more than two thousand years ago, in which the belligerent parties have long ceased to exist, when every thing has been since changed—when a long series of historical catastrophes has intervened between that period and our own ; when such a warfare, offering as it does but at best a remote analogy to the circumstances of nearer times, and consequently possessing no immediate interest, has been investigated by the mighty intellect of a Thucydides, portrayed by him in the highest style of eloquence, and un- folded to our view with the most consummate knowledge of mankind, of public life, and of the most intimate relations of (sovernment; such a warfare then retains a permanent interest, aud is a lasting source of instruction. We love to dive into HISTORY, 67 the minutest details of an event so widely removed from us— aud such a study is to be regarded and prized as highly use- ful, were it only as an exercise of historical reflection, and a school of political science. This remark will equally hold good, when the internal feuds of a less powerful state have been analysed and laid open by the acute perspicacity and delicate discrimination of a Machiavelli. And still more, per- haps, when a great system of pacification, like that which Au- gustus gave, or promised to give to the whole civilised world, and established for a certain period at least, has been fathomed by the searching eye of a Tacitus, and by his masterly hand delineated in its ulterior progress and remote effects; showing, as he does, how that surface, apparently so calm, concealed numberless sources of disquiet—an abyss of crime and destruc- tion—how that evil principle in the degenerate government of Rome became more and more apparent, and under a suc- cession of wicked rulers, broke out into paroxysms more and more fearful. ! Ag a school of political science and historical reflection, the study of these and similar classical historical works is of inesti- mable advantage. But independently of this, and considered merely in themselves, all those countless battles—those endless, and even, for the greater part, useless wars, of which the long succession fills up for so many thousand years the annals of all nations, are but little atoms compared with the great whole of human destiny. The same, with a slight distinction, will hold - good of so many celebrated treaties of peace in past ages, when these have lost all interest for real life and the present order of . things;—treaties, which though brought about by great labour, and upheld by consummate art, were yet internally defective, - and sooner or later, and often quickly enough, fell to pieces and were destroyed. From all these descriptions of ancient wars, and treaties «f peace, no longer applicable or of interest to the present world, or present order of things, historical philosophy can deduce but one, though by no means unimportant, result. It is this—that the internal discord, innate in man and in the human race, may easily and at every moment, break out into real and open strife —nay, that peace itself—that immutable object of high political. art, when regarded from this point of view, appears to be no- thing else than a war retarded or kept under by human dexte #2 : 68 PHILOSOPHY OF rity; for some secret disposition—some diseased ditt matter, is almost ever at hand to call it into existence.: In the same way as a scientitic physician regards the health of the body, or its right temperature, as a happy equipoise—a middle line not easy to be observed between two contending evils—we must ever expect in such an organic imperfection a tendency to, or the seeds of, disease in one shape or another. ) Political events form but one part, and not the whole, of human history. A knowledge of details, however great and various it may be, constitutes no science in the philosophic sense of the word, for it is in the right and comprehensive conception of the whole that science consists. As the greater par. of the nine hundred millions of men on the whole surface of the earth, according to the highest estimate of a hazardous calculation, are born, lie: and es without a history of them being possible, or without their reckoning a fraction in the general history—so that the extremely small number of those called historical men, forms but a rare excep- tion—so there are nations and countries, which in a general comparative survey of nations, serve but as a mark or evidence of some particular: stage of civilisation, without of themselves holding any place in the general history of our species, or con- ducing: to the social progress of mankind, or possessing any weight or importance in the scale of humanity. Therese is a point of view, indeed, from which the matter ap- pears under a different aspect, and is really different. To the all-secing eye of Providence, every human life, however brief its Antatior however apparently insignificant, presents a point of internal development and crisis, ‘consequently a species of history, cognisable and visible to that Eye only, and, therefore, not entirely without an object But this point of dete belong's to another order of things, and is no longer historical—it has reference to the immortal destinies of the human soul, and the connexion of the present life with another world invisible to us. But our historical science is limited to the department of man’s present existence; and in our historical inquiries we must not lose sight of this principle. But the internal development of mind, so far as it is histo- rical, belongs as much as the external events of politics to the department am: human history, and must by no means be ex- cluded from it. Among these rare exceptions of historical men i aa i al ad HEY AE ENEMA HOT HEE STNG ALDER eR REA erin 7 Toy aRe beled i leth ie hah hte an ape NAS hem age UNESP ea ey EER REE REMC: i : woe HISTORY. 69 must be named that ancient master of human acuteness, who was the teacher of Alexander the Great, and who perhaps holds not an humbler or less important place in this exalted sphere than the conqueror himself, although this philosopher, whose genius embraced nature, the world, and iife, was by ie own contemporaries less honoured and pelo ated than by a remote posterity. ere in our western world, and long after the king- doms founded by the Macedonian conqueror Watt disappeared, and were forgotten, Aristotle for many: centuries reigned the absolute lord of the Christian schools, and directed the march of human science and human speculation in the middle age. Whether he were always rightly understood and studied in the right way is another question, for here we are speaking of his overruling influence and historical importance. Nay, in later times, te has materially served the cause of the better natural philosophy { founded on experience, in which he himself accom- plished things so extraordinary for his age, and was originally, and for a long while, the guide and master. The first Pitdementa) rule of historical science and research, when by these is sought a knowledge of the general destinies of mankind, is to keep these, and every object connected with them, steadily | in view, without losing ourselves in the details of special inquiries sate particular facts, for the multitude and variety of these subjects is absolutely boundless; and on the ocean of historical science the main subject easily vanishes from the eye. In history, as in every branch of mental culture, the first elementary school-instruction is not merely an important, but an essential, condition to a higher and more scientific know- ledge. At ihe indeed, it is merely a nomenclature of cele- brated personages and events—a sketch of the great historical eras, divided according to chronological dates, or a geographical plan—which must be impressed on the memory, and which serves as a basis preparatory to that more vivid and compre- hensive knowledge to be obtained in riper years. Thus this fist knowledge stored up in the memory, and necessary for ne- thodising and arranging the mass of historical learning to be afterwards acquired, is more a preparation for the study of his- tory, than the real science of history itself. In the higher wrades of academic instruction, the lessons on history must vary with each one’s calling and pursuits—one course of historical reading is necessary for the theologian, another for the lawyer 70 PHILOSUPHY OF or civilian. To the physician, and in genera. to the naturalist, uatural history, and what in the histcry of man 1s most akin to that science, will ever be the most captivating. And the phi- ologist will find a boundless field for inquiry in special anti- yuarian researches, particularly now when, in addition to clas- sical learning and the more common Oriental tongues, the languages and historical antiquities of the remoter nations of Asia have attracted the attention of European scholars, and the riginal sources are becoming every day more accessible. Even the sphere of modern political history, from which for the practical business of government so mucl: is to be learned, will be found equally extensive—-when, besides the modern classical works, we look to the countless multitude of private memoirs and other historical and political writings ; especially at a time, and in a world where even periodical publications and news- papers have become a power and an art ora science, and society itself falls more and more under the sway of Journalism, If in this department of politics and statistics, we add also the number of unprinted documents, we shall find that the archives of many a state would alone furnish occupation for more than a man’s life. In all such special departments of historical science, the great whole of history is made subordinate to some secondary object ; and this cannot be otherwise. It may even be advantageous for the profounder knowledge and more skilful exposition of universal history that we should seriously investigate some par- ticular branch of history; and, in a science so various, select some special subject for more minute inquiry; but this can never be done without some decided predilection—some almost party bias towards the subject. Yet such special inquiries are only preparatory or auxiliary to the general science or philo- sophy of history—but not that science itself. Thus at the out- set of my literary career, [ devoted a considerable time to a very minute study of the Greeks*—and subsequently I applied myself to the Hindoo language and philosophy, at that time more difficult of access than at the present day.f In the strug- giles of life, and amid the public dangers of our times, I was alive to * Schlegel’s first great work was entitled “The Greeks and the Ro- mans,” published in the year 1797. t The result of our author’s researches on Hindoo literature and phi- tosophiy was evinced in his work entitled, “ The Language and Ws Jom of the Indians,” published in 1808. Dry ARES a coe SPIER RN RNR heey EReRERD aR E=SNRRE gee EREErRReRD rr oP carom: oF Tm HISTORY. 71 wu patriotic feeling for the history of my own country, and recent times ; and, perhaps, there are some among my present hearers who remember the historical lectures I delivered in this spirit eighteen years ago in this imperial city.* It is now my wish, and the object I propose to myself, to discard all antiquarian, Oriental, or European predilections for particular branches of history, and to unfold to view, and render completely clear and intelligible, the great edifice of universal history in all its parts, members, and degrees. The first fundamental rule here laid down, with respect to the mode of treating general history— namely, to keep the attention fixed on the main subject, and not to let it be distracted or dissipated by a number of minute details —concerned move the method of historical science. The second rule regards the subject and purport of history, and stands in more immediate connexion with the first portion of this work—that relating to primitive history. This second fundamental rule of historical science may be thus simply ex- pressed :—we should not wish to explain every thing. Histo- rical tradition must never be abandoned in the philosophy of history— otherwise we lose all firm ground and footing. But historical tradition, ever so accurately conceived and carefully sifted, doth not always, especially in the early and primitive ages, bring with it a full and demonstrative certainty. In such eases, we have nothing to do but to record, as it is given, the best and safest testimony which tradition, so far as we have it, can afford; supposing even that some things in that testimony appear strange, obscure, and even enigmatical; and perhaps a comparison with some other part of historical science—or, if I may so speak, stream of tradition, will unexpectedly lead to the solution of the difficulty. Extremely hazardous is the desire to explain every thing, and to supply whatever appears a gap in history—for in this propensity lies the first cause and germ of all those violent and arbitrary hypotheses which perplex and pervert the science of history far more than the open avowal of our ignorance, or the uncertainty of our knowledge : hypotheses which give an oblique direction, or an exaggerated and false’ extension to a view of the subject originally not incorrect. . And even if there are poits which appear not very clear to us, or which we leave unexplained—this will not prevent us from com- * Schlegel alludes to “The Lectures on Modern History,” which he delivered at Vienna in the year 1810, oes PHILOSOPHY OF prehending, so far at least as the limited conception of man is able, the great outline of human history, though here and there @, gap should remain. This matter will be best explained by an example that will bring us at once to the subject we propose to treat. Let us imagine some bold navigators (and what we here suppose by way of example has more than once actually occurred) touch- ing at some island inhabited by wild savages in the midst. of the great ocean between America and astern Asia. This island lies, we suppose, at a very great distance from either continent, and the same will hold good of it, thongh there be a group of islands. ‘These savages have but miserable fishing- boats made of hollow trunks of trees, by which it is not easy to conceive how they could have been transported so far. ‘The question now naturally occurs, how has this race of men come hither ?— A pagan natural philosophy, which even now dares often enough to raise its voice, would be very ready with its answer : “ There,” it would say, “you see plainly how every thing has sprung from the pap of the earth—the primitive slime—there isno need of the far-fetched idea of an imaginary Creator— these self-existing men of the earth—these well-known autoc- thones of the ancients—these true sons of nature—have risen up or crawled out of the fruitful slime of the earth.” A deeper physiological science would, independently of every other consideration, and looking merely to the natural organi- sation of man, scout this wild chaotic hypothesis respecting: his origin from slime. Tor this organic frame ofthe human body, which has become a body of death, is still endowed with many and wonderful powers, and still encloses the hidden heht of its celestial origin.— Without, however, entering further into this inquiry, which falls not within the limits here prescribed, let us rather tacitly beheve that although as the ancient history saith, man was formed out of the slime of the earth ; yet it was by the same Hand which invisibly conducts each indivi- dual through life, and has more than once rescued all mankind from the brink of the abyss, that his marvellous body was framed, into which the Maker himself breathed the immortal spirit of life. This divine in-dwelling spark in man, the heathens themselves, notwithstanding the opinion about the autocthones, recognised in the beautiful tradition or fiction of HISTORY. eg Prometheus; and many of their first spirits, philosophers, orators, and poets, and grave and moral teachers, have in one form or another, and Saahe a variety of fieurative expressions, borne frequent, and loud, and repeated testimony to the truth of a higher spirit, a divine flame, animating the breast of man. This universal faith in the heavenly Promethean lght—or as we should rather say, this ‘spark of our Dok disse the only thing we must here pre-suppose, and from which all our his- toric: ‘al deductions must be taken. With the opposite doctrine —with the absolute unbelief in all which constitutes man really man—no history, and no science of history, is possible ; and this is the only remark we shall here oppose to an infidelity that denies the existence of every thing high and godly. For the question respecting the creation of man, or as atheism terms it, the first springing up of the human race, is beyond the limits of history, and must be lett to the decision of revela- tion and faith; for the question can be reached by no history, ‘no science of liistory—no historical research, Listory begins, as this will be presently shown, with man’s second step ; which immediately follows his concealed origin antecedent to all history. ‘To recur now to the example already given of an island situated in the middle of the ocean, with its savage inhabitants and their miserable fishing-boats—the real solution, as experi- ence has really proved, of this apparent difficulty is, on a nearer acquaintance with the subject, easily spunseh If, for example, the language and traditions of this rude, s rage, or at least degraded, tribe, are minutely studied and inves A A vedrey then so - striking a resemblance and aflinity will be found uiilk the lan- guages and traditions of the races in either of the remotel situated continents, that the most sceptical mind will hardly entertain a doubt respecting the common origin of both; for this community in language and traditions is too strong, too strikingly evident, to be ascribed with any degree of proba- bility to the sport of accident. This truth now onee firmly established (for a community of language, tradition, and race among’ all the nations of the earth is a truth almost unani- mousl y received and acknowledged by those historical inquirers most versed in nature, and most learned in philology of the present age), it becomes a mere matter of indifference, or one at least of minor importance, how and in what way this —_ ec oeaten cece me eee 74 PHILOSOI NY OF originally savage, or at least barbansed tribe first arrived hither; and it were a mere waste of labour to select, among the hundred conceivable or inconceivable accidents and possi- bilities which may have occasioned or Jed to this arrival, any particular one as the best explanation, and to found thereon some ingenious hypothesis, how the land on both sides ma have been differently situated, before a closer connexion with this little island was tte off by the destructive floods; or in which of the last great at seeO ONG of the earth that disjunc- tion may have taken place. We may leave such conjectures © to themselves, and, satisfied with the main result, proceed further in the historical investigation and survey of the earth. For, in truth, the earth’s surface more narrowly and carefully examined, furnishes, in reference to man and _ his primitive history, far other and weightier problems than those involved in the example first selected. It is generally known that in a great many places situated in various parts of the earth, in the interior of mountains and even on pli:ins, sometimes near the surface, and sometimes at a greater or less depth in the interior of mountainous chains rising to a very great elevation above the level of the sea, there are found whole strata of scattered bones belonging to animal species either actually existing, or which formerly existed and are now totally extinct—the chaotic remains of an all-destroying inundation that immediately remind us of the general tradition respecting the great Flood. In other places again, extensive layers of coral, sea-shells, marine plants, and other products of the sea, imbedded in the firm soil, prove these tracts of land to have been an ancient bottom of the sea. According to all appearance, these are not only monu- ments of one great natural revolution, but these elemental gigantic sepulchres of the primitive world offer to the mind many and various problems which more nearly, indeed, regard the earth, but as that planet is the habitation of man, have in consequence an indirect, but proximate, reference to mankind and their earliest history. A single example will best serve to point out among so many things, which are no longer perhaps susceptible of explanation, that which is of most moment to the historian ; as well as the lmits within which he should keep. Not long back, about nine years ago, a cave was discovered HISTORY. "5 in the county of Yorkshire, in England, filled for the most part with the bones and skeletons of hyzuas, of the same species now found in the southernmost point of Africa—the Cape of Good Hope. ‘These bones were intermixed with those of tigers, bears, wolves, as also of elephants, rhinosceri, and other ani- mals, among which were found the remains of the old large deer, that is not now to be met with in England. The pro- found naturalist, Schubert, whom, in subjects of this’ kind, I willingly take for my guide, observes in his natural histor with respect to this newly-discovered cavern (which evidently belongs to another, long extinct, and anterior world of nature), that the opinion which would make a whole stratum of bones to have been swept thither by floods in so sound a state, and from so remote a distance, is perfectly inadmissible. He shows it to be much more probable that this cave was the den of a troop of hywnas, which had dragged thither the bones of the other animals ; for this fell and rapacious animal feeds by pre- ference on bones, which it knows how to break, as it is in the habit of raking up dead bodies. What an immense interval separates that now highly civilised state—those flourishing provinees—that country abounding, and almost overteeming: with all the fruits of human mdustry, with all the productions of mechanic skill ;—that cultivated garden, that Island-Queen, the mistress of every sea ;-—what an immense interval sepa- rates her from those savage times, when troops of hyenas ~ prowled about the land, together with the other gigantic ani- mals of the southern zone and tropic clime ! Thus is it natural to suppose that in one of the last great revolutions of nature the climate of the earth has undergone a total change ; and that originally the now icy north enjoyed a glowing warmth, a rich fertility, and all the fulness of luxu- riant life. A number of still more decisive facts declare for this supposition, or, to speak more properly, this certainty ; since we discover in the upper parts of Northern Asia, and in ge- —neral throughout the Polar regions, entire forests of palm in the subterraneous strata, as also well preserved remains of whole herds of elephants, and of many other kindred species of ani« mals now totally extinct. Long before most of these facts were discovered, Leibuitz had conjectured that originally the earth in general, even in the north, enjoyed a much warmer temperature.than in the present period of all-ruling and proe (hi 2 oor _ PHILOSOPHY OF gressive frost; and Buffon and others have established on this idea the hypothesis of a vast central fire in the interior of the earth. the interior parts of the earth and its internal depths are a region totally impervious to the eye of mortal man, and ean least of all be approached by those ordinary paths of hypo- thesis adopted by naturalists and geologists. ‘The region designed for the existence of man, and of every other creature endowed with organic life, as well as the sphere open to the perception of man’s senses, is confined to a limited space between the upper and lower parts of the earth, exceedingly small in proportion to the diameter, or even semi-diameter, of the earth, and forming only the exterior surface, or outer skins, of the great body of the earth. Even at a very slight depth below the earth’s surface, all change of seasons ceases and an even temperature eternally prevails, approximating rather to cold than living heat. Yet on this side the earth is more easy of access than in the upper regions, where not only the higher Alps and glaciers are the last attainable limit to human daring, but even the pure ether of the supernal atmosphere made an aeronaut, celebrated for his disaster, learn at his own cost, how very near is that boundary where, in deadening cold, all life and all observation cease. It is in the physical, as in the moral world—where light and heat should exist, there two things are necessary—a power to give light and communicate heat, and a substance capable of receiving and absorbing the one and the other. Where eitlier condition is wanting, there reigns eternal darkness, and deadly and eternal cold ; and so the fact, that the whole action of heat, and of all the life it produces, is confined entirely to this lower atmosphere, should awake attention rather than create surprise. In all matters, even of this sort, we cannot be too mindful of the necessity of confining our researches to that small, narrowly circumscribed sphere inhabited by man, and of never exceeding those limits. Thus to explain the fact that the habitable earth has not, as originally, so warm a temperature as the north, we need not have recourse to any supposition of a central tire suddenly ex- tinguished, like an oven that becomes cold, or to any other violent hypothesis of the same kind ; for this fact may be suffi- ciently accounted for by the last great revolution of nature—the general deluge, which, as may be assumed with great proba- bility, produced a change in the heretofore much purer, balmier Die inane cee i PERTTI I ET TP AIRE TERIA IRR SO ASRS SE OmARNRS F/NRRMRNT RS ARQ HRer a SHRI NNN“, MN Ta bie Aen See EP TTT AC TRAM eeu heh POE EAR NR PURER ARO RENE” f HISTORY. rir ind more genial atmosphere. That towards the equator, the position of the earth’s axis has undergone a change, and that thereby this great revolution in the earth’s Rlignaie was oceca- sioned, is indeed a bare possibility ; but until further proof, this must be regarded as a purely. gratuitous hypothesis. But without subscribing to these fanciful suppositions, and mathe- matical theories, and without wishing to penetrate, w ith some geologists, into the hidden depths of the earth in quest of an imavined central fire, we shall find on the inhabited surface of the globe, or very near it, many proofs and indications of the once superior energy of the principle of fire—a_ principle whereof voleanoes, whether subsisting or extinct, and the kin- dred phenomena of earthquakes, may be considered the last feeble surviving effects ; for not basalt only, but porphyry, granite, and im deenernl all the primary rocks, and those which, vecording to the classification of geologists, are more immedi- ately ahaa to them, can be proved to be of a volcanic nature with as much certainty, as we can trace, in the horizontal se- condary formations, the destructive influence and opération of the element of water. Hence this layer of subterrancous, thoneh now in general slumbering: fire, with all its voleanic arteries and veins of earthquakes, . may once have been as widely diffused over the surface of the globe, as the element of water, now occupying so large a portion of that surface. As voleanie rocks exist in the ocean, or rather at its bottom, and as their irruptions burst through the body of waters up to the surface of: the sea; as their voleanic agency gives birth to earthquakes, and not unfrequently raises, and heaves up new islands from the depths of the ocean; naturalists have concluded, with reason from these various facts, that the voleanic basis of AW earth's surtace, though tolerably near, must: still be somewhat deeper than the bottom of the sea. And without stopping to examine the hypothesis relative to the immea- surable depth of the ocean, the opinion which fixes the earth’s basis at about 30.000 feet, or one geographical mile and a half below the level of the sea, does not exceed the modest limits of a well-considered probability. In the present period of the globe. water is the predominant element on the earth’s surface. But if that voleanic power which hes deeper in the bosom of the earth aud the kindred principle of fire, had at an early epoch of nature, e Set eT TTY rT ee ere a TET RE RT eT reopen merece eater ta late 78. PHILOSOPHY OF the same influence and operation on the earth, as water after- wards had, we can well imagine such an influence to have materially affected the lower atmosphere, and to have rendered the climate of the earth, even at the north, totally different from what it is at present. The strata of bones formed by the old flood, and the buried remains of a former race of animals, call forth a remark, which is not without importance in respect to the primitive history of man;—it is, that among the many bones of other large and small land animals, which form of themselves a rich and varied collection of the subterraneous products of nature, the fossil remains of man are scarcely anywhere to be found. It has sometimes happened that what were at first considered the bones of human giants, have been afterwards proved to have been those of animals. It is so very rare an instance to meet in fossil remains with a real human bone, skull, jaw-bone, or entire human skeleton (as in one particular instance was found enclosed in a lime-stone, mixed with some few utensils and in- struments of the primitive world, such as a stone-knife, a 2opper axe, an iron club, and a dagger of a very ancient form, sogether with some human bones) ; that the very rareness of she exception serves only to confirm the general rule. Were we from this fact immediately to draw the conclusion that juring all those revolutions of nature, mankind had not yet existence, such an hypothesis would be rash, groundless, com- pletely at variance with history—one to which many even phy- sical objections, tco long to detail here, might be opposed. That so very few, and indeed scarcely any human bones are to be found among the fossil remains of the primitive world, may possibly be owing to the circumstance that by the very artificial, hot, and highly-seasoned food of men, their bones, from their chemical nature and qualities, are more liable to destruction than those of other animals. I may here repeat what I have already had occasion to remark, and what is here of especial importance, as applying particularly to the history and circumstances of the primitive world ;—namely, that all things are not susceptible of an entire, satisfactory, and abso- lutely certain explanation ; and that yet we may form a tole- rably correct conception of general facts ; though many of the particulars may remain for a time unexplained, or at least not Pili ek ee ae ne ee tae A Rae NEA TREY IO IA AMI 8 “ & HISTORx. 79 eapable of a full explanation, So, on the other hand, it would be premature, and little conformable to the grave cireumspection of the historian, to reduce all those natural catastrophes (the vouching monuments and mysterious inscriptions of which are now daily disclosed to the eye of Science as she explores the deep sepulchres of the earth)—to reduce, I say, all those natural catastrophes exclusively to the one nearest to the his- toricai times, and which, indeed, is attested by the clear, unanimous tradition of all, or at least of most ancient nations; for several mighty and violent revolutions of nature, of various kinds, though of a less general extent, may possibly have hap- pened, and very probably did really happen simultaneously with, or subsequently, or even previously, to the last general flood. . The irruption of the Black Sea into the Thracian Bosphorus is regarded by very competent judges in such matters, as an event perfectly historical, or at least, from its proximity to the historical times, as not comparatively of so primitive a date. A celebrated northern naturalist has shown it to be extremely probable that the Caspian Sea, and the Lake Aral, were: origi- nally united with the Kuxine. and that on the other hand, the North Sea extended very far over land, and even near to those regions, leaving some marine plants very diferent from those of the Southern Seas. The sea originally must have stretched much further over the earth and even over many places where now is dry land, as may easily be inferred from the great and extensive salt-steppes in Asia, Africa, and some parts of Eastern Europe, which furnish many and irrefragable proofs that the land was once occupied by the sea. All these great physical changes are not necessarily and exclusively to be ascribed to the last general deluge. The presumed irruption of the Mediterranean into the ocean, as well as many other mere partial revolutions in the earth and sea, may have occurred much later, and quite apart from this great event. ‘The original magnificence of the climate of the north, as displayed in the luxuriant richness of all organic productions, is commemorated in many traditions of the primi- tive nations, especially those of Southern Asia; and in these Sagas, the north is ever made the subject of uncommon eulogy. That the north enjoys a certain natural pre-eminence BO PHILOSOPHY OF appeare to be matter of certainty; and to be even susceptible of scientific demonstration, ‘The northern and southern ex- tremities of our planet appear at least to be very unlike, if we judge the terraqueous globe according to the present state of geographical knowledge. While the old and new continents, the north of Asia and of America, extend in long and wide tracts of land high up towards the North Pole, so that the boundaries of Jand cannot be everywhere Fake detined ; water is the predominant element around the colder South Pole, to which even the southernmost point of America, and the remotest island of Polynesia—the extreme verge of land —make no near approach; and beyond these poimts, so fat as the boldest navigators have been able to penetrate, they have discovered only sea and ice, and nowhere a real Polar region of any great extent. Thus the South Pole is the cold and watery side, or as we should say in dynamics, the negative and weaker end of the earth’s body, while the North Pole on the other hand appears to be the positive and stronger extre- mity ; for, though the centre of the earth’s magnetic attraction and magnetic life, accords not mathematically with the northern point, yet it lies at no very great distance from it. In other phenomena of nature, too, the real seat and principle of life will be found, not at the mathematical point, but a little removed from it. Another circumstance worthy of consideration is, that the northern firmament possesses by far the largest and most brilliant constellations, and that though the southern firma- ment is embellished by its own, they are neither in the same number, nor of the same beauty. ‘lo the impressions made by such objects, the men of the primitive ages were certainly far more alive than those of the present day; and an obscure feeling for nature, grounded on the real natural superiority of the north, as well as the poctical Sagas which were in part the natural offspring of such feelings, may have contributed to direct the stream of the first migrations of nations towards the north, and have occasioned the very early colonisation and settlement of its regions: for, in primitive antiquity, a certain presentient instinct, it is right to suppose, was much oftener the primary cause of those migrations than such a spirit of commercial speculation as afterwards animated the auercmet i Fie TRA. SEAR ETT RO RE RR EPS TIN TE PE mR SERPS | CE ERS TROT Aeeste NOTA: Seals: siete on Tete ie IIISTORY. 8] Phoenicians and their various colonies. We may here also observe, that even in its present state, the remoter north has its own peculiar charms and advantages, and that by human industry it may attain to a much higher degree of productive- ness. than we should be at first-sight tempted tu suppose. In this sense ought to be taken the a tiniee of antiquity, as te the happy AGE span Tate people of the Hyperboreans; and it is easy to understand it in this sense without infering thence too many consequences. If, on the other hand, some fable and learned naturalists, led away by this fact, appear almost inclined to regard the region of the North Pole, once in the enjoyment of a warm otha temperature, as one of the earliest, nay, the very earliest, abode ot the human race; I cannot follow them in their hypothesis, opposed as it is to the positive and unanimous tradition of many and most ancient nations, pointing with one concurrent voice to Central Asia as man’s primitive dwelling-place. It appears, indeed, that the tradition of anti- quity as to the Island of Atlantis ought to be considered historical ; but instead of regarding aie country as an islend of the Blessed situated in the aretic circle, I think it much more natural to refer the whole tradition to an obscure nautical knowledge of America, or of those adjacent islands at which. Crinmnne first touched, and to which the Pheenician pilots (who beyond all doubt cireumnavigated Africa), may not improbably have been driven in the course of their voyage. Ihave laid it down as an invariable maxim constantly to follow historical tradition and to hold fast by that clue, even when many thing's, in the testimony and declarations of tradition, appear strange and almost inexplicable, or at least enigmatical ; for so soon as in the investigations of ancient history we let slip that thread of Ariadne, we can find no outlet from the labyrinth of fanciful theories, and the chaos of clashing opinions. For this reason I cannot concur in the very violent hypothesis which a celebrated geologist towards the close of the last century, M. De Luc, ‘has hazarded respecting the deluge, and which the excellent Stolberg has adopted in his great historical work ;* although the author of this theory, so far from intending to oppose it to the Mosaic account of the * The History of Religion of Count Frederick Stolberg;—u noble: monument raised by genius and learning to the honour of Religion— Trans. ¢ G 2 PHILOSOPHY OF deluye, or to set aside the narrative of the inspired historian, conceived his hypothesis was calculated to furnish the strongest confirmation and clearest iJ!ustration of the sacred text. But I cannot reconcile his theory either with Holy Writ, or with the general testimony of historical tradition. The supposition . is this, that the deluge was not a general inundation of the whole earth, according to the ordinary belief, but a mere change of the solid and fluid parts of the earth's surface, a dyna- mical transmutation of land and sea, so that what was formerly land became sea, and vice versi. This is much more than can be found in the old account of the Noachian flood, or than a sound critical interpretation would infer ; and the suppositiou that the names of rivers and countries occurring in the Bible, refer to those objects as they existed in the original dry land ; and are again to be transferred to similar objects in the new land that sprung up with, or after, or out of the deluge ; this supposition, I say, bears too evidently the stamp of arbitrary conjecture, to gain admission and credit with those who have taken historical tradition for their guide. If by the geological facts which offer, or which we think offer, satisfactory proof, not only of the general Noachian flood, but of more than one deluge and of still more violent catastrophes of nature ; if by these geological facts before our eyes, such a total revolution and dynamic transmutation of land and sea were really proved (and the character of these proofs I must abandon to the investigation and judgment of others); this great revolution examined in an historical point of view, and in reference to the Mosaic nistory, must then be rather referred to that elder period, whereof it is said: “The earth was without form and void, and darkness was upon the face of the deep; but the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters.”’ These wordsewhich announce the presage of a new morn of creation, not only represent a darker and wilder state of the globe, but very clearly show the element of water to be still in predominant force. Even the division of the elements of the waters above the firmament, and of the waters below it, on the second day of creation—the permanent limitation of the sea for the formation and visible appearance of dry land, neces- sarily imply a mighty 1evuution in the earth, and afford additional proof that the Mosaic history speaks not only of a = aoe penetra ie a Si Nba HISTORY. 83 Pe one, but of several catastrophes of nature; a circumstance that : has not been near enough attended to in ‘the geological inter- _ pretation and illustration of the Bible. But to the bold and f ill-founded hy pothesis above-mentioned, many geological facts t; may be opposed, for in the midst of vast tracts and strata of an i ancient bottom of the sea, many spots are found covered with the accumulated remains of land animals, with trunks of trees and various other products of vegetation, pertaining not to the I sea, but to dry land. With the clearest and most indubitable precision, the Mosaic history fixes the primitive dwelling-place of man in that ceutral region of Western Asia situate near two great rivers, and amid onheeuidt ind seas, the Persian and Arabian gulfs on the one hand, and the Caspian and Mediterranean seas on the other, and rahe is likewise designated for the same purpose by the concurrent traditions of most other primitive nations. ‘he ancient tra- a dition of the Huropean nations as to their own origin and early history, conducts the inquirer constantly to the Cau- casian regions, to Asia Minor, to Phoenicia, and to Egypt ; countries all of them contiguous to, in the vicinity and even on the coast of, that central region. Among the primitive Asiatic nations, the Chinese place the cradle of their origin and civilisa- tion in the north-western province of Shensee; and the Indians fix their’s towards the north of the Himalaya Mountains. Thus this last tradition points to Bactriana, which, as it borders on Persia, approximates consequently to that central region; whereof the holy and primitive country of the Persian Sagas, Atropatena or land of fire, now known by the name of Adher- bijan, forms a part. With aclearness and precision which adnut of no doubt, the Mosaic history designates the two great rivers of that central region, the Tigris and Euphrates, by the same Hy names which they have ever Matas irds borne; and even the i name of Eden, down to a later period, was affixed to a country near Damascus, and to another in Assyria. The third river of Paradise has been sought for by some in amore northerly di- rection—in the region 2 oe Moun Caucasus; and though aot | with equal certainty as in the other two instances, they have a thought to find it in the Phasis. The fourth river towards the a south, the old interpreters generally took to be the Nile; but the description of its course is so widely different from the pre- G2 ~~ Th erp Une aaneneacmnarorcnis atest as 2 fee mbna pe creas aicia eh peecaiamina esi CORINA: TAPE NCE TROT Al PR PP IO ene ot - PRAT ON LORELEI DTT TE TI ONC T ETS LET GON TLE TT MT 8 ; 84 _-- PHILOSOPHY OF sent situation of that river, and the present geography of the whole of those regions, that here at least a very great change must have occurred, in order to occasion this discrepancy be- tween the old description of this river’s course, aud the present geography of the country. In another circumstance also, which has been mostly too little attended to, this disparity between the Mosaic descrip- tion and the present conformation of: those regions is particu- larly striking. The geography of the rivers of Paradise, at least of two or three, may be easily traced, though the fourth remains a matter of uncertainty ; but the one source of Paradise in which those four rivers had their rise, in order thence to spread and diffuse fertility over the whole earth—this one source which is precisely the object of most importance, can nowhere be found on the earth ; whether it be dried or filled up, or how- soever it has been removed. In attending to some indications in Scripture, and without transgressing the due limits of inter- pretation, may we not be permitted to conjecture that the first chistisement inflicted on man by expulsion from his first glo- rious habitation and primeval home, may have been accom- panied by a change in Paradise brought about by some natural convulsion? ‘To judge by analogy, and from circumstances, which even a passage in Holy Writ alludes to, this convulsion must have been rather a volcanic eruption, by which even at the present day the sources of rivers are dried up, and their course completely changed, than a mere inundation that we are ever wont to regard as the sole possible cause of physical revo- lutions. Many vestiges of such changes may perhaps be proved from even geological observation;—thus to cite only one ex- ample, the Dead Sea in Palestine itself may be ineluded in the number of those lakes that bear very evident traces of a volcanic origin. The supposition, however, which we have ventured to make, must not be looked upon in the light of a formal hypo- thesis, but rather as a question dictated by a love of inquiry, and by a desire for the further elucidation of a subject not yet suf- ficiently understood. Thus have I now taken a general survey of the early condi- tion of the globe, considered as the habitation of man, and as far as was necessary for that object; and in this rapid sketch I have endeavoured. as far as was possible for a layman, to place ER ean mee SRST MIA AB ee spate ge ECT TT semaine Ra OTIC REI TE c hig o > ee . Rt cre ena. 2p oy ene eat eave] pve Cece etn ethene nw One ite Svea La essa ls. seins AileSilaibles? nlntd Aadbisn eeht guishe vega HISTORY. Su m the clearest light the most remarkable and best attested facts and discoveries of geology, with a constant attention to the testimony of primitive and historical tradition. No longer embarrassed by these physic “ul discussions, we may now proceed to meet the main question: “ What relation hath man to this his habitation— earth ; what place doth he oceupy therein ; and what rank doth he hold among the other creatures and co- habitants of this globe ; what is Re proper destiny upon, and in relation to, the Ste and what is it which really constitutes him man ?”- The absolute, and, for that reason, pagan system of natural philosophy spoken of above, has indeed, in these latter times, had the courage, Jaudable perhaps in the perverse course aan it had fakenat to rank man with the ape, as a peculiar species of the general kind. When in its anatomical investigations, it has numbered the various characteristics of this human ape, according to the number of its vertebrie, its toes, &e., it con- cedes to man, as his distinguishing quality, not what we are wont to call reason, perlectibility, or the faculty of speech, but “a capacity for constitutions?’ Thus man would be a liberal ape | And so far frem disagreeing with the author of this -. opinion, we think man may undoubtedly become so to a certain extent, although t’ic idea that he was originally nothing more than a nobler or better disciplined ape is alike oppused to the voice of history, aud the testimony of naturai science. If in the examination of man’s nature we will confine our view ex- clusively to the lower world of ammals, | should say that the possible contagion and communication of various diseases, and organic properties and powers of animals, would prove in man rather a greater sympathy and affinity of organic life and animal blood with the cow, the sheep, the camel, the horse, and the elephant, than with the ape. Even in the venomous serpent and the mad dog, this deadly affinity of blood and this fearful contact of aeeniral life exist in a different and nearer degree, than have yet been discovered in the ape. The docility, too, of _the elephant and other generous animals, bears much stronger marks of : analogy with reason than the cunning of the ape, in which the native sense of a sound, unprejudiced mind will always recognise an unsuccessful and abortive imitation of man. The resemblance of physiognomy and east of c»untenance in 86 PHILOSOPHY OF the sion, the bull, ana the eagle, to the human face—a resem- blance so celebrated in sculpture and the imitative arts, and which was interwoven into the whole mythology and symbolisr of the ancients —this resemblance is founded on far deeper and more spiritual ideas than any mere comparison of dead bones in an animal skeleton can suggest. The extremes of error, when it has reached the height of extravagance, often accelerate the return to truth; and thus to the assertion that man is nothing more than a liberalised ape, we may boldly answer that man, on the contrary, was originally, and by the very constitution of his being, designed to be the lord of creation, and, though in a subordinate degree, the legitimate ruler of the earth and of the world around him —the vicegerent of God in nature. And if he no longer enjoys this high prerogative to its full extent, as he might and ought to have done, he has only himself to blame ; if he exer- cises his empire over creatures rather by indirect means and mechanical agency than by the immediate power and native energy of his own intellectual pre-eminence, he still is the lord of creation, and has retained much of the power and dignity he once received, did he but always make a right use of that ower. The distinguishing characteristic of man, and the peculiar eminence of his nature and his destiny, as these are universally felt and acknowledged by mankind, are usually defined to con- sist, either in reason, or in the faculty of speech. But this definition is detective in this respect, that, on one hand, reason is a mere abstract faculty, which to be judyed, requires a psychological investigation or analysis ; and that, on the other hand, the faculty of speech is a mere potentiality, or a germ which must be unfolded before it can become a real entity. We should therefore give a much more cor:ect and compre- hensive definition, if, instead of this, we said: The peculiar pre-eminence of man consists in this—that to him alone among all other of earth's creatures, the word has been im- parted and communicated. The word actually delivered and really communicated is not a mere dead faculty, but an histori- cal reality and occurrence ; and for that very reason, the defini- tion we have given stands much more fitly at the head of a story, than the other more abstract one. ; t i ' ‘ f ST HISTORY, 87 In the idea uf the word, considered as the basis of man’s dignity and peculiar destination, the internal light of conscious- ness and of our own understanding, is undoubtedly first included —this word is not a mere faculty of speech, but the fertile root whence the stately trunk of all language has sprung. But the word is not confined to this only—it next includes a living, working power—it is not merely an object and organ of know- ledge—an instrument of teaching and learning ;—but the medium of affectionate union and conciliatery accommodation, judicial arbitrement and eflicacious command, or even creative productiveness, as our own experience and life itself manifest each of those significations of the word; and thus it embraces the whole plenitude of the excellencies and qualities which cha- racterise man. Nature, too, has her mute language and her symbolical — writing ; but she requires a discerning intellect to gain the key to her secrets, to unravel her profound enigmas; and, piercing through her mysteries, interpret the hidden sense of her word, and thus reveal the fulness of her glory. But he, to whom alone among all earth’s creatures, the word has been imparted, has been for that reason constituted the lord and ruler of the earth. As soon, however, as he abandons that divine principle implanted in his breast; as soon as he loses that word of life which had been communicated and confided to him; he sinks down to a level with nature, and from her lord, becomes her vassal ; anc here commences the history of man. ab OF LECTURE L Sie eue Aso xetecomaaihe Aaaieiaine une aarameened ie alee aenblneaeeamaitadaldl 8&8 PHILOSOPHY OP LECTURE U1. ON THE DISPUTE IN PRIMITIVE HISTORY, AND ON THR | DIVISION OF THE HUMAN RAGE. “In the beginning man had the word, and that word was from God.” Tuus the divine, Promethean spark in the human breast, when more accurately described and expressed in less figurative lan- guage, springs from the word originally communicated or intrusted to man, as that wherein consist his peculiar nature, his intellectual dignity, and his high destination.—The preg- nant expression borrowed above from the New Testament, on the mystery and internal nature of God, may, with some varias tion, and bating, as is evident, the immense distance between the creature and the Creator, be applied to man and his pri- mitive condition ; and may serve as a superscription or intro- duction to. primitive history in the following terms: “In the beginning man had the word, and that word was from God— and out of the living power communicated to man in and by that word, came the light of his existence.”—This is at least the divine foundation of all history—it falls not properly within the domain of history, but is anterior to it. To this position the stute of nature among savages forms no valid objection ; for that this was the really original condition of mankind is by no means proved, and is arbitrarily assumed ; nay, on the con- trary, the savage state must be looked upon as a state of de- generacy and degradation—consequeutly not as the first, but as the second, phenomenon in humar history—as something which, as it has resulted from this second step in man’s pro- gress, must be regarded as of a Jater origin. In history, as in all science and in life itself, the principal point on which every thing turns, and the all-deciding problem, is, Whether all things should be deduced from God, and God himself should be considered the first, nature the second exise tence—the latter holding undoubtedly a very important place, a a a el eager | HISTORY, — 89 or, whether, in the inverse order, the precedency should be given to nature, and, as invariably happens in such cases, all things should be deduced from nature only, whereby the Deity, though not by express unequivocal words, yet in fact is indirectly set aside, or remains at least unknown. ‘This ques- tion cannot be settled, nor brought to a conclusion, by mere dialectic strife, which rarely leads to its object. It is the will which here mostly decides; and, according to the nature and leaning of his character, leads the individual to choose between the two opposite paths, the one he would follow in speculation and in science, in faith and in life. Thus much at least we may say, in reference to the science of history, that they who in that department will consider nature only, and view man but with the eye of a naturalist (specious and plausible as their reasons may at first sight appear), will never rightly comprehend the world and reality of history, and never obtain an adequate conception, nor exhibit an uitelligible representation of its phenomena. On the other hand, if we proceed not solely and exclusively from nature, but first from God and that beginning of nature appointed by God, s9 this is by no means a degradation or misapprehension of nature; nor does it imply any hostility towards nature—an hostility which could arise enly from a very defective, erroneous, or narrow-minded conception of historical philosophy. On the contrary, experience has proved that by this course of speculation we are led more thoroughly to comprehend the glory of God in nature, and the magnificence of nature herself—a course of spe- culation quite consistent with the full recognition of nature’s rights, and the share due to her in the history and progress of man. | ; Regarded in an historical point of view, man was created free—there lay two paths before him—he had to choose between the one, conducting to the realms above, and the other, leading to the regions below;—and thus at least he was endowed with the faculty of two different wills. Had he remained steadfast in his first will—that pure emanation of the Deity-—had he remained true to the word which God had com- municated to him —he would have had but one will. He would, however, have still been free; but his freedom would have resembled that of the heavenly spirits, whom we must not imagine to be devoid of freedom because they are ne longer ia YU PHILOSOPHY OF a state of tris], and can never be separated from God. We should, besides, greatly err, if we figured to ourselves the Para- disaic state of the first man as one of happy indolence; for, ‘in truth, it was far otherwise designed, and it is clearly and - expressly said that our first parent was placed in the garden of the earth to guard and cultivate it. “To guard,” because an enemy was to be at hand, against whom it behoved to watch and tocontend. “To cultivate,” possibly in a very different man- ner, yet still with labour, though, doubtless, a labour blessed with far richer and more abundant recompense than afterwards, when, on man’s account, the earth was charged with malediction. This first divine law of nature, if we may so speak, by virtue of which labour and struggle became from the beginning the des- tiny of man, has retained its full force through all succeeding ages, and is applicable alike to every class, and every nation, to each indiyidual as well as to mankind in general, to the most important, as to the most insignificant, relations of society. He who weakly shrinks from the struggle, who will offer no resistance, who will ene*re no labour nor fatigue, can neither fulfil his own vocation, whatever it be, nor contribute aught to the general welfare of mankind. But since man hath been the prey of discord, two different wills have contended within him for the mastery—e divine and a natural will. Even his freedom is no longer that appy freedom of celestial peace —the freedom of one who hath conquered and triumphed —but a freedom, as we now see it—the freedom of undetermined choice—of arduous, still undecided, struggle. To return to the divine will, or the one comformable to (,od—to restore har- mony between the natural and the divine will, and to convert and transform more and more the lower, earthly, and natural will into the higher and divine one, is the great task of man- kind in general, as of each individual in particular. And this return—this restoration—this transformation—all the endea- vours after such—the progress or retrogressions in this path— constitute an essential part of universal history, so far as this embraces the moral development and intellectual march of humanity. But the fact that man, so soon as he loses the internal sheet-anchor of truth and life—so soca as he abandons the eternal law of divine ordinance, falls immediately under the dominion of nature, and becomes her bondsman, each indi- viduel may learn frou his own interior, his own experience, and A TEER LENE GI IRS BOL LIST POT . ieee ie eddie ee a a tn gr shen mse wee: EP PR REED ie ie tard a ae lity HISTORY 9} survey of life; since the violent disorderly might of passion herself is only a blind power of nature acting within us. Al- though this fact is historical, and indeed the first of all histo rical facts, yet as it belongs to all mankind, and reeurs in each individual, it may be regarded as a psychological fact and phe- nomenon of human consciousness. And on this very account it does not precisely fall within the limits of history, and it precedes all history ; but all the consequences or possible con- sequences of this fact, all the consequences that have really occurred, are within the essential province of history. The next consequence which, after this internal discord had broken out in the consciousness and life of man, flowed from the development ‘of this principle, was the division of the single race of man into a plurality of nations, and the conse- quent diversity of languages. As long as the internal harmony of the soul was undisturbed and unbroken, and the light of the mind unclouded by sin, language could be nought else than the simple and beautiful copy or expression of internal serenity ; and, consequently, there could be but one speech. But after the internal word, which had been communicated by God to man, had become obscured; after man’s connexion ~with his Creator had been broken ; even outward language necessarily fell into disorder and confusion. The simple and divine truth was overlaid with various and_ sensual fictions, buried under illusive symbols, and at last perverted into a horrible phantom. Even Nature, that, like a clear mirror of God’s creation, had originally lam revealed and transparent to the uncleuded eye of man, became now more and more unintelligible, strange, and fearful ; once fallen away from his God, man fell more and more into a state of internal con- flict and confusion. Thus there sprang up a multitude of languages, alien one from the other,’ and varying with every climate, in proportion as mankind became morally disunited, geographically divided and dispersed, and even distinguished by an organic diversity of form;—for when man had once fallen under the power and dominion of nature, his physical conformation changed with every climate. As a plant or animal indigenous to Africa or America has a totally different form and constitution in Asia, so it is with man ; and the races of mankind form so many specific variations of the same kind, from the negrc to the copper-coloured American and the e 92 PHILOSOPHY JF savage islander of the South Sea. The expression races, how- ever, applied to man, involves something abhorrent from his high uplifted spirit, and debasing to its native digmty. This diversity of races among men no one ougilt to exaggerate 1 & manner so as to raise doubts as to the identity of their origin ; for, according to a general organic law, which indeed is allowed to hold good in the natural history of animals, races capable of a prolific union, must be considered of the same origin, and as constituting the same species, Even the apparent chaos of different languages may be classed into kindred families, which, though separated by the distance of half the globe, seem still very closely allied. Of these different families of tongues, the first and most eminent are those by which their internal beauty, and the noble spirit breathing through them and apparent in their whole construction, devote for the most part a higher origin and divine inspiration ; and, much as all these languages differ from each other, they appear, after all, to be merely branches of one common stem. 3 The American tribes appear, indeed, to be singularly strange, and to stand at a feartil distance from the rest of mankind; yet the Huropean writer,* most deeply conversant with those nations and their languages, has found in their traditions and tongues, and even in their manners and customs, many positive and incontestable points of analogy with Eastern Asia and its inhabitants. When man had once fallen from virtue, no determinable limit could be assigned to his degradation, nor how far he might descend by degrees, and approximate even to the level of the brute; for, as from his origin he was a being essentially free, he was in consequence capable of change, and even in his organic powers most flexible. We must adopt this principle as the only clue to guide us in our inquires, from the nee¢ro who, as well from his bodily streneth and agility, as from his docile and in general excellent character is far from occupying the lowest grade in the scale of humanity, down to the monstrous Patagonian, the almost im- becile Peshwerais, and the horrible cannibal of New Zealand, whose very portrait excites a shudder in the beholder. How, even in the midst of civilisation, man may degenerate into * Schlegel alludes to Alexander von Humboldt.— Trans NT LF OL a EL OE HISTORY. 93 the savage state; to what a pitch of moral degradation he may descend, those can attest who have had opportunities of investigating more closely the criminal history of great cul- prits, and even, at some periods, the history of whole nations. In fact, every revolution is a transient period of barbarism, in which man, while he displays partial examples. of the most heroie virtue and generous self-devotion, is often half a savage. Nay, a war conducted with great animosity and protracted to extremities, may easily degenerate imto such a state of savage ferocity: hence it is the highest glory of truly civilised nations to repress and subdue, by the sentiment of ho- nour, by a system of severe discipline, and by a generous code of warfare, respected ‘alike by all the belligerent parties, that ten- dency and proneness to cruelty and barbarity inherent in man. Among the different tribes of savages, there are many, indeed, that appear to be of a character incomparably better and more noble than those above-mentioned; yet, after the first ever so favourable impression, a closer investigation will almost always discover in them very bad traits of character and manners.— So far from secking with Rousseau and his disciples for the true origin of mankind, and the proper foundation of the social com- pact, in the condition even of the best and noblest savages ; and so little disposed are we to remodel society upon this boasted ideal of a pretended state of nature, that we regard it, on the contrary, as a state of degeneracy and degradation. Thus in his origin, and by nature, man is no savage :—he may, indeed, at any time and in any place, and even at the present day, be- come one easily and rapidly, but in general, not by a sudden fall, but by a slow and gradual declension ; and we the more willingly adopt this view as there are many historical grounds of probability that, in the origin of mankind, this second fall of man was not immediate and total, but slow and gradual, and that consequently all those tribes which we call savage are of the same origin with the noblest. and most civilised nations, and have only by degrees descended to their present state of brutish degradation. Even the division of the human race into a plurality of nations, and the chaotic diversity of human tongues, appear, from his- torical tradition, to have become general and complete only at a more advanced period, for, in the beginning, mention is made but of one separation of mankind into two races or hostile classes. Q4 | PHILOSOPHY OF - Z use the general expression historical tradition ; for the brief and almost enigmatical, but very significant and pregnant words, in which the first great outward discord, or conflict of mankind in primitive history, is represented in the Mosaic nar- rative, are corroborated in a very remarkable degree by the Sagas of other nations, among which I may instance 1n particular those of the Greeks and the Indians, Although this primitive conflict, or opposition among men, is represented in these tra- ditions under various local colours, and not without some ad- mixture of poetical embellishment, yet this circumstance serves only for the better confirmation of the fundamental truth, if we separate the essential matter from the adventitious details. Before I attempt to place in a clearer light this first great his- torical event, which, indeed, constitutes the main syhiect of all primitive history, by showing the strong concurrence of the many and various authorities attesting it; it may be proper to eall your attention to a third fundamental canon of historical criticism, which, indeed, requires no lengthened demonstration, and is merely this, that in all inquiries, particularly into ancient and primitive history, we must not re’ect as impossible or im- probable whatever strikes us at first as strange or marvellous. For it often happens that a closer inve tigation and a deeper knowledge of a subject proves those thing precisely to be true, which at the first view or impression, appeared to us as the most singular; while, on the other hand, if we persist in estimating truth and probability by the sole standard of objects vulgar and familiar to ourselves ; and if we will apply this exclusive standard to a world and to ages so totally different, and so widely remote from our own, we shall be certainly led into the most violent and most erroneous hypotheses. In entering on this subject we must observe that, in the Mosaic account, primitive and, what we call, universal history, does not properly commence with the first man, his creation or ulterior destiny, but with Cain—the fratricide and curse of Cain. The preceding part of the sacred narrative regards, if .we may so speak, only the private life of Adam, which, how- ever, will always retain a deep significancy for all the descendants of the first progenitor. The origin of discord in man, and the transmission cf that mischief to all ages and all generations, is, indeed, the first historical fact; but on account of its universality, it forms, at | | : SE a eee ae a ide a APE LE CEPR ON A SE TS Rn NOLEN NE RIS EH ere HISTORY. 95 the same time, as I have before observed, a psychological phe- nomenon; and while, in this first section of sacred history, every thing points and refers to the mysteries of religion ; the fratricide of Cain on the other hand, and the flight of that restless criminal to Eastern Asia, are the first events and cir- cumstances which properly belong to the previnee of history. In this account we see first the foundation of the most ancient | city, by which undoubtedly we must understand a great, or at least an old and celebrated city of Eastern Asia ; and, secondly, the origin of various hereditary classes, trades, and arts ; espe- cially of those connected with the first knowledge and use of metals, and which, doubtless, hold the first place in the history of human arts and discoveries. The music, which is attributed to those primitive ages, con- sisted. probably, rather in a medicinal or even magical use of that art, than in the beautiful system of later melody. Among the various works and instruments of smitheraft, and productions of art which the krowledge of mines and metals led to, the momentous discovery of the sword is particularly mentioned: by the brief enigmatie words which relate this discovery, it is difficult to know whether we are to understand them as the expression of a spirit of warlike enthusiasm, or of a renewed . curse and dire wailing over all the succeeding centuries of he- reditary murder, and progressive evil, under the divine per- mission. In all probability, these words refer to the origin of human sacrifices, emanating as they did from an infernal design, which we must consider as one of the strongest characteristics of this race ; and those bloody sacritices of the primitive world seem to have stamped on the rites and customs, as well as on the traditions and sentiments of many natiors, a peculiar cha- racter of gloom and sadness. From this race were descended not only the inhabitants of cities, but nomade tribes, whereof many led, several thousand years ago, the same wandering life which they follow at the present day in the central parts of Eastern Asia, where vast remains of primitive mining operations are frequently found. ) It is worthy of remark that, among one of these nations, the Ishudes, who inhabit a metallic mountain, we find, if we may so speak, an inverted history of Cain ; mention is made ot the enmity between the first two brothers of mankind, but all the circumstances are set forth in a party-spirit faviurable ee Seats aaah ie Seen 96 _ PHILOSOPHY OF to Gain. It is said that the elder brother acquired wealth by gold and silver mines, but that the younger, becoming envious drove him away, and forced him to take refuge in the East * So is the race of Cain and Cain’s sons represented from ite origin, asone attached to the arts, versed in the use of metals, disinclined to peace, and addicted to habits of warfare and violence, as again at a later period, it appears in Scripture as a haughty and wicked race of giants On the other hand, the peaceful race of Patriarchs who lived in a docile reverence of God and with a holy simplicity of manners, were descended from Seth. This second progenitor of mankind occupies a very prominent place even in the tradi- tions of other nations, which make particular mention of the columns of Seth, signifying no doubt in the language of remote antiquity, very ancient monuments, and, as it were, the stony records of sacred tradition. In general, the first ten holy Progenitors or Patriarchs of the primitive world are mentioned under different names in the Sagas, nat only of the Indians, but of several other Asiatic nations, though undoubt- edly with important variations, and not without much poctical colouring. But as in these traditions we ean clearly discern the same general traits of history, this diversity of representa- tion serves only to corroborate the main truth, and to illustrate it more fully and forcibly. ‘The views, therefore, of those modern theologians, who represent the concurrent testimony of Gentile nations to the truths of primitive history as derived solely from the Mosaic narrative, and, as it were, transcribed from a genuine copy of our Bible, are equally narrow-minded and erroneous. It would be more just and more consonant with the whole spirit of the primitive world, to assert, what indeed may be conceded with little difficulty, that these nations had received much from the primeval source of sacred tradition ; but they regarded as & peculiar possession, and represented under pe- euliar forms, the common blessings of primitive revelation ; and, instead of preserving in their integrity and purity the traditions and oracles of the primitive world, they overlaid them with poetical ornament, so that their whole traditions wear a fabulous aspect, unti! 2 nearer and more patient invese *Sce Ritter’s Geography, Jsi part, page 548- Ist Edition in Ger- man. SI LEE ET BT TN LOTT IT TTR RI tn ar Se ee HISTORY, 97 tigation clearly discovers in them the main features of historic truth. Under these two different forms, therefore, doth tradition reveal to us the primitive world, or, in other words, these are the two grand conditions of humanity which fill the records of primitive history. On the one hand, we see a race, lovers of peace, revering God, blessed with long life, which they spend ‘in patri ieehal simplicity and innocence, and still no strangers to deeper science, especially in all that relates to miarell tradition and inward contemplation, and transmitting their science to posterity in the old or symbolical writing, not in fragile volumes, but on durable monuments of biotie. On the Bettas hand, we behold a giant race of pretended demi- gods, proud, a idkeed and violent, or, as they are called in the later Sagas of the heroic times, the heaven-storming - Titans. This opposition, and this discord--this hostile struggle between the two great divisions of the human race. forms the whole tenour of primitive history. When the moral harmony of man had once been deranged, and two opposite wills had sprung up within him, a Hine will or a will seeking God, and a natural will or a will bent on sensible objects, passionate and ambitious, it is easy to conceive how mankind from their very origin must have diverged into two opposite paths. Although this primitive division of mankind is now charac- terised as a difference of races, this is far from being merely the case; and that opposition which distracted the primitive world had far deeper causes than the mere distinction of a noble and a meaner race of men. It is somewhat in this manner a German scholar of the last generation divided all nations now existing, or which have appeared within the later historical ages, into se classes ; wherever he imagined he found his EADIE Celts and their descendants, he iG not words strong enough to -extol their romantic heroism; while he pursued with the most pitiless animosity, over the whole face of the earth, the unfor- tunate Monguls, and all those he deduced from that stock. The struggle which divided the primitive world into two great parties, arose far more from the opposition of feelings and of ' principles, than from difference of extraction. Great as is the interval which separates those ages and that world from oar own, we can easily comprehend how this first ute, contest of -# 98 PHILOSOPHY OF nations, which history makes mention of, was, in fact, a struggle between two religious parties — two hostile sects, though indeed under far other forms, and in different relations from any thing we witness in the present state of the world. It was, in one word, a contest between religion and impiety, conducted, however, on the mighty scale of the primitive world, and with all those gigantic powers which, according to ancient tradition, the first men possessed. * The Greek Sagas represent this two-fold state of mankind in the primitive ante-historical ages in a very peculiar manner, as the gradual decline and corruption of successive generations ; of this kind is the tradition of the ages of the world, whereof four or five are numbered. The Golden age of human felicity and the Brazen age of all-ruling violence form the two essen- tial terins of this tradition; and the intermediate ages are mere links, or points of transition, to render the account more complete. lui the age of Saturn, the first race allied to the gods lived in peace anu nappmess. and were blessed with eterna! youth; the earth poured forth her fruits and gifts m spontaneous * We must not suppose that the impiety of the Cainites was of a dogmatic kind. How could those primitive men, living so near the Fountain-head of revelation, conversing with those who had witnessed the rise and first development of man’s marvellous history, endowed with that quick, intuitive science which, in the operations of external nature, revealed to them the agency of invisible spirits, witnessing the wondrous manifestations of God’s love and power, the active ministry of his messengers of light; and, lastly, engaged themselves in a close communication with the infernal powers: how could they, I say, fall into atheism or any other species of speculative unbeliet ? Their impiety was of a more practical nature, displaying itself in a daring violation of the precepts of Heaven, and in the practice of a dark, mysterious magic. By the allurements of sense, and the fascination of their false science, they by degrees inveigled the great mass of mankind into thcir errors. Their vast powers, supported and strengthened by infernal agency, were calculated to introduce disorder and confusion in the economy of the moral and physical universe, and to let loose on this probationary world the science of the abyss. What do I say? The barrier between the visible and invisible world would have been broken down—Hell would have ruled the earth, had not the Almighty, by an awful judg- ment, buried the guilty race of men and their infernal knowledge in the waters of the Deluge. In the race of Cham, however, which perpe- tuated so many traditions of the early Cainites, some fragments of this ante-diluvian science of evil were preserved; and traces of it may still be discerned among the worshippers of Siva in India—Trans, Miao? seis SL REE ERM RSA TT ENTE LIS TN LON RE SB TEN CETTE, NR OS ROT ATTY” IT < TITANS TTS a _ ‘ DR Hee IAT: A Le LIE. EN LOOT ANON I STE REG IRS IY =a ESO ARORREFS OE: PERS, HISTORY. 99 abundance, and even the end of human life was not a real or painful death, but a gentle slumber into another and higher world of tagcat spirits. But the next generation in the’ age of Silver is repr esented as wicked, devoid of reverence for the pods, and giving loose to every turbulent passion. In the Brazen age this state of crime and disorder reached its highest piteh; lordly violence was the characteristic of the atten and gigantic Titans. Their arms were of copper and their instru- ments and utensils of brass, and even, im the construction of their edifices, they made use of copper; for as the old poet says, “black iron was not then known;” a circumstance which we must consider as_strietly historical, and as characteristic of the primitive nations.’ Between this aii the following age, the better heroie race of poetical and even historic tradition is. somewhat strangely introduced ; and the whole series of gene- rations 13 closed by the Iron age, the present and last period of the world—the term of man’s progressive degeneracy. ‘his idea of a gradual and deeper degradation of human kind in each succeeding age, appears at first sight not to accord very well with thé testimony which rored tradition furnishes on man’s primitive state; for it represents the two races of the primitive world as contemporary; and indeed Seth, the progenitor of the better and nobler race of virtuous Patriarchs, was much younger than Cain. However, this con- —tradiction is only apparent, if we reflect that.it was the wicked — and violent race which drew the other into its disorders, and that it was from this contamination a giant corruption sprang, which ‘continually increased til, ee a trifling exception, it pervaded the whole mass of mankind, and till the justice of God required the extirpation of degenerate humanity by one universal Flood. In the Indian Sagas the two races of the primitive world are represented in a state of continual or perpetually-renewed war- fare :—wicked nations of giants attack one,or other of the two Brahminieal races that descend from the virtuous Patriarchs 3 generous and divinely-inspired heroes come to their assistance and achieve many wonderful victories over these formidable foes. Such is the chief subject of all the great epic poems, _and most ancient heroic Sagas of the Indians. In conformity to their present modes of thinking, and to their present con- stitution of society, they describe that fierce race of giants aa H 2 100 PHILOSOPHY OF a degraded caste of warriors; and they even give thut de- nomination to many nations well known in later history, such | as the Chinese, who bear the same name with theta as with ourselves; the Pahlavas, who were a tribe of the ancient Medes and Persians, corresponding to one of the two sacred languages of ancient Persia—the Palhlavi—and the Ionians or Yavanas according to the Asiatic denomination of the primitive Greeks, It may even be a matter of doubt, whether a regular caste of warriors, and an hereditary priesthood, according to the very ancient system of the hereditary division of classes, did not exist in the primitive world. However great may be the chro- nological confusion evinced in these poems and Sagas, however much, perhaps, of later history may have been interwoven into their ancient narratives, and however much of poetical embel- lishment and gigantic hyperbole the whole may have received, the leading features of historic truth may still be distinguished with certainty in the chequered tablet of tradition. For the hostility of two rival races in the primitive world, considered in itself, and independently of adventitious circumstances, must be looked upon as a positive and well authenticated fact. It might perhaps be proved before the tribunal of the severest historical criticism, that poetry, that is to say, primitive historic tradition clothed with the ornaments of poetry—is often much nearer the truth in its representations of the primitive world than a dull reason, that draws its estimate of probability from mere vulgar analogies, and which sees or affects to see every- where, only stupid and brutish savages. A circumstance which we must never lose sight of in this inquiry is that man did not suffer an immediate and entire loss of those high powers with which he had been endowed at his origin; but that the loss was gradual, and that for a long time yet he retained much of those powers, and that it was indeed the fearful abuse of those faculties in his last stage of degene- racy which produced that enormous licentiousness and wicked- ness spoken of in Holy Writ. And this is the real clue to the whole purport of primitive history, and to all that appears to us in it so full of enigma. This leading subject of primitive history—the struggle between two races, as it is the first great event in universal history, is also of the utmost Importance in che investigation of the subsequent progress of nations ; for this original contest and opposition among men, according to ES FREY aa PEER sa , ‘ EE TE TRS Poem a oe ee ay TSS eRe IR or corp: See ene tt ei rev eimes CAFE PEG PTR PA IE IT EAR orenbaianneenee pier remeber ase r= HISTORY. 101 tlie two-fold direction of the will, a will econformable to that of God, and a will carnal, ambitious, and enslaved to Nature, often recurs, though on a lesser scale, in later history; or at least we can perceive something like a feeble reflection or a distant echo of this primal discord. And even at the present period, which is certainly much nearer to the last than to the first ages of the world, it would appear sometimes as if hu- manity were again destined, as at its origin, to be more and more separated into two parties, or two hostile divisions. And as the greatest of German philosophers, Leibnitz, admirably observed that the sect of atheism would be the last in Christen- dom and in the world; so it is highly probable that this sect was the last in the primitive world, though stamped with the peculiar form which society at that period must have given to it, and on a scale of more gigantic magnitude. On this important subject we Waal another observation to make, which refers more properly to an incidental circumstance in primitive history ; for our great business is with the moral and intellectual progress of man. [But even in respect to this more important object, the circumstance which we allude to should not be a over in silence, as it tends to exemplify, illustrate, and confirin the principle we have already had occa sion to enforce; namely, that we ought not to estimate by the narrow ease of present Aiblouiss and vulgar probabilities, all those facts im primitive nature and in primitive history which strike us as so strange, mysterious, and marvellous ; provided they be really attested by ancient monuments aid ancient tradition, We should ever bear in mind what a mighty wall of separation -- what an impassable abyss—divides us from that remote world both of nature and of man. I refer to the unanimous testimony of ancient tradition respecting the gigan- tic forms of the first men, and their corresponding longevity, far exceeding, as it did, the present ordinary standard of the duration of human life. With respect to the latter circum stance, indeed, there are so very many causes contributing to shorten considerably the length of human life, that we have completely lost every Gato by which to estimate its original duration; and it would be no slight problem for a profound phy siological science to discover and explain from a deeper investigation ef the internal constitution of the earth, or of astronomical influences, which are often susceptible of very 0 Sg GERRI REE NTO SE SET SES ERS RCA PY PNAS POOR NE OE NIE NOR AE TI IVETE OI ROME RET TET SBE BI SEES A BE LIER SRI SAA LEILA RR IR ‘02 PITILOSOPHY OF minute applications, the primary cause cf human longevity. By a simpler course of life and diet than the very artificial, unnatural, and over-refined modes we follow, there are even at the present day numerous examples of a longevity far beyond the ordinary duration of human life. In India it 1s by no Means uncommon to meet with men, especially in the Brahmi- nical caste, more than a hundred years of age, and in the enjoyment of a robust, and even generative vigour of constitu- tion. In the labouring class in Russia, whose mode of living is so simple, there are examples of men living to more than a hun- dred, a hundred and twenty, and even a hundred and fifty years of age; and although these instances form but rare exceptions, they are less uncommon there than in other Huropean countries. There are even remarkable cases of old men who, after the entire loss of their tecth, have gained a complete new set, as if their constitution had received a new sap of life, and a principle of second growth. What, in the present physical degene- racy of mankind, forms but a rare exception, may originally have been the ordinary measure of the duration of human life, or at least may afford us some trace and indication of such a measure; more especially as other branches of natural science offer correspondent analovies. On the other side of that great wall of separation which divides us from the primitive ages—in that remote world so little known to us, a standard for the duration of human life very different from the present may have prevailed; and such an opinion is extremely probable, supported as it is by manifold testimony, and confirmed by the sacred record of man’s divine origin. | In order better to understand and judge more correctly of the biblical number of years in human life, we ought never to overlook the very religious purport of the symbolical relation of numbers in the divine chronology. We shouid thus ever keer ourselves in readiness, as, according to the expression of Hol Writ, the hairs on a man’s head are numbered—and how much more so the years of his life !—and as nothing here must be considered fortuitous, but all things as predetermined and regulated according to the views of Providence. Again, as the Scripture often mentions that, in the hidden decrees of his mercy, the Almighty hath graciously been pleased to shorten the duration of a determined space of time :—as, for example, course of irreversible suffering—or, on the other hand, hath ARAM Eee e PEEL CT EAST IES IIE RL PE TITS FD Hee Se IES NTS TIE RN HISTORY | 103 | added a certain mumber of years to a determined period of grace, or prolonged the duration of a man’s life: it behoves us to examine which of these two courses of divine favour be in any proposed case discoverable. In the extreme longevity of the holy Patriarchs of the primitive world—a longevity which as has been long proved and acknowledged, must be understood with reference oly to the common astronomical years, the lat- ter course of the divine goodness is discernible, and human life in those ages must be regarded as miraculously and super- naturally prolonged.* In the duration of Enoch’s life, that holy prophet of the primitive world, whose translation was no death, but which, as the exit originally designed for man, should on that account be considered natural, the coincidence with the astronomical number of days in the sun’s course round the earth is the more striking, as in the number of 865 years the number 83 is comprised as the root—a number which, in every respect, and in the most various application, is discovered to be the primary number of the earth. For, with the shght difference of an unit, the number of 365 years corresponds to the sum of 338, with the addition of 33; but the number of days strictly eofiprigedai in those 3865 years amounts to four times 33,000, with the addition of four times 330 days. With Metta to the gigantic stature attributed to the primi- tive race of men, by the authentic testimony of universal tra- dition;—a testimony which it is easy to distinguish from mere poetical embellishment or exaggeration—it is singular that * Noah affords another striking example of a wonderful prolongation or delay of time. The first nine Patriarchs of the primitive world pro- pagated their race at the mean or average term of the hundredth year | of their lives: —some near that period—others considerably earlier—- and others again much later. But in the case of Noah we find that, to the mean term of a hundred years, four hundred were yet added; and that the Patriarch was five hundred years of age when he propa- gated his race. The high motive of this evidently supernatural delay may be traced to the fact that, although during this long prophetic period of preparation, the holy Scer well foresaw and felt firmly assured of the judgments impending over a degenerate and corrupt world, it was not equally clear to him that he was destined by God to be the second progenitor of mankind, and the renovator of the human race. But that great doom of the world, already foretold by Enoch, Noah probably expected to be its last end; and hence perhaps might consider the propagation of his race as not altogether conformable to the divine will, till the hidden decrees of the Eternal were more fully and more clear] y revealed to him. | . . ‘ 104 PHILOSOPHY OF those who are otherwise so disposed to apply the analogies of nature to the human species, should in this instance, at least, hold up the now ordinary scale of human bulk as the only standard of probability and certainty. The remains, more than once alluded to, of that primitive world which has perished, show that of the elephant, rhinoceros, and hip- popotamus, the laryest of all existing animals, there were originally from twenty to thirty different tribes and species which are now extinct. Of the mammoth, that gigantic animal of antiquity, remains of which are found not only in Siberia and America, but in the different countries of Europe, near Paris, and even in this immediate neighbourhood, a great number of various species have been also proved to have existed from the investigation of these antediluvian remains. Even of animals more familiar to us, bones and other re- mains have been discovered of a very unusual and truly gigantic size. Bulls’ horns fastened together by a front-bone —antlers of stags, and elephants’ tusks have been found, which prove those animals to have been of a dimension, three, four, or five times greater than they usually are at pre- sent. If in this elder period of organic nature, and of an animal kingdom which has become extinct, this gigantic style was so very prevalent, 1s it not reasonable to infer a similar analogy in the human species, so far at least as relates to their physical conformation, especially when this analogy is unani- mously attested by the primitive Sagas and traditions of all nations ? | As regards our sacred writings, I must observe that they tacitly imply, and indeed pretty clearly attest, the superior sta- ture as well as great longevity of the first men, while, on the other hand, they represent the really gigantic structure of body as an organic degradation and degeneracy, originating in the illicit union of the two primitive races—the Cainites and the Sethites—an union which was the source of universal corrup- tion—as the all-destroying deluge was a mighty judgment brought about by the pride and wickedness of those giants and was indeed against those principally directed.—Even at a later period, the Scripture speaks of some nations of eiants, that, prior to the introduction of the Israelites into the promised land, occupied several of 1ts provinces, such as Moab, Ammon, Bashan, and the country about the primitive city of giants— Ss Ca OT . eS EEOC RTT DET RE ESTAR ears RE NF ENTE EN AER RIOT CL ITE TI = ag itd LETT EY RRP I: PONCE RESTING : FO TE EC ENO BDI. ENE P ITT EH ta ’ " EE re etm HISTORY. 105 {Tebron. These tribes are represented as celebrated for valour indeed, yet as inclined solely to war fare, wild and wicked ; and even the individual giants that appear in the age of Moses and in the history of David, are described as peculiarly monstrous from their great corporal deformity. The only savage tribe now existing (as far as our present knowledge of the globe can enable us to speak, ) possessed of a very uncommon, enormous, and almost gigantic stature—the Patagonians of America, are at the same time noted for their personal deformity. With ‘hem it is the upper part of the body that is of such a dispro- portionate length, for when seen on horseback they appear to be real giants, and hence they were so accounted at first. When on a closer inspection we see the whole length of their bodies in the attitude either of standing or of walking, we perceive indeed they are of the very extr: aordinary height of from seven to eight feet, but not of that gigantic stature which the first impression led us-to suppose, and which may so naturally have given rise to exaggerated accounts. After all this, and what has been above stated, I need say no more than frankly declare that, as to these two points, the ex- traordivary longevity and gigantic stature of the first men,— I never could have the courage to raise a formal doubt against the plain declaration of Holy Writ, and the general testimony of primitive tradition. The full explanation, the more correct conception, and the perfect comprehension of these two facts ure perhaps reserved for a later period, and the investigations of a deeper physical science. There exist, also, monuments, or rather fragments of edifices, of the most primitive antiquity, which, as they are connected with the subject under discussion, are here deserving of a slight notice. I allude to those cyclopean walls, ‘athe are to ie found in several parts of Itaiy, and which those who have once seen will not easily forget, nor the singular stamp of antiquity they bear. In this very peculiar prone we see, instead of the stones of the usual cubical or oblong form, huge frag- ments of rock rudely cut into the shape of an irregular polygon, and skilfully enough joined together. Even the great, and often admired, subterraneous aqueduct, or Cloaca of ancient Rome is considered as belonging to this cyclopean architecture, remains of which exist aleos near Argos, and in several other varts of Greece. These edifices were ‘certainly not built by tha 106 PHILOSOPHY OF celebrated nations that at a later period occupied these countries; for eyen they regarded them as the work and production of a primitive and departed race of giants; and hence the name which these monuments received. When we consider how very imperfect must have been the instruments of those remote ages, and that they cannot be supposed to have possessed that know- ledge in mechanics which the Egyptians, for instance, display in the erection of their obelisks ; we can easily conceive how men were led to imagine that more vigorous arms and other powers than those belonging to the present race of men were necessary to the construction of those edifices of rock. Thus have we now endeavoured to explain, as far as was necessary for our purpose, the origin of that dissension, which is inherent in human nature, and forms the basis of all his- tory. We have, in the next place, sought to unfold and illus- trate the universal tradition, which attests the hostility between the virtuous Patriarchs and the proud Titans of the primitive world, or the different and opposite spirit that characterised the two primitive races of mankind ; assigning, at the same time, to savage nations, or to the more degraded portions of human kind, their proper place in history—a place important un- doubtedly, but still secondary in the great scheme of humanity. These facts, too important to be passed over in silence, form the introduction, and are, as it were, the porch to universal his- tory, and to the civilisation of the human species in the later historical ages. Now that we have seen mankind divided and split into a plurality of nations, our next task, in the period which follows, 1s to discover the most remarkable and most civilised nations, and to observe in what peculiar forms the Word. whether innate in man, or communicated to him—the word which may be considered the essence of all the high pre- rogatives and characteristic qualities of man ; to observe, we say, in what peculiar forms the word is assumed among each of those nations, in their language and writing, in their religious tradi- tions, their historical Sagas, their poetry, art and science. In the account of ancient nations, we shall adopt the ethnographi- eal mode of treating history; and it will be only in modern and more recent times that this method. will gradually give place ta the synchronical ; and the reasons of this change will be sue- gested by the very nature of the subject. In this general sur- vey, we must confine ourselves to those mighty and eclebrated } i i ls | eg ON TERE LIE IE IMT PLP TN Pe a ; we COLA IN LATE ESAS ARN UIT Sf DRIOOUNY oy su Ep Te Te ese HISTORY. 107 nations who have attained to a high degree of intellectual ex. cellence ; and we shall select and briefly state remarkable traits or extraordinary historical facts illustrative of the manners, social institutions, political refinement, and even political his- tory of eyery nation, worthy of occupying a place in this sketch, in order the better to mark the progress of the intel- lectual principle in the peculiar culture and modes of thinking of each. It is only at a later period that political history be- comes the main object of attention, and almost the leading principle in the progressive march, and even the partial retro- eressions of mankind. In this general picture of the earliest development of the human Pane we can select such nations only as are sufficiently -well known, or respecting whom the sources of information are now at lente of easier access ; for were we to comprehend in this general survey, nations with whom we were less perfectly ac- quainted, we should be Jed into minute and interminable re- searches, without, after all, perhaps, obtaining any new or satisfactory result for the principal object in view. In the first period of antiquity will figure the Chinese, the Indians, and the Keyptians, besides the ‘solated, and the so-called chosen people — of the Hebrews; and if Iecommence by the remotest of the civilised countries of Asia, China, I beg leave to premise that I mean to determine no question of priority as to the respective antiquity of those nations, or to adjudge any preference to one or other amongst them. Indeed, their own chronological accounts and pretensions, which often deserve the name of chronological fictions, turn out, on a closer inquiry, to be mere Hilde of See atl periods; and asound historical eri- ticism will not admit that they were originally meant to be chronological. Suffice it to say that the three nations we have mentioned belonged to the same period of the world, and at- tained to an equal, ora very similar, degree of moral and intel- lectual refinement; and so in respect to that higher object, the chronological dispute becomes unnecessary, or is, at Jeast, of minor importance. Among’ those, however, who take an active part in. these researches, a ‘partiality for one or other of these ‘nations, and for their respective antiquity, easily springs up ; for even objects the most remote will excite in the human breast the spirit of party. In order to keep as free as possible from prepossessions of this kind, I have adopted a species of geo- 198 PHILOSOPHY OF phieal division of my subject, which, when I come to treat later of the different periods of modern history, will give place to a more chronological arrangement. I said a spectes of geo- graphical division, for undoubtedly from the special nature of this historical inquiry, it must be supposed I shall take a dif- ferent point of view in the geographical survey of the earth than ordinarily occurs in geographical investigations. The geo- graphies for common use properly take as their basis the present situation of the different states and kingdoms now in existence, but a more scientific geography adopts the direction of moun- tains, and the course of rivers. the valleys produced by the former, and the space occupied by the waters of the latter, as the leading clue to the division and arrangement of the earth. Thus in the philosophy of history the series of the prmeipal civilised states will forma high, commanding -chain ; and the philosophic historian will have to follow from east to west, or in any other direction that history may point out, not merely rivers transporting articles of commerce, but the mighty stream of traditions and doctrines which has traversed and fertilised the world. As the individuals who ean be termed historical form but rare exceptions among mankind, so in the whole circum!erence of the globe, there are only a certain number of nations that occupy an important and really historical place in the annals of civilisation. By far the greater part of the inhabited or habitable globe, however rich and ample a field it may offer to the investigations of. the naturalist, cannot be included in this class, or has not attained to this degree of eminence. In the whole continent of Africa, there is, besides Egypt, only the northern coast stretching along the Mediterranean, that is at all connected with the history and intellectual progress of the civilised world. The other coasts of Africa, including its southernmost cape, furnish points of importance to com- merce, navigation, und even some attempts at colonisation ; while the interior parts of this continent, still so little known, possess much to excite the attention and wonder of the natu- ralist ; but beyond this, its maritime as well as central regions, cannot he said to occupy a place in the intellectual history, or in the moral progress of our species. It is only since it has formed a province of the Russian Empire, that the vast terri- tory of Northern Asia has become known to us, and _ has PLATO EI ELS LE LIN BO IF CE TI ES AFIT IL POE 2 ne ATT SLRS Ee POLI SY IE TL ET TPN OI ’ a ds i SVT DFT I DOE on Sh air at ee eed ooate owe ee ESP ERM IA CORA ek EIEIO HISTORY, 109 been as it were, newly discovered. From central and eastern Asia, from the south of Tartary and the north of China, many mighty and conquering nations have issued, that have spread the terror of their arms over the face of civilisation, as far as the frontiers of Europe. But, im the march and development of the human mind, these nations are far from occupying the same emineut station. In this respect, also, the fifth continent of the globe, Polynesia— though nearly equal to Kurope in extent, counts as nought. Even America, the largest of those continents, occupies here a comparatively subordinate rank ; and it is only in latter ages, and since its discovery, that it can be said to belong to history. Since that period, indeed, the inhabitants of this portion of the world haye adopted, for the most part, the language, the manners, the modes of thinking, and the political institutions of Europe ; for the still subsisting remnant. of its ancient savages 1s very inconsiderable ; so that America may be re- garded as a remote dependency, and, as it were, a continuation of old Europe on the other side of the Atlantic. Great as the re-action may be, which this second Europe, sprung up in the solitudes of the new world, has during the last fift years exerted on its mother-continent, still as this influence forms a part but of very recent history, it is only in very mo- dern times that America has obtained any historical weight and importance. Even in this natural configuration, the new world is more widely different from the old, than the principal parts of the latter are from each other. As in comparing the northern extremity of the earth with its southern or aqueous extremity, we observe a striking disparity, and almost complete opposition between the two 3 so we shall find this to be the case, if, in advancing in the opposite direction from east to west, we di- vide the whole surface of the earth into two equal parts. On one hand that more important division of the earth, extending from the western coast of Africa to the eastern coast of Asia, comprises the three ancient continents, which, from the upper to the middle part, occupy almost the whole space of this half of the globe. Here is the greatest quantity of land, and the animal kingdom, too, is on a more large and magnificent scale. It is only at the southern extremity of this hemisphere that sea and water are predominant} and here a continuous chain a aint eee nt errs a i a yo PHILOSVUPITY OF of islands from the southernmost point of Asia reaches to the fifth and last portion of the globe—Australia, making it a sort of Asiatic dependency. Inthe American hemisphere, the ele- ment of water is nredominant, not only at the southern ex- tremity, but towards the middle; for, large as America may be, it can bear no comparison with the other continents in respect to extent of surface. Our hemisphere is more remark- able even for extent of population than for the quantity of land. Here, indeed, is the chief seat of population, and the principal theatre of human history and human civilisation. The entire population of America, which, as it is for the -most part of European extraction, is better known to us than that of many couutries more contiguous—the entire population of America at the highest computation of the whole number of inhabitants on the globe, forms but a thirtieth part, and at the lowest computation, not a four-and-twentieth part of the whole. Widely extended as this thinly-peopled continent 1s, the whole number of its inhabitants scarcely exceeds the popu- lation of a single great European state, such as either France or Germany, whose population, indeed, it about equals. Ve- getation, indeed, is most rich and luxuriant in America; but the two most generous plants reared by human culture, and which are so closely connected with the primitive history of man—corn and the vine—were originally unknown in this quarter of the world. In the animal kingdom, America is far inferior to the other and more ancient continents of the globe. Many of. the noblest and most beautiful species of animals did not exist there originally; and others, again, were found most unseemly in form, and most degenerate in nature. Some species of animals indigenous to that continent form but a feeble compensation for the absence of others, the most: useful and most necessary for the purposes of husbandry and the domestic uses of man. We may boldly lay it down as a general proposition not to be taxed with error or exaggeration, that in the new hemisphere, vegetation is predominant, while in the old, animal force preponderates, and is more fully developed. This superiority is apparent, not only in the com- parative extent of population, but in the organic structure of the human form. Even the African tribes are far superior in bodily strength and agility to the aboriginal natives of Americas and in point of longevity and fecundity, the latter RELL. NEPAL MRR RR RS BIE: ED. t8)" SRIRAM IRN TEE TT GAR Meh STAT TINTS DI EDEMA I IEE AN 2 LIU SN aE RIEY Be RD EAT ATT ET PGS TE ey ee LS RASS GOONER EG ORL BOS LES ey RS POET IT e Dai ee Te eae SRST 2) fe elgg in mn GTA Ao ec i UR ao RR Re ers Thal Wain Go Shar Sh nr ee (A TNR SPY TE EET LTS EL APSE NIT, HAT sae PNPAK BELINOT IMET TPT CLOTTING HISTORY. 1]1 are not to be compared with the Malayan race, and the Mongul tribes in the central or north-eastern parts of Asia, and in Southern Tartary, races with whom, in other respects, they seem to bear some analogy. As the American continent, in other respects SO incomplete, is mostly separated from all the others; and its form is more simple and less complex than that of the ancient divisions of the globe, it well deserves our consideration in that point of view; and it may perhaps furnish the general type and true geographical outline of a continent in its natural state. A narrow isthnius connects, the upper half, stretching in a widely extended tract towards the North Bale and the inferior part, with its southern peak; and thus both form, according’ to general impression, but one and the same continent; and so prove, in fact, how totally the northern and southern parts of a continent may differ. That now in the period when the Euxine was still united to the Caspian, when the White Sea stretched further into land, and the Ural Mountains formed an island, or were surrounded to the north and south by the sea, Asia and Europe were probably separated towards the north, is a poimt to which we have already had occasion to allude. But if, on the one hand, Europe was separated from Asia, it might on the other have been easily joined to Africa by © an jae tas, where it is now divided from it by a strait, and so have formed with it one connected continent; in the same way as Australia is united with Asia, if at least we consider the long chain of islands between them as one unbroken conti- nuity. Then in truth there would have been but three continents of a form similar to the above-mentioned one of America ; except that. the two nobler continents closely en- tangled with one another would not on that account have sa ell preserved the original conformation. That it is on the whole more correct, Hi more consonant with nature, as well as with theory, to suppose the existence of only three original portions of the globe, might be shown by much additional evidence. But, laying aside these geological facts and observations, ideas and conjectures, the philosophic historian can reckon over the whole surface of the globe but fifteen historical and important civilised countries of greater or less extent, which ean form the subject and furnish the geographical eraine af 112 | PHILOSOPHY OF his remarks. ‘This historical chain of lands, or this stream of historical nations from the south-east of Asia to the northern and western extremities of Europe. forms a tract, through both continents, which though of considerable breadth, is not, in proportion to the extent of these continents, of very great magnitude, and which may be divided into three classes, coinciding chronologically in their several periods of historical glory and development with the great eras or sections of iniversal history from the primitive ages down to the present times. In the first class of these mighty and celebrated sivilised countries, I would place the three great magnificent regions in Eastern and Southern Asia, China, India, between which the ancient Bactriana forms a point of transition and connecting link—and lastly Persia. In a more westerly and somewhat more northerly direction than the three countries just named, the second or middle class is composed of four or five regions remarkable for extent and beauty, and above all for their historical importance and celebrity. First of all, there is that middle country of Western Asia, above-mentioned, which is situate near two great streams--the Tigris and the Euphrates, and bounded by four inland seas, the Persian and Arabian gulfs, and the Caspian and Mediterranean seas. Upon this midland country of ancient history, in every respect so worthy of notice, I have but one observation to add, that in this great series of civilised countries it occupies nearly the middle place; for the southern extremity of India is about as far removed from it, as in the opposite direction, the north of Scotland. And the eastern part of China is not much more distant from this region, than in the opposite quarter the western coast of the [esperian Peninsula. Next must be included in this class the cireumjacent countries, Arabia, Egypt, and Asia Minor, together with the Caucasian regions, As in the flourishing period of her ancient history, Greece was in every way far more closely connected with Asia Minor, Pheenicia and Egypt, than with the countries of Kurope, she also must be comprised in this division of Central Asia. On the other hand, there is no country in Europe which, consi- dered in itself, bears so strongly the distinctive geographical configuration peculiar to the European continent. This pecu- Jar configuration of Europe, so well adapted to the purposes of settlement, and to the progress of civilisation, consists in TET NE Le ATL LN I TTS a cm ma BST 2 rg eh sP a CO EON RTE DEL OTE LE IIL O LL OE LED TIE DEAE TL LE ER TL EER TET AIOE Sa ay ali — . oh Sa NYG OAT TIT = rhatu ne SOP OS Te LCR at ee ROE EE ID CR FRI GH GT NY LTS ALLY Te RTE EMR BION EIN LLNS LI EOE STE ITN STII IE ee TS ee te HISTORY. 113 this—that in no other continent does the same given space of territory present to the sea so extensive and AR crined: a line of coast, and furnish it with so many streams, great and small, as Europe, shut in as it is, between two inland seas, and the great ocean, and which runs out into so many great and commo- diously situated peninsulas, and possesses large, magnificent, and in part, very anciently and highly civilised islands, like Sicily and the British Isles. What Europe is in a large way, Greece is in a small—a region of coasts, islands, and peninsulas. Belonging more to one continent in its natural conformation, and to the other by its historical connexion, Greece forms the point of transition and the intermediate link between Asia and Europe. The other six or seven principal countries in Europe, taken according to a strict geographical classification, and without paying arencien to the political variations of territory, whether in antiquity, the middle ages, or modern times, form the -~members of the third class. These are, first the two beautiful peninsulas, Italy and Spain ; next France on the north and south washed by two different seas, and towards the north, jutting out into a by-no-means inconsiderable peninsula— further on, the British Isles, the ancient Germany with its northern coast stretching along two seas, to which must be annexed from the ancient consanguinity of their iuhabitants, the Cimbric and Scandinavian isiands and peninsulas ; lastly, the vast Sarmatia, towards the north and east extending far into Asia, in the widestrcte trem thesFuxine to the Frozen Sea. From Sarmatia, however, must be separated, on account of their natural situation, the great Danubian countries, extending from the south a the Carpathian Mountains, down ‘to the Ba mountainous chain northward of aoe et as the ancient Illyricum, Pannonia, and Dacia—regions which, in a strict geographical point of view, must be regarded as forming a distinct class. In an historical point of view, the whole northern coast of Africa, stretching along the Medi- terranean,. should be included in this division of European countries, not only from that early commercial and colonial connexion, established in the time of the Carthaginian republic, and in the first period of the Roman wars and conquests ; but from the prevalence in that country, down to the fourth and Gfth centuries, of European manners, language, and refinement | ‘ 3 - : ; ° Foal atin Teg URN PRR PILI NTT TT ETT OTT FN Te ee Te ee ee Le ee ae ee eee Soc dal 2 eS hae Samct-|, or, Fy pled > GRlesalanind age enaaeceatt eee ce 14 PITILOSOPHY oF Even during the existence of the Saracenic empire, a very close intercourse subsisted for many centuries between this coast and Spain. Such, according to a general geographical survey of the globe, would be the historical land-chart of civilisation, if | may so express myself, which forms the grand outline I must steadily keep in view, in the following sketch of nations, in which I will endeavour to explain with the utmost clearness and precision, and point out closely in all its particular bearings, the principle laid down in this work respecting the internal Word, as the essential characteristic of man. END OF LECTURE If, LLY LN RE A TER RRS AR i ETRE SIE, SEMI TTP TES TRL LE EE ST AGERE TSS hk, te OSI ERIE Sm, PL FMF PIC TICS PELE TI PEI UTE TT RIMES Ane mE TP ianiineianieeisden ee ag TLE oe A Ne. vesbeae Sa Bebe LTO I OME PONE SIRT DEE ye NERS HISTORY. 115 LECTURE III. Df the Constitution of the Chinese Empire—the moral and politica}. Cendition of China—the Character of Chinese Intellect and Chinese Science. “Man and the earth,’—this has been the subject of our pre- vious disquisitions, and might serye as the superscription to this first portion of the work. In the second part, comprised in the four or five following lectures, the subject discussed is sacred tradition, according to the peculiar form which it assuned among each of the great and most remarkable nations - in primitive antiquity, and as it is known from the visible and universally scattered traces of a divine revelation. It will be our duty to trace, with a discriminating eye, the various course which, in the lapse of ages, this sacred tradition followed among each of those nations ; and at the same time to point out, as far as the subject will admit of historical proof, the one common source whence, as from a centre, issued those different streams of tradition to diffuse throughout all the regions of the earth fertility and life, or to be lost and dried up in the sterile sands of human error. It will be also our task more accurately to define the share allotted to each of these leading nations im divine truth, or the heritage of higher knowledge which had been imparted to them, Closely connected with this subject, is the designation of the internal Word, constituting as it does the distinguishing mark and intellectual being of man and mankind ; and which, as it has been variously manifested and developed in the language, writings, Sagas, history, art, and science—in thie faith, the life, and modes of thinking of each of those nations, will be described in its most essential traits. I shall commence with the Chinese Empire, because, among the fifteen historical countries included in the line of civilisa- tion we have drawn above, it occupies the extreme point of Eastern Asia. The names of east and west are indeed purely relative ; and have not the same permanent and definite signi- | 12 Lié . PHILOSOPHY OF fication as the North or South Pole in every portion of the globe. China lies to the west of Peru ; and to North America, or Brazil, Europe forms the east or north-east point. We still, however, adhere to common speech, purely relative as it is, and take our point of view from this Asiatic and European hemisphere, in which we dwell. If we would extend in a westerly direction and to the great continent of America, which is more and more assuming an important place in the history of the world, that series of great and civilised states, stretching from the south-east to the north-west in our mightier, more celebrated, and earlier civilised hemisphere, we might add to the before-mentioned tifteen ancient and modern coun- tries three young or rising states in the new world, which, springing in a three-fold division from British, Spanish, and Portuguese extraction, would constitute the most recent, or last historical links in this chain of communities. __ The Chinese Empire is the largest of all the monarchies now existing on the earth, and even in this respect may well chal- lenge the attention of the historical inquirer. This empire is not absolutely the greatest in territorial extent, though even in this respect it is scarcely inferior to the greatest ; but in point of population it is in all probability the first. Spain, if we could now include in the number of her possessions her Ame- rican colonies, would exceed all empires in extent. The same may be said of Russia, with her annexed colonies, and bound- less provinces in the north of Asia. But, great as the popula- tion of this empire may be, when considered in itself and relatively to the other [uropean states, it can sustain no com- parison with that of China. England with the Hast Indies and her colonial possessions in the three divisions of the globe, Polynesia, Africa, and America, has indeed a very wide extent, and, perhaps, when we include the hundred and ten millions that own her sway in India, comes the nearest in point of popu- lation to China. Of the amount of the Chinese population, which is not with certainty known, that of India may furnish a criterion for a conjectural and probable estimate. The Bri- tish ambassador, Lord Macartney, received an official document, in which the whole population of China was computed at the monstrous amount of 830 millions. Even if the Chinese pos- sessed those exact statistical estimates we have in Europe, it would still be a matter of doubt how far in such cases we could TLL ITT ET PROT RSW SEERA Ae ET Sage E= TOTO DS RM, LANG EAD ON A ee me II Raat. Aaa SE Pa al Ae SEL NTR ay TS RT CR WR RE ee APR TON NTR eee TERN arin cane Leet ar haber rene aa UAVS! a ODEON ew HISTORY. 117 confide in their veracity, especially in their relations with foreigners, and Europeans. In another and somewhat earlier statistical work, composed towards the close of the 18th cen tury, the population of this empire is estimated at 147 millions, and the very incredible statement is added, that a hundred and fifty years before, or about the middle of the 17th century, the Chinese population amounted only to 27 millions and a half. This rapid rise, or rather this prodigious stride in the numbers of a people, would be in utter opposition to all principles and observations on the growth and progressive increase of popula- tion, even in the most civilised countries. Thus even the sta- tistical estimates of the Chinese furnish us with no certain in- formation on this subject. However, as this vast region is everywhere intersected by navigable rivers and canals, every- where studded with large and highly-populous cities, and enjoys -a climate as genial, or even still more genial, and certainly far more salubrious than that of India; as, like the latter country, it everywhere presents to the eye the richest culture, aud is in all appearance as much peopled, or over-peopled,.we may take India, whose total population is not near included in the 110 millions under British rule, as furnishing a pretty accu- ‘ate standard for the computation of the Chinese population. Now, when we reflect that even the proper China is larger than the whole western peninsula of India, and that the vast countries dependent on China, such as Thibet and Southern ‘artary are very populous, the conjectural calculation of the anit writer, from whom I have taken these eritical remarks on the early estimates of Chinese population, and who reckons it at 150 millions, may be regarded as a very moderate compu- tation, and may with perfect safety, be considerably raised. Thus, then, the Chinese population is nearly as large as the whole population of Europe, and constitutes, if not a fourth, at least a fifth, of the total population of the globe. I permit myself to indulge in cursory comparisons of this kind, and for the reason that the history of civilisation, which forms the basis, and, as it were, the outward body, of the philosophy of history, which should be the inner and higher sense of the whole, is deeply interested in all that refers to the eeneral condition of humanity. And such an interest, which: does not of itself lie in mere statistical calculations, but in the 118 | PHILOSOPHY OF outward condition of mankind, as the symbol of its inward state, may very well attach to comparisons of this nature. The interest, however, which the philosophic _ historian should take in all that relates to humanity in general, and to the various nations of the earth, ought not to be regulated by the false standard of an indiscriminate equality, that would consider all nations of equal importance, and pay equal atten- tion to all without distinction. This would, indeed, betray an indifference to, or at least ignorance of, the higher prin- ciple implanted in the human breast. But this interest should be measured not merely by the degree of population in a state, or by geographical extent of territory, or by external power, but by population, territory, and power combimned—by moral worth and intellectual pre-eminence, by the scale of civilisation to which the nation has attained. The Tongoosses, though a very widely-diffused race, the Calmucks though, compared with the other nations of Central Asia, they have much to claim our attention, cannot certainly excite equal interest, or hold as high a place in the history of human civilisation as the Greeks or the Egyptians ; though the territory of lgypt itself is cer- tainly not particularly large nor, according to our customar standard of population, were its inhabitants in all probability ever very numerous. In the same way the empire of the Moguls, which embraced China itself, has not the same high interest and importance in our eyes, as the Roman Empire either in its rise or in its fall. Writers on universal history have not however always avoided this fault, and have been too much disposed to place all nations on the same historical footing—on the false level of an indiseriminate equality; and to regard hu- manity in a mere physical pomt or view, and according to the natural classification of tribes and races. In these sketches of history, the high and the noble is often ranked with the low and the vulgar, and neither what is truly great, nor what is of lesser importance (for this, too, should not be overlooked), has its due place in these portraits of mankind. A numerous, or even excessive population is undoubtedly an essential element of political power in a state; but it is not the only, nor in any respect, the principal symptom or indica- tion of the civilisation of a country. It is only in regard to civilisation that the population of China deserves our consi- SER TRNSCGRS TD CTS Paes paw i AAT 8 FLT PELLETS BNO LPO RRL FE eta aa el har ten ine a ee ecndemesn altace aie aa AaNY ili re AAU RNB Er ul > Oo ihkae Woe BIE ape Lhe gO cag Sd A ne, Joe neath abe Oa Oh eae OES Sy at niall Moat gy HISTORY 119 deration. Aithougn in these latter times, when Europe, by her political ascendency over the other parts of the world, has proved the high pre-eminence of her arts and civilisation ; England and Russia have beeome the immediate neighbours of China towards the north and west; still these territorial relations affect not the rest of lturope; and China, when we leave out of consideration its very important commerce, cannot certainly be accounted a political power in the general system. Even in ancient, as well as in modern times, China never figured in the history: of Western Asia or Europe, and had ‘no connexion whatever with their inhabitants; but this great country has ever stood apart, like a world within itself, in the remote, unknown Eastern Asia. Ience the earlier writers on universal history have taken little or no notice of this. great empire, shut out as it was from the confined horizon of their views. And this was natural, when we consider that the con- quests and expeditions of the Asiatic nations were considered by these writers as subjects of the greatest weight and import- ance. . No conquerors have ever marched from China into Western Asia, like Xerxes, for instance, who passed from the interior of Persia to Athens; or like Alexander the Great, who extended his victorious march from his small paternal province of Macedon, to beyond the Indus, and.almost to the borders of the Ganges, though the latter river, he was, in despite of all his efforts, unable to reach. But the great victorious expeditions have proceeded not from China, but from Central Asia, and the nations of Tartary, who have invaded China itself; though in these invasions the manners, mind, and civilisation of the Chinese have evinced their power, as their Tartar conquerors, in the earliest as in the latest times, have, after a few genera- tions, invariably conformed to the manners and civilisation of . the conquered nation and become more or less Chinese. Not only the great population and flourishing agriculture of this fruitful country, but the cultivation of silk, for which it has been celebrated from all antiquity; the culture of the tea-plant, which forms such an important article of European trade; as well as the knowledge of several most useful medicinal produc- tions of nature; and unique and, in their way, excellent products of industry and manufacture ; prove the very high degree of civilisation which this people has attained to. And how should not that people be entitled to a high or one of the highest placea ‘120 PHILOSOPHY OF among civilised nations, which had known, many centuries before Europe, the art of printing, gunpowder, and the magnet -—those three so highly celebrated and valuable discoveries of European skill ? “Instead of the regular art of printing with transposeable letters, which would not suit the Chinese system of writing, this people make use of a species of lithography, which, to all essential purposes is the same, and attended with the same effects. Gunpowder served in China, as it did in Europe in the infancy of the discovery, rather for amusement | and for fireworks, than for the more serious purpose of warlike fortification and conquest: and though this people are acquainted with the magnetic needle, they have never made a like extended application of its powers, and never employ it either in a contined river and coasting navigation, or on the wide ocean, on which they never venture. The Chinese are remarkable, too, for the utmost polish and refinement of manners, and even for a fastidious urbanity and a love of stately ceremonial. In many respects, indeed, their polites ness and refinement almost equal those of Kuropean nations, or at least are very superior to what we usually designate by the term of Oriental manners—a term which in our sense can apply only to the more contiguous Mahometan countries of the Levant. Of this assertion we may find a sufficient proof in any single tale that pourtrays the present Chinese life and manners, in the novel, for instance, translated by M. Remusat.* In their pre- sent manners, and fashions, however, there are many things utterly at variance with European taste and feelings ; I need only mention the custom of the dignitaries, functionaries, and men of letters, of letting their nails grow to the leneth of birds’ claws, and that other custom ia women of rank, of compressing their feet to a most artificial diminutiveness. Both customs, according to the recent account of a very intelligent Enelish- man, serve to mark and distinguish the upper class; for the former renders the men totally incapable of hard or manual labour, and the latter impedes the women of rank in walking, or at least gives them a mincing gait, and a languid, delicate, and interesting air. These minute traits of manners should not be overlooked in the general sketch of this nation, for they perfectly correspond to many other characteristic marks and * Entitled Ju-Kiao-li, or the Cousins. x4, eS aesraiede™ nS te ee ee ae oe er RRA, ANS ROTEL Lech ger ec Be Raita ‘ HISTORY. 12] indications of unnatural stiffness, childish vanity, and exagge- rated refinement, which we meet with in the more inportant province of its intellectual exertions. Even in the basis of all intellectual culture, the language, or rather the writing of the Chinese, this character of refinement pushed beyond all bounds and all conception is visible, while on the other hand it is coupled with great intellectual poverty and Jejuneness. In a language where there are not much more than 800, not near 400, and {aceording to the most recent critical investigation), only 272 monosyllabic primitive roots without any kind of gram- mar; where the not merely various, but utterly unconnected, sivnifications of one and the same word are marked, in the first place, by a varying modulation of the voice, according to a four- fold method of accentuation ; in the next place, and chiefly by the written characters, which amount to the prodigious number of 80,000 ; while the Egyptian Ineroglyphs do not exceed the number of 800 ; and this Chinese system of writing is the most artificial in the whole world. An inference which is not inva- lidated by the fact that, out of that great number of all actual or possible written characters, but a fourth part perhaps is really in use, and a still less portion is necessary to be learned. As the meaning, especially of more complex notions and abstract ideas, can be fully fixed and accurately determined only by such artificial ciphers ; the language is far more dependent on these written characters than on living sound ; for one and the same sound inay often be designated by 160 different characters, and have as many significations It not rarely occurs that Chinese, when they do not very well understand each other in conyersa- tion, have recourse to writing, and by copying down these ci- phers are enabled to divine each other’s meaning, and become mutually intelligible. ‘To comprehend rightly this immeasur- able chaos of originally symbolic, but now merely conventional signs—in other words, to be able to read and write, though this science involves great and difficult problems even for the most practised, constitutes the real subject and purport of the scien- tific education of a Chinese. Indeed it furnishes labour sufh- cient to fill up the life of man, for even the European scholars, who have engaged in this study, find it a matter of no small difficulty to devise a system whereby a dictionary, or rather a systematic catalogue of all these written characters may be composed, to serve as a fit guide on this ocean of Chinese syns, 2 EN BO a aE IS ~ net et nen ett i NA CC Ct LOL LNALES LIL ALI OT 122 PHILOSOPITY OF But we shall have again occasion to recur to this subject; and indeed it is only in connexion with the peculiar bearings of the Chinese mind this writing system can be properly explained and understood in its true meaning, or rather its meaningless con- struction and elaborateness. Of the external civilisation of China, we have a striking proof and a standing monument in the construction of so many canals that intersect the whole country, and in every thing connected therewith. As the extraordinary fertility of the soil is produced by the many rivers of greater or less magnitude that intersect the country, but which at the same time threaten the flat plains with inundation, it is the first object and most important care of government, to avert the danger of such inundativus, to dis- tribute the fertilising waters in equal abundance over the whole country, and thus, by means of canals, to maintain in all parts the communication by water, which is at the same time of equal benefit and importance to industry and internal commerce. In no civilised state are establishments of this kind so extensively diffused and brought to so high a state of perfection as in China. The great imperial canal, which extends to the length of 120 geographical leagues, has, it is said, no parallel on the earth. Although the construction of canals, and all the regu- Jations on water-carriage could have attained by degrees only to their present state of per‘ection, still this alone would prove the very early attention which this people had bestowed on the arts of civilised life. Mention is often made of them in the old Chinese histories and imperial annals ; and the canals of China, like the Nile in Egypt, were ever the objects of most anxious solicitude to the government. These annals, whenever they have occasion to speak of those great inundations and de- structive floods, which are of such frequent occurrence in Chinese history, invariably represent the attention bestowed on water- courses, and water regulations, as the most certain mark of a wise, benevolent, and provident administration. On the other hand, the neglect of this most important of administrative con- cerns is ever regarded as the proof of a wicked, reckless, and unfortunate reign ; and in these histories some great calamity, or even violent catastrophe, is sure to follow, like a stroke of divine vengeance, on this unpardonable neglect of duty. To- gether with the imperial canal, the great Chinese wall, which extends on the northern frontier of China proper, to the ORE TRI IE TE Cia T ag ae Lis LT SES. EAD CREA CREE EY De a Wc US Tl he Cae aaa ELT ing Eb Hie ce ROAR UEC ita cene cee oe - re lle Sener are a Naa ge ne Rhine: x ne Si aie. NATAL SE TIS 5 EFS a Ee BEE HISTORY. 123 length ot 150 geographical leagues, is another no less i impor- ‘ris and still standing eeument of the comparatively high civilisation which fash country had very early attained. ibn is the height and thickness.of this wall, that it has been calculated that its cubic contents exceed all the mass of stone employed in all the buildings in Ingland and Scotland ; again, that the same materials would serve to construct a wall of ordinary height and moderate thickness round the whole earth. This great wall of China may be considered as a cha- racteristic, and as it were a symbol of the exclusive spirit and aversion to every thing foreign in person, manners, and modes of thinking, which distinguish the Chinese state. This spirit, however, has been as little able as the great wall it- self, to defend China against foreign conquests, or even against the introduction of foreion Re This wall, which was built about two centuries fece the Christian era, is an_ historical monument, which furnishes far stronger proof than all the du- bious accounts of the old annals, that even in ancient times, and Jong before the conquests of the Monguls, and the estab- lishment of the present dynasty of Mantchou Tartars, the empire had been often conquered, or at least was constantly exposed to the invasions of the Tartar tribes of the north. The long succession of the different native dynasties of China, Tchin, Han, Tang, and Sung, down to the Monguls, which fills the diffuse annals of the empire, furnishes few important data on the intellectual progress of the Chinese; and every thing of importance to the object of our present inquiries, that can be gathered out of the mass of political history, may be reduced to: avery few plain facts. he English writer, whom we have already cited, though otherwise inclined to a certain degree of scepticism in his views, fixes the commencement of Hieroment certainty in the anciont dynasty of Chow, eleven hundred years before the Christian era. The first fact of importance, as re- gards the moral and intellectual civilisation of China, is that this country was originally divided into many small principali- ties, and, under petty sovereigns, whose power was more limited, enjoyed a greater share of liberty : : and that it was formed into a great and absolute monarchy only two hundred years before Christ. The general burning of the books, of which more par- ticular mention will be presently made, as well as the erection of the great wall, are attributed to the first general Emperor of 124° 5": ‘ PHILOSOPHY oF all China, Chi-hoangti; in whose reign, too, Japan became a Chinese colony, or received from China a political establish- ment. At a still later period, as in the fifth century of our era, and again at the time of the Mogul conquest under Zingis Khan, China was divided into two kingdoms, a northern and a southern, But there is another fact already mentioned that throws still stronger light on the high civilisation of China—it is, that at every period, when this empire has been conquered by the Moguls and Tartars, the conquerors, overcome in their turn by the ascendency of Chinese civilisation, have, within a short time, invariably adopted the manners, laws, and even lan- guage of China, and thus its institutions have remained, on the whole, unaltered. But here is a circumstance in Chinese his- tory particularly worthy of our attention. In no state in the world do we see such an entire, absolute, and rigid monarchical unity as in that of China, especially under its ancient form: although this government is more limited by laws and manners, and is by no means of that arbitrary and despotic character which we are wont to attribute to the more modern Oriental states. In China, before the introduction of the Indian religion of Buddha, there was not even a distinct sacerdotal class— there is no nobility, no hereditary class with hereditary rights— education, and employment in the service of the state, form the only marks of distinction; and the men of letters and govern- ment functionaries are blended together in the single class of Mandarins ; but the state is all in all. However, this absolute monarchical system has not conduced to the peace, stability, and permanent prosperity of the state, for the whole history of China, from beginning to end, displays one continued series of seditions, usurpations, anarchy, changes of dynasty, and other violent revolutions and catastrophes. This ‘is proved by the bare statement of facts, though the official language of the im- perial annals ever concedes the final triumph to the monarchical principle. The same violent revolutions occurred in the department of science and of public doctrines, as in the instance already cited of the general burning of the books by order of the first reneral emperor ; when the men of letters, or at least a party of them were persecuted, and 460 followers of Confucius burnt. This act of tyranny undoubtedly supposes a very violent contest be- tween factions—an important political strusuzle between hostile ne LORE CEEOL LTT UE TE NIT IE WRATH? 0 PRETEEN Pie PONE UC TPE A Sey 9 by pe, tect epctg ge PER TRAE IRDA FT ATER a igi EC SR Wan Sear MAT: se eat SCRE LAG POSTE ING 5 pS Ai i ce nak PON TE Re Sa OH OMEN AY edt REIT OBOE ws y 2! fi ig T AN 5 le a es RNa aly Ugh ay HISTORY. 125 sects, and a mighty revolution in the intellectual world. At the same time, too, a favourite of this tyranmical prince intro- duced a new system of writing, which has led to the greatest confusion even in subsequent ages. Such an intellectual revo- lution is doubtless evident on the introduction of the Indian religion of Buddha, or Fo (according to the Chinese appella- tion), which took place precisely three-and-thirty years after the foundation of Christianity. The conquest of China by the Moguls, under Zingis Khan, occurred at the same time that their expeditions towards the opposite quarter of Murope spread terror and desolation over Russia and Poland, as far as the confines of Silesia. This conquest produced a reaction, aud a popular revolution, conducted by a common citizen of China, by name Chow, restored the empire ; this citizen afterwards as- cended the throne, and became ne founder of a new Chinese dynasty. ‘Ihe emperors of the present. dynasty of Mantchou Tartars, that has now governed China since the middle of the 17th century, are distinguished for their attachment to the old customs and institutions of China, and even to its language and science; and their elevation to the throne has given rise to many great scientific enterprises, and has been singularly fa- vourable to the investigation of those Luropean scholars whose object it is to make us Rotter acquainted with China. But at the moment I am speaking, a great rebellion has broken out in the northern part of the kingdom, and in the opposite extremity the Christians are exposed to a more than ordinary persecution. These few leading incidents in Chinese history may suffice to make known the principal epochs in the intellectual progress and civilisation of this people. As the constitution and de- velopement of the human mind are in each of those ancient nations closely connected with the nature of their language, and even sometimes (as in the case of the Chinese) with their system of writing, the language of the latter people, being, on account of its amazing copiousness, less fit for con- versation than for writing, 1 shall now make a few remarks on the very artificial mode of Chinese writing, which is perfectly unique in its kind; but I shall confine my en done to its gencral character, and shall forbear entering into the vast labyrinth of the 80,000 cipher-signs of speech, and all the problems and “ameuined which they involve. The Chinese writing was undoubtedly in its origin symbolical ; though the rude marks of those primitive symbols can now aeatealy be A i Aa AN ye Se guanine rod wee 126 — PHILOSOPHY OF discerned in the enigmatical abbreviations, and in the complex combinations of the characters at present in use. It is no slirht problem, even for the learned of China, to reduce with any degree of certainty the boundless quantity of their written characters to their simple elements and primitive roots ; in this, however, they have succeeded, and have shown that all these elements are to be found in the 214 symbols, or keys of writing, as they call them. The Chinese characters of the primitive ages comprise only such representations indicated by a few rude strokes, of those first simple objects which sur- round man while living in the most simple state of society— such as the sun and the moon, the most familiar animals, the common plants, the instruments of human labour, weapons, and the different parts of human dwellings. This is the same rude symbolical writing which we find among cther uncivilised nations, the Americans, for example, and among these, the Mexicans in particular. : The celebrated French orientalist, Abel Remusat, who in our times has infused a new life into the study of Chinese literature, and especially thrown on the whole subject a much greater degree of clearness: than originally belonged to it, has, in his examination of this first very meagre outline of the infant civilisation of China, wherein he discovers the then ver contracted circle of Chinese ideas, passed many intellectual observations, and drawn many historical deductions. And if, as he conjectures, the discovery of Chinese writing must date its origin from four thousand years back, this would bring it within three or four generations from the Deluge, according to vulgar era—an estimate which certainly is not exaggerated. If this European scholar, intimately conversant as he is with Chinese antiquities and science, is at a loss adequately to describe his astonishment at the extreme poverty of these first symbols of Chinese writing, so no one, doubtless, possesses ina higher degree than himself all the necessary attainments to enable him to appreciate the immeasurable distance between this first extreme jejuneness of ideas, and the boundless wealth displayed in the later, artificial, and complex writing of the Chinese. But when, among other things, he calls our attention to the fact that, in this primitive writing, even the sion or symbcl of a priest is wanting—a symbol which together with the class itself must exist among the very rudest nations—I canpos seg POMS ER ERO pete St Se AA BN ei NRL ee IRN SCF i PRMD CAAA YER Na MAB) AE) IMO RR 9h Shr ARH AMEN | He - Ly SLL RATE AE eo ESR NN NS cha care RA I Sa dS A NN gs Ltn HISTORY. 127 yoncur in the truth of the remark; for he himself adduces, among other characters, one which must represent a magician. Now among the heathen nations of the primitive age, the one personage was certainly identical with the other, as even among the Cainites was very probably the case. Ry tt the connor of several of those simple characters, which generally serves to denote the more abstract ideas, seems often, or at least. originally, not to have been regulated by any profound principle of symbolism, but to have arisen merely out of the vulgar perceptions or impressions of every-day life. For in- stance, the character denoting happiness is composed of two signs, of which one represents an open mouth, and the other iu gitait full of rice, or rice by itself. Here we sce no allusion is made to any very lofty or chimerical idea of happiness, or to any mystic or spiritual conception of the same subject; but, as this written-character well evinces, the Chinese notion of happiness is simply represented by a mouth filled and saturated with good rice. Another example of nearly the same kind is given by Remusat with something of shyness and reserve ;— the character designating woman, when doubled, — signifies strife and contention, and Site tripied, immoral anal disorderly conduct. [low widely removed are all these coarse and trivial combinations of ideas from an exquisite sense—-a deep sym- bolism of Nature—from those spiritual emblems in the Egyp- tian hieroplyphics, so far as they have been deciphered ; although these emblems may have been, and were in fact applied to the purpose of alphabetic usage. In the hierogly- phics there e is, besides the bare literal meaning, a high symbo- lical inspiration, like a soul of life—hike the breathing of a high in-dwelling spirit—a deeply felt significancy —a lofty and beau- tiful design apparent through the dead character dencting any par veniee name or fact.* But independently of this boundless chaos of written-charac- ters, the Chinese undoubtedly possess a system of scientific By aitalg and symbolical signs, which constitute the purport of the most ancient of their sacred books— the I— King—which signifies the book of unity, or, as others explain it, the hookeat * There are some exceptions to the truth of these remarks respecting Chinese symbols. For instance, the idea of “ dispersion” is expressed in the Chinese writing by the sign of @ tower. What a beautiful and , rofound allusion te the great events of primitive history. —-Frans, eee sours sepals ae iy Tata tle 128 PHILOSOPHY oF chanyes; and either name will agree with the meaning of those symbols which, when rightly understood, and conceived in the spirit of early antiquity, will appear to be of a very ra- markable and scientific nature. There are oaly two primary ficures or lines, from which proceed originally the four symbols and the eight koua or combinations representing nature, which form the basis of the high Chinese philosophy. ‘These first two primary principles are a straight, unbroken line, and a line broken or divided into two. If these first simple elements are doubled ; namely—two straight lines put under each other like our arithmetical sign of equation, and two broken or divided lines also put together, the different lines are formed. Accord- ing as one broken line occupies the upper or the lower place, there are two possible variations—when put together, there are four possible variations ; and these constitute the four symbols. But if three lines of these two kinds, the straight and the broken, are united or placed under each other, so, according to the number of the upper, middle, or lower place of either species of line, there are eight possible combinations, and these are the eight koua, which, together with the four symbols, refer to the natural elements, and to the primary principles of all things, and serve as the symbolical expression, or scientific designation, of these. What is now the real sense and the proper signification of those scientific primary lines among the Chinese, which exert an influence over the whole of their ancient literature, and upon which they themselves have written an incredible number of learned commentaries? Leibnitz supposed them to contain a reference to the modern algebraical discoveries, and especially to the binary calculation. Other writers, especially among the English, drawing their observations more from real life, remark, on the other hand, that this ancient system of mystical lines serves at present the purpose of a sort of oracular play of questions, like the turning up of cards among Europeans, and is converted to many superstitious uses, especially for making pretended discoveries in alchymy, to which the Chinese are very much addicted. But this is only an abuse of modern times, which no longer understand this primitive system of symbolical signs and lines. The high antiquity of these lines, and of the eight koua can be the less a matter of doubt as even mytholojy has ascribed them to the primitive Patriarch STRAT PEELE tt Rie PERE (RGM 8h: OTT REM EERO ARS TOLL TROLL TBE TNR PN IE TL: EE TED Sy EER ALT MiSTORY. . 129 of the Chinese—Fohi, who is represented as having espied these lines on the back of a tortoise, and having thence deduced the written characters, which many of thie learned Chinese wish to derive from these eight koua or combinations of the first symbolical lines. But the French scholar, whom I have more than once had occasion to name, and who is well able to form a competent opinion on the subject, is most decidedly opposed to this Chinese derivation of all the written characters from the eight koua; and it would appear, indeed, that the latter differ totally from the common system of Oliiese writing, and must be looked upon as of a distinct scientific nature. Perhaps we may find a natural explanation of the true, and not very hidden sense of these signs, by comparing the fundamental doctrines in the elder Greek philosophy and science of nature. Thus, in the writings of Plato, mention is often made of the one and of the sabe or of unity and duality, as the original elements of nature and first principles of all existence. "By this is meant the doctrine of the first opposition, and of the many oppositions derived from the first ; and also of the possible, and conceivable, or required adjustment and compromise between the two, and of the re- storation of the first unity and eternal equality anterior to all opposition, and which terminates and absorbs in itself all discord. Thus these eight koua, and mathematical signs or symbolical lines of ancient China, would comprise nothing more than a dry outline of all dynamical speculation Pad science. And it is therefore quite consistent that the old sacred book which contains these principles of Chinese science should be termed cither the book of unity, or the book of changes ; for doubtless this title refers to the doctrine of an aGctities unity, as the fundamental principle of all things, and to the doctrine of differences, or oppositions or changes springing out of that first unity. This doctrine of an opposition in all things—in thought as in nature —will become more apparent Fi we reflect on the new and brilliant discoveries in natural philosophy. For as in this science, the oxygen and hydrogen parts in the chemistry of metals, or the positive and negative end of electrical phe- nomena, in the attracting and repelling pole of magnetism, reveal such an opposition and dynamic play of living” powers in nature; so in this philosophy of China, the abstract K 130 PHILOSOPHY OF doctrine of this opposition and dynamical change of existence seems to be laid down with a sort of mathematical generality, as the basis of al] future science. In our higher natural philosophy, indeed, all this has been proved from facts and experience ; and, besides this, dynamic life forms but the one element, and the one branch of the science to be acquired ; and a philosophy founded entirely on this dynamical law of existence, without any regard to the other and higher principle of internal experience and moral life, intellectual intuition and divine revelation, would be at best a very partial system, and by nomeans of general application ; or if a general application of such a system were made, it must lead to endless mistakes, errors, and contradictions. ‘That such a system of dynamical speculation and science, if extended to objects where it cannot be corroborated by facts—to all things divine and human, real, possible, or impossible, will undoubtedly lead to such a chaotic confusion of ideas ; we have had a memorable experience in the German “ Philosophy of Nature ” of the last generation ;* a philosophy which consisted in a fanciful play of thought with Polarities, and oppositions, and points of indifference between them, but which has been long appreciated in its true worth and real nature, and consigned to its proper limits. Thus this outline of. the old Chinese symbols of thought, which have a purely metaphysical import, would lay before us the most recent errur clothed in the most antique form—but the Chinese system is in itself very remarkable and important. The fundamental text of the old sacred book on this doctrine of unity and oppositions, and which may now be easily compre- Headed: runs thus, according to Remusat’s literal translation : “ The great first Principle has engendered or produced two equations and differences, or primary rules of existence; but the two primary rules or two oppositions, namely Yn and Yang, or repose and motion (the affirmative and negative as we might otherwise call them) have produced four signs or symbols ; and the four symbols have produced the eight koua, or further * The author alludes to Schelling’s philosophy, which is called some- times the * Philosophy of Nature,” and sometimes the “ Philosophy of Identity.” M. Cuvier, in his masterly introduction to his great work on Fossile Remains, mentions some of the extravagant theories broached in the department of geology alone by those German naturalists, who some years ago attempted to apply to natural philosuphy, the metaphy- sical system of Schellinit—TZ7ans. : dest RN ESTED WIRD SITS EL AR SE SN MEAL AN TIS i TR NI a te Ran ven aS RTI as St REE aA ee SOT NS A Reset OO LL RIN ES EME EYES UTS TRE NE RN ON TE AR SR a foes RS Stet i1S'TORY. 131 combinaiions.” These eight koua are kien or ether, kui or pure water, li or pure fire, tchin or thunder, siun, the wind kan, common water, ken, a mountain, and kuen, the earth. On this ancient basis of Chinese philosophy, proceeding from indifference to differences, was afterwards founded the rationalist system of Lao-tseu, whose name occurs somewhat earlier than that of Confucius. The Taosse, or disciples of Reason, as the followers of this philosopher entitle themselves, have very much degenerated, and have become a complete atheistical sect ; though the guilt of this must be attributed, not to the founder, but to his disciples only. It 1s, however, acknowledged that the atheistical principles of this dead science of reason, have been very widely diffused throughout the Chinese empire, and for a certain period were almost generally prevalent. As it is necessary to keep in view a certain chronological order, in our investigations of the progressive development of Chinese intellect, | may here observe that, as far as European research has been able to ascertain, we may distinguish three principal and successive epochs in the history both of the reli- gion and science of China. The first epoch is that of sacred tradition, and of the old constitution of the Chinese empire, and discioses those primitive views, and that primitive system of ethies, on which the empire was founded. The second, which we may fix about six centuries before our era, is the period of : scientitic philosophy, that pursued two opposite paths of inquiry ; Confucius applied his attention entirely to the more practical study of ethics, with which, indeed, the old cznstitution, history, and sacred traditions of the Chimese were very intimately con- nected ; and the pure morality of Confucius. ae was the first branch of Chinese philosophy known in Isurope, excited to a high degree the enthusiasm of many European scholars, who, 4 by their too exclusive admiration, were prevented from formin # a right estimate of the general character of Chinese philosophy. , Another system of philosophy, purely speculative and widel different from the practical and ethical doctrine of Confucius, was the system of Lao-tseu and his school, whence issued the above-mentioned rationalist sect of 'l'aosse that has at last fallen into atheism. As to the question whether Lao-tseu travelled into the remote West, or in case he came only as faras Westeru Asia, whether he derived his system from the Persian or Egyp- tian doctrines or mediately from the Greek philosophy—this Kk 2 r] RE ahh 2 Ae TE 6M PR ER eer et ARE ep PINS tee «EM TT ZIT, ERR EP RCI a HR bi Rae SIGE RPA Rai Teta Si ns ig ahs a Re serie od eaten Pr SSS % Ng iat Aa RO a RE 132 PHILOSOPHY OF question I shall-not here stop to discuss ; for the matter is very doubtful in itself, and, were it even proved, still all the doctrines borrowed from the West were invested in a form purely Chi nese, and clothed in quite a native garb. Those signs in the I—King, we have already spoken of, evidently comprise the germ of such an absolute, negative, and consequently atheistic rationalism—a mechanical play of idle abstractions. The third epoch in the progress of Chinese opinions is formed by the in- troduction of the Indian religion of Buddha or of Fo. The great revolution which had previously oceurred in the old doc- trines and manners of China, and the ruling spirit of that false and absolute rationalism, had already paved the way for the | foreign religion of Buddha, which of all the Pagan imitations of truth, occupies the lowest grade. The old sacred traditions of the Chinese are not so overlaid nor disfigured with fictions, as those of most other Asiatic na- tions; those of the Indians, for example, and of the early nations of Pagan Europe; but their traditions breathe the purer spirit of genuine history. Hence the poetry of the Chinese is not. mythological, like that of other nations ; but is either lyrical (as in the Shi—King, a book of sacred songs, composed or compiled by Confucius) ; or is entirely confined to the repre- sentation of real life, and of the social relations (as in the modern tales and novels, several of which have been translate into the European languages). - 3 The old traditions of the Chinese have many traits of a kindred character with, or at least of a strong resemblance to, the Mosaic revelation, and even to the sacred traditions of the nations of Western Asia, particularly the Persians ; and in these traditions we find much that either corroborates the testimony of Holy Writ, or at least affords matter for further comparison. We have before mentioned the very peculiar manner in which the Chinese speak of the great. Flood, and how their first progenitors struggled against the savage waters, and how this task was afterwards neglected by bad or impro- vident rulers, who, in consequence of this neglect, were brought to ruin. I will cite but one instance, where the parallel is indeed remarkable. In the I—King, mention is made of the fallen dragon, or of the spirit of the dragon that, for his presumption in wishing to astend to heaven, was precipitated into the 8 | i é ' FIFE RL PRET SY I TOG IES KETTLE EP AN OE RE eR PEEPLES LE RT ht CACORE, A EE RUNG ASES SESAME ae Serie nia es RS OAT ATS LOR LS ON BN Ein ior 8 os Ra Poet kai a FETS LITE RI OT URLS TOs ARR SPREE RM Meee Ree yr tae HISTORY. 133 abyss ; and the words in which this event is described are precisely the same, or at least very similar, to those which our - Scriptures apply to the rebel angel, and the Persian books te Ahriman. However this dragon is whimsically, we might almost say, artlessly, made the sacred symbol of the Chinese empire and emperor. The paternal power of the latter is understood in a much too absolute sense: not only is the emperor styled the lord of heaven and earth, and even the son of God; but his’ will is revered as the will of God, or rather completely identified with it ; and even the most deter- mined eulogists of the Chinese constitution and manners cannot deny that the monarch is almost the object of a real worship. Christianity teaches shat all power is from God ; but it does not thereby declare that all power is one and the same with God. I’ven a dominion over nature and her powers is ascribed to the Emperor of China, as the illustrious lord of heaven and earth. Moreover, no hereditary nobility, no classes separated by distinctions of birth, exist in this country, as in India, The emperor, half identified with the Deity, had alone the privilege in ancient times of offering on the sacred heights the great sacrifice to God. Some European writers have, from this circumstance, conceived the Chinese constitution to be theoe cratic ; but if it be so, it is only in its outward form, or original mould ; for it would be difficult to show in it any trace of a true, vital theocracy. All that pomp of sacred ceremony and religious titles so strangely abused, forms a striking contrast with real history, and with that long succession of profligate and unfortunate reigns and perpetual revolutions which fill most of the pages of the Chinese annals. We should err greatly were we to regard all these high imperial titles as the mere swell and exaggeration of Eastern phraseology. The Chinese speak of their celestial Empire of the Medium, as they call their country, in terms which no European writer would apply to a Christian state, and such.indeed as the Scriptures and religious authors use in reference only to the kingdom of God. ‘They cannot conceive it possible for the earth to contain two emperors at one and the same time, and own the sway of more than one such absolute lord and master. Hence they look on every solemn foreign embassy as a debt of homage; nor is this sentiment the idle effect of vanity, o1 134 PHILOSOPHY OF fancy—it is a firm and settled belief, perfectly coinciding with the whole system of their religious and political doctrines. This political idolatry of the state, which the Chinese ata with the emperor’s person, is a pagan error: all excess, exaggeration is sure to produce opposition and reaction, or a tendency thereto. Hence the pages of Chinese history present by the side of this high boasted ideal of absolute power, as a fearful concomitant, and fitting commentary, one continuous series of political revolutions and catastrophes. Neither the pure morality of those ancient books revered by the Chinese as sacred, whatever be the morality of books in which the principle of rationalism is so exclusively predominant ; nor all the high > refinement of philosophic speculation in the scientific period of their history, have prevented this people from falling into the grossest of idolatries, and adopting a foreign superstition, which of all false religions is unquestionably the most repre- hensible. Some persons have sought to trace a certain re- semblance to Christianity in this religion of Fo, partly on account of some external institutions, and partly on account of the fundamental principle of the incarnation, equally | perverted and misapplied in this superstition, as in the rival mythology of Brahma, The enemies of Christianity, since the time of Voltaire, have not failed, at the name of Bonzis, to throw out many malicious’ epigrams against religion. The similarity here observed is not real, but is that caricature resemblance the ape bears to man, and which has led many naturalists into error; for the ape has with man no real affinity, no true internal sympathy in his organic conformation, but merely the likeness of a spiteful parody, such as we may suppose an evil spirit to have devised to mock the image of God—the masterpiece of creation; and indeed the frailties and corruption of degenerate men may well give occasion to such a parody. We may lay it down as a veneral principle that the greater the apparent resemblance which a false religion, utterly and fundamentally. different in its spiritual character and moral tendency, externally bears to the true, the more reprehensible will it be in itself, and the greater its hostility to the truth. An example near at hand will place the truth of this remark in the clearest light. If, for instance, Mahomet, instead of merely giving himself out as a prophet, had declared he was the sen of God, the eternal Word, the incarnate Deity, MEM AR RIO TR EER BARONY A ENR HARE ' . r PARTE STITT 8 PEN ERE TR SRR RPO RE RTS a SETI Re, FRE AO ORY RAINS OETA TY TT CTT YE ET ATE I A Tio LST LE ALOR EAE FY IIS FM ST EA RES RL I oe BEATER PFE AEE « Bins re 140 PHLLOS(C PHY OF religious parties, into which Alexander found the country divided, it can scarcely be doubted that the Buddhists at that period were far more numerous, and more extensively diffused throughout India, than they are at the present day, and this inference is even corroborated by many historical vouchers of the Indians themselves. Although the Buddhists are now but an obscure sect of dissenters in the Western Peninsula, they are still tolerably numerous in several of its provinces ; while, on the other hand, they have complete possession of the whole Eastern and Indo-Chinese peninsula. Besides this sect, there are many other religious dissenters even in Hindostan ; such for instance, as the sect of Jains, who steer a middle course between the followers of the old and established religion of Brahma, and the Buddhists ; for, like the latter, they reject the Indian division and system of castes. Even the established re- ligion itself is divided into three parties, which, though they do not form precisely separate sects, still are marked by no incon- siderable differences in their opinions, views, and conduct : ac- cording as each of these parties acknowledges the supremacy, or renders a nearly exclusive’ worship to one or other of the three principal Hindoo divinities, Brahma, Vishnoo, and Siva. And, although in the empire of the great Mogul, the number of the Mahometan conquerors, and of those that accompanied them into India, was very small, compared with the mass of the native population, yet, after the total destruction of this empire, there still remain several millions of Mahometans in the country, Even the Persian language, or a corrupt dialect of it, which these conquerors introduced, is still in many places in use as the language of ordinary life, trade, and business ; in the same way as the Portuguese in the maritime and commercial cities of India, or the Lingua Franca in our Eastern factories, serves as the usual and convenient medium of communication. The Indian is not the only, or exclusively prevailing, lan- guage in the whole peninsula ; in several provinces, as fur in- stance, on the southern coast, and in the Isle of Ceylon, quite a different language prevails; and the old cultivated and classical speech of India is there unknown. The name of Sanscrit, by which the latter is designated, denotes a cultivated or highly-wrought language ; but the Pracrit, which is em- ployed together or alternately with the Sanserit in the theatri- eat pieces of the Indians, signifies a natural and artless speech, FE SSE LUGS. SL VG LOND CASS ES SCs i : é z ee a psa —————————— fc iapanueiint conetial ATE PAG AR SEEN, E EOL ELD AT IT NC LL NTSBSSG ; HISTORY. 14] and is not so much a distinct dialect as a softer pronunciation of the Sanscrit, which smoothes, suppresses, or melts down the hard and crowded consonants, and pays Jess regard to the more elaborate grammatical forms. of this language. The Pracrit, which is used in dramatic pieces, particularly in the female parts, stands, from its more simple grammar, in the same relation to the Sanscrit as the softer Italian or Portuguese does to the old Latin, without however the same heterogeneous alloy. But, independently of these variations in the later and_ beautiful language of Indian poetry, the language of that country is split and divided into a number of dissimilar and widely dis- similar dialects, such as the Malabar, for example; and almost in every province the common language undergoes a variety of changes; and this 1s the case even in Bengal. ‘The country of the Upper Ganges, especially Benares, is renowned for being the chief seat of the Sanserit tongue,—the place, at least, where it 1s best understood, and spoken with the greatest purity. Those languages which differ totally from the Indian, belong in part to quite a different race of men, mostly, perhaps to the Malays: for, so far is India from being entirely peopled by one single race of inhabitants, that we find in several of its pro- vinces tribes of an origin totally different from that of the Hin- doos. This great variety in the whole life, manners, and poli- tical institutions of the Indians, forms a striking’ contrast with the absolute unity, and internal uniformity of the Chinese Em- pire. It was perhaps thus variety in the moral and political aspect of ancient India, that gave rise to the denomination which it has reeeived in the old sacred Median books of Zo- roaster, where, in the first fargard, or section of the Vendidat, it is described as the fifteenth pure region of the earth, created by Ormuzd, and designated by the name of Hapte [eando— a name which signifies the seven Indias. As India is still split into a multitude of sects and religions, and divided into dif- ferent tribes, speaking various languages; so, as Herodotus long ago observed, it has for the most part been ever composed of a multitude of great and petty states, although from its natural boundarics it might easily have been formed into one great pee and really constitutes but one country in its geo- graphical circumscription. The historian of India would have principally to speak of the successes of a Jong series of foreign conquerors, who, from 142 PHILOSOPHY OF Alexander the Great to Nadir Shah, have invaded this country by the north-west side from Persia. The Greeks were indeed told that, before Alexander the Great, no foreign conqueror had ever invaded India; and even after this invasion, and on the death of Sandracottus, when the Indians were liberated from the transient dominion of the Greeks, they were for a long lapse of ages governed by native princes; and their country was parcelled out into a number of great and petty kingdoms, such as those of Magadha, Ayodha, &e. It 1s a striking incident in the moral and intellectual history of the Hindoos, that amid all the revolutions under their ancient and native rulers, and amid all the later vicissitudes of foreign conquest, their peculiar modes of life and their institution of castes should have been pre- served, and, despite of all the changes of time and of empire, should have stood unchanged, like the one surviving monument of the primitive world. In the administration and government of this country, the absolute monarchical sway which exists in China, and the unlimited despotism of other Oriental countries, could never be realised; for that hereditary division of classes, and those hereditary rights belonging to each, which, as they form a part of the Indian constitution, have taken such deep root in the soil; and which, as they rest on the immoveable basis of ancient faith, have become, as it were, the second nature of this people—all these present an unassailable rampart, which not even a foreign conqueror could ever succeed in over- throwing. We can hence understand what led the Greeks to believe and assert that there were republican states in India. If from prepossessions, which were natural to that people, they asserted too much, or thought they saw more than a nearer in- vestigation proves to be actually the case; still their assertion is not totally without foundation, for the Indian system of castes ig in many respects more favourable to institutions of a republican nature, or at least republican tendency, than the con- stitution of any other Asiatic state. When those modern writers, therefore, who were the declared enemies of all hereditary rank and hereditary rights, spoke with contempt and abhorrence cf the Indian constitution of castes, represented it as the peculiar pasis of despotism, and even applied the name of caste as a party-word to the social relations of Kurope; their assertions were false, and utterly opposed to history. The invectives of these writers may be easily accounted: for, from their very LET AI TE LOI LEE TE LOR SS LTA RIG BRA. 3: SPR pA Re 0 pa SE gf ESR Sa TRL Se een RS INR FE: Bat? Nicer) 7a oa iy we ee ARIE OE ORG LITE LL SI LE IIIT IN: ARTIS TAPP TAH aA Ry LAIR RIS SOUS SSE ISSR iT ii ci SL LEA RO RI SIE NET MT NN I SAEED SAORI. BITE TS LEN TT HISTORY. 143 democratic views, or rather from their doctrine of absolute equality, as this equality itself is ever the attendant of despotism, produces it, or proceeds from it, and is one of its most distine- tive characteristics. In confirmation of what we have said, we may observe, that even at the present day most of the cities of India possess municipal institutions, which are much admired by English writers, who attest from their persouai experience and observation, their calutary influence on individual and public prosperity. In general the English have paid very great at- tention to the jurisprudence and civil legislation of India; as the fundamental principle of their Indian government is to rule that country according to its own laws, customs, and privileges; while, on the contrary, the other European powers that once had obtained a firm footing in India, formed alliances with, and attached themselves by preference to, the Mahometan sove-~ reigns of the country. By this simple but enlightened prin- ciple in their Indian policy and administration, the English have obtained the ascendency over all their rivals or opponents, and have become complete masters of the whole of this splen- did region. The scholars of Europe began their Indian researches by the study and translation of the laws and jurisprudence of the Hin- doos, the text as well as commentaries, and it was only at a later period they extended their inquiries to, other subjects, The Indian jurisprudence is undoubtedly a standing proof and monu- ment of the comparatively high and very ancient moral and intellectual refinement of that people; and a more minute and profound investigation of that jurisprudence would no doubt give rise to many interesting points of comparison, and to many striking analogies, partly with the old Athenian, or first Roman laws, partly with the Mosaic legislation, and even in some par- | ticular points with the Germanic constitution. As the caste of warriors in India, who constitute the class of landed proprietors, and the aristocracy of the country, are founded on exactly the same principle as the hereditary nobility of Germany, it cannot excite surprise, if we find in India, not indeed the elaborate and complex feudality of the (jermans, but a more simple system of fiefs. : 3 But, according to the plan we have proposed to ourselves, in the pa, of all ancient, and especially of the primitive Asiatic nations, the matter of greatest moment must be to trace thes 44 PHILOSOPHY OF intellectual progress, their scientific labours, and predominant opinions ; all those views of divine and human things, that have a mighty influence on life; and, fiually,the peculiar religious feelings and principles of each of those ancient nations. In the second part of this work, when we shall have to speak of the progress of mankind in modern times, we may perhaps change our point of view, and find it of more importance to trace the mu- tual relations between the external state of society and the in- ternal development of intellect. But in that remote antiquity, which is contiguous to the primitive ages, the points of greatest moment, as we have already observed, are the intellectual cha- racter, the modes of thinking, and the religion of those nations. On the other hand, their civil legislation, and even their political constitutions, however important, interesting, and instructive the closer investigation of those subjects may be in other re- spects, can occupy in this history but a secondary place ; and it will suffice for our purpose to point out some leading points of legislation that serve as the foundation and principle of the moral and intellectual character of those nations. In India this leading point is the institution of castes, the most remarkable feature in all Indian life, and which in its essential traits existed in Egypt. This singular phenomenon of Indian life has even some points of connexion with a capital article of their creed, the doctrine of the transmigration of souls—a doctrine which will be later the subject of our inquiries, and which we shall en- deavour to place in a nearer and clearer light. In showing the influence of the institution of castes on the state of manners in India, I may observe, in the first place, that in this division of the social ranks there is no distinct class of s/aves (as was indeed long ago remarked by the Grecks); that is to say, no such class of bought slaves—no men, the property and merchandise of their fellow-men—as existed in ancient Greece and Rome, as exist even at this day among Mahometan nations; and, as in the case of the negrces, are still to be found in the colonial posses- sions of the Christian and European states. The labouring class of the Sudras is undoubtedly not admitted to the high privileges of the first classes, and is in a state of great depen- dance upon these ; but this very caste of Sudras has its heredi- tary and clearly defined rights. It is only by acrime that a man in India can lose his caste, and the rights annexed to it. These rights are acanired by birth; except in the instance ot 2 DE TTT EARNER TEI CN eter ee eR TESS, “NO LR AITO pcp acl RELI Eo te a Ae NN i lola, nies me nectar RENNER att ani a> OR tin ne AI OA LIS Seciiininadin a udieasadihin ailien eis ioeaeeiial e wed at wat (Caen ae Tale RR SNE BSR AERP A ROR eng EER MTN, ug Set ote ds ce ae aut dss msteenh s Re en enn Le eur ake > HISTORY. 149 and interpret the Vedas, while the other castes can read only with their sanction such passages of those sacred writings as are adapted to their circumstances, and the fourth caste are entirely prohibited from hearing any portion of them. The Brahmins are also the lawyers and physicians of India, and hence the Greeks did not designate them erroneously, when they termed them the caste of philosophers. We have already had occasion to observe that the Mosaic narrative,—that first monument of all history, (which a very intellectual German writer has called the primitive document of the human race, and which it indeed is even in a mere histo- rical sense, and in the literal acceptation of the word)—that the Mosaic narrative, we say, ascribes to the Cainites the origin. of hereditary arts and trades. And there are two which are par- ticularly worthy of remark, and to which I drew your attention —the knowledge of metals, and the art of music. I used the general expression, the knowledgo of metals, because in the primitive ages of the world, the art of working mines, or of ex- ploring and extracting metals from the earth, was essentially connected with the art of preparing and polishing them; and this knowledge of metals was very instrumental in forwarding the infant civilisation of the primitive world, as the art of working and polishing: them has ever contributed to the refine- ment of mankind. By the music of the Cainites, I said we were not to understand our own more elaborate and sublime system of melody. ‘This art was chiefly consecrated, in those ancient times, to the uses of divine service; still older, per-. haps, was the medicinal, or rather the magical, use and in- fluence of music. ‘This is at least indicated by the tradition and mythology of all nations; and such a supposition is quite conformable to the spirit of those early ages; and I] would here remind you that, in the primitive symbolical writing of the Chinese, the sign of a magician represents also a priest -—a character which, as Remusat has observed, is not to be found in the narrow circle of their symbols. I added, that the existence of an hereditary caste of warriors among: the Cainites was possible, and even probable; though not so, in my opinion, the existence of an hereditary sacerdo-: tal caste. But though such an institution did not emanate from the Cainites, it may at least have been occasioned by them. As I said before, the Mosaic history represents the vast. 150 PHILOSOPHY OF boundless, prodigious corruption of the world in the age imme- diately preceding the deluge, as produced solely by the union of the better and godly portion of mankind with the lawless descemlants of Cain. ‘Thns this would suppose a certain dread and apprehension of any alliance and intercourse with a race laden with malediction, and pregnant with calamity. And may not this very circumstance have given rise to the establish- ment of a distinctly separate and hereditary class, not of priests in the later signification of that word, but of men chosen and zonsecrated by God, and entirely devoted to his service ? and, consequently, is it not among the later Sethites, we must look for the origin of this institution ? 7 We should transport ourselves in imagination to the age of the patriarchs, and then consider that, with the high powers which they still possessed, they must lave watched with the most jealous and far-sighted solicitude over the fate of their posterity, in order to preserve them in their original purity and high hereditary dignity. The Indian traditions acknowledge and revere the succession of the first ancestors of mankind, or the holy patriarchs of the primitive world, under the name of the seven great J?ishis, or sages of hoary autiquity; though they invest their history with a cloud of fictions. ‘They place all these patriarchs in the primitive world, and assign them to the race of Brahmins ;—a circumstance which cannot here appear un- fitting. It has been often observed that the Indians have no regular histories, no works of real historical science ; and the reason is that with them the sense of the primitive world is still fresh and lively, and that not only do they clothe their ideas in a poctical garb, but all their conceptions of human affairs and events are exclusively mythological ; so that all the real events of later historical times are absorbed in the element of mythology; or at least strongly tinged with its colours. It is in the same way, the panegyrists of the Chinese language remark that the almost total absence of grammar in that language, among a _ people of such highly cultivated intellect, should not be taker mérely to denote the poverty and jejuneness of the infancy of speech, as this in a great measure originated in the fact that the profound primitive emotions, which gave birth to those first languages, were too absorbed in the subject of their contem- plation, too much bent on giving utterance to the most effec- tive word, or expressing themselves with the most condensed PLES SONS OL EH me PASE aa I ee - HISTORY. 151 brevity, to perplex or trouble themselves with nicer distinctions, and minor and often superfluous rules. The providential care of these first patriarchs fur the pre- servation and prosperity of their offspring and race is evinced in those patriarchal scenes described not only in the Sagas of other primitive nations, but also in the sacred writings of the’ Hebrews; and where the hoary grandsire imparts and transmits to his sons and grandsons, the power of his benediction, which was not a mere empty formof words, asthe special inheritance of each. We sce, too, that, afterassigning the first rank to the eldest son, or to some favourite child, perhaps, originally chosen and pre- ferred by God, the venerable patriarch utters some words of warning which the sueceeding history but too well justifies ; or darkly indicates a deep presentiment of some great impend- ing calamity. But there is, in particular, a passage relative to the first great progenitor of mankind which deserves to be here noticed. When the calamitous epoch of the first fraternal con- _ test, and the first fatal fratricide had elapsed, it is said in Holy Writ: “ Adam begat a son in his own likeness, after his image, and called his name Seth.” The first thing that must strike us in this passage is the great and humiliating inferiority which it involves. Adam was created after the likeness of Almighty God; but Seth is begotten after the likeness of Adam. Yet there is no doubt that, from the peculiar style and manner of Toly Writ, a very high pre-eminence was here conferred on Seth. For in the same way as we have seen that the patri- urchs were wont to impart their blessings to their sons and their posterity, Adam granted and communicated to Seth, as to his first-born in this second commencement of the human race, and as his inheritance and exclusive birthright, all those preroga- tives and high gifts and powers, which he himself had ee! | received from his Creator, and which, on his reconciliation wit his God, he had once more obtained. Nothing similar is said of the other sons and daughters afterwards begotten by Adam, and through whom other nations have derived their descent from the common parent. This circumstance confirms and explains that high pre-eminence which, according to sacred tradition, was conferred on the race of Seth. As to the high powers which the father of mankind had preserved after his fall, or had a second time received, we may well suppose that, after the crime and flight of Cain, he would endeavour to retrieve on ii Ak as est PTT ey Tee PN aR he Ae RNR egy FP Rept ey Na tl pr 152 -PHILOSOPHY oF his errors by the establishment of the better race of Seth, and by a consequent renovation of humanity. This is not a mere arbitrary supposition, for it is expressly said in Holy Writ that the first man, ordained to be “ the father of the whole earth,” (as he is there called) became on his reconciliation with his Maker, the wisest of all men, and, according to tradition, the greatest of prophets, who, in his far-reaching ken, foresaw the destinies of all mankind, in all successive ages down to the end | of the world. All this must be taken in a strict historical sense, for the moral interpretation we abandon to others. The pre- eminence of the Sethites, chosen by God, and entirely devoted to his service, must be received as an undoubted historical fact, to which we find many pointed allusions even in the traditions of the other Asiatic nations. Nay,the hostility between the Sethites and Cainites, and the mutual relations of these two races, form the chief clue to the history of the primitive world, and even of many particular nations of antiquity. That, after the violent but transient interruption occasioned by the deluge, the re- membrance of many things might revive, and the same or a similar hostility between the two races which had existed in the ante-diluvian world, might be a second time displayed, is a matter which it is unnecessary to examine any further. [qually needless would it be to show that, in the increasing degeneracy of man, every thing was soon more and more disfigured and de- ranged, and finally became for the most part undistinguishable, till it was afterwards a problem for the historical inquirer to reduce to the simple elements of their origin the greatest, most extraordinary, and most remarkable phenomena which still re- mained, or were remembered, of the primitive ages. If I think it not impossible that the Indian constitution of eastes, and its most important branch, the Brahminical class —that is to say, the moral and general conception of this an- cient institution, may be connected with the Scriptural history and the sacred tradition respecting the race of Seth; I must observe that to this hypothesis an objection can no more be taken from the present character and moral condition of the — Brahmins, than we can estimate the high gifts, the great men, and the mighty prophets, that the Almighty once accorded to the Jewish nation, or such noble natures as those of Moses and Elias, by the present fallen state of that dispersed people. These remarks may suffice to give an idea of the most SE TENNIS SR meee RNB ITY PROSE PTERURR UNO EA 8 PNT PREC TERESA TE Sean EEE TORE ex stem oe prone s rex SEE LI ET TES ae 3 Nt See COTE eo PERERA BOR) OR eK HISTORY. - 153 important feature in Indian society. Before I attempt to examine the second great characteristic of this people—the doctrine of the transmigration of souls, a principle which, if it has not produced, has at least given the peculiar bent to their whole philosophy , I wish to take a general view of polytheism, particularly as our notions of it, chiefly derived from the Greeks, are by no means perfectly applicable to the primitive nations of Asia... ; 7 We are wont to regard the Grecian mythology, and its many-coloured world of fables, only as the beautiful effusion of poetry, or a playful creation of fancy; and we never think of inquiring’ deeply or minutely into its details, or of examining its moral import and influence. It is the more natural that the mythology of the Grecks should produce this impression on our minds, and that we should regard it in this light, as all the higher ideasand severer doctrines on the God-head, its sovereign nature and infinite might, on the Eternal Wisdom and Providence that conducts and directs all things to their proper end, on the Infinite Mindand Supreme Intelligence that created all things, and that is raised far above external nature ; all these higher ideas and severer doctrines have been expounded more or less perfectly by Pythagoras, or by Anaxagoras and Socrates ; and have been developed inthe most beautiful and luminous manner by Plato and the philosophers that followed him. But all this did not pass into the popular religion of the Greeks, and i% remained for the most part a stranger to these exalted doc- trines ; and, though we find in this mythology many things capable of a deeper import and more spiritual signification, yet they appear but as rare vestiges of ancient truth—vague pre- sentiments—fugitive tones—momentary flashes, revealing a belief in a supreme Being, an almighty Creator of the universe, and the common Father of mankind. But it is far otherwise in the Indian mythology. There, amid a sensual idolatry of nature more passionate and enthu- siastic still than that of the Greeks, amid pagan fictions and conceptions far more gigantic than those of the latter, we find almost all the truths of natural theology, not indeed without a considerable admixture of error, expressed with the. utmost earnestness and dignity. We meet too, in this mythology, with the most rigidly scientific and metaphysical notions of the _ Supreme Being, his attributes and his relations; and it is the 1&4 PHILOSOPHY OF peculiar character of the Indian mythology to combine a gigantic wildness of fantasy, and a boundless enthusiasm for nature, with a deep mystical import, and a profound philosophic sense. Ifthe Pythagoreans had succeeded in the design, which they in all probability entertained, of rendering their lofty notions on the Deity and on man, on the immortality of the soul, and the invisible world, more generally prevalent, and of introducing these ideas into the popular religion ; as it was not their intention entirely to reject the vulgar creed, but only to mould it to their own principles, and impart to it a higher and . more spiritual sense (an attempt which was afterwards made by the New Platonists and the Emperor Julian, out of hatred to Christianity, though, as the time had then long gone by, their enterprise was attended with no permanent effects); if the Py- thagoreans, we say, had succeeded in their design, the Greek mythology. might then have borne some resemblance to the Indian, and we might have instituted a comparison between the two. In the Indian mythology this strange combination, this inconsistent junction of the sublimest truth with the most sensual error, of the wildest and most extravagant fiction with the most abstract metaphysics, and even the purest natural theology (if we may thus call the divine Revelation of the primitive world); this strange combination, we say, has not been the effect of artful interpolation, but the fruit of native growth and of earliest development. } We must now be on our guard not to admit too lightly or too quickly the corncidence of certain symbols and conc »ptions of mythology with truths and doctrines familiar to ourselves. How much, for instance, would a man err, who would suppose that there was any analogy in the Indian symbol and notion of Trimurti, or the divine Triad, I do not say with the Christian doctrine of the Trinity, but with the opinion of either of the Platonic schools on the triple essence or the triple Personality of the one God. In this symbol the heads of the three principal Hindoo divinities, Brahma, Vishnoo, and Siva, the Gods of creation, preservation, and destruction, are united in one figure, and this union undoubtedly indicates the primary energy common to all three. If we examine each in particuiar, we shall see that the attributes assigned to Brahma, and the expressions usually applied to his person, when divested of their poetical garb and mythic accompaniments, may often, almost aca ia kaa acl ile A ili oid aid wtisa sos ods aerataca, dnemeaame ecoeialinen scarggreenenmneneeteest ete eee nee ELE PELLETS MEF oD OES Coen Pane te nme of - 2 ls on cots ? peace aha : pe ie app BRS HISTORY. Loo literally, and in strict truth, be referred to the Deity. The all-pervading and self-transforming Vishnoo is much more the wonderful Prometheus of nature, than a real and well defined divinity. The third in this divine Triad, the formidable and destructive Siva, has but a very remote analogy with the Deity that judyes and chastises the world according to justice. This God of destruction, whose worshippers appear to have been formerly the most numerous in India, as those of Vishnoo are at the present day ; this God of destruction, with his serpeuts and bracelets of human skulls, appears evidently to be that demon of corruption who brought death into all creation, and who here, whimsically and inconsistently enough, has been introduced into the symbol, and made a part of the Deity itself, This union.or confusion of Eternal Perfection with the Evil Principle is made in another way by the Indian philoso- phers ; as some of them explain the doctrine of Trimurti, or the divine Triad, by reference to the Traigunyan, or the three qualities, hese three different regions, or degrees, into which, according to the Indian doctrine, all existence is divided, are the pure world of eternal truth or of light, the middle region of vain appearance and illusion, and the abyss of darkness. However, it must be observed. that the Indians do 10f express the pure and metaphysical idea of the Supreme Being by either of the names of the two last mentioned popular divinities; nor do they even denote this idea by the name of Brahma, the first person of their trinity, but by the word Brahm, a neuter noun, which signifies the Supreme Being. | As there were row two conflicting elements in the breast of man—the old inheritance or original dowry of truth, which God had imparted to him in the primitive revelation ; and error, or the foundation for error in his degraded sense and spirit now turned from God to nature—how easily must error have sprung up, when the precious gem of divine truth was no longer guarded with jealous care, nor preserved in its pristine purity; how much must truth have been obscured, as error advanced in all its formidable right, and in all its power of seduction; and how soon must not this have happened among a people, like the Indians, with whom imagination and a very deep, but still sensual, feeling for nature, were so predominant !—It was thus a wild enthusiasm, and a sensual idolatry of nature, generally PE TR, SRE ree ren Een Le my rer RRR ere REE Rem meen eme aePT eNO IE SimermaRe Renan sn i ? 156 _ PHILOSOPHY OF superseded the simple worship of Almighty Goa, ana set aside or disfigured the pure belief in the eternal uncreated Spirit. The great powers and elements of nature, and the vital principle of production and procreation through all generations, then the celestial spirits, or the heavenly host (to speak the language of antiquity), the luminous choir of stars, which the whole ancient world regarded not as mere globes of light or bodies of fire, but as animated substances ; next the Genii and tutelar spirits, and even the souls of the dead, received now divine worship ; and men, instead of honouring the Creator in these, and of regarding these in reference to their Creator, considered them as gods. Such is, when we have once supposed that man had turned away from God to nature,—such is the natural origin of polytheism, which in every nation assumed a different form according to the peculiar modes of life, and the prevailing principles of life, in each. Among the Indians this ruling principle of existence was the doctrine of the transmigration of souls, which appears indeed to be the most characteristic of all their opinions, and was by its influence on real life, by far the most important. We must in the first place remember, and keep well in our minds, that among those nations of primitive antiquity, the doctrine of the immortality of the soul was not a mere probable hypothesis, which, as with many moderns, needs laborious researches and diffuse argumentations in order to produce conviction on the mind. Nay, we can hardly give the name of faith to this pri- mitive conception; for it was a lively certainty, like the feeling of one’s own being, and of what is actually present; and this firm belief in a future existence exerted its influence on all sub- lunary affairs, and was often the motive of mightier deeds and enterprises than any mere earthly interest could inspire. I said above that the doctrine of the transmigration of souls was not unconnected with the Indian system of castes; for the most honourable appellation of a Brahmin is Tvija, that is to say, a second time born, orregenerated. On one hand this appellation refers to that spiritual renovation and second birth of a life of purity consecrated to God, as in this consists the true calling of a Brahmin, and the special purpose of his caste. On the other hand this term refers to the belief that the soul, after many transmigrations through various forms of animals, and vanous stages of natural existence, is permitted in certain cases, as a ¢ TERT OSES rere, EP ONE OO By SEN seis es Deeg fetaarags SRN ine ay Joeneun nan . EPR EET OTE. RUE PERRY REIS INI RINE Fem PrNCERIT TSeoR TRA om ARLE ag eh ME eed ce een ee ae : HISTORY. 157 peculiar recompense, when it has gone through: its prescribed cycle of migrations, to return to the world, and be born in the class of Brahmins. This doctrine of Git transmigration of souls through various bodies of animals or other forms of exist- ence, and even through more than one repetition of human life, (whether such migrations were intended as the punishment of souls for their viciousness and impiety, or as trials for their further purification and amendment)—this doctrine which has always been, and is still so prevalent in India, was held likewise by the ancient Egyptians. This accordance in the faith of these two ancient nations, established beyond all doubt by his- torical testimony, 1s ante remarkable; and even in the mie nutest particulars on the course of migration allotted to souls, and on the stated periods and cycles of that migration, the coincidence is often perfectly exact. How strangely now is this most singular error mixed up, Ido not say with truth, but with a feeling that is certainly closely akin to PBN truth! When an individual of our age, out of disgust with modern and well-known systems, or with the vulgar doctrines, and from a love of paradox, adopted this ancient hypothesis of the transmigration of souls; he merely considered the bare transmutation of earthly forms.* But among those ancient nations this doctrine rested on a religious basis, and was connected with a sentiment purely religious. In this doc- trine there was a noble element of truth—the feeling that man, since he has gone astray, and wandered so far from his God, must necds exert many efforts, and undergo a long and painful pilgrimage, before he can rejoin the Source of all perfection ;— the firm conviction and positive certainty that nothing defec- tive, impure, or defiled with earthly stains can enter the pure region of perfect spirits, or be eternally united to God; and that thus, before it can attain to this blissful end, the Hrennt soul must pass through long trials and many purifications. It may now well be conceived, (and indeed the experience of this * Schlegel here alludes to the celebrated Lessing, who in his work entitled “The Education of the Human Race,” had maintained the doctrine of ‘the Metempsychosis, a doctrine doubly absurd in a Deist, like Lessing, for the metempsychosis was a philosophical, though false, explanation of the primitive and universal dogma of an intermediate or probationary state of souls.— Trans. 158 PHILOSOPHY OF life would prove it,) that suffering, which deeply pierces the soul, anguish that convulses all the members of existence, may contribute, or may even be necessary, to the deliverance of the soul from all alloy and pollution, as, to borrow a companson from natural objects, the generous metal is melted down in fire and purged from its dross. It is certainly true that the greater the degeneracy and the degradation of man, the nearer is his approximation to the brute; and when the transmigration of the immortal soul through the bodies of various animals is merely considered as the punishment of its former transgressions, we can very well understand the opinion which supposes that: man who, by his crimes and the abuse of his reason, had de- scended to the level of the brute, should at last be transformed into the brute itself. But what could have given rise to the opinion that the transmigration of souls through the bodies of beasts was the road or channel of amendment, was destined to draw the soul nearer to infinite perfection, and even to accom- plish its total union with the Supreme Being, from whom, in all appearance, it seemed calculated to remove it further? And as regards a return to the present state and existence of man, what thinking person would ever wish to return to a life divided and fluctuating as it is, between desire and disgust, wasted in internal and external strife, and which, though brightened by a few scattered rays of truth, is still encompassed with the dense clouds of error ;—even though this return to earthly existence should be accomplished in the Brahminical class so highly re- vered in India, or in the princely and royal race so highly favoured by fortune? There is in all this a strange mixture and confusion of the ideas of this world with those of the next; and how the latter is separated from the former by an impassable gulf, they seem not to have been sufficiently aware. Both these ancient nations, the Egyptians as well as the Indians, re- garded, with few exceptions, the Metempsychosis, not ag an object of joyful hope, but rather as a calamity impending over the soul; and whether they considered it to be a punishment for earthly transgressions, or a state of probation—a severe but preparatory trial of purification—they still looked on it as a calamity; which to avert or to mitigate they deemed no ttempt, no act, no exertion, no sacrifice ought to be spared. In the manner, however, in which these two nations con. SS cease premarin 1 HISTORY. 159 ceived this doctrine, there was a striking and fundamentas difference ; and if the leading tenet was the same among both, the views which each connected with it were very dissimilar. Deprived, as we are, of the old books and original writings of the Egyptians, we are unable perfectly to comprehend and seize their peculiar ideas on this subject, and state them with the same assurance as we can those of the Indians, whose ancient writings we now possess in such abundance, and which in all main points perfectly agree with the accounts of the ancient classics. But we are left to infer the ideas of the Egyptians on the Metempsy- chosis only from their singular treatiment of the dead, and the bodies of the deceased; from that sepulchral art (if I may use the expression) which with them acquired a dignity and import- ance, and was carried to a pitch of refinement, such as we find among no other people; from that careful and costly consecra- ~. tion of the corpse, which we still regard with wonder and asto- nishment in their mummies and other monuments. That all these solemn preparations, and the religious rites which accom- panied them, that the inscriptions on the tombs and mummies had. alla religious meaning and object, and were intimately con- nected with the doctrine of the transmigration of souls, can admit of no doubt ; though it is a matter of greater difficulty to ascertain with precision the peculiar ideas they were meant to express. Did the Egyptians believe that the soul did wot separate immediately from the body which it had eeased to ani- mate, but only on the entire decay and putrefaction of the corpse? Or did they wish by their art of embalment to preserve the body from decay, in order to deliver the soul from the dreaded transmigration? The Egyptian treatment of the dead would certainly seem to imply a belief that, for some time at least after death, there existed a certain connexion between the soul and body. Yet we cannot adopt this supposition to an un- qualified extent, as it would be in contradiction with those sym- bolical representations that so frequently occur in Egyptian art, and in which the soul immediately after death is represented as summoned before the judgment-seat of God, severely accused by the hostile demon, but defended by the friendly and guar- dian spirit, who employs every resource to procure the deliver- ance and acquittal of the soul. Or did the Egyptians think that oy all these rites, as by so many magical expedients, they would 160 PHILOSOPHY OF keep off the malevolent fiend from the soul, and obtain for it the succour of good and friendly divinities? Now that the gates of hieroglyphic science have been at last opened, we may trust that a further progress in the science will disclose to us more satisfactory information on all these topics. The Indians, however, who ever remained total strangers to the mode of burial and treatment of the dead practised in Egypt, adopted a very different course to procure the deliverance of the human soul from transmigration :—they had recourse to phi- losophy—to the highest aspirings of thought towards God—to a total and lasting immersion of feeling in the unfathomable abyss of the divine essence. They have never doubted that by this means a perfect union with the Deity might be obtained even in this life, and that thus the soul, freed and emancipated from all mutation and migration through the various forms of animated nature in this world of illusion, might remain for ever united with its God. Such is the object to which all the dif- ferent systems of Indian philosophy tend—such is the term of all their inquiries. This philosophy contains a multitude of the sublimest reflections on the separation from all earthly things, and on the union with the God-head; and there is no high conception in this department of metaphysics, unknown to the Hindoos. But this absorption of all thought and all conscious- ness in God—this solitary enduring feeling of internal and eternal union with the Deity, they have carried to a pitch and extreme that may almost be called a moral and intellectual self-annihilation. This is the same philosophy, though in a different form, which in the history of European intellect and science, has received the denomination of mysticism. The pos- sible excesses—the perilous abyss in this philosophy, have been in general acknowledged, and even pointed out in particular cases, where erotism or pride has been detected under a secret disguise, or where this total abstraction of thought and feeling has spurned all limit, measure, and law. In general, however, the European mind, by its more temperate and harmonious constitution, by the greater variety of its attainments, and above all, by the purer and fuller light of revealed truth, has been preserved from those aberrations of mysticism which in India have been carried to such a fearful extent, not only iu speculation, but in real life and practice; and which, transe PRT a roi i ee . FE Re LPL TAI EME ELIE IRN EINES ET ITE TT LS TE TNR ys ee ee ce Sy eR a : 5 A oe a to ae ee ON os nas aS RTS NS UISTORY. 161 cending as they do all the limits of human nature, far exceed the bounds of possibility, or what men have in general consi- dered assuch, And the apparently incredible things the Greeks related more than two thousand years ago, respecting the re- cluses of India, or Gymnosophists, as they called those Yogis, are found to exist even at the present day; and ocular experience has fully corroborated the truth of their narratives, END OF LECTURE 1V. 162 PHILOSOPHY OF LECTURE V. A Comparative View of the Intellectual Character of the four principal Nations in the Primitive World—the Indians, the Chinese, the ~ Egyptians, and the Hebrews; next of the peculiar Spirit and political Relations of the Ancient Persians, As, after discord had broken out among mankind, humanity became split and divided into a multitude of nations, races, and languages, into hostile and conflicting tribes, castes rigidly separated, and classes variously divided; as, indeed, when once we suppose this original division and primitive opposition in the human race, it could not be otherwise from the very nature and even destiny of man; so in a psychological point of view, the moral unity of the individual man was broken, and his faculties of will and understanding became mutually op- posed, or followed contrary courses. The whole internal structure of human consciousness was deranged, and, in the present divided state of the human faculties, there is no longer the full play of the harmonious soul—of the once unbroken spirit—but its every faculty hath now but a limited, or, to speak more properly, one half of its proper power. The restoration of the full life and entire operation of the divided faculties of the human soul must be considered now aN as a splendid exception—the high gift of creative genius, and of a more than ordinary strength of character ; and such a reunion of faculties must be looked upon as the high problem which constitutes the ultimate object and ideal term of all the intellectual and moral exertions of man. When in an indi- vidual, a clear, comprehensive, penetrative understanding, that has mastered all sound science, is combined with a will not only firm, but pure and upright, such an individual has attained the great object of his existence; and when a whole generation, or mankind in general, present this harmonious concord between science on the one hand, and moral conduct and external life, or, to characterise them by ore word, the TOO ee pean T net were . PP NPT Ee PE TN ym * PON ran il TET HISTORY. | | 163° general will, on the other, which is often in utter hostility with science—we may then truly say that humanity has attained its destiny. The great error of ordinary philosophy, and the principal reason that has prevented it from accomplishing its ends, is the supposition it so hastily admits that the conscious- ness of man, now entirely changed, broken, and mutilated, is the same as it was originally, and as it was created and fashioned by its Maker; without observing that since the great primeval Revolution, man has not only been outwardly or historically disunited, but even imternally and psychologically deranged. The moral being of a man, a prey to internal dis- cord, may be said to be quartered, because the four primary faculties of the soul and mind of man—Understanding and Will, Reason and Imagination, stand in a twofold opposition one to the other, and are, if we may so speak, dispersed into the four regions of existence. Reason in man is the regulat- ing faculty of thought; and so far it occupies the first place in life, and the whole system and arrangement of life ; but it is unproductive in itself, and even in science it can pretend to no real fertility or immediate intuition, Imagination on the other hand is fertile and inventive indeed, but left to itself and without guidance, it is blind, and consequently subject to illusion. ‘The best will, devoid of discernment and understand: ing, can accomplish little good. Still less capable of good is a strong, and even the strongest understanding, when coupled with a wicked and corrupt character ; or should such an un- derstanding be associated with an unsteady and changeable will, the individual destitute of character, is entirely without influ- ence. To prove, moreover, how all the other faculties of the soul, or the mind, elsewhere enumerated, are but the connecting links—the subordinate branches* of those four primary facul- ties; how the general dismemberment of the human conscious- ness reaches even to them; how they diverge from one another, and appear still more split and narrowed; to prove this would lead me too far, and is the less necessary, as, in the peculiar character of particular ages or nations, the historical in- quiver can observe but those four primary faculties mentioned * The four secondary faculties of human consciousness are, according to our author, the memory, the conscience, the impulses or passions. and the outward senses.— Z7ans 164 PHILCSOPUY OF above, as the intellectual elements prevalent in each. As in the intellectual character of particular men, or in any given system of human thought, fiction, or science (and these can be better described and more closely analysed than the fleeting and transient phenomena of real life and the social relations); _as in eyery such individual production, I say, of human thought _and human action, either Reason will preponderate as a sys- tematic methodiser and a moral regulator, or a fertile, inventive Imagination will be displayed, or a clear, penctrative under- standing, or again a peculiar energy of will and strength of character will be observed ; so the same holds good in the great whole of universal history—in the moral and intellectual existence—the character, or the mind of particular ages or na- tions in the ancient world. This is apparent not only in the very various manner, in which sacred tradition—tne external word to man revealed—was conceived, developed, and disfigured among each of thos’ na- tions; but in the peculiar form and direction which the internal ) word in man—that is to say, his higher consciousness and in- tellectual life—assumed among eacit. Guach an intellectual op- position evidently exists between those two great primitive na- tions already characterised, that inhabit the extreme East and South of Asia—an opposition between reason and imagination. In regard to the intellectual and moral character of nations as well as of individuals, Reason is that human faculty which is conversant with grammatical construction, logical inferences, dia- lectic contests, systematic arrangement; and in practical life it serves a3 the divine regulator, in so far as it adheres to the higher order of God. But when it refuses to do this, and wishes to deduce all from itself and its own individuality, then it becomes an egotistical, over-refining, selfish, calculating, degenerate Reason, the inventress of all the arbitrary systems of science and morals, dividing and splitting every thing into sects and parties. Imagination must not: be considered as a mere faculty tor fiction, nor confined to the circle of art and poetry —it m- cludes a faculty for scientitic discoveries; nor did a mind desti- tute of all imagination ever make a great scientific discovery. There is even a higher, purely speculative faney, which finds its proper sphere in a mysticism, like the Indian, that has already been deseribed, Even if a mysticism, like that which consti- tutes the basis of the Indian philosophy, were entirely free from eT TET ETT ew ere: FEET mere er: & : herp SEEN LOUIE MT Re rere ema ry : ion PRY OPT RL eee CERNE ernenengeen i PRIN Ee RET Son em ee anne en spre aer reg STEN REY Se SRM IT iment serge geome gpa fi PREITY Bae HISTORY. — 165 all admixture of sensual feelings, and were entirely destitute of images, we should certainly not be right in refusing on that account to imagination its share in this peculiar intellectual phenomenon. That in the intellectual character of the Chinese, reason, and not imagination, was the predominant element, it would, after the sketch we have before given of that people, and which was drawn from the best and most recent sources and authorities, be seareely necessary to prove at any length— so clearly is that fact established. Originally, when the old system of Chinese manners was regulated by the pure worship of God, not disfigured, as among other nations, by manifold fictions, but breathing the better spimt of Confucius, it was undoubtedly in a sound, upright Reason, conformable to God, that the Chinese placed the foundation of their moral and poli- tical existence ; since they designated the Supreme Being by the name of Divine Reason, Although some modern writers in our time have, like the Chinese, applied the term divine reason to Almighty God; yet | cannot adopt this Chinese mode of speech, sinee, though according to the doctrine from which I start, and the truth of which has been all along presupposed, the living God is a spirit; yet it by no means follows thence that God is Reason, or Reason God. If we examine the expression closely, and in its scientific rigour, we can with as little propriety attr- bute to God the faculty of reason, as the faculty of the imagina- tion, The latter prevails in the poetical mythology of ancient paganism; the former, when the expression is really correct, designates rationalism or the modern idolatry of Reason; and to this, indeed, we may discern a certain tendency even in very early times, and particularly among the Chinese. Among the latter people, at a tolerably early period, a sound, just Reason, conformable and docile to divine revelation, was superseded by an egotistical, subtle, over-refining Reason, which split into hos- tile sects, and at last subverted the old edifice of sacred tradi- tion, to reconstruct it on a new revolutionary plan. Equally, and even still more strongly, apparent is the predo- minance of the imaginative faculty among the Indians, as is seen even in their science and in that peculiar tendency to mys- ticism which this faculty has imparted to the whole Indian ht losophy. The creative fulness of a bold poetical imagination is evinced by those gigantic works of architecture which may well sustain a comparison with the monuments of Egypt; by a 166 PHILOSUPHY OF voetry, which in the manifold richness of invention is not in- ferior to that of the Greeks, while it often approximates to the beauty of its forms; and, above all, by a mythology which, in its leading features, its profound import, and its general con- nexion, resembles the E¢yptian, while in its rich clothing of poetry, in its attractive and bewitching’ representations, it bears a strong similarity to that of the Greeks. This decided and peculiar character of the whole intellectual culture of the In- dians will not permit us to doubt which of the various faculties of the soul is there the ruling and preponderant element. A similar, and equally decided opposition in the intellectual character and predominant element of human consciousness is observed between the Hebrews and Egyptians; though this was an opposition of a different kind, and of a deeper import. To show this more clearly, I will take the liberty of interrupting for a moment the order [ have hitherto followed, of characterising each nation in regular succession, and with as much accuracy and fulness as possible; in order by a comparative view of the four principal nations of remote antiquity, to draw such a ge- neral sketch of the first period of universal history as may serve at once for a central point in our inquiries, and for the ground- work of subsequent remarks. Such a comparison will tend to facilitate our survey of the primitive ages of the world: and in this general combination of the whole, each part will appear in a clearer lieht. If I wished to characterise in one word the peculiar bearing and ruling element of the Egyptian mind—however unsatisfac- tory in other respects such general designations may be—I should say that the intellectual eminence of that people was in its scientific profundity—in an understanding that penetrated or sought to penetrate by magic into all the felt and myste- ries of nature, even into their most hidden abyss. So thoroughly scientific was the whole leaning and character of the Egyptian mind, that even the architecture of this people had an astrono- mical import, even far more than that of the other nations of early antiquity. I have already had occasion to speak of the deep and mysterious signification of their treatment of the dead. In all the natural sciences, in mathematics, astronomy, and even in medicine, they were the masters of the Greeks; and even the profoundest thinkers among the latter, the Pythagoreans, and afterwards the great Plato himself, derived from them the Steerer pet fe een oe sia tial ati tadashi ek siete ecintatn alana te een ateienemantamettaabae oa meee ~ ~ ree oo ETON ETRE OR eee ntermemem rerssemNneeme ne er eemeaeh ine iil caoltadiul ceaite ior ear ee ee — aS - oa EN Ey ay renig Se EE a a a Raed SEPT SRN TEENS ES ORE CRY ELIT OHI EET IT IME IY ae kage HISTORY, 16? first elements of their doctrines, or caught at least the first out- line of their mighty speculations. Here too, in the birth-place of hieroglyphics, was the chief seat of the Mysteries ; and Egypt has at all times been the native country of many true, as well as of many false secrets. These few remarks may here serve to characterise this people; we shall later have occasion to add _many minuter traits to complete this brief sketch of the Egyp- tian intellect. | | Very different was the character of the ancient Hebrews, who, in science as well as in art, can sustain no comparison with those other nations we have spoken of, and to whom we must apply a very different criterion of excellence. - The moral eminence of this people, or the part allotted to it in high histo-. rical destiny, lies rather in the sphere of will, and in a well-re- gulated conduct of the will, Moses himself was, undoubtedly, as it is said of him, “ versed in all the science of the Egyp- tians;” for he had received a completely Egyptian education, which, by the care of an Egyptian princess, was of the highest and politest kind, and consequently, as the customs of the coun- - try imply, extremely scientific. Even his name, according to the credible testimony of several ancient writers, was originally Egyptian, and afterwards Hebraised; for J/oyses,* as he is called in the Greek version of the Seventy, signifies in Egyp- tian, one saved out of the water, But the Hebrew people were far from possessing that Egyptian science of which Moses was so great a master; on the contrary, the Jewish legislator seemed to consider the greater part of that foreign science, in which he himself was so well versed, as of little service to his object ; and m many instances sought to withhold this know- ledge from his nation. Many of the Mosaic precepts, in- deed, especially such as have a reference to external life, to subsistence, diet, and health, and which are in part at least founded on reasons of climate, are entirely conformable to Egyptian usages, and are found to have been practised among that people; for these ancient lawgivers and founders of _ Asiatic states did not scruple to give even medical precepts in their codes of moral legislation, that embraced the minutest circumstances of life. But to these precepts and usages the Hebrew legislator has imparted in general a higher import and 4 Matons. PE Te NT ITT NTRS ete LET LT NTE TINE LT ET TENE TELE TIT, LIRR RR me RR 168 PHILOSOPHY OF a religious consecration. We must not suppose, however, that he has taken all his laws from this source, or make this a matter of reproach to the Jewish lawgiver, as many critics of our own times have done; for, to minds enslaved by the narrow spirit of the age, difficult, indeed, is it to transport themselves into that remote antiquity. It would be a great error, also, to suppose that all the science which Moses had acquired by his Egyptian education, he wished to conceal from his nation, and reserve for the secret use of himself and a few confidential friends. It is evident, if we regard the subject only in an historical point of view, that a higher and better element, completely foreign to the science of Egypt, animated and pervaded all the views and conduct of this great man, whether we consider him as the founder and lawgiver of the Hebrew state, or as the guide and instructor of the Hebrew people. In the forty years’ sojourn of Moses in the Arabian desert with Jethro, one of whose seven daughters he married, aud who has rightly been accounted an Kmir, or petty pastoral prince of Arabia, this higher principle silently grew up and expanded in the breast of this exalted man, until it at last burst forth in all the majesty of divine power. All that appeared to Moses truly sound and excellent in Egyptian customs and science, or serviceable to his purpose, he adopted and used with choice and circumspection. But all that was incompatible with his designs, and which he knew to be corrupt, he strenuously rejected, or he gave to it a totally different application, and established a higher principle in its room. In the same way he was not disconcerted by the secret arts of the Egyptian sorcerers, for it was no difficult matter for him to vanquish them in the presence of the king by the higher power of God. It is thus we should understand the conduct of Moses in reference to the science and modes of thinking of the Egyptians; and that conduct will be found not only perfectly irreproachable in a human point of view, but entitled to our warmest admiration. If for instance we suppose that Moses, the first and greatest writer in the Hebrew tongue,—the founder and legislator of that language also, was, if not the first that discovered, at least the first that fixed and rerulated, the Hebrew alphabet, we may easily conceive him to have taken the first ten, as well as the last twelve Hebrew letters from the Egyptian hieroglyphics; for, even at that early period, Ee ET oe eS RPA S ATs pee Aon TOT II 25 =2 Pa atibeirenrtenteerenia as diets Eco year ae Sancta pk cas ee SHE OATS ares PESTA SRE 2 eel SRR RAS? ate NE te ee RO SS te Se eae eae ieee AE HISTORY. 169 the hieroglyphics, while they retained their original symbolical meaning, had acquired an alphabetical use. ‘This supposition is at least extremely probable, for many of the Hebrew letters are found in precisely the same form in the hieroglyphical al- vhabet; though our knowledge of this alphabet is still so very imperfect, and though we have deciphered but perhaps a tenth part of all the various literal symbols which may there exist. But to continue our supposition, Moses did not wish to take from the Egyptian hieroglyphics more than the twenty-two literal signs; he neglected the other hieroglyphs and natural symbols, for he had no need of them. On the contrary, he studiously excluded all natural symbols from his religious system, and prohibited with inexorable severity the chosen people the use of images and all that was most remotely connected with such a service. Ie well foresaw that if he made the slightest conces- sion on this point, and permitted the least indulgence, or left the slightest opening to the passion for natural and symbolical representations, it would be impossible to set any restraint on this indulgence, and that the Hebrews when they had once swerved from the path marked out for them, would follow. the same course as the pagan nations. ‘The subsequent history of the Jewish nation sufliciontly proves how important and ne- cessary was that part of the Mosaic legislation which proscribed all that was connected with the religious use of images. But wherein consisted the peculiar bent of mind, the moral and in- tellectual character traced out to the Hebrews by their legislator and all their patriarchs? Completely opposed to the Egyptian science—to the Ngyptian understanding, that dived and pene- trated by magical power into the profoundest secrets and mysteries of nature, the ruling element of the Hebrew spirit was the will—a will that sought with sincerity, earnestness and ardour, its God and its Maker, far exalted above all nature, went after his light when perceived, and followed with faith, with re- signation, and with unshaken courage, his commands, and the slightest suggestions of his paternal guidance, whether through the stormy sea, or across the savage desert. I do not mean to assert that the whole nation of the Jews was thoroughly, con- stantly, and uniformly actuated and animated with such a pure spirit and such pure feelings—many pages of their history attest the contrary, and but too well manifest how often they were in contradiction with themselves. But this and this alone was the 170 TEER: PHILOSOPHY OF 3 fundamental principle, the first mighty impulse, the perinanent i course of conduct which Moses and the other leaders and chosen | | men among the Hebrews sought to trace out to their people—this \ was the abiding character, the great distinctive mark which they | had stamped upon their nation. This, too, was the distinguish- L ing character of all the primitive patriarchs, as represented in the sacred writings of the Old Testament. Independently of particular traits of national character, and the special destiny of nations, it is philosophically certain, or, if we may so speak, it is a truth grounded on psychological prin- ciples, that the will and not the understanding is in man the principal organ for the perception of divine truths. And by this, we understand a will that seeks out with all the earnestness of desire the light of truth, which is God, and when that light has appeared clear, or begins to appear clear, follows with fidelity its guidance, and listens to the internal voice of truth and all its high inspirations. I affirm that in man the under- standing is not the principal organ for the perception of divine [ truth—that is to say, the understanding alone. On the | understanding alone, indeed, the light may dawn and may even be received—but if the wiil be not there—if the will pursue a separate and eal course, that lyht of higher knowledge | is soon obscured, and soon becomes clouded and unsteady ; or, by if it should still gleam, it is changed into the lithic meteor of illusion. Without the co-operation of a good will, this light cannot be preserved or maintained in its purity ; nay, the will must make the first advances towards truth; it must lay the first basis for the higher science of divine truth, and religious knowledge. In other words, as the God whom we acknowledge and revere as the Supreme Being is a living God; so truth, which is God, is a living truth—it is only from life that it can be derived, by lire attained, and in life learned. In the present state of man’s existence, in this period of the world —a period of discord, of sunken power, of misery and delusion —a period, which, as the Indians designate our fourth and last epoch of the world by the name of Caliyug, is the period of predominant woe and misfortune; in this present life, the path marked out for man as leading to the knowledge of divine truth and to a higher life, is the path of patience, resignation, and perseverance in the struggl of life—a toilsome probation, cheered and supported by hope. Desire or love is the beginning RS aE TL LTE RE EE LE WIT ae ET sy DSER DEY c SeaEY . we Ba Ae AS ts re et FS SSS o> te oe we Sealatecinniaa et ad.-dactintn can haa ed alate et a POUT " . Some nee Sh fo PG RR RIE wR Ie eR et AS Se PR OWS ALD EN ARRAS NNER a SH AR MR" ee PN PRAM IN th RENO OMIT CT EIT DEST SLM VIS IOS 1 eae See Ee IGA een er 2 POTS Tay 4 NBS Se 2 HISTORY. yg or root of all higher science or divine knowledge ; perseverance in desire, in faith, and in the combat of life, forms the mid-way of our pilgrimage ; but the term of this pilgrimage is only a term of hope. ‘This necessary period of preparation, of slow and irksome preparation, and gradual progression, cannot be avoided or overleaped by the most heroic exertions of man. The supreme perfection and full contentment of the soul—the intimate union of the spirit with God—and God himself cannot be thus grasped, wrested, and held fast by a violent concen- tration of all our thoughts on a single point, by a species of arroyated omnipotence—the self-potency of obstinate and tenacious thought; as the Indian philosophy believes, and as the modern German philosophy* for some time seemed to believe, or at least attempted. The real character and even history of the Jewish people are frequently misunderstood, and ill appreciated ; because the men of our times, who in all their speculations, and whatever may be the nature of their opinions, incline ever more and more to the spirit of the absolute, are unable to seize and enter into the idea of that epoch of preparation and progressive advance- + ment which was as indispensable for the perfection of intellect and knowledge, as of moral life itself. The whole historical ex- istence and destiny of the Hebrews is confined within one of those great epochs of providential dispensation—-it marks but one stage in the wonderful march of humanity towards its divine goal. ‘The whole existence of this people turned on the pivot of hope, and the keystone of its moral life projected its far shadows into futurity. Herein consists the mighty difference between the sacred traditions of the Hebrews and those of the other ancient Asiatic nations. When we examine the primitive records and sacred books of these nations, who were so much nearer the fountain-head of primitive revelation than the later nations of the polished West ;—when we leave out of sight the moral precepts and ordinances of liturgy com- prised in these books, we shall find their historical view is turned back towards the glorious past, and that they breathe throughout a melancholy regret for all that man and the world 5 e . e e have since lost. And undoubtedly these primitive traditions * Schlegel here alludes to that sort of intuitive mysticism in matters of religion, which was the boast of the adhereuts of Scheliing’s philo- sophy.— Trans. 172 PHILOSOPHY OF contain many ancient and beautiful remintscences of primeval happiness, for even Nature herself was then far different from what she is at present, more pies more akin to the world of spirits, peopled and encompasse with celestial genii; and not only the small garden uf Eden, but all creation, enjoyed a state of Paradisaic innocence and happy infancy, ere strife had commenced in the world, and ere death was known. Out uf the multitude of these holy and affecting recollections, and out of the whole body of primitive traditions, Moses, by a wise law of economy, has retained but very little in the revelation, which was specially destined for the Hebrew people, and has communicated only what appeared to him absolutely and indis- pensably necessary for his nation, and for his particular designs, or rather the designs of God, in the conduct of that nation. But the little he has said—the significant brevity of the first pages of the Mosaic history, involves much profound truth for us in these later ages, and comprises very many solutions as to the great problems of primitive history, did we but know . how to extract the simple sense with lke simplicity. But every thing else, and in general the whole tenor of the Mosaic writings, like the existence of the Hebrew nation, was fornied for futurity—and to this were the views of the Jewish legis- lator almost exclusively directed. And as all the sacred writ- ings of the Old Testament, which, by this direction towards futurity, were even in their outward form so clearly distin- guishable from the sacred books and primitive records of other ancient nations ; as all these sacred writings, I say, from the first Jawgiver, who ina high spiritual sense, delivered from the Egyptian bondage of nature his people chosen for that especial object, down to the royal and prophetic Psalmist, and down to that last voice of warning and of promise that re- sounded in the desert, were both in their form and meaning eminently prophetic; so the whole Hebrew people may, in a lofty sense, be called prophetic, and have been really so in their historical existence and wonderful destiny. To these four nations, whom we have compared, in respect to the different shape and course which the primitive revelation and sacred tradition assumed among them, as well as in respect to the diversities in their intellectual development, the con- trarieties in the internal Word, and higher consciousness of each ; to these nations, in order to complete tne instructive ni el a NEN ESL mT I NSLS TRAE ETM BY ELS NR . Co ee Cn TTS e ey &: Mi te. ¥ SATA TERETE ae ene od HISTORY.. 173 parsilel, we may now add a fifth—the Persians; a people which in some points was similar, in others dissimilar to one or other of these nations, and which bearing a nearer affinity to some in its doctrines and views of life, or even in its language and turn of fancy, and more closely connected with others in the bonds of political intercourse, may be said to occupy a middle place among these nations. In ancient history, the Persians form the point of transition from the first to the second epoch of the world; and in this they hold the first place, in so far as they commenced the career of universal con- quest ; a passion which passed from them to the Grecks, and from these in a still fuller extent to the Romans, like some noxious humour—some deadly disease transmitted with aug- mented virulence through every age from generation to gene- ration ; and even in modern times, this hereditary malady in the human race has again broken out. But, considered in a spiritual point of view, and with re- gard to their reliyion and sacred traditions, the Persians must be classed with the four great nations of the primitive world, and can be compared with them only; for, in this respect, they so totally differed from the Phcenicians and Greeks, that no comparison can be instituted between them and the latter ; and no parallel, where the objects are so unlike, can be pro- ductive of any useful result. To the Indians they bore the strongest resemblance in their language, poetry, and poetic Sagas ; their conquests, which stretched far into the provinces of Central Asia, brought them in contact with the remote Eastern Asia, and the celestial Empire of the Chinese, so com- pletely sequestered from the western world ; with Egypt they were involved in political contests, till they finally subdued it —and in their religious doctrines and traditions, they more "nearly approximated to the Hebrews; or their views of God and religion were more akin to the Hebrew doctrines than those of any other nation. Of the King of Heaven, and the Father of eternal light, and of the pure world of light, of the eternal Word by which all things were created, of the seven mighty spirits that stand next to the throne of Light and Omnipotence, and of the glory of those heavenly hosts which encompass that throne ; next, of the origin of evil and of the Prince of darkness, the monarch of those rebellious spirits— the enemies of all good; they ina &reat measure entertained 174 PHILOSOPHY OF completely similar, or at least very kindred, tenets to those of the Hebrews. That with all these doctrines much may have been, or really was, combined, which the ancient Hebrews and even we would account erroneous, is very possible, and indeed may almost naturally be surmised ; but this by no means impairs that strong historical resemblance we here speak of, A cir-. cumstance well worthy of observation is the manner in which Cyrus and the Persians are represented in the historical books of the Old Testament, and are there so clearly distinguished from all other pagan nations. Among the latter they can with no propriety be numbered; nay, they felt towards the Egyptian idolatry as strong an abhorrence, and in political life manifested it more violently, than the Hebrews themselves. During their sway in Egypt, this idolatry was an object of their persecution, and under Cambyses, they pursued a regular plan for its utter extirpation. Even Xerxes in his expedition into Greece, destroyed many temples and erected fire-chapels in the whole course of his march ; for it cannot be questioned but religious views were principally instrumental in giving birth to the Persian conquests, at least to those of an earlier date. This is a circumstance which should not be overlooked, if we would rightly understand the whole course of these events, and penetrate into the true spirit and original design of these mighty movements in the world. From their fire-worship, we must not be led to accuse the ancient Persians of an absolute deification of the elements, and of a sensual idolatry of nature ; in their religion, which was so eminently spiritual, the earthly fire and the earthly sacrifice were but the signs and the em- blems of another devotion and of a higher power. Symbols and figurative representations were in general not so rigidly excluded from their religious system, as from that of the Hebrews. Yet, among the Persians, these had a totally differ- ent character from those in the Indian or Egyptian idolatry. The generous character of the ancient Persians, their life and their manners, which display such an exalted sense of nature, possess in themselves something peculiarly winning and capti- vating for the feelings. The leading result of the few observa- tions we have made may be comprised in the following genera! remarks :— If a poetical recollection of Paradise sufficed for the moral destiny of man—if the pure feeling, enthusiasm, and admira- hint eee anh ap ne pci hy enema emer net me tmee spemnaey a eee eee nares oy mer a3 ESE I EE Se LCP LIS RELI I BIE Sa er a a cee Teen eet emr To CO Pe ERTL RRL E TSE TPO DRT LET FI, TO TT TEE EE ° . . Pe LOOSE A Ee hie PES NSD cay ; ws Tea See DiS et Sine Rt oto ded Wistar and Nias ence Porat it aia AE re ae as Sess or x HISTORY. 175 tion for sideral nature were alone capable of revealing all the glory of the ce.astial abodes, and of the heavenly hosts, of open- ing to mental eyes the gates of eternal light—if this were the one thing necessary, and of the first necessity for man—if it were, or could be conformable to the will of God, that the eter- nal empire of pure light should be diffused over ne whole earth by the enthusiasm of martial glory, by the generous valour and heroic magnanimity of a chivalric nobility, such as the Persian undoubtedly was—then, indeed, would the Persians hold the pre-eminence, or be entitled to claim the first rank among those four nations that were nearest the source of the primitive revelation. But it was otherwise ordained; the path alone fit and salutary for man, and evidently marked out by the will of God, is the path of patience and perseverance—the unremitting struggle of slow preparation, Thus, as we may easily conceive, it was not the Persians, distinguished as that nation was by its noble character, and by its spiritual views of life; it was not the Egyptians, versed and initiated as s they were in all the mys- teries of nature and all the depths of science ;—but it was the politically insignificant, and, in an earthly point of view, the far less important, almost imperceptible, people of the Hebrews, that were chosen to be the medium of transition—the con- necting link between the primitive revelation and the full de- velopment of religion in modern times, and its last glorious expansion towards® the close of ages. T hey are now the car- riers, and, we may well say, the porters of the designs of Pro- vidence, hectares to bear the torch of primitive arettiors and sacred promise from the beginning to the consummation of the world:—while the once magnanimous nation of the Persians has sunk from that pure knowledge of truth, and those high spiritual notions of religion it once entertained, down to the anti-Christian superstition of Mahomet; and the profound people of Egypt has become totally extinct, and is not to be traced save in the small community of Coptic Christians, who have preserved a feeble remnant of the ancient language. Since now this general sketch of the various and contrary directions which the human mind followed in the first ages of history has been rendered more clear and definite by a compa- rative view of the five principal nations of the primitive world, it only remains for us to subjoin some important traits in the history of each, to complete this picture of the earliest nations; tn order to pass over, along with the Persians to the second 176 PHILOSOPHY OF period of the ancient world—a period which is so much nearer to us, and appears so much more clear and open to our apprehension. The origin of ancient heathenism we must seek among the Indians, and not among the Chinese, for the reason we have before alleged : namely, that in the primitive ages, the Chinese observed a pure, simple, and patriarchal worship of the Deity ; and it was only when under the first general and powerful emperor of China, the rationalism introduced by the sect of Taosse had brought about a complete revolution in the whole system of Chinese faith, manners, and customs, that a real form of paganism—the Indian superstition of Buddha—was subsequently introduced into that country. This subversion of the whole system of ancient government—of ancient doctrines —and of ihe among the Chinese was inseparably allied with the latter, the early system of writing, was a real revolution in the public inind. As the general burning of the sacred books, — and the persecution and execution of many of the learned, were measures directed solely against the school of Confucius, that adhered to the old system of morals and government, it is by no means an arbitrary and baseless hypothesis to ascribe to the antagonist party, the rationalist sect of Taosse, a great share in this violent moral and political revolution; inasmuch as the powerful Emperor Chi-ho-angti must have been quite in the interest of this party. Although the erection of the great wall of China, and the settlement .of a Chinese colony in Japan, gave external splendour to his reign; yet at home its despotic violence rendered it thoroughly revolutionary. And so this mighty catastrophe, which occurred two thousand years ago in the Chinese empire, widely removed as it is from us by the distance of space and time, and different as is the form under which it occurred, bears nevertheless no slight resemblance or analogy to much we hay seen and experienced in our own times. To explain the contradiction which seems involved in the fact, that on one hand we have commended that pure, simple, and patriarchal worship of the Deity by the Chinese in the ps period ; and much that denoted the compara- tively high state of civilisation among this people, together with a science perverted and degenerate indeed, yet carried te a high degree of refinement ; and that, on the other hand, we have pointed out many things in their primitive writing-system, whivh displayed a great rudeness and poverty of ideas, and a very confined circle of symbols, we may observe that it is with Son, eta eRe” a aed SLSR TAG eagi she oe SD. Se SDE EE oe et ee oer eee NRE PE ET IEE I ITI I g Ee ee 4 \ ete a ers, ERLE ee ae A me REE o are ie i HISTORY 177 China as with many other ancient civilised countries, where, in the background of a ruling and highly polished people, a close investigation will discover a race of primitive inhabitants more barbarous, or at least less advanced in intellectual refine- meut. Such a race is mentioned by historians as existing in different provinces of China under the name of Miao—they are precisely characterised as an earlier, less polished’ race of inhabitants, and they have indeed been preserved down to later times. The historical inquirer meets almost always in the first ages of the world with two strata of nations, consisting of an elder and a younger race ;—in the same way as the geologist in his investigation of the earth’s surface can clearly distinguish a twofold formation of mountains and separate periods in the formation of that surface. Thus, in China, the more polished new-comers and founders of the subsequent nation and state, accommodated themselves in many respects to the manners and customs, the language and even perhaps symbolical writing of these half savages, as the Europeans have partly done, when they have wished to civilise and instruct the Mexicans and other barbarous nations ; and as men must always act in similar cases, 1f they would wish success to crown their benevolent endeavours. All researches into the origin of the Chinese nation and Chinese civilisation ever conduct the inquirer to the north-west, where the province of Shensee is situated, and to the countries lying beyond. Thus this only serves to confirm the opinion, highly probable in itself, and supported by such manifold testimony, of the general derivation of all Asiatic. civilisation from the great central region of Western Asia. Agreeably to this opinion, the Indian traditions, as we have already mentioned, deduce the historical descent of Indian civilisation from the northern mountainous range of the Hima- laya and the country northwards ; and in support of this tradi-_ tion, we may cite the vast ruins, the immense subterraneous temples hewn out of the rock, in the neighbourhood of the old and celebrated city of Bamyan. Though the latter city be not in the proper India, but’ more northward towards Cabul, in _Hiadu Cutch, still its ruins present to the eye of the spectator the peculiar forms and structure of the architecture and colos- sal images of India, (whereof they contain a great abundance, ) such as are observed in the other great monumental edifices of the Indians at Ellore, in the centre of the southern province of N 178 | PHILOSOPHY OF Deccan, in the [sles of Salsette and Elephanta, in the neighs bourhood of Bombay, in the island of Ceylon, and near Mava- lipuram on the coast of Madras. All these immense temples, which have been hewn in the cavities of rocks, or have been cut out of the solid rock; and where often many temples are ranged above and beside the other, together with the buildings for the use of the Brahmins and the swarms of pilgrims, occu- pying in length and breadth the vast space of half a German mile, and even more ;—these temples form the regular places of Hindoo pilgrimage, whither immense muititudes of pilgrims flock from all the countries of India ; and an English writer, who wrote as an eye-witness, estimated the multitude at the al- most incredible number of two millions and a half. ‘Together with the colossal images of gods and of sacred animals, such as the elephant and the nandi, or the bull sacred to Siva, we find the rocky walls of these subterraneous temples adorned with an almost incalculable number of carved figures, representing various scenes from the Indian mythology. ‘These figures jut so pro- minently from the rock, that it would almost seem as if their backs alone joined the wall. The multitude of figures is ex- ceedingly great, and in the ruins near Bamyan, the number is computed at twelve thousand ; though this calculation may not perhaps be very accurate, for the thick forests which surround these now desolate ruins are often the repair of tigers and ser- pents, and thus all approach to them is attended with danger. Besides, in the ruins of Bamyan many of the figures, and even some of the colossal idols, have been destroyed by the Maho- metans, for whenever their armies chance to pass by these ruins, they never fail to point their cannon against the images of those fabulous divinities, which all Mahometans hold in so much _abhorrence. As to architecture, the perfection which this art attained among the Indians is evident from the beautiful workmanship and varied decoration of their columns, whole rows of which, like a forest of pillars, support the massy roof of upper rock. Notwithstanding the essential difference which must exist in the architecture of temples hewn out of rocks, or constructed in the cavities of rocks, we shall find that the prevailing ten- dency in Indian architecture is towards the pyramidal form. On the other hand, it is observed that the art of vaulting ap- pears to have heen less known, or, at least, not to have attained great perfection, er been ‘n frequent use. We find, too, among ee et oo a ie ST or RAE TITER OYE en HISTORY. 179 these monuments, vast walls constructed out of immense blocks | of stone, and rudely cut fragments of rock, not unlike the old Cyclopean structures. The amateurs of such subjects have acquired a more accurate knowledge of them by the splendid illustrations which the English have published; for a mere verbal description can with difhiculty convey a just notion of the nature and peculiar character of this architecture. Of the political history of India little can be said, for the Indians scarcely possess any regular history—any works to which we should give the denomination of historical; for their history is interwoven and almost confounded with mythology, and is to be found only in the old mythological works, especially in their two great national and epic poems, the Ramayan and the Mahabarat, and in the eighteen Puranas (the most sclect and classical of the popular and mythological legends of India), and, perhaps, in the traditionary history of particular dynasties and provinces ; and even the works we have mentioned are uot merely of a mytho-lstorical, but in a great measure of a theo- logical and philosophical purport. The more modern history of [lindostan, from the first Mahometan conquest at the com- mencement of the eleventh century of our era, can, indeed, be traced with pretty tolerable certainty; but as this portion of Indian history is unconnected with, and incapable of illustrating the true state and progress of the intellectual refinement of the Ilindoos, it is of no importance to our immediate object. The more ancient history of that country, particularly in the earlier period, is most fabulous, or, to characterise it by a softer, and at the same time, more correct name, a history purely mythic and traditionary ; and it would be no easy task to divest the real and authentic history of ancient India of the garb of my- thology and poetical tradition ; a task which, at least, has not yet been executed with adequate critical acumen. Chronology, too, shares the same fate with the sister science of history, for in the early period it is fabulous, and in the more modern, it is often not sufficiently precise and accurate. The number of years assigned to the first three epochs of the world must be considered as possessing an astronomical import, rather than as furnishing any criterion for an historical use. tis only the fourth and last period of the world—the age of progressive misery and all-prevailing woe, which the Indians term Caliyug, that we can in any way consider an historical Ww 2 ) 3 180 PHILOSOPHY OF epoch; and this, the duration of which is computed at four thousand years, began about a thousand years before the Chris- tian era. Of the progress and term of this period of the world, considered in reference to the history of mankind, the Indians entertain a very simple notion, They believe that the condi- tion of mankind will become, at first, much worse, but will be afterwards ameliorated. ‘lhe regular historical epoch, when the chronology of India begins to acquire greater certainty, and from Shieh indeed, it is ordinarily computed, is the age of King Vikramaditya, who reigned in the more civilised part of India, somewhat earlier than the Emperor Augustus in the west, perhaps about sixty years before our era. It was at the court of this monarch that flounshed nine of the most celebrated sages and poets of the second era of Indian literature ; and among these was Calidas, the author of the beautiful dramatic poem of “ Sacontala,” so generally known by the English and German translations. It was in the age of Vikramaditya that the later poetry and literature of India, of which Calidas was so bright an ornament. reached its _ full bloom. The elder Indian poetry, particularly the two great epic poems above mentioned, entirely belong to the early and more fabulous ages of the world; so far at least as the poets themselves are assigned to those ages, and figure in some degree as fabulous personages. We may, however, observe, that in the style of poetry, in art, and even, in the language itself, there reigns a very great difference between these primitive heroic poems, and the works of Calidas and other contemporary poets —the difference is at least as great as that which exists between Homer and Theocritus, or the other bucolick poets of Greece. The oldest of the two epic poems of the Indians, the Ramayana by the poet Valmiki, celebrates Rami, 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-rulin g@ monarchs and all- conquering: heroes ; still these traditicns 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 porss m obin thre lili, vane Aeteatimaee: me SE ITIL. AR PT RD TI oe uncer ARR Reha ES a, HISTORY. —» 181 other great epic of the Indians, the Maha-Barata, whose author, or at least compiler, was Vyasa, the founder of the Vedanta vhilosophy, the most esteemed, and most prevalent of all the philosophical systems of the Hindoos. ‘This leads us to observe a second remarkable, and singularly characteristic, fea- ture in Indian intellect and Indian literature, so widely remote from the relation between poetry and philosophy among other nations, purticularly the Greeks. This is the close con- nexion and almost entire fusion of poetry and philosophy among this people. Many of their more ancient philosophical works were composed in metre, though they possess productions of a later period, which display the highest logical subtilty and analysis. Their great old poems, whatever may be the beauty of the lan- guage, and the captivating interest of the narrative, are gene- zally imbued with, and pervaded by, the most profound philo- sophy; and among this people, even the history of metaphysics ascends as far back as the mythic ages. ‘This, at least, holds good of the authors, to whom the invention of the leading phi- losophical systems has been ascribed; although the subsequent commentaries belong to a much later and more historical period. Thus the Mahabarata contains as an episode a didactic poem, or philosophical dialogue between the fabulous’ personages and heroes of the epic, known in Europe by the naine of the Bhaga- vatgita, and which has recently been ably edited and expounded in Germany, by Augustus William Von Schlegel, and William Von Humboldt. The leading principles of the Ve- danta philosophy are copiously set forth in this poem, which may be regarded as a manual of Indian mysticism; for such is the ultimate object of all Indian philosophy; and of this peculiar propensity of the Hindoo mind we have already cited some re- markable traits. For the accomplishment of our more imme- diate object, and in order rightly to understand the true place which the intellectual culture of India occupies in primitive his- tory, a general knowledge of Indian philosophy is far more im- portant and necessary, than any minute analysis and criticism on the manifold beauties of the very rich poetry of that country ; and this philosophy we shall now endeavour to characterise ac- cording to its various systems, and in its main and essential features. | END OF LECTURE V. 182 PHILOSOPHY OF LECTURE VI. Of the Hindoo Philosophy—Dissertation on Languages—Of the peculiar political Constitution and Theocratic Government of the Hebrews— Of the Mosaic Genealogy of Nations. Tue Indian philosophy, from the place it holds in the primitive - intellectual history of Asia, and from the insight it gives us into the character and peculiar tendency of the human mind in that early period, possesses a high, almost higher, interest than that offered by the beautiful and captivating poetry of this ancient people. However, even the poetry of the Indians con- tains much that refers to, or bears the stamp of, that peculiar mystical philosophy which we haye more than once spoken of. We shall give a more correct and comprehensive idea of the Indian philosophy, if we observe, beforehand, that the six In- dian systems which are the most prevalent and the most cele- brated, and which, though in many points differing from the Vedas, are not to be regarded as entirely reprehensible or heterodox,—the six Indian systems, we say, must be classed in couples, and that the first of each pair treats of the beginning of sles subject discussed in the second, and the second contains the development and extension of the principles laid down in the first, or applies those principles to another and higher object of inquiry. 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 suthiciently 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. The first system, which seems to be one of the most ancient, bears the name of the Sanchy4 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 prin- gt ee nen oe OPT ITT PENT IIT en I Te HISTORY. 183 ciple laid down in the Chinese books of I—King, where we find the eight koua, or the symbolic primary lines of all existence. But the Sanchy& 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 un- derstanding, but general and even Infinite Intelligence; so that we may consider this system as a very partial philosophy uf Nature; and indeed it has been regarded by some Indian writers as atheistical—a censure in which the learned English- man, Mr. Colebrooke, (to whose extracts and notices we are in- debted 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 every thing 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 Perfection, to create the external world, and the possibility of such a creation. The Sanchya philosophy would be more properly designated in our modern philosophic phraseology as a system of complete dualism, where two substances are represented as co-existent— 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 illu- sion, 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 some- what 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 * The valuable articles by this great Sanscrit scholar on Hirdoo philosophy have excited a greater sensation in France and Germany, than in his own country. It. would be well if the Asiatic Sceiety were ’ to publish those articles in a separate form.—~ Zrans, : 184 PHILOSOPHY OF 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 crea- tion, and one which denies the existence of the sek 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 ac- curate 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 pro- fessed by the later sects of a dialectic rationalism. Valuable, undoubtedly, as are such extracts and communica- tions from the originals in a branch of human science still so little known, yet they will not alone suffice, and, without a cer- tain 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 exempli- fied by the second part of the Sanchy4 system (called the Yoga philosophy), where we find a totally different principle pro- claimed ; and while it utterly abandons the primary doctrine of a self-existent principle in nature laid down in the first part | of the philosophy, 1t 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 en- tirely concentrated on a single point—and by which, according to the belief of the Indians, miraculous power and super- natural knowledge are attained —are held up in the second part of the Sanchy4é system as the highest term of all mental exer- tion. The word Yoga signifies the complete union of all our thoughts and faculties with God—by which alone the soul can STONERS ARIAL sons 1 CRE LAA ROSS Ea 2 ESD aR ARR NE, eI SE c HISTORY. 185 be freed—that is, delivered from the unhappy lot of transmi- eration ; 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 immoveably 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, al- though it has been repeatedly attested by eye-witnesses, and is a well-ascertained historical fact; I will extract from the drama of Sacontala, by the poet Calidas, a description of a Yogi, remarkable for its vivid accuracy, or, to use the expres- sion 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. Mark :—his 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 ex- aggeration of a poet ; the accuracy of this description is con- firmed by the testimony of innumerable eye-witnesses, who recount the same fact, and in precisely similar colours. 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 column-stander ; and his con- duct is by no means held up by Christian writers as a model of imitation, but is regarded, at best, as an extraordinary excep- tion permitted on certain special grounds. In the Indian forests and deserts, and in the neighbourhood of those holy places of pilgrimage mentioned above, there are many hundreds of these hermits—these strange human phenomena of the ’ highest intellectual abstraction or delusion. Even the Greeks were acquainted with them, and, among so many other won- * We have transcribed Sir William Jones’s own words, as given in his translation of Sacontala— Trans, 186 PHILOSOPHY OF ders, make mention 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 roved. Now that men are better acquainted with the won- derful flexibility of human organisation, and with those mar- vellous powers which slumber concealed within it, they are less disposed to form light and hasty decisions on phenomena of this description. The whole is indeed a magical intellectual self-exaltation, accomplished by the energy of the will concen- trated on a single point ; and this concentration of the mind, when carried to this excess, may lead not merely to a figura- tive, but to a real intellectual self-annihilation, and to the dis- order of all thought, even of the brain. While on the one hand we must remain amazed at the strength of a will so tena- ciously 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 Nyaya system, whose founder was Gau- tama—a personage whom several of the earlier investigators of Indian literature, particularly Dr. Taylor, in his Translation — of the “Prabodha Chandrodaya” (page 116) have con- founded 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 Sanchya _ philo- sophy and Buddhism, than between the latter and the Nyaya system. This Nyay& 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 dialectie; 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 diffuseuess, or at least co Pre ee a a ee ee aha ea Rae de RY ST Ce TRIS EE ERS ge cht ae err ERE EEN COCO ET TIN Ne | ELS ELEY ETT OME TTT PDI SM ge Tm eee LIN Wie ee tL HISTORY. e187 piousnees, as the Greeks. Like the Indians, the learned En- glishman 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 phi- losophy, though it may furnish one more proof (if such be ne- cessary) 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. Cole- brooke remarks, however, that the fundamental tenets of this philosophy comprise, as indeed is evident, not merely a logic in the ordinary acceptation of the word, but the metaphysics of nll logical science. On this part of the subject, I could have wished that in the authentic extracts he has piven us from the Sanscrit originals, he had more distinctly educed the leading doctrines of the system, and thus furnished us with the 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 out of some perverted system of Hindoo philo- sophy; 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 evi- deutly 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 meta- physics, which we have before spoken of, may first be traced to the source of idealism; though in the progress of that philo- sophy, many errors have been associated with it—errors even which, 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 tho 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 undividual personality as absorbed in the God-head by the most SL SSA eet ean eth hte -eeenmwneennaapantperinaep a ~ he sat enemter aera rade renee ee 188 PHILOSOPHY OF 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 Mr. Colebrooke, impute to the second part of the Nyaya 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, recognised as generally conformable to religion, several others in direct opposition to the established doctrines on the Deity and on religion. Among these the Charvacda philosophy, which, according to Mr. Colebrooke, com- prises 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 favour and adhesion in the declining ages of Greece and Rome ;—doctrines which several moderns have re- vived 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 Mimansa, 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 Jeading principles, whereby independent reason is made to harmonise with the word of revelation conveyed by sacred tradition. The second or finished part of the system is called the Vedanta Pan eE ny 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 recognised, or at least tolerated, systems of philosophy, may have been purposel SENSE eet eee ove 7 en . AN Re ce eK: CRS EP ORRORRDINT RR AEE a eeaahie teeta a nasser ee eas Relate Fee ego a Netra ev a chcineke aNon co aia a REE PAS eager eT ~~ NSM IRR NrETEN AP RNenaeME at tem Rew a Bie whe ce se ane OT mR elena HISTORY. 189 thrown into the background, or when they clashed too rudely with the principles of the prevailing system, have been softened down by their partisans, and have thus come down 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 com- plete 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, meulcated by the ancient faith, is not wholly denied or rejected by this more modern system of philosophy; though on the whole it certainty 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 philosophy 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 im its present integu- - ment. But even the Vedas themselves inculcate the neces- sity of that sublime science which rises above nature, for the attainmeut of the full and final deliverance of the soul; as is exprossed in an old remarkable passage of the Vedas, thus 1S0 PILILOSOPHY OF literally translated by Mr. Colebrooke.* Man must recegnise 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 for ever united to God; an 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 eortaiale of very ancient origin, and may well have been derived from the mourning father of Taman 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 obliga- tion of marriage for the Brahmins, in order to insure the blessing of legitimate offspring, regarded as one of the highest 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 dutv, consoling as a mother in misfortune.” * See Colebrooke’s articles on the Vedas in the 8th volume of As’atie Researches. Sea ER a a or .. Ay ES SEE LES “eet PRs A HISTORY. _ 7 19] We should scarcely conceive it possible (and it certainly tends. to prove the original power, copiousness, and flexibility of tha 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, beau- tiful, and highly wrought poetry should have existed. The epic narrative of the old Indian poems bears a great resemblance to the Ilomerie poetry, in its inexhaustib'e 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 characterised 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 Adschylus, and of the Doric Pindar. In the tenderness of arnatory 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 rhyth- mical forms of its speech, it bears a greater resemblance to that of the ancients. Among the later 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. ‘The poetry of the Indians is not a little indebted to the genius of their beautiful language, which bears indubitable traces of the same generous and lofty poetical spirit; and it may be therefore necessary, in this general sketch of the primitive state of the human mind, to make a few obser- vations on this very remarkable language. In its grammatical structure the language of India is abso- lutely similar to the Greek and Latin, even to the minutest particulars. But the grammatical forms of the Sanscrit ate far richer and more varied than those of the Latin tongue, and more regular and systematic than those of the Greek. In its roots and words the Sanscrit has a very strong’ and remarkable affinity to the Persian and Germanic race of languages; an affinity which furnishes interesting disclosures, or gives occasion at least for instructive comparisons, on the progress of ideas among those ancient nations, and, as one and the same word is tometimes extended, sometimes contracted in its meaning’ of 192 ,; PHILOSOPHY VF applied to kindred objects—reveals the first natural impressions, or primary notions of life in those early ages. — To prove more clearly, by one or two examples, this affinity between the languages of nations so widely removed from one another, and almost separated by the distance of two quarters of the globe, and to show the important data which the discovery of such facts furnishes to history, I will mention, asa striking instance, that the German word mensch (man) perfectly agrees in root and signification with the Indian word manuschya, with this only difference, that in the Sanscrit the latter word has a regular root, and is derived from the word manu, which means spirit. Thus the word mensch (man) in its primitive root signifies a being endowed with spirit by way of pre-eminence above all earthly creatures. It is evident, too, from this, that the Latin word mens (mind) is of a cognate kind, and belongs to the same family of words; for, in these philological comparisons, the members of one radical word, scattered through different languages, serve when combined to illustrate each other. To cite an instance of a remarkable extension and contraction of meaning in one and the same word, we may remark that the same word which, in the German loch, signifies the space of a narrow aperture, and in the Latin docws, comprehends the ge- neral notion of space, as well as of a particular place, means the universe in the Sanserit lokas. ‘Thus the Sanscrit word trailokas, or trailokyan, signifies the three worlds or the triple world—the world of truth or eternal being, the world of illusion or vain appearance, and the world of darkness;—a division which constitutes one of the main points in the Indian philo- sophy, and is expressed by the two Sanscrit words ¢rai and lohkas, which are at the same time also Latin and German. I will adduce but one more example. As mostly the ancient nations of Asia, and likewise of Europe, were Jed by a certain uatural feeling and a not erroneous instinct, (totally independent of the nomenclature and classifications of our natural history,) to regard the bull, the most useful and important of all the animals which man has domesticated, as the representative of earthly fertility, and (as it were) the primary animal of the earth, and afterwards made that animal the emblem of all earthly existence and earthly energy; so it is extraordinary to see, (as Augustus William Schlegel has shown by an interesting comparison of the words which desienate either of these objects HISTORY. 193 in various languages of a kindred stem), it is extraordinary to see what mutual light and illustration they reflect cn each other. The Indian and Persian word, gaz, with which the the German huh, (cow) perfectly coincides, quite agrees with the Greek word for earth, in the old Doric form of ya: the Latin bos (ox) in its inflection bovis or bove, belongs to a whole family of Sanscrit words, such as bhau, bhuva, bhumi, which signify. the earth or earthly, or whatever is remotely connected therewith. So, originally, in this language one and the same word served to denote the earth and the bull. Comparisons of this sort, when not strained by etymological subtility, but founded on matter of fact and clear self-evident deductions, may. offer much curious illustration of the state of opinion, and the nature and connexion of ideas in the primitive and mythic ages, or may serve, at least, to give us aclearer and more lively insight into the secret operations of the human mind, and into the modes of thinking prevalent among ancient nations. And, besides the few instances here cited, we might adduce many hundred examples of a similar kind. Aslanguage in itself forms one of the corner-stones of man’s his- ‘tory (and that not the least important), as the different tongues spread in such amazing variety over the inhabited globe, are — essentially connected with universal history, and the his- tory of particular races ; 1t is necessary to say a few words on this subject, not that we would plunge deeper than is here expedient, into the vast and immense labyrinth of lan- guages; but in order to show the point of view whence the philosophic historian should take his survey, if he would gain a clear and comprehensive notion of this otherwise immeasurable chaos. Perhaps the shortest way for this would be to figure to oneself all the different dialects and modes of speech diffused over the habitable globe, under the general image of a pyramid of languages of three degrees, separated one from the other by a very simple principle of division. The broad basis of this pyramid would be formed by those languages whose roots and primitive words are mostly monosyllabic, and which either are entirely without a grammar, like the Chinese language, or at best display only the rude lineaments of a very simple and imperfect grammatical structure. The languages belongs ing to this class, are by far the most considerable in number. and tne most widely spread over the four quarters of the globe: o 194 PHILOSOPHY OF © and if, in a general philological investigation, we would wish to reduce these to any species of classification, we must adopt a geographical mode of arrangement, and designate them, for example, as the languages of Northern and Eastern Asia, of America, and of Africa. The Chinese must be con- sidered as the most important and remarkable language of this class, precisely because it best answers to the character of a monosyllabic speech totally destitute of grammar, and has | attained to as hich a degree of refinement and perfection as languages of this kind are susceptible of. This is the stage of infancy in language, as children’s first attempts at speech almost always incline to monosyllables—it is the cry of na- ture which breaks out in these simple sounds, or the infantine imitation of some natural sound. ‘This primitive character is still to be clearly traced in the Chinese ; although a very artificial mode of writing, and the high degree of refinement to which science has been carried, have given a mighty ex- tension, and a quite conventional character, to this infant language. For any parallels or analogies which may be drawn between the periods of natural life and the epochs of intellectual culture must never be understood in an exact and literal sense. | The next degree in this pyramid of speech is occupied by the noble languages of the second class, and this race of lan- guages, which are connected with each other by strong and manifold ties of affinity, are the Indo-Persic, the Graco- Latin, and the Gothico-Teutonic.* Here the roots are, for the most part at least, dyssyllabic; and these roots, which are by this means internally flexible, and become as it were, living and productive, afford room and occasion for a more varied yram- matical structure. The distinguishing character of these lan- guages is a very artificial grammar, which enters so com- ~ pletely into the primary formation of these languages, that the nearer we approach their original, the more regular and sys- tematic do we find their structure. In their progress these languages are characterised by a poetical fulness and variety in the forms of narration, and even by a rigid precision in scientific discussions. a These are usually termed the Indo-Germanic race of languages.— 7ans, ee ee ee ae and principle ofall existence, WiSTORY. 195 The third and last class are the Semitic lan,uages, as they are styled—the Hebrew and the Arabic, which, together with their kindred dialects, form the summit or apex of this pyra- mid. In these languages the ruling principle is that all the roots must be tri- -syllabie, for each Be the three letters, of which the root is regularly composed, counts for a syllable, and is articulated as such. Whatever exeeptions from this rule exist, must be treated as exceptions only. It cannot well be rane that this principle of tri-syllabic roots is purposely wrought into the whole internal structure of these languages, and perhaps not without some deep TEU erste presen- tient feeling implied by that triplicity of roots.* In these languages the verb is the first principle of derivation—the root from which every thing is deduced; and hence a cer- tain rapidity, fire, and vivacity in the expression. But with such formal regularity the rich, full, elaborate grammatical forms and structure which distinpuish the languages of thie Indo-Greek race, are not at all compatible; these tri-syllabie tongues have a certain tendency to monotony, and do not cer- tainly possess that poetical variety, and that flexible adaptation to scientific purposes, which characterise the second class of languages. The general characteristic of the. Semitic tongues is their peculiar fitness for prophetic inspiration and for pro- found symbolical import-—this is their special character. We speak here of the language itself, and of its internal structure, and not of the spirit hich may direct it; and I shall only add that the character we have here assigned to the Semitic lan- guages is, according to the declaration of many of the most competent judges, more uniformly perceptible in the Arabic than in the Hebrew, although the former has received a totally different application, and has under gone avery diversified cul- ture. Thus the Hebrew tongue was eminently adapted to the high spiritual destination of the Hebrew people, and was a fit organ of the prophetic revelation and promises imparted to that nation; and, even in this respect, this Semitic language is worthy of being considered the summit of the pyramid of human speech. But it never can be regarded as the basis of that pyramid, nor the root whence all other tongues have * Schlegel here supposes that the triplicity of roots in the Semitic languages contains a mystic allusion to the Tri-une Godhead, the root 02 196 , PHILOSOPHY OF sprung, as many scholars in former tlines conceived—an opinion which would seem tacitly to imply that \dam could have spoken no other language in Paradise but the Hebrew. But this language of the first man created by God—this lan- guage which God himself had taught him—this word of nature which the Deity imparted to man, together with the dominion over all other creatures, and over the whole visible world, may have been neither the Hebrew nor the Indian, nor any of the other known or existing languages of the earth, Possibly it was not a speech which we could learn or understand, or which, according to the present scheme of language, we can even con- ceive or imagine In the same way no one is capable of proy- ing or discovering the geographical site of the one lost source in Paradise, whence those four rivers took their rise, which are in part to be still traced on the earth. As to the Hebrew lan- guage, I think that a deeper inquiry would show that it is not so fur removed from the Indo-Greek family; and that it is even partially related to it, although this affinity may be at first very much concealed by the great difference of structure, and by the total diversity of grammatical forms. In general, we inust not endeavour to enforce, with too rigid uniformity and too systematic precision, the division of languages here marked out. It suffices to adhere to one general point of survey; but in other respects so luxuriant, so various, so irregular, has been the growth of the human mind in the region of languages, that it may be compared to the expansive life of free, uncultivated nature, _ to the wild variety of the thick-grown forest, or of the flowery meadow. To the second order of languages of the Indo-Greek race, probably belongs the great Selavonian family of languages, which, after the others, would form the fourth member in this elass; but a definite and decisive judgment on this matter, | must leave to those philologists who are perfectly conversant with this branch of human speech. Between the second and third class of languages, there are a multitude of intermediate tongues which have sprung up out of that intermixture of races and nations, occurring at all periods of history, and necessarily affecting, more or less, language itself. allude particularly tu such languages as are not perfectly monosyllabic, and which have, nevertheless, a very simple and imperfect, or even a yerv irregular, strange, and awkward grammatical structure. Such, HISTORY. 197 for instance, are so:ne of the American languages, which, in this respect at least, cannot be ranked in the third class, while the do not bear a closer, or at all close, affinity to those of the se- cond. Most of the fragments of the earlier languages of Europe, which are still extant, belong to this intermediate class of tongues partaking of both those species, or at least holding a middle place between them. Such are the Celtic or Gielic lan- guages, the Finnish and other ancient remnants of language, which must not escape the study of the philologist, whose judg- ment is too frequently warped by some patriotic partiality or some learned predilection. - The noble languages of the second class have, from a remote antiquity, become indigenous to Kurope, and are there now ge- nerally prevalent. ‘The other fragments of speech which are to be found on our continent by the side of these, either bear to them a remote affinity like the various Celtic or Gelic dialects, or lead the inquirer to the great Asiatic, perhaps even to the African, family of tongues; for we could hardly expect to find a native race of languages peculiar to this small quarter of the globe, which holds the lowest place in point of historical antiquity. From the historical connexion between the north of Africa and the southern coasts of western Europe, espe- cially the Hesperian Peninsula (a connexion which has subsisted from the remotest ages, and has been renewed so frequently, and in such various forms), one might be induced to suppose that the existence of this intercourse would have been attested by an afiinity between the languages of the two countries. But the ablest scholars and critics cannot trace in the Basque tongue any affinity with the primitive African family, though they can discover in it an analogy with the Scythian race of Finnish languages. The A/agiar language, at the other eastern extremity of Kurope, is most decidedly an Asiatic tongue, be- longing to that class which prevails in the central regions of Asia; but in its grammatical structure it bears some ana- logy to the languages of the second class. If, in conclusion, I might be allowed to hazard a conjecture, I should say that no- thing would more materially contribute to a comprehensive . knowledge of the whole system of human language, as well as to a deeper insight into its internal principles and structure, thar the success of the now rising school of Egyptian philolo- gists, who, in deciphering the hieroglyphics by the aid of the 198 ! PHILOSOPHY OF Coptic, endeavour to give us a more accurate knowledge, or at least a more minute conception, of the old Egyptian tongue. And if we would venture the attempt of approximating nearer to the primitive speech (the lost or extinct source of all lan- guages), we must start from four different quarters, and thread our way, not only through the Sanscrit and Hebrew languages, but through the primitive Chinese and the old Egyptian, as far as we can trace the latter. How extremely alike ancient Egypt and India were to each other, not only in their pelitical institutions, but in their system of idolatry, in their fundamental doctrines of belief, and in their general views of life, we have had ample opportunity of satisfying’ ourselves in the present age, when both these coun- tries eee been more accurately surveyed, and more closely in- vestigated. In a remarkable expedition which occurred in our own times, this strong religious sympathy was strikingly dis- played in a spontaneous and instantaneous burst of feeling. When, in the course of the French war in Egypt, an Indian army in British pay there landed, and, ascending up the country, came before the old monuments of Upper Egypt, the soldiers prostrated themselves on the earth, believing they had once more found the Deitics of their native land. Great, how- ever, as the resemblance between the two nations may be, they are still characterised by perceptible differences. On the one hand the Egyptian mind, so far as it has been delineated by the Greeks, appears to have been more deeply conversant and initiated in natural science: and on the other hand, the Egyptian idolatry was of a more decided cast, and was even more material in its fundamental errors than the Indian. The worship of animals, especially, was far more general, and was not confined to the god Apis, who may be compared to the Nandi, the bull sacred to Siva, but branched out into a variety of other forms In the progress of idolatry it needs came to pass that what was originally revered only as the sym- bol of a higher principle was gradually confounded or identified with that object, and worshipped, till this error in worship led to a more degraded form of idolatry ; for it should be remem- bered that as error is not merely the absence of truth, but a false.and counterfeit imitation of the truth, it has, like the latter, a principle of permanent growth and internal development. Several writers,;who ‘na general review of all heathen religions, * HISTORY. | 199 have attempted to classify them after the manner of naturalists, assign the lowest place to the Fetish worship (so called), which they rank immediately below the worship of animals. They make the essence of the Fetish worship to consist in the divine adora- tion of a lifeless corporeal object ; while they place on higher de- grees, in this scale of pagan error, the sensual nature- -worship —the apotheosis of particular men—and the adoration of the elements, the stars, and the different powers of nature. How- ever just and correct this view of the subject may otherwise be, it should be remembered that the question agitated is not only what were the objects of divine worship, but what were the views, intentions, and doctrines connected with that worship. For it is in these moral views we must look, either for the half- effaced vestive of ancient truth, or for the ‘full enor mity—the profound aby ss of error. When we come to examine more closely the accounts of that Fetish worship (so called) which is most widely diffused through the interior of Africa, and prevails among some American tribes, and nations of the north-east of Asia; it is easy to perceive, that magical rites are connected — with it, and that all these corporeal objects are but magical in- struments and conductors of magical power ; and that the reli- gion of these nations, sunk undoubtedly to the lowest grade of idolatry, comprises nothing’ beyond the rude beginnings of a pagan magic, such as, inall probability, was practised by the Caines according to historical indications mentioned in an earlier part of this work. That the Egyptian mind had a cer-. tain leaning towards magic, though towards a magic of a very different, more comprehensive, and even more profound and scientific nature, cannot be called in question; for all the Hebrew, Greek, and native vouchers and Ma ehorties are una- nimous in the assertion. But if the different religions of paganism must be classed according to their outward rites and outward ob bjects of wor- ship, the diversity of sacrifices would constitute a far better and more important standard of classification. We are taught that a difference in the mode of sacrifice was the principal cause of the dispute between the first two hostile brothers among men. Although, if we were to judge from first impressions, and ae: cording to human feelings, no sacrifice is so filial, so simple, sc appropriate, as that of the first fruits of the earth in returning ere ersten 5 200 PHILOSOPHY OF spring (such, for instance, as the flower-offering of the pious Brahmins, or a similar oblation of thanksgiving among the ancient Persians and other nations); still, on account of their deeper import and typical character, the pre-eminence has ever been allotted to animal-sacrifices; and these among the most civilised nations of pagan antiquity have ever held the foremost place. Of this kind is the great sacrifice of the horse* in India, where, in ancient times, the bull was offered in sacrifice, till the destruction of the latter animal was severely prolubited, and came to be considered as a grievous crime. But there was ever a symbolical meaning attached to this sort of sacrifice, + and the victim, selected as it was out of the purest and noblest species of domestic animals that surround man (such as the bull, the horse, or the lamb), was looked upon only as the repre- sentative of another, and the emblem of a far higher victim. It is an error to consider ancient paganism as nothing more than mere poetry or agreeable fiction. The rites of the ancient polytheism had very distinct and practical objects in view ; and were intended either to propitiate the malignant powers of dark- ness, or to obtain by their agency preternatural power ; or, on the other hand, to conciliate the favour and appease the anger of the Deity. And for this object the heathens shrunk from no expedient—deemed no price—no victim too costly, as the ex- istence of human sacrifices, and especially the sacrifice of chil- dren may serve to convince us; and I cannot conclude this first part of the ancient history of the world, without bestowing a - nore particular examination on this extreme aberration of paganism, which passed by inheritance trom the remoter ages to the second, more civilised, and (in many respects), milder era of history. The species of human sacrifice most widel diffused among all the Phoenician nations was that in which .the idol Moloch, heated from below, grasped in his glowing arms the infant victim. Even in the Punic city, Carthage, this cruel custom long prevailed, and was for a long time * The Aswameda. < t The reader may derive both pleasure and instruction from the perusal of a most masterly Treatise on Sacrifices, by the late Count Maistre, inserted at the end of the 2nd volume of “ Soirées de St. Petersbourg.” Nowhere have the learning, the eloguunce, the bold ani, profound philosophy of the noble author been more strikingly displayed, than in that short but admirable tract.— Trans. face sepepere ms a epare ee, ee a i a a ae ‘ HISTORY. 201 -secretly practised under the Roman dcmination. These sacri- fices existed among the Greeks and Romans, no less than -among: the Indians and Egyptians; and the Chinese, so far at least as my acquaintance with their authentic records extends, are the only people among whom I do not recollect meeting with any mention of this kind of sacrifice. But in the civilised states of Greece and Rome, this ancient custom was, in later aud milder times, gradually abolished, or silently supplanted by some equivalent. Besides the sacrifice of children, there was another species which was customary and particularly striking, and in one respect even more worthy the historian’s attention—I mean the sacrifice of pure youths. I may here again enforce the maxim which I have before laid down—namely, that error is the most appalling when it is connected in its origin, or mixed _up in its principle, with some confused notion—some profound, though obseure, feeling of the truth. Bearing this in mind, we shall find that the enigmatic lamentation of Lamech* over his mysterious slaying of a stripling, occurring in the Mosaic account of the Cainites, would scem to indicate that human sacrifices, and especially this particular kind, had their origin among the race of Cain, deeply imbued, even at that early period, with anti-Christian errors ; and that an unhappy delusion —a confused anticipation of a real necessity and of a future reality, contributed to the institution of these sacrifices. Of that great mystery of truth, which the holy patriarch of the Hebrews, with a prophetic intuition, had discerned in the sacrifice of his well-beloved son commanded him by God, but through the divine mercy not consummated—of this great mystery, we say, a diabolic imitation may have led to the human sacrifices by the early heathens. But these sacrifices were more widely diffused, even in the Druidical North, and they continued down to a much later period than is commonly supposed, or at present: asserted. ‘Thus, for instance, the’ * “ And Lamech said to his wives, Adah and Zillah, Hear my voice, ye wives of Lamech, hearken to my speech; for I have slain a man to the wounding of myself, and a stripling to my own )ruising.—GeEN. iv., 23. This obscure text has long perplexed the commentators:—Schle- gel, I think, has furnished an explanation as solid as it is ingenious, Thus Lamech to whom the introduction of polygamy is generally ascribed, was probably, also, the founder of human sacrifices. Accords ing to our great poet lust sits enthroned hard by hate. -77rans, ‘ : SE eer reenerrereeypmter onsen ennennetynareren tireerneery emenernettnet tft terry rthpttene eter retrace errr meena npereer er nreae rset eee arene sree owen 202 PHILOSOPHY OF anti-Christian Emperor Julian sought to revive them, in order to promote the infernal purposes of his dark magical rites. We are so habituated to look on the divinities and beautiful fables of ancient Greece, as the fairy creations of poetry, that we are painfully surprised when we unexpectedly stumble on some historical fact, which discloses the true spirit and internal essence of polytheism—the fact, for instance, that Themistocles himself, the deliverer of Greece, offered up three youths in sacrifice. The profound abyss of error, in which the most civilised nations of ancient heathenism had sunk and were lost, becornes the more apparent, the more closely it is investigated, and the more fully it is understood. And on this account, we should learn to see how necessary and salutary was that slow progres- sion—that gradual preparation for a brighter futurity, wherein, as ! above stated, consisted the peculiar destination and spiritual career of the Hebrew people. It is only from this, its peculiar destination for the future, the Hebrew people presents so high an interest to historical philosophy, and holds the lofty place assigned to it in the first period of human civilisation. The later destinies of the Jewish nation, and the particular events and characters in their later annals, are subjects of the highest moment in a history of religion ; for they can be rightly understood and fully appreciated only by their practical application, and profound symbolical ‘reference to the circumstances of Christianity. ae it is only the political constitution of the Jewish state in the earliest period of its history —a constitution which was so peculiar and unique in itself, so entirely without a parallel—that can be the appropriate subject of consideration in this general review of history ; because this constitution was connected with the prophetic calling of the Hebrew people, and even bore a prophetic cha- racter itself. This constitution has been called a theocracy, and so it was in the right and old signification of that word, by which was meant a government under the special and immediate providence of God. But in the now ordinary acceptation of the term, which implies a sacerdotal empire or dominion, the Jewish state was at no time and by no means a theocracy. Moses was no more a priest than a king; and after him all those men of Desire, as they were called from the first circumstances of their institution, or men of the “ » = oot » Aeetmeeade) <8 See error ere Whee?" HISTORY. 903 desert, because after a preparation in the solitude of the desert, they led and conducted the people m a literal or figurative sense, through the wilderness—all these men appointed by God, and without any other title or insignia but the staff, which as pilgrims they brought out of the desert, governed and directed the people under the immediate providence of God. If, on a certain occasion, one of the prophets girded on the sword, and led out an army—this was only a transient instance ; and the prophets in general were nothing more than the men of God, and the divinely-appointed conductors of the eople. When the wish in which the Hebrews had so long induleed of having a king, like the heathen nations, was at last gratified ; a wish which, in the higher views of Holy Writ, was regarded as the culpable illusion of a carnal sense ;—the last of the prophets formed a party, and constituted in a very peculiar and singular manner, a species of political opposition, which was acknowledged to be, and was in fact, perfectly legitimate and just. And when some of them, like Hlias for instanee, had received from God the supreme and immediate power over life and death, as the distinct badge of dominion ; we cannot wonder that men should have followed them, the people have been at their bidding, and kings themselves, even . though they followed not always their counsels, have hearkened at least to their warning voice. If those who are so, fond of playing the part of oppositionists in every country could only once rise superior to vulgar forms and formulas, and not everywhere seek for the echo of their modern opinions, an attentive study of the character of Kiias would hold up to their admiring view an oppositionist, who, in energy of conduct, and in burning zeal for the cause of truth and justice, or in other words, of God, could not be perhaps easily equalled by any historical personage whether of ancient republics, or of modern monarehies. After the Jewish state had become a kingdom of no very great dimensions, it shared the destiny of most of the petty states of those regions ; and was first @ province of the Assyro- Babylonish empire, then became subject to the Persian monarchs, afterwards to the Greek kings of Syria and Egypt, till, with these, it was finally swallowed up in the vast empira of all-conquering Rome, ln that restoration of the Jewish state which the Maccabee TC reer wwe OL, EET I ET TT LT IT EY TT FTE TN AS CE ERT FATT ; e latent NL i ie. aur ant an in cttecuadrteeamemmads maaedd RETR RM AE ONTO RT LE I eT OE 20+ PHILOSOPHY OF accomplished in the last period of the Greek domination over Judea, the high-priest acquired a concurrent political power ; a power which he even still retained under the oppressive protectorate of the Romans, though his functions, which were those of a legislator and supreme judge, were confined to the internal government of the state. But this does not constitute a really sacerdotal dominion, and the term theocracy is as little applicable to such an order of things, as to the Greek Patriarchate in the Turkish empire. However, the holy city of Jerusalem, along with Solomon’s old, mighty and symbo- lical temple (whose deep import and proper signification the Jews themselves at a later period no longer understood), still continued to be the main centre of the old national existence and ancient recollections of the Hebrews, as well as of their future hopes and prophetic promises. ven after the fearful destruction of Jerusalem, this emblematic idea of the holy city still lived in the recollection of mankind, and a long time afterwards was, in Christian Kurope, an animating incentive to the warlike nations of the middle age. | In conclusion, we must add some observations, referring not so much to the Jewish people and their history, as to their most ancient historical books, and to those general views of mankind which they contain, so fur as such views relate to the general history of the primitive ages, and are connected with the philosophy of history. In the same way it is neither necessary nor practicable to regard the Hebrew tongue as the general root or primal source of all the languages spoken on the earth, because it was the organ of divine revelation ; so the Mosaic genealogy of nations can with as little propriety be made the basis of a ge- neral Instory of the world, as has in earlier times been so ofte attempted, but never accomplished without much violence to the text. Although it would be difficult to find in the primitive re- cords of the other Asiatic nations an historical survey of all the nations on the globe, at once so clear, luminous, and instrue- tive; yet the Mosaic revelation had a far different object in view than to furnish a school-compendium of historical learning. This historical genealogy, which in its way cannot be too highly esteemed, was evidently destined by Moses more imme- diately for his own people, and his own book of the law; and in his account of the origin of nations, the sacred historian pro- HISTCRY. 205 ceeded on views and principles very different from ours. For instance, with us it is the affinity of languages, which forms the chief clue in the arrangement and classification of the different races of mankind; and, according to this principle, we rank the [lebrews with the Phoenicans, and regard them as kindred nations. But in the Mosaic history these two nations, separated by mutual hostility, stand at the widest distance one from the other ; tor m manners, religion, and feelings, they were diametrically opposed. | In this investigation, indeed, historical circumstances may often oecur—such as the popular commotions and intermixture of nations happening at all periods of the world—by which the question of the origin and affinity of different races under- goes considerable modifications, and the whole subject is rendered unsusceptible of a systematic division and arrange- ment. It often happens that one race adopts the language of another, without on that account losing its national indentity, or being totally confounded with the other; for, on the con- trary, its moral or intellectual character bears the clear traces of its original descent; so that here, at least, language alone will decide nothing. Often a less numerous tribe will stamp ‘its own native moral and intellectual character on a whole people. In general the descent of nations can be clearly traced and demonstrated in those cases only where the race has been kept up pure, and all marriage and connexion with other na- tions been strictly prevented. But such has been the case among certain nations only; and even in those countries, where it was the law, it was not in every instance rigidly observed, . nor constantly maintained ; as is exemplified in the frequent intermarriages of the Hebrews with the Phoenicians, severely prohibited as such intermarriages were. The ancient law- . givers attached, indeed, a very high importance to lineage, as is proved by all those restrictive laws on marriage, which were destined to preserve the purity of descent ; but they set a far higher value on the patrimonial inheritance of ancient customs, institutions, doctrines, and intellectual qualities, as constituting the true essence of national character, and deter- mining the rank which one race should hold above another. By Moses, in particular, this intellectual character of the dif- ferent. races—their feelings—modes of thinking—the whole eyirit which animated them; in.a word, the chain of sacred SRO I I 206 PHILOSOPHY OF tradition, and its transmission and preservation among the different nations—-all these are regarded of primary import. ance, and they alone furnish us with a clue to the discovery of his views. The great middle country in Western Asia, where the true Eden, the original abode of the first man, aud great progenitor of mankind, was situated, forms the central point in the general historical survey of Moses. ‘The wide-spread race of Japhet comprehends the Caucasian nations in the north, and all its contiguous regions, and also those in the central Asia ;—nations which were sound, vigorous, comparatively speaking, less cor- rupt, and by no means entirely barbarous: but which were de- barred from that near and immediate participation in the sacred traditions of primitive revelation, enjoyed by the people of the Semitic race in that midland country, whose distinctive charac- ter and high pre-eminence, according to Moses, consisted in this very participation. ‘I'o the south, the race of Cham in- cludes the degenerate, corrupt, and ungodly Egypt (a country which in its native language bore the name of Chemi), and beyond this, all the African tribes devoted to the dark rites of magic. How entirely subjective in itself—how exclusively adapted to his own people, and his own national object, is the genealogy of nations by Moses, may be proved among: other things by the fact that, while many great nations in remoter lands, or in the distant astern Asia, cannot, in this historical survey, be traced without difficulty to their proper place, or Path therein without violence to the text, twelve or thirteen generations are given of the kindred Arabian branch, or of the hostile Phoenician race. If regarded in this simple point of view, the Mosaic genealogy of all the nations throughout the inhabited globe will be found very clear, and, though the names of some particular races remain matter of doubt, this summary is in general perfectly intelligible, and throws a broad light on the history of mankind. RAD OF LECTURE Vt, HISTORY. 207 LECTURE VII. Gencral Considerations upon the Nature of Man, regarded in an His torical Point of View, and on tiie Two-fold View of History.—Of thu Ancient Pagan Mysteries.—Of the Universal Empire of Versia. Instr AD of the Mosaic genealogy of nations, commented on in a hnndred different ways, and interpreted according to the received views of each individual—a genealogy which was considered as the necessary basis of every universal history, and which by the most false and arbitrary metheds was vio- lently strained into an adaptation to all the data of history, evidently contrary to the real views aud mighty object of its inspired author ;—instead of this genealogy, we say, the sacred records of divine truth furnish us with a far more profound principle, a principle highly simple and comprehensive, and which is perfectly applicable to the philosophy of history. That is that principle laid down in that revelation, at the com- mencement of all history, as the one wherein consists the pecu- liar nature—the true essence—and the final destiny of man— I mean his likeness to his Creator. Now it is this principle which forms the ground-work of our whole plan—and now that we have reached the conclusion of the first period of his- tory, and are about to pass to the second, it may be proper to examine more minutely the nature of this principle, and to give an accurate definition of it. , According to the different notions entertained of man's nature, there are but two opposite views of history—two mighty and conflicting parties in the department of historical science. It is quite unnecessary to observe that we include not, - in either class, such writers as, confining themselves to a bare detail of facts, indulge not in any general historical views, or . even such as, vacillating in their opinions, have no clear, defi- nite, and consistent views on the subject. According to one party, man is merely an animal, ennobled and gradually dis- 208 : PHILOSOPHY OF ciplined into reason, and finally exalted into genius; and therefore the history of human civilisation is but the history of a gradual, progressive, and endless improvement. ‘This theory may, in a certain sense, be termed the liberalism of historical philosophy ; and no one perhaps has developed it with such clearness and mathematical rigour, as a very celebrated French writer, entirely possessed with this idea, and who indeed be- came in his time a martyr to these principles. * In the contests of opinion, which embrace the general rela- tions of society, it is far less those dogmas in which each indi- vidual seeks light, aid, strength and repose for his feelings and his conscience, his inward struggles and his final hopes—than the single article of faith respecting man, and what constitutes his essential being, lis internal nature, and his higher destiny, which determines the Christian or unchristian view—the reli- gion or irreligion of history, if I may be allowed the expres- sion. This principle of the endless perfectibility of man has something in it very accordant with reason ; watt if this per- fectibility be considered asa mere possible disposition of the human mind, there is doubtless much truth im the theory, but it must be borne in mind that the corrupéibility of man is quite as great as his perfectibility. But when this system is applied to the general course of history, it is destitute of any real beginning; for this vague notion of an animal capable of infinite improvement is not a beginning of any series of terms ; and in philosophy, as in life and history, there is no true and solid beginning for any thing out of God. And this principle is equally destitute of any right end ; for a mere interminable progress is not a fixed term nor positive object. But history presents a mass of stub- born facts, which agree not always with this abstract law of an infinitely progressive perfection, and, on the contrary, the annals not only of particular nations, but of whole periods of the world, would prove that the natural march of humanity lay rather in a circuitous course. This disagreeable fact is utterly inexplicable according to the rationalist system of his- tory—or if it be susceptible of explanation, it certainly is not reconcilable with the liberal view. As often as from the path of endless perfectibility, thus mathematically traced out for them, man and mankind swerve m eccentric deviations ; 0) ® The author alludes to Condorcet. rechten TUSTORY. 209 even should their course, like that of the planets of our hcaven at stated periods, be in appearance once retrogressive ; the his- torical inquirer, who starts from this principle, is immediately disconcerted by sucha course of events so contrary to his theory ; and, in his blind indignation in which he involves alike the present and future, as well as the past, and by the false light of the passionate spirit of time, he pronounces on these a judgment most iniquitous, or at best extremely partial, certainly at least most repugnant to the dictates of truth. But man is not merely a nobler animal, fashioned by degrees to reason or dignified into genius. His peculiar and distinctive excellence—his real essence—his true nature and. destiny con- sist in his likeness to God; and from this principle proceeds a view of history totally different from that we have just de- scribed; for, according to it, man’s history must be the history of the restoration of the likeness to God, or of the progress towards that restoration. That this sublime origin of man being once supposed—the divine image has been much altered, impaired, and defaced in the mmost recesses of the human breast, both of man in particular and of mankind in general, is a truth we may learn, independently of the positive doctrine of religion ; for clearly is it vouched and coufirmed by the testi- mony of our own feclings, our own experience of life, and a general survey of the world. No man who well knows that the image of God has been stamped on the human soul—an image, whose old, half-obliterated characters are still to be found on all the pages of primitive history, and whose impress, not utterly effaced, every reflecting mind may discover in its own interior—can ever forego the hope, that, much as that divine image may scem, or may in fact be, impaired, its resto- ration is still possible. The man who knows from human life, and from his own experience, how great and arduous is this work—how many obstacles oppose its accomplishment, and how easily, even after a partial success, what already appeared won, may be again lost ;—the man understanding this, will not be at a loss to comprehend any pause or retrogression, real or apparent, in the march of mankind; he will judge the fact with more equity, and consequently more accuracy; and will, in every case, confide in the guidance of that superior Provi- dence, clearly visible in this regeneration of the world. If, in y 210 PHILOSOPHY UF opposition to the rationalist theory of man’s endless perfectibility, we were to designate the opposite system of history founded on man’s inborn likeness to his Maker, as the legitimacy of histo- rical philosophy; this title would not be incorrect, since all divine and human laws and rights, as they are found in history, depend, in their first basis, on the supposition of the high dig- nity and divine destination of man. Hence this view of history is the only one which restores to man the full rights and pecu- liar prerogatives of his being. Even to all other truths it re- stores their full force and rights; and it alone can do so without detriment to its own principle; for, as this is the simple truth, it is, therefore, complete and comprehensive. It must even acknowledge that man, beside his higher dignity and divine destiny, is and remains in his outward existence a physical creature—and though he be such not im an exclusive, but only secondary and subordinate sense, still, in respect to his external being and. external development, he may be subject to certain natural laws in history. In the same way, it may admit that man endowed with freedom, even when he rejects the religious principle, is still a being gifted with reason; a being that consequently on this foun- dation incessantly works, builds, and improves, in good as in evil, essentially, interminably,—we might almost say, fear- fully progressive. This legitimate philosophy of history, which proceeds from the high, divine point of view, should be, as far as the limited capacity of man will permit, a recognition and a just appreciation of the truth, and thereby become a science of history—that is to say, of all which under Providence has oc- cured to the human race. ‘Thus it must by no means adopt a view of life and of the world, transcending the true right and the right truth—it must avoid deviating into wtraism—though this term of the present day involves in the expression of a true idea, some inaccuracy and misconception. On the contrary, this religious view of history and of life, precisely because it is such, can never in its historical judgments sanction a spirit of harsh, precipitate, unqualified censure. For as the Mosaic doe- trine of the divine image stamped on the human soul, forms the real and distinctively Christian theory of man, and conse- quently of his history ; so this evidently implies, that among all the laws of human conduct, emanating from this Christian theory, and from Christianity itself, the law of love is the first OF RTT EER CITE HT ETE AO yo RO CoRR RRR tm Les TEE IRE oe Weer mprye!? ee ene ee ee ee 2 ee ere es Ser ee Sn es 2 HISTORY. agg and the greatest: —a law which must retain its full force and efli- cacy not only in life, but.in science also. Yet love or charity is by no means incompatible with firmness of principle—the vacillations of judgment proceed only from indifference to, or the utter absence of, all principle—the tomb of love, as well as of truth. : This divine image implanted in the human breast is not an. isolated thought—a transient flash of light, like the kindling spark ef Prometheus: nor is it a mere Platonic resemblance to the Deity—an ideal speculation of the human mind soaring be- yond the range of vulgar conception. But, as this likeness to God forms the fundamental principle of human existence, it is interwoven with the internal structure of human consciousness ; and the triple nature of the soul is intimately connected with the principle of the divine resemblance. In its state of discord, the human consciousness, in its external operations, pursues four opposite paths of direction towards reason (Vernunft), or imagination (I’antasie), or understanding (Verstand), or will (Wille), so long as these faculties remain disunited. But, - _ when consciousness is restored to its primitive harmony, the internal life of man is threefold in mind, soul, and sense; and to expound and demonstrate this truth, was the pur- port and object of the Philosophy of Life, which I treated of in a former course of lectures. And this triple nature of spiritual life, which, among all creatures, characterises man alone, is most closely allied with the triple energy and per- sonality of the one Divine Being, and constitutes, as far as the immeasurable distance between the creature and Creator will permit, the wonderful analogy between weak, mutable man, - and the infinite Spirit of eternal Love. But the original hare mony of human consciousness—the triple nature of spiritual life, ean be restored in individual man by the following means only : —the soul, previously distracted, can regain its unity, or be- come again whole, only by a divine illumination ;—when this _light—the first ray of hope—is humbly received and imbibed by the soul. Enhghtened by this first incipient ray, the mind, the living mind, no longer now a cold, dead, abstract under- standing, is enabled to embrace with faith the pure word of truth (which is one with love), and to comprehend this word aright, and, by this word, to comprehend the world and its owne self:—while the understanding, in its former isolated and abe Pee | | 212 PHILOSOPHY OF stract state, was doth internally and externally distracted and divided betweent the phantasmata of nature and the endless so- phisms of contentious dialectic. When thus the strong hand of all-ruiding love, hath loosed the Gordian knot which bound the human consciousness in inextricable folds ;—the third funda- mental faculty in man—the sense for divine things—is then awakened and excited. This is now no longer a mere passive feeling for divine things—a will undetermined, or incapable of good ; but it becomes an energy acting on hfe—an energy which is itself life and deed. But the progressive march of social nan, which constitutes the subject of universal history, or, as we term it, the formation and growth of humanity, are regulated by principles somewhat different from those which determine the internal life of indivi- dual man. Here the different stages of development cannot be classed according to the three fundamental faculties of con- sciousness in individual man ; but the principle of development must be sought for in the divine impulse, as the same is attested by history, and which, in every stage of social progress, has been to mankind the source of a new life; though here again, from the very nature of thing's, three marked degrees of social advancement occur. Corresponding to the divine image im- planted in the breast of individual man—the main subject of all history—the word of divine truth originally communicated to man, and which the sacred traditions of all nations attest in so many and such various ways, forms the leading clue of historical investigation and judgment, during the first stage of the pro- gress of society. But in the second stage of social development, which must be fixed in that full noon-day period of refinement, when victorious power shines forth so conspicuously in the as- cendency obtained by nations, to whom universal pre-eminence was accorded—the right notion of this power, or the question how far it were just and godly, or pernicious in its application —whether it were inimical to God, or at least of a mixed nature—must constitute the true standard of historical investi- gation, In the third or last stage, however, of this progress, which occurs in the modern period of the world, the pure truths of Christianity as they influence science and life itself, alone can furnish the right clue of historical inquiry, and can alone afford any indication as to the ulterior advances of society in future ages ; thus then the IVord, the Power. and the Light, form the WISTORY Zhe three-fold divine principle, or the moral classification of historica. philosophy—a classitication which is founded on historical ex- perience and historical reality. The existence of a primitive revelation—the establishment of Christianity, which was the principle and power of a new moral life in society—and the pre-eminence of modern Europe in civilisation, in which she outshines all other portions of the globe, and even in many respects most periods of antiquity, are three historical data—three mighty facts in civilisation, which evince the successive stages of human progress and im- provement. And it is our task to appreciate in their full ex- tent each of those different degrees of social advancement, and to comprehend and explain them aright in their relative bear- ines to the whole. ‘That the Christian nations and states of Europe have received, along with the light of divine truth, a high intellectual, moral, and political illumination, no one will deny; and it is equally evident that this vital principle of modern society is still involyed in the crisis of its development —a crisis which will form the principal subject of historical in- quiry in the latter part of this work. | It is equally undeniable that, in the second period of the world, to which I now pass, each of those nations that attained to universal empire at that epoch displayed a high intellectual or moral energy. This energy was visible in that strong, deep sense of nature, which characterised the old ancestra. faith and pure manners of the ancient Persians, and in that high martial enthusiasm, and fervent patriotism, which it so easily inspired. The power of inventive genius in the sciences, and in the fine arts, none can deny to the Greeks ; none can dispute their pre-eminence in these; as, on the other hand, the Romans were equally unrivalled in vigour of charac- ter, and in that moral energy of will, which they exhibited in all their contests with other states. [ere now the question to be asked is, whether that high intellectual and moral energy accorded to those nations, thus gifted with universal dominion, were always well employed : whether that power, exaltea as it _ was, were truly divine, or what were the earthly and pernicious elements intermixed with it ;--whether this power, great and wonderful as it was in its way, were in itself adequate to the moral and intellectual regeneration of degraded humanity ; or, whether a power of another, far purer and higher nature were 214 | PHILOSOPHY OF requisite to this end. I should think I had amply solved the problem involved in the history of that first period of the world, which I have here brought to a close, if, in this brief historical sketch, I have succeeded in proving the existence of an original revelation to mankind—the primitive word of divine truth— whereof we find the clearest indications and scattered traces in the sacred traditions of all the primitive nations—traces which, when viewed apart, appear like the broken remnants, the mys- terious, and, as it were, hieroglyphic characters—of a mighty edifice that has been aay I should think, too, | had fully accomplished my task, if I have succeeded in proving that, however much amid the growing degeneracy of mankind, this primal word of revelation may have been falsified by the admixture of various errors, however much it may have been overlaid or obscured by numberless and manifold fictions, inex- tricably confused and disfigured almost beyond the power of recognition ; still a profound inquiry will discover in heathen- ism many luminous vestiges of primitive truth. For the old heathenism (and we must add this remark as the result of our inquiries), the old heathenism had a founda- tion in truth, and, thoroughly examined and rightly under- stood, would serve for a confirmation of the same; for the profound researches of recent times on ancient mythology, and its historical sources, though conducted with the most op- posite views, lead us more and more to this great end and result of all the knowledge of antiquity, or at least very near it. Were it possible, or could we succeed in separating the pure intuition into nature and the simple symbols of nature, that constituted the basis of all heathenism, from the alloy of error, and the incumbrancees of fiction; those first hieroglyphic traits of the instinctive science of the first men would not be repugnant to truth and to a true knowledge of nature, but would offer, on the contrary, an instructive image of a freer, purer, more comprehensive, and more finished philosophy of life. For, if man, who is the highest and most central object of nature on the earth, had not possessed in the beginning an instinctive science and immediate insight into nature, he could never have attained to this knowledge by the resources of art, and by all the aids of instruments and machinery, or have acquired thereby a true understanding of nature, her in- ternal life, and her hidden powers. The symbolical error which ; BEET OE TI TT EET SEE POR TR Pe Ew q st ~ PRATT EME er eee GANA. RRR ECAR TREN SUR TER PERE VHRR PRON TE RT ERMAN UBER ENT ETRE HISTORY. 215 has produced mythology, and which has again emanated from mythology—I mean the identification of the symbol with the object itself, of which, as the latter was something higher and more mysterious, the former originally was, and should have been, nothing more than the mere explanatory emblem—the symbolical error is comparatively the most excusable; and for a being constituted like man, whose soul is divided between figurative faney and discursive reason, is almost natural, and has grown into a psychological habit, and a second nature. This error would never have arisen, if the confusion of the high and of the low, of the principal and of the inferior, of God and of nature, and the inversion of the due order of each, had not, in a partial degree at least, previously taken place. The fun- damental error of paganism lay in the sensual idolatry of nature, by which that inversion of things, and with them of all moral doctrines, took place; although this destructive error of materialism is to be found not only in the heathen religion, but. - in the atomical philosophy and other false systems of science. Besides that sensual deification of nature, which was the pre- dominant principle in the mythology and popular religion of the ancients, there was another and capital error—magie, which was a dark and abusive application—an illicit perversion of the high powers of nature, when these were really understood, and the mind, penetrating through her sensible and external veil, had caught her true spirit and internal life. This loftier, and, on that account, more dangerous error was not so prevalent in the popular and poetical religion of antiquity, but was chiefly to be fouud in the secret associations of the pagan mysteries. — Although these mysteries which, in Greece, as well as in Egypt, exerted such a mighty influence on public opinion, on science, and on the whole system of thinking, nay, on life itself, disclosed far graver and profounder doctrines than the vulgar mythology of the poets, on all the great questions relative to the human soul, its capacity and original dignity, as well as to the hidden powers of nature and the whole invisible world ; still we must not imagine that the influence of these mysteries was always salutary, or that their internal constitution and ruling spirit were in their ultimate tendency always entitled to commendation. We may, in my opinion, ascribe to the Egyp- tians much science, especially in physics, more, perhaps, than the Greeks in general, and the Pythagoreans in particular, are eS 216 PHILOSUPHY OF had, as far as we yet know, learned and borrowed from them but we must not imagine this Egyptian science to have been exempt from a gross alloy of error, and the various abuses of magic. When once the sacred standard and clue of truth are lost, when the due order of things and of doctrines is once in- verted, then the mind of man often associates the sublime, the mysterious, and the wonderful, with the mean, the perverse, and the wicked. Amid all those false and whimsical images of gods, the mere symbols of nature, but at least very equivocal ernblems and hieroglyphs, the temple sleep of the Egyptians might easily nourish illusions of error and visions of darkness; especially where a magical spirit prevailed, that 1s to say, an illicit purpose in the application of the high powers of nature—and a will in- stigated to evil by the arts of the demon. And in all science the matter of greatest moment, and that which determines its value, is its relation to the higher and divine truth; that is to say, whether this science be well employed, or whether, on the contrary, it be converted to a corrupt and destructive use ; whether the due order and subordination of inferior nature, and of every thing earthly, towards God and the things of God, which are the principal, be rightly observed and maintained, But this fundamental truth being once supposed, all science, even that which penetrates tlie deepest into nature and her most hidden springs of life, can conduce only to the greater glory of the mighty Author of nature. All these natural secrets, and their true explanations, are to be found in various passages, notices, and allusions in the Old Testament, especially - in the books of Moses ; they are, indeed, to be found there, like so many golden grains of science in full weight, but, scattered and dispersed, they serve at once to adorn and point out the path that leads to an object, ever regarded as the most im- portant in Holy Writ—namely, the revealing to man the wonderful ways of Divine Providence in the conduct of the human race—the holy ark of the covenant of divine niysteries and promises, if I may be allowed such an expression. — [Tere every thing is subordinate to religion, every thing ministers to this higher object—and this is the distinctive mark and stam) of truth, even in the investigations of nature, and of its revealed or hidden mysteries. How a slight deviation trom truth may suffice to give birth 1 time to a mighty and progressive error, is strongly exempli- ° HISTORY. 217 fied in the fundamental doctrine of the ancient religion of Persia —a doctrine which was at first nothing more than a simple ve- neration of nature, its pure elements and its primary energies —the sacred fire, and above all, light—the air, not the lower atmospheric air, but the purer and higher air of heaven—the breath that animates and pervades the breath of mortal life. In India, too, this doctrine must have been very prey ralent in the primitive ages; for many and very ancient passages of the Vedas vetera to these elements, while, on the other hand, the names of the later Hindoo divinities appear to have eee entirely unknown at that period. This pure and simple vene- ration of nature is perhaps the most ancient, and was by far the most generally prevalent in the primitive and patriarchal world. In its original conception, it was by no means a deifi- cation of nature, or a denial of the sovereignty of God—it was only at a later period that the symbol, as it so often happens, was confounded with the thing itself, and usurped the place of that higher object which it was destined originally to represent. And how can we doubt that these pure elements and primitive essences of created nature would offer to the first men, who were still in a close communication with the Deity, not indeed a likeness or resemblance (forin man alone is that to be found), nor a mere fanciful image, or a poetical figure, but.a natural and true symbol of divine power :—how can we doubt this, | say, when we see that, inso many passages of Holy Writ (not to say in every part), the pure light or sacred fire 1s employed as an image of the all-pervading and all-consuming power and omnipotence of God? Not to speak again of those passages of Scripture, which describe the animating breath and inspiration of God as the first source of life, and speak of the gentle breath, the light whisper of the breeze that announced to the prophet the ‘teenie presence of his God, before whom he fell prostrate, and mantled himself in awe and reverence ; and this surely cannot be understood as a poetical and figurative expres- sion! Undoubtedly, the Scriptures often oppose to that natural emblem or veil of divine power, in the pure elements, an evil, subterraneous and destructive fire—the false light of the fens of error—the poisonous breath of moral contagion. And how could it be otherwise? Nature in its origin was nought else than a beautiful image—a pure emanation—a wonderfw— creation—a sport, of omnipotent love § so, when it was severea 218 PHILOSOPHY OF from its divine original, internally displaced, and turned agains! its Maker, it became vitiated in its substance, and fraught with evil, This alienation of nature from God, this inversion of the: right order in the relations between God and nature, was the peculiar, essential, and fundamental error of ancient paganism, its false mysteries, and the abusive application of the higher powers of nature in magical rites. On the other hand, we ought to regard every similar inversion of things and of ideas every similar derangement in the divine system, though established on the basis of Christianity, and by Christian philo- sophers—we ought, I say, to regard every such attempt as being in its essential nature and principle a heathen enterprise —the foundation of a scientific paganism, although no altars be erected to Apollo, and no mysteries be celebrated in honour of Isis.* The pure symbolism of nature, and the whole circle of the primitive symbclical ideas of the Egyptians, several of the Greek writers attempted to gather out of the mass of idolatrous tenets, natural emblems, and hieroglyphic signs of speech ; but their researches do not correspond to the importance of the - subject itself, nor to the present demands of science. It is well worthy of remark that the hieroglyphics, as far as they have yet been deciphered, do not indicate in their formation that variety of epochs observable in the Chinese system of writing ; but, on the contrary, they seem to be all of a single cast, and offer the same circle of ideas and the same style of emblems. And as images of gods are to be found in a diminutive form among the other hieroglyphic signs, we may conclude from this circumstance, that all the hieroglyphics must have had a simultaneous origin, and have remained subsequently unchanged ; and that their origin must have occurred at a time when the Egyptian idolatry had already been wrought into a perfect system. In the primitive ages, during the first thirty-three centu- ries of the world, according to the ordinary computation, the various nations into which mankind were divided, followed in their development a separate and secluded course ; and twe mighty nations, the Indians and the Chinese, have remained to this day in this isolated and totally sequestered state. The i This is an allusion to the Pantheistic Naturalism of Schelling.— 9 IHS, ° EET HISTORY. 219 peculiar character which distinguishes the second from the first epoch of the world is that, along with the first mighty con- quests, there existed a much closer connexion, a mutual influ- ence, an active commerce, and various intercourse among many nations, nay, among all the nations of the then civilised world. From this period, when the intercourse among nations becomes more intimate, history acqtires greater clearness, precision, and critical exactness ; and this is only six, or at most seven centuries before the Christian era. The first Persian con- querors advanced with rapid strides towards the objects of their ambition ; for after the founder of the Persian empire—Cyrus, had made himself master of the whole central region of Western Asia, as well as of the Lesser Asia, his successes were soon followed up by the conquest of Egypt by the arms of Cambyses; and a little subsequent to this, by the great expe- dition of Xerxes into Greece, whose valiant defenders, how- ever, ruined his hopes of conquest. Egypt, which in its intel- lectual character, civilisation, and political institutions, had a much stronger analogy and affinity with those two great pri- mitive states—India and China, shut out from the rest of the world, was engaged in political relations with the nations of Western Asia, and those inhabiting the shores of the Medi- terranean, such as the Persians, the Phoenicians, and the Greeks ; and hence a short sketch of its political history, down to the period of the Persian conquest, as far at least as is neces- sary for the elucidation of general history, will not be here inappropriate or misplaced. The long list of names of kings, belonging to more than twenty dynasties of the ancient Pharaohs, furnishes, indeed, matter of little interest or importance to the philosophic in- quirer in his researches on universal history. It is, however, . worthy of remark that many and vast expeditions appear te have been undertaken in the early ages of Egypt; though, while mention is made of such conquests, nothing is said of the permanent possession of the conquered countries. Sesostris, who, in the lifetime of his father, Amenophis, had seized the whole coast of Arabia, next vanquished, for the first time, Lybia and Ethiopia, afterwards extended his conquests to Bac- triana, subdued the Scythian nations in the Caucasian coun- tries, in Colchis, and as far as the Don, and even took possess sion of Thrace. The descent of the Colchians from the Egyp- nina mnnaneucccuunnecceiiabieeniies a lear ‘ 220 PITILOSOPHY OF tians, or the existence of an Egyptian colony in Colchis, was regarded by the ancients as an historical fact. The yet more ancient King Osymandas is said to have undertaken an expe- dition attended by an immense army to reconquer Bactriana, that had revolted against the Egyptian any and the tri- umnphant arms of Osiris stretched on one hand as far as the Ganges, and on the other as far as the sources of the Danube. Here a question arises:—did the Egyptians possess heroie poems similar to the Ramayana and Mahabarata of the Indians, and were these marvellous narratives extracted from these poems ? Or had all these narratives a signification purely mythic, as we may easily conjecture to be the case in the expe- dition of Osiris? In those historical ages which are better known to us, Egypt was certainly never a conquering power— at least its conquests were never of a solid and permanent nature ; though even in those times Egypt made some tran- sient conquests, or at least expeditions ; and, guilty of great political encroachments on other states and nations, was often doomed to experience from these a vigorous resistance to her attempts. A part of Lybia, the coast of Arabia contiguous to the Red Sea, and the Arabia Petriea, acknowledged for a lone time the sceptre of the Pharaohs, (and this fact indeed, the various monuments covered over with hieroglyphics, which are found in those countries, would seem to corroborate): Ethiopia, too, or at least a considerable portion of that region, was for a long period in the possession of the Egyptian kings. The construction of the many ancient and vast edifices and monu- ments which are crowded together in the province of Thebais must, to all appearance, have required a greater number of hands than the Proper Egypt (a country by no means of con- siderable extent) could have furnished of itself. As Ethiopia had been conquered by the Egyptians, so the Ethiopians in their turn invaded Egypt, and founded there a royal dynasty. The second of these Ethiopian kings, Tirhaka, sought to stretch his conquests as far as Libya and the northern coast of Africa, and must have penetrated as far as the columns of Hercules, or the modern straits of Gibraltar. On the other hand, there is historical evidence that even the Carthaginians, at the time when the family of Mago had the ascendency in their state, conquered and took possession of the Egyptian eityof Thebes. The king of Egypt, who is known in the HISTORY... 99} historical books of the Ilebrews by the name of Shishak, and who made the transient conquest of Jerusalem, is called Shes- _ honk or Sesonchis in the ancient inscriptions of the Pharaohs. It is worthy of remark, that we find, in the old Egyptian monuments, pictures of war-scenes representing very strangely- formed, or at least very remote, nations, as captives of war, and among: these, we distinguish some with red hair and blue eyes, tattooed on the legs, perfectly corresponding to the de- scriptions which many ancients have left us of the Scythian nations. Ata much earlier period, a nomade tribe of Pheeni- - cian, or, more probably, Arabian descent, had taken pos- session of the throne of Egypt, and had established in that country the national dynasty of the Hycsos, that is to say, the shepherd-kings. Some have wished to connect these with the Israelites ; but in the whole history of the latter—the hos- pitable reception of the Hebrew colony under Joseph—its sub- sequent oppression—and its final expulsion from Egypt in the time of Moses, we can find no trace of any such dominion of a pastoral nation of Hebrews, or of any dynasty founded by them in Egypt; and even other circumstances agree not at all with such a supposition. With the neighbouring nations and tribes, Egypt had manifold and various relations, which, though in some particulars they might be similar, were far from being identical. If it 1s proved that Sesostris ascended the throne immediately after his father had succeeded in ex- pelling the Hyesos, it may fairly be presumed that as an internal revolt against a foreign power and a foreign dynasty is wont to enkindle a spirit of martial enthusiasm, which easily leads to ulterior and more vigorous undertakings ; the expedi- tions and conquests of Sesostris, though ever so much exag- gerated, are not entirely destitute of. historical foundation. Thus much is certain, that in antiquity there existed in many places, comparatively remote from Egypt, whole colonies, es- pecially of a sacerdotal kind, whose origin was undoubtedly Ngyptian ; and that the first colonies which carried arts and . civilisation into Greece, and the other countries bordering on the Mediterranean, did not come solely from Pheenicia ; for even in Greece, the genealogy of many royal families and an- cient cities, as well as most, if not all, the mysteries, particularly the Orphic, pointed to Egypt as their common parent. And it is very possible that in those early ages, in which these | ty EE eT a eT TT ee I mE TTT TTT I TELLS (TL ET NT Af TAT SEER TET EI TI SAT Ty FRONTIER AE see Nats gti See ae we Pry PUILOSOPHY OF Egyptian expeditious are said to have been undertaken, armed colonies may have emigrated from Egypt, not: always influ- enced, however, by those commerciai views which invariably directed the colonists of Pheenicia; but animated by those higher motives of religion, which, for example, had such an evident influence on the first Persian conquests—by a de- sire to diffuse the mysteries, and thereby, while they bound to Egypt the then still barbarous nations of the West, to raise the latter to the more exalted scale of Egyptian civi- lisation. Even domestic troubles and civil discord may have been instrumental in producing those distant emigrations, which at this distance of time appear to us so mysterious and unaccountable. Such civil discord, indeed, existed in Egypt under various forms. The country itself was often divided into several kingdoms ; and even when united, we observe a great conflict of interests between the agricultural province of Upper Egypt, and the commercial and manufacturing province of the Lower; as, indeed, a similar clashing of interests is often to be noticed in modern states. In the period imme- diately preceding the Persian conquest, the caste of warriors, that is to say, the whole class of the nobility, were decidedly opposed to the monarchs, because they imagined them to pro- mote too much the power of the priesthood ; in the same way as the history of India presents a similar rivalry or political hostility between the Brahmins and the caste of the Csha- triyas. In the reign of the Egyptian King Psammetichus, who had first checked or repelled the Scythian nations whose victorious arms then menaced the whole of Asia, the disaffection of the native nobility obliged this prince to take Greek soldiers into his pay; and thus at length was the defence of Egypt intrusted to an army of foreign mercenaries. ‘This cireum- stance, as well as the great commercial intercourse with the Greeks, and the number of Greek settlements in Lower Egypt, had made this province half Greek, even prior to the Persian conquest ; and had paved the way and opened the door to this, as well as to the later, conquest by the Greeks ; for, in general, states and kingdoms, before they succumb to a foreign conqueror, are, if not outwardly and visibly, yet secretly and internally, undermined. The classical writers of antiquity begin, in general, their universal history by an account of the Assyro-Babylonian em- HISTORY. 224 pire, which preceded the Medo-Persian, and the annals of the early mythic ages of this empire are embellished with the fabu- lous victories of Semiramis; as similar fictions indeed are to be found in the primitive Sagas of all the other Asiatic nations, However, the conquest of Media by Ninus appears to be more historical. The simplest, and for that reason, the most correct view of the subject is this, that in this great central region of Western Asia, four countries were contiguous, which often formed separate empires—Babylon and Assyria, Media and Persia; and which, when united, were governed sometimes by one, sometimes by another province, according to the coun- try to which the ruling dynasty belonged; while the different capitals of these four countries, Babylon, Ninive, Ecbatana, Susa, or Persepolis, alternately formed, during their flourishing period, the centre of a great empire. ‘This first Assyro-Baby- Jonian universal monarchy, as it is called, should not be consi- dered as a distinct period of history, but rather as the most an- cient dynasty of a great Asiatic empire, which was succeeded by a second, the Medo-Persian dynasty; in the same way as the successors of Alexander the Great founded in this very country a new Greek kingdom, and as at a later period the Parthians, whose original seat lay to the north-east, re-estab- blished in this land a native sovereignty, that proved very formidable to the Romans. This great middle country of Western Asia is the native seat of conquest; it was hence that emanated the spirit of ambition and enterprise, which found, indeed, in the very situation of the country most extraordinary facilities. And it is here, too, that Holy Writ places the abode of the first universal conqueror—the cradle of all ambi- tion and conquest. In the very place where the ancient Ba- _ bylon stood there are now immense ruins, to which the inha- bitants of the country give the name of Nimrod’s Castle, and which involuntarily bring to the modern traveller’s mind the old history of the Tower of Babel; as these ruins, in al] proba- bility, formed a part of the great Temple of Belus, which in eight lofty stories rose to a prodigious height, and on the pin- nacle whereof stood a colossal idol of the national divinity— the sun. Even now the ruins of this temple, piled in immense heaps one upon the other, and which seem as if glazed by some raging’ fire, produce a very profound impression on the miud; and to such a height do they rise, that the clouds rest on their 224 PHILOSOPILY OF summit above, while lions couch on the walls, or haunt the caverns below. Here, too, we look for the place where were the vast terraces, with their hanging or floating gardens, as the ancients called them, and which in a country by no means abounding in wood, the Assyrian monarch constructed from affection to his Median spouse. Here the widely-scattered heaps and mounds of brick, inscribed with the cunea! characters of Babylon, attest the existence and vast circumference of the mighty capital, of whose dimensions no European city, but the Asiatic cities only, can furnish an adequate idea. This Baby- lonish tower has been in every age a figure of the heaven- — aspiring edifice of lordly arrogance, which sooner or later is sure to be struck down and scattered afar by the arm of the divine Nemesis; and in Holy Writ itself, the Babylon giddied _ by the intoxicating cup of ambition, drunk with the blood of nations, is a mighty historical emblem, applicable to every age from the earliest to the latest times, of the mad, people-destroy- ing career of a pagan pride. Here did the evil commence, although the first Assyrian empire had no very extensive in- fluence on the nations westward, and although the real epoch of universal conquest dates from the Persian Cyrus. Yet the ancient Babylon contrived to maintain her power, for, as has so often been exemplified in history, she, by the moral conta- gion of her voluptuous manners, conquered her conquerors, who abandoned the gods of their ancestors, to embrace the sensual nature-worship of the Babylonians. In the new monarchy founded by Cyrus, the Persians (now the ruling nation) were closely united, and politically, at least, incorporated with the once more powerful Medes. Yet their race and language were originally very different, and even at a later period we can still observe some traces of mutual jealousy in a change of dynasty, or the forcible dethronement of the prince. The institute of the Magi, which Cyrus established in his new Persian empire, served, outwardly at least, to cement this union; for the Magi were of the Median race, and their sacred zend-books were not composed in the Persian language, but in two distinct dialects of Media, if one, indeed, were not rather Bactrian. The M agi were not so much an hereditary sacerdotal caste, as an order or association divided into various and successive ranks and grades, such as existed in the mysteries—the grade of appreue ticeship—that of mastership—that of perfect mastership. Fo- HISTORY. 226 refeners coud not easily gain admission into this sacerdotal order ; and it was only at the express solicitation of the King of Persia, at whose court he resided, that this extraordinary favour was accorded to Themistocles. Whether the old Persian doctrine and system of light* did not undergo material altera- tions in the hands of its Median restorer, Zoroaster ; or whether this doctrine were preserved in all its purity by the order of the Magi, may well be questioned. It is certain, at least, that that primitive veneration of nature is found completely disfigured and corrupted in the small existing remnant of the sect of Guebers, or fire-worshippers. On the order of the Magi devolved the important trust of the monarch’s education—a trust which must necessarily have given them great weight and influence in the state. They were in high credit at the Persiangates—for that was the Oriental name given to the capital of the empire, and the abode of the prince ; and they took the most active part in all the factions that encompassed the throne, or that were formed in the vicinity of the court. In Greece, and even in Egypt, the sacerdotal fraternities and associations of initiated, formed by the mysteries, had in general but an indirect, though not unimportant, influence on affairs of state; but in the Persian monarchy, they acquired a complete political ascendency. The next main pillar of the Persian monarchy was its nobility, or the principal race of the Pasargads, who immediately surrounded _the throne, enjoyed the highest prerogatives, and formed indeed the flower of the Persian army. The strict moral and military education which this nobility received, and of which Xenophon has drawn such a beautiful ideal sketch, constituted the chief strength of the state. And certainly the neglect of this old Persian system of education was one of the primary causes of the decline of the empire--a decline which the progressive relaxation and corruption of public morals accelerated with a fearful rapidity. After the first mighty impulse, and that severe moral character which Cyrus had imparted to Persia, chad disappeared, the same fate befel this empire, as has befallen all the great Oriental monarchies. The same evils, which the domination of provincial satraps—a government of the seraglio —invariably bring along with it—the factions, the conspiracies, the changes of dynasty, and the other disorders incident to * In the Germen “ Lichtsage,” or Tradition of Light.—Zrans. G a, » 226 PHILOSOPHY OF lespotism, appear in exactly similar colours in the Persian annals ; and even in the modern kingdom of Persia, we find many of those characteristic traits or usages of Asiatic govern- ment as they existed in the ancient empire. Even the army, © for the most part, consisted of troops levied out of the conquered nations, and the greater were its numbers, the less internal union did it possess. Hence we can well conceive that a small army of Greeks, animated by patriotic valour, and commanded by generals possessed of a true tactical eye and genius, were able to oppose to the immense hosts of Persia a resistance, which, in a numerical point of view, appears almost incredible, and were even enabled to gain unexpected victories over their enemies. We can conceive too, how, in the time of Alexander the Great, three battles should have decided the fate of this great empire ; for its moral life and energy were gone, and the pillars of the state were completely decayed. The Persian empire lasted but for the short period of two hundred and twenty years, from its foundation by Cyrus, to the reign of the last Darius, whose personal character and fate leave such an affecting and tragical impression on our minds. The universal conquests of the Persians, rapid, but transient, -acted on the age with all the violence of the elemental powers of nature. Sudden and rapid, like a wind-storm, they invaded and subdued all other states and kingdoms :—the expedition of Xerxes into Greece was a real imundation of nations—and as the destructive fire, after blazing on high and desolating and consuming all things around, sinks quickly again—it was so with the Persian empire. The dominion of the Persians exerted no very permanent influence on those other nations whose civilisation was anterior to theirown. Egypt, in despite of the violent persecution which she sustained under Cambyses, remained still the ancient Egypt—and with yet greater fidelity did she cling to her ancient customs, under the milder sway of the Ptolemies, whose government was so much more congenial to her spirit and character. Phcenicia, Palestine, and Asia Minor, also remained essentially unchanged. !n an historical point of view, the main result of the Persian conquests was this—they brought the nations of Western Asia and of Egypt into a close contact, and a very active and permanent intercourse with the states of Greece, and those situated on the shores of the Mediterranean. The Persian dominion, and the contest HISTORY. o27 of that power with Greece, had indeed a very great, though only indirect, influence on the latter country, inasmuch as it favoured the growth and development of Grecian liberty, and at a later period produced the great reaction under Alexander the Great. This Greek re-action was, in its spirit and character, somewhat similar to the previous irruption and ambitious inva- sion of the Persians y in Alexander at least, we can clearly discover an Oriental spirit, that not content with the narrow boundaries of his hereditary kingdom of Macedon, sought to transcend the sphere of Hellenic civilisation, Hellenic doctrines, and Hellenic modes of thinking. And I call that an Asiatic enthusiasm which, with resistless impetuosity, bore away the Macedonian to the capital of Persia, and even beyond the banks of the Indus. ; BND OF LECTURE VA. 228 FUILLOSOPHY ov LECTURE VIII. Variety of Grecian Life and Intellect—State of Education and of the Fine Arts among the Greeks—The Origin of their Philosophy and Natural Science—Their Political Degeneracy. Ir would be difficult to point out a more striking difference, a more decided opposition in the whole circle of the intellectual and moral character and habits of nations, as far at least as the sphere of known history extends, than that .which exists between the seclusive and monotonous character of Asiatic mtellect—the generally unchangeable uniformity of Oriental manners and Oriental society, and the manifold activity—the varied life of the Greeks, in the first flourishing ages of their history. This amazing diversity in the moral and intellectual habits of the Greeks appears not only in their legislation, their forms of government, their manners, occupations, and usages of life, but in their various and widely dispersed settlements and colonies, in their descent, which was composed of so many heterogeneous elements, jn the first seeds of their civilisation —as well as their distribution into hostile tribes and great and petty states, and even in their traditions, their history, and the arts and forms of art to which those gave rise—finally, in a science, engaged in incessant strife, and marching from system to system, amid the noise and tumult of opposition. In Asia, even in those countries such as India, where the poetry, the views of life, and the systems of philosophy were extremely various, and bore in this respect an external resemblance to those of Greece; where even the country in ancient times was never permanently united into one compact empire; yet the whole way of thinking, the prevalent feeling, was entirely monarchical, proceeding from, and returning again to, un- changeable unity. On the other hand, in Greece, science, like life itself, was thoroughly republican—and if we mect with particular thinkers, who leaned to this Asiatic doctrir e of unitv HISTORY. | 299 we must regard this as only an exception—a system adopted from a love of change, or out of a spirit of opposition to the vulgar and generally received opinion that all in nature and the world, as well as in man, was in a state of perpetual move- ment, constant change, and freedom of life. Even the fabulous world of Grecian divinities, as it has been painted by their pocts, has a republican cast ; for there every thing is ina state of change, of successive renovation, and of mutual collision in the war of nature’s elements, in the hostility of old and new deities—of the superior and inferior gods—of giants and of heroes—presenting, as it does, a state of poetical anarchy. Hence, even the historical traditions of the Greeks, and the first accounts of their early seats, settlements, and the migrations of their different races, present to the eye of the historical inquirer a dense forest of truth and fiction, of fanciful conjecture, absolute fable, and ancient and venerable knowledge—a labyrinth of poetry and of history, in whose various and intricate mazes it is often difficult for the critic to find the true outlet, and to hold fast by the guiding clue of Ariadne, when he wishes to adopt a lucid arrangement, and assign to each part its due place in the system of the whole. The Greek tribes and nations inhabited not only the proper Greece, the Peloponnesian Peninsula, the contiguous islands, the southern plains of the Continent (on whose northern frontiers it is often difficult to draw the line of demarcation between the tribes of Greek and foreign extraction) ; and also the western coasts of Asia Minor; but they had founded a number of small states and planted many flourishing colonies in the remotest corners of the Euxine, in the Lower Egypt, where, long prior to the Persian wars, many Greek settlements existed—along the northern shore of Africa, where the flourishing: Cyrene was situated, on the southern coasts of Spain and Gaul, in Sicily, and throughout the whole of Southern Italy. ‘Their navigation extended even to the Baltic, as the voyage of Pytheas evinces ; and, though they did not cireum- _ navigate Africa,—a thing which it is still doubtful whether the Phoenicians accomplished,—they rather surpassed than yielded _to the latter nation in the activity of their trade, and the wealth and extent of their colonies. The stupendous monu- ments and edifices of the Egyptians are indeed of more colossal dimensions ; yet the works of Grecian sculpture and archi- 230 PHILOSOPHY OF tecture, while some of them are on a very large scale, aw incomparably more various, more rich in ornament, more animated, and beautiful, than those of Egypt. The Greeks were not a mere seafaring and commercial people like the Pheenicians; nor did they compete with the Egyptians in those proud monuments of architecture whose erection required such thousands of human hands; but they were from their earliest period a martial people, well trained to war. Independently _ of every feeling of patriotic enthusiasm and national defence, they looked on war as a trade and a living, and they loved it accordingly. This is proved by the fact that, in the age preceding the Persian conquest, and long before the Persians waged war with Greece, the kings of Egypt had not only Greek squadrons in their service, but that the whole Egyptian army was for the most part composed of Grecian mercenaries. Such, too, was the case ia Carthage, and, at a later period, in Persia, where whole legions and armies of Greeks were engaged in the service of the great king. This old custom among the Greeks of enlisting in the military service of foreign states, may have been indeed an excellent preparation for their great national wars, though in these the first great exploits were achieved by small companies of troops from Athens, Sparta, and other free states, as well as by a select body of free citizens. But this custom could have had no very favourable influence on national opinions and feelings, and the mutual relations of the Greek tribes and states, The republican form of government mostly prevailed in the various Greek settlements and colonies, established round the shores of the Mediterranean ; for it is to this species of govern- ment that maritime nations, commercial cities, and petty states almost always incline, as long as their territories remain cir- cumscribed. Yet in these states, we find a great variety of po- litical constitutions ; for along with that multitude of small commercial republics, there were many, like Sparta and others, that depended exclusively, or for the most part, on agriculture and the riches of the soil. In these, the hereditary nobility, the proprietors of the soil, formed the principal class ; for in general the Greeks attached a very high importance to the noble races and princely families that deduced their descent from the old heroic times. The original constitution of many, of almost the greator part of these small Greck republics, was a tolerably Deeks? eee * HISTORY. 231 mild aristocracy, headed by an hereditary prince, or chieftain, In some states, as for instance in Athens, the transition frorn this old aristocratical government, headed by an hereditary prince, to a thoroughly democratic constitution, was but slow and gradual; as the memory of their ancient kings, for ex- ample, of Codrus, who fell in the defence of his country, was ever cherished by the Athenian people with love and reverence. The popular hatred in Athens was directed only against those leaders of the state who, like Pisistratus, after having obtained their power by means of popular influence, sought to stretch und perpetuate it by foree of arms and the use of foreign mercenaries. Yet even Pisistratus possessed great qualities, and his sway was in gencral mild, and comformable to the laws of Solon ;—it cannot be denied, however, that this was an usurped authority, and one founded on illegitimate force. Ata later period, and when the Athenian state became more and more democratic—as there is not a more thankless being in all nature than the sovereign people, in its lawless and capricious rule, the people of Athens, jealous of their freedom, and too easily deluded by the arts of oratorical sophistry, pointed their hatred at all the great men and deserving citizens of the state. The general Miltiades perished in prison; Aristides the Just, Cimon and many others, fell the victims of ostracism, and died in exile, as did the great historians, Herodotus and ‘Thucydides. Themistocles himself, who had been the liberator of Athens and of Greece, was obliged to take refuge at the court of the Persian monarch, from whom he received protection and hospi- tality. The wisest of the Athenians, the master of Plato, who had ever proved himself an honest citizen and a valiant defender of his country, received the cup of poison for his recolpense. But we nowhere discover in the early ages of Athens, and of the other Greek republics, that hatred to kings and to royalty in general, which even the primitive history of Rome displays. Nay, in Sparta, amid a republican. constitution, the kingly power and dignity were preserved inviolate down to the latest period ; while in Macedon a new monarchy grew up, whice at first asserted a sort of protectorate over the other states, and at last established a very despotic ascendency over «il Greece. Even in those states where the constitution was iaate democratical, that is to say where it was founded. not on eaprserientie’s » NRL OTOL TES W Tr eamagte te rar ea net TRE Net RA RRR r = 232 PHILOSOPHY OF an hereditary nobility and the possession of the soil, but chiefly on moveable property, on trade, and manufactures, we must not look for that sort of arithmetical freedom and equality which exists in some modern republics, for instance, in the United States of America. The number of citizens really free, eligible, and possessed of the right of suffrage, was exceedingly small when compared with the bulk of the popula- tion—by far the greater part were not so, and a multitude of bought slaves, especially in the commercial states, was employed in manufactures, and in the tillage of the land. This univer- sally prevalent custom—the harsh treatment and oppression of slaves—forms a very painful contrast in the ancient republics, little corresponding to our own ideal of social happiness, and in itself very degrading to humanity. In the iterior and more aristocratic states, slavery assumed another shape—the remnant of the original inhabitants of the soil, that had. survived the conquest of their country, such as the Helots of Sparta, and the Penestz of Thessaly, were not merely reduced by the conquerors in their newly-founded governments to the condition of vassals, as we should term them, or even of serfs ; but were degraded to a state of absolute slavery, and gene- really treated with great severity. If we except this one cir- cumstance, the aristocracy, that ruled in most of the ancient republics of Greece, was, on the whole, tolerably well constituted ; a number of accessory circumstances had tended to soften its sway, and even in some instances it was ennobled by high worth. Ancestral manners and customs—the very smallness of the states—all tended to mitigate its rule—a wise legislation, like that of Solon, and of other lawgivers- animated by the same spirit, had at once consolidated and tempered its power ; while it was adorned by republican virtues, and many personal quali- ties in those elder and better times, ere the ancient simplicity of manners was yet totally corrupted. In most of the Greek republics, besides, commerce daily acquired greater influence and importance, and it was impos- sible in such a state of things that any rigidly exclusive aris- tocracy could have been formed, or could have long maintained its ascendency. Even the priesthood in Greece (for there was no danger of the political predominance of an heredi- tary sacerdotal caste, as in Egypt),—even the priesthood, by maintaining’ ancient manners, customs, and laws on whick NT TT FT TE ATI RS TT IT YORE eS RETIRE RV PCWP OAT EROS Pe aR . PP REP FC PRR TT RE ENERO SIRE TT i HISTORY. 228 _ indeed, their own existence depended, exerted a mild and be- neficial influence in the state ; for they at least formed a coun- terpoise to a mere selfish aristocracy, and sometimes opposed the last barrier to democratic tyranny. The mysteries, too, in particular, which, although they did not at a later period, as in their origin, diffuse a sounder morality than the popular mythology, yet certainly inculcated more serious doctrines, and more spiritual views of life, ex- erted, together with the Olympic and Isthmian games, a eentle, and on the whole, a very beneficial influence, and served as a bond cf connexion between the variously divided and discordant nations of Greece. Nay, these public and gym- - nastic games, which were celebrated in the festive poetry of the Greeks, served to knit more firmly the bond of national union, so exceedingly loose among this people; and many times, in a moment of danger, has the oracle of Delphi roused and-united all the sons of Hellas. These political decisions of the oracle were not false, so far at least as in these critical moments they gave no other counsel to the Greeks, but that cf patriotic courage, prudent firmness, and national concord. Widely dissimilar as were the Greek tribes and nations in their original seats and settlements, their occupations, and modes of living, their manners ana politica} institutions, they differed not less in the primitive elements of their civilisation. The Phee- nician Cadmus, according: to tradition, brought the alphabet, and with it, undoubtedly, many other elements of knowledge to the city of Thebes—the Egyptian Cecrops laid the ground-work of the old Athenian manners and government—the Thracian Orpheus, though his doctrines had much analogy to those of Egypt, founded the widely diffused mysteries that bore his name, while he sought by song to mitigate the terrors of the lower world, and to overcome the powers of darkness. To these many other names might be added; and among them many which did not deduce their descent, like most, indeed, from Phoenicia and Egypt, but are clearly to be traced, as well as the doc- trines and sacred customs they introduced, to the North ; and, _ though they sprang more immediately from Asiatics on the northern side of the Caucasus, they were nearly allied to the nations dwelling further towards the north and west. ' The profound and concurrent researches of many modern scholars have adduced such numerous and repeated proofs from 234 PHILOSOPHY OF antiquity, of the existence of this northern stratum in Gree‘ antiquities, that this branch of Grecian history, formerly neg- lected, must no longer pass unobserved. ‘The Greeks were of very various extraction ; and in the different countries of Greece we may distinguish, along with the Hellenes, two, if not more, principal nations, clearly distinct from the former. ‘These were the Thracians in the northern provinces, or at least in those immediately contiguous—a race for the most part of northern descent, and, together with the Indian, the most numerous on the earth, according to Herodotus— perhaps of the same origin with the nations on the banks of the Danube, or even those further northward. There were, next, the Pelasgi, the real aborigines of Greece, the authors of those gigantic walls and constructions, which are known in Italy by the name of Cyclopean, and in Greece by that of Pelasgic, and some of which still exist, besides several others that existed in the Pe- loponnesus, and which are mentioned by the ancients. These aborigines, or this primitive race of people, occur in many countries under the same, or at least, very similar, traits — to them we must ascribe those monuments of architecture we have just spoken of, a certain knowledge of metals, some rude religious rites, without any mythology, which was only of later origin, nay, without any names of specific divinities ; —human sacrifices—manners and customs, if not absolutely savage, still very rude and barbarous, and a constant restless- ness and disposition to roam. Deucalion alone is to be con- sidered as the ancestor of the Hellenes, as all the noble fami- lies of kings and heroes derived their descent from him, and the later tribes of Greece, the A®olians, the Dorians, and Jonians, took their names from his sons. According to every indication, this people would appear to be a Caucasian race of Asiaties, of Indian, or at least of a cognate, origin. When these Hellenes, ASolians, and Dorians, had taken possession of Thessaly, of the adjacent countries, and the Peloponnesus, and had there formed settlements, the Pelasgi were every- where dispossessed, or oppressed, and thrown into the back- ground, But they certainly were not entirely extirpated, nor did they emigrate in full numbers; and it is beyond a doubt that various causes contributed to unite the old and new inha- bitants of Greece; for here intermarriages were not entirely prohibited and rigidly prevented, as in India or Egypt, by the (LE OT TT REET | PY TOTTI FN RR IRR NE % ia " NET TN A RTT PT INR: 88 SER TPMT MT AE VTS RAN PS) NA” eI aD ET ENE RT PE RIN EN OTE HISTORY. 235 mstitution of castes; and the two nations were gradually formed into one race «nd one people, according as the circum stances or situation of one country or the other favoured such an union, And hence we can understand why Herodotus, for example, should have attributed to the lonians in particular much that was Pelasvic, as if under this new denomination they were in all essential points the ancient Pelasgi, or had mingled more with the latter, and were not of such a pure Hellenic race as the Dorians; for in other respects, the Pelasgi and Hellenes are represented as being originally two perfectly distinct nations, ‘The people of Thrace, too, although they continued as a separate nation to a much later period, un- doubtedly mingled considerably with the Hellenic tribes that inhabited the borders of Thrace, or that lived among the inha- bitants of that country. The primitive inhabitants of Greece were, in general, ex- tremely rude and barbarous in their manners and tenets; until. the noble race of Prometheus, the sons of Deucalion, who had ° come from the regions of Mount Caucasus, and colonies still more civilised that had emigrated from Pheenicia, Egypt, and other countries of Asia, exerted their beneficial influence, and gave by degrees an entirely new form and fashion to the people of Greece, and even to the country itself. For that region, which afterwards presented so beautiful an aspect, which was so richly endowed, and splendidly embellished by the hand of nature, was, until it had been well cultivated and fertilised, and until the power of boisterous elements had been subdued, a complete wilderness, and the scene of many violent revolutions of nature; which were very naturally considered as a sort of par- {ial and feeble imitation of the destructive and universal flood of elder times, when water was the all-prevailing element on the earth. In Greece there was an old obscure tradition, of the original existence of a continent called Lectonia, which occupied a portion of the subsequent Greek sea, and of which the islands form now the only existing remains; the rest of the continent having’ been sunk and destroyed, at the very time when the Black Sea, which had been originally connected with the Cas- pian, burst through the’ Bosphorus, and precipitated its waves “into the Mediterranean. At this very remote period, all Thes- saly was one vast lake, till, in a natural catastrophe of a similar 936 PHILOSOPHY OF kind, the river Peneus burst its way through a defile of rocks, and found an outlet into the sea. The lake Copais in Beotia in an inundation overflowed the whole cireumjacent flat country in the time of Ogyges; and thus the name and tradition of Ogyges served afterwards to designate the epoch of those early floods. At a later period, and whea the civilisation of the Greeks was more advanced, in the true flourishing era of their power and literature, the two principal races among this people, the Ionians and the Dorians, were completely opposed to each other in arts and manners, in government, modes of thinking, and even in philosophy. Athens was at the head of the Ionic race; Sparta took the lead in the Doric confederacy ; and this internal discord did not a little contribute towards the utter ruin of Greece, and towards the consummation of that internal and external anarchy that dragged all things into its abyss. Now that we enter upon that period when all the great po- litical events have been sufficiently described, and partly, at least, set forth with incomparable talent, by the great classical historians of antiquity; by a multitude of writers that have borrowed from that source, or have worked upon those lofty models ; it would be idle to repeat what is universally known, and to recount, in long historical detail, how, after contests and struggles of less importance, the glory of Greece burst forth in all its lustre in her resistance to Persian might; how, soon after, she exhausted her best strength in the great Pelo- ponnesian civil war betwixt Sparta and Athens, and how both those states ruined themselves in the idle ambition of maintain- ing the nyezoua as they called it, or the superiority and pre- ponderance in the political system of Greece;—how, after the short dominion of the Thebans under their single great man, Kpaminondas, the Macedonians became lords of the ascendant, and ruled for along time with despotic sway ;—and, finally, how Greece obtained an apparent freedom under the generous pro- tection of Rome, and was soon after reduced to a state of per- manent vassalage under her prefects and her legions :—this in- structive and, we may well say, eternal history, may be read, studied, and meditated on inall its ample details and living clear- ness in the pages of the great classical historians of antiquity. The knowledge of all these historical facts must be here pre-sup- posea, and I must confine myself to a rapid and lively sketch of ey TT TT TE NT eR een NTN 0 TP TE e-caRrrr arene ae AST RR Orme. enopatesntenlin meaiemsirane Yash sn mimemmuetioessetsnteenteshsamemnasnetshtsy se sitesi ronson cca anti rei LEAP ILA Ne ae et aU AEE Ne Ne ST i a os PL Ea Ce ieee aN «ENS oR ie Tac sale a pe 2 “a z SEER sient ae ae HISTORY. 237 the intellectual character and moral life of the Greeks, in their relation to the rest of mankind, and according to the place which they occupy in universal history. In this point of view, all that is universally interesting in the character, life, and intellect of the Greeks will be best and most easily classed under three categories. ‘The first is the divine in their system of art, or the mythology that was so closely interwoven with their traditions and their fictions, their whole arrangement of life, their customs, and political institutions ; and which so much excites our astonishment and admiration. The second is their science of nature—a science so natural to them, and which embraced all the objects of nature and the world, as well as of history, and even man himself, with the utmost clearness of perception, sagacity of intellect, and beauty and animation of expression—a science that, from its earliest in- fancy down to its complete perfection in the writings of Plato and Aristotle, has established the lasting glory of the Greeks, and has had a deep and abiding influence on the human mind, through all succeeding ages. The third and last category, in this por- trait of the Greek intellect and character, is the political rational- ism in Greece’s latter days, founded on those maxims and prin- ciples which had finally triumphed after the most violent con- test of parties, and under which the state was entirely swayed. by the arts of eloquence and the power of rhetoric, now become a real political authority in society. All that can be said truly to the honour of the ancient Greek states, and their republican virtues, has been briefly noticed above. ‘Their decay and gene- ral anarchy, and final subjugation by Rome, may be well ac- counted for by the decline of the Greek philosophy, and the consequent corruption of morals and doctrine—by that dominion of sophists, unparalleled at ieast in ancient history, whose pernicious art of a false rhetoric was the bane of public life, government, and all national greatness. | The marvellous and living mythology in the glorious old poetry of Greece justly occupies here the first place; for all arts, even the plastic arts, had their origin in this first Homeric source. And this fresh living stream of mythic fictions and heroic tra- ‘ditions which has flowed and continues to flow, through all ages and nations in the West, proves to us, by a mighty historical experience, which determines even the most dificult probletns (and this has been univerally acknowledged in Christian Europe) a: ET EE TTT TE TTT AGE LR TT NET RTT TA ‘ eI REE: OLE ERA INO en CDEEERe, 238 PHILOSOPHY Of that all classical education—all high intellectual refinement, is and should be grounded on poetry —that is to say, on a poetry which, like the Homeric, springs out of natural feelings and embraces the world with a clear, intuitive glance, For there can be no comprehensive culture of the human mind,—no high and harmonious development of its powers, and the various faculties of the soul,—unless all those deep feeling's of life, that mighty, productive energy of human uature, the marvellous imagination, be awakened and excited, and by that excitement and exertion, attain an expansive, noble, and beautiful form. This the experience of all ages has proved, and hence the glory of the Homeric poems, and of the whole intellectual refinement of the Greeks, which has thence sprung, has remained imperish- able. Were the mental culture of any people founded solely on a dead, cold, abstract science, to the exclusion of all poetry ; such a mere mathematical people—with minds thus sharpened and pointed by mathematical discipline, would and could never possess a rich and various intellectual existence ; nor even pro- bably ever attain to a living science, or a true science of life. The characteristic excellence of this Homeric poetry, and in general of all the Greek poetry, is that it observes a wise me- dium between the gigantic fictions of Oriental imagination, even as the purer creations of Indian fancy display ; and that distinctness of view, that broad knowledge and observation of the world, which distinguish the ages of prosaic narrative, when the relations of society become at once more refined and more complicated. In this poetry, these two opposite, and almost incompatible, qualities are blended and united—the fresh en- thusiasm of the most living feelings of nature—a blooming, fertile, and captivating fancy, and a clear intuitive perception of life, are joined with a delicacy of tact, a purity and harmony of taste, excluding all exaggeration—all false ornament—and which few nations since the Greeks, none perhaps in an equal degree, certainly none before them, have ever possessed to a like extent. This poetry was most intimately interwoven with the whole public life of the Greeks—the public spectacles, games, and popular festivals were so many theatres for poetry ; nay music and the gymnastic exercises were the ground-work, and formed almost the whole scope, of a high, polite, and liberal education among the Greeks. Both were so in a very wide, compre- STERNAL ON AN AMRIT TIA HISTORY. 239 . hensive, and significant sense of the term. The gymnastic . struggles, the peculiar object of the public games, and where the human frame attained a beautiful form and expansion by every species of exercise—the gymnastic struggles had a very close connexion with, and may be said to have formed the basis for, the imitative arts, especially sculpture, which, without that habitual contemplation of the most exquisite forms - afforded by these games, could never have acquired so bold, free, and animated a representation of the human _ body. Music, or the art of the Muses, included not only the art of melody, but the poetry of song. Still the plan of Grecian education and relinement was ever of too narrow and exclusive -acharacter ; and when at a later period, rhetoric came to form one of its elements, the Greeks considered it (what indeed it never should be considered) as a sort of gymnastic exercise for the intellect, a species of public spectacle, where eloquence, little solicitous about the truth, only sought to display its art or address in the combat. And in the same way philosophy, when the Grecks attained a knowledge of it, came to be re- garded, according to the narrow and exclusive principles of their system of education, as nothing more than a species of intellectual melody, the internal harmony of thought and mind—the music of the soul; till later, by means of the sophists, and popular sycophants that deluded their age, it sunk into the all-destructive abyss of false rhetoric, which was the death of true science and genuine art, and which, in the shape of logic and metaphysics, had as injurious an influence on the schools as a false and political eloquence had on the state and on public life. That principle of harmony which formed the leading tenet of the primitive vhilosophy of Greece before the introduction of sophistry, was not an ignoble—it was even a beautiful, idea, although it might be far from solving the high problems and questions of philosophy, or satisfying the deeper inquiries of the human mind. | It was from these public games, popular festivals, and great poctical exhibitions, which had such a mighty and important influence on the whole public life of the Greeks, and which served to knit so strongly the bonds of the Hellenic confe- deracy, that, by means of the odes, specifically designed for such occasions, the theatre, and the whole dramatic art of the Greeks, derived their origin. This poetry, which is less geue. 240 PHILOSOPHY 0? rally intelligible to other nations and times than the Homeric poems, because it enters more deeply into the individual life of the Greeks, does not display less invention, sublimity, and depth of art, from that ideal beauty which pervades its whole character, and from its lofty tone of feeling. Even the Doric odes of Pindar, amid their milder beauties, rise often to the tragic grandeur of the succeeding poets, or to the comprelien- sive and epic fulness of the old Mwonian bard. No nation has as yet been able to equal the charm and ame- nity of Homer, the elevation of ZEschylus, and the noble beauty of Sophocles ; and perhaps it is wrong even to aspire to their excellence, for true beauty and true sublimity can never be ac- quired in the path of imitation. Euripides, who lived in the times when rhetoric was predominant, is ranked with the great poets we have named by such critics only, as are unable to comprehend and appreciate the whole elevation of Grecian in- tellect, and to discern its peculiar and characteristic depth. It is worthy of remark, as it serves to show the general propensity of Grecian intellect for the boldest contrasts, that these loftiest productions of tragedy, and which have retained that character of unrivalled excellence through all succeeding ages, were ac- companied by the old popular comedy which, while its inven- tive fancy dealt in the boldest fictions of mythology, and in the humorous exhibitions of the gods, made it its peculiar business to fasten on all the follies of ordinary life and to exhibit them to public ridicule without the least reserve. That the sensual worship of nature, the basis of all heathen- ism, and more particularly so of the Greek idolatry, must have had a very prejudicial influence on Greek morals ; that the want of a solid system of ethics, founded on God and divine truth, must have given rise to great corruption even in a more simple period of society ; and that this already prevalent cor- ruption must have increased to a frightful extent in the general degradation of the state—is a matter evident of itself; and it would be no diflicult task to draw from the pages of the popu- lar comedy we have just spoken of, and from other sources, a terrific picture of the moral habits of the Greeks. Yet I know not whether such a description would be necessary, or even advantageous, for the purpose of this philosophy of history—the more so, as it would not be difficult to draw from similar sources ef immorality, and from the now usual statistics of vice amd ELT TTI BRET REPRE Ta IES 8 TE PRA, ee ee ean HISTORY. 24% crime, a sketch of the moral condition of one or more Christian aations, that would by no means accord with the pre-conceived uotion of the great moral superiority of modern times. We may thus the more willingly rest contented with a general acknowledgement of the great moral depravity of mankind, which exists wherever mighty powers and strong motives of a superior order do not counteract it, and which must have broken out more conspicuously there where, as among’ the Greeks, the prevailing religion was a paganism that promoted and sanctioned sensuality. In regard to the poetry and plastic arts of the Greeks, it must even strike us as a matter of asto- nishment that it is in comparatively but few passages, and few works, this pagan sensuality appears in a manner hurtful to dignity of style and harmony of expression. It would not at least have surprised us had this defect been oftener apparent, when we consider the doctrines and views of life generally pre- valent in antiquity ; for it was, in most cases, less the sterner dictates of morality that prevented the recurrence of this defect than an exquisite sense of propriety, which even in art is the out- ward drapery that girds and sets off beauty. Besides a mere conventional concealment cannot be imposed as a law on the art of sculpture ; ; our moral feelings are much less offended by the representation of nudity in the pure noble style of the best antiques, than by the disguised sensuality which marks many spurious productions of modern art. In poetry and in art, at least in the elder and flourishing period, the Greeks have, for the most part, attained to internal harmony —in philosophy they were much less fortunate—and least of all in public life, which was almost always distracted, and at last utterly jarring, dissonant, and ruinous. I called the science of the Greeks a natural science, and in this quality, which it possessed in so eminent a degree, it affords us the highest instruction, and is of itself extremely interesting .. for in its origin, this science proceeded chiefly, almost exclusively, from nature—pursued a sequestered and solitary path—a stranger to poetry and mythology which was there predominant, far removed from public and political life—and often even in an attitude of hostility towards the state. The physical sciences, and particularly natural history, were created by the Greeks— so was the science of medicine, in which Hippocrates is still tonoured as the greatest master; and geometry and the ancient | erin 242 PHILOSOPHY OF system of astrononiy were handed down to posterity, conside- rably enlarged and improved by the labours of the Greeks. In the second place, Grecian science may be denominated a natural science, because, as it directed its attention successively to the various objects of the world, of life, and to man himself, it ever took a thoroughly natural view of all things, and even in self- knowledge, in practical life, and in history, sought to seize and comprehend the nature of man, and to unfold the character of his being, with the utmost precision of language, and according to conceptions derived exclusively from life. Thus when Plato and his followers direct their philosophical inquiries to objects lying beyond, and far exalted above, the sphere of nature and real life, we must regard these inquiries as exceptions from the ordinary practice of Grecian intellect, and from the ruling spirit of its speculations; in the same way as the expeditions of Alex- ander the Great form an exception from the usual routine of Grecian polities. Lastly, Grecian science may be denominated a natural science, because philosophy, founded on the old basis of poetry and classical culture, allied to history, and the lan- guage and symbols of tradition, assumed in general a form clear, beautiful, animated, and eminently conformable to nature and the mind of man; and however much this philosophy may at times have been lost and bewildered in the void of a false dialectic, it still never perished in the petrifying chill of abstract speculations. And even Plato, though his philosophy so far transcended the ordinary sphere of Grecian intellect, had been well nurtured in Hellenic eloquence, art, and culture—and, in all these, was himself the greatest master. With this profound and lofty feeling for nature, did the early philosophers of Greece, who were chiefly Ionians, like Thales, Anaximenes, and Heraclitus, consider respectively water, air, and fire, as the primary powers of nature and of all things; and it was only Anaxayoras, the master of Socrates, who first clearly expounded the nature of that supreme and divine intel- ligence which created nature and reculates the world. Prior to this plulosopher, Heraclitus had asserted this doctrine, per- haps with greater purity—certainly with more depth and pene- tration; but in his obscure writings it is less intelligioly ex- pressed. With his supreme intelligence in nature, Anaxagoras conjoined the ovoropepea, that is to say, not the real atoms of 2 lifeless matter, but rather the animated substance of material - HISTORY. 243 life. Thus his doctrine was a simple system of dualism, quite in harmony, it would seem, with the feclings of those early ages, as we have noticed a similar system in the history of Indian philosophy. These old Ionian philosophers in gencra] regarded only the internal life in nature and all existence — the constant change and endless vicissitude in the world and in all things; and hence many of them began to doubt, and at last finally denied, the existence of any thing steadfast and en- during. According to that law and march of contrast, which Grecian intellect, whether consciously or unconsciously, invari- ably pursued, these Ionian philosophers were now opposed by the school of Parmenides, which inculeated the doctrine of au all-pervading unity—and taught that this principle was the first and last, the sole, true, permanent, and eternal Being, Although this system was at first propounded in verse, it was by no means, in its essential and ruling spirit, a poetical panthcism, like that of the Indians—but more congenial with the intellectual habits of the Greeks, it was a pantheism thoroughly dialectic, which at first regarded all change as an illusion and idle phe- nomenon, and at last positively denied the possibility of change. Between these two extreme schools appeared the great dis- ciple of Socrates, who sought, by a path of inquiry completely new, completely foreign to the Grecks—by a range of specu- lation which soared far above the world of sense, and outward experience, as well as above mere logic, to return to the supreme Godhead, infinitely exalted above all nature—deriving the notion of the Deity from immediate intuition, primeval revelation, or profound internal reminiscence. By this doctrine of reminiscence, which is the fundamental tenet of the Platonic system, this philosophy has a strong coincidence or affinity with the Indian doctrine of the metempsychosis, by the supposition it involves of the prior existence of the human soul. ‘To such a notion of the pre-existence of the soul, in the literal sense of the term, no system of Christian philosophy could easily sub- scribe. But. if, as there is no reason to prevent us, we should understand this Platonic notion of reminiscence in a more spiritual sense—as the awakening or resuscitation of the con- sciousness of the divine image implanted in our souls—as the soul’s perception of that image; this theory would then per- fectly coincide with the Christian doctrine cf the divine image originally stamped on the- human soul, and of the internal illue. a2 244 PHILOSOPHY OF mination of the soul by the renovation of that image; and hence we ought in no way to be astonished that this Platonic mode of thinking—for such it is rather than any exclusive system, as it is the first great philosophy of revelation clothed and propounded in an Kuropean form—should have ever ap- peared so captivating to the profound thinkers of Christianity. In Plato's time, that host of sophists who had sprung out of the dialectic contests of the earlier philosophy, out of its rejec- tion and disbelief of every thing permanent, immutable, and eternal in nature, in life, and in knowledge, as well as out of the democratic spirit of the age, and the ever-prevailing immo- rality—in Plato’s time, that host of sophists completely bewil- dered and confused the public mind, poisoned all principle and morality in their very source, and accomplished the ruin of society in Greece in general, and in Athens in particular, And the masterly portrait which Plato has given us of these sophists exhibits well this race, and the pernicious influence they exerted over Grecian intellect, and the whole circle of Grecian states ; and this political influence of the sophists forms the third epoch in the history of Greece, which, by means of these popular sycophants, became daily more and more democratic, till at last it perished in anarchy. The more ancient philosophers of Greece lived almost all ina state of retirement from public life, taking no part in political affairs, or evincing very evident sentiments of hostility to the governments and republics of their native country. ‘They were almost all unfriendly to the prevailing principles of democracy ; and the ideal governments, which they, as well as Plato, have sketched, were all in the spirit of a very rigid aristocracy of virtue and law—evincing a very marked predilection for that form of government as it existed, though in a state of great degeneracy, among the Doric Greeks. Long before Plato, the Pythagoreans had inculcated doctrines perfectly similar, or at least of a very kindred nature ; and with the view and purpose of introducing their principles into public life, by which un- doubtedly the governments and the whole frame of society in Greece, as well as the whole system of Grecian thought, would have assumed a totally new and different shape. But before the Pythagorean confederacy, which was so widely diffused through the Greek states of Southern Italy, was able to accom- push its design. the violent re-action of an opposite varty of PITRE IORI STE LP ree, Ts sa anata animaniannmaninait eas iamiaitadiiei ial HISTORY. 245 thinkers: destroyed it, or at least deprived it of all ascendency and political iriiethce! The age of Aristotle concurred with that of the Macedonian sway to terminate anarchy of every kind. ‘To the old evil of a false dialectic, which had become an inveterate habit, and, as it were, asccond nature to Grecian intellect, he endeavoured to oppose his ample aud substantial logic; and this must be regarded not so much as a wonderful organum, a living and —never-failing source of scientific truth,-but rather as a remedy for that disease of a false, sophistical rhetoric, so prevalent in his own age, and the one immediately preceding—and which had br ought about the ruin of all truths, and an universal anarchy of doctrines, even in practical life. With a perspica- cious, penetrative, and comprehensive intellect, he has reduced all the philosophic, and all the historical science of preceding ages and of his own time, to a clear, well-ordered system, for the ample instruction of posterity:—in both these sciences, as well as iu natural history, he has remained, down to the latest time, the master-guide. In those parts of his philosophy which hie between this natural science and the old dialectic contests, “in its primary ¢ and fundamental principles, the system of Aris- totle, when rightly understood, contains much that leads to the most dangerous errors, especially in his notion of Ged: though we cannot with justice impute to him the abuse which has been made of his philosophy in subsequent ages. Notwithstanding the many excellent things which are to ‘be found in the Ethics of Aristotle, considered merely as an effort of unassisted reason ; yet in all Diet inquiries after a higher truth—after the ia notion of the divine which, in the dldes philosophy of nature, was so imperfectly understood, and which in the consummate rationalism of Aristotle was completely misapprehended—in all these important inquiries, the Stagyrite is far from being such a guide as Plato; and his philosophy is not like the Platonic, a scientific introduction to the Christian revelation, and to the knowledge of divine truths, The later systems _ of philosophy among the Greeks were, with some slight variations of form, mere repetitions, often only mere combinations and com- pilations, of the ancient philosophy; or they exhibited a thorough degeneracy of science and intellect; asin the atomical . system of Epicurus, which even on life aa morals had an atomical influence. 00 ese Das BOR PRLIC AP SERT A NERO OTR SA PAE RE Dna AE A RP FIO ay 5 PT LITE LENTIS CERI 246 PHILOSOPHY OF The Greek states have long since disappeared from the face of the earth—the republics, as well as the Macedonian kingdoms founded by Alexander, have long since ceased to exist. Many . centuries—near two thousand years, have elapsed, since a ves- tige remained of that ancient greatness and transitory power. If the celebrated battles and other mighty events of those ages aze still known to us; if they still excite m us a lively interest, it is principally because they have been delineated with such incomparable beauty, such instructive interest, by the great classical writers. It is not the republican governments of Greece, nor the brief and fleeting period of Grecian liberty, which was so soon succeeded by civil war and anarchy—it is not the universal empire of Macedon, which was but of short duration, and was soon swallowed up in the Roman or Parthian domination—it is not these tnat mark out the place which Greece occuyes in the great whole of universal history, nor the mighty and important part she has had in the civilisation of mankind, The share allotted to her was the light of science in its most ample extent, and in all the clear brilliance of exposi- tion which it could derive from art. It is in this intellectual sphere only that the Greeks have been gifted with extraordinary power, and have exerted a mighty influence on after-ages. Plato and Aristotle, tar more than Leoniaas and Alexander the Great, contain nearly the sum and essence of all truly perma- nent and influential which the Greeks have bequeathed to pos- terity. It is evident that I include under these great names the whole classical culture which formed the basis of this Greek science—the general refinement of minds—the fine arts, and above all, the glorious old poetry of Greece. We have to men- tion another department of Greek science, wherein from its natural clearness and liveliness, its profound observation of man, the most eminent success was attained. And the pre- eminence consists in this—that historical art, as well as histo- rical research, was originated by the Greeks, and that both have attained a degree of perfection which has been almost ever unknown to the Asiatic nations, and which even the moderns have only imitated by degrees upon the great models of anti- quity, The father of history, Herodotus, has not been without reason compared to Homer, on account of his manifold charms, and the clearness and fulness of his narrative. We remain in utter astonishment when we reflect on the depth and extent of Re eNt RST ese Testa ee HISTORY. 247 his knowledge, researches, inquiries, and remarks on the his- tory and antiquities of the various nations of the earth, and of mankind in general. The deeper and more comprehensive the researches of the moderns have been on ancient history, the more have their regard and esteem for Herodotus increased. the latter classical historians display much rhetoric ; but this was natural, when we consider what a mighty purer: rhetoric exerted on ‘public life, and that it had become an all-ruling power in the state. This false rhetoric, that idle pomp of words, the death of all genuine poetry and higher art, as the endless strifes of a false dialectic are the ruin of all sane and legitimate science, of all precision of intellect, and soundness of judgment—this false rhetoric, by the exclusively sophistical turn which it gave to the public mind and public opinion, acce- lerated the downfal of government, and of all public virtues in Greece. The third category or sphere of Grecian intellect and Grecian life which I designated after that of divine art, and natu- ral science, and the varied knowledge of man, was political rationalism.* have used that expression, chiefly in reference to the later ages of the Greek republics, as it is the quality which eminently distinguished them from the Asiatic states, and those of modern Europe. | In the later ages of Athens, and of the other democratic states, the rationalist principles of freedom and equality were the’ sole prevailing and recognised maxims of government. Considered in this historical point of view, the chief difference between the two principal forms of government consists in this —that the republic is, or at least tends to be, the government of reason 3; while monarchy i is founded on the higher principles of faith and love. But the distinction lies rather in the ruling — spirit, the moral principle which animates these two govern- ments, than in their mere outward form. Republics which are founded on ancient laws and customs, on hereditary rights, and usages, on faith in the sanctity of hereditary right, on attach- ment to ancestral manners (as was undoubtedly the case with ‘the Greek republics in the early ages of their history), such states, so far from being ANS, to the true spirit of monarchy, * In the German, Vernunfesteals the government of reason. eo amikhnimmenaanmenian eae ciaees) RETR ATRL LIL SEES IOI IGT TR BB A BT RS 248 PHILOSOPHY OF are, to all essential purposes, of a kindred nature withit. Such, too, are those happy republics which, content with the narrow limits of their power and existence, at peace with other states, devoid of ambition, firmly wedded to their ancient rites and customs, figure but little on the arena of history, and occupy but small space in the columns of the gazetteer. In a mo- narchy, attachment to the hereditary sovereign and to the royal dynasty is the corner-stone and the firmest pillar of the state— whole provinces may be conquered, and important battles may be lost ; but while this foundation of love remains unshaken—while this principle is in active operation, the edifice of the state will stand unmoved. The next foundation of monarchy is faith in ancient rights— in the heritage of ancestral customs and privileges, according to the several relations of the different classes of the state ; and we should beware, in a monarchical government, not to touch o1 violate with an incautious hand, or change without necessity, hereditary rights and usages which time has consecrated, for such heedless changes shake the very foundations of the social edifice, When a monarchy is founded on a written contract (whether it be intended as a sort of treaty of peace, with some party aspiring to dominion in the state, or be only the suc- cessful experiment of some scientific theory of political ration- alism), such a government, though it may preserve the outward form, has ceased, in al] essential points. to be a monarchy ac- cording to the old accentation or the term. An absolute go- vernment, whatever snape it may assume, whether it take the form of republicanism, and adopt the rationalist principles of freedom and equality—principles which in the nature of things, and according to the very constitution of human reason, are almost ever inseparable from a spirit of progressive encroach- ment in foreign policy (as is sufficiently proved by the inordinate ambition, the insatiable thirst of power which distinguished the great republics of antiquity, in proportion as they became more democratic, and more a prey to anarchy), or whether the abso- lute government assume the lawless and illegitimate sway of a military despotism—such a government may indeed be esta- blished in a sort of equipoise, circumscribed within tolerably rea- sonable limits, and preserved at least in its physical existence y means of such a written compact as we have spoken of above. PEEP T LIN LRTI I ENA TE 7 eae Sea eee. an tee aT urt aaa P PEM ST SETI Sg HISTORY. 249 But the old Christian state—the state whieh is founded in faith and love—can be renovated and re-established, not by the mere dead etter of any theory, though it should contain nothing but the pure dogmatic truth—but by faith—by love—by the re- ween energy of all the great fundamental principles of moral Lie | END OF LECTURE VIII. Qo0Rr PHILOSOPHY OF LECTURE IX. Character of the Romans—Sketch of their Conquests—On strict Law, and the Law of Equity in its application to History, and according to the Idea of Divine Justice—Commencement of the Christian Dis- pensation. InsTEAD of that astonishing variety in the states, the races, the political constitutions, the manners, styles of art, and modes of intellectual cultivation, which divided from its very origin the social. existence of Greece—a division which gave a more rich and diversified aspect to Greek civilisation—the ancient history of Italy shows us, on the contrary, how every thing merged more and more in the one, eternal, imperishable, ever-prospe- rous, ever-progressive, and at last all-devouring, city—Rome. The first ages, indeed, of Italy—the primitive nations that settledin that country—suchasthePelasgi, whose early historical existence is attested by those Cyclopean, or more properly, Pelasgic walls and constructions still extant there—the Ktruscans (according to some authors, descended from the more northern race of Rheetians), from whom the Romans borrowed so many of their idolatrous rites and customs—the Sabines and Samnites, the. Latins and the Trojans—lastly, the Celts in northern, and the Greeks in southern, Italy—all in their several rela- tions to one another, and in the various commixture of their origin and progress, open a wide field of intricate investiga- tion and perplexing research to the historical inquirer. But from the general point of view taken in universal history, all this antiquarian learning soon falls into the background, in the presence of that great central city which quickly absorbs into itself all the ancient states of Italy, and Italy itself, and which, though originally composed of many heteroreneous elements—Latin, Sabine, and Etruscan—still was very earl moulded into an unity of character—and whose ulterior re and progress, slow indeed at first, but soon as fearfully rapid a Sarl a Ts US uc die AE aes gs Pe SES SUTRAS eR eT RB OT PY SST ENT SE EY FONT TY NR Oe Ly ney y RTT ET EET TITS EO ee SONS NE etme RY SILT SET SE EY YORE Et a IRIE TT SPT No, ane la is cae aia PIE NT TI PI BER OE ODE TET I EN “HISTORY. | 251 it was immeasurably great, principally attracts the notice of the historical observer. In thie later, and still more in the early, ages of Rome, the national idolatry was less poetically wrought and adorned than that of the Greeks—it was altogether much simpler, ruder, and more serious than the latter. Even the word religio, to take it in its first signification as a second tie, corresponds to a far more definite and serious object than can be found in the gay mythology of the popular religion of the Greeks. Idolatrous rites were closely interwoven into the whole life of the ancient Romans. As the twins of Mars, Romulus and Remus, who were suckled by the she-wolf, were called the founders of the city; so Mars himself was honoured by the Romans as their real progenitor, and principal national divinity —particulariy under the name of Gradivus, that is to say, the swift for battle, or the strider of the earth. The sacred shields of brass which, on certain appointed festivals, were borne in the military dances, the Palladium, the sceptre of the venerable Priam, formed, together with similar relics of antiquity, the seven holy pledges of the eternal duration and ever-flourishing increase of the seven-hilled city, which was honoured under three different names; one whereof was ever kept secret, while the other two referred to its blooming strength and ever-en- during power. ‘The ancient cities of the Greeks, those of the Italian nations, whether akin to them, or otherwise, possessed, indeed, their tutelary deities, their particular sanctuaries, their highly revered Palladium, some ancient oracles, and certain religious rites and festivals consecrated to their honour. But it would not be easy to find another example where the tra- ditionary reverence, we might almost say, the old hereditary deification of the city, had, from the earliest period, taken such deep root in the minds of men; and where such a formal worship was so intimately interwoven with manners, customs, and even maxims of state, as among the Romans. And when an universal monarchy had sprung out from this single city, it was still that city—it was still eternal Rome that was ever re- garded, not merely a3 the centre, but as the essence of the whole—the personifie? conception of the state—the grand idea of the empire. The early traditions of the Romans which, though from the commencement of the city they assume the garb of authentic history (as in the pages of Livy for instance), yet ara for a long time to be regarded mostly as mere traditions,— 252 PHILOSOPHY OF evince a fact well entitled to our consideration,—as it serves te show how that strong, inflexible, but harsh, Roman character, such as the later records of history display, manifested itself even in the earliest infancy of this people ;— it is this, that among no other nation, did historical recollections even of the remotest antiquity exert such a powerful influence on life, or strike so deep a root in the minds of men. Nearly five hundred years had elapsed since the time of the elder Brutus, when, in the Roman world now so mightily changed, a citizen appealed to the second Brutus in these words—* Brutus, thou sleepest”—as if to urge him to that deed which the first had perpetrated on the proud Tarquin, and by which that celebrated name had become iden- dified with the idea of a bold deliverer. An ardent hatred towards all kings, and towards royalty itself, which from that period remained ever deeply fixed in the Roman mind, charac- terised this people even in the most ancient period of their his- tory. Not only in the remarks and reflections of the later Roman historians on the first aves of Rome, but in facts them- selves, as in the case of Spurius Cassius, we may trace the natural concomitant of this hatred—a passionate jealousy of all powerful party-chiefs, and democratic leaders, who were perhaps suspected, or probably convicted, of aspiring to supreme power in the state, and aiming at the establishment of tyranny—asif the Romans even then had a clear presentiment of the inevitable fate that awaited an empire like theirs, and of the quarter whence their ruin would proceed. Even in the first ages, the Patricians and Plebeians appear on the Iistorical arena, not only as separate _elasses, such as existed in almost all ancient states, and between whom no matrimonial ties could be formed originally at Rome ; but as political parties, in a state of mutual hostility, each of which strove to obtain the ascendency in the forum and in the state. The ald Romans of these early times were strangers to those various systems of legislation, those rhetorical treatises of juris- prudence, conceived mostly on demoeratie principles, or to those opposite political theories composed in an aristocratic spirit, which the Greeks then possessed in such abundance. On the contrary, the Romans manifested even then, in the primitive period of their existence, a deep, perspicacious, practical sense, anda mighty political instinct, which showed itself in their first institutions of state. Even in the first idea of the Tribunate— ee est tle hake mh ecient ne tea ok ar hci hk ca a oe come TORIES DIR a eh ERNIE IROL MEM 22 ASE NTN NTR OTE SNES - rien seston Craig eae! HISTORY. 253 as a regular rnode of popular representation, an element of opposition introduced into. the very constitution of the state— there was contained the germ of that mighty political power and action, which afterwards a man of energetic character, like Tiberius Gracchus, knew how to exert. ‘This power, had it been kept within due limits, might have proved most beneficial to the community ; anda single man, endowed with such a character, and animated by the same spirit of a true patriotic opposition, lias often accomplished more at Rome, than whole parliaments in modern free states. The authority of the Censor, negative and restrictive in itself, but still not merely judicial—and which over the conduct of persons was very extensive—the excep- tional institution of the Dictatorship, in the early ages of Rome by no means so dangerous—were so many just, and practical political discoveries of the Romans, which evince their states- man-like genius, and which even in later times, among other nations, and under various forms, have served as real and effec- tual elements in the constitution of states. The interest of those two parties—the Plebcians and the Patricians—concurred fully but in one pomt—the desire which both had of constantly invading the neighbouring nations, and obtaining landed possessions for themselves in the conquests they made for the state. The Plebeians ever and again cherished the hope of being able to obtain for their profit, and that of the poorer citizens, a sort of distribution of the state-lands won in war. But as the Patricians were mostly invested with all the high offices and dignities in war as well as peace, they knew how to turn all the opportunities of conquest to their best advantage, however much they might on particular occasions postpone their private interests as individuals to the general interests of the state. Although, so long as their ancient prin- ciples remained unchanged, the Romans were distinguished for the utmost disinterestedness in regard to their country, and for great simplicity of manners, and even frugality in private life, they were in all their foreign enterprises, even in the. earliest times, exceedingly covetous of gain, or rather of land ; for it was in land, and the produce of the soil, that their prin- cipal, and almost only wealth consisted. The old Romans were a thoroughly agricultural people; and it was only at a later period that commerce, trades and arts were introduced among them and even then they occupied but a subordinate place. . 254 PHILOSOPHY OF Agriculture was even highly honoured by the Romans; and while almost all the celebrated, and, in general, most of the proper, names among the Greeks were derived from gods and heroes, and had a poetical lustre, and glorious significancy, it is 2 circumstance characteristic of the Romans, that the names of many of their most distinguished families, such as Fabius, Lentulus, Piso, Cicero, and many others, were taken from agri- culture and from vegetables; while others again, as Secundus, Quintus, Septimus, and Octavius, are tolerably prosaic, and are derived from the numbers of the old popular reckoning. The science of agriculture forms one of the few subjects on which the Romans produced writers truly original. That of juris- prudence, in which they were most at home, which they culti- vated with peculiar care, and which they very considerably enlarged, had its foundation in the written laws of the primi- tive period of their history; and in their elder jurisprudence, the Agrarian system very evidently prevails. As a robust, agricultural people, they were eminently fitted for military ser- vice ; and in practised vigour, and constancy under every pri- vation, the Roman infantry, with the vigorous masses of its legion, surpassed all military bodies that have ever been or- ganised. The Roman state from its origin, and according to its first constitution, was nothing else than a well-organised school of war, a permanent establishment for conquest. Among’ other — nations, as among the Persians and Greeks, the desire of mili- tary glory and the lust of conquest was only a temporary en- thusiasm, called forth by some special cause, or some mighty motive—a sudden sally—the thought of a moment. Among the Romans it is precisely the systematically slow and progres- sive march of their first conquests, their inflexible perseverance, their unremitting activity, the vigilant use of every advan- tageous opportunity, which strike the okserver, and explain the cause of their mighty success in after-times. That unshaken constancy under misfortune, which ever characterised the Ro- mans, they displayed even at this early period, during the con- quest of their city by the Gauls; though this misfortune, like that people itself, was but a transient calamity. In general, the Romans never evinced greater energy than when they were overcome, or when they met with an unexpected resistance. Sometimes, in a moment of extreme urgency, their generals, RR LE NTRS SE 8 REY OT REE RN ERP eae x ENTE EI OE L TT TT OTE RRO: SES 2 NE FeRRRR Pe CRD aE TERE PRP EAPO RONEN ET TSH CP ESE Se ete, Rae LY eS HISTORY. 255 like the Consul Decius Mus, taking a chosen body of troops, invoked the national gods, devoted themselves to death, and rushed on the superior forees of the enemy, whereby, though they fell the yictims of their zeal, they saved the army from the menaced ignominy of defeat, and achieved a signal victory. With such a character, such unshaken fortitude and perse- verance under misfortune, we can well conceive that in a state so constituted like theirs, the Romans, by their indefatigable activity in war, should in no very great space of time have con- quered and subdued all the surrounding nations and states of Italy. It was thus they successively overcame the kindred and confederated tribes of Latium, and the rude Sabines; that, after a long and obstinate siege of the Tuscan city of Veii, they became masters.of the Etrurian league, lords of the beau- tiful Campania, and vanquished the warlike Samnites on the Apennine range, and on the coast of the Adriatic, They now cast their eyes on the rich provinces of Magna Grecia. In the war against Tarentum, which was in alliance with Pyrrhus, King of Epirus, they came for the first time in contact with the great extra-Italic Greek powers, and had to encounter, in the ranks of the enemy, the unwonted spectacle of war-ele- phants, which were there employed according to the Asiatic custom. After the loss of the first battles, they were victo- rious; and they now added Apulia and Calabria to their con- quests. [ach step in the career of victory drew after it new embarrassments, new occasions, and new matter for future wars. The inhabitants of Syracuse, who had been for some time governed by tyrants, formed, on the retreat of Pyrrhus, an alliance with the Carthaginians, then masters of half of Sicily, and sought their protection against the Romans, who were confederated with their enemies, another party in the island. , This brought on the first Punic war with that republic, then mistress of the sea. In this warfare against Pyrrhus and the Carthaginians, the Romans, who had been hitherto con- fined within the secluded circle of the petty states of Italy, appeared for the first time on the great historical theatre of the then political world. .In that age which was immediately sub- sequent to the time of Alexander the Great, the different Ma- cedonian and other Greek powers of importance formed, toge- ther with Egypt and Carthage, a variously connected system of states, in one respect not unlike the political system of mo- 256 . PHILOSOPHY OP dern Europe, at the end of the seventeenth and during the greater part of the eighteenth century. For, according to a principle of the balance of power, each state sought to strengthen itself by alliances, and to repress an overwhelming ascendency, without on that account at all relaxing its efforts for its own aggrandisement. That on one hand, the fluc- tuating condition and internal troubles of those countries, and on the other, the fresh youthful vigour, the steady perseverance and constancy of the Roman people, would soon put an end to this system of equilibrium, to these political oscillations be- tween the different states, and bring about the complete tri- umph and decided ascendancy of the Romans, might, indeed, have been easily foreseen, and was in the very nature of things. After the first Punic war, the Romans to the conquest of Sicily added that of Corsica, and Sardinia; and they next subdued the Cisalpine Gauls in the North of Italy. When even Han- nibal, the most formidable enemy the Roman republic ever had to encounter, and the one who had the most deeply studied its true character, and the danger threatening the world from that quarter; when even he, after the many great victories which, in a long series of years, he had obtained over the Romans, in the second Punic war; though he shook the power, was unable to break the spirit of this people;—when this was the case, one might regard the great political question of the then civilised world as settled; and it could no longer be a matter of doubt that that city, justly denominated Strength, and which, even from of old had been the idol of her sons (who accounted every thing as nought in comparison with her interests); that that city, I say, was destined to conquer the world, and establish an empire, the like whereof had never yet been founded by pre- ceding conquerors. The second Punic war terminated under the elder Scipio before the walls of Carthage, and it completed the destruction of that rival of Rome, at least as a political power. The princes and states that, while it was yet time, should have formed a firm and steadfast league against the common foe, fell now separately under the sword of the victors, and the yoke of conquest. In the further progress of their triumphs, the con. querors knew to assume a certain character of generosity, and give a certain colour of magnanimity to their acts, in the eyes of a gazing and terrified world. Thus, for instance, after the defeat of Philip, King of Macedon. they declared to deluded TE Ta PT TINT RR ae CCI RENE Oe I LEIP ER BTN EES Oe IE I IT . RTP LLL POPE I ee PE A PET OM TE EIT St ie a HISTORY. ¥ 257 Greece that she was free; and again, Antiochus the Great, whose arrogance had given offence to many, and whose over- throw was, in consequence, the subject of very general joy, was compelled to eede the Lesser Asia as far as Mount Taurus; and the victors gave away the conquered provinces and king- doms to the princes in their alliance, and affected not to have the intention of subduing and keeping all for themselves. For » it was yet much too soon to let the unconquered states and nations perceive that all, without distinction, were destined, one after the other, to become the provinces of the all-absorb- ing empire of Rome. Thus now overpassing the limits of Greece, the Romans had obtained a firm footing in Asia; and this first step was soon enough to be suceceded by other and still further advances. Historians have often remarked the de- cisive moment when Ceasar, after an instant’s reflection and delay, crossed the Rubicon; but we may ask now, when Rome herself had passed her Rubicon, where was that historical limit —that last boundary-line of ambition, after passing which no return, no halt was possible; if now, when all right, all jus- tice, every human term and limit to ambition were lost sight of, if now idolised Rome, in the fulness of her pagan pride, and in her rapid career of destruction, marghing from one crime against the world to another, and descending deeper and deeper into the abyss of interminable foreign and domestic bloodshed, was, from the summit of her triumphs, to sink be- yond redemption, down to Caligula and Nero? We might point out, as an instance of this ever-growing and reckless ar- rogance, the moment when the last King of Macedon,* not more than a century and a half from the death of Alexander the Great, was led in triumph into the city of the conquerors, a captive and in chains, to sate the eyes of the Roman popu- lace. It entered into the high designs of Providence im the government of the world, during this middle and second period of universal history, that each of the conquering nations should receive its full measure of justice from another worse than itself, emerging suddenly from obscurity, and chosen as the instrument of its annihilation or subjection. But a still more decisive example of the spirit of Roman conquests was the cruel destruction of Carthage in the third Punic war, begun without * Perseus, 6 258 PHILOSOPHY OF any assignable motive, and from pure caprice. In this ease no other resistance could be expected than the resistance of despair, which here, indeed, showed itself in all its energy. For seven- teen days the city was in flames, and the numbers that were exterminated amounted to 700,000 souls, including the women and children sold into slavery;.so that this scene of horror served as an early prelude to the later destruction of Jerusalem. The wiser and more lenient Scipios had been against this war of extermination, and had had to contend with the self-willed rancour of the elder Cato; yet a Scipio conducted this war, and was the last conqueror over the ashes of Carthave. And this was a man universally accounted to be of a mild cha- racter and generous nature; and such he really was in other respects, and in private life. But this reputation must be ap- parently estimated by the Roman standard; for, whenever Roman interests were at stake, all mankind, and the lives of nations, were considered as of no importance. Besides, it is really not in the power of a general to do away with the cruelty of any received system of warfare. The example of the first great re-action of nations, too late aroused, was set by Greece in the war of the Achaian league, It terminated like all the preceding wars;—Corinth was con- sumed, and its destruction involved that of an infinite number of noble and beautiful works of art, belonging to the better ages of Greece. Among the nations of the north and west that lived under a yet free and natural form of government, the Spanish distinguished themselves by a peculiar obstinacy of resistance. Scipio was unable to conquer Numantia; the people who defended their liberty behind this rampart, set fire to the city, and the remaining defenders devoted themselves to a voluntary death. In the public triumph which the Romans celebrated on this occasion, they were able to exhibit only afew brave Lusitanians of a gigantic size. Now commenced the civil wars :—the first was occasioned by Tiberius Gracchus, then leader of the popular party at Rome. ‘To undertake the complete justification of any one of the leading men in the Roman parties, would be an arduous, not to say impracticable task ; yet we may positively assert of the elder Gracchus, that he was the best man of his party ; as the same observation will apply to the Scipios in the opposite party of the Patricians, The proposal of Gracchus was this—that the rights of Roman . A6P SSE RGR tr Cress cme anes — pis os OO rae TT RR rere pre te FSET eer ee oncenme mane sone TASTE eae SS Rate na mans era tee HISTORY. 259 citizens should be extended to the rest of Italy. It was in the very nature of things that such a change, or at least one very similar, should now take place, as in fact it did somewhat later; for after the conquest of so many provinces, the disproportion between the one all-ruling city, and the vast regions which it had subdued, was much too great to continue long. The armed insurrection of all the Italian nations that occurred soon after, sufficiently proves of what vital importance this measure was considered. But the pride of the ruling Patricians was extremely offended at this claim—they regarded it as an attempt to subvert the ancient constitution of the country—and, in the revolt that ensued, Tiberius Gracchus lost his hfe. From that time forward the principles apparently contended for on both sides were mere pretexts—whether it were the maintenance of the law, and of the ancient constitution, as asserted by the Patricians—or the just claims of the people, and the ne- cessary changes which the altered circumstances of the times demanded, as alleged by the opposite party. It was now an open struggle for ascendency between a few factious leaders and their partisans—a civil war carried on between fierce and for- midable Oligarchs. The effusion of blood was still greater in the troubles which the younger Caius Gracchus occasioned, and which had the same motive and the same object as the preceding commotions, though conducted with more animosity, and stained by greater erimes; and in the Patrician party, the noble Scipio, the hero of the third Punic war, fell a victim of assassination. Murders and poisoning were now every day more common; and it beeame the practice to carry daggers under the mantle. On this occasion we may cite an observation, made not by any father of the church, or any Christian moralist ; but by a cele- brated German historian, who was in other respects an enthu- siastic admirer of the republican heroism of the ancients: “ Rome, the mistress of the world,” says he, “drunk with the _ blood of nations, began now to rage in her entrails.” Of oS Marius and Sylla, on whom next devolved the conduct of the Patrician and Plebeian parties in the civil.war, now conducted on a more extended scale, it is difficult to decide which of the two surpassed the other in cruelty and_blood-thirstiness, Marius was indeed of a ruder and more savage character—but Sylla evinced perhaps a more systematic and relentless ferocity. | : g 2 | | en ee rene ne EER ere pr mene erEE mene FT TPT CTT Pere R re mnere, TERETE PORTIS TH Le NT eR RRORT ARERR 260 PHILOSOPIIY OF Both were great generals; and it was only after obtunirg splendid victories over forcign nations that they could think of turning their fury against their native city, after having spent their rage on the rest of mankind. ‘The victories of Marius had delivered Rome frum the mighty danger with which she had been menaced, by the irruption of the powerful tribes of the Cimbri and Teutones—the first forerunner of the great northern emigration. Danger served but to arouse the Roman people to more triumphant exertions; and every effort of hostile resistance, when once overcome, tended only to confirm their universal dominion. The greatest and most for- midable of these efforts of resistance was made by Mithridates, King of Pontus—it began by the murder of eighty thousand Romans in his dominions, and the simultaneous revolt of all the Italian nations against the Roman sway. No enemy of the Romans, since Hannibal, had formed such a deep-laid plan as Mithridates, whose intention it was to unite in one armed con- federacy against Rome all the nations of the north, from the regions of Mount Caucasus, as far as Gaul and the Alps. By his victories over this enemy, Sylla prepared to return to Rome, torn and convulsed by civil war; and on his entry into the city, he treated it with all the infuriated vengeance of a conqueror, proscribed, gave full loose to slaughter, and perpe- trated the most execrable atrocities. We may cite asa strange instance of the still surviving greatness of the Roman character, the fact, that Sylla, immediately after all this immense blood- shed, as if every thing had passed in perfect conformity to law and order, laid down the dictatorship, retired peacefully to his estate, and there prepared to write his own history. In one respect, however, he was a flatterer of the multitude—he seems to have thoroughly understood the Roman people, for he was the first to introduce the games of the circus, those bloody combats of animals, those cruel ¢ladiatorial fights, which after- wards, under the emperors, became, like bread, one of the most indispensable necessaries to the Roman people, and one of the most important objects of concern to its rulers. For these games, where the Roman eye delighted to contemplate men devoted to certain death contend and wrestle with the most savage animals, Pompey on one occasion introduced — six uundred lions on the arena, and Augustus, four hundred panthers, Thus did a thirst for blood, after having been long [REDIR ERRA IN IS AR TINE ay RET NI tO EERE