A History of Ancient Sanskrit Literature, so far as it illustrates the Primitive Religion of the Brahmans c11: Chapter IV. The Chhandas Period
A History of Ancient Sanskrit Literature, so far as it illustrates the Primitive Religion of the Brahmans c11
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Chapter IV. The Chhandas Period
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THE three periods of Vedic literature which we have examined, the Sûtra, Brâhmaṇa, and Mantra periods, all point to some earlier age which gave birth to the poetry of the early Rishis. There was a time, doubtless, when the songs which were collected with such careful zeal in the Mantra period, commented upon with such elaborate pedantry during the Brâhmaṇa period, and examined and analysed with such minute exactness during the Sûtra period, lived and were understood without any effort by a simple and pious race. There was a time when the sacrifices, which afterwards became so bewildering a system of ceremonies, were dictated by the free impulse of the human heart, by a yearning to render thanks to some Unknown Being, and to repay, in words or deeds, a debt of gratitude, accumulated from the first breath of life. There was a time when the poet was the leader, the king, and priest of his family or tribe, when his songs and sayings were listened to in anxious silence and with implicit faith, when his prayers were repeated by crowds who looked up to their kings and priests, their leaders and judges, as men better, nobler, wiser than the rest, as beings nearer to the gods in proportion as they were raised above the common level of mankind. These men themselves living a life of perfect freedom, speaking a language not yet broken by literary usage, and thinking thoughts unfettered as yet by traditional chains, were at once teachers, lawgivers, poets, and priests. There is no very deep wisdom in their teaching, their laws are simple, their poetry shows no very high flights of fancy, and their religion might be told in a few words. But what there is of their language, poetry, and religion has a charm which no other period of Indian literature possesses: it is spontaneous, original, and truthful.
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We cannot say this of all the hymns: nay, the greater portion of what we now possess of Vedic poetry must, no doubt, be ascribed to a secondary period, the so-called Mantra period. But after we have discarded what bears the stamp of a later age, there remains enough to give us an idea of an earlier race of Vedic poets. It is true, no doubt, in one sense, that even those earliest specimens of Vedic poetry belong, as has been said by Bunsen, to the modern history of the human race. Ages must have passed before the grammatical texture of the Vedic Sanskrit could have assumed the consistency and regularity which it shows throughout. Every tense, every mood, every number and person of the verb is fixed, and all the terminations of the cases are firmly established. Every one of these terminations was originally an independent word with an independent meaning. Their first selection was more or less the result of individual choice, their technical character the result of long usage. There was more than one word for *I*, and more than one expression for the verb *to be*. The selection of *mi*, as the termination of the first person singular, the selection of as in the sense of to be, and the joining of the two so as to produce the auxiliary verb asmi, I am, all this was a conventional act, the act of one or two individuals, fixed by circumstances which were more or less accidental. If, then, we find the same combination in the ancient Greek εἰμί, and the modern Lithuanian esmi, it is clear that the origin of that form goes back to times long anterior to the separate existence of Sanskrit, Greek, and Lithuanian. As soy, suis, and sono are modern modifications that point back to an earlier type, the Latin sum, the Sanskrit asmi, Greek εἰμί, Lithuanian esmi, are likewise but the modern representatives of some earlier typical form, which existed in the undivided language of the Aryan race.
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The same applies to the religion of the Veda. Words like deva for ‘god’ mark a more than secondary stage in the grammar of the Aryan religion. To use the root div, ‘to shine,’ with reference to the heavenly bodies, was the result of a free choice. There were other roots which might have been used instead. Nor was it by any means a necessity that the presence of a Divine Power should be felt exclusively in the bright manifestations of nature. All this was the result of a historical growth; and the early periods of that growth had passed away long before the Rishis of India could have worshipped their Devas or their bright beings, with sacred hymns and invocations.
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From this point of view the Vedic language and poetry may be ascribed to a modern or secondary period in the history of the world, if only it be understood that what preceded that period in India, or in any other part of the Aryan world, is lost to us beyond the hope of recovery, and that, therefore, to us the Veda represents the most ancient chapter in the history of the human intellect. We find no traces in the Veda, or in any Aryan work, of a growing language, growing in the sense in which some of the Turanian languages may be said to be still growing at the present day.¹ The whole grammatical mechanism is finished, the most complicated forms are sanctioned, and the only changes of which the Aryan speech, arrived at the point where we find it in the Veda, admits, are those of gradual decay and recomposition. Nor do we find any traces, in the Veda, of a growing religion. We look in vain for the effect produced on the human mind by the first rising of the idea of God. To the poets of the Veda that idea is an old and familiar idea: it is understood, never questioned, never denied. We shall never hear what was felt by man when the image of God arose in all its majesty before his eyes, assuming a reality before which all other realities faded away into a mere shadow. No whisper will ever reach us of that sacred colloquy when God for the first time spoke to man, and man to God; when man within his own heart heard that still small voice through which the Father of mankind revealed himself to all his children, to the Jew first, and also to the Gentile; and when God received the first response from human lips: "Who art thou, Lord?" That first recognition of God, that first perception of the real presence of God, — a perception without which no religion, whether natural or revealed, can exist or grow, — belonged to the past when the songs of the Veda were written. The idea of God, though never entirely lost, had been clouded over by errors. The names given to God had been changed to gods, and their real meaning had faded away from the memory of man. Even the earliest hymns of the Veda are not free from mythological phraseology. How far the poets retained a vague consciousness of the original purport of the names of the gods is difficult to say. To our eyes the science of language has disclosed the smallest fibres in the tissue of these names, and allowed us an insight into the darkest secrets of their growth. We can see *nomina*, where even the most keen-sighted native could discover nothing but *numina*. Sometimes, however, we feel surprised at the precision with which even such modern writers as Kumârila are able to read the true meaning of their mythology. When Kumârila is hard pressed by his opponents about the immoralities of his gods, he answers with all the freedom of a comparative mythologist¹: "It is fabled that Prajâpati, the Lord of Creation, did violence to his daughter. But what does it mean? Prajâpati, the Lord of Creation, is a name of the sun; and he is called so, because he protects all creatures. His daughter Ushas is the dawn. And when it is said that he was in love with her, this only means that, at sunrise, the sun runs after the dawn, the dawn being at the same time called the daughter of the sun, because she rises when he approaches. In the same manner, if it is said that Indra was the seducer of Ahalyâ, this does not imply that the god Indra committed such a crime; but Indra means the sun, and Ahalyâ (from ahan and lî) the night; and, as the night is seduced and ruined by the sun of the morning, therefore is Indra called the paramour of Ahalyâ.”
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¹ See my Letter on the Classification of the Turanian languages, p. 30.
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¹ प्रजापतिस्तावत्प्रजापालनाधिकारादादित्य एवोच्यते। स चारुणोदयवेलायामुषसमुद्यन्नभ्येति सा तदागमनादेवोपजायते इति तदुहितृत्वेन व्यपदिश्यते। तस्यां चारुणकिरणाख्यबीजनिक्षेपात् स्त्रीपुरुषसंयोगवदुपचारः। एवं समस्ततेजाः परमेश्वरत्वनिमित्तेंद्रशब्दवाच्यः सवितैवाहनि लीयमानतया रात्रेरहल्याशब्दवाचायाः चयात्मकजरणहेतुत्वाज्जीर्यत्यस्मादनेन वोदितेन वेत्यहल्याजार इत्युच्यते न परस्त्रीव्यभिचारात्।
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But in spite of the mythological character which the religion of India has assumed in the Veda, in spite of other traces which show that even its most primitive hymns rest on numerous underlying strata of more primitive thoughts and feelings, we should look in vain, in any other literature of the Aryan nations, to Greece or Rome, for documents from which to study that important chapter in the history of mankind which we can study in the Veda, — the transition from a natural into an artificial religion.
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In a history of Sanskrit literature the Chhandas period, though the most interesting from a philosophical point of view, can occupy but a small place. It is represented by a very limited literature, by those few hymns which show none of the signs of a more modern origin which we discussed when treating on the Mantra period. Their number will necessarily vary according to the rules which critics follow in testing the age and character of earlier and later hymns. This critical separation can be carried out successfully only after a comprehensive examination of the leading ideas of the whole Vedic poetry, and it could not be attempted within the small compass of this work. All I can do in this place is to give a few hymns which in thought and language represent the general character of genuine Vedic poetry, and to contrast them with some other hymns which decidedly belong to a later period.
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The following hymn is ascribed to Manu Vaivasvata: viii. 30.
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1. Among you, O gods, there is none that is small, none that is young: you all are great indeed.
2. Be thus praised, ye destroyers of foes, you who are thirty and three, you the sacred gods of Manu.
3. Defend us, help us, bless us! do not lead us far away from the path of our fathers, from the path of Manu!
4. You who are here, O gods, all of you, and worshipped by all men, give us your broad protection, give it to cow and horse.
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There is nothing striking, nothing that displays any warmth of feeling or power of expression in this hymn. The number of thirty-three, assigned to the gods of Manu, would rather tend to refer its composition to a time when the gods of old had been gathered up and been subjected to a strict census. Nevertheless, the hymn is simple and primitive in thought and language; and the fact of its being ascribed to Manu Vaivasvata shows that the Brahmans themselves looked upon it as a relic of one of their earliest sages. That Manu himself should be mentioned in the hymn seems to have caused no scruple to the Brahmans; nor is it any real difficulty from our own point of view. No man of the name of Manu ever existed. Manu was never more than a name—one of the oldest names for man; and it was given in India, as elsewhere, to the supposed ancestor or ancestors of the human race. The Brahmans, however, like most Aryan nations, changed the appellative into a proper name. They believed in a real Manu, or in several real Manus, to whom they assigned various cognomina, such as Vaivasvata, Âpsava (Rv. ix. 7. 3), Sâmvaraṇa (Rv. ix. 6. 5). All of these they naturally counted as among the earliest of human Ṛishis; and the hymns which they ascribed to them must have belonged in their eyes to the earliest and most important class.
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In one sense it is true, no doubt, that invocations of all the gods, the Viśve Devas¹ as they are called, represent a later phase of thought than invocations of single deities. Nevertheless, there is nothing to show that this comprehensive view of all the deities belongs to an age later than that which gave rise to the most ancient hymns which we possess, and which celebrate the power and majesty of individual deities, such as Varuṇa, Indra, Agni (fire), the Maruts (the winds), Ushas (dawn), &c. When these individual gods are invoked, they are not conceived as limited by the power of others, as superior or inferior in rank. Each god is to the mind of the supplicant as good as all the gods. He is felt, at the time, as a real divinity—as supreme and absolute, in spite of the necessary limitations which, to our mind, a plurality of gods must entail on every single god. All the rest disappear for a moment from the vision of the poet, and he only who is to fulfil their desires stands in full light before the eyes of the worshippers. "Among you, O gods, there is none that is small, none that is young; you are all great indeed," is a sentiment which, though, perhaps, not so distinctly expressed as by Manu Vaivasvata, nevertheless, underlies all the poetry of the Veda. Although the gods are sometimes distinctly invoked as the great and the small, the young and the old (Rv. i. 27. 13), this is only an attempt to find the most comprehensive expression for the divine powers, and nowhere is any of the gods represented as the slave of others. It would be easy to find, in the numerous hymns of the Veda, passages in which almost every single god is represented as supreme and absolute. In the first hymn of the second Maṇḍala, Agni is called the ruler of the universe¹, the lord of men, the wise king, the father, the brother, the son, and friend of men²; nay, all the powers and names of the others are distinctly ascribed to Agni. The hymn belongs, no doubt, to the modern compositions; yet, though Agni is thus highly exalted in it, nothing is said to disparage the divine character of the other gods. Indra is celebrated as the strongest god in the hymns as well as in the Brâhmaṇas, and the burden of one of the songs of the tenth book³ is: Viśvasmâd Indra uttaraḥ, "Indra is greater than all." Of Soma it is said that he was born great, and that he conquers every one.⁴ He is called the king of the world⁵, he has the power to prolong the life of men⁶, and in one sense he is called the maker of heaven and earth, of Agni, of Sûrya, of Indra, and of Viṣṇu.¹
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¹ Viśve Devâḥ, though treated as a plural, has sometimes the meaning of a pluralis majestaticus. See Ewald, Ausführliches Lehrbuch, § 178, b.
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¹ त्वं विश्वानि खनीक पत्यसे। ii. 1. 8. See Nirukta-pariśiṣṭa, i.
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² ii. 1. 9.
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³ x. 86.
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⁴ ix. 59.
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⁵ ix. 96. 10., bhuvanasya râjâ.
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⁶ ix. 96. 14.
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¹ ix. 96. 5.
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If we read the next hymn, which is addressed to Varuṇa (οὐρανός), we perceive that the god here invoked is, to the mind of the poet, supreme and almighty. Nevertheless, he is one of the gods who is almost always represented in fellowship with another, Mitra; and even in our hymn there is one verse, the sixth, in which Varuṇa and Mitra are invoked in the dual. Yet what more could human language achieve, in trying to express the idea of a divine and supreme power, than what our poet says of Varuṇa;—"Thou art lord of all, of heaven and earth." Or, as is said in another hymn (ii. 27. 10.), "Thou art the king of all; of those who are gods, and of those who are men." Nor is Varuṇa represented as the Lord of nature only. He knows the order of nature, and upholds it; for this is what is meant by dhṛitavrata.² Varuṇa, therefore, knows the twelve months, and even the thirteenth; he knows the course of the wind, the birds in the air, and the ships of the sea. He knows all the wondrous works of nature, and he looks not only into the past but into the future also. But, more than all this, Varuṇa watches over the order of the moral world. The poet begins with a confession that he has neglected the works of Varuṇa, that he has offended against his laws. He craves his pardon; he appeals in self-defence to the weakness of human nature; he deprecates death as the reward of sin. His devotion is all he has wherewith to appease the anger of his god; and how natural the feeling, when he hopes to soothe the god by his prayers as a horse is soothed by kind words. The poet has evidently felt the anger of Varuṇa. His friends, wishing for booty elsewhere, have left him, and he knows not how to bring back Varuṇa, who is the only giver of victory. He describes the power of his god, and he praises him chiefly as the guardian of law and order. Like a true child of nature, he offers honey, sweet things, which the god is sure to like, and then appeals to him as to a friend: "Now be good, and let us speak together again." This may seem childish, but there is a real and childish faith in it; and, like all childish faith, it is rewarded by some kind of response. For, at that very moment, the poet takes a higher tone. He fancies he sees the god and his chariot passing by; he feels that his prayer has been heard. True, there is much that is human, earthly, coarse, and false in the language applied to the deity as here invoked under the name of Varuṇa. Yet there is something also in these ancient strains of thought and faith which moves and cheers our hearts even at this great distance of time; and a wise man will pause before he ascribes to purely evil sources what may be, for all we know, the working of a love and wisdom beyond our own.
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² Vrata means what must be done, and these Vratas or laws are not to be shaken (aprachyuta) because "they rest on Varuṇa as on a rock." (Rv. ii. 28. 8.)
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The hymn is ascribed to Śunaḥśepha, according to the legend of the later Brâhmaṇas, the victim offered to Varuṇa by his own father Ajīgarta Sauyavasi. (See page 413.)
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1. However we break thy laws from day to day, men as we are, O god, Varuṇa,
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2. Do not deliver us unto death, nor to the blow of the furious; not to the anger of the spiteful!
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3. To propitiate thee, O Varuṇa, we bind thy mind with songs, as the charioteer a weary steed.
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4. Away from me they flee dispirited, intent only on gaining wealth; as birds to their nests.
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5. When shall we bring hither the man who is victory to the warriors, when shall we bring Varuṇa, the wide-seeing, to be propitiated?
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[6. This they take in common with delight, Mitra and Varuṇa; they never fail the faithful giver.]
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7. He who knows the place of the birds that fly through the sky, who, on the waters knows the ships, —
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8. He, the upholder of order, who knows the twelve months with the offspring of each, and knows the month¹ that is engendered afterwards, —
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¹ The thirteenth or intercalary month; see page 212.
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9. He who knows the track of the wind², of the wide, the bright, and mighty; and knows those who reside on high³, —
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² Rv. vii. 87. 2., the wind is called the breath of Varuṇa.
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³ The gods.
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10. He, the upholder of order, Varuṇa sits down among his people; he, the wise, sits there to govern.
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11. From thence perceiving all wondrous things, he sees what has been and what will be done.
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12. May he, the wise son of time (âditya), make our paths straight all our days; may he prolong our lives!
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13. Varuṇa, wearing golden mail, has put on his shining cloak; the spies⁴ sat down around him.
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⁴ These spies or watchers are most likely the other Âdityas, of whom it is said (ii. 27. 3.) that "they see into what is evil and what is good, and that everything, even at the greatest distance, is
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14. The god, whom the scoffers do not provoke, nor the tormentors of men, nor the plotters of mischief, —
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15. He, who gives to men glory, and not half glory, who gives it even to our own bodies, —
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16. Yearning for him, the far-seeing, my thoughts move onwards, as kine move to their pastures.
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17. Let us speak together again, because my honey has been brought: thou eatest what thou likest, like a friend.¹
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¹ Hotṛi does not mean friend, but the priest who is chosen to invite the gods. Perhaps it means poet and priest in a more general sense than in the later hymns.
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18. Now I saw the god who is to be seen by all, I saw the chariot above the earth: he must have accepted my prayers.
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19. O hear this my calling, Varuṇa, be gracious now; longing for help, I have called upon thee.
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20. Thou, O wise god, art lord of all, of heaven and earth: listen on thy way.
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21. That I may live, take from me the upper rope, loose the middle, and remove the lowest!
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This one hymn to Varuṇa would be sufficient to show the mistake of those who deny the presence of moral truths in the ancient religions of the world and, more particularly, in the so-called nature-worship of the Aryans. On the contrary, whatever we find of moral sentiments in those ancient hymns is generally as true to-day as it was thousands of years ago; while what is false and perishable in them
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near to them." "With the light is not distinguished from the left, nor the east, nor the west." (Rv. ii. 27. 11.) See Roth, Zeitschrift der Deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaft, vi. 72.
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has reference to the external aspects of the deity, and to his supposed working in nature. The key-note of all religion, natural as well as revealed, is present in the hymns of the Veda, and never completely drowned by the strange music which generally deafens our ears when we first listen to the wild echoes of the heathen worship. There is the belief in God, the perception of the difference between good and evil, the conviction that God hates sin, and loves the righteous. We can hardly speak with sufficient reverence of the discovery of these truths, however trite they may appear to ourselves; and, if the name of revelation seems too sacred a name to be applied to them, that of discovery is too profane, for it would throw the vital truths of all religion, both ancient and modern, into the same category as the discoveries of a Galileo or a Newton. Theologians may agree in denying that any man in possession of his reason can, without a crime, remain ignorant of God for any length of time. Missionaries, however, who held and defended this opinion, have been led to very different convictions after some intercourse with savage tribes. Dobrizhoffer¹, who was for eighteen years a Missionary in Paraguay, states that the language of the Abipones does not contain a single word which expresses God or a divinity. Penafiel, a Jesuit theologian, declared that there were many Indians who, on being asked whether, during the whole course of their lives they ever thought of God, replied, no, never. Dobrizhoffer says, "Travelling with fourteen Abipones, I sat down by the fire in the open air, as usual on the high shore of the river Plata. The sky, which was perfectly serene, delighted our eyes with its twinkling stars. I began a conversation with the Cacique Ychoalay, the most intelligent of all the Abipones I have been acquainted with, as well as the most famous in war. ‘Do you behold,’ said I, ‘the splendour of Heaven, with its magnificent arrangement of stars? Who can suppose that all this is produced by chance? Whom do you suppose to be their creator and governor? What were the opinions of your ancestors on the subject?’ ‘My father,’ replied Ychoalay, readily, and frankly, ‘our grandfathers and great-grandfathers, were wont to contemplate the earth alone, solicitous only to see whether the plain afforded grass and water for their horses. They never troubled themselves about what went on in the Heavens, and who was the creator and governor of the stars.’” The Guaranies, who had an expression for the supreme Deity whom they call *tupa*, a word composed of two particles—*tu*, a word of admiration, and *pa*, of interrogation, nevertheless worshipped only an evil spirit. Let us turn our eyes from the Indians of America to the Indians of India, and we shall perceive the immense distance by which these noble races are separated from the savage tribes to whom our Missionaries are still trying, and trying in vain, to impart the first principles of religion. The language of their simple prayers is more intelligible to us, their whole world of thought and feeling is nearer to us, than anything we find in the literature of Greece and Rome, and there are, here and there, short expressions of faith and devotion in which even a Christian can join without irreverence. If the following were not addressed to Varuṇa, one of the many names of the deity, it would seem to contain nothing strange or offensive to our ears:
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¹ Dobrizhoffer, Account of the Abipones, vol. ii. p. 58.
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1. Let me not yet, O Varuṇa, enter into the house of clay; have mercy, almighty, have mercy!
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2. If I go along trembling, like a cloud driven by the wind; have mercy, almighty, have mercy!
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3. Through want of strength, thou strong and bright god, have I gone to the wrong shore; have mercy, almighty, have mercy!
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4. Thirst came upon the worshipper, though he stood in the midst of the waters; have mercy, almighty, have mercy!
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5. Whenever we men, O Varuṇa, commit an offence before the heavenly host; whenever we break thy law through thoughtlessness; have mercy, almighty, have mercy!
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Here we have the two ideas, so contradictory to the human understanding, and yet so easily reconciled in every human heart: God has established the eternal laws of the moral world, and yet he is willing to forgive those who offend against them; just, yet merciful; a judge, and yet a father. "He is merciful even to him who has committed sin." ¹
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¹ Rv. vii. 87. 7. yaḥ mṛiḷayâti chakrushe chit âgaḥ.
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The next hymn allows us a still deeper insight into the strange ideas which the Rishis had formed to themselves as to the nature of sin. (Rv. vii. 86.)
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1. Wise and mighty are the works of him who stemmed asunder the wide firmaments. He lifted on high the bright and glorious heaven; he stretched out apart the starry sky and the earth.
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2. Do I say this to my own soul? How can I get unto Varuṇa? Will he accept my offering without displeasure? When shall I, with a quiet mind, see him propitiated?
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3. I ask, O Varuṇa, wishing to know this my sin. I go to ask the wise. The sages all tell me the same: Varuṇa it is who is angry with thee.
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4. Was it an old sin, O Varuṇa, that thou wishest to destroy thy friend, who always praises thee? Tell me, thou unconquerable lord, and I will quickly turn to thee with praise, freed from sin.
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5. Absolve us from the sins of our fathers, and from those which we committed with our own bodies. Release Vasiṣṭha¹, O king, like a thief who has feasted on stolen cattle; release him like a calf from the rope.
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¹ Name of the poet.
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6. It was not our own doing, O Varuṇa, it was necessity, an intoxicating draught, passion, dice, thoughtlessness. The old is near to mislead the young; even sleep brings unrighteousness.
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7. Let me without sin give satisfaction, like a slave to the bounteous lord, the god, our support. The lord god enlightened the foolish; he, the wisest, leads his worshipper to wealth.
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8. O lord, Varuṇa, may this song go well to thy heart! May we prosper in keeping and acquiring! Protect us, O gods, always with your blessings!
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These ideas preponderate in hymns addressed to Varuṇa, but they likewise occur in the prayers to the other gods. Varuṇa is one of the Ādityas, the sons of time, the Kroniones, the heavenly gods. The hymns addressed to these Ādityas in general are full of moral sentiments, because these gods are believed to protect men, not only against the assaults of nature, against disease and suffering, but also against the temptations of sin.
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Rv. viii. 13. 14. “May evil betide him, the cursing mortal, the enemy who, double-tongued, would deal us a felon’s blow.
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15. You gods are with the righteous; you know man in their hearts. Come to the true man, and to the false, ye Vasus!
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16. We implore the protection of the mountains, and the protection of the waters.¹ Heaven and earth, remove from us all evil.
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¹ Rv. viii. 31. 10.
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17. Carry us, O Vasus, by your blessed protection, as it were in your ship, across all dangers.
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18. To our offspring, to our race, and thus to ourselves, make life longer to live, ye valiant Ādityas!
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21. O Mitra, Aryaman, Varuṇa, and ye Winds, grant us an abode free from sin, full of men, glorious, with three bars.
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22. We, who are but men, the bondsmen of death, prolong our time well, O Ādityas, that we may live!
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Indra, one of the principal gods of the Veda, is likewise invoked, together with the Ādityas, as a god who may pardon sin. “Whatever sin we have committed against you²,” the poet says, “let us obtain, O Indra, the broad safe light of day; let not the long darkness come upon us!” Indra is clearly conceived as a moral being in the following verse (Rv. viii. 21. 14.):
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² Rv. ii. 27. 14.
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“Thou never findest a rich man to be thy friend;
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wine-swillers despise thee. But when thou thunderest, when thou gatherest (the clouds), then thou art called like a father.”
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Out of a large number of hymns addressed to the same god, we select one that is ascribed to Vasistha. (Rv. vii. 32.)
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1. Let no one, not even those who worship thee, delay thee far from us! Even from afar come to our feast! Or, if thou art here, listen to us!
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2. For these here who make prayers for thee, sit together near the libation, like flies round the honey. The worshippers, anxious for wealth, have placed their desire upon Indra, as we put our foot upon a chariot.
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3. Desirous of riches, I call him who holds the thunderbolt with his arm, and who is a good giver, like as a son calls his father.
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4. These libations of Soma, mixed with milk, have been prepared for Indra: thou, armed with the thunderbolt, come with the steeds to drink of them for thy delight; come to the house!
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5. May he hear us, for he has ears to hear. He is asked for riches; will he despise our prayers? He could soon give hundreds and thousands;—no one could check him if he wishes to give.
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6. He who prepares for thee, O Vritra-killer, deep libations, and pours them out¹ before thee, that hero thrives with Indra, never scorned of men.
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¹ Dhâvati is explained as a neuter verb by the commentary, “he who runs towards thee.” Dhâvati, however, is a technical term, applied to the libations of the Soma-juice, as may be seen, Rv. viii. 1. 17. “Sota hi somam adribhiḥ â îm enam apsu dhâvata,” “Press the Soma with stones, make it run into the water.”
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7. Be thou, O mighty, the shield of the mighty (Vasisthas) when thou drivest together the fighting men. Let us share the wealth of him whom thou hast slain; bring us the household of him who is hard to vanquish.
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8. Offer Soma to the drinker of Soma, to Indra, the lord of the thunderbolt; roast roasts; make him to protect us : Indra, the giver, is a blessing to him who gives oblations.
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9. Do not grudge, ye givers of Soma ; give strength¹ to the great god, make him to give wealth! He alone who perseveres, conquers, abides, and flourishes : the gods are not to be trifled with.
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¹ Dakshata is construed with the dative, and the cæsura forbids to join mahe with râye. A similar construction occurs vii. 97. 8., Dakshâyyâya dakshata, where the commentator explains it rightly.
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10. No one surrounds the chariot of the liberal worshipper, no one stops it. He whom Indra protects and the Maruts, he will come into stables full of cattle.
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11. He will, when fighting, obtain spoil², O Indra, the mortal, whose protection thou shouldest be. O hero, be thou the protection of our chariots, and of our men!
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² This verse shows signs of a later origin; the ideas are taken from the preceding verse.
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12. His share is exceeding great, like the wealth of a winner. He who is Indra with his steeds, him no enemies can subdue; may he give strength to the sacrificer!
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13. Make for the sacred gods a hymn that is not small, that is well set and beautiful! Many snares pass by him who abides with Indra through his sacrifice.
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14. What mortal dares to attack him who is rich in thee? Through faith in thee, O mighty, the strong acquires spoil in the day of battle.
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15. Stir us mighty Vasiṣṭhas in the slaughter of the enemies, stir us who give their dearest treasures. Under thy guidance, O Haryaśva, we shall with our wise counsellors overcome all hardships.
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16. To thee belongs the lowest treasure; thou rearest the middle treasure; thou art king always of all the highest treasure; no one withstands thee in the flock.
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17. Thou art well known as the benefactor of every one, whatever battles there be. Every one of these kings of the earth implores thy name, when wishing for help.
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18. If I were lord of as much as thou, I should support the sacred bard, thou scatterer of wealth, I should not abandon him to misery.
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19. I should award wealth day by day to him who magnifies, I should award it to whosoever it be.¹ We have no other friend but thee, no other happiness, no other father, O mighty!
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¹ According to the Commentator *Kuhachidvid* means "where-ever he be." It may perhaps mean the ignorant.
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20. He who perseveres acquires spoil with his wife as his mate; I bend Indra, who is invoked by many, for you, as a wheelwright bends a wheel made of strong wood.
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21. A mortal does not get riches by scant praise: no wealth comes to the grudger. The strong man it is, O mighty, who in the day of battle is a precious gift to thee like as to me.
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22. We call for thee, O hero, like cows that have not been milked; we praise thee as ruler of all that moves, O Indra, as ruler of all that is immovable.
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23. There is no one like thee in heaven or earth; he is not born, and will not be born. O mighty Indra, we call upon thee as we go fighting for cows and horses.
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24. Bring all this to those who are good, O Indra, be they old or young¹; for thou, O mighty, art the rich of old, and to be called in every battle.
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¹ Jyâyaḥ stands for jyâyasaḥ.
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25. Push away the unfriendly, O mighty, make us treasures easy to get! Be the protector of ourselves in the fight, be the cherisher of our friends!
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26. Indra, give wisdom to us, as a father to his sons. Teach us in this path, let us living see the sun!
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27. Let not unknown wretches, evil-disposed and unhallowed, tread us down. Through thy help, O hero, let us step over the rushing eternal waters!
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In this hymn Indra is clearly conceived as the supreme god, and we can hardly understand how a people who had formed so exalted a notion of the deity and embodied it in the person of Indra, could, at the same sacrifice, invoke other gods with equal praise. When Agni, the lord of fire, is addressed by the poet, he is spoken of as the first god, not inferior even to Indra. While Agni is invoked, Indra is forgotten; there is no competition between the two, nor any rivalry between them or other gods. This is a most important feature in the religion of the Veda, and has never been taken into consideration by those who have written on the history of ancient polytheism.
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There are other hymns, again, in which the notion of a deity is much less prominent. Indra is there represented like a hero fighting against enemies. He is liable to defeat, his heart fails him in the combat, and though at last he invariably conquers, he does so rather by an effort than by the mere assertion of his power. Agni, again, in many hymns, is simply described as a power of nature, as the fire such as it is seen in heaven and on earth. Many things that have become to us familiar, struck the poets of the Veda as wonderful and mysterious. They describe the power of the fire with an awe which, to the natural philosopher of the present day, must appear childish. The production of fire by the friction of wood, or its sudden descent from the sky in the form of lightning, is to them as marvellous as the birth of a child. They feel their dependence on fire; they have experienced what it is to be without it. They were not yet acquainted with lucifer-matches, and hence, when describing the simple phenomena of fire, they do it naturally with a kind of religious reverence. The following verses, taken from a hymn of Vasishṭha (vii. 3.) may serve as a specimen:
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"Neighing like a horse that is greedy for food, when it steps out from the strong prison;—then the wind blows after his blast; thy path, O Agni, is dark at once.¹
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¹ The construction of this verse is very abrupt, particularly the transition from the simile of the horse, which is put in the third person, to the address to Agni in the second person. The idea, however, is clear. Agni, the fire, when first lighted, is compared with a neighing horse, on account of the crackling noise. He is greedy for food as soon as he steps out of his prison, viz., from the wood from which fire is produced by friction, like a horse stepping
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O Agni, thou from whom, as a new-born male, undying flames proceed, the brilliant smoke goes towards the sky, for as messenger thou art sent to the gods.
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Thou whose power spreads over the earth in a moment when thou hast grasped food with thy jaws,—like a dashing army thy blast goes forth; with thy lambent flame thou seemest to tear up the grass.
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Him alone, the ever-youthful Agni, men groom, like a horse in the evening and at dawn; they bed him as a stranger in his couch; the light of Agni, the worshipped¹ male, is lighted.
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¹ Âhuta is used in the general sense of worshipped, well attended, with special reference to a guest. Cf. Rv. i. 44. 4.
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Thy appearance is fair to behold, thou brightfaced Agni, when like gold thou shinest at hand; thy brightness comes like the lightning of heaven; thou showest splendour like the bright sun.”
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The human, and afterwards divine qualities ascribed to Agni arise chiefly from his character as messenger between gods and men, or, as high-priest, when he is supposed to carry the oblation to the gods. It is one of the most favourite themes of the Vedic poets, though perhaps of the modern rather than of the ancient, to celebrate Agni as a priest, as endowed with all priestly powers, and enjoying all the honorific titles given to the various persons who minister at the great sacrifices. The following hymns, one of Vatsa (Rv. viii. 11.), the other of Gotama (Rv. i. 74.), are rather simple as compared with others of the same class, though there are ex-
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out of his stable. Then the wind is supposed to kindle the blaze of the fire, and as the path of the horse is darkened by dust, the path of Agni is darkened by smoke.
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pressions in both which indicate their more modern character.
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1. Thou Agni, art the guardian of sacred rites : thou art a god among mortals¹; thou art to be praised at the sacrifices.
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¹ Might it be "deveshv â martyeshv â," "among gods and among men"?
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2. Thou strong Agni, art to be praised at the festivals, thou who like a charioteer carriest the offerings to the gods.
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3. Fight and drive thou away from us the fiends, O Jâtavedas, the ungodly enemies, O Agni!
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4. Thou, Jâtavedas, desirest not the offering of a hostile man, be it ever so nigh to thee.
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5. We mortals and sages worship the great name of thee, the immortal Jâtavedas.
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6. We sages call the sage to help, we mortals call on the god for protection, we call on Agni with songs.
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7. May the poet draw thy mind even from the most distant abode with the song that longs for thee, O Agni.
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8. Thou art the same in many places, a lord among all people : we call upon thee in battles.
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9. In battles we call upon thee, Agni, for help when we want strength; we call in struggles upon the giver of precious gifts.
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10. Thou art ancient, to be praised at the sacrifices; thou sittest as priest from of old and to-day. Replenish thy own body, O Agni, and grant happiness to us!
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1. As we go to the sacrifice let us say a song to Agni, to him who hears us even from afar.
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2. He who, existing from of old, defended the house for the sacrificer when hostile tribes were gathering together.
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3. Let even the nations confess, "Agni was born, the slayer of the enemy, the winner of booty in every battle."
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4. He whose messenger thou art in the house, whose offerings thou art pleased to accept, and whose sacrifice thou renderest efficient,
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5. Of him indeed, O Angiras, son of strength, people say that his offerings are good, his gods are good and his altar is good.
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6. Bring hither, O serene Agni, these gods, bring them that they may be praised, that they may accept the offerings.
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7. When thou, O Agni, goest on a mission, the sound of the horses of thy moving chariot is never heard.
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8. If protected by thee, the warrior is unabashed. Onward he goes, one after another, forward he steps, O Agni, who offers oblations.
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9. Thou, O bright god, bestowest with increase a brilliant array of heroes upon him who offers oblations to the bright gods.¹
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¹ Every word of this verse baffles translation. Vivâsasi is not simply "thou bestowest," but "thou spreadest out as the sun spreads out his rays." Suvîrya is not "an array of heroes," but an abstract, signifying the possession of good strength, only that this good strength means "the chief of all their strength," and has special reference to the sons and all the males born in the house. Dyumad, brilliant, corresponds with the verb vivâsasi. Brihat should be taken as an adverb, signifying the ever increasing nature of the gift bestowed by Agni.
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It is curious to watch the almost imperceptible transition by which the phenomena of nature, if reflected in the mind of the poet, assume the character of divine beings. The dawn is frequently described in the Veda as it might be described by a modern poet. She is the friend of men, she smiles like a young wife, she is the daughter of the sky. She goes to every house, (i. 123. 4.); she thinks of the dwellings of men (i. 123. 1.); she does not despise the small or the great (i. 124. 6.); she brings wealth (i. 48. 1.); she is always the same, immortal, divine, (i. 124. 4.; i. 123. 8.); age cannot touch her, (i. 113. 15.); she is the young goddess, but she makes men grow old, (i. 92. 11.). All this may be simply allegorical language. But the transition from devî, the bright, to devî, the goddess, is so easy; the daughter of the sky assumes so readily the same personality which is given to the sky, Dyaus, her father, that we can only guess whether in every passage the poet is speaking of a bright apparition, or of a bright goddess; of a natural vision, or of a visible deity. The following hymn of Vasishṭha, (vii. 77.), will serve as an instance:—
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“She shines upon us, like a young wife, rousing every living being to go to his work. The fire had to be kindled by men¹; she brought light by striking down darkness.
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¹ The fire of the altar for the morning prayers.
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She rose up, spreading far and wide, and moving towards every one. She grew in brightness, wearing her brilliant garment. The mother of the cows (of the morning clouds), the leader of the days, she shone gold-coloured, lovely to behold.
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She, the fortunate, who brings the eye of the god, who leads the white and lovely steed (of the
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sun), the Dawn was seen, revealed by her rays, with brilliant treasures she follows every one.
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Thou, who art a blessing where thou art near, drive far away the unfriendly; make the pastures wide, give us safety! Remove the haters, bring treasures! Raise up wealth to the worshipper, thou mighty Dawn.
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Shine for us with thy best rays, thou bright Dawn, thou who lengthenest our life, thou the love of all, who givest us food, who givest us wealth in cows, horses, and chariots.
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Thou, daughter of the sky, thou high-born Dawn, whom the Vasisthas magnify with songs, give us riches high and wide: all ye gods, protect us always with your blessings!"
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This hymn addressed to the Dawn is a fair specimen of the original simple poetry of the Veda. It has no reference to any special sacrifice, it contains no technical expressions, it can hardly be called a hymn, in our sense of the word. It is simply a poem expressing, without any effort, without any display of far-fetched thought or brilliant imagery, the feelings of a man who has watched the approach of the dawn with mingled delight and awe, and who was moved to give utterance to what he felt, in measured language. We have heard the same thoughts and feelings expressed by so many poets, that we can hardly enter into the pleasure with which those early singers spoke their hearts out for the first time. We have become so accustomed to the rules of the most complicated metres that we hardly consider how mysterious is that instinct which suggested to the first poets the extraordinary variety of rhythm which we find in the Veda. But there is a charm in these primitive strains discoverable in no other class of poetry. Every word retains something of its radical meaning, every epithet tells, every thought, in spite of the most intricate and abrupt expressions, is, if we once disentangle it, true, correct, and complete. But this is not the case with all the poems of the Veda. It would be tedious to translate many specimens of what I consider the poetry of the secondary age, the Mantra period. These songs are generally intended for sacrificial purposes, they are loaded with technicalities, their imagery is sometimes more brilliant, but always less perspicuous, and many thoughts and expressions are clearly borrowed from earlier hymns. One specimen may suffice, a hymn describing the sacrifice of the horse with the full detail of a superstitious ceremonial. (Rv. i. 162.)
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“May Mitra, Varuṇa, Aryaman, Âyu, Indra, the Lord of the Ribhus, and the Maruts not rebuke us because we shall proclaim at the sacrifice the virtues of the swift horse sprung from the gods.
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When they lead before the horse, which is decked with pure gold ornaments, the offering, firmly grasped, the spotted goat¹ bleats while walking onward; it goes the path beloved by Indra and Pûshan.
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¹ The goat is the victim or the offering which is led before the horse, and sacrificed to Indra and Pûshan.
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This goat, destined for all the gods, is led first with the quick horse, as Pûshan’s share; for Tvashtṛi himself raises to glory this pleasant offering which is brought with the horse.
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When thrice at the proper seasons men lead around the sacrificial horse which goes to the gods, Pûshan’s share comes first, the goat, which announces the sacrifice to the gods.
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Hotṛi, Adhvaryu, Âvayaj, (Pratiprasthâtṛi), Agnimindha (Agnîdhra), Grâvagrâbha (Grâvastut), and the wise Śanstri (Prasâstri)¹, may you fill the streams (round the altar) with a sacrifice which is well prepared and well accomplished.
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¹ All names of priests.
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They who cut the sacrificial post, and they who carry it, they who make the ring for the post of the horse, and even they who bring together what is cooked for the horse, may their work be with us.
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He came on — (my prayer has been well performed), — the bright-backed horse goes² to the regions of the gods. Wise poets celebrate him, and we have won a good friend for the love of the gods.
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² In these hymns it is sometimes difficult to say whether the horse be meant, or the sun, of which it is the emblem.
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The halter of the swift one, the heel-ropes of the horse, the head-ropes, the girths, the bridle, and even the grass that has been put into his mouth, may all these which belong to thee be with the gods!³
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³ The verb in the singular (astu) with the substantive in the plural (sarvâ) finds an analogy in Greek.
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What the fly eats of the flesh, what adheres to the stick, or to the axe, or to the hands of the immolator and his nails, may all these which belong to thee be with the gods!
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The ordure that runs from the belly, and the smallest particle of raw flesh, may the immolators well prepare all this, and dress the sacrifice till it is well cooked.
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The juice that flows from thy roasted limb on the spit after thou hast been killed, may it not run on the earth or the grass; may it be given to the gods who desire it.
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They who examine the horse when it is roasted, they who say “it smells well, take it away,” they who serve the distribution of the meat, may their work also be with us.
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The ladle of the pot where the meat is cooked, and the vessels for sprinkling the juice, the vessels to keep off the heat, the covers of the vessels, the skewers, and the knives, they adorn the horse.
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Where he walks, where he sits, where he stirs, the foot-fastening of the horse, what he drinks, and what food he eats, may all these which belong to thee be with the gods!
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May not the fire with smoky smell make thee hiss, may not the glowing cauldron smell and burst. The gods accept the horse if it is offered to them in due form.
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The cover which they stretch over the horse, and the golden ornaments, the head-ropes of the horse, and the foot-ropes, all these which are dear to the gods, they offer to them.
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If some one strike thee with the heel or the whip that thou mayest lie down, and thou art snorting with all thy might, then I purify all this with my prayer, as with a spoon of clarified butter at the sacrifices.
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The axe approaches the thirty-four ribs of the quick horse, beloved of the gods. Do you wisely keep the limbs whole, find out each joint and strike.
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One strikes the brilliant horse, two hold it, thus is the custom. Those of thy limbs which I have seasonably prepared, I sacrifice in the fire as balls offered to the gods.
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May not thy dear soul burn thee while thou art coming near, may the axe not stick to thy body. May no greedy and unskilful immolator, missing with the sword, throw thy mangled limbs together.
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Indeed thou diest not thus, thou sufferest not; thou goest to the gods on easy paths. The two horses of Indra, the two deer of the Maruts have been yoked, and the horse come to the shaft of the ass (of the Aśvins.)
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May this horse give us cattle and horses, men, progeny, and all-sustaining wealth. May Aditi keep us free from sin; may the horse of this sacrifice give us strength!
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A comparison of the general tone of this hymn with that of the hymns to Varuṇa, Indra, and Ushas, translated before, can leave little doubt in the mind of critical historians as to its more modern character. We must be careful, however, not to judge the poetry of the ancient bards of India according to our own standard of what is simple and natural and what is not. The great importance attached to what to us seem mere trifles in the performance of a sacrifice would not be sufficient to stamp this hymn as modern. The superstitious feeling about ceremonial minutiæ is natural in a primitive state of civilization, and there are numerous hymns in the Veda which must be adjudged to the earliest period, and where, nevertheless, we meet with sentiments worthy of the most advanced ceremonialists.
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- Ṛgvedasaṃhitā — Sanskrit