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Introduction to the First VolumeFirst Translation of the UpanishadsDârâ Shukoh, Anquetil Duperron, SchopenhauerTHE ancient Vedic literature, the foundation of the whole literature
of India, which has been handed down in that country in an unbroken
succession from the earliest times within the recollection of man to
the present day, became known for the first time beyond the frontiers
of India through the Upanishads. The Upanishads were translated from
Sanskrit into Persian by, or, it may be, for Dârâ Shukoh, the eldest
son of Shâh Jehân, an enlightened prince, who openly professed the
liberal religious tenets of the great Emperor Akbar, and even wrote a
book intended to reconcile the religious doctrines of Hindus and
Mohammedans. He seems first to have heard of the Upanishads during his
stay in Kashmir in 1640. He afterwards invited several Pandits from
Benares to Delhi, who were to assist him in the work of translation.
The translation was finished in 1657. Three years after the
accomplishment of this work, in 1659, the prince was put to death by
his brother Aurangzib[15], in reality, no doubt, because he was the
eldest son and legitimate successor of Shâh Jehân, but under the
pretext that he was an infidel, and dangerous to the established
religion of the empire. When the Upanishads had once been translated from Sanskrit into
Persian, at that time the most widely read language of the East and
understood likewise by many European scholars, they became generally
accessible to
all who took an interest in the religious literature of India. It is
true that under Akbar's reign (1556-1586) similar translations had been
prepared[16], but neither those nor the translations of Dârâ Shukoh
attracted the attention of European scholars till the year 1775. In
that year Anquetil Duperron, the famous traveller and discoverer of the
Zend-avesta, received one MS. of the Persian translation of the
Upanishads, sent to him by M. Gentil, the French resident at the court
of Shuja ud daula, and brought to France by M. Bernier. After receiving
another MS., Anquetil Duperron collated the two, and translated the
Persian translation[17] into French (not published), and into Latin.
That Latin translation was published in 1801 and 1802, under the title
of Oupnek'hat, id est, Secreturn tegendum: opus ipsa in India
rarissimum, continens antiquam et arcanam, seu theologicam et
philosophicam doctrinam, e quatuor sacris Indorum libris Rak baid,
Djedjer baid, Sam baid, Athrban baid excerptam; ad verbum, e Persico
idiomate, Samkreticis vocabulis intermixto, in Latinum conversum:
Dissertationibus et Annotationibus difficiliora explanantibus,
illustratum: studio et opera Anquetil Duperron, Indicopleustæ.
Argentorati, typis et impensis fratrum Levrault, (vol. i, 1801; vol. ii,
1802)[18]. This translation, though it attracted considerable interest among
scholars, was written in so utterly unintelligible a style, that it
required the lynxlike perspicacity of an intrepid
philosopher, such as Schopenhauer, to discover a thread through such
a labyrinth. Schopenhauer, however, not only found and followed such a
thread, but he had the courage to proclaim to an incredulous age the
vast treasures of thought which were lying buried beneath that fearful
jargon. As Anquetil Duperron's volumes have become scarce, I shall here give
a short specimen of his translation, which corresponds to the first
sentences of my translation of the Khândogya-upanishad (p. 1):—
Oum hoc
verbum (esse) adkit ut sciveris, sic [tò] maschghouli fac (de co
meditare), quod ipsurn hoc verbum aodkit est; propter illud quod hoc
(verbum) oum, in Sam Beid, cum voce altâ, cum harmoniâ pronunciaturn
fiat. Adkiteh porro cremor (optimum, selectissimum) est: quemadmodum ex
(præ) omni quieto (non moto), et moto, pulvis (terra) cremor (optimum)
est; et e (præ) terra aqua cremor est; et ex aqua, comedendum (victus)
cremor est; (et) e comedendo, comedens cremor est; et e comedente,
loquela (id quod dicitur) cremor est; et e loquela, aïet [toû] Beid, et
ex aïet, [tò] siam, id est, cum harmonia (pronunciatum); et e Sam, [tò]
adkit, cremor est; id est, oum, voce alta, cum harmonia pronunciare,
aokit, cremor cremorum (optimum optimorum) est. Major, ex (præ) adkit,
cremor alter non est.
Schopenhauer not only read this translation carefully, but he makes
no secret of it, that his own philosophy is powerfully impregnated by
the fundamental doctrines of the Upanishads. He dwells on it again and
again, and it seems both fair to Schopenhauer's memory and highly
important for a true appreciation of the philosophical value of the
Upanishads, to put together what that vigorous thinker has written on
those ancient rhapsodies of truth. In his Welt als Wille und Vorstellung, he writes, in the preface
to the first edition, p. xiii: If the reader has also received the benefit of the Vedas, the
access to which by means of the Upanishads is in my eyes the greatest
privilege which this still young century (1818) may claim before all
previous centuries, (for I anticipate that the influence of Sanskrit
literature will not be less profound than the revival of Greek in the
fourteenth century,)—if then the reader, I say, has received his
initiation in primeval Indian wisdom, and received it with an open
heart, he will be prepared in the very best way for hearing what I have
to tell him. It will not sound to him strange, as to many others, much
less disagreeable; for I might, if it did not sound conceited, contend
that every one of the detached statements which constitute the
Upanishads, may be deduced as a necessary result from the fundamental
thoughts which I have to enunciate, though those deductions themselves
are by no means to be found there.
And again[19]: If I consider how difficult it is, even with the assistance of the
best and carefully educated teachers, and with all the excellent
philological appliances collected in the course of this century, to
arrive at a really correct, accurate, and living understanding of Greek
and Roman authors, whose language was after all the language of our own
predecessors in Europe, and the mother of our own, while Sanskrit, on
the contrary, was spoken thousands of years ago in distant India, and
can be learnt only with appliances which are as yet very imperfect;—if
I add to this the impression which the translations of Sanskrit works
by European scholars, with very few exceptions, produce on my mind, I
cannot resist a certain suspicion that our Sanskrit scholars do not
understand their texts much better than the higher class of schoolboys
their Greek. Of course, as they are not boys, but men of knowledge and
understanding, they put together, out of what they do understand,
something like what the general meaning may have been, but much
probably creeps in ex ingenio. It is still worse with the Chinese of
our European Sinologues. If then I consider, on the other hand, that Sultan Mohammed Dârâ
Shukoh, the brother of Aurangzib, was born and bred in India, was a
learned, thoughtful, and enquiring man, and therefore probably
understood his Sanskrit about as well as we our Latin, that moreover
he was assisted by a number of the most learned Pandits, all this
together gives me at once a very high opinion of his translation of the
Vedic Upanishads into Persian. If, besides this, I see with what
profound and quite appropriate reverence Anquetil Duperron has treated
that Persian translation, rendering it in Latin word by word,
retaining, in spite of Latin grammar, the Persian syntax, and all the
Sanskrit words which the Sultan himself had left untranslated, though
explaining them in a glossary, I feel the most perfect confidence in
reading that translation, and that confidence soon receives its most
perfect justification. For how entirely does the Oupnekhat breathe
throughout the holy spirit of the Vedas! How is every one who by a
diligent study of its Persian Latin has become familiar with that
incomparable book, stirred by that spirit to the very depth of his
soul! How does every line display its firm, definite, and throughout
harmonious meaning! From every sentence deep, original, and sublime
thoughts arise, and the whole is pervaded by a high and holy and
earnest spirit. Indian air surrounds us, and original thoughts of
kindred spirits. And oh, how thoroughly is the mind here washed clean
of all early engrafted Jewish superstitions, and of all philosophy that
cringes before those superstitions! In the whole world there is no
study, except that of the originals, so beneficial and so elevating as
that of the Oupnekhat. It has been the solace of my life, it will be
the solace of my death! Though [20] I feel the highest regard for the religious and
philosophical works of Sanskrit literature, I have not been able to
derive much pleasure from their poetical compositions. Nay, they seem
to me sometimes as tasteless and monstrous as the sculpture of India. In [21] most of the pagan philosophical writers of the first Christian
centuries we see the Jewish theism, which, as Christianity, was soon to
become the faith of the people, shining through, much as at present we
may perceive shining through in the writings of the learned, the native
pantheism of India, which is destined sooner or later to become the
faith of the people. Ex oriente lux.
This may seem strong language, and, in some respects, too strong.
But I thought it right to quote it here, because, whatever may be urged
against Schopenhauer, he was a thoroughly honest thinker and honest
speaker, and no one would suspect him of any predilection for what has
been so readily called Indian mysticism. That Schelling and his school
should use rapturous language about the Upanishads, might carry little
weight with that large class of philosophers by whom everything beyond
the clouds of their own horizon is labelled mysticism. But that
Schopenhauer should have spoken of the Upanishads as “products of the
highest wisdom” “(Ausgeburt der höchsten Weisheit)[22]”, that he should have
placed the pantheism there taught high above the pantheism of Bruno,
Malebranche, Spinoza, and Scotus Erigena, as brought to light again at
Oxford in 1681[23], may perhaps secure a more considerate reception for
these relics of ancient wisdom than anything that I could say in their
favour.
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