SCM ae aL RTT TCU ELI ets a tiit GENERAL EDITORS K. M. MUNSHI R. R. DIWAKARStands far Bharatiya Shiksha must ensure that no promising young Indian of character having faith in Bharat and her culture Bharatiya Vidya should be left without modern educational equipment by reason merely of want of funds. 2. Bharatiya Shiksha must be formative more than in- formative, and cannot have for its end mere acquisition of Knowledge. Its legitimate sphere is not only to develop natural talents but so to shape them as to enable them to Tesorb and express the permanent values of Bharatiya Vidya. 3. Bharatiya Shiksha must take into account not only the full growth of a student’s personality but the totality 0! his relations and lead hiro to the highest self-fulfilment of which he is capable. 4. Bharatiya Shiksha must involve at some stage Of other an intensive study of Sanskrit or Sanskritic languages and their titerature, without excluding, if so desired. the study ‘of othes languages and literature. ancient and moder, »\& $.. The reintegration of Bharatiya Vidya, which ts me primary object of Bharatiya Shiksha, can only be attained through a study of forces, movements, motives, iddas, forms and art of creative life-energy through.which it has expressed itself in different ages as a single continuous process. 6. Bharatiya Shiksha must stimulate the student's power of expression, both written and oral, at every stage in accordance with the highest ideals attained by the great literary masters io the @tellectual and moral spheres. 7. The technique of Bharatiya Shiksha must involve— (a) the adoption by the teacher of the Guru attitude which consists in taking a personal interest in the student; inspiring and encouraging him to achieve distinction in his studies; entering into his life with a view to form ideals and remove _psycholo, ee and creating in him a spirit of consecration en ) the adoption the student of the Shish; ey nse entice: see) (i) respect for the teacher, ii) a spirit of inquiry, (iii) a spirit of service towards the institution, Bharat and Bharatiya Wages 6. The ultimate aim of Bharatiya Shiksha is to teach f generation to appreciate and live up to the penn, os values of Bharatiya Vidya which flowing from the summtate™ of creative life-energy as represented ty, Shri Ramach:; Sane Shri Krishna, Vyasa, Buddha and Mahavira have seeendre themselves in modern times in the life of Shri Raneepresse? Paramahamsa, Swami Dayananda Saraswati, guqn*ktishns Vivekananda, Shri Aurobindo and Mahatma Gandhi © S¥8ta 9. Bharatlya Shiksha while equipping the st tind of scientific and technical training must teach te iodo to sacrifice an ancient form or attitude to an unreasonin, “at Bot for change; not to retain a form or attitude which in the feniee modern times can be teplaced by another form or attitude wns cf eer oe mare saeeie expression of the spirit of B) chi ‘idya; ure the spirit . pooch it to the sond PEN Bre COE TeREH peasiation 0an Raq: saat ag aa Let noble thoughts come to us from every side —Rigveda, 1-89-i ARR eee -BHAVAN’S BOOK UNIVERSITY General Editors K. M. MUNSHI R. R. DIWAKAR 60 INDIAN TRAVEL DIARY OF A PHILOSOPHER By Count HERMANN KEYSERLING Translated from German BY J. Horroyp-REECBBHAVAN’S BOOK UNIVERSITY Organising Committee: Litavatt Munsxi—Chairman K. K. Brrta S. G. NBVATIA J..H. Dave S. RAMAKRISHNANBHAVAN’S BOOK UNIVERSITY INDIAN TRAVEL DIARY OF A PHILOSOPHER By . COUNT HERMANN KEYSERLING Translated from German By J. HOLROYD-REECE ARATIYA VIDYA BHAVANFirst Published by Jonathan Cape in London in 1925 All rights reserved First Edition 1959 Second ,, 1969 Price ; Rs. 2.50 PRINTED IN INDIA By P. M. Sirur at Sirur Printing Press, Khetwadi 12th Lane, Bombay 4, and published by S. Ramakrishnan, Executive Secretary, Bharatiya Vidya “Bhavan, Bombay 7.GENERAL EDITOR’S PREFACE THe Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan—that Institute of Indian Culture in Bombay—needed a Book University, a series of books which, if read, would serve the purpose of providing higher education. Particular emphasis, however, was to be put on such literature as revealed the deeper impulsions of India. As a first step, it was decided to bring out in English 100 books, 50 of which were to be taken in hand almost at once. Each book was to contain from 200 to 250 pages and was to be priced at Rs. 2.50. It is our intention to publish the books we select, not only in English, but also in the following Indian languages; Hindi, Bengali, Gujarati, Marathi, Tamil, Telugu, Kannada and Malayalam. This scheme, involving the publication of 900 volumes, re- quires ample funds and an all-India organisation. The Bhavan is exerting its utmost to supply them. The objectives for which the Bhavan ‘stands are the re- integration of the Indian culture in the light of modern know- ‘ledge and to suit our present-day needs and the resuscitation of its fundamental values, in their pristine vigour. Let mé make our goal more explicit: We seek the dignity of man, which necessarily. implies the creation of social conditions which would allow him free- dom to evolve along the lines of his own temperament and capacities; we seek the harmony of individual efforts and social relations, not in any 'make-shift way, but within the frame-work of the Moral Order; we seek the creative art of life, by the alchemy of which human limitations are progressively trans- muted, so that man may become the instrument of God, and is able to see Him in all and all in Him. The world, we feel, is too much with us. Nothing would uplift or inspire us so much as the beauty and aspiration which such books can teach. In this series, therefore, the literature of India, ancient and modern, will be published in a form easily accessible tovi GENERAL EDITOR’S PREFACE all. Books in other literatures of the world, if they illustrate the principles we stand for, will also be included. This common pool of literature, it is hoped, will enable the reader, eastern or western, to understand and appreciate currents of world thought, as also the movements of the mind in India, which, though they flow through different linguistic channels, have a common urge and aspiration. Fittingly, the Book University’s first venture is the Maha- bharata, summarised by one of the greatest living Indians, C. Rajagopalachari; the second work is on a section of it. the Gita by H. V. Divatia, an eminent jurist and a student of philosophy. Centuries ago, it was proclaimed of the Mahabha- rata: “What is not in it, is nowhere.” After twenty-five cen- turies, we can use the same words about it. He who knows it not, knows not the heights and depths of the soul; he misses the trials and tragedy and the beauty and grandeur of life. - The Mahabharata is not a mere epic; it is a romance, telling the tale of heroic men and women and of some who were divine; it is a whole literature in itself, containing a code of life, a philosophy of social and éthical relations, and specu- lative thought on human problems that is hard to rival; but, above all, it has for its core the Gita, which is, as the world is beginning to find out, the noblest of sctiptures and the grand- est of sagas in which. the climax is reached in the wondrous Apocalypse in the Eleventh Canto. ‘Through such books alone the harmonies underlying true culture, I am convinced, will one day reconcile the disorders of modern life. : I thank all those who have helped to make this new branch of the Bhavan’s activity successful. 1, Queen Vicroria Roap, New DELHI: . HI K. M. MUNSHI wv, 3rd October 1951 GEER aTRANSLATOR’S PREFACE Tue fact that no translation, by its very nature, can be per- fect imposes the duty of choosing the best compromise upon the translator. This raises immediately all the problems which face the translator. In the case of an original text which is written in verse or which belongs to an age antecedent to that of the translator, he may rightly avail himself of every liberty. A passage of verse may be rendered in a line if by that means the rhythm, the cadence, the. vowel values can be preserved. He may equally employ a whole sentence to convey the mean- ing of the shade of a single.word which is not susceptible of direct translation. In the case of philosophic prose, the prose moreover not only of a contemporary but of a writer who him- self possesses a vast technical vocabulary in the language of the translator, all such freedom is denied. The author of the original text exacts precision above all in the rendering of his thought, and in this connection it is my privilege to give the reader an assurance which, hag I been dependent on my efforts alone, would be impossible. Count Keyserling, who writes and Jectures with ease in English, has worked upon my translation for many weeks, with the result that he himself is satisfied that the text which follows here is the accurate rendering of his meaning to such an extent that in so far as any differences of meaning exist between the original and the translation, they are alterations or revisions made personally by the author. - As far as the problem of conveying the meaning is con- cerned, therefore, my labour and the burden of responsibility are indeed light, and it is only fair to allow the reader an in- sight into the nature and extent of my indebtedness by saying that in many cases I had so far failed to seize the intention of the author that there are entire passages in the English text from the pen of the author. . The compromise to which my labours therefore appear to be confined is the problem of making a match between the meaning of the author's text and the requirements of English prose. Count Keyserling defined in no equivocal manner the conditions which I had to satisfy. He wrote to me:TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE viit ‘An meinem Reisetagebuch habe ich volle sieben Jahre gearbeitet, und es steht kein Wort und kein Komma darin, dessen Sinn und Ort nicht genau bedacht waren. Niemand wird dem Ubersetzer je verzeihen, der seine ‘Arbeit nicht mit der unbedingten Ehrfurcht vor dom Ori- ginaltext und mit der absoluten Hingebung an eine grosse Sache geleistet hatte, welche Carlyle Goethe geneniiber bewies.’ He then enjoined me to translate ‘strikt wOrtlich, Wort fiir Wort, und Komma fiir Komma, ... Bringen Sie unter gartkeinen Umstinden ein ‘und’ an, das nicht im Originaltext stinde (jedes von Ihnen gesetzte ‘und’ habe ich ausstreichen miissen), halten Sie sich peinlich genau an meine Kommata, Semikolons und Punkte, ziehen Sie unter gartkeinen Umstanden S&tze zusammen, die ich getrennt habe und bedenken Sie iiberall, dass Sie es in mir mit einem strengen, dynamischen, konzentrierten Geist zu tun haben, der nicht die leiseste Verdiinnung und En- tspannung des Styls vertragt. .. Bedenken Sie weiter, dass die Uebersetzung der deutschen Musik in englische, von der wir damals miindlich sprachen, doch nur so zu ver- stehen sein kann, dass mein, genauer Takt, mein Rythmus. meine Melodie nun englisch erklange, nicht dass irgend etwas anderes as seine Stelle gesetzt werden diirfte. In- ssofern bitte ich, meine Korrekturen als endgiiltige Ver- besserungen aufzufassen.” Conditions of such stringency reduce of necessity the scope * of corrections, which even a distinguished stylist could attempt, to a negligible minimum, while they offer to the English rea- der simultaneously an absolute guarantee that the present volumes suffer in no way from the interposition of the style or ‘onality of the translator between the thought of the author and its English equivalent. Jf, in the circumstances, I frankly acknowledge the cons- ciousness of much which is unorthodox in style, in grammar, in punctuation, and if I confess even to coining words, not to griention the liberty of attaching a special meaning to certain words and phrases whose recurrence alone will make them clear to the reader, I will have demonstrated at any rate thar the faults of the translation are mine. jeer epg epee I ofTRANSLATOR'S PREFACE ix My friend, Lyle D. Vickers, has removed innumerable Dlemishes both in my manuscript and in the proofs in the course of weeks of watches far into the small hours of the night which he kept faithfully from the, beginning to the end of my work, and only those who have laboured likewise can appreciate the whole-hearted and unforgettable devotion such service entails. Another debt it is a pleasure to record is the assistance I shave had from Mr. R. G. Curtis, who has typed with incredi- ble speed and accuracy two complete versions of the some quarter of a million words in these two volumes. The printers, too, have lessened my difficulties considerably by their great care and accuracy of composition. Finally, if there be any virtue in my work, I dedicate my labour to her, but for whose infinite kindliness and encouragement in the face of almost in- surmountable difficulties, this translation would never have seen the light of day. — . J. HOLROYD-REECE-INTRODUCTION Tus volume should be read like a novel. Although a con- siderable part consists of elements created in me by the ex- ternal stimulus of a journey round the world, and although it contains many objective descriptions and abstract commen- taries which might well have been written separately, this book in its entirety represents, nevertheless, an inwardly con- ceived and inwardly coherent work of fiction, and only those who regard it as such will understand its real meaning. Con- cerning this meaning I will say nothing in advance. It will .be revealed to those who are prepared to follow the wanderer ‘willingly through his many moods and transformations, never forgetting that facts as such never are an object to me, but only a means of expressing their significance, which exists in- dependently of them. They must not take offence when they find that observations on the cultures of foreign places alter- nate with personal introspection, that precise descriptions fol- low upon poetic re-creations; that many, perhaps most, of my descriptive passages do justice rather to potentialities than to facts; above all, my readers must not be led astray by the con- tradictions necessarily imposed on me by a change of point of view or mood which I have sometimes forborne to explain in so many words. Those who are prepared to read my book in this spirit will, I hope, before they reach the end, have caught a glimpse not so much of a philosophy possible in theory, but rather of an attitude of soul and mind capable of attainment in practice, in which many an ominous problem will appear to be solved from the beginning, irreconcilable contradictions will pass away, and a newer and fuller signi- ficance will be tevealed. * * = _.. Thus I wrote in June 1914. My book was to have ap- peared in the autumn of that year, War was declared and, as a result, until Esthonia was occupied by German troops, means of communication between my publisher and Suysel was cut off. He had in his possession the first volume to press and I was left with the proofs of the se- rend. ia Bite of the Jong interval of time which had elapsediINTRODUCTION xf I am publishing my diary on the whole unaltered. In so far as. the book owes its existence to an oriental attitude of mind, it belongs altogether to the 1911-14 period of my creative efforts, and for this reason any attempt to rewrite it from a different point of view could only have detracted from its merits. Only the last two sections — America and Raykiill — have not only been altered during the war, but rewritten al- most entirely. I found this step necessary in order to com- plete my undertaking. In 1914, I was so much influenced by the East that I was unable to express myself adequately asa. ‘Westerner; as a result, certain relevant passages lacked clarity and conviction; in order to round off and to complete the: whole in accordance with my conception, in order to give in the ‘Finale’ the living Fazit of my digressions round the world — for this task I was altogether too close to my object. To-day" I believe I have done as much towards this end as my faculties permit. The long, oppressing period of horror came: to benefit at least one creative effort... HERMANN KEYSERLING PUBLISHERS’ NOTE This volume contains only the Indian portion of the: author’s “Travel Diary” During the last few years, many place-names have been changed, They have, however, been retained in this volume as. originally used by the author. .*CONTENTS ‘GENERAL EDITOR'S PREFACE we ae v “TRANSLATOR’S PREFACE te a vii AUTHOR’s INTRODUCTION we ws x PusLisHers’ NOTE oo we xi BEFORE THE START we eee Xi 1. RAMESHWARAM we we 1 2. Mapbura : ae we 5 3. TANJORE a on 20 | 4, CONJEEVARAM we ae 22 5. MAHABALIPURAM see oo 25. 6. ADYAR we we 7 7. ELLora see ae B 8. UDaIpuR on we 83 9. CHITOR : tee we 89 10. JAIPUR te a 92 11. DeLHt Ta af = 98 12. AGRA - ae see 112 13. BENARES we ws 118 14. Buppwa-Gaya ae ae 198 15. THe Himatayas ae we 203 | 16. CALCUTTA : ase we 224BEFORE THE START Wuy should I still go travelling? — My wandering days lie behind me; past are the times in which the mere acquisition of material enriched me inwardly. In those days inward growth coincided with the expansion of the surface; I was mentally in the position of the child whose body must grow primarily before one can speak of development in any other sense. How- ever, no child, no matter how vital it may be, grows indefi- nitely. At one time or another, every one reaches the critical stage, at which he can. go no further in the former sense, and the question presents itself: whether he is to stagnate entirely or to transfer his development into a new dimension. And, since life, wherever it is not exhausted, is incapable of stagna- tion, the necessary change of dimension takes place automati- cally at a certain age. Every individual, as he becomes mature, strives after greater depth and involution from the very same motives which in his earlier years directed his efforts to expan- sion and enrichment. If I stop.to compare the kind and the degree of my present power and desire for experience with that of a previous period, I notice one fundamental difference; jn earlier days every new impression, every new fact entered into my growing individuality as an integral factor, and my individuality grew in proportion to the quantity of facts it took in. Through every new experience I gained a new means of expression; every new. point of view strengthened my_cons- ciousness of self, and therefore it was not senseless if I lived in the hope, as it were, of snatching from without what spur- red me on from within, though it had not yet revealed itself to me. By the time that my organs grew stronger I had learnt to control them better; when-new formations within my being became less frequent and the soul of the whole came to mani- fest itself in every particular more and more, my interest in particulars began to wane proportionately. It had never beer more than preliminary. one may almost say, a pretext to me. To-day no fact as such troubles me any more, I am not fond of reading. I hardly need my fellowmen, and I am tending more and more towards the lifé of a hermit, in which shape I can doubtlessly fulfil my ‘destiny better than in any other. There is'no help for it; I am a metaphysician and can be nothing else (no matter what else I may undertake, be it suc-xiv BEFORE THE START cessful or not), and this means that I am seriously interested only in the world’s potentialities, not in its actualities. As a matter of habit and partially as a form of self-discipline, I keep up with the progress of the natural sciences, I go on Studying the peculiarities of those who cross my path, or I read the books in which they have expressed themselves, but all this concerns me no more. What, then, is the explanation of the deeply rooted instinct which bade my travel round the world — an instinct no less imperious than the one which in earlier days bade me move, in unfailing sequence, from clime to clime, to maintain the equilibrium of my precarious health by external means? It is not curiosity; my antipathy towards all ‘sight-seeing,’ in so far as it does not bear any relation to my inner aspirations, has steadily increased, Nor is it in pursuit of any search, for there is no longer any particular problem which my being could take really seriously. The impulse which drives me into the wide world is precisely the same as that which drives so many into monasteries; the desire for self-realisation. Some years ago, when I determined to live at Raykiill, I imagined that I needed the world no longer. And indeed I would not have stood in need of it had I conceived my goal to be the ripening of ideas which had already begun to shoot in. me, for their development is nowhere less endangered than in seclusion, which is poor in, or barren of, external stimulus. But I expected more than that of Raykiill. I had hoped that its seclusion would help me to that ultimate self-realisation, thanks to which the thoughts which would come to me might appear as the pure expression of metaphysical reality; I had hoped that there I would grow beyond all accidental fetters of time and space. This hope was disappointed. I had to re- cognise, that although in my solitude I became more and more ‘myself,’ it was not in the metaphysical but in the em- pirical. sense, and that was the precise opposite of what I aimed at, I had to recognise that it was too early for me to renounce the world. For most mortals personality may signify the great- est of blessings; it is the tragedy of tragedies for the metaphy- sician that he cannot ever entirely overcome his own indivi- duality. Keats says of the poet: ‘The poetical nature has no self —it-is everything and nothing; it has no character —a poet has no identity — he is continually in for and filling some other body.’ He might have added that the poet ought aboveBEFORE THE START kv all to be selfiess in this sense, and that + Succeeds in this, is he capable of full eNjs true in a higher degree and-if.a far profounder sense ofvthe ihphysician: the relatiof of the metaphysician to the poet is comparable with-thefelation of the poet to the actor. The comedian presente;“the poet creates; the metaphysician ifid every possible representation and crea- tion. Therefo: ¢ must never look upon.any form as final, never feel himself identical with anything or anyone; the cen- tre of his consciousness must coincide with that of the world; he must look upon every separate appearance from: God’s point of view. This is especially so where his own individua- lity and his own philosophy are concerned. Raykiill did. not favour this process of interiorisation. I, like so many others, began to regard the fossibilities of the world as being exhaus- ted by some purely personal formula, to treat private and ac- cidental peculiarities as necessary attributes of Being. I began to become ‘Personality.’ And thus I recognised how wise Py- thagoras and Plato had been in extending their wanderings right into the later stages of their mature manhood. ‘The in- evitable process of crystallisation must be averted as long as possible; as long as possible Proteus must remain Protean, because only men with a Protean nature are called to the priesthood of metaphysics. I therefore determined to return to the world. . ont iB How far does the world help towards the self-realisation which I desire? We are usually told that the world hinders it. It helps him whose nature possesses the corresponding quali- ties, by forcing his soul continually to ever-new formations. Since I grew up impressions as such do not.réally mean any- thing to me; my mind does not gain by the mere acquisition of new material. But then again, my psychical being as a whole now Teacts differently according to the circumstances in which it finds itself, and these differences Open up to me vistas of realities which have hitherto been hidden from me. To the immutable, once he has reached maturity, the world can, of course, be of no use; the more he sees, experiences and learns, the more superficial does he become, because he has to under. stand many aspects of reality with organs which have, so to speak, been trained to observe only one particular angle of it, which must needs lead him to receive false impressions.xvi BEFORE THE START ry Such a man would do well to remain in his own sphere. On the other hand, the supple individual, who is transformed by new ‘surroundings in accordance with their peculiarities, can never experience enough, for he gains profundity from every metamorphosis. By feeling in his own body and soul how limited every form is in general, what sensations each experi- ence gives him in particular, how one is linked to another, the centre .of his consciousness gradually sinks to the bottom where Being truly dwells. When he has cast anchor there, he is no longer in danger of placing an exaggerated value on any single phenomenon; he will understand instinctively all special experience from the point of view of its universal significance. A God. lives thus from the beginning, by virtue of his nature. Man slowly approaches the same condition by passing through the whole’ range of experience. I therefore begin my journey round the world. Europe has nothing more to give me. Its life is too familiar to force my being to new developments. Apart from this, it is too nar- rowly. confined. The whole of Europe is essentially of one spirit. I wish to go to latitudes where my life must become quite different to make existence possible, where understand- ing necessitates a radical renewal of one’s means of compre- hension, latitudes where I will be forced to forget that which up to now I knew and was as much as possible. I want to let the climate of the tropics, the Indian mode of consciaus- ness, the Chinese code of life and many other factors, which I cannot envisage in advance, work their spell upon me one after the other, and then watch what will become of me. When J shall have perceived all the co-ordinates, I ought also to have determined their centre. I ought then to have passed beyond all accidents of time and space. Tf anything at all will Jead me to myself, a digression round the world will do so.1. RAMESHVARAM As the night began, the Brahmins signed to me to enter the temple. I followed them without knowing what I was to do. There I beheld pilgrims without number, hierophants and temple servitors, round elephants decked out like ikons, and carriages and stretchers gleaming with gold in the light of torches. They were preparing for a procession. And before I knew where I was, I found myself at the head of it. In front of me, elephants, the most trusted bearers of tradition, moved with their dignified motion. Behind me followed the goddess, aloft on her high throne on a precious palanquin. Thus we paced amidst the rattle of drums and the harsh sound of cla- rionets, in a solemn round until late at night, through the most marvellous cloisters in the world. The walls were lined with the faithful, whom one could behold only when suddenly illu- minated by the torches, bowing in fearful reverence. What a wondrous introduction into the land of India! The Temple of Raméshvaram, on the southern extremity of the peninsula, lies there lonely, in a palm grove surrounded by the sea. It is a building hardly smaller than the largest monasteries of our Middle Ages, and its passages cannot be rivalled for beauty of form and colour anywhere else on earth. This tem- ple is said to have been founded by Rama himself after he had conquered Sita from Ravana. It is considered the second most holy place of Hindustan. Every one who can possibly manage to do so makes the: pilgrimage to this place after going to Benares. And indeed, the whole of India seems to be repre- sented here, I can see every colour, every costume, every type, from the dusky Tamils to the white-skinned men from Kash- mir; I find proud Rajputs on the one hand and Sanyasins on the other, whose hair has turned to a mass of felt. Languages and dialects without number resound in the air, a hundred different traditions speak from the different faces; caste rubs shoulders with caste, and prejudice with prejudice. I have never seen such a variety among men before. What strikes me is that, in spite of the extraordinary dif- ferences among the pilgrims, somehow or other they are the expression of one mind. In what sense? In that of faith? Per- haps that is so, but that is not what I mean; I mean something which I have never seen before. I do not mean the metaphy- ITD-12 INDIAN TRAVEL DIARY OF A PHILOSOPHER sical consciousness that everything external somehow belongs together inwardly, for, no matter how characteristic it may be of the best type of Indians, in those who are gathered” together here — mostly simple, humble folk, incapable of speculation — this quality is probably developed only to a very small degree. What impresses me so much is the existence of a state of cons- ciousness which permits them to perceive realities which are quite beyond the average Westerner. These pilgrims apparently understand the significance of symbols. And in their case it is not a question of holding that childlike belief which expresses the relation of the uneducated Catholic to his cult, nor is it a case of the direct understanding of the cultured individual, in whom a posteriori realisation springs out of reflective recogni- tion. These pilgrims seem to perceive the significance of sym- bols absolutely directly; their souls appear to be affected direct- ly by holy words (mantras). This presupposes a state of cons- ciousness which differs materially from that of the average European. I am not unfamiliar with it. He who can transfer the action of his consciousness from the sphere of material things into the world of mental images, so that he takes these more seriously than material phenomena and sees in them that which is essentially real, will discover that, in the process, he acquires new possibilities of experience. While in the ordi- ~ nary course of events, conceptual relations gain their signifi- cance only in connection with external nature, he now per- ceives their true significance, which is entirely independent of all externals. And this shows that concepts may have a signi- ficance in a double direction : in the usual sense, as pictures or images of objective realities, or else as direct manifestations of a meaning which originally belongs to them. Every one who has gone to religious ceremonies with an open mind will have experienced that their effect varies; some of them do not move us at all, others move us strongly. There seems to be normal forms for the progress of inner experience, just, as there are forms or laws of nature. Certain associations of sounds and concepts seem to correspond, with extraordinary constancy, with certain psychic meanings. No doubt our consciousness must. move on a certain level before these underlying laws can be perceived; the modern European, whose soul is in the average conditions, feels little enough of this. From his point of view, he is not unjustified in denying them, because to himRAMESHVARAM 3 they do not apply; they do not apply to him in the same sense in which the laws of musical harmony are invalid for an un- musical ‘person. As a rule he will be conscious of the special connection which exists between sounds and psychic realities only in the case of music, and more rarely, in the case of poetry, for in these cases he surrenders himself freely to thythm and the sequence of mental images, and thus realises what would otherwise be beyond his power of experience; just so, divine services may move him when a severe shock has tempo- rarily transferred the centre of his consciousness. Nevertheless, even he can know that in symbolical actions, which are execu- ted in accordance with ancient tradition, it is not always a question of accidental association between significance and appearance. But, knowing and experiencing ate two different things. What most Europeans recognise in theory belongs to the self-evident experience of most pilgrims who have piously gathered together in Rameshvaram. Their faces reveal unmis- takably their understanding of the significance of the ceremo- nies which they attend. If they are told that a certain Mantra is Devata (that a certain association of sounds represents the true body of the deity), that imagining certain images in a certain sequence would really bring about the intended Teality, that invocations were truly potent, that spiritual exercises train- ed the soul, then they would not only believe but also under- stand; they might understand what was intended. I understand tool. I know that psychic phenomena are just as objective as material ones, that mental images can become precisely such an incarnation of metaphysical realities as solid bodies do, and I understand that in principle it is possible everywhere to in- fluence matter through mind. However, what I understand and know is not of interest. The significant thing is that these sim- ple people possess this knowledge. They are not thinkers whose business it is to understand; they are incapable of anticipating a reality in their minds; they must actually experience, as ac- tually as they eat and sleep; they must, to put it briefly, possess the same relation to psychic realities as the Westerner . does to physical ones. . To-day I do not propose to continue these observations, and I do not wish to anticipate experience in imagination. However, I feel driven to express this much: if the normal state of consciousness of the pious Hindu is really such as it4 INDIAN TRAVEL DIARY OF A PHILOSOPHER appears to me to-day, then a great portion of the most extra- vagant assertions of their philosophy of ritual (Tantra) may be true. If formulae, ceremonies and incantations are accepted as corresponding directly with their significance, then it is easily possible that they can work ‘miracles.’ In this case they may really lead to all the results to which, in extreme instan- ces, they are capable of leading. And personally, I hardly doubt that the necessary presuppositions are correct. I behold the pilgrims round about me; they all have the eyes of dream- ers, they all look out into the world with curious inattention. On the other hand, they seem to be singularly attentive to con- ditions which are overlooked by the precise observer of nature. Their true home lies in another world. Is it real? This question js difficult to answer, because the gauge which we would use to answer it does not seem to be applicable now. If psychic phenomena are accepted as being fundamental, and mental images as being the densest form of reality, then dreams and experiences are of equal value, and invention and discovery are equally true. Then, too, there is hardly any difference bet- ween lies and truth. From our point of view, we would have to come to the conclusion that the Indians live in unreality, and, as a matter of fact, they generally fail in this world. But this would not solve the problem. Every form of conscious- ness reveals a different layer of nature. He who dwells in the world of the Hindu is subject to influences and has expe- riences unknown to others. In his case there are sequences of causation which cannot be demonstrated in other circumstan- ces. And it is “perfectly possible that, from the level at which he lives, the path to the final and profoundest self-reali- sation in thought is shorter and easier than it is from our level. Thus, I dare say that I have found the key to the pro- plem of the Indian outlook on the world. The Indian regards ychic phenomena as fundamental; these phenomena are more real to him than physical ones. Regarded from the angle of the absolute, this difference of accent makes his position as erroneous as that of those holding the opposite point of view, who believe that physical phenomena alone are real. But just as the Westerner has understood the nature of matter so pro- foundly because he has valued it too highly, so the Indian has penetrated more deeply into the psychic world than anybody else, because he has not taken any other than psychic pheno- mena seriously.2. MADURA THE Temple of Madura at night causes associations of horror to rise in my soul. When I walk about in the dusky, ill- illumined corridor with its oil lamps, and watch the curious play of shadows emanating from the strange performances of those who pray around greasy lingams, while hordes of bats flap their wings about me and wheel and squeak in the air; while I regard the many-armed gods, whose appearance is so much more terrible in artificial light than by day, I am re- minded of the rites of the Phoenicians, which have been des- cribed so impressively by Flaubert. I know quite well that nothing terrible is happening. Hinduism, as practised in the holy places of Southern India, is gentle and kind, but its tra- ditional forms bear unmistakable signs of the more savage times in which they were created. Kali demanded human sacri- fices, and she really demands them still. And Kali is the spouse of Shiva, to whom the Temple of Madura has been conse- crated; and Shiva himself is, from many points of view, terri- ble enough....I can’t help it: all the images are terrifying which are occasioned by the impressions of this night. But the horror thrills me. Now I can well understand why the earliest forms of worship were terrible and had to be so. I am remind- ed of the words which Dostoievsky places in the mouth of Dimitry Karamazoff; the primitive man among the brothers : “What seems disgraceful and dishonouring to the intelligence appears as pure beauty to the heart — so does beauty lie in Sodom? — Believe me, she dwells in Sodom for the majority of men.... It is awful that beauty is not only terrible but also mysterious. There the devil wrestles with God —and the bat- tle-field is the human heart.’ That is to say, man regards as beautiful that which enhances his consciousness of life. This result is brought about in primitive creatures only by the ecstasy of the flesh. Only in process of intoxication, lust or cruelty do such people get beyond themselves, only thus do they expe- tience what developed man experiences in the serene contem- plation of God. For this reason, the cults of the most-deeply religious people are always especially cruel in character during the early stages of the race; at that stage their religious cons- ciousness, as it were, exhausts its passion. Then orgies of lust and cruelty are perpetrated, men enjoy and suffer frantically,6 INDIAN TRAVEL DIARY OF A PHILOSOPHER life is created and destroyed in wild confusion. And it must be so. Primitive men are perfound only in their instincts; only sensual enthusiasm unites them to their substance; they can only experience and express what is deepest in them in ins- tinctive actions. And is this true only of human beings in an undeveloped condition? What is the significance of the cult which has again and again been made of the love of a man for a woman in Europe, and which not infrequently finds ex- pression in the most brutal form — what is it but a reaction against too intellectualised an outlook on the world? How many people are still in need of ‘spiritual’ drinks, of carnal excitement, of wild sensations, in order to rise to their own levels! They are all still, at any rate with a part of their being, on the level at which orgies and human sacrifice would mean the adequate expression of religious emotion.... The Hindus do not need human sacrifice — they are too feminine and gen- tle—in order to satisfy their lusts for destructions. But the whole of their cult is permeated by the spirit of animal pro- creation. Here, for the first time in my life, I behold the dis- play of sexual activity, not regarded as something unclean. but ‘as something holy, as symbolising the divine in nature. There was no obscene association in the minds of the faithful present at the feast of Rameshvaram, who beheld the union of Shiva and Shakti symbolised by puppets. None of the women who bowed before the lingam to-night seemed to differ in their attitude from that of a Spanish nun who prays to the ideal of the Immaculate Conception. Every Hindu devotee reveres sen- sual love as the image of divine creative force and uses it as the vehicle of pious thoughts of sacrifice. The Shastras teach that man and wife shall never approach each other without thinking that in this way Brahma is acting through them. They are taught to honour each other as divine while they love one another, not in the spirit of carnal enjoyment,. but in the sense of God-like pouring-out of Life. Thus animal ins- tincts are sanctified as the expression of divinity. “[ have never seen expressions so well adapted to the spirit of fertility as the swaying motion of the dancing girls in the temple during their solemn march round the images of their ‘ods. And as I turned my gaze from the girls to the images, with their curiously exaggerated stylisation. I suddenly became conscious of the identity of the spirit in both appearances.MADURA 1 ‘These images are the embodiment of our fundamental instincts, and they are the best possible embodiments. What are our instincts and passions without. reference to the spiritual unity, to what we call I, or soul? They are beings by themselves, truly demonic, to whom human form is hardly appropriate. Any one who has not met berserkers or satyrs, embodiments of lust or of the fury of destruction, will know from experience what I mean: such creatures are not human beings; they lie in so far as they represent themselves in human form; they are the personification of the elemental forces of nature. But this applies not only to these images, it applies to all who are pos- sessed entirely by one single passion. It applies to mothers, who are entirely obsessed by their maternal instinct, to brides, to whom their lovers are everything; it applies to the holy men and women whose heart embraces the world in the divine joy of giving. Every instinctive emotion endows the human face with a new expression which changes its whole character: in the one case it makes of man an animal,.in the other it beautifies him, transforms him into.a devil, or ennobles him to such an extent that we are right in speaking of a process of transfiguration. The means of expression possessed ‘by physi- cal nature are often insufficient to express these things ade- quately. The religious suspect behind appearance a special spirit which obsesses man from time to time; the artist feels impelled to create a special body which expresses his own being perfectly; in this way legions of divine images have been fashioned all over the face of the earth. Most of them are not what they ought to be. Aphrodite is not the personifi- cation of love, and the Virgin Mary is not personified mater- nity. Both goddesses are only images of human beings, not independent embodiments of fundamental forces. The mental outlook of the West was too scientific even during the Middle Ages, in order to express irrational forces perfectly. But this is just what the Hindu succeeded in doing. The figures in the Indian Pantheon, in so far as they embody primary forces, are so convincing that I am inclined to believe the seer who ‘told me once that they were the true likenesses of divine reality. In all probability such men alone are capable of similar creative activity who have not yet been crystallised into intel- lectual personalities. They must be men who are swayed by a variety of emotions, who are possessed now by one, now by8 INDIAN TRAVEL DIARY OF A PHILOSOPHER another instinct, without a clear consciousness of the unify- ing tie. Such beings, regarded from the Atman point of view, are superficial, because they know nothing of their real selves. But it is just for this reason that the profoundest in them can give soul to the surface, in a manner which is denied to the spiritualised. The particular elementary instincts are then con- densed into so much substance, and they grow into beings of such terrific power, that it is not surprising if many among us still believe to-day that they are essentially profound. It is in this sense that the Indian Pantheon, although a superficial product, yet possesses profundity. It is so tense and exhaustive an expression of the superficial in man and nature, as could never have been discovered by a profounder set of human eings. IT am not surprised that European visitors find it difficult to do justice to Dravidian art, for none of the usual criteria are applicable in this case. There is perhaps nothing in this temple which can be understood purely with one’s reason. There is no unified plan which underlies its structure; no general motive has controlled its execution and decoration, nor is it the expression of some particular mental concept. Its gran- deur, its monumental nature, lack symbolic significance; it is the accidental product of rich means. Its castellations seem to have sprung up haphazard like the arms of a coral reef, and its ornamentation resembles wild growth. The best comparison that'I can think of is to compare this temple with an agglo- meration of buds which grow and jostle each other in extra- vagant numbers, and the general appearance, which can only be discerned with difficulty, affects us as a freak of nature in the same way as some of those so-called Gothic cathedrals which the climber meets with in the Dolomites in the Tyrol. But there is a profound significance in this art to anyone who has understood its fundamental motive. It is the highest expression of physical imagination. Yesterday I wrote of the significance of the various Indian divinities, and I said that fundamental instincts were materialised in them in a manner which no other people could rival; and I added that such creations could only emanate from a non-unified psyche which was still essentially composed of many parts and had not yet been condensed into mental unity. The plastic art of the Hindus in its generality signifies the rebirth in imagination of theMADURA 9 whole of the unintellectualised forces of life. Hardly anything in life is by nature subject to reason, nor can it be traced to a mental cause. Desires, feelings, sensations, impulses, aspira- tions, the longing for growth and expansion, and the renun- ciation of age, are all essentially irrational phenomena, and we rob them of their nature in trying to rationalise them. This peculiarity of their nature is expressed in Indian art with a unique degree of truth. The Temple of Madura seems to have been created just as a primitive organism grows, without plan, without aim, without self-control, following every impulse blindly, changing suddenly from one phase to another, and only confined within its boundaries by fate. All the better does it express, for these reasons, every one of its moods; it knows nothing of renunciation or prejudice, and stands there, full- blown, full-blooded and full-coloured. The effect of the whole is necessarily imperfect, but its details are generally beautiful. The mastery of the Hindu in detail, as opposed to his insuf- ficiency in great structural concepts, is here given its deepest explanation and reason. While I was in Ceylon, I spent a great deal of my obser- vation in noting the vegetative character of mental creations in the tropics, and I expressed the assumption that Hinduism also, in its unlimited wealth, should be understood as a vege- tative process. I was right in principle, but 1 did not know then what tremendous potential forces lie within its spirit. Even there, where it possessed tropical men, it Preserved, in all the positive phases of its life, a controlling power to a very high degree. That which is absolutely true of Buddhism is true of Hinduism only in so far as it forms the background of its “structure. But of course, in this case also, there is no question of free mental creation, but rather animal-like development. Its processes are akin to nature just as much as the vegetative processes we have noted, only they are more active, more self- conscious and more deliberately aimed at a certain goal. An energetic spirit lies at the bottom of its growth, which gives its creations a force and tension which are lacking in those of the Buddhists, I am thinking of the astounding exaggeration which characterises all Indian mythology. In one case a Sage drinks - up the ocean; in another, a prince holds his nuptials with ten thousand virgins in one night; Gautama has passed through many lakhs of reincarnations before he became Buddha, and