This is the true solution of those enigmatical lithoi, by which the ancients represented the bounty of Providence. Maghody was the name appropriated to him under this character; and the import of this word conveying, literally, the idea of the Good God, shows the philosophic feeling, no less than it does the religious seriousness, of the grateful contrivers.[239] And while reminded by the thought, perhaps I may be permitted, with humble deference, to suggest to literary gentlemen occupied in the translation of Eastern manuscripts, that whenever they meet with any proper name of the inconceivable Godhead, or of any place or temple devoted to his use, and beginning with the word Magh; such as Magh-Balli-Pura;[240] they should not render Magh by great,—which hitherto had been the practice,—but by good; as it is not the power of the divinity that is thereby meant to be signified, but his bounty: such as his votaries chiefly supplicated, and such as was most influential to ensure their fealty.
“Christnah, the Indian Apollo, is the darling,” says Archer, “of the Hindoo ladies; and in his pranks, and the demolishing pitchers of milk, or milk-pitchers, has acquired a fame infinitely surpassing that enjoyed by the hero of the agreeable ditty entitled Kitty of Coleraine!”
I confess I do not understand the levity of temperament which betrays itself in this witticism. For my part I cannot contemplate any form of religion without a sensation of awe. There may be much imposture, much also of hypocrisy, and no small share of self-delusion amongst individuals of every sect, but sincerity will be found in the aggregate of each: and where certainty is not attainable by finite comprehensions, nay, where unity is incompatible with freedom of thought and will, it would more become us, methinks, to make allowance for each other’s weaknesses, than to vilify any worship, which, after all, may only differ from our own as to mode. Christianity, beyond a question, does not inculcate such intolerance. The true follower of that faith recognises in every altar an evidence of common piety; perceives in every articulation of the name of Lord, a mutual sense of dependence and a similar appeal for succour; and taking these as inlets into the character of the supplicant, he traces an approximation to that hope whereby he is himself sustained, and rejoices in the discovery: yet it is no less true, that, when superadded to these generalities, he beholds the “image” of his Creator, acknowledging the mission of the second Godhead, and, by reliance on the all-fulness of his immaculate atonement, immersed in the waters of regenerating grace, his bosom expands with more gladness, and he welcomes the stranger as a brother.
That the rebuke here intended is not gratuitous or uncalled for, I refer to the testimony of Sir William Jones, who, with some infusion, I regret, of the same irony and incredulity, offers the following portrait, the result of tardy conviction of the superhuman qualifications of this identical Christnah, viz.: “The prolix accounts of his life are filled with narratives of a most extraordinary kind, and most strangely variegated. This incarnate deity of Sanscrit romance was not only cradled, but educated among shepherds. A tyrant, at the time of his birth, ordered all the male infants to be slain. He performed amazing, but ridiculous miracles, and saved multitudes partly by his miraculous powers, and partly by his arms: and raised the dead, by descending for that purpose into the infernal regions. He was the meekest and best tempered of beings; washed the feet of the Brahmans, and preached indeed sublimely, but always in their favour. He was pure and chaste in reality, but exhibited every appearance of libertinism. Lastly, he was benevolent and tender, and yet fomented and conducted a terrible war.”
Mahony, also, is a reluctant witness to the same effect. “The religion of Bhoodha,” says he, “as far as I have had any insight into it, seems to be founded on a mild and simple morality. Bhoodha has taken for his principles wisdom, justice, and benevolence; from which principles emanate ten commandments, held by his followers as the true and only rule of their conduct. He places them under three heads, thought, word, and deed; and it may be said that the spirit of them is becoming and well-suited to him, whose mild nature was first shocked at the sacrifice of cattle.”[241]
I have already shown that Budha is but a title, embodying an abstract; that, therefore, it was not limited to one individual, but applied indiscriminately to a series. As I shall soon bring this succession nearer to our own fire-hearths, and, in a way, perhaps, which may, else, electrify over-sensitive nerves, it may be prudent that I should premise another citation, descriptive of an answer, made by a dignitary of their creed, to the last-mentioned author upon his enunciating a principle of the Hindoo doctrine. “The Hindoos,” rejoined the priest, “must surely be little acquainted with this subject, by this allusion to only one (incarnation). Bhoodha, if they mean Bhoodha Dhannan Raja, became man, and appeared as such in the world at different periods, during ages before he had qualified himself to be a Bhoodha. These various incarnations took place by his supreme will and pleasure, and in consequence of his superior qualifications and merits. I am therefore inclined to believe, that the Hindoos, who thus speak of the incarnation of a Bhoodha, cannot allude to him whose religion and law I preach, who is now a resident of the hall of glory, situated above the twenty-sixth heaven.”
Now it is stated in the Puranas, that a giant, named Sancha-mucha-naga, in the shape of a snake, with a mouth like a shell, and whose abode was in a shell, having two countenances, was killed by Christnah; and as this irresistibly directs our reflection to the early part of the Book of Genesis, I shall adduce what Mr. Deane has set forth on this latter head.
“The tradition of the serpent,” says he, “is a chain of many links, which, descending from Paradise, reaches, in the energetic language of Homer,
‘Τοσσον ἕνερθ’ ἀϊδεω, ὅσον ουρανός ἐστ’ ἀπο γαίης,’
but conducts, on the other hand, upwards to the promise, that ‘the seed of the woman should bruise the serpent’s head.’... The mystic serpent entered into the mythology of every nation, consecrated almost every temple, symbolised almost every deity, was imagined in the heavens, stamped upon the earth, and ruled in the realms of everlasting sorrow.... This universal concurrence of traditions proves a common source of derivation, and the oldest record of the legend must be that upon which they are all founded. The most ancient record of the history of the serpent-tempter is the Book of Genesis! In the Book of Genesis, therefore, is the fact from which almost every superstition connected with the mythological serpent is derived.”[242]