has to read these texts with the help of the esoteric
light, and after having mastered the language of the
Brahmanic Secret Code—branded generally
as “theological twaddle.” Nor is
it sufficient—if one would judge correctly
of what the archaic Aryans did or did not know; whether
or not they cultivated the social and political virtues;
cared or not for history—to claim proficiency
in both Vedic and classical Sanskrit, as well as in
Prakrit and Arya Bhasha. To comprehend the esoteric
meaning of ancient Brahmanical literature, one has,
as just remarked, to be in possession of the key to
the Brahmanical Code. To master the conventional
terms used in the Puranas, the Aranyakas and Upanishads
is a science in itself, and one far more difficult
than even the study of the 3,996 aphoristical rules
of Panini, or his algebraical symbols. Very true,
most of the Brahmans themselves have now forgotten
the correct interpretations of their sacred texts.
Yet they know enough of the dual meaning in their
scriptures to be justified in feeling amused at the
strenuous efforts of the European Orientalist to protect
the supremacy of his own national records and the
dignity of his science by interpreting the Hindu hieratic
text after a peremptory fashion quite unique.
Disrespectful though it may seem, we call on the
philologist to prove in some more convincing manner
than usual, that he is better qualified than even the
average Hindu Sanskrit pundit to judge of the antiquity
of the “language of the gods;” that he
has been really in a position to trace unerringly
along the lines of countless generations the course
of the “now extinct Aryan tongue” in its
many and various transformations in the West, and
its primitive evolution into first the Vedic, and then
the classical Sanskrit in the East, and that from
the moment when the mother-stream began deviating
into its new ethnographical beds, he has followed it
up. Finally that, while he, the Orientalist,
can, owing to speculative interpretations of what
he thinks he has learnt from fragments of Sanskrit
literature, judge of the nature of all that he knows
nothing about—i.e., to speculate upon the
past history of a great nation he has lost sight of
from its “nascent state,” and caught up
again but at the period of its last degeneration—the
native student never knew, nor can ever know, anything
of that history. Until the Orientalist has proved
all this, he can be accorded but small justification
for assuming that air of authority and supreme contempt
which is found in almost every work upon India and
its Past. Having no knowledge himself whatever
of those incalculable ages that lie between the Aryan
Brahman in Central Asia, and the Brahman at the threshold
of Buddhism, he has no right to maintain that the
initiated Indo-Aryan can never know as much of them
as the foreigner. Those periods being an utter
blank to him, he is little qualified to declare that
the Aryan, having had no political history “of
his own....” his only sphere was “religion