The Brahman’s existence as drawn in the law-books is a description of what the writers thought ought to be done rather than of the general practice.  Still it cannot be dismissed as imaginary, for the Nambutiri[213] Brahmans of Travancore have not yet abandoned a mode of life which is in essentials that prescribed by Manu and probably that led by Brahmans in the seventh century B.C. or earlier[214].

They are for the most part landowners dwelling in large houses built to accommodate a patriarchal family and erected in spacious compounds.  In youth they spend about eight years in learning the Veda, and in mature life religious ceremonies, including such observances as bathing and the preparation of meals, occupy about six hours of the day.  As a profession, the performance of religious rites for others is most esteemed.  In food, drink and pleasures, the Nambutiris are almost ascetics:  their rectitude, punctiliousness and dignity still command exaggerated respect.  But they seem unproductive and petrified, even in such matters as literature and scholarship, and their inability to adapt themselves to changing conditions threatens them with impoverishment and deterioration.

Yet the ideal Brahmanic life, which by no means excludes intellectual activity, is laid out in severe and noble lines and though on its good side somewhat beyond the reach of human endeavour and on its bad side overloaded with pedantry and superstition, it combines in a rare degree self-abnegation and independence.  It differs from the ideal set up by Buddhism and by many forms of Hinduism which preach the renunciation of family ties, for it clearly lays down that it is a man’s duty to continue his family and help his fellow men just as much as to engage in religious exercises.  Thus, the Satapatha Brahmana[215] teaches that man is born owing four debts, one to the gods, one to the Rishis or the sages to whom the Vedic hymns were revealed, one to his ancestors and one to men.  To discharge these obligations he must offer sacrifices, study the Veda, beget a son and practise hospitality.

The tranquil isolation of village life in ancient India has left its mark on literature.  Though the names of teachers are handed down and their opinions cited with pious care, yet for many centuries after the Vedic age we find no books attributed to human authors.  There was an indifference to literary fame among these early philosophers and a curious selflessness.  Doctors disputed as elsewhere, yet they were at no pains to couple their names with theories or sects.  Like the Jewish Rabbis they were content to go down to posterity as the authors of a few sayings, and these are mostly contributions to a common stock with no pretension to be systems of philosophy.  The Upanishads leave an impression of a society which, if reposeful, was also mentally alert and tolerant to an unusual degree.  Much was absent that occupied the intelligence of other countries.  Painting,