The Bhagavadgîtâ, with the Sanatsugâtîya and the Anugîtâ — SBE Vol. 8 (trans. K. T. Telang, 1882)
The translator’s English as printed (K. T. Telang). The original-language text is not held; names are romanised as the translator printed them.
With this rough outline of the framework of the story before us, we are now in a position to consider the opposing arguments on the point above noted. Mr. Talboys Wheeler writes on that point as follows’: ‘But there remains one other anomalous characteristic of the history of the great war, as it is recorded in the Mahabharata, which cannot be passed over in silence; and that is the extraordinary abruptness and infelicity with which Brahmanical discourses, such as essays on law, on morals, sermons on divine things, and even instruction in the so-called sciences are recklessly grafted upon the main narrative. . . . Kṛishṇa and Arguna on the morning of the first day of the war, when both armies are drawn out in battle-array, and hostilities are about to begin, enter into a long and philosophical dialogue respecting the various forms of devotion which lead to the emancipation of the soul; and it cannot be denied that, however incongruous and irrelevant such a dialogue must appear on the eve of battle, the discourse of Kṛishṇa, whilst acting as the charioteer of Arguna, contains the essence of the most spiritual phases of Brahmanical teaching, and is expressed in language of such depth and sublimity, that it has become deservedly known as the Bhagavad-gita or Divine Song. . . . Indeed no effort has been spared by the Brahmanical compilers to convert the history of the great war into a vehicle for Brahmanical teaching; and so skilfully are many of these interpolations interwoven with the story, that it is frequently impossible to narrate the one, without referring to the other, however irrelevant the matter may be to the main subject in hand.’ It appears to me, I own, very difficult to accept that as a satisfactory argument, amounting, as it does, to no more than this—that ‘ interpolations, which must needs be referred to in narrating the main story even to make it intelligible, are nevertheless to be regarded ‘as evidently the product of a Brahmanical age’, and presumably also a later age, because, forsooth, they are irrelevant and incongruous according to the ‘tastes and ideas !’— not of the time, be it remembered, when the ‘main story’ is supposed to have been written, but—of this enlightened nineteenth century. The support, too, which may be supposed to be derived by this argument from the allegation that there has been an attempt to Brahmanize, so to say, the history of the great war, appears to me to be extremely weak, so far as the Gita is concerned. But that is a point which will have to be considered more at large in the sequel.
1 The whole story is given in brief by the late Professor Goldstücker in the Westminster Review, April 1868, p. 392 seq. See now his Literary Remains, I, 104 seq.
2 History of India, vol. i, p. 293.
With this rough outline of the story's framework before us, we can now consider the opposing arguments on the point noted above. Mr. Talboys Wheeler writes on that point as follows: 'But there remains one other anomalous characteristic of the history of the great war, as it is recorded in the Mahabharata, which cannot be passed over in silence; and that is the extraordinary abruptness and infelicity with which Brahmanical discourses, such as essays on law, on morals, sermons on divine things, and even instruction in the so-called sciences are recklessly grafted upon the main narrative. . . . Kṛishṇa and Arjuna on the morning of the first day of the war, when both armies are drawn out in battle-array, and hostilities are about to begin, enter into a long and philosophical dialogue respecting the various forms of devotion which lead to the emancipation of the soul; and it cannot be denied that, however incongruous and irrelevant such a dialogue must appear on the eve of battle, the discourse of Kṛishṇa, whilst acting as the charioteer of Arjuna, contains the essence of the most spiritual phases of Brahmanical teaching, and is expressed in language of such depth and sublimity, that it has become deservedly known as the Bhagavad-gita or Divine Song. . . . Indeed no effort has been spared by the Brahmanical compilers to convert the history of the great war into a vehicle for Brahmanical teaching; and so skilfully are many of these interpolations interwoven with the story, that it is frequently impossible to narrate the one, without referring to the other, however irrelevant the matter may be to the main subject in hand.' I find it very hard, I must say, to accept that as a satisfactory argument. It amounts to no more than this: that interpolations which must be referred to in narrating the main story—even to make it intelligible—are nevertheless to be regarded as evidently the product of a Brahmanical age, and presumably a later one, simply because they are irrelevant and incongruous according to the tastes and ideas—not, it should be remembered, of the time when the main story is supposed to have been written, but—of this enlightened nineteenth century. The support this argument might seem to draw from the allegation that there has been an attempt to Brahmanize, so to speak, the history of the great war also strikes me as extremely weak, so far as the Gita is concerned. But that is a point which will have to be considered more fully in the sequel.
1 The late Professor Goldstücker gives the whole story in brief in the Westminster Review, April 1868, p. 392 seq. See now his Literary Remains, I, 104 seq.
2 History of India, vol. i, p. 293.