the woods, feeding on the fruits of the earth,
and clothing themselves with the skins of wild
beasts, until Fohi taught them to build huts
and make dwellings. To the same hero is
ascribed the origination of agriculture,
commerce, marriage, and the doctrine that reason
came from heaven. He is said also to have
given instructions for rearing silkworms,
building bridges, and making use of beasts of
burden. From this point the history proceeds
clearly enough, describing the extension of the
culture thus initiated to the south, the
commencement of a state and government, and the
rise and fall of different dynasties.

Twenty-three centuries before the Christian
era, it is evident from the prevailing testimony
of historical documents, that there was no state.
The same is the case with Asia up to the
present time. Among the Chinese, indeed, the
moral will of the emperor is the law; but in
India generally the freedom of the subjective
agent is altogether wanting. We have thus
among the Hindoos a people, but no state. A
principle of despotism, and the practice of
tyranny, describe the common condition of
affairs among Orientals. The monotony of
such a condition affords no materials for history
proper, and will not bear telling, in plain,
unsophisticated prose. It requires fiction for its
embellishment, and the march of numerous
verse. As for the Hindoos, we are truly told
by a German philosopher, they are by birth
given over to an unyielding destiny, while their
spirit revels in the ideal, so that they exhibit
in their mental operations a contradictory
process. There is, he adds, on the one hand a
dissolution of fixed, rational, and definite
conceptions in their ideality, and on the other a
degradation of it by its identification with a
multiformity of sensuous objects, whereby all
that happens is dissipated in their minds into
confused dreams. In a word, what we call
historical truth and veracity—intelligent, thoughtful
comprehension of events, and fidelity in
their representation—nothing of this sort should
be expected from them. The same writer seeks
to explain this deficiency in their intellectual
character, "partly from the excitement and
debility of the nerves, which prevents the
Hindoos from retaining an object in their
minds, and firmly comprehending it, for in their
mode of apprehension, a sensitive and
imaginative temperament changes it into a feverish
dream; partly from the fact that Veracity is
the direct contrary to their nature. They even
lie, knowingly and designedly, where
misapprehension is out of the question."

The association of truth with prose is a great
argument in its favour, as also its power of
distinctly stating facts without reference to their
dignity, and, if necessary, in all their littleness
and meanness. There was an opinion at one
time that even history could not condescend to
those, but it has learned at length to care for
small things, as well as for great; and even
romance, which once wandered among the
strange for the wild and wonderful, now finds
in the familiar, sufficient material for the excitement
of the marvellous in the reader. The
simple flower at our feet is as surprising to a
well-constituted mind as the star in the
heavens. Prose can easily take cognisance of
both. At the same time, it can equally, and
with the same facility, deal with the most
sublime truths of philosophy, and give definite
expression to the most abstract propositions.
It can treat both of details and principles,
however minute in their forms, or extensive in their
developments, and conduct both to a rational
conclusion. How difficult it is to do this in
verse, those who have attempted to write
philosophical poems have fatally demonstrated. The
Essay on Man would have been more suitably
written in prose, and the errors in its argument
would have been more readily detected. The
metrical form casts about all its statements the
same degree of splendour, whether false or true,
and we fail to make the requisite distinctions in
the equality of the brightness. Didactic poetry,
in general, has suffered from the inapplicability
of verse to its specific subjects; and of late no
skilful writer has ventured into the troubled
arena, preferring the pleasant and peaceful paths
which abound in the domain of simple,
unsophisticated, and uncompromising prose.

We learn the most of India through Greek
history, which was written in prose. But it is
the empire of Persia that first connects itself
with history after the Chinese. In Persian
history we recognise a development of intelligence
in its human form, and under conditions
which best suit those of prosaic composition.
Light has been worked from the darkness, and
manifested itself in the consciousness of man.
To this fact the doctrines of Zoroaster have
express reference. His books were written in
prose in the Zend language, a language which
is connected with the Sanscrit, and was spoken
by the Persians, Medes, and Bactrians. The
light which they recognise is not without its
opposite; and an antithesis is stated, but as
proceeding from one and the same universal
being, or unlimited All, which is named
Zeruane-Akerene, wherein the dualism originates.
We are not yet sufficiently acquainted with
these books, and depend too much on tradition.
Ctesias, a Greek historian, had, it is stated,
direct access to the archives of the Persian
kings. A few fragments, however, only remain.
Herodotus and Xenophon give us abundant
information, as do also the later Hebrew writers.
The former mentions many facts respecting
the Babylonians and the Medes, and the
Assyrian-Babylonian empire; also respecting the
Chaldeans, a later people; while from the
Jews, who were carried captive to Babylon, we
have reliable accounts of the organisation
appointed for the government business, of the
extent of its commerce, and of the depravity
of its manners. Grecian art and poetry had
early penetrated Lydia, to which the Greek
colonies on the border of the western coast of
Asia Minor were subject, as they were also to
Persia. Ultimately Persia becomes an empire
in the modern sense—consisting of a number of
dependent states, yet retaining their individuality,