The Missionary: An Indian Tale; vol. I

by Lady Morgan

  CHAPTER IV.

  The day on which the Guru of Cashmire made his entrance into Lahore, wasa day of public festivity and joyous agitation to its inhabitants. Thehigher casts, the Brahmins and Chitterries, went out by the gate of Agrato meet him, some mounted on camels splendidly caparisoned; othersreposing in palanquins, luxuriously adorned. At sunrise, the sacredprocession appeared descending an eminence towards the town. Thereligious attendants of the Guru, mounted on Arabian horses, led thevan; followed by the Ramganny, or dancing priestesses of the temple,who sung, as they proceeded, the histories of their gods, whileincarnate upon earth. Their movements were slow, languid, and graceful;and their hymns, accompanied by the tamboora, the seringa, and otherinstruments, whose deep, soft, and solemn tones, seem consecrated to thepurposes of a tender and fanciful religion, excited in the souls oftheir auditors, emotions which belonged not all to Heaven.

  This group, which resembled, in form and movement, the personificationof the first hours of Love and Youth, was succeeded by the Guru, mountedon an elephant, which moved with a majestic pace; his howdah, of puregold, sparkling to the radiance of the rising day. Disciples of theBrahmin surrounded his elephant, and were immediately followed by apalanquin, which from its simplicity formed a striking contrast to thesplendid objects that had preceded it. Its drapery, composed of thesnowy muslin of the country, shone like the fleecy vapour on which thesun’s first light reposes: its delicate shafts were entwined with thecaressing fibres of the camalata, the flower of the Indian heaven,dedicated to Camdeo, the god of “mystic love,” whose crimson blossomsbreathed of odours which soothed, rather than intoxicated, the senses.

  The acclamations which had rent the air on the appearance of the Guru,died softly away as the palanquin approached. An awe more profound, afeeling more pure, more sublimated, seemed to take possession of themultitude; for, indistinctly seen through the transparent veil of thepalanquin, appeared the most sacred of vestals, the Prophetess andBrachmachira of Cashmire. Her perfect form, thus shrouded, caught, fromthe circumstance, a mysterious charm, and seemed, like one of thesplendid illusions, with which the enthusiasm of religion brightens theholy dream of its votarist, like the spirit which descends amidst theshadows of night upon the slumbers of the blessed. Considered as theoffspring of Brahma, as a ray of the divine excellence, the Indians ofthe most distinguished rank drew back as she approached, lest their verybreath should pollute that region of purity her respiration consecrated;and the odour of the sacred flowers, by which she was adorned, wasinhaled with an eager devotion, as if it purified the soul it almostseemed to penetrate. The venerated palanquin was guarded by a number ofpilgrim women, and the chief casts of the inhabitants of Lahore; while aband of the native troops closed the procession, which proceeded to thePagoda of Crishna.

  From the contemplation of a spectacle so new, so unexpected, theMissionary retired within his solitary tent, with that feeling of horrorand disgust, which a profanation of the sentiment and purposes ofreligion might be supposed to excite, in a mind so pure, so zealous, sofar above all the pomp and passions of life, and hitherto so ignorant ofall the images connected with their representation. The music, theperfumes, the women, the luxury, and the splendour of the extraordinaryprocession, offended his piety, and almost disordered his imagination.He thought, for a moment, of the perils of an enterprise, undertaken ina country where the very air was unfavourable to virtue, and where allbreathed a character of enjoyment, even over the awful sanctity ofreligion; a species of enjoyment, to whose very existence he had been,hitherto, almost a stranger; but the genius of his zeal warmed inproportion to the obstacles he found he had to encounter, and he waitedimpatiently for the arrival of the Pundit, who was to lead him to thevestibule of the pagoda.

  They proceeded, before mid-day, to the temple, which was approachedthrough several avenues of lofty trees. On every side marble basins,filled with consecrated water, reflected from their brilliant surfaces,the domes and galleries of the pagoda. On every side the golden flowersof the assoca, the tree of religious rites, shed their rich andintoxicating odours.

  In submission to those prejudices, which he could only hope finally tovanquish by previously respecting, he suffered himself to be led to aconsecrated tank, and, having bathed, he assumed the Indian jama. As hepassed the portals of the pagoda, he was struck by the grotesque figureof an idol, before whose shrine a crowd of deluded votarists layprostrate: he turned away his eyes in horror, kissed the crucifix whichwas concealed within the folds of his dress, and proceeded to thevestibule of the temple. The ceremony of the day was concluded; thepriestesses had performed their religious dances before Crishna, theIndian Apollo, and idol of the temple; the usual offerings of fruit andflowers, of gold and precious odours, had been made at his shrine; andthe learned of the various sects of the Brahminical faith had assembled,at an awful distance round the Guru, to hold their religious disputationand controversial arguments.

  In the centre of the vestibule, and on an elevated cushion, reposed thevenerable form of the Brahmin. His beard of snow fell beneath hisgirdle; an air, still, calm, and motionless, diffused itself over hisaged figure; a mild and holy abstraction involved his tranquilcountenance; no trace of human passions furrowed his expansive brow; allwas the repose of nature, the absence of mortality; and he presented tothe fancy and the mind, a fine and noble image of that venerated God,an incarnation of whose excellence he believed himself to be. A railingof gold and ebony marked the hallowed boundary, which none werepermitted to pass, save the Prophetess of Cashmire. _She_ sat near him,veiled only by that religious mystery of air and look, which involvedher person, as though a cloud of evening mists threw its soft shadowsround her. Forbidden the use of ornaments, by her profession, exceptthat of consecrated flowers, the scarlet berries of the sweet sumbal,the flower of the Ganges, alone enwreathed her brow; a string ofmogrees, whose odour exceeded the ottar of the rose, encircled her neck,with the dsandam, or three Brahminical threads, the distinguishinginsignia of her distinguished cast[10]. Her downcast eyes were fixedupon the muntras, the Indian rosary, which were twined round her wrist;and o’er whose beads she softly murmured the Gayatras, or text of theShaster. And when, with a slight motion of the head, she threw back thedark shining tresses which shaded her brow, in the centre of herforehead appeared the small consecrated mark of the tallertum. So finelywas her form and attitude contrasted by the venerable figure of her agedgrandsire, that the spring of eternal youth seemed to diffuse itsimmortal bloom and freshness round her, and she looked like the tutelarintelligence of the Hindu mythology, newly descended on earth, from theradiant sphere assigned to her in the Indian zodiac.

  At a little distance from the railing, stood the pilgrim-women whoattended on the chief Priestess, fanning the air with peacock’sfeathers, and diffusing around an atmosphere of roses, from the muskytresses and fragrant flowers of the Brachmachira. On either side of thevestibule stood groups of the various sects of Brahma and of Bhudda,while pilgrims and faquirs, with the chief casts of Lahore, filled thebottom of the vast and mighty hall.

  The religious disputants spoke in orderly succession, without appearingto feel or to excite enthusiasm, contented to detail their owndoctrines, rather than anxious to controvert the doctrines of others. Adevotee of the Musnavi sect took the lead; he praised the mysteries ofthe Bhagavat, and explained the profound allegory of the six Ragas[11],who, wedded to immortal nymphs, and fathers of lovely genii, presided inthe Brahminical mythology over the seasons. A disciple of the Vedantischool spoke of the transports of mystic love, and maintained theexistence of spirit only; while a follower of Bhudda supported thedoctrine of matter, as the only system void of all illusion. One spokeof the fifth element, or subtle spirit, which causes universalattraction, so that the most minute particle is impelled to someparticular object; and another, of the great soul which attended thebirth of all embodied creatures, connecting it with the divine essencewhich pervades the universe; while all, involved in mysteries beyond thecomprehension of human
reason, or lost in the intricacies ofmetaphysical theories, betrayed, in their respective doctrines, thewreck of that abstract learning, which, too little connected with thetrue happiness of society, was anciently borrowed, even by the Greeksthemselves, from the sages of India, and by the partial revival ofwhich, even the philosophers of modern Europe once made a false, butdistinguished reputation.

  It was during a pause which followed the declaration of thelast-mentioned tenets, that the apostolic Nuncio suddenly appeared inthe midst of the vestibule. His lofty and towering figure, the kindlinglustre of his countenance, the high command which sat upon his brow, thebright enthusiasm which beamed within his eye, and the dignified andreligious meekness which distinguished his air and attitude, all formeda fine and striking contrast to the slight diminutive forms, the sallowhues, and timid sadness, of the Indians who surrounded him. Clad in awhite robe, his fine-formed head and feet uncovered, he looked like thespirit of Truth descended from heaven, to spread on earth its pure andradiant light.

  The impression of his appearance was decisive: it sank at once to thesoul; and he imposed conviction on the senses, ere he made his claim onthe understanding. He spoke, and the multitude pressed near him--hespoke of the religion of Brahma, of the Avaratas, or incarnations of itsfounder, and of those symbolic images of the divine attributes, beneathwhose mysterious veil a pure system of natural religion was visible,which, though inevitably dark, uncertain, and obscure, was not unworthyto receive upon its gloom the light of a divine revelation: then,raising his hands and eyes to heaven, and touching the earth with hisbended knee, he invoked the protection of the God of Christians, even inthe temple of Brahma, and, surrounded by idols and by idolaters, boldlyunfolded the object of his mission, and preached that word, whosedivinity he was ready to attest with his blood.

  His eloquence resembled, in its progress, those great elementaryconflicts, whose sounds of awe come rolling grandly, deeply on,breathing the mandate of Omnipotence, and evincing its force and power;till touched, rapt, inspired by his theme, the tears of holy zeal whichfilled his eyes, the glow of warm enthusiasm which illumined hiscountenance, the strong, but pure emotions, which shook his frame,kindled around him a correspondent ardour. Some _believed_, who soughtnot to _comprehend_; others were persuaded, who could not be convinced;and many admired, who had not been influenced; while all sought toconceal the effects his eloquence and his doctrine produced: for theirhearts and their imaginations were still the victims of that dreadfulfear, which _loss of cast_ inspired; and the truths, so bright and new,now offered to their reason, were not sufficient in their effects tovanquish prejudices so dark and old, as those by which the Indian mindwas held in thraldom. He ceased to speak, and all was still as death.His hands were folded on his bosom, to which his crucifix was pressed;his eyes were cast in meekness on the earth; but the fire of his zealstill played, like a ray from heaven, on his brow.

  The Guru of Cashmire, who had listened to the wild mysteries of theIndian sophists, and the pure truths of the Christian Missionary, withequal composure, and, perhaps, with equal indifference, now arose tospeak, and a new impulse was given to the attention of the multitude.Prejudice and habit resumed their influence, and all hung withveneration on the incoherent words pronounced by the tremulous and agedvoice of a Brahmin, to whom his votarists almost paid divine honours,and who, with a motionless air and look, exclaimed: “I set my heart onthe foot of Brahma, gaining knowledge only of him: it is by devotionalone, that we are enabled to see the three worlds, celestial,terrestrial, and ethereal; let us, then, meditate eternally within ourminds, and remember, that the natural duties of the children of Brahmaare peace, self-restraint, patience, rectitude, and wisdom. Praise beunto Vishnu!”

  He ceased:--the dome of the temple was rent with acclamations: theoracle of the north of India, his words were deemed rays of light. Therhapsody, which made no claim on the understanding, accorded with, theindolence of the Indian mind:--the eloquence of the Missionary was nolonger remembered; and the disciples of the Guru hastened to conduct himto the college prepared for his reception. The procession resumed itsorder. Incense was flung upon the air; the choral hymn was raised bythe priestesses, and the imposing splendour of the most powerful of allhuman superstitions, resumed its influence over minds which sought notto resist its magic force.

  The apostolic Nuncio remained alone in the temple. He inhaled thefragrance of the atmosphere, he caught the languid strains of thereligious women, and he beheld the splendid processions winding throughthe arches of the temple, and disappearing among the trees whichscreened its approach. At his feet lay some flowers, which fell from thepalanquin of the Prophetess, as she passed him. He stood, notconfounded, but yet not unmoved. The rapid vicissitude of feeling, ofemotion, which he had undergone, was so new to a mind so firm, to a soulso abstracted, that for a moment he felt as though his whole being hadsuffered a supernatural change. But this distraction was but momentary:the man of genius soon rallied those high unconquerable powers, which,for an instant, had bent to the impression of novel and extraordinaryincidents, and had been diverted from their aspiring bias bycircumstances of mere external influence. The man of God soon recoveredthat sacred calm, which a breast that reflected Heaven’s own peace had,till now, never forfeited. He cast round his eyes, and beheld on everyside disgustful images of the darkest idolatry: he shuddered, andhastened from the Pagoda. In one of its avenues he was met by thePundit. The Cashmirian complimented him in all the hyperbole of Easternphrase, on the power of his unrivalled eloquence, and the force of hisunanswered arguments: he said, “that it rather resembled the inspirationof Heaven, than the ability of man;” and declared, “that he believed itsinfluence, though not general, was in some individual instances strongand decisive.” The Missionary turned his eyes on him with a religioussolicitude of look. “I allude,” replied the Pundit, “to theBrachmachira, _the Priestess of Cashmire_, whose conversion, if onceeffected, might prove the redemption of her whole nation.”

  A deep blush crimsoned the face of the Missionary, and he involuntarilydrew his hand across his eyes, though unconscious that any look beamedthere which Heaven should not meet. “You are silent,” said the Pundit,“and, doubtless, deem the task impracticable; and I confess it to benearly so. This may be the last pilgrimage the Priestess will undertake,and, consequently, the last time she will ever publicly show herself;for, except when engaged in the offices of their religion, as sacerdotalwomen, all the females of her cast, in India, are guarded in theretirement of their zenanas, with a vigilance unknown in othercountries. Habituated to this sacred privacy, the fairest Hindus sighnot after a world, of which they are wholly ignorant. Devoted to theirhusbands and their gods, religion and love make up the business of theirlives. Such were they, when Alexander first invaded their country--suchare they now. Pure and tender, faithful and pious, zealous alike intheir fondness and their faith, they immolate themselves as martyrs toboth, and expire on the pile which consumes the objects of theiraffection, to inherit the promise which religion holds out to theirhopes; for the heaven of an Indian woman is the eternal society of himwhom she loved on earth. In all the religions of the East, woman hasheld a decided influence, either as priestess or as victim; but thewomen of India seem particularly adapted to the offices and influenceof their faith, and in the religion of Brahma they take a considerablepart. The Ramgannies, or officiating priestesses, are of an inferiorrank and class, in every respect, and are much more distinguished fortheir zeal than for their purity; but the Brachmachira is of an orderthe most austere and most venerated, which can only be professed by awoman who is at once a widow[12] and vestal: a seeming paradox, butillustrated by the history of Luxima, the Prophetess of Cashmire.

  “Born in the most distinguished cast of India, she was betrothed, inchildhood, to a young Brahmin of superior rank; but, from the morningshe received the golden girdle of marriage, she beheld him no more. Hehad devoted himself to the Tupaseya, or sacred pilgrimage, until the ageof his bride should permit him to cla
im her. He went to the sacred Cavesof Elora, he, visited the Temple of Jaggarnauth, and died on his returnto Cashmire, at Nurdwar, while engaged in performing penance near thesource of the Ganges.

  “Tender, pious, and ambitious, Luxima would have ascended the funeralpile. The tears and infirmities of her grandsire prevailed. Childlessbut for her, she consented for his sake to live, and embraced thealternative held out to women in her situation of becoming aBrachmachira, being the only child of an only child. The riches of heropulent family, according to the laws of Menu, centre in herself, andare expended in such acts of public and private beneficence as arecalculated to increase the popular veneration, which her extraordinaryzeal, and the austere purity of her life, have awakened. To makepilgrimages, frequently to repeat the worship of her sect, and to lead alife of vestal purity, are the peculiar duties of her order. To beendowed with the spirit of prophecy is its peculiar gift. Multitudes,from every part of India, come to consult her on future events; and hervague answers are looked upon as decisions, which, sometimes verifiedby chance, are seldom suffered by prepossession to be considered asfalse.

  “There are few of this order now existing in India, and Luxima is themost celebrated. But it is not to her zeal only she owes her unrivalleddistinction: she is, by birth, a sacerdotal woman and a Cashmirian; theascendency of her beauty, therefore, is sometimes mistaken for theinfluence of the zeal which belongs to her profession; and perhaps thePriestess too often receives an homage which the woman only excites[13].She is a disciple of the Vedanti school: the delicate ardour of herimagination finds a happy vehicle in the doctrines of her pure butfervid faith; and the sublime but impassioned tenets of religious loveflow with peculiar grace from lips which seem equally consecrated tohuman tenderness. Every thing adds to the mystic charm which breatheso’er her character and person. Abstracted in her brilliant error,absorbed in the splendid illusion of her religious dreams, believingherself the purest incarnation of the purest spirit, her elevated souldwells not on the sensible images by which she is surrounded, but iswholly fixed upon the heaven of her own creation; and her beauty, herenthusiasm, her graces, and her genius, alike capacitate her topropagate and support the errors of which she herself is the victim.

  “Such is the proselyte I propose to your zeal. Once converted, herexample would operate like a spell on her compatriots, and the followerof Brahma would fly from the altar of his ancient gods, to worship inthat temple in which she would become a votarist.”

  The Pundit paused, and the Nuncio was still silent. At last he asked,“if the Pundit had not observed, that an interview with an Indian womanof the Brahminical cast was next to impossible?”

  “It is nearly so with all Indian women of distinction,” he replied; “buta Brachmachira, from being more sacred than other women, excites moreconfidence in her friends[14]. To approach her would be deemed sacrilegein any cast but her own; but her obligation to perform worship to themorning and evening sun, on the banks of consecrated rivers, exposes herto the view of those who are withheld by no prejudices, or restrainedby no law, from approaching her.”

  They had now reached the Missionary’s tent. The Pundit took his leave,and the Christian retired, to give himself up to the usual religiousexercise of the evening.