PREFACE.
In the religion of the Hindoos, which of all false religions is the most monstrous in its fables, and the most fatal in its effects, there is one remarkable peculiarity. Prayers, penances, and sacrifices, are supposed to possess an inherent and actual value, in no degree depending upon the disposition or motive of the person who performs them. They are drafts upon Heaven, for which the Gods cannot refuse payment. The worst men, bent upon the worst designs, have in this manner obtained power which has made them formidable to the Supreme Deities themselves, and rendered an Avatar, or Incarnation of Veeshnoo the Preserver, necessary. This belief is the foundation of the following Poem. The story is original; but, in all its parts, consistent with the superstition upon which it is built; and however startling the fictions may appear, they might almost be called credible when compared with the genuine tales of Hindoo mythology.
No figures can be imagined more anti-picturesque, and less poetical, than the mythological personages of the Bramins. This deformity was easily kept out of sight:—their hundred hands are but a clumsy personification of power; their numerous heads only a gross image of divinity, “whose countenance,” as the Bhagvat-Geeta expresses it, “is turned on every side.” To the other obvious objection, that the religion of Hindostan is not generally known enough to supply fit machinery for an English poem, I can only answer, that, if every allusion to it throughout the work is not sufficiently self-explained to render the passage intelligible, there is a want of skill in the poet. Even those readers who should be wholly unacquainted with the writings of our learned Orientalists, will find all the preliminary knowledge that can be needful, in the brief explanation of mythological names prefixed to the Poem.
MYTHOLOGICAL NAMES.
Brama, the Creator.
Veeshnoo, the Preserver.
Seeva, the Destroyer.
These form the Trimourtee, or Trinity, as it has been called, of the Bramins. The allegory is obvious, but it has been made for the Trimourtee, not the Trimourtee for the allegory; and these Deities are regarded by the people as three distinct and personal Gods. The two latter have at this day their hostile sects of worshippers; that of Seeva is the most numerous; and in this Poem, Seeva is represented as Supreme among the Gods. This is the same God whose name is variously written Seeb, Sieven and Siva, Chiven by the French, Xiven by the Portugueze, and whom European writers sometimes denominate Eswara, Iswaren, Mahadeo, Mahadeva, Rutren,—according to which of his thousand and eight names prevailed in the country where they obtained their Information.
Indra, God of the Elements.
The Swerga, his Paradise,—one of the Hindoo heavens.
Yamen, Lord of Hell, and Judge of the Dead.
Padalon, Hell,—under the Earth, and, like the Earth, of an octagon shape; its eight gates are guarded by as many Gods.
Marriataly, the Goddess who is chiefly worshipped by the lower casts.
Pollear, or Ganesa,—the Protector of Travellers. His statues are placed in the highways, and sometimes in a small lonely sanctuary, in the streets and in the fields.
Casyapa, the Father of the Immortals.
Devetas, The Inferior Deities.
Suras, Good Spirits.
Asuras, Evil Spirits, or Devils.
Glendoveers, the most beautiful of the Good Spirits, the Grindouvers of Sonnerat.
THE CURSE OF KEHAMA.
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I. THE FUNERAL.
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II. THE CURSE.
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Arvalan.
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Kehama.
Arvalan.
Kehama.
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III. THE RECOVERY.
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IV. THE DEPARTURE.
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V. THE SEPARATION.
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VI. CASYAPA.
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Ereenia.
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Casyapa.
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Casyapa.
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Casyapa.
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Ereenia.
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Casyapa.
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Casyapa.
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VII. THE SWERGA.
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Ereenia.
Kailyal.
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Ereenia.
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Ereenia.
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Indra.
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Indra.
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Kailyal.
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VIII. THE SACRIFICE.
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IX. THE HOME-SCENE.
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X. MOUNT MERU.
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XI. THE ENCHANTRESS.
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Lorrinite.
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Arvalan.
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Lorrinite.
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XII. THE SACRIFICE COMPLEATED.
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NOTES.
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She, says Bernier, whom I saw burn herself, when I parted from Surat to travel into Persia, in the presence of Monsieur Chardin of Paris, and of many English and Dutch, was of a middle age, and not unhandsome. To represent unto you the undaunted cheerfulness that appeared in her countenance, the resolution with which she marched, washed herself, spoke to the people; the confidence with which she looked upon us, viewed her little cabin, made up of very dry millet-straw and small wood, went into this cabin, and sat down upon the pile, and took her husband’s head into her lap, and a torch into her own hand, and kindled the cabin, whilst I know not how many Brahmans were busy in kindling the fire round about: To represent to you, I say, all this as it ought, is {134} not possible for me; I can at present scarce believe it myself, though it be but a few days since I saw it.
She went out again to the river, and taking up some water in her hands, muttered some prayers, and offered it to the sun. All her ornaments were then taken from her; and her armlets were broken, and chaplets of white flowers were put upon her neck and hands. Her hair was tucked up with five combs; and her forehead was marked with clay in the same manner as that of her husband—Stavorinus.
When the time for consummating the marriage is come, they light the fire Homam with the wood of Ravasiton. The Bramin blesses the former, which being done, the bridegroom takes three handfuls of rice, and throws it on the bride’s head, who does the same to him. Afterwards the bride’s father clothes her in a dress according to his condition, and washes the bridegroom’s feet; the bride’s mother observing to pour out the water. This being done, the father puts his daughter’s hand in his own, puts water into it, some pieces of money, {135} and, giving it to the bridegroom, says, at the same time, I have no longer any thing to do with you, and I give you up to the power of another. The Tali, which is a ribbon with a golden head hanging at it, is held ready; and, being shewn to the company, some prayers and blessings are pronounced; after which the bridegroom takes it, and hangs it about the bride’s neck. This knot is what particularly secures his possession of her; for, before he had had the Tali on, all the rest of the ceremonies might have been made to no purpose; for it has
sometimes happened, that, when the bridegroom was going to fix it on, the bride’s father has discovered his not being satisfied with the bridegroom’s gift, when another, offering more, has carried off the bride with her father’s consent. But when once the Tali is put on, the marriage is indissoluble; and, whenever the husband dies, the Tali is burnt along with him, to shew that the marriage bands are broke. Besides these particular ceremonies, the people have notice of the wedding by a Pandal, which is raised before the bride’s door some days before. The whole concludes with an entertainment which the bride’s father gives to the common friends; and during this festivity, which continues five days, alms are given to the poor, and the fire Homam is kept in. The seventh day, the new-married couple set out for the {136} bridegroom’s house, whither they frequently go by torch-light. The bride and bridegroom are carried in a sedan, pass through the chief streets of the city, and are accompanied by their friends, who are either on horseback or mounted on elephants.—A. Roger.
’Tis true, says Bernier, that I have seen some of them, which, at the sight of the pile and the fire, appeared to have some apprehension, and that, perhaps, would have gone back. Those demons, the Bramins, that are there with their great sticks, astonish them, and hearten them up, or even thrust them in; as I have seen it done to a young woman that retreated five or six paces from the pile, and to another, that was much disturbed when, she saw the fire take hold of her clothes, these executioners thrusting her in with their long poles.
At Lahor, I saw a very handsome and a very young woman burnt; I believe she was not above twelve years of age. This poor unhappy creature appeased rather dead than alive when she came near the pile; she shook and wept bitterly. Meanwhile, three or four of these executioners, the Bramins, together with an old hag that held her under the arm, thrust her on, and made her sit down upon the wood; and, lest she should run away, {137} they tied her legs and hands; and so they burnt her alive. I had enough to do to contain myself for indignation.—Bernier.
Pietro Della Valle conversed with a widow, who was about to burn herself by her own choice. She told him, that, generally speaking, women were not forced to burn themselves; but sometimes, among people of rank, when a young woman, who was handsome, was left a widow, and in danger of marrying again, (which is never practised among them, because of the confusion and disgrace which are inseparable from such a thing,) or of falling into other irregularities, then, indeed, the relations of the husband, if they are at all tenacious of the honour of the family, compel her to burn herself, whether she likes it or no, merely to prevent the inconveniences which might take place.
Dellon also, whom I consider as one of the best travellers in the East, expressly asserts, that widows are burnt there “de gré, ou de force. L’on n’en voit que trop qui aprés avoir desiré et demandé la mort avec un courage intrepide, et aprés avoir obtenu et acheté la permission de se brûler, ont tremblé à là veuë du bucher, se sont repenties, mais trop tard, de leur imprudence, et ont fait d’inutiles efforts pour se retracter. Mais lorsque cela arrive, bien loin que les Bramenes soient touchés {138} d’aucune pieté, ils lient cruellement ces malheureuses, et les brûlent par force, sans avoir aucun egard à leurs plaintes, ni à leurs cris.”—Tom. i. p. 138.
It would be easy to multiply authorities upon this point. Let it suffice to mention one important historical fact: When the great Alboquerque had established himself it Goa, he forbade these accursed sacrifices, the women extolled him for it as their benefactor and deliverer, (Commentarios de Alb. ii. 20,) and no European in India was ever so popular, or so revered by the natives. Yet, if we are to believe the anti-missionares, none but fools, fanatics, and pretenders to humanity, would wish to deprive the Hindoo women of the right of burning themselves! “It may be useful (says Colonel Mark Wilks,) to examine the reasonableness of interfering with the most exceptionable of all their institutions. It has been thought an abomination not to be tolerated, that a widow should immolate herself on the funeral pile of her deceased husband. But what judgement should we form of the Hindoo, who (if any of our institutions admitted the parallel) should forcibly pretend to stand between a Christian and the hope of eternal salvation? And shall we not hold him to be a driveller in
politics and morals, a fanatic in religion, and a pretender in humanity, who would forcibly wrest this hope from the Hindoo {139} widow?”—Historical Sketches of the South of India, vol. i. p. 499.
Such opinions, and such language, may safely be left to the indignation and pity which they cannot fail to excite. I shall only express my astonishment, that any thing so monstrous, and so miserably futile, should have proceeded from a man of learning, great good sense, and general good feelings, as Colonel Wilks evidently appears to be.
When Bernier was passing from Amad-Avad to Agra, there came news to him in a borough, where the caravan rested under the shade, (staying for the cool of the evening to march on their journey,) that a woman was then upon the point of burning herself with the body of her husband. I presently rose, says he, and ran to the place where it was to be done, which was a great pit, with a pile of wood raised in it, whereon I saw laid a dead corpse, and a woman, which, at a distance, seemed to me pretty fair, sitting near it on the same pile, besides four or five Bramins, putting the fire to it from all sides; five women of a middle age, and well enough dressed, holding one another by the hand, and dancing about the pit, and a great crowd of people, men and women, looking {140} on. The pile of wood was presently all on fire, because store of oil and butter had been thrown upon it: and I saw, at the same time, through the flames, that the fire took hold of the clothes of the woman, that were imbued with well-scented oils, mingled with powder of sandal and saffron. All this I saw, but
observed not that the woman was at all disturbed; yea, it was said, that she had been heard to pronounce, with great force, these two words, five, two, to signify, according to the opinion of those that hold the soul’s transmigration, that this was the fifth time she had burnt herself with the same husband, and that there remained but two more for perfection; as if she had at that time this remembrance, or some prophetical spirit. But here ended not this infernal tragedy: I thought it was only by way of ceremony that these five women sung and danced about the pit; but I was altogether surprised when I saw, that the flame having taken hold of the clothes of one of them, she cast herself, with her head foremost, into the pit; and that after her, another, being overcome by the flame and the smoke, did the like; and my astonishment redoubled afterwards, when I saw that the remaining three took one another again by the hand, continued their dance without any apparent fear; and that at length they precipitated themselves, one after another, into the fire, as
their {141} companions had done. I learnt that these had been five slaves, who, having seen their mistress extremely afflicted at the sickness of her husband, and heard her promise him, that she would not survive him, but burn herself with him, were so touched with compassion and tenderness towards this their mistress, that they engaged themselves in a promise to follow her in her resolution, and to burn themselves with her.—Bernier.
This excellent traveller relates an extraordinary circumstance which occurred at one of these sacrifices. A woman was engaged in some love-intrigues with a young Mahommedan, her neighbour, who was a tailor, and could play finely upon the tabor. This woman, in the hopes she had of marrying this young man, poisoned her husband, and presently came away to tell the tailor, that it was time to be gone together, as they had projected, or else she should be obliged to burn herself. The young man, fearing lest he might be entangled in a mischievous business, flatly refused her. The woman, not at all surprised at it, went to her relations, and advertised them of the sudden death of her husband, and openly protested that she would not survive him, but burn herself with him. Her kindred, well satisfied with so generous a resolution, and the great honour she did to the whole family, presently had a pit made and filled with wood, exposing {142} the corpse upon it, and kindling the fire. All being prepared, the woman goes to embrace and bid farewell to all her kindred that
were there about the pit, among whom was also the tailor, who had been invited to play upon the tabor that day, with many others of that sort of men, according to the custom of the country. This fury of a woman being also come to this young man, made sign as if she would bid him farewell with the rest; but, instead of gently embracing him, she taketh him with all her force about his collar, pulls him to the pit, and tumbleth him, together with herself, into the ditch, where they both were soon dispatched.—Bernier.
The Hindoos sometimes erect a chapel on the spot where one of these sacrifices has been performed, both on account of the soul of the deceased, and as a trophy of her virtue. I remember to have seen one of these places, where the spot on which the funeral pile had been erected was inclosed and covered with bamboos, formed into a kind of bower planted with flowering creepers. The inside was set round with flowers, and at one end, there was an image.—Crawfurd.
Some of the Yogees, who smear themselves with ashes, use none but what they collect from funeral piles,—human ashes! Pietro Della Valle.
From a late investigation, it appears, that the number {143} of women who sacrifice themselves within thirty miles round Calcutta every year, is, on an average, upwards of two hundred. The Pundits have already been called on to produce the sanction of their Shasters for this custom. The passages exhibited are vague and general in their meaning, and differently interpreted by the same casts. Some sacred verses commend the practice, but none command it; and the Pundits refer once more to custom. They have, however, intimated, that if government will pass a regulation, amercing by fine every Brahmin who attends a burning, or every Zemindar who permits him to attend it, the practice cannot possibly long continue; for that the ceremony, unsanctified by the presence of the priests, will lose its dignity and consequence in the eyes of the people.
The civilized world may expect soon to hear of the abolition of this opprobrium of a Christian administration, the female sacrifice; which has subsisted, to our certain knowledge, since the time of Alexander the Great.—Claudius Buchanan.
This practice, however, was manifestly unknown when the Institutes of Menu were written. Instructions are there given for the conduct of a widow: “Let her,” it is said, “emaciate her body, by living voluntarily on pure flowers, roots, and fruit; but let her not, when her {144} lord is deceased, even pronounce the name of another man. Let her continue till death forgiving all injuries, performing harsh duties, avoiding every sensual pleasure, and cheerfully practising the incomparable rules of virtue, which have been followed by such women as were devoted to one only husband. Many thousands of Brahmins, having avoided sensuality from their early youth, and having left no issue in their families, have ascended nevertheless to heaven; and, like those abstemious men, a virtuous wife ascends to heaven, though she have no child, if, after the decease of her lord, she devote herself to pious austerity: but a widow, who, from a wish to bear children, slights her deceased husband by marrying again, brings disgrace on herself here below, and shall be excluded from the seat of
her lord.”—Inst. of Menu, ch. 5, 157-161.
Second marriages were permitted to men.—Ibid. 167, 8-9.
Many believe that some souls are sent back to the spot where their bodies were burnt, or where their ashes are preserved, to wait there until the new bodies they are destined to occupy be ready for their reception. This appears to correspond with an opinion of Plato, which, {145} with many other tenets of that philosopher, was adopted by the early Christians; and an ordinance of the Romish church is still extant, prohibiting having lights or making merriment in church-yards at night, lest they should disturb the souls that might come thither.—Crawfurd.
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