Part 13 (1/2)

Lalla Rookh, as they moved on, more than once looked back, to observe how the young Hindoo's lamp proceeded: and while she saw with pleasure that it was unextinguished, she could not help fearing that all the hopes of this life were no better than that feeble light upon the river.”

Moore prepared himself for the writing of Lalla Rookh by ”long and laborious reading.” He himself narrates that Sir James Mackintosh was asked by Colonel Wilks, the Historian of British India, whether it was true that the poet had never been in the East. Sir James replied, ”_Never_.” ”Well, that shows me,” said Colonel Wilks, ”that reading over D'Herbelot is as good as riding on the back of a camel.” Sir John Malcolm, Sir William Ouseley and other high authorities have testified to the accuracy of Moore's descriptions of Eastern scenes and customs.

The following lines were composed on the banks of the Hooghly at Cossipore, (many long years ago) just after beholding the river one evening almost covered with floating lamps.[054]

A HINDU FESTIVAL.

Seated on a bank of green, Gazing on an Indian scene, I have dreams the mind to cheer, And a feast for eye and ear.

At my feet a river flows, And its broad face richly glows With the glory of the sun, Whose proud race is nearly run

Ne'er before did sea or stream Kindle thus beneath his beam, Ne'er did miser's eye behold Such a glittering ma.s.s of gold 'Gainst the gorgeous radiance float Darkly, many a sloop and boat, While in each the figures seem Like the shadows of a dream Swiftly, pa.s.sively, they glide As sliders on a frozen tide.

Sinks the sun--the sudden night Falls, yet still the scene is bright Now the fire-fly's living spark Glances through the foliage dark, And along the dusky stream Myriad lamps with ruddy gleam On the small waves float and quiver, As if upon the favored river, And to mark the sacred hour, Stars had fallen in a shower.

For many a mile is either sh.o.r.e Illumined with a countless store Of l.u.s.tres ranged in glittering rows, Each a golden column throws To light the dim depths of the tide, And the moon in all her pride Though beauteously her regions glow, Views a scene as fair below

D.L.R.

Mrs. Carsh.o.r.e alludes, I suppose to the above lines, or the following sonnet, or both perhaps, when she speaks of my erroneous Orientalism--

SCENE ON THE GANGES.

The shades of evening veil the lofty spires Of proud Benares' fanes! A thickening haze Hangs o'er the stream. The weary boatmen raise Along the dusky sh.o.r.e their crimson fires That tinge the circling groups. Now hope inspires Yon Hindu maid, whose heart true pa.s.sion sways, To launch on Gungas flood the glimmering rays Of Love's frail lamp,--but, lo the light expires!

Alas! what sudden sorrow fills her breast!

No charm of life remains. Her tears deplore A lover lost and never, never more Shall hope's sweet vision yield her spirit rest!

The cold wave quenched the flame--an omen dread That telleth of the faithless--_or the dead_!

D.L.R.

Horace Hayman Wilson, a high authority on all Oriental customs, clearly alludes in the following lines to the launching of floating lamps by _Hindu_ females.

Grave in the tide the Brahmin stands, And folds his cord or twists his hands, And tells his beads, and all unheard Mutters a solemn mystic word With reverence the Sudra dips, And fervently the current sips, That to his humbler hope conveys A future life of happier days.

But chief do India's simple daughters a.s.semble in these hallowed waters, With vase of cla.s.sic model laden Like Grecian girl or Tuscan maiden, Collecting thus their urns to fill From gus.h.i.+ng fount or trickling rill, And still with pious fervour they To Gunga veneration pay And with pretenceless rite prefer, The wishes of their hearts to her The maid or matron, as she throws _Champae_ or lotus, _Bel_ or rose, Or sends the quivering light afloat In shallow cup or paper boat, Prays for a parent's peace and wealth Prays for a child's success and health, For a fond husband breathes a prayer, For progeny their loves to share, For what of good on earth is given To lowly life, or hoped in heaven,

H.H.W.

On seeing Miss Carsh.o.r.e's criticism I referred the subject to an intelligent Hindu friend from whom I received the following answer:--

My dear Sir,

The _Beara_, strictly speaking, is a Mahomedan festival. Some of the lower orders of the Hindus of the NW Provinces, who have borrowed many of their customs from the Mahomedans, celebrate the _Beara_. But it is not observed by the Hindus of Bengal, who have a festival of their own, similar to the _Beara_. It takes place on the evening of the _Saraswati Poojah_, when a small piece of the bark of the Plantain Tree is fitted out with all the necessary accompaniments of a boat, and is launched in a private tank with a lamp. The custom is confined to the women who follow it in their own house or in the same neighbourhood.

It is called the _Sooa Dooa Breta_.

Yours truly,

Mrs. Carsh.o.r.e it would seem is partly right and partly wrong. She is right in calling the _Beara_ a _Moslem_ Festival. It is so; but we have the testimony of Horace Hayman Wilson to the fact that _Hindu maids and matrons also launch their lamps upon the river_. My Hindu friend acknowledges that his countrymen in the North West Provinces have borrowed many of their customs from the Mahomedans, and though he is not aware of it, it may yet be the case, that some of the Hindus of _Bengal_, as elsewhere, have done the same, and that they set lamps afloat upon the stream to discover by their continued burning or sudden extinction the fate of some absent friend or lover. I find very few Natives who are able to give me any exact and positive information concerning their own national customs. In their explanations of such matters they differ in the most extraordinary manner amongst themselves.

Two most respectable and intelligent Native gentlemen who were proposing to lay out their grounds under my directions, told me that I must not cut down a single cocoa-nut tree, as it would be dreadful sacrilege--equal to cutting the throats of seven brahmins! Another equally respectable and intelligent Native friend, when I mentioned the fact, threw himself back in his chair to give vent to a hearty laugh. When he had recovered himself a little from this risible convulsion he observed that his father and his grandfather had cut down cocoa-nut trees in considerable numbers without the slightest remorse or fear. And yet again, I afterwards heard that one of the richest Hindu families in Calcutta, rather than suffer so sacred an object to be injured, piously submit to a very serious inconvenience occasioned by a cocoa-nut tree standing in the centre of the carriage road that leads to the portico of their large town palace. I am told that there are other sacred trees which must not be removed by the hands of Hindus of inferior caste, though in this case there is a way of getting over the difficulty, for it is allowable or even meritorious to make presents of these trees to Brahmins, who cut them down for their own fire-wood. But the cocoa-nut tree is said to be too sacred even for the axe of a Brahmin.