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THE ROSE
“Yes, love indeed is light from Heaven,
A spark of that immortal fire
With angels shared, by Alla given,
To lift from earth our low desire.
Devotion wafts the mind above,
But Heaven itself descends in Love;
A feeling from the Godhead caught
To wean from self each sordid thought,
A ray from Him who formed the whole,
A glory circling round the Soul!”
Byron.
IN a certain favoured corner of our garden is an arbour of red roses. There, on sunny days in June and July, I delight to sit, inhaling the fragrant air, and weaving the while the threads of those many-coloured thoughts which my vagrant imagination, whether conscious or dreaming, invariably formulates into stories.
Last spring, a box of yellow crocuses in our conservatory furnished me with the text for a romance on the virtue of temperance. And now that summer is here in all the richness of her multiform bloom and beauty, the very breeze seems redolent with tenderness; and an intense sympathy towards every living thing inflames and fills my heart, inciting me to take them all in my embrace, and through love of them aspire to communion with God.
I fed sure that these red roses, swaying to and fro in the soft wind, are able to teach me something which it would be good and pleasant to learn. This one, nodding and beckoning so daintily at the round the corner of the arbour, has certainly a secret to impart! Come, beautiful flower, to whom the wandering breeze reveals the mysteries of heaven, and repeats the stories which the angels tell one another, – what strange sweet things will you say to me this dreamy summer noontide?
“I will tell you,” she whispers, touching my forehead softly, “a story which my pilgrim friend the Wind has just recounted to me. He spent the night far up in the sky, among the flowers of the rainbow garden, and there in its highest circle he met the spirit of one of my fairest ancestors, the beautiful Rose of Kashmeer! And he said that she, – more queenly and imperial than any other in the Paradise of the
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flowers, – bears evermore in her bosom the light of the crimson Sardius, type and interpreter of Divine Love, even as we in the world of men are the symbols of human passion and tenderness. For Love is ruler in earth and heaven, and his royal seal is set on the brows of all the best and the greatest, distinguishing the hero from the sensualist, the genius from the dullard, the noble man from the base and insensible.
And this is the history which my lovely ancestor recounted to our roving friend the Wind.
“Centuries ago, one sunny season, as long since as the year 1324, I first awoke to life, a tiny crimson rose-bud, among a bevy of my fair sisters, in the famous Valley of Kashmeer. My birthplace was an island, feathery with slender aspens, and rich with the luxuriant verdure of the warm Asian soil. Arbours of myrtle and climbing eglantine adorned the sloping shore, and all day under their cool shadows rippled the musical waves of the Kashmeer lake. From the bower in which I blossomed I could discern a hundred similar islets, studding like so many emeralds the golden expanse of glittering water. Here and there, as the peaceful hours went by, white sails flashed and dipped among the winding alleys of the lake, and the sweet strains of lute or viol came mingled with women’s voices down the luminous tide; now from some distant haunt of sylvan revelry, now from the open casement of a Hindu bungalow, where joyful maids and matrons had met to celebrate the annual Feast of Roses.
“Upon my particular island, the wildest and most solitary in the little archipelago, dwelt a young devotee of the Brahmin caste, that tribe of priests, whose members, like the Levites among the Jews, inherit the sacerdotal office, and to whom only appertains the guardianship of the national religion.
“These Brahmins observe three successive conditions of life, the highest of which is the Vanaprastha, or life of penitential seclusion. The priests who attain this saintly distinction are called Rishis or anchorites; they dwell in complete solitude, and are occupied solely in devout contemplation, prayer and the study of the Vedas, which are the sacred books of the Hindu faith. But before entering upon such holy retirement, it is commanded every Brahmin to pass a certain portion of his life in the domestic state of Grihastha, or matrimony. At an early age he must choose a wife of his own caste, and rear his sons and daughters in the faith; and not until they have passed the age of childhood is he permitted admission into the nobler fraternity of monasticism.
“The young priest who dwelt on my rose-island was then little more than a novice in the sacerdotal order. Every morning
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at sunrise time his betrothed wife came visit him (1) in a tiny canoe, bright with gold and vermillion, bringing with her a cruse of some sweet drink, ripe fruits and meal-cakes; for the Brahmins are forbidden to eat the flesh of any creature that has lived. Never was maiden more graceful in form or comelier of face than the beautiful Bhagwandaee, peerless even among the high-bred ladies of the Brahmin caste, to whom the palm of loveliness is always awarded from poetic Kashmeer to the southernmost shores of Hindustan. Scarcely more than a child in years, Bhagwandaee’s dark oval face was serious with the tender shadow of earnest thought, and her brown jasper-clear eyes revealed within their radiant deeps the glory of a soul “that loved and aspired. It was no idle inconsequent passion that united the hearts of the Brahmin neophyte and his betrothed, nor was it without meaning that the same name had been given to both of them, – a name which signifies in the parabolic tongue of the Hindus, ‘the servant of God.’
“Hour after hour Bhagwandas was wont to sit alone under the rosebushes by the margin of the lake, buried in a profound meditation. And when at sunrise his fair companion came across the golden water to visit him, the lovers greeted each other, not with the light-hearted rapture of youth, but with the grave earnestness of fellow-students and philosophers, between whom exists the magnetic kinship of metaphysic and psychic sympathy.
“ ‘I might relate to you,’ said the Rose of Kashmeer, ‘many a strange and starling speculation, many a daring theory which I and my sisters overheard in that fair solitude, as we waved our white and coloured blooms above the heads of these young aspirants after Truth, But I pass on rather to the events of a certain day, just as I was beginning to expand; into rosy blossom, when there came to the islet, I know not whence, – a certain strange man, tall and stately of mien, and clad gorgeously, in a different garb from that worn by the Hindu people. Bhagwandas was reclining as usual’ by the sandy marge of the lake, absorbed in so deep a reverie that he would doubtless have remained unconscious of the stranger, had not the latter, confronting the recluse with stern visage and folded arms, thus addressed him in the Hindustanee tongue:
“ ‘Young man, art thou not Bhagwandas, votary of the false deity Brahma?’
“Nowise disturbed, the other answered placidly: –
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“ ‘And if I be, who art thou that darest thus impugn a God, concerning whom thou knowest perchance nothing?’
“The tall man smiled.
“ ‘Mine is a purer creed than thine,’ replied he, with an accent of disdain, ‘and the God I adore admits no rivals on his throne, nor tolerates the impieties of idolaters. Know, O misguided youth, server of dumb images, that Allah the Almighty alone Is divine, and that the faith of Islam only is true and heaven descended! It is the will of Allah which has brought me hither to thee with this holy message on my lips, for l have heard in a dream that thou, Bhagwandas, art beloved of Heaven l Arise, quit this idolatrous valley, embrace the creed of our prophet, and a great destiny shall be thine! I have need of such as thou art in the fulfilment of my mission in the world.’
“Bhagwandas lifted himself upon his elbow, and looked steadfastly in the face of the Mohammedan.
“ ‘I know thee,’ he said,’ priest of a fierce and intolerant religion l It is by dint of thy wily tongue and subtle heart that our barbarian conqueror, the mighty chieftain of the Tartar host, hath of late embraced the faith of Mohammed. By means of thy craft and cunning, he and the seven thou-sand infidels who serve him have smitten and overcome the people of Kashmeer. Once were they free, dwelling in their own country, and serving their gods in peace. But thou and thy barbarians have brought our land into bondage, so that we keep our sacred festivals and sing our holy songs as strangers and aliens on its soil. And shall I, the servant of Brahma, forswear my solitude and my vows to make common cause with the oppressors of my race, and to gather with thee the paltry reward of worldly renown and greatness? Thinkest thou that I a in still so much a child as to be dazzled with the tricks and gauds of time l Not so, false priest; l seek deliverance from the illusions of earth, and desire only to be united for ever in soul and substance with the vast spirit of Nature.’
“ ‘Thou art bold of speech, young man returned the Mohammedan, ‘and the bold should not be apt to despise the rewards of daring and manly enterprise. What! can the mute expectancy of annihilation possess charms for a youth of such vigour and comeliness as that which I behold in thee? Art thou not ashamed to waste thy best and noblest years in the contemplation of Divine Nonentity? Thy Nirvana is but the promise of Death. But as for me, my faith is full of life and enjoyment in the things of sense; I scheme, I work, I see the fruits of my labour l Am I not the chief minister of your Tartar prince, second only in the
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new empire of which he is head? Rise, quit this unworthy ease, this studious repose, and enter with me upon a life more becoming the spirit of man.” (1)
“The face of Bhagwandas was troubled, and he cast down his eyes,
“ ‘Priest,’ he answered, after an uneasy pause,’ thy message is not for me. True, that oftentimes my flesh is at war with my soul, and I long to be mingling in the press and stir of the world. But my God hath shewn me the emptiness of all things earthly, and well I know that the fair fruits with which you seek to tempt me are but apples of dust and bitterness. Nothing in Time can satisfy the spirit which yearns after Eternity.’
“Thus they disputed until the sun dipped below the margin of the lake, and the rapid fall of the night warned the stranger to quit the rose-island. Bhagwandas remained alone, lying upon the soft turf, and watching the play of sparkling light with which the rising Eastern moon silvered the silent waters before him.
“ ‘Alas, Almighty!’ he cried, lifting his hands heaven ward, ‘to what end is man endowed with soul? Must he for ever find the instincts of his nature and the necessities of his existence at war with the aspirations of the spirit which Thou hast breathed into his breast? Thou hast taught him to love gentleness and pity, Thou hast shewn him that the rule of benevolence is nobler than the dominion of physical force. Thou hast made him in his highest state to abhor carnage and bloodshed, and to subsist only on the fruit and the herbs of the earth, lest he pollute his soul with cruelty, and his body with unclean food. Idealizing the best he knows, he pictures Thee as a God delighting in mercy and love. Wherefore, then, dost Thou mock at his aspirations, and bar his upward progress with insuperable difficulty? Thou hast given him the heart of an angel, and hast clothed him with the skin of a beast l Vainly he seeks to emancipate himself from the law of the brute, and to live a higher life than they. Vainly he denies himself the diet of blood and slaughter, since with every breath he draws, with every step he treads, he involuntarily outrages the sacredness of life! How shall he believe Thee loving or pure, when the nature Thou hast produced is so full of foulness and of wrong? He feasts his eyes on the crimson and gold of the sunset, he dwells with rapture on the translucent purple of the deep summer sky, he listens entranced to the musical
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voice of the cascade, or to the tender breath of the evening wind among the roses. He beholds the changeful glories of the lake, he inhales the fragrance of flowers, a taste of ineffable sweetness blesses every sense. For these things he adores, he praises, he loves Thee! But let him examine into the heart of all this outward beauty, and he will weep and wring his hands for pity and despair. For upon each of these fair islands, beneath the waves of this shining lake, and overhead in that calm supernal blue, innumerable deaths are being endured, innumerable pangs are being dealt, innumerable tortures are being suffered. Yonder, in the scented brake, some hungry lynx mangles and devours a dove; or a wild cat, yet crueller and more merciless, worries to death its innocent and terrified prey. Here also, in the gleaming waters, and in the air overhead, life is everywhere sustained upon death. Such, Almighty, is the course of Thy creation; nor is man, Thy greatest and noblest work, exempt from the common curse of blood guiltiness. Like the grave itself he lives upon death, and every day beholds happy and sinless creatures render up their spirits with suffering, in order that he may continue to exist. How then shall he rejoice in his humanity, knowing well that the higher he advances in love and perfection, the more odious and awful to his imprisoned spirit must seem the bondage of his body, and the keener must become his sufferings of sympathy with the suffering world around him? Nay, let him purify his diet as he may, the very trappings and adornments of his person and his dwelling represent unnumbered agonies. On every side the fateful meshes environ him, he perceives the good, and must perforce do wrong! O wretched, wretched Man! who in earth or heaven shall deliver thee from the thrall of thy nature! Sorely, indeed, am I tempted at times to abandon in despair the contemplation of these terrible mysteries, and to plunge myself unthinking in a career of selfish fleshly enjoyment and worldly ambition. Strive as I may, I can never be perfect, since my body compels me to live in pollution; why, then, should l seek at all to spiritualize myself, when so doing I can but grow more restless and more sensitive? Better far to be as the stranger whom I have seen today, to whose soul life is precious for its sensuous delights! Ah miserable Bhagwandas! where shalt thou find counsel or consolation?’
“In musings and meditations such as these the young neophyte passed the greater part of the night. With the first streak of the sunrise Bhagwandaee’s canoe came darting over the bright bosom of the lake, but this morning its fair mistress did not visit the rose-island of her betrothed alone. In the boat sat an old man of European race, wearing the
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habit of his people, and carrying in his right hand a long staff surmounted by a cross, upon which was carved in ebony the image of a man crowned with thorns and crucified. Struck with the reverend aspect of his unknown visitor, Bhagwandas quickly rose from his post of contemplation, and hastened to greet him. ‘Thou art welcome, father,’ he said, with grave courtesy; ‘Heaven and my betrothed have doubtless brought thee hither to and comfort me, for I see the mark of wisdom, and the seal of peace upon thy brow.’
“ ‘Son,’ responded the other,’ the fame of thy piety and of thine austerities hath not escaped mine ears. And, having somewhat to say to thee, I besought this maiden, thy betrothed, to carry me with her to the place of thy retirement, that we might converse together if, then, as thy words imply, thou standest in need of mortal help and comfort, open thine heart to me, and let Heaven speak if it will by these unworthy lips. But what, in this abode of loveliness and repose, can occur to trouble or distract thee? Dost thou not dwell here by choice, apart from thy kind, communing only with Divinity?’
“ ‘Father,’ replied Bhagwandas with a sigh,’ thou’ knowest the rule of life prescribed by the laws of Manu for the observance of the zealous Brahmin. “He is not to wish for life nor for death, but to expect his appointed time, as a hired servant expects his wages. He must subdue all passions and desires, and detach his affections from all worldly affairs.” To this calm and holy disposition I seek to bring myself, in obedience to the dictates of our religion, that if possible I may attain to the merit of saintship and escape the penalties and defilement of future transmigration, by uniting myself immediately after death with the pure spirit of the Deity. Thus hath my Guru (1) instructed me, and desiring to obey him to the utmost, I have come hither to dwell in this seclusion, that I may the better reflect upon the vileness and worthlessness of earthly things.’
“The old man turned his glance upon Bhagwandaee.
“ ‘But, my son,’ said he, looking from the beautiful girl to the neophyte, ‘is not this thy betrothed? Thou lovest, – how, then, canst thou profess renunciation of all affection and desire that is not of Heaven?’
“ ‘It is true,’ replied Bhagwandas with visible confusion, ‘that this maiden is my plighted wife. But I seek to make the love I bear her such as my Guru may approve. Day after
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day I wrestle with my lower self, striving to subdue the promptings of youthful affection, and to bring my soul out of the bondage it suffers by nature. By-and-by, I trust I shall so have weaned myself from the rule of earthly love as to regard all things with equal indifference, and should Heaven so ordain, – even to behold Bhagwandaee die with-out feeling a pang of regret for the loss of her.’ But as he spoke he did not venture to look in the face of his betrothed, and l thought that his words seemed to cause her great distress.
“ ‘Alas, poor boy,’ said the stranger mournfully, ‘these professions of thine recall to me the belief and the struggles of my own long-vanished youth. Fifty-five years ago I forsook my home, my friends, and my country, and solemnly de-voting myself for ever to the life of poverty and virginity, I took arms as a Knight Templar in the last Crusade, which the princes Louis and Edward led against the Saracens. To thine ears, my son, these names convey no meaning, for thou and thy people dwell remote from all that concerns the objects and the interests of the Christian nations. For thee it must suffice to know that thus early in my career I vowed to renounce the secular life of wedlock, and to tread the path of manhood and of age alone and unbeloved of woman. Fervent in the resolution thus adopted, I landed on the shores of Palestine, and bore my part with enthusiasm in the enterprises of the Holy War. It was my fate to fall into the hands of the infidels. Many and sad were the years of my captivity, but at length l burst my chains and escaped into Arabia. There, while seeking the means of return to my own land, l was treacherously betrayed into a second bondage, and carried farther eastward by a wandering tribe of Bedouins. Then followed a time of bitter servitude, long and inexpressibly galling to my ambitious spirit, but fraught with precious lessons, which since I have learned to understand and to value. Thus the flower of my life was passed, and when the Arab chief who owned me died, I found myself restored to freedom at an age when freedom could no longer bring me adventure or renown. What few years might remain to me under the sun l resolved to devote to the preaching of my faith. With this intent I journeyed from city to city, but my infirmities and my sorrowful condition, though saving me often. from persecution, gained me but scanty hearing. Coming at length to Kashmeer, the report of thy youthful sanctity: reached me, and I sought my way to thy presence, believing that to one so earnest and so thoughtful the blessed message: of divine truth could not be declared in vain.’
“ ‘Old man,’ replied the Brahmin, ‘one whom I know not
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has already been hither to me with a like announcement. He came to unfold to me the creed of his prophet Mohammed. And he spoke to me of manly ambition, and of the rewards of worldly glory and power as the only objects worthy humanity. But I told him that such vain desires must fail to content a soul profoundly sensible of the sadness and bitterness of earth, nor could all the gold and pomp of Islam avail to dazzle senses which perceive only the supreme horror and misery of existence. How should I, in whose ears the vast cry of Nature’s travail is ever sounding, be beguiled by the pitiful sophistry of a solitary worldling? My soul is torn with the harrowing mysteries of creation, – vainly I seek to harmonize the actual with the ideal, and to reconcile the conditions of life with the law of love l If, then, thy message be worth anything to my bewildered mind, it is able to provide me with at Least some clue to the solution of the enigma that torments me!’
“ ‘Son,’ replied the aged Templar, ‘behold this figure carved here upon my staff. It b the image of the Christian’s God! Not without awful significance is the Crucifix presented to the world as the universal symbol of religion! Pierced heart, wounded hands and feet, stricken brow, parched lips, agonized nerves and sinews, scourged and lacerated flesh, outraged modesty, hard unrestful bier of a lingering death, – all these are the everlasting type of the religious life on earth. No other form of martyrdom would exemplify it as completely, nor could rack, or block, or stake, or pillory present in so striking and acute a manner that distinctive penance of every member, – that wearying shameful exposure in the eyes of all the world, – that patient endurance of which the Cross is our eternal badge and sign. Strange inscrutable dispensation, vast allegory of Nature’s duality, mysterious figure of a yet greater and profounder mystery, – the relation of the material to the spiritual, – of the Soul to the Flesh. Everywhere this duality confronts and confounds us! Always the body smitten that the spirit may aspire; always the contempt of the individual life and the cry of travail and death that new births may continue the eternal order of things undying; always the law of Nature at war with the intuition of the soul l Yet it is written in our holy books as it is in the Vedas which thou believest, that God is Love l He who insisted most upon that truth had stood nevertheless beneath the Cross on Calvary, and had witnessed there the supremest agony of the world l He who most insisted on the doctrine of God’s eternal love had seen the martyrdom of the Innocent, had taken into his home the very Mother of Sorrows, and had become her adopted son! But when thou knowest God
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as the beloved disciple knew Him, when thine head has lain upon that bosom whereon his was wont to rest, thou too, my son, shalt understand the mystery of Love made manifest in suffering!’
“Bhagwandas made a gesture of impatience. ‘Father,’ said he,’ all this which thou sayest does but confirm me in my despondency. Already I know the evil, and admit the mystery; thy crucifix justly symbolises both. But shew me the remedy, – tell me what I, in my own person, can do to readjust the world!’
“As he spoke he extended his hands in nervous eagerness, and his strained and anxious face bore testimony to the deep emotion which moved him. But the Christian answered in slow and solemn tones. –
“ ‘Son, be more humble. Humility is the mother of the Virtues. It is not for thee nor for any man to recreate the heavens and the earth! Be comforted to know that ‘the burdens of life are at Least equality laid upon all flesh, and that if the beasts suffer in their blindness to satisfy human needs, man in his turn suffers at least no less with open eyes, foreknowing and foreseeing his perils and his trials from day to day. And as for thy part, my son, think of thyself as an atom in the whole which God has evolved, – as one of His many thoughts, – and fulfil to the fullest thy destiny. Do the work which lies nearest to thee, tread thy course in the midst of a halo of love. Much thou mayest heal, – much thou mayest mitigate; perchance for such ends wert thou even born. But beware of becoming indifferent, – lose not thine hold upon love. It is better for thee to suffer for love’s sake, than to obtain peace by means of a hard heart;’
“ ‘Would indeed,’ cried Bhagwandas,’ that I could accept thy doctrine! But what use can l make of a tender heart, since I am myself the cause of daily death to scores of innocent beings?’
“ ‘Is death then so great an evil?’ pursued the Templar. ‘What, – does not even thine own religion teach thee that Siva the Destroyer is equality divine with Bramah the Creator and Vishnu the Preserver, in the trinity of the Vedas? Death in its bare simplicity is no calamity, it is the knowledge of its approach that is horrible, and the sense of that which will be lost by means of it. For those creatures, then, to whom such knowledge and such sense is impossible, only the mere stroke of death remains, and this it is thy duty and the duty of all men to render as brief and as painless as can be. Thank God that it is thy power to mitigate the real evil of the world, – the suffering of the living! Teach the race of men to regard with tenderness the creatures which toil
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for their benefit, the living beasts of burden; and if thou wilt, forbear thyself from slaughter. Be as perfect as thou art able to be, – God will ask no more at thine hands.”
“ ‘Thou thinkest then, father,’ said the young Brahmin, ‘inasmuch as life everywhere admits of suffering, and the conditions of man’s existence preclude him from attaining the highest ideal of perfection, that God is not to be found in Nature?’
“ ‘What,’ returned the pilgrim, ‘do we understand by ‘God?’. Our highest – our noblest – our best imaginable. In all that Nature shews of innocence, beauty and tenderness, we recognise God. In all that humanity has of good and great we see him equality. God, then, is found for us in the best of Nature and of Man. So far as we know, man only has the intuition thus to formulate the idea of God., Having that power, he is bound by the very fact of his intuition to aspire after the best he perceives. And he can only aspire by means of Love, – Love which is symbolised by the Crucifix, – Love which is ever perfected by suffering.’
“Silence followed these last words, which the Templar accompanied with a sigh, and in the pause Bhagwandaee rose from her seat on the turf, and extending her hand to the branch upon which I blossomed amidst a cluster of my sister roses, she broke it from the tree, and began to weave herself a garland. The old man looked at her inquiringly as he marked her busy fingers; and she told him, smiling, that a great religious festival was to be held in a neighbouring temple at sunset, and that she and her betrothed must both be present to take part in the worship. ‘And,’ added the beautiful Hindu,’ since we are now commemorating our Feast of Roses, all the women will wear chaplets such as this which I am making, in honour of the god, to whom the flowers of holy Kashmeer (1) are more precious than any other blossoms of the earth.’
“ ‘And who,’ asked the Christian Knight, ‘is the deity whose praises you are thus about to celebrate?’
“ ‘It is Kama Deva, god of love,’ replied Bhagwandaee, hiding her face in her veil.
* * * * * * * * * *
“The hour of sunset, the third sandhya (2) of the pious Brahmin, had arrived, and crowds of devout adorers thronged the temple of Kama Deva.
“Vast aisles and labyrinths of variegated marble, colonnades
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of agate and porphyry, vaulted root’s ablaze with circles of coloured light, – all of splendour and of mysticism that could enchain the senses and fascinate the imagination was lavishly displayed within this pagan house of prayer. On every side the walls were covered with enormous frescoes of grotesque and monstrous figures, scented volumes of sandal-wood and incense smoke rolled upward and broke against the lofty dome; and at the farthest end of the temple, where the clusters of lamps were thickest, festoons of embroidered tapestry, heavy with gold and gems, concealed the shrine of the Deity.
“Bhagwandaee, wearing the rose-garland upon her black shining tresses, stood among a group of dark-eyed maids and matrons similarly crowned. Near them I saw her betrothed and his Guru, – a man of stern and forbidding aspect. The neophyte’s face was troubled, and he seemed absorbed in meditation which precluded him from joining in the general fervour; he stood erect and motionless, his eyes fixed upon the pavement, and his arms crossed over his breast. Little meaning could the rites of Kama possess for one whose course of life from day to day was a constant warfare with love, whose loftiest ambition was to merit the honours of the ascetic and recluse. Presently a low murmur of wild, rich music and a chorus of human voices stole from the sanctuary of the temple; the congregation fell with one consent upon their faces; the sound swelled and rose into a mighty rush of voluptuous harmony, and the huge folds of tapestry before the altar parted asunder in rolling waves, disclosing within the sacred adytum the mystic image of ‘Kama Deva. Rubies, sapphires and emeralds of the rarest magnificence flashed from the brow and arms of the colossal idol. Its body shone with burnished metals, and in its five hands were strings of golden bees, and shafts of honey coloured amber, tipped with roses. Wheels of scintillating flame encompassed the shrine, and kindled into unearthly brilliancy the myriad jewels which adorned the figure of the god. A great shout of exultation filled the echoing vistas of the temple, and mingled with the pealing chords of melody around the precincts of the altar, the voice of a mighty multitude celebrating the Divinity of Love!
“Slowly the sound died again into the music, and as the worshippers rose to their feet
Bhagwandas was conscious of a new presence beside him, and the touch of a hand on his shoulder.
“Turning in surprise, he encountered the grave face of the Christian pilgrim, and perceived that he still bore with him the symbol of his philosophic faith. Startled and bewildered at so unexpected an intrusion, the young Brahmin scarcely
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suppressed a cry, but the other bending towards him, whispered earnestly; ‘Come out, – come hence with me while yet there is time; danger menaces these heathen revellers, but thou and thy beloved may yet be saved.’ With these words he seized the unresisting youth, and drew him forth from the crowd, unobserved amid the general excitement of the moment. At the doorway of the temple Bhagwandas paused, and the name of his betrothed rose to his lips. She was already beside him, – the eyes of love are quick and watchful. Noiselessly the Hindu youth and maiden followed their guide into the outer court of the temple, and into the shade of a myrtle grove beyond. There they paused, and Bhagwandas was the first to speak.
“Wherefore, father,’ said he, ‘hast thou faced the anger of my people thus, and exposed thyself to the peril of death? If my Guru should chance to have seen thine hand on mine, he will deem the laws of my caste transgressed, and all the repute of my devotion will not suffice to save me from the penalty of pilgrimage.’
“ ‘Son replied the Christian, ‘I have heard that tonight the Moslems intend to surprise the worshippers In your temple, and to pillage its shrine! Unarmed and unprepared, a company of revellers will have small chance against the forces of the Tartar invaders! Your Feast of Roses may speedily become an orgie of blood! Blame me not that I have endangered thy reputation or risked my own safety to save thee and thine affianced bride from impending doom. A brief time hence, and that reputation will avail thee nothing, for Kashmeer is in the hands of a nation by which your distinctions of caste are accounted childish folly. But thy life – with that thou mayest yet do great things l I could not endure the thought that a soul like thine should perish within the walls of a heathen temple. Forsake this corrupt religion, whose conceptions of God are as fantastic and de-formed as its idols, and depart with me to the shores of the West Thy spirit is too noble and clear-sighted to be bound with the cramp-irons of a system which, by forbidding man to foster love for human things, debars him from aspiration towards the Divine! I, too, in my youth committed a mistake yet more fatal than thine, and by an oath which I have not dared to break, severed myself from all the dearest relationships of our race. Be warned by me, – come forth from the gloomy solitude of feverish thoughts which prey upon thine heart, and enter instead into the healthy action of a loving human life. There do thine utmost, – neither God nor man will hold thee responsible for the laws of Nature! Love’s royal way reaches from earth to heaven; it is surely long enough and broad enough for thee!’
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“While yet the Templar spoke, a loud discordant shout rang through the evening calm across the beautiful valley; there followed a sudden tumult of hurrying feet and a noisy clash of arms; cries of dismay and entreaty burst out amid the confusion, and the fugitives in the myrtle grove looking forth from their place of concealment beheld the temple of Kama already surrounded and attacked by the Tartar legions. Then from the heart of the struggling host issued bands of terrified women with torn garments and dishevelled hair, wailing and beating their bosoms as they fled from the scene of their fateful gala.
“ ‘O Almighty!’ cried Bhagwandas, struck with indignation and sorrow, ‘how hard are the deeds of the world!’
“His exclamation reached the ears of a Mohammedan priest, the director of the assault, who had reined up his horse close by the myrtle thicket. ‘Ah, wretch!’ retorted he, ‘I know that craven voice! Thou art the idolater Bhagwandas, who yesterday refusedst my patronage l Thou art the coward who didst prefer a puerile seclusion to the ambition of a worthy manhood! Take the death thy meanness deserves, the death of a useless, whining cur!’ And raising himself in his saddle, the Moslem drew his bow-string to his shoulder and launched an arrow at the breast of the Hindu youth. Then, not pausing to see the result of his aim, he struck spurs to his charger and galloped away into the thick of the medley. But the doom he had threatened fell upon one whom he knew not With the noble impulsiveness of a generous nature the Christian Knight flung himself as a shield before the intended victim, and intercepted with his own body the winged death-bolt of the Mussulman. Bhagwandas and his betrothed uttered a cry of horror. Eagerly they tore the barb from the wound of the fallen man, and sought to staunch the blood which bathed his side. Vain was their tender care, – the sounds and sights of earth were already passing away from the dulled senses of the martyr. A few broken words escaped him, but they were uttered in a language unintelligible to the anxious cars of the listeners.
“He speaks in his own tongue,’ whispered the Hindu maid,’ I know not what he says, but the look on his lace is a look of peace.’
“Bhagwandas knelt, and gently touched the hand which clasped the ebony crucifix. The pulse no longer beat, the tide of life was quelled in the old man’s veins for ever.
“ ‘He is dead,’ said the Brahmin, in hushed and solemn tones, – ‘the Almighty has recalled the soul he has purified. It is the enigma of Love made perfect in Suffering!’
“Bhagwandaee answered nothing, but the tears flowed fast from her soft dark eyes. With a tender and reverent gesture
(p. 113)
she also fell on her knees. Took the rose garland from her hair and laid it on the breast of the nameless stranger who had given his life to preserve her beloved. Then she rose and put her hand in that of the youth beside her.
“ ‘Let us depart,’ she said, ‘the Moslems approach our hiding-place; we can do no more for the dead who has saved us.’
“Bhagwandas lifted the pilgrims staff from the motionless hand which had borne it so faithfully through the world. ‘Henceforth,’ he said, putting the cross to his lips, ‘this symbol of the Christian’s faith and knowledge shall also be mine own. Let Love be Lord of all; the mystery of life and suffering are God’s.’
“Then, carrying the staff, he turned to his betrothed, and hand-in-hand they passed down the myrtle-grove together.
“And I, the Rose of Kashmeer, withered upon the breast of the unknown dead!”
NOTES
(101:1) Until the time of the Mohammedan conquest mentioned in this story, Hindu women were permitted to associate freely with men of their own caste.
(103:1) In the year 1323 A. D., Kashmeer was invaded by 70.000 Tartars, whose commander established himself as sovereign of the country, and was soon after converted to Mohammedanism by a priest, who in return, was made his prime minister.
(105:1) At an early age the Brahmin youth is placed under the guidance and instruction of a man of his own caste, called a Guru, whose commands he is bound to obey, and who occupies the position of his spiritual parent and confessor.
(109:1) All Kashmeer is accounted holy land, and miraculous fountains abound in all parts of it. Many of its sacred monuments have to this day escaped the iconoclastic zeal of the Moslems.
(109:2) The Hindus observe three sandhyas, or hours of prayer, the first at sunrise, the second at noon, and third at sunset.
(p. 114)
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