CHAPTER IV.
Immediate communication was made to the relations of the defunct, that the deity of Somnat had heard the prayers of his relict, and he that was transported to a higher region, to be subjected to a change in the course of his transmigration that would bring him nearer to the final bliss of absorption into the universal Bhrim. The various connexions of the deceased were all summoned, and the neighbourhood immediately resounded with cries of lamentation, and those frantic ululations invariably heard at Hindoo funerals. The women stood screaming over the body with dishevelled hair, beating their breasts and rolling themselves upon the floor like so many wild beasts, whilst the disconsolate widow sat apart, abstracted by the thoughts of her own approaching sacrifice. She moved not; her eye was fixed on the ground, but the fountains of her grief were dry. Not a tear came to her relief—not a sigh escaped her bosom. The one awful image of death, in its most appalling form, absorbed her whole mind.
The Brahmin, before spoken of, appeared to officiate upon this melancholy occasion. He whispered in the widow’s ear words of consolation and hope, but she heard him not. He talked of her rescue from the fiery death about to be prepared for her; she disregarded him, and turned from the aged sensualist with an expression of disgust. His eyes gleamed in their hollow sockets with a deep leaden glare, and the blood rushed a moment to his flaccid cheek. He turned from his anticipated victim to proceed with the obsequies. When everything had been provided, the spiritual functionary, having previously bathed, took a narrow slip of a certain herb, and binding it round one of the fingers of the deceased, sprinkled upon the floor a quantity of lustral water, obtained from the sacred river,[5]a libation to the gods, whom heinvoked with numerous prostrations, and a variety of wild gestures. The people assembled joined in a prayer for the future repose of their relative’s soul.
When this part of the ceremony had been performed, in the strictest manner prescribed by their formularies, fire was brought from the temple, where it had been purposely kindled, and certain herbs, consecrated to this solemn purpose, were disposed near the body in four different places. Some relatives of the deceased cast into the fire a quantity of dried cow-dung pulverized. During this portion of the preparatory rites, the officiating Brahmin was occupied in prayer, but paused in the midst of his orison, to perform an essential part of the funeral solemnities. A cow, adorned with flowers, was introduced at this auspicious juncture, and presented to the minister to prevent the defunct from being unhappy in his mutation, which the venerable hierophant promised, without any reservation, that he should not be, in consequence of the Brahmin’s prayers. Several offerings of a different kind, but no less valuable, were made to this disinterested priest before the obsequies were completed.
The ceremony of the Prayatchitam, or expiation of sins, was next performed. It consisted of prayers, after which the soul of the deceased was evoked, and certain astrological calculations made respecting the constellation under which he expired.
The body was now washed. On the forehead was marked the sigh of the caste, with a compost of ochre, fine clay, and oil; it was then arrayed in the funeral robe, and a piece of areka-nut forced into its mouth. A small fillet of linen was next torn into strips over the face; with those strips the two thumbs were tied, and the corpse being rubbed with a piece of sandal-wood, which emits a very strong and fragrant odour, was laid upon a palankeen covered with red cloth, the Hindoo pall, and ornamented with flowers.
A large aperture was now made in the wall of the house, which had no second story, and through this the body was conveyed in a sitting posture to the pile, the aperture being closed up the moment the corpse had been carried through.
When the procession had reached the gate of the court fronting the house, it was preceded by two men nearly naked, bearing each a long trumpet, the mournful sound of which, as dissonant as it was loud, blended with the noise of tomtoms, finger-drums, cymbals, and various other noisy instruments, produced a din sufficient to scare the living into the condition of the dead. To this portentous clamour the numerous relatives of the deceased united their wild wailings, more like the baying of dogs than the lamentations of rational beings. Some cried, others screamed and tore their hair, whilst several sang the praises of the defunct in a hoarse monotonous chant. The dress of these energetic mourners consisted simply of a single piece of cloth wrapped round their bodies, hanging from the head to the knees.
When the procession reached its destination, the palankeen was placed upon the ground, four furrows were traced towards the four cardinal points and oblations of gengeli and rice were offered to those aerial spirits supposed to inhabit the mansions of the dead, in order to propitiate their goodwill.
The nose of the defunct was now pinched, to ascertain if there remained any signs of life; for the Hindoos suppose that the dead may be resuscitated, though no such fact is recorded by their fabricators of marvels. Water was next poured upon the head of the corpse, and the noise of tomtoms and trumpets was redoubled, to awaken the dead man should he happen to be in a trance. It being at length ascertained that the spirit had quitted, and not returned to the insensate clay, the body was again placed on the palankeen and carried close to the spot intended for the funeral pile, the immediate vicinity having been first purified with Gangetic water, and cleared of every particle of dirt supposed to convey defilement. This portion of the ceremony was accompanied with numerous prayers and prostrations.
All these forms having been scrupulously observed, the corpse was placed upon a stone always erected near the Chodelet, which is the place appointed for cremation of the deceased. This stone represents Aritchandren, a virtuous king, who, becoming slave to the chief of the Pariahs, was employed by his master to take careof the Chodelet, and receive the taxes to be paid on burning the dead. After various fantastic mummeries and vociferous supplications, some pieces of copper money were buried before Aritchandren, together with a small bit of new cloth and a handful of rice, by way of a burial fee. One of the Pariahs, whose office it was to look after the fire, then approached the stone, and informed Aritchandren,[6]that, having received the regular tribute, he must permit the body to pass. The palankeen was now sent back, the hair and nails of the defunct were carefully cut, and the funeral pile was prepared. Branches of the sandal tree were made use of for this purpose, it being imagined by all pious Hindoos that this tree has more virtue than any other, save the mango, in promoting the happiness of the deceased, both being trees consecrated to their gods. Branches of the ficus religiosa and of the banian tree are occasionally used, but only by those who cannot afford to purchase the more costly wood of the rarer trees.
The pile being at length prepared, the corpse was placed upon it. The nearest relation performed this melancholy office, and prepared the last repast for the dead. In order that the departed might go into the other world with sufficient food for his journey, butter, rice, and curds were put into the hands, mouth, and ears of the corpse.
Thus ended this part of the ceremony.[7]It was a long and tiresome process, but nothing could divert those engaged in it from performing the minutest thing prescribed in their formulary. On the morning of the Hindoo’s death, alarm had been spread through the town of the approach of Mahmood’s army, which report was shortly after confirmed by his investing the fort with thirty thousand men. This did not in the slightest degree interrupt the obsequies. Not a creature present seemed to bestow a thought upon the danger of being threatened by a large besieging army, headed by a great prince and a successful warrior. They reliedupon the protection of their idol, which they imagined could blast the enemy with the lightning of its wrath, and rescue them from the threatened peril. They heard the din of battle while engaged in performing the funeral rites, but it diverted them not from their solemn purpose. The name of Mahmood the victorious was shouted without the walls, and re-echoed within them with a general acclamation of defiance. Thousands of unarmed fanatics crowded the ramparts, confident of divine interposition, and loaded the air with curses upon the followers of a new faith.
During the performance of the funeral rites, the beautiful widow had remained apart, absorbed in the solemn intensity of her own thoughts. The death of a husband whom she tenderly loved shook her heart with a severe pang, and the thought of the awful sacrifice which his death imposed upon her dilated her bosom with a deep and palpable terror; still she resolved to die. With her the high sense of duty was paramount over every selfish consideration, and she braced her resolution to undergo one of the most fearful sacrifices which the madness of bigotry has imposed upon the credulity of devout but imbecile minds.
The body of her husband was already upon the fatal pyre, and all things were ready for her to consummate that act of devotion, which, as she had been taught to believe, should secure her an eternal communion with her consort in paradise. The Brahmin approached her to announce that she was waited for. He advanced towards her alone, and bade her be of good cheer.
“Thou shalt not perish,” he cried; “trust to me and I will save thee, to reap the harvest of joy in an earthly paradise, before you ascend to one of brighter promise indeed, but of more remote certainty.”
“What mean you? My doom is fixed. I must join my husband upon the funeral pile, that our souls may ascend together to that sphere which his spirit is destined to enter.”
“But would you not rather evade this fiery death?”
“Why should I? Is it not imposed upon us by a wise and immutable will?—how then can I evade it?”
“Would you rather live?”
“Not if it be my duty to die.”
“You are not bound to perish unless you desire it. The deity will absolve you from the obligation upon certain conditions.”
“What are they?”
“That you will reward with your love his vicegerent here, whose ministration he has approved, and to whom he has imparted superhuman power, as the reward of a life of faithful homage. I will bear you to a retreat where no sorrow shall visit you, and where every moment of your life shall be gilded with a blessing.”
“Mocker!—this is no time for delusion: bear me to the pyre, and you shall see how a Hindoo widow can die.”
“But why would you court death, when happiness is within your grasp!”
“Because death with a beloved husband were a blessed boon compared with life with an aged and sensual Brahmin. Priest, I despise thee:—lead me to the pyre.”
The Brahmin was silent. He folded his arms, and fixed upon her a look of deep and implacable malice.
“I fear thee not,” she cried, rising; “conduct me to my doom; the gods will applaud what their priest may scorn; but I reverence the one and despise the other.” She beckoned to her women, who approached, and declared to them that she was ready to ascend the pyre, upon which her husband’s body had been already some time laid. The ministering priest did not utter a word, and made ready to commence the initiatory ceremonies.
FOOTNOTES:[5]The Ganges.[6]The Greek Charon and this Hindoo toll-taker would appear to be identical; but the Greeks have been indebted to Hindoo superstition for many other notions, the parallels of which are too strong to be mistaken.[7]See Sonnerat, vol. ii., on Hindoo funerals.
[5]The Ganges.
[5]The Ganges.
[6]The Greek Charon and this Hindoo toll-taker would appear to be identical; but the Greeks have been indebted to Hindoo superstition for many other notions, the parallels of which are too strong to be mistaken.
[6]The Greek Charon and this Hindoo toll-taker would appear to be identical; but the Greeks have been indebted to Hindoo superstition for many other notions, the parallels of which are too strong to be mistaken.
[7]See Sonnerat, vol. ii., on Hindoo funerals.
[7]See Sonnerat, vol. ii., on Hindoo funerals.