blage of fair ideas! but may that which is dearest to his heart, be the friendship of Zaarmilla! What can I say more! ed many of the wisest Hindoos "to believe, that the whole creation was rather an energy than a work, by which the Infinite Being, who is present at all times, in all places, exhibits to the minds of his creatures a set of perceptions like a wonderful picture or piece of music, always varied, yet always uniform; so that all bodies, and their qualities, exist, indeed, to every wise and useful purpose; but exist only as far as they are perceived. This Illusive Operation of the Deity, the Hindoo philosophers call Maya, or Deception." See the Argument to the above mentioned Hymn. [In the correspondence of the Rajah we here find a chasm of several years. Though none of the letters bear any date, we have, from circumstances mentioned in the preceding ones, concluded them to have been written toward the beginning of the year 1775. Those which follow, we presume, could not have been written before the year 1779, or 1780.] LETTER VIII. From the Rajah Zaarmilla to Maandaara. (Written from Barellee.) MAY the powerful Eendra be ever propitious to the most benignant of friends; and the Goddess Sree preserve his heart from the arrows of affliction! An opportunity offers, of which I am not slow to avail myself, of sending thee information of my health and safety. Had not sorrow spread its raven wing over the beauties of every prospect, my journey might have been delightful. But, alas! to him, whose heart is oppressed by recent calamity, the face of nature is veiled in darkness. My person was soon at a distance from the scene of sorrow, but,from it I could not, by distance, disengage my mind. Prymaveda! my affectionate and faithful Prymaveda, expiring in my arms, was the picture that every-where presented itself to my eyes. Her last low and feeble sighs, were still the only sounds which vibrated upon my ears. Change of scene afforded no alleviation to my grief, and time, whose tongue of fire devoureth all things, appeared to move with too slow a pace to leave me room to hope much from his assistance. One only source of consolation presented itself to my deeply wounded mind, it was the reflection of having contributed to the happiness of her whose image dwells in my heart. Had I ever reproved with harshness, or indulged my pride in the morose exercise of authority, how insupportable would be the bitterness of my affliction! Let not Maandaara reproach his friend for indulging in these melancholy reflections. The woman, who is attached to her husband, will follow the spirit of her departed Lord, even though condemned to the regions of punishment; and shall my soul forget her who waiteth for me in the realms of death? She, from whom sprung my final deliverer!* She, who was the companion of my days, the friend of my heart, whose gentle manners, and pru * Alluding to the ceremony of the Sradh, which the Hindoos believe it necessary should be performed by a man's own son, in order to facilitate his entrance to the regions of felicity; it is, therefore, by them esteemed a great misfortune to die childless. In the drama of Sacontala, Dushmanta thus laments his fate: "Ah me! the departed souls of my ancestors, who claim a share in the funeral cake, which I have no son to offer, are apprehensive of losing their due honour.-My forefathers must drink, instead of a pure libation, this flood of tears, the only offering which a man, who dies childless, can make." See Sacontala, page 125. |