These nymphs are also called the nauragini, from raga, a mode of song over which each presides, and naurasa, or ‘nine passions,’ excited by the powers [540] of harmony. May we not in this trace the origin of Apollo and the sacred nine? In the manner described above, the rasmandal is typical of the zodiacal phenomena; and in each sign a musical nymph is sculptured in alto-relievo, in the vaulted temples dedicated to the god,^[34] or in secular edifices by way of ornament, as in the triumphal column of Chitor. On the festival of the Janam,^[35] or ‘birth-day,’ there is a scenic representation of Kanhaiya and the Gopis: when are rehearsed in the mellifluous accents of the Ionic land of Vraj, the songs of Jayadeva, as addressed by Kanhaiya to Radha and her companions. A specimen of these, as translated by that elegant scholar, Sir W. Jones, may not be considered inappropriate here.

“If thy soul be delighted with the remembrance of Hari, or sensible to the raptures of love, listen to the voice of Jayadeva, whose notes are both sweet and brilliant.”

The poet opens the first interview of Krishna and Radha with an animated description of a night in the rainy season, in which Hari is represented as a wanderer, and Radha, daughter of the shepherd Nanda, is sent to offer him shelter in their cot.^[37] Nanda thus speaks to Radha: “The firmament is obscured by clouds; the woodlands are black with Tamala trees; that youth who roves in the forest will be fearful in the gloom of night; go, my daughter, bring the wanderer to my rustic mansion. Such was the command of Nanda the herdsman, and hence arose the love of Radha and Madhava.”^[38]

The poet proceeds to apostrophize Hari, which the Hindu bard terms rupaka, or ‘personal description’:

“Oh thou who reclinest on the bosom of Kamala, whose ears flame with gems, and whose locks are embellished with sylvan flowers; thou, from whom the [541] day-star derived his effulgence, who slewest the venom-breathing Kaliya, who beamedst like a sun on the tribe of Yadu, that flourished like a lotus; thou, who sittest on the plumage of Garuda, who sippest nectar from the radiant lips of Padma, as the fluttering chakora drinks the moonbeams; be victorious, O Hari.”

Jayadeva then introduces Hari in the society of the pastoral nymphs of Vraj, whom he groups with admirable skill, expressing the passion by which each is animated towards the youthful prince with great warmth and elegance of diction. But Radha, indignant that he should divide with them the affection she deemed exclusively her own, flies his presence. Hari, repentant and alarmed, now searches the forest for his beloved, giving vent at each step to impassioned grief. “Woe is me! she feels a sense of injured honour, and has departed in wrath. How will she conduct herself? How will she express her pain in so long a separation? What is wealth to me? What are numerous attendants? What the pleasures of the world? How can I invite thee to return? Grant me but a sight of thee, oh! lovely Radha, for my passion torments me. O God of love! mistake me not for Siva. Wound me not again. I love already but too passionately; yet have I lost my beloved. Brace not thy bow, thou conqueror of the world! My heart is already pierced by arrows from Radha’s eyes, black and keen as those of the antelope.”

Radha relents and sends a damsel in quest of Hari, whom she finds in a solitary arbour on the banks of the Yamuna. She describes her mistress as animated by the same despair which controls him:

“Her face is like a water-lily veiled in the dew of tears, and her eyes are as moons eclipsed. She draws thy picture and worships it, and at the close of every sentence exclaims, ‘O Madhava, at thy feet am I fallen!’ Then she figures thee standing before her: she sighs, she smiles, she mourns, she weeps. Her abode, the forest—herself through thy absence is become a timid roe, and love is the tiger who springs on her, like Yama, the genius of death. So emaciated is her beautiful body, that even the light garland which waves o’er her bosom is a load. The palm of her hand supports her aching temple, motionless as the crescent rising at eve. Thus, O divine healer, by the nectar of thy love [542] must Radha be restored to health; and if thou refusest, thy heart must be harder than the thunder-stone.”^[39]

The damsel returns to Radha and reports the condition of Hari, mourning her absence: “Even the hum of the bee distracts him. Misery sits fixed in his heart, and every returning night adds anguish to anguish.” She then recommends Radha to seek him. “Delay not, O loveliest of women; follow the lord of thy heart. Having bound his locks with forest flowers, he hastens to yon arbour, where a soft gale breathes over the banks of Yamuna, and there pronouncing thy name, he modulates his divine reed. Leave behind thee, O friend, the ring which tinkles on thy delicate ankle when thou sportest in the dance. Cast over thee thy azure mantle and run to the shady bower.”

But Radha, too weak to move, is thus reported to Hari by the same fair mediator: “She looks eagerly on all sides in hope of thy approach: she advances a few steps and falls languid to the ground. She weaves bracelets of fresh leaves, and looking at herself in sport, exclaims, behold the vanquisher of Madhu! Then she repeats the name of Hari, and catching at a dark blue cloud,^[40] strives to embrace it, saying, ‘It is my beloved who approaches.’”

Midnight arrives, but neither Hari nor the damsel returns, when she gives herself up to the frenzy of despair, exclaiming: “The perfidy of my friend rends my heart. Bring disease and death, O gale of Malaya! receive me in thy azure wave, O sister of Yama,^[41] that the ardour of my heart may be allayed.”

The repentant Hari at length returns, and in speech well calculated to win forgiveness, thus pleads his pardon:

“Oh! grant me a draught of honey from the lotus of thy mouth: or if thou art inexorable, grant me death from the arrows of thine eyes; make thy arms my chains: thou art my ornament; thou art the pearl in the ocean of my mortal birth! Thine eyes, which nature formed like blue water-lilies, are become through thy resentment like petals of the crimson lotus! Thy silence affects me; oh! speak with the voice of music, and let thy sweet accents allay my ardour” [543].

“Radha with timid joy, darting her eyes on Govinda while she musically sounded the rings of her ankles and the bells of her zone,^[42] entered the mystic bower of her beloved. His heart was agitated by her sight, as the waves of the deep are affected by the lunar orb.^[43] From his graceful waist flowed a pale yellow robe,^[44] which resembled the golden dust of the water-lily scattered over its blue petals.^[45] His locks interwoven with blossoms, were like a cloud variegated by the moonbeam. Tears of transport gushed in a stream from the full eyes of Radha, and their watery glances beamed on her best beloved. Even shame, which had before taken its abode in their dark pupils, was itself ashamed,^[46] and departed when the fawn-eyed Radha gazed on the bright face of Krishna.”

The poet proceeds to describe Apollo’s bower on the sable Yamuna, as ‘Love’s recess’; and sanctifies it as

In the morning the blue god aids in Radha’s simple toilet. He stains her eye with antimony “which would make the blackest bee envious,” places “a circle of musk on her forehead,” and intertwines “a chaplet of flowers and peacock’s feathers in her dark tresses,” replacing “the zone of golden bells.” The bard concludes as he commenced, with an eulogium on the inspirations of his muse, which it is evident were set to music. “Whatever is delightful in the modes of music, whatever is graceful in the fine strains of poetry, whatever is exquisite in the sweet art of love, let the happy and wise learn from the songs of Jayadeva.”

The coincidence between the most common epithets of the Apollos of Greece and India, as applied to the sun, are peculiarly striking. Hari, as Bhannath, ‘the lord of beams,’ is Phoebus, and his heaven is Haripur (Heliopolis), or ‘city of Hari.’^[54] Helios (Ἥλιος) was a title of Apollo, whence the Greeks had their Elysium, the Haripur or Bhanthan (the abode of the sun), the highest of the [546] heavens or abodes of bliss of the martial Rajput. Hence the eagle (the emblem of Hari as the sun)^[55] was adopted by the western warrior as the symbol of victory.

The Di Majores of the Rajput are the same in number and title as amongst the Greeks and Romans, being the deities who figuratively preside over the planetary system. Their grades of bliss are therefore in unison with the eccentricity of orbit of the planet named. On this account Chandra or Indu, the moon, being a mere satellite of Ila, the earth, though probably originating the name of the Indu race, is inferior in the scale of blissful abodes to that of his son Budha or Mercury, whose heliacal appearance gave him importance even with the sons of Vaivasvata, the sun. From the poetic seers of the martial races we learn that there are two distinct places of reward; the one essentially spiritual, the other of a material nature. The bard inculcates that the warrior who falls in battle in the fulfilment of his duty, “who abandons life through the wave of steel,” will know no “second birth,” but that the unconfined spark (jyotis) will reunite to the parent orb. The doctrine of transmigration through a variety of hideous forms may be considered as a series of purgatories.

The Greeks and Celts worshipped Apollo under the title of Carneios,^[56] which “selon le scholiaste de Théocrite” is derived from Carnos, “qui ne prophétisoit que des malheurs aux Héraclides lors de leur incursion dans le Péloponnèse. Un d’eux appelé Hippotés, le tua d’un coup de flèche.” Now one of the titles of the Hindu Apollo is Karna, ‘the radiant’; from karna, ‘a ray’: and when he led the remains of the Harikulas in company with Baldeva (the god of strength), and Yudhishthira, after the great international war, into the Peloponnesus of Saurashtra, they were attacked by the aboriginal Bhils, one of whom slew the divine Karna with an arrow. The Bhils claim to be of Hayavansa, or the race of Haya, whose chief seat was at Maheswar on the Nerbudda: the assassin of Karna would consequently be Hayaputra, or descendant of Haya^[57] [547].

The most celebrated of the monuments commonly termed Druidic, scattered throughout Europe, is at Carnac in Brittany, on which coast the Celtic Apollo had his shrines, and was propitiated under the title of Karneios, and this monument may be considered at once sacred to the manes of the warriors and the sun-god Karneios. Thus the Roman Saturnalia, the carnivale, has a better etymology in the festival to Karneios, as the sun, than in the ‘adieu to flesh’ during the fast. The character of this festival is entirely oriental, and accompanied with the licentiousness which belonged to the celebration of the powers of nature. Even now, although Christianity has banished the grosser forms, it partakes more of a Pagan than a Christian ceremony.

Nathji, the god, or Gordhannath, god of the mount Nathdwara.

Nathji is not enumerated amongst the forms; he stands supreme.

Nonita, or Nonanda, the juvenile Kanhaiya, has his altar separate, though close to Nathji. He is also styled Balamukund, ‘the blessed child,’^[63] and is depicted as an infant with pera^[64] or comfit-ball in his hand. This image, which was one of the penates of a former age, and which, since the destruction of the shrines of [549] Krishna by the Islamites, had lain in the Yamuna, attached itself to the sacerdotal zone (Janeo) of the high-priest Balba, while he was performing his ablutions, who, carrying it home, placed it in a niche of the temple and worshipped it: and Nonanda yet receives the peculiar homage of the high-priest and his family as their household divinity. Of the second image, Mathuranath, there is no particular mention: it was at one time at Khamnor in Mewar, but is now at Kotah.

Balkrishna, the third son, had Dwarkanath, which statue, now at Kankroli in Mewar, is asserted to be the identical image that received the adoration of Raja Amaraka, a prince of the solar race who lived in the Satya Yuga, or silver age. The ‘god of the mount’ revealed himself in a dream to his high-priest, and told him of the domicile of this his representative at Kanauj. Thither Balba repaired, and having obtained it from the Brahman, appointed Damodardas Khatri to officiate at his altar.

The fourth statue, that of Gokulnath, or Gokul Chandrama (i.e. the moon of Gokul), had an equally mysterious origin, having been discovered in a deep ravine on the banks of the river; Balba assigned it to his brother-in-law. Gokul is an island on the Jumna,^[65] a few miles below Mathura, and celebrated in the early history of the pastoral divinity. The residence of this image at Jaipur does not deprive the little island of its honours as a place of pilgrimage; for the ‘god of Gokul’ has an altar on the original site, and his rites are performed by an aged priestess, who disowns the jurisdiction of the high-priest of Nathdwara, both in the spiritual and temporal concerns of her shrine; and who, to the no small scandal of all who are interested in Apollo, appealed from the fiat of the high-priest to the British court of justice. The royal grants of the Mogul emperors were produced, which proved the right to lie in the high-priest, though a long period of almost undisturbed authority had created a feeling of independent control in the family of the priestess, which they desired might continue. A compromise ensued, when the Author was instrumental in restoring harmony to the shrines of Apollo.

The fifth, Yadunath, is the deified ancestor of the whole Yadu race. This image, now at Surat, formerly adorned the shrine of Mahaban near Mathura which was destroyed by Mahmud [550].

The sixth, Vitthalnath, or Pandurang,^[66] was found in the Ganges at Benares, Samvat 1572 (A.D. 1516), from which we may judge of their habit of multiplying divinities.

The seventh, Madan Mohana, ‘he who intoxicates with desire,’ the seductive lover of Radha and the Gopis, has his rites performed by a female. The present priestess of Mohana is the mother of Damodara, the supreme head of all who adore the Apollo of Vraj.

As the supreme head of the Vishnu sect his person is held to be Ansa, or ‘a portion of the divinity’; and it is maintained that so late as the father of the present incumbent, the god manifested himself and conversed with the high-priest. The present pontiff is now about thirty years of age. He is of a benign aspect, with much dignity of demeanour: courteous, yet exacting the homage due to his high calling: meek, as becomes the priest of Govinda, but with the finished manners of one accustomed to the first society. His features are finely moulded, and his complexion good. He is about the middle size, though as he rises to no mortal, I could not exactly judge of his height. When I saw him he had one only daughter, to whom he is much attached. He has but one wife, nor does Krishna allow polygamy to his priest. In times of danger, like some of his prototypes in the dark ages of Europe, he poised the lance, and found it more effective than spiritual anathemas, against those who would first adore the god, and then plunder him. Such were the Mahratta chiefs, Jaswant Rao Holkar and Bapu Sindhia. Damodara accordingly made the [551] tour of his extensive diocese at the head of four hundred horse, two standards of foot, and two field-pieces. He rode the finest mares in the country; laid aside his pontificals for the quilted dagla, and was summoned to matins by the kettle-drum instead of the bell and cymbal. In this he only imitated Kanhaiya, who often mixed in the ranks of battle, and “dyed his saffron robe in the red-stained field.” Had Damodara been captured on one of these occasions by any marauding Pathan, and incarcerated, as he assuredly would have been, for ransom, the marauder might have replied to the Rana, as did the Plantagenet king to the Pope, when the surrender of the captive church-militant bishop was demanded, “Is this thy son Joseph’s coat?” But, notwithstanding this display of martial principle, which covered with a helmet the shaven crown, his conduct and character are amiable and unexceptionable, and he furnishes a striking contrast to the late head of the Vishnu establishments in Marwar, who commenced with the care of his master’s conscience, and ended with that of the State; meek and unassuming till he added temporal^[68] to spiritual power, which developed unlimited pride, with all the qualities that too often wait on “a little brief authority,” and to the display of which he fell a victim. Damodara,^[69] similarly circumstanced, might have evinced the same failings, and have met the same end; but though endeavours were made to give him political influence at the Rana’s court, yet, partly from his own good sense, and partly through the dissuasion of the Nestor of Kotah (Zalim Singh), he was not entrained in the vortex of its intrigues, which must have involved the sacrifice of wealth and the proper dignity of his station [552].