Anunda was not a person to allow useless time to elapse between
the ascertained necessity of any act and its completion, and the
preparation for the marriage went on merrily. What stores of flour,
and rice and ghee, and condiments were laid in! What gorgeous dresses
selected! Ah, young English ladies, and indeed I may include mothers
also, who may read these pages, you are not to believe that wedding
trousseaux are confined to your own country and society! Very far from
it. A young Hindu lady, or Mahomedan either--there is not much to
choose between them in this respect--is as full of hope of a liberal,
a handsome, outfit on her marriage, as any fashionable young lady of
Belgravia or Mayfair; and believe me, is as proportionably delighted if
it be so.
There was much to spend, and no grudging. So one old cloth-seller had
been dispatched to Sholapoor, and another to Wyrāg; one to Nuldroog
also, then a large camp and emporium: and the result was, as we may
say, an overplus of riches. It was hard to select from the bales on
bales which were sent up from the shops; still, piece by piece, the
dresses accumulated, and were indeed lovely. Silk and gold sarees; silk
and cotton mixed; plain cotton with silk borders; bodice pieces, stiff
with gold and brocade--all betokening wealth and comfort. No milliner
required here. The garments of one piece, only remarkable for their
richness and diversity of colour and pattern, were such as were, and
are still, worn by the better classes of society. Anunda was determined
that no fault could be found with her own and Tara's selection, and
certainly it was better to be on the liberal side.
Then how busy the goldsmiths were! In the Shastree's school court,
half-a-dozen men, sometimes more, were to be seen sitting over pans of
charcoal, blowpipe in hand, beating silver or gold on small anvils, and
fashioning them into massive and quaintly beautiful ornaments. Anunda
had given some of her old things to be broken up and re-made. We will
not say how many ounces of virgin gold were added, but here too the
good lady was liberal--very liberal; and Tara, of her own accord, had
added from her own store some valuable jewels. Yes, the arrangements
for the marriage were to be pushed on; it must be completed within a
month, for after that, there was a "gutt" or planetary conjunction
averse to marriage, which was to last long. As yet the day had not
been fixed, but it must soon be; and the Shastree was passive when it
was mentioned. Not so those with whom he had now irrevocably connected
himself.
On the other side, preparations had been as active, though simpler.
Moro Trimmul's object was haste, and he had desired his aunt and
sister to spare nothing within their means. Strangers as they were in
the town, they found the girl Gunga, with whom, since the ceremony at
the temple, Sukya Bye had become intimate, a very useful ally. She
knew what Anunda was preparing. Her gossips--the flower-sellers, the
cloth-merchants, and the goldsmiths--detailed all that was being done,
and to aunt and niece they were amply satisfactory. They knew the
Shastree was wealthy, but the profusion they heard of surprised them.
"The Shastree loves thee, girl," the lady Sukya would say. "He will
spend his wealth on thee. What lucky chance brought us here, who can
tell? else who would have cared for thee? To whom could we have given
thee? Be content; he is not old; he will love thee, for thou art
beautiful. Wait and see."
Truly she was so! Not Tara's tranquil, pensive beauty; not Anunda's
even in her prime. This girl was very different from both. She was
darker than either--a warm, richly-tinted, clear, golden brown, with
a skin like velvet; a small head, oval face--perhaps more round than
oval--and a mass of thick wavy hair, which, if loosened, fell far below
her waist, curling at the ends; a low broad forehead, strongly marked
arched eyebrows, and a nose straight and delicate in outline, were
perhaps the ordinary possessions of a good-looking, well-bred Mahratta
girl; but the eyes and mouth were more remarkable, because they gave an
index to her character.
"We will not tell what she is like," Anunda said, as her husband
frequently asked her of Radha, for as yet he had not seen her. Perhaps
he was indifferent on the subject, yet hardly so; it would have been
unnatural not to care at all. Certainly, as the days passed, the
Shastree grew somewhat curious, and he had to wait many more ere he
should see her.
"Content thyself, husband," Anunda would say, as he questioned her;
"I have told thee she is beautiful, else I had not noticed her: she
hath a shape like a nymph, eyes like a deer, and a mouth like that of
Kāmdeo. What need to say more? Wait and see." So the Shastree waited
patiently. Another would have followed the girl--contrived to see her
by some means not perhaps over scrupulously; but the Shastree was very
honourable, and such an alternative did not even suggest itself to him.
But they were right. What Anunda had noticed, and Tara too, were only
the eyes and mouth and the figure. Who could pass them by unheeded?
Such eyes--so large, so soft in their velvet blackness when at rest,
yet if excited, how different! The long, thick lashes, which were
positively heavy in character, shaded them ordinarily, and produced a
soft, dreamy effect; but if the girl looked up, or was interested, or
suddenly roused, these eyes seemed to glow internally, and to assume a
character almost oppressively fascinating.
Radha well knew their power: since she was a child she had been told
of the beauty of her eyes, and she believed it--nay, added to their
expression by slightly staining the inner portion of her eyelids,
which gave to the already heavy lashes a softer character if the eyes
were at rest, or increased their effect if they were excited. Lately
a habit had grown upon her of contracting her brows, and dilating her
eyes till their effect was almost fierce, which both her brother and
aunt had tried to check, but it did not leave her easily. Sometimes it
gave place to a look of dreamy languor inexpressibly touching, and so
sorrowful in character that, had the girl been older, it might have
been attributed to some great grief lying at her heart, or some painful
recollection. As it was, it was unsuspected, except by those who knew
the cause.
The mouth followed the eyes. When they were excited by any emotion,
the lips at once closed and were firmly compressed; but ordinarily
they remained a little open in the centre, showing teeth white, pure,
and glistening with a pearly lustre. The lips were full, red, and
moist--the upper deeply arched and curved, with the corners falling
back into deep dimples; yet the mouth was small and delicate, pouting,
and decidedly voluptuous when at rest or smiling, yet capable of
being hardened into an expression of self-will and obstinacy, which
indicated an inflexible determination should there be occasion to
exercise it. No wonder that, seeing her in her most placable moods--for
the girl from the first had appeared charmed by the prospect of her
marriage--Anunda and Tara had been captivated by beauty so remarkable.
It would have been well, perhaps, could they have seen the face under
other expressions, and so been saved from what, under different
circumstances, had an irresistible fascination.
Need her figure be described? Being younger than Tara, there was not
the same development of form. The arms and throat were less rounded,
yet the lines were as graceful and full of promise of perfection as
hers. Eventually they would be about the same height--Radha, perhaps,
a shade taller, and both slighter than Anunda ever had been. Her hands
and feet were small and beautifully formed, more so, perhaps, than
Tara's; they were indeed, remarkable features in her figure--so much so
that, as Tara was bathing her one day, and washing them, she had held
them to her lips and kissed them in succession involuntarily.
It was difficult to tell her age. Her "birth letter" told the Shastree
she was not yet twelve. Had she exceeded much that age, to their
knowledge, Anunda would have objected to the marriage; indeed, she
could not have been married at all. But she was in reality fourteen,
nay more. Sometimes, when her features relaxed, her eyes soft and
dreamy, her mouth smiling, and her whole face assuming a loving
tenderness of expression, she appeared hardly the age she was said to
be; but when there was any change, and the rigid look already noticed
took its place, she appeared considerably older.
Now, Anunda was by no means desirous of a very young girl for
her husband's new wife. Many had been offered of very tender age
indeed, whom she had invariably declined. She could not be troubled
with a child; and if a thought that Radha might be older than she
was represented to be, ever crossed her mind, a bright smile, a
tender caress from the girl at once removed the doubt, and restored
confidence. As to her figure, it did but furnish earnest of mature
development. And were not many girls precocious? She had been so
herself. Yes, Radha was very beautiful; and, as day after day passed,
Anunda longed the more for the time when she should be able to clothe
her in one of those gorgeous dresses, to deck her with flowers and
jewels, and to present her to her husband a bride worthy of him--worthy
of her own affection--the most precious gift she could make to him.
We have said that Radha was older than she was represented--and perhaps
a brief sketch of her previous history is needful. She had been an
indulged and precocious child, of a vain, weak, but beautiful mother.
Her father, one of the hereditary Josees, or astrologers, of Wye,
had died some years before, and her mother shortly after him. Moro
Trimmul, on succeeding to the care of the house, had given charge of
his sister to his aunt, and betaken himself to the company of certain
wild associates, with whom, from his powers of learning, he had become
an especial favourite. The head of these was the Rajah Sivaji, whose
rapid career to independence was one of the remarkable events of the
times; and the wild exploits of the young prince, his raids against
the Moghuls and Mahomedans in general, had long since enlisted the
sympathies of the Mahratta people.
Sivaji's early career had been dissolute, but that was a venial
fault among the people. His companions were the young Mahratta
gentry,--yeomen, and farmers, whom he best loved to draw about him;
above all, young Brahmuns who would join him, whether as priests or
soldiers, or both, in his wild enterprises. Moro Trimmul was one of
these--one who had grown into his deepest confidence. So long as Moro's
father lived, he had in some degree restrained his son; but his private
meetings with his prince were still frequent; and in the plays and
recitations, of which Sivaji was passionately fond, Moro was generally
an actor and reciter. Thus it was that Sivaji frequently came to Wye,
and put up at the Josee's house; and so he came to know Radha--a
beautiful child then, whom he could caress without hindrance. He a
Mahratta, she a Brahmun--any union was impossible; and yet she grew to
be more than interesting to him as she advanced in age.
Eventually Radha's betrothed husband died. Other offers were made for
her, but were always refused, so peremptorily, that people believed the
report designedly set afoot by her brother and Sukya Bye, that she was
to be married to a distant relative who, now absent on pilgrimages,
would return and claim her, or she would have to be taken to him. And
so the girl grew, the time for marriage passed, and the Rajah's visits,
often clandestine, were encouraged by aunt and nephew, with what
ultimate hope of result might be imagined. Yet both were careful there
should be no scandal.
Perhaps their scheme might have succeeded had not Sivaji himself, now
feeling his way to power, seen the peril of the connection. Was she
wife or widow, there might have been fewer scruples, but, an unmarried
Brahmun girl would be a burden, a disgrace, which he dared not
encounter--one that would not fail to be resented by the priests, whom
it was his aim to gain. He could not spare one so devoted, so able, and
so unscrupulous as Moro Trimmul, nor could he replace him; he needed
many such, and he loved him too much to break with him on this point.
It was a hard struggle. But the young prince, whose firm will and
self-control finally won him a kingdom, successfully resisted
the opportunities deliberately offered. As the girl grew, as his
intercourse with the house became more and more unreserved, it
was clear to him that her love for him was growing as part of her
existence. The girl, for whom he had always a kind word and free
greeting, who claimed the privilege of serving "her Rajah," when he
put up at their house, became by degrees shy and reserved; cried if he
spoke kindly to her, and trembled if he approached her. He could not be
mistaken in those eyes: they told their own story--love.
Under such circumstances, among such people, love is passion. It has no
medium except in maturer age and constant association. The girl--still
a child in years--loved deeply, passionately; and as she grew older,
month by month, day by day, the news of her prince's exploits, now
beginning to be sung in ballads through the country, excited her
fearfully. Her aunt and brother had detected her in more than one
attempt to escape to him, and, fearful of the result, had prevented
it. Had he taken her away, would they have pursued? Surely not; but he
was careful--he admitted his own danger to himself--and he gradually
avoided the house, though he clung the more closely to Moro Trimmul.
Radha found means to send occasional messages to him--a child's love,
a child's yearning for him were told to him; and we know that, in some
instances, a child's love--there and here the same--is more passionate,
because more pure and more absorbing, than a woman's. What was marriage
to her? If she could only be with her Rajah--to serve him, to live with
him, to ride, nay, to fight with him--she would go, or die.
The last time Sivaji had seen her she had grown desperate. She had
never spoken so to him before; but she had told him she must die if he
did not take her away. "Nay, but I will come with thee," she cried,
"even if thou cast me out among thy servants." And he confided this
to her brother. "For my sake," he said, impressively, "if not for
thine and hers, keep her safe; take her away and have her married; the
farther away from hence the better. It is no use speaking to her. Moro
Trimmul! save me from the temptation, thyself from the contumely this
would bring upon us. I know what is in thy heart; but, beautiful as she
is, it cannot be."
So a plan was quickly arranged between them. Moro had an intimate
acquaintance with the Mahratta gentry of the Dekhan, and he was
despatched to canvass them. This necessitated journeys from place to
place. He was well provided with money, and he travelled, as one under
vows of pilgrimage, to different shrines. Thus opportunity might occur
for marrying Radha; and, leaving all servants behind him but a few
men in whom he had perfect confidence, he took his aunt Sukya Bye with
him as protection to his sister. No one cared to inquire who the young
prince's envoy and counsellor was, or what his family affairs were.
Enough that he had a sister and an aunt with him, and was conducting
his secret mission with admirable policy and address.
Thus he at length arrived at Tooljapoor alone. The rainy season had
set in, and travelling was no longer pleasant or easy. The town was a
good position for his purpose, and there were many rich families and
landholders in the "Bâlâ Ghaut" province to be brought over. For a
time he secluded himself, and lived humbly in a hired lodging or in
one of the courts of the temple. Here he had seen Gunga, and here also
he daily watched Tara as she and her mother performed their worship.
Even thus early the advantage of marrying his sister to the Shastree,
of whose household circumstances Gunga had told him, had appeared most
desirable; but as his passion for Tara grew, it was a thing to be
accomplished at all hazards. Gunga did not appear able to help him,
for it was clear that neither the Shastree nor his wife noticed the
inferior priestesses of her class, and Tara never spoke to them. He
therefore secured a good house for some months, and sent for his aunt
and Radha from Punderpoor, where he had left them: and, till their
arrival, had busied himself in obtaining local information for the
furtherance of his future designs.
On leaving their home at Wye, and after Radha's first paroxysms of
disappointment were past, Sukya Bye and Moro Trimmul had instructed
the girl what to do. Perhaps, in despair of accomplishing her ends, or
with the desire of all Hindu girls for an early settlement, she was an
apt scholar. Radha was to deny all knowledge of her age, to assume a
childish demeanour, to acquiesce modestly, and as she saw other girls
do, if she were proposed for. She was assured she would be given to
none but a man of wealth--her beauty would secure her this. If possible
he should be young; but this was a difficult point, and what matter if
he were old? She could have jewels, rich clothes, an establishment of
her own--she would have all these secured to her, and afterwards would
be her own mistress.
But if she refused, or opposed these efforts in her behalf, she would
soon be too old to be assisted at all. As it was, few would believe her
to be within the marriageable period for Brahmun girls. In a year, nay
less, her marriage would be impossible, and she must be treated like a
widow, shaven and degraded, or married to a dagger,[4] and turned into
a temple to shift for herself.
Was it wonderful that the girl submitted to, nay, even assisted in,
their deceptions, or that those eyes looked dreamily after her own
prince, while her spirit, chafing within, carried her, in those moments
of abstraction, away into his glorious mountains, to be loved and
caressed as she felt he, and, he only, could love and caress her if she
were with him?
FOOTNOTE:
[4] Female devotees are married to a sword or dagger, as emblematical
of union to the divinity to which they have been devoted.