CHAPTER XI.

THE PARABLE EXPLAINED.

HAVE you not seen, O reader! Goodly trees and lofty palaces faintly reflected on some small stream, whose waters are too muddy to give back their images clearly? Yet can we say, as we gaze downwards, "There is a palace, though I see not its grandeur,—there is a tree, though its beauty I cannot behold."

My tale is even as the little troubled muddy brook in which is dimly reflected what is beauteous and grand. Listen awhile as I try to show you what are the great realities faintly imaged forth in my fable.

Mankind are as the poor helpless child left in the jungle, sick of the foul disease of sin. Even the pure-lived Nanak * was compelled by conscience to cry,—

"Keep me, O my Father, my Lord! I am without virtues; all virtues are Thine!"

* For accounts of Goru (teacher) Nanak, and the poet Kabir, see further on.

And one more enlightened than the great Goru hath written, "All our righteousnesses are as filthy rags."

Thus lying, exposed and helpless, death—even the destruction of the soul, everlasting ruin—steals upon us, as the fearful beast drew nigh to the child. How could man, guilty and hell-deserving, be saved?

Here is the grand mystery of love which the Scriptures declare, even the avatar (incarnation) of the Divine Jesus, the Son of God. He left heaven and assumed a mortal body, that in that body He might suffer and die. He came between man and eternal destruction. The love of the king who encountered a fierce tiger to save a poor child is as nothing compared to the love of the Heavenly King, who won salvation for man by the awful struggle in which He overcame death by dying.

And who is the Farebwala (father of deceit) who seeks to keep us from the knowledge of this love, in order to rob us and make us his slaves?

Behold the spirit of evil, Satan, who would hold all mankind in bondage, and tries to hide from us the knowledge of a Saviour King who is willing to adopt us as His children. To millions of Hindus, he represents heaven as peopled with monsters of iniquity, gods and goddesses so wicked that were they human beings they would be sentenced to death for their crimes!

And what are the mirror and the bracelet hidden by Farebwala under the black cover of Ignorance?

The name of the bracelet is Conscience. It is the precious gift of God; it warns us when danger to the soul, when temptation is near. But is it not too true that the conscience of those who know not the true God has been darkened? When falsehood is spoken, when covetousness is felt, when other sins are indulged in, does the unenlightened conscience give its warning pressure? Reader! Have you not learned to do evil frequently without even knowing that it is evil?

The mirror is the Word of God, the treasure of truth, now to be procured in many of the languages of the East. * Reader! Have you looked into its pages? Let me tell you something of what you would gain by studying the Holy Scriptures with prayer.

* But alas! The people are so poor, that few comparatively ever purchase a complete Bible. In this story, as written for Hindus, I have inserted the Ten Commandments, knowing that perhaps not one in a thousand of those who read my small cheap book will be in possession of the Old Testament.

You would gain KNOWLEDGE OF GOD, what His nature is, and His will. "God is a Spirit, and they that worship Him must worship Him in spirit and in truth" (John iv. 24); "God is light" (1 John i. 5); and "God is love" (1 John iv. 8).

And you would gain KNOWLEDGE OF WHAT GOD REQUIRES OF MAN. Study the commandments, thus summed up in the Gospel, "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind, and thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself" (Matt. xxii. 37-39).

Compare the righteousness of these commandments with the impure stories which the Hindus call by the name of religion. Is it not like comparing a shining river, carrying fertility through the land, to the slimy track left by a serpent? If you see not that the space between the two religions is wider than that which divides heaven from earth, it is because the enemy of your soul has drugged you with Superstition, so that you are unable to say, "Is there not a lie in my right hand?"

It is the Bible, the Mirror of Truth, that shows us that Idolatry is the parent of Vice, and that both are murderers of the soul. It may be, O Hindu! that you are at this moment travelling in the company of these dread Thugs, that this morning you did puja to some idol of brass or stone. This tale is, then, as the warning voice of a friend, of a messenger from the Great King. Have mercy on your own soul! The fatal noose is prepared, thousands have perished by it already; be warned in time. O brother! Flee and live.

But if you be one who already wears the Bracelet of Conscience, if you be one who has gazed into the Mirror of Truth, if your heart be inclined towards your Heavenly King, there is still a word for you. Are you not halting between two opinions, believing but not confessing Christ? Is there not some pride of caste which you are as loth to part with as was Bandhu to give up his janeo? Ties of family are hard to break; do you so shrink from rending them asunder that you would rather hazard your soul than leave all and go to your King?

Ah! Listen to the words of the Lord—"He that loveth father or mother more than Me is not worthy of Me; and he that taketh not his cross, and followeth after Me, is not worthy of Me. Whoever shall confess Me before men, him will I confess also before my Father which is in heaven" (Matt. x. 32, 37, 38).

One other point in the parable may require explanation. What are the leaves of healing that restored peace to the troubled mind, and health to the sick soul? It is the sweet assurance of forgiveness of sins through the death of Christ. He that has found a Saviour has found peace! In the precious words of Holy Writ—"Therefore being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ—and rejoice in hope of the glory of God" (Rom. v. 1, 2).

[Illustration]

GORU NANAK.

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A FEW particulars of the life of Goru Nanak, the founder of the Sikh religion, may not be without interest and novelty to the British reader. As mentioned in the preface, they are chiefly drawn from a short history of the Punjab, and I have thought it better to give the story of a remarkable life in the rough simplicity of the original, so as not to spoil what I may call its Oriental flavour by many words of my own.

Goru Nanak, son of Kálu, a Chhatri, was born in a village of the Punjab, since called after him Nanakana, in the year 1469, when Edward IV. sat on the English throne. At his birth wonderful things were predicted of Nanak, to his father's great delight; but when the child had grown into the lad, Kálu was by no means pleased at the ascetic turn of his son's mind. It must be owned that Nanak gave his parents just cause for vexation. Kálu wished the youth to be a good man of business. Nanak was inclined to take up the life of a wandering fakir. An instance of this disposition is given in the curious little history of the Punjab.

When Nanak was fifteen years old, his father entrusted him with twenty rupees (about £2), and said to him, "O son! Go and buy some good merchandise."

Nanak, accompanied by a servant, set forth on his quest. When he had proceeded some way, he fell in with a company of fakirs (religious beggars), destitute of food and clothing. Pitying their condition, the lad bestowed upon them the twenty rupees, in spite of the expostulations of the servant.

Nanak said in reply to these expostulations, "Oh! What better merchandise can there be than giving food to saints in the name of the Lord?"

Had the money been his own, the remark would have been beautiful, but the youth had no right to be generous with money held only in trust. Nanak returned to his home, and, as might have been expected, received a good flogging from his father.

Though Nanak in due course of time married, and became the father of two sons, family ties did not prevent his adopting the life of a wandering preacher. Nanak, like Socrates and other remarkable heathen, had glimpses of truth, though obscured by a good deal of error. His character appears to have been eminently devout, gentle, and lowly.

In the Granth we find what he thought of himself, and see how in the twilight the Goru was feeling and thirsting after God.

"In what manner shall I meet with the Lord of my life, O Mother? I am without beauty, without intelligence or strength, I, the stranger, have come from afar; I have no wealth, no brilliancy of youth, Effect thou the union of the friendless one. O Lord! I am wandering about, thirsting after Thy sight; By the Lord, who is compassionate and merciful to the poor, My burning heat was quenched, Keep me, O my Father, my Lord! I am without virtues, all virtues are Thine."

Nanak was certainly beyond his age; he did not reverence idols, he acknowledged but one God, and earnestly, by life and example, inculcated purity of morals. We can never place Nanak in the same category with Mahomed, the sensual, the blood-stained founder of Islamism. In speaking of the Goru we cannot, as in the case of the False Prophet, bring forth his evil character as a proof that he could not have been the honoured servant of God. We rather say to the Sikhs, "We respect your Goru; we believe that were he now on earth he would become a Christian." The remark seems to give no offence.

The influence of Nanak was great. It is recorded in his life that he once visited the house of an atrocious villain, whose crimes were aggravated by hypocrisy. This man would lure victims into his retreat, throw them into prison, and then say, "Give up your property or your lives."

Goru Nanak, who knew the character of this ruffian, boldly rebuked his sins, yet tenderly, addressing him as "brother." He told the robber that though his hypocrisy might deceive others, it could not possibly deceive God, to whom all things are known.

The rebuke of the mild Goru, it is said, touched the heart of his hearer. The robber was covered with shame, and falling down at the feet of Nanak, exclaimed, "O true Goru! I am a great sinner, an evil man, but now I repent, and will do such wickedness no more!"

Nanak, on hearing this, laid his hands on the head of the penitent robber, and said, "May God forgive thy sin."

Nanak does not appear to have vehemently opposed idolatry, but how much its power was weakened by his influence is shown in the following story.

A man of the name of Lahiná went with his family to worship a certain goddess at Kangra. Arriving at the place where Nanak happened to be, Lahiná was curious to see so noted a saint, and procured an interview with the Goru.

According to custom, he prostrated himself before Nanak, who courteously inquired his name, and whither he was going. On receiving Lahiná's reply, the Goru said, "Well, brother, go and see the goddess."

But the Hindu had already changed his purpose, and he replied, "O Goru! My heart does not wish to go farther; I care no more for goddess or god; from this time my desire is to remain at your feet."

This was no passing emotion. Lahiná became Nanak's devoted follower, and afterwards his successor to the dignity of Goruship under the new name of Angad. This office of spiritual sovereign was passed on from one leader to another by a ceremony amusing from its simplicity. The reigning Goru having chosen his successor, presented him with—no jewelled crown nor sceptre of gold, but a cocoa-nut and five coppers! He then was the first to prostrate himself before the Goru to be. The Goruship was, as we here see, not hereditary; Nanak himself set the example of preferring the claim of devoted service to the tie of blood. The circumstances which influenced his choice gave an amusing glimpse into the domestic circle of the great Goru.

Nanak had two sons, named Sirichand and Lahmidás. Whatever other good qualities Nanak may have possessed, he does not appear to have possessed wisdom and firmness to manage his children judiciously. We cannot but suspect that the worthy man had been a spoiling father.

Once on a day, so goes the story, the Goru on his travels fell into a bog. He called out to Sirichand for help to get him out of his trouble.

"O father!" replied the youth. "My clothes are very nice, and they would be spoiled; I will go and send some one else to your help."

The poor Goru, floundering in the mud, made an appeal to his younger son, and from the ungrateful lad received a similar reply.

Lahiná, seeing his master's distress, joining his hands together in sign of reverence, cried, "O true Goru! What is your command?"

"To be taken out of this bog," answered Nanak.

Lahiná, less afraid that were the young Hindu fops of spoiling his clothes, plunged into the mud at once, and extricated his master.

Nanak never forgot this trait of affection; perhaps from that day the idea of elevating Lahiná to the Goruship entered his mind. He afterwards severely tested Lahiná's love and obedience, and found them firm in every trial. Nanak's heart was touched, and he warmly returned the love of his servant.

When asked one day why he showed more affection to Lahiná than to his own sons, his answer (freely translated) was as follows:—"Though Lahiná is not of my blood yet he never neglects my commands; but those who are called my sons never fulfil them. My love is for him who serves me, heart and soul."

One day, in the presence of an assembly of his Sikhs, Nanak placed before Lahiná the cocoa-nut and five coppers, which were the symbol of succession to the office of Goru. Nanak was then the first to prostrate himself before his disciple, after which, rising, he thus addressed the assembly:

"O brother Sikhs! From this day I give to him the office of Goru. Let every disciple of mine, prostrating himself, acknowledge him as such."

Nanak then changed the name of Lahiná, commanding that he should from thenceforth be known as Goru Angad.

Angad was thus the second of the ten Gorus who reigned in succession over the Sikhs. They were treated with such adoring reverence as man should render to the Supreme Being alone. To the Sikh his Goru stood almost in the place of his God. The first Gorus, however, appear to have been meek and gentle-spirited men.

The following anecdote is characteristic, and shows that though the sons of Goru Nanak were not permitted by their father to inherit his spiritual dignity, they were yet treated with great respect for his sake.

The fourth Goru, Rámdas, was once in the company of Sirichand, he who, in his youth, had preferred keeping his fine clothes unspotted to helping his father out of the bog. It might be expected that some jealousy would arise in the heart of Sirichand, seeing thus a third Goru in the position to which, from his birth, he might naturally have aspired. The conversation between the two men is curious.

Beholding the long beard of Goru Rámdas, the son of Nanak said, "O Rámdas Ji! Wherefore has your beard grown so long?"

Rámdas, with Oriental courtesy, replied, "O true king! It has grown long in order to wipe the dust from your feet!"

Nanak's son exclaimed, with generous admiration of the ruler's humility, "Brother, showing such love, you have obtained power to hold the Goruship, and we, who were sons, remain free from envy."

I cannot refrain from adding the story of this Rámdas's elevation to the Goruship, it being one of those pleasing anecdotes which soften the hard, dry lines of history.

At an early age Rámdas had married the little daughter of the third Goru, Amrdás. The youthful wife and her husband took pleasure in rendering any act of menial service to her father the Goru. One day her parent, seated on a chair, was performing his ablutions, his daughter pouring water over his feet, when accidently a nail of the chair ran into the poor girl's foot. Instead of starting or crying out with the sudden pain, the Goru's daughter thought to herself, "If I lift my foot, my father, seeing my blood, will forget his ablutions;" so, with rare fortitude, the young Sikh did not change her position.

The blood from her wounded foot, however, trickling from under the seat, attracted the Goru's attention. "Daughter!" he cried, "from whence does this blood come?"

In the simple words of the native narrator, "the girl, not thinking it right to tell lies, on her father's asking her again and again, told him the truth."

The father, deeply touched by his child's loving reverence, tenderly kissed her, and said, "I have nothing else now to bestow on you, but from this day forth I present you with the Goruship."

The offer tells more of parental affection than of wisdom, for a female Goru would have been somewhat analogous to a female Pope. Happily the daughter showed more sense than her parent. The young Sikh shrank back from the strange post of spiritual leadership to which her father's love would have raised her.

Joining her hands, she cried, "O true Goru, my father! Give this dignity to my husband!"

Amrdás saw the propriety of the request, and Rámdas, through this dutiful daughter and wife, was raised to the leadership of the Sikhs.

The Sikh religion is far purer than that of the Hindus, but has unhappily become much corrupted by its professors mingling with the idolaters around them. I have heard an enthusiastic Sikh complaining of the idolatry carried on even in the precincts of the famous centre of Sikh worship, the Golden Temple of Amritsar.

The Sikhs give one the impression of their being a bold, cheerful, kindly people, who would be (as we proved them to be) formidable foes in war, but frank friends in peace. In the Sikh campaigns they almost shook our Indian Empire, but not long afterwards, in the more terrible Indian Mutiny, our late foes stood faithfully by us.

I once asked an experienced missionary, "If you were in danger in a mixed crowd of Mahomedans, Hindus, and Sikhs, to which of the three would you look for help?"

"I would cling to the arm of the Sikh," was the reply; and it pleased me as showing that my friend's riper judgment coincided with my own. It appears to me that the Sikh is more friendly than the Mahomedan, more manly than the Hindu.

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KABIR.

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A LITTLE of Kabir's poetry having been quoted in "The Mirror and the Bracelet," a few particulars regarding the author himself may not be out of place.

Kabir, a weaver by trade, born of Mahomedan parents, lived in the fifteenth century. His poetry is therefore very much older than that of Spencer or Shakespeare. Portions of the writings of this ancient poet have been incorporated in the Granth, and from their sarcastic humour, form to an English reader one of the most attractive parts. Dr. Trumpp remarks that "Kabir the weaver is to be regarded as the author of the whole reformatory movement going on in India during the Middle Ages." There is still a sect bearing the name of this very remarkable man.

How little Kabir the weaver was influenced by either Hindu superstitions or Mahomedan traditions is shown by the following extraordinary poem, in which he ridicules alike the sacred books of both:—

"Thou shouldst ride on thy own reflection! Thou shouldst put foot into the stirrup of tranquillity, Apply the nose-ring, put on the bridle, All decoration, and make (it) run about in the sky. Go on, I will take thee to Paradise. If thou draw back I will strike thee with the whip of love. Kabir says these are good riders Who keep aloof from the Veda * and the Koran."

* The Vedas are the Scriptures of the Hindu, the Koran (or Quran) those of the Mahomedans. Kabir would have men keep clear of both.

Some other extracts from this Oriental poet appear worthy of being placed before English readers who are not likely to obtain a sight of Dr. Trumpp's voluminous and learned translation of the book so dear to the Sikhs.

In most quaint language Kabir thus expresses a very deep truth:—

"By the saints the butter is eaten, the world drinks the buttermilk."

A Christian might have written the following verse:—

"The saints have died; why should weeping be made that they go to their home The stars at dawn pass away, so the world passes away."

Like Goru Nanak, in his writings the gifted weaver expresses deep humility:—

"Every one says (I am) good, good: no one considers (himself) bad. Kabir says, I am the worst of all; every one is good except me. Who considers himself in this light, he is my friend."

With playful irony the poet says to some Oriental fop:—

"On which head (thou art) arranging and fastening a turban, That head the bill of the crow will dress."

Then the light but keen edge of his wit strikes the hoarder of wealth:—

"To the miser wealth is given for the sake of keeping it, The fool says 'The property is mine.' When the staff of Zama (death) is struck on his head, The matter is decided in a moment."

Thus Kabir writes of the Mahomedan's loud formal call to prayer:—

"O Mullah! why ascendest thou the minaret? The Lord is not deaf. For whose sake thou makest the call, behold him even in (thy) heart."

Superstition and idolatry are boldly rebuked by Kabir:—

"Some one does not obey his living father, When he dies he causes a Shradh to be said for him. How shall the helpless defunct fathers also obtain (the offering), The crow and the dog eat it."

"Having made a Devi Deva (images) of earth, Thou sacrificest before them an animal. An animate being they slaughter, and worship a lifeless thing."

"The gardener breaks off leaves (to offer to an idol), in the leaves, in the leaves—life, The stone, for the sake of which he breaks off the leaves, is lifeless."

May it not be desirable for the Christian missionary addressing a heathen audience, to arrest attention by an occasional apt quotation from the writings of Kabir the weaver?

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A SON OF HEALING.

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