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which the central peak is that to which our pilgrimage is directed. Striking north-westward, we enter the Mawul of the Baun-Gunga river. This river

rises in the southern slopes of the Trimbuk range, and is a remarkable exception to almost all the rivers above the Ghauts, in this respect, that it flows towards instead of away from the edge of the Sahyadri mountains, and, falling into the Konkun, swells the Veturunee or Wyturnee river, which empties itself into the estuary of the Taunsa, and then into the sea, ten miles north of Bassein.

The cluster of hills before us is composed, we said, of three principal eminences that to the left, the highest of the three, is the Hill-fort of Hursch; the great central mass, flanked by strange spurs of basalt, is the Hill-fort of Trimbuk; and the great flat-topped mountain on the right is the betterknown hill of Unjinere; on a wooded shelf of which, near the summit, lies the beautiful sanitarium of the Nassick Missionaries, whose cool and comfortable little bungalows, over-shadowed by wide-spreading trees, stand in their gardens around the margin of the Tarn, which reflects on its calm surface their white and trellised walls, nestling under the great sheltering mountain which rises behind them.

Between this mountain, in whose bosom so lovely and retired an abode of Christian Missionaries lies hidden, and the great mass of Trimbuk, there is a deep gorge, the sides of which are in some places nearly perpendicular,-typical, one might say, of the great chasm of thought and feeling which separates Christianity from Hin

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The highest point of the fort has been ascertained to be 4,254 feet above the sea; the lines of fortification are about 200 feet lower. These consist simply of a wall, bastioned at intervals, on prominent points, running round the hill immediately above the great scarp, a circuit of about five miles, and entered by two gates, one on the north, the other to the south-east.

The fort is now uninhabited, except by a few villagers, and the attendants at the little temple over the source of the Godavery, which is behind the upper part of the fort, to the west. The most remarkable features of the hill of Trimbuk are the spurs, which extend nearly round the little valley; along which, at intervals, stand great detached pillars of rock, like screens for the sacred hollow where the Temple of Trimbukeshwur is seen.

At the foot of the easternmost spur, and at the entrance of the valley, we pass the village of Pengulwaree, whose brilliantly painted temples betray an appearance of recent colouring, now unusual, except in the very hot-beds of "dhurum."

The avenues towards Trimbukeshwur are planted and paved, and bear many traces of the crowds which yearly pass to and from the temples. A high wall surrounds the court in which the principal temple stands, pierced, on the north face, with a pointed arched gateway, which is surmounted by a lofty "nagarkhana," or music gallery. Projecting from this, a balcony hangs over the doorway, and through the windows of the balcony, grinned the faces, young and old, of numerous members of the most degraded class connected with the idol-worship-the "wajintree" or musicians.

Alarmed at the unusual spectacle of a European in the neighbourhood of the holy precincts, the Brahmins, who clustered round the door, piously shut it, and sent for the Mahalkuree. When this functionary arrived, in the form of a fat and important Brahmin, in flowing angrika of purple silk lined with yellow, and scarlet trimmings, he graciously permitted us to mount a flight of steps which led up on one side to the nagarkhana; and from thence to take as careful a survey as we pleased of

the sacred enclosure. The scene was melancholy, but impressive.

Here was the very sanctuary of Mahratta Brahminism. In the centre of the spacious rectangular court, rises one of the largest and most elaborately carved temples to be seen on this side of India. One corner of the court is occupied by a walled tank; while here and there, the smooth pavement is dotted by trees in their stone-built platforms; and lounging about in the sun, or reposing in the shade, were many priests, sadhoos, gosavees, and other holy folk, some in snowy angrika, salmon dhotur, and crimson turban; others destitute of any clothing than that which nature supplies, assisted by a gund of sandalwood ashes, or a coating of devotional dirt. Several large "linga," which seemed to have retired from business, were laid near the pediment of the temple; and about the doors, numbers of Brahmins were sitting in the shade of the "mandup," or, as it is pronounced, "mundoop," who were listening, or had been listening, to a "kutha," in which, no doubt, among the achievements of the gods, political allusions to the white sons of the monkey were largely mingled. It was not the season of a jathra; but during a short time of observation, many pilgrims performed the ceremony of “durshun" or "glimpse," as announced by the soft and clear note of the temple bell, which is rung whenever the attention of the god is to be called to a prostrate worshipper. From the dark portals, a muttering or sing-song sound proceeded, echoing around the court; and a faint smell of incense, mingling with that of the chumpaka flower, combined to produce an impression, which deepened into a new and depressing conviction of the terrible reality and vitality of the most degrading superstition that ever ground into the dust the life and freedom of a great nation.

The temple itself is perhaps worthy of a more detailed description. It was built by Bajee Rao, on the site of an older but much humbler edifice. Before its doors stand gigantic "deepmals," or pillars furnished with a multitude of branched brackets, on which the lights at the Dewallee festival are placed. Nearer

to the temple door, under a light and elegantly carved stone pavilion, the roof of which is fretted with ornament, rests the great bull. Nundi is the inseparable companion, and vehicle or "wahan," of Mahadeo, and the unmistakable sign of temples erected to that most popular divinity. Black, smooth, and shining with unctuous caresses, adorned himself with marks of divine honours, this great bull, in all the dignity of trappings carved in basalt, for ever turns his face towards his powerful patron. A square "mandup," or "pronaos," of massive proportions, having a door in each face, stands in front of the great tower, which contains the object of worship. Porches, with separate roofs, but the same entablature and cornice as the mandup, stand out from it; the doorways of which are richly ornamented with cusped arches, upon carved jambs, supporting the strongly projecting entablature; above which, round both the porches and mandup, runs a double cornice and frieze, sculptured with elaborate minuteness.

The roofs, formed of slabs, rising in steps from the architraves, are curvilinear externally; and each supports a discoid termination, the shape of which in every case is related to that of the dome which it surmounts. Above that, the lotus-like finial gives what grace it may to the flattened domes of these ponderous structures. The great tower of the temple, covering the adytum, rises behind the mandup. It is, on the ground-plan, what is called a "broken square," heavily and thickly buttressed. An excessive solidity of appearance is given by the form of the buttresses, which spread at the base, and seem to root the whole building to the ground, like some great pimpul-tree. The face of every buttress is niched, and every niche is filled with carved figures : representations of men and animals, with flowers and scroll-work, are crowded everywhere, and the far-projecting entablature, and deep cornices, cast their strong shadows, and add to the rich and massive appearance of the whole. Above the cornice, rise numerous spirelets, of the same shape and proportions as the great spire, or shikur,” the conical layers of which are each

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surmounted with a carved ornament; and, rising to a great height, the shikur itself, crowned with a terminal of proportioned size, supports a brightly gilt kullus, pointing its glittering flame towards the sky.

On one side of the kullus rises a pole, with a cross-tree, suspended to which, lazily floats a large forked pennant, of uncertain hue, but probably tinted with some modification of the russet orange which is the national colour of the country of the Mahrattas. This is a brief description of the tall temple which covers the "lingam" of the great Trimbukeshwur, or "Mahadeo with Three Eyes"; and round this imposing shrine, so dense a multitude has now assembled, that whatever their ceremonial purification, their actual defilement, from bad air and bad water, and probably bad food, has again fostered into deadly activity that awful enemy who is ever in India lurking in "the dark places."

Sweet are the waves of the Godavery, or, as her worshippers reverentially style her, "Guuga." But near her source, within a few yards of Trimbukeshwur himself, there is an especially sacred reservoir of her newborn waters. Round it are built colonnades and ghauts; and to this particular spot especial religious advantages are supposed to belong. Consequently, dirt from the furthest confines of India is washed off into it: Sindh sand, Peshawur dust, Madras loam, Calcutta mud, and every variety of the material of mother earth which cleaves to the bodies of her loving children, finds its way, together with animal accretions entirely their own, into this holy pool. With a whisp of koosha grass, to stir the stinking fluid round him, the dirty devotee descends into it, to wash, and drink, in company with thousands, daily at this season; in the hope of washing away moral defilements by immersion in this physical filth. In a dry season like this, the amount of water in it is very small; and, in plain English, the holy Kooshaverut becomes an abominable sink!

Returning from its purifications to the squalid accommodation such a place as the pettah can afford, huddled together all night in a rotting mass, dreading

VOL. I.-55

nothing but the terrible "warrah,' from the dire influence of which they most carefully guard,-what can we expect for the ignorant and devoted crowds of pilgrims to Trimbuk? What, indeed, is to be said for the pilgrimage system generally? To say nothing of the enormous loss of time, money, and character involved in it, looking at it as producing and spreading over the country the most malignant pestilences, we seriously ask, is it not time that some measures should be conceived for discountenancing one of the most prolific causes of immorality, as well as disease, with which this country is afflicted?—or, at least, of demanding from those who profit by this evil custom, that they should do whatever can be done to moderate its effects? The fees taken from pilgrims by the Brahmins of Trimbuk are abundantly sufficient to drain the Kooshaverut, build new dhurumshalas, and ventilate the old ones; to say nothing of other sanatory arrangements, which might render the wrath of "Murreeless inevitable at succeeding

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jathras.

NOTICES OF NEW BOOKS.

(From the Oriental Budget of Literature.)

Lives of the Archbishops of Canterbury: from the Mission of Augustine to the Death of Howley. By W. F. HOOK, D.D., Dean of Chichester. Vol. I. The Anglo-Saxon Period. 15s. (Bentley.) The spirit of this book is just what we should have expected from the author-free-catholic-masculine. There is no littleness of party, or bigoted one-sidedness of sentiment. Dr. Hook is not afraid to say what he thinks, and he succeeds in conveying to us the decided impression that he thinks what he says. He seems to come to his task in a fair and truth-telling spirit, determined, if he finds a weak point in the character of any of his favourite archbishops, not to mince matters, but to speak it out; and the honesty and earnestness of his composition will not fail to commend the book to all candid readers. We have here none of the

sickly and truth-shunning sentimentalism, which produced some years ago the lives of S. Stephen and S. Richard, nor of the audacious treatment of Dr. Newman, who used to

*The "Wind"-which, wherever it blows

from, the Natives think, blows ill to them!

divine or demoniacal hag who turns men blue, +Murree-aie"-" Mother Cholera"; the and then kills them.

say that miracles were "the sort of facts proper to ecclesiastical history." Miracles Dr. Hook discards utterly and entirely, and though they abound pretty thickly in the authorities on which his work is based, he does not hesitate to characterise them as impostures and lies. The style of this book, though not free from blemishes, and occasionally verging on the ungrammatical, is, upon the whole, vivid and energetic. The Anglo-Saxon period is essentially a dull one, and needs every adventitious help to make a book which treats of it readable. Dr. Hook has laboured to provide this, and, upon the whole, we think has succeeded. Put side by side with the wonderfully-graphic touches of Thierry, the 'Lives of the Archbishops' read heavy and dull, but they are far superior to some other attempts which have been made to animate the dry bones of our Anglo-Saxon ancestors, and to give us a distinct notion of those most obscure times. In the inimitable characters of Ivanhoe, indeed, we seem to be able to grasp something tangible and life-like, but we have the great authority of Palgrave for saying that the Saxon descriptions there are altogether false. "Language, characters, incidents, manners, thoughts, are out of time, out of place, out of season, out of reason, ideal or impossible. When on the waters of the gentle Don there glided the Swan with two Necks; then Gurth with the brass collar soldered round his one, so tight as to be incapable of being removed, excepting by the use of the file, tended swine in the woodlands of Rotheram."* Hence we may not wonder if the work of a less cunning manipulator, and one also which is straitened by the stern necessities of fact, is somewhat dry. But the peculiarities of the times and manners with which it is conversant is not the only cause of this. The method of the book, its fundamental plan and principle, is, in our opinion, faulty: Dr. Hook informs us (page 2), that he has long held that the proper way of writing church history is by biographies of primates. We cannot at all agree with him. The deeds of a king are not the history of a nation, nor the acts and opinions of an archbishop the picture of a church. History is doubtless written most easily in this way, but not most truly. In proportion as we can get away from great overwhelming figures, into the quiet nooks of the daily life of the unchronicled people, we must faithfully recall a period in the way in which we should be cognisant of it, if we had actually observed it ourselves. If, indeed, the great figures have very striking and commanding attributes-if their actions have been such as to leave an impress on their generation, or their characters so attractive as to be a moving power in all time-by all means let us have their biographies studied out as closely as it is possible to elaborate them. But this is not history, but a distinct subject-matter. When, however, the figures are great, merely because they have a great title, it is lost labour to

*Sir F. Palgrave, Preface to History of Normandy."

spend pains upon them. A considerable part of the archbishops whose names figure in this volume have no real connection with the history of the church. They are mere lay figures, and unknown quantities. It is scarce worth while to record their names, save to gratify the lovers of visible succession, still less worth while was it to spend a fruitless labour in trying to construct for them a history. Of one we are told that nothing occurred to make memorable his brief occupancy of the see" (p. 206). Then why put him among those whose lives are professed to be given? Of another, who occupied the see for thirty-seven years (Brihtwald), there is only one event to record (p. 192), which seems a slender foundation to base a life upon.

Many other lives in the list are absolutely without character or incident. They only serve to cumber the volume, and to make one puzzle one's brains by excogitating why a man should have his life written merely because he was Archbishop of Canterbury. But there are other graver inconveniences than this arising from the plan of the book. In order to satisfy the requirement of breaking up the history into the lives of insignificant archbishops, the really great and striking biographies of the period are marred and hampered. Thus, the rich poetry of the life of Paulinus is broken and dulled by being divided between Justus and Honorius ; and the very striking memoir and character of Wilfrid is given piecemeal in the lives of Deus-dedit, Theodore, and Brihtwald. It may be urged that there would be nothing to say of the archbishops without borrowing from their great contemporaries; for that very reason we think it would have been better to have omitted the archbishops, and given the great men's lives entire. When Dr. Hook is not hampered with an impossible archbishop -when the direct subject of his memoir happens to be a great man, of whom there is something to say (as in the case of Dunstan), we see what he can do. The life of Dunstan is beautifully written, and the extra care, easily discernible in the style of its composition, shows that it was a congenial labour, after so many dry and uninteresting subjects, for his pen. We must, however, take leave to quarrel with his treatment of Dunstan's character, and we cannot but think he has somewhat coloured the well-known facts of his life, when he allows even more than qualified praise to one whom Dean Milman justly characterises as one of the most odious of mankind." It is natural to look up to Gregory, the originator of the Anglo-Saxon mission, with gratitude and reverence; yet we hardly expected to find especial credit claimed for him as being kind and charitable" (p. 76), when we know that he refused the Eucharist to those who differed from him, even when they were dying for the sake of Christ's religion. Dr. Hook has also entirely suppressed the fact that Gregory obtained a passage for his timid band of missionaries through France by decidedly

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* Lat. Christianity, vol. iii. p. 115.

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false representations to the Frankish princes. Augustine is unhesitatingly sacrificed to shield Gregory (p. 65); but when we come to the great trial of Augustine's character, in which he was, without doubt, guilty of gross imposture, it is then Bede who is unhesitatingly stigmatised as the author of a Canterbury Tale' (p. 69). In fact, the difficult character of Augustine is inconsistently treated. Dr. Hook speaks of his "many virtues," yet he can only redeem him from imposture by a violent and unsupported assertion (p. 69); he allows him to be haughty and arrogant (p. 741), violent and passionate (p. 73), weak and puerile (pp. 75-6). He asserts that the charge that the Italian bishop was in any way responsible for the massacre of the monks of Bangor is met by "invincible difficulties of chronology," but he does not say what these are. Meantime, all the best critics are agreed that the words in Bede's narrative which speak of Augustine's previous death are an interpolation" He lived at least a year after," says Thierry.* We notice a slight error into which Dr. Hook has fallen, in company with Dr. Giles and Archdeacon Churton. He says, P. 112,"

At Southwell, Paulinus preached with much success." The Tiovulfingacester of Bede could not have been Southwell, which was never within the province of Lindisse, where the Saxon chronicle says the baptism took place, nor upon the Trent, in which stream it was celebrated. The place indicated is now pretty clearly ascertained to be Torksey, on the Trent, and the nearest point on that river to Lincoln. It would occupy too much space to point out all the striking passages and curious facts contained in this valuable work, but we would specially indicate the very interesting account of the Canterbury Library, now first made known out of Thomas of Elmham (p. 165), the curious details of the state of slavery among the Saxons, and the astonishing description of their monasteries (p. 226). It is, perhaps, rather overdoing the matter to speak of Canterbury as the Athens of England (p. 195), and to dwell upon its " literary society"; but these graphic touches, which are not rare in this volume, do much towards recommending to us the dry details, which, from what we consider the faulty plan adopted, necessarily occupy much of its space.

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the free, frank, easy-going Muse, that converses with Evelyn, or prattles with Pepys. The dullest book of autobiography that was ever issued has a certain uncertain charm about it which is sure to attract readers, while a really good life-picture is something which we seldom get, but which, when we get, we place on the sacred shelf" of our libraries. Among Personal Memoirs, the autobiography of a clergyman has, naturally, many special attractions. He mixes with life in all its phases, and has many precious opportunities of seeing the mind when freed from the swathings of conventionality-the mind when moving nudely and without restraint. The Autobiography of Dr. Carlyle is one of the pleasantest books we have read for a long time. It is as fresh as mountain heather, and as warmly, yet chastely, coloured. The life of the old clergyman is brimful of incident. He saw the battle of Prestonpans, and had many a peep at bonnie Prince Charlie. Alexander Carlyle was the son of the minister of Prestonpans, and came of an ancient and respectable Scotch family. After a very decent education at home, he went, in due course, to the University of Edinburgh, and, while there, made the acquaintance of Robertson and the author of Douglas.' He remained for a time at Edinburgh, and then found it necessary to choose a profession. He "elected" the Church, and, leaving Auld Reekie, proceeded to Glasgow, where he died divinity. From Glasgow he set out, at the age of twenty-three, for Leyden, in order to complete his studies, travelling southward, by way of Newcastle, to Yarmouth. He returned from Leyden to be presented to the church of Cockburn's-Path, and, subsequently, to that of Inveresk. Here the greater portion of his after-life was passed, although he made several visits to Edinburgh, and interested himself (shocking clergyman, as the people must have thought him!) in the success of Home's Douglas. In 1758 he came to London, where he again fell in with Robertson, who was then busy with his gorgeous history. The pair presently tumbled over Home, and then the three had a right jovial time of it. They visited Garrick, and passed a day at his house, amusing themselves with the game of " Golf," in which the Doctor shone. From London they moved to Portsmouth, where they saw Lord Bute. They almost saw the 'Royal George,' but being on board another ship, were entertained with white wine and salt-beef by one of the officers who (these Scotchmen always find a relative) happened to be Robertson's cousin. Dr. Carlyle returned to Scotland "by way of Oxford and Birmingham." The ride through England is told with great spirit, and with an absence of egotism truly delightful in a North Briton. It is one of the simplest, sunniest bits of writing in the English language. In 1760 the Doctor was married, the union proving in every respect happy. After "settling down" as a married man, there was another flying visit to London, when interviews were had with several statesmen on important businesses connected with the Scotch Church. The Doctor's life of real,

Autobiography of the Rev. Dr. Alexander Carlyle, Minister of Inveresh: containing Memorials of the Men and Events of his Time. 14s. (Blackwood & Sons.) To every thoughtful man, the life of even an ordinary individual is of no small value; and when an active, intelligent" worker" bequeaths the" days and yesterdays with which he built" to posterity, the narrative, if properly put together, must be of lively and permanent interest. The best part of history-the best, because the most agreeable to read and the most useful to remember-is that which is sketched and shadowed in the diaries and note-books of the eminent or observant personages of a period. It is here we find History in common dress

Hist. Conquête d'Angleterre,' vol. i.

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