ungenerous and prejudiced. The Hindu desire of eternal life, the acknowledgment of man's sinfulness, the efficacy of atonement for sin, their inveterate idea of a divine incarnation and the merits of sacrifice, should not be ignored, while all that is ludicrous and hideous in the religion of the Hindu people is put forward as its unredeeming feature."—Indo-European Correspondence, 1877.
"Mr. F. S. Growse, C.S., continues his translation of Tulsi Dás's version of the Rámáyana, and has just published the Second Book (Ayodhyá) of that popular poem………We frankly own to prejudice when we say that in spite of the lofty thoughts and principles which are embodied throughout the poem, and in spite of Mr. Growse's wonderful combination of a pure English style and idiom with fidelity to the text of the original, we seem, as we read through the long string of dohas and chaupais, to hear the nasal drone of the Hindu minstrel and the wearisome beat of the tom-tom. It is prejudice, too, we fear, that throws a colouring of exaggeration over the expression of feelings on the part of the men, and somewhat of a whining querulous tone over those of the women. Mr. Growse, however, disarms, or at all events deprecates, this kind of prejudice. 'The constant repetition,' he says, 'of a few stereotyped phrases, such as 'lotus feet,' 'streaming eyes,' and 'quivering frame' (a phrase which, he says, was rendered by a Calcutta Munshi, horripilation, which word he greatly admired on account of its six syllables), though they find a parallel in the stock epithets of the Homeric poem, are irritating to modern European taste.' We think the learned translator would be justified in saying 'prejudice' (taste and prejudice are much akin), for there are phrases in the Bible—in the Song of Solomon for instance,—which would strike us as irritating as the Hindu poet's, bad we not been accustomed to the former from our childhood.
"Prejudice and taste apart, the great value of Mr. Growse's translation to English readers lies in the insight it gives us into the feelings of the mysterious Hindu people, amọng whom so many of us live for years without fathoming the depths of the national mind and heart. Of the pathetic parts of Tulsi Dás's poem —precisely those which an English reader would feel inclined to skip—Mr. Growse says that when publicly recited 'there is scarcely one of the audience who will not be moved to tears'. It certainly is a great service to put before us in good English the sterling equivalent of what touches the hearts of men who seem to us to have no hearts at all. We often hear it said of the people of this country that when they congregate, their talk is mostly about bhát and paisa—rice and pence. The most popular of Hindu ballads has been composed—so says Tulsi Dás in his epilogue—'for the bestowal of pure wisdom and continence;' and it would be sheer prejudice to deny that the tale which it tells of noble and heroic qualities has not justified the epilogue. Yet this is the poem which has the strongest hold on the people of Upper India!"—Indo-European Correspondence, 1878.
