CHAPTER III.

THE GODLINGS OF DISEASE.

Kai gar toisi kakon chrysothronos Artemis ôrsen

Chôsamenê ho oi outi thalysia gounô alôês

Oineus rhex.

Iliad ix. 533-535.

We now come to consider a class of rural godlings, the deities who

control disease.

The Demoniacal Theory of Disease.

It is a commonplace of folk-lore and the beliefs of all savage

races that disease and death are not the result of natural causes,

but are the work of devils and demons, witchcraft, the Evil Eye,

and so forth. It is not difficult to understand the basis on which

beliefs of this class depend. There are certain varieties of disease,

such as hysteria, dementia, epilepsy, convulsions, the delirium of

fever, which in the rural mind indicate the actual working of an evil

spirit which has attacked the patient. There are, again, others, such

as cholera, which are so sudden and unexpected, so irregular in their

appearances, so capricious in the victims which they select, that they

naturally suggest the idea that they are caused by demons. Even to

this day the belief in the origin of disease from spirit possession

is still common in rural England. Fits, the falling sickness, ague,

cramp, warts, are all believed to be caused by a spirit entering the

body of the patient. Hence comes the idea that the spirit which is

working the mischief can be scared by a charm or by the exorcism of

a sorcerer. They say to the ague, "Ague! farewell till we meet in

hell," and to the cramp, "Cramp! be thou faultless, as Our Lady was

when she bore Jesus."

It is needless to say that the same theory flourishes in rural

India. Thus, in Râjputâna, [282] sickness is popularly attributed to

Khor, or the agency of the offended spirits of deceased relations,

and for treatment they call in a "cunning man," who propitiates the

Khor by offering sweetmeats, milk, and similar things, and gives burnt

ash and black pepper sanctified by charms to the patient. The Mahadeo

Kolis of Ahmadnagar believe that every malady or disease that seizes

man, woman, child, or cattle is caused either by an evil spirit or

by an angry god. The Bijapur Vaddars have a yearly feast to their

ancestors to prevent the dead bringing sickness into the house. [283]

Further east in North Bhutan all diseases are supposed to be due to

possession, and the only treatment is by the use of exorcisms. Among

the Gâros, when a man sickens the priest asks which god has done

it. The Kukis and Khândhs believe that all sickness is caused by a

god or by an offended ancestor. [284]

So among the jungle tribes of Mirzapur, the Korwas believe that all

disease is caused by the displeasure of the Deohâr, or the collective

village godlings. These deities sometimes become displeased for

no apparent reason, sometimes because their accustomed worship is

neglected, and sometimes through the malignity of some witch. The

special diseases which are attributed to the displeasure of these

godlings are fever, diarrhoea and cough. If small-pox comes of its

own accord in the ordinary form, it is harmless, but a more dangerous

variety is attributed to the anger of the local deities. Cholera

and fever are regarded as generally the work of some special Bhût or

angry ghost. The Kharwârs believe that disease is due to the Baiga not

having paid proper attention to Râja Chandol and the other tutelary

godlings of the village. The Pankas think that disease comes in

various ways--sometimes through ghosts or witches, sometimes because

the godlings and deceased ancestors were not suitably propitiated. All

these people believe that in the blazing days of the Indian summer

the goddess Devî flies through the air and strikes any child which

wears a red garment. The result is the symptoms which less imaginative

people call sunstroke. Instances of similar beliefs drawn from the

superstitions of the lower races all over the country might be almost

indefinitely extended. Even in our own prayers for the sick we pray the

Father "to renew whatsoever has been decayed by the fraud and malice

of the Devil, or by the carnal will and frailness" of the patient.

Leprosy is a disease which is specially regarded as a punishment for

sin, and a Hindu affected by this disease remains an outcast until he

can afford to undertake a purificatory ceremony. Even lesser ailments

are often attributed to the wrath of some offended god or saint. Thus,

in Satâra, the King Sateswar asked the saint Sumitra for water. The

sage was wrapped in contemplation, and did not answer him. So the

angry monarch took some lice from the ground and threw them at the

saint, who cursed the King with vermin all over his body. He endured

the affliction for twelve years, until he was cured by ablution at

the sacred fountain of Devrâshta. [285] As we shall see, the Bengâlis

have a special deity who rules the itch.

From ideas of this kind the next stage is the actual impersonation of

the deity who brings disease, and hence the troop of disease godlings

which are worshipped all over India, and to whose propitiation much

of the thoughts of the peasant are devoted.

Sîtalâ, the Goddess of Small-pox.

Of these deities the most familiar is Sîtalâ, "she that loves the

cool," so called euphemistically in consequence of the fever which

accompanies small-pox, the chief infant plague of India, which is under

her control. Sîtalâ has other euphemistic names. She is called Mâtâ,

"the Mother" par excellence; Jag Rânî, "the queen of the world;"

Phapholewâlî, "she of the vesicle;" Kalejewâlî, "she who attacks the

liver," which is to the rustic the seat of all disease. Some call

her Mahâ Mâî, "the great Mother." These euphemistic titles for the

deities of terror are common to all the mythologies. The Greeks of old

called the awful Erinyes, the Eumenides, "the well-meaning." So the

modern Greeks picture the small-pox as a woman, the enemy of children,

and call her Sunchoremene, "indulgent," or "exorable," and Eulogia,

"one to be praised or blessed;" and the Celts call the fairies "the

men of peace" and "the good people," or "good neighbours." [286]

In her original form as a village goddess she has seldom a special

priest or a regular temple. A few fetish stones, tended by some

low-class menial, constitute her shrine. As she comes to be promoted

into some form of Kâlî or Devî, she is provided with an orthodox

shrine. She receives little or no respect from men, but women and

children attend her service in large numbers on "Sîtalâ's seventh,"

Sîtalâ Kî Saptamî, which is her feast day. In Bengal she is worshipped

on a piece of ground marked out and smeared with cow-dung. A fire

being lighted, and butter and spirits thrown upon it, the worshipper

makes obeisance, bowing his forehead to the ground and muttering

incantations. A hog is then sacrificed, and the bones and offal being

burnt, the flesh is roasted and eaten, but no one must take home with

him any scrap of the victim. [287]

Two special shrines of Sîtalâ in Upper India may be specially referred

to. That at Kankhal near Hardwâr has a curious legend, which admirably

illustrates the catholicity of Hinduism. Here the local Sîtalâ has

the special title of Turkin, or "the Muhammadan lady." There was once

a princess born to one of the Mughal Emperors, who, according to the

traditions of the dynasty, when many of the chief ladies of the harem

were of Hindu birth, had a warm sympathy for her ancestral faith. So

she made a pilgrimage to Hardwâr, and thence set off to visit the holy

shrines situated in the upper course of the Ganges. When she reached

the holy land of Badarinâth, the god himself appeared to her in a

dream, and warned her that she being a Musalmân, her intrusion into

his domains would probably encourage the attacks of the infidel. So

he ordered her to return and take up her abode in Kankhal, where as a

reward for her piety she should after her death become the guardian

goddess of children and be deified as a manifestation of Sîtalâ. So

after her death a temple was erected on the site of her tomb, and she

receives the homage of multitudes of pilgrims. There is another noted

shrine of Sîtalâ at Râêwala, in the Dehra Dûn District. She is a Satî,

Gândharî, the wife of Dhritarâshtra, the mother of Duryodhana. When

Dhritarâshtra, through the force of his divine absorption, was consumed

with fire at Sapta-srota, near Hardwâr, Gândharî also jumped into

the fire and became Satî with her husband. Then, in recognition of

her piety, the gods blessed her with the boon that in the Iron Age

she should become the guardian deity of children and the goddess of

small-pox in particular. Another noted Sîtalâ in this part of the

country is the deity known as Ujalî Mâtâ, or "the White Mother,"

who has a shrine in the Muzaffarnagar District. Here vast crowds

assemble, and women make vows at her temple for the boon of sons,

and when a child is born they take it there and perform their vow

by making the necessary offering to the goddess. One peculiarity of

the worship of the Kankhal goddess and of Ujalî Mâtâ is that calves

are released at her shrine. This can hardly be anything else but a

survival of the rite of cattle slaughter, and this is one of many

indications that the worship of Sîtalâ is a most primitive cult,

and probably of indigenous origin.

Sîtalâ, according to one story, is only the eldest of a band of seven

sisters, by whom the pustular group of diseases is supposed to be

caused. So the charmer Lilith has twelve daughters, who are the twelve

kinds of fevers, and this arrangement of diseases or evil spirits in

categories of sevens or twelves is found in the Chaldaic magic. [288]

Similarly in the older Indian mythology we have the seven Mâtrîs,

the seven oceans, the seven Rishis, the seven Adityas and Dânavas,

and the seven horses of the sun, and numerous other combinations of

this mystic number. One list gives their names as Sîtalâ, Masânî,

Basanti, Mahâ Mâî, Polamdê, Lamkariyâ, and Agwânî. [289] We shall

meet Masânî or Masân, the deity of the cremation ground, in another

connection. Basantî is the "yellow goddess," so called probably on

account of the colour of the skin in these diseases. Mahâ Mâî is merely

"the great Mother." Polamdê is possibly "she who makes the body soft or

flabby," and Lamkariyâ, "she that hasteneth." Agwânî is said to mean

"the leader," and by one account, Agwân, who has twenty-five thousand

votaries, according to the last census returns, in the North-West

Provinces, is the son of Râja Ben, or Vena, and the brother of the

small-pox sisters. At Hardwâr they give the names of the seven sisters

as Sîtalâ, Sedalâ, Runukî, Jhunukî, Mihilâ, Merhalâ, and Mandilâ, a

set of names which smacks of some modification of an aboriginal cultus.

Their shrines cluster round the special shrine of Sîtalâ, and the

villagers to the west of the North-West Provinces call them her

Khidmatgârs, or body servants. Round many of the shrines again, as at

Kankhal, we find a group of minor shrines, which by one explanation

are called the shrines of the other disease godlings. Villagers

say that when disease appears in a family, the housewife comes and

makes a vow, and if the patient recovers she makes a little shrine

to the peculiar form of Devî which she considers responsible for the

illness. The Brâhmans say that these minor shrines are in honour

of the Yoginîs, who are usually said to number eight--Mârjanî,

Karpûratilakâ, Malayagandhinî Kauamudikâ, Bherundâ, Mâtâlî, Nâyakî,

Jayâ or Subhâchârâ, Sulakshanâ and Sunandâ. In the Gurgâon District,

accompanying images of Sîtalâ, is one of Sedhu Lâla, who is inferior

to her, yet often worshipped before her, because he is regarded as her

servant and intercessor. Copper coins are thrown behind her shrine into

a saucer, which is known as her Mâlkhâna or Treasury. Rice and other

articles of food are placed in front of her shrine, and afterwards

distributed to Chamârs, the currier caste, and to dogs. [290]

Like so many deities of this class Sîtalâ is on the way to promotion

to the higher heaven. In some places she is identified with Kâlikâ

Bhavânî, and one list of the seven small-pox sisters gives their

names as Sîtalâ, Phûlmatî, Chamariyâ, Durgâ Kâlî, Mahâ Kâlî,

and Bhadrâ Kâlî. This has obviously passed through the mill of

Brâhmanism. Of these, Chamariyâ is doubtless allied to Châmar, who is

a vaguely described low-caste deity, worshipped in the North-Western

Provinces. Some say he is the ghost of a Chamâr, or worker in leather,

who died an untimely death. Chamariyâ is said to be the eldest and

Phûlmatî the youngest sister of Sîtalâ. She, by the common account,

takes her name from the pustules (phûl) of the disease. She brings

the malady in its mildest form, and the worst variety is the work

of Sîtalâ in person. She lives in the Nîm tree, and hence a patient

suffering from the disease is fanned with its leaves. A very bad

form of confluent small-pox is the work of Chamariyâ, who must be

propitiated with the offering of a pig through a Chamâr or other

low-caste priest. The influence of Kâlî in her threefold form is

chiefly felt in connection with other pustular diseases besides

small-pox. Earthenware images of elephants are placed at her shrine,

and her offerings consist of cakes, sweetmeats, pigs, goats, sheep,

and black fowls. Bhadrâ Kâlî is the least formidable of all. The only

person who has influence over Kâlî is the Ojha, or sorcerer, who,

when cholera and similar epidemics prevail, collects a subscription

and performs a regular expiatory service.

Connection of Sîtalâ with Human Sacrifice.

In her form as household goddess, Sîtalâ is often known as Thandî,

or "the cool one," and her habitation is in the house behind the

water-pots, in the cold, damp place where the water drips. Here she

is worshipped by the house-mother, but only cold food or cold water

is offered to her.

There is, however, a darker side to the worship of Sîtalâ and the

other disease godlings than this mild household service. In 1817

a terrible epidemic of cholera broke out at Jessore. "The disease

commenced its ravages in August, and it was at once discovered that

the August of this year had five Saturdays (a day under the influence

of the ill-omened Sani). The number five being the express property of

the destructive Siva, a mystical connection was at once detected, the

infallibly baneful influence of which it would have been sacrilege to

question. On the night of the 27th a strange commotion spread through

the villages adjacent to the station. A number of magicians were

reported to have quitted Marelli with a human head in their possession,

which they were to be directed by the presence of supernatural signs

to leave in a certain, and to them unknown, village. The people on all

sides were ready by force to arrest the progress of these nocturnal

visitors. For the prophecy foretold that wherever the head fell,

the destroying angel terminating her sanguinary course would rest,

and the demon of death, thus satisfied, would refrain from further

devastation in that part of the country. Dr. Tytler says that on

that night, while walking along the road, endeavouring to allay the

agitation, the judge and he perceived a faint light arising from

a thick clump of bamboos. Attracted to the spot, they found a hut

which was illuminated, and contained images of five Hindu gods, one of

which was Sîtalâ, the celebrated and formidable Aulâ Bîbî, 'Our Lady

of the Flux,' an incarnation of Kâlî, who it is believed is one day

to appear riding on a horse for the purpose of slaughtering mankind,

and of setting the world on fire. In front of the idol a female child

about nine years of age lay on the ground. She was evidently stupefied

with intoxicating drugs, and in this way prepared to answer responses

to such questions as those initiated into the mysteries should think

proper to propose." [291] There is much in this statement which is open

to question, and it seems doubtful whether, as Dr. Chevers is disposed

to believe, the case was really one of intended human sacrifice.

Small-pox Worship in Bengal.

In Bengal the divine force antagonistic to Sîtalâ is Shashthî,

"goddess of the sixth," who is regarded as the special guardian of

children. The worship of Shashthî rests on a physiological fact,

which has only recently been applied to explain this special form

of worship. The most fatal disease of Indian children is a form of

infantile lock-jaw, which is caused by the use of a coarse, blunt

instrument, such as a sickle, for severing the umbilical cord. This

disease usually makes its appearance between the sixth and twelfth

day of the life of the child, and hence we have the formal rites of

purification from the birth pollution performed as the Chhathî on

the sixth and the Barahî on the twelfth day after delivery.

"In Bengal when small-pox rages, the gardeners are busiest. As

soon as the nature of the disease is determined, the physician

retires and a gardener is summoned. His first act is to forbid the

introduction of meat, fish, and all food requiring oil or spices

for its preparation. He then ties a lock of hair, a cowry shell,

a piece of turmeric, and an article of gold on the right wrist of

the patient. (The use of these articles as scarers of evil spirits

will be considered later on.) The sick person is then laid on the

Majhpatta, the young and unexpanded leaf of the plantain tree, and

milk is prescribed as the sole article of food. He is fanned with a

branch of the sacred Nîm (Azidirachta Indica), and any one entering

the chamber is sprinkled with water. Should the fever become aggravated

and delirium ensue, or if the child cries much and sleeps little, the

gardener performs the Mâtâ Pûjâ. This consists in bathing an image of

the goddess causing the disease, and giving a draught of the water to

drink. To relieve the irritation of the skin, pease meal, turmeric,

flour or shell sawdust is sprinkled over the body. If the eruption

be copious, a piece of new cloth in the figure of eight is wrapped

round the chest and shoulders. On the night between the seventh and

eighth days of the eruption, the gardener has much to do. He places

a water-pot in the sick-room, and puts on it rice, a cocoanut, sugar,

plantains, a yellow rag, flowers, and a few Nîm leaves. Having mumbled

several spells (mantra), he recites the tale (qissa) of the particular

goddess, which often occupies several hours. When the pustules

are mature, the gardener dips a thorn of the Karaunda (Carissa) in

sesamum oil and punctures each one. The body is then anointed with

oil, and cooling fruits are given. When the scabs have peeled off,

another ceremony called Godâm is gone through. All the offerings on

the water-pot are rolled in a cloth and fastened round the waist of

the patient. The offerings are the perquisite of the gardener, who

also receives a fee. Government vaccinators earn a considerable sum

yearly by executing the Sîtalâ worship, and when a child is vaccinated,

a portion of the service is performed"--a curious compromise between

the indigenous faith and European medical science. [292]

The special Tirhût observance of the Jur Sîtal or "smallpox fever"

feast will be more conveniently considered in connection with other

usages of the same kind.

Mâtangî Saktî and Masân.

We have already seen that Sîtalâ is in the stage of promotion to the

Brâhmanical heaven. Here her special name is Mâtangî Saktî, a word

which has been connected with Mâtâ and Masân, but really refers to

Durgâ-Devî in her terrible elephant form. Masân or Masânî is quite

a different goddess. She resides at the Masân or cremation ground,

and is greatly dreaded. The same name is in the eastern district of

the North-Western Provinces applied to the tomb of some low-caste man,

very often a Teli or oilman, or a Dhobi or washerman, both of whose

ghosts are generally obnoxious. Envious women will take the ashes

from a cremation ground and throw them over an enemy's child. This is

said to cause them to be "under the influence of the shadow" (Sâya,

Chhâya) and to waste away by slow decline. This idea is familiar

in folk-lore. All savages believe that their shadow is a part of

themselves, that if it be hurt the owner of it will feel pain, that a

man may lose his shadow altogether and thus be deprived of part of his

soul and strength, and that vicious people, as in the present case,

can fling their shadow upon you and cause you injury. [293]

Mâtangî Saktî, again, appears in at least eight forms--Raukâ Devî,

Ghraukâ Devî, Melâ Devî, Mandlâ Devî, Sîtalâ Devî, Durgâ Devî and

Sankarâ Devî, a collection of names which indicates the extraordinary

mixture of beliefs, some of them importations from the regular

mythology, but others obscure and local manifestations of the deity,

out of which this worship has been developed. She is described as

having ears as large as a winnowing fan, projecting teeth, a hideous

face with a wide open mouth. Her vehicle is the ass, an animal very

often found in association with shrines of Sîtalâ. She carries a broom

and winnowing fan with which she sifts mankind, and in one hand a

pitcher and ewer. This fan and broom are, as we shall see later on,

most powerful fetishes. All this is sheer mythology at its lowest

stage, and represents the grouping of various local fetish beliefs

on the original household worship.

Journey forbidden during an Epidemic of Small-pox.

During a small-pox epidemic no journey, not even a pilgrimage to a holy

shrine, should be undertaken. Gen. Sleeman [294] gives a curious case

in illustration of this: "At this time the only son of Râma Krishna's

brother, Khushhâl Chand, an interesting boy of about four years of age,

was extremely ill of small-pox. His father was told that he had better

defer his journey to Benares till the child should recover; but he

could neither eat nor sleep, so great was his terror lest some dreadful

calamity should befall the whole family before he could expiate a

sacrilege which he had committed unwittingly, or take the advice of

his high priest, as to the best manner of doing so, and he resolved

to leave the decision to God himself. He took two pieces of paper and

having caused Benares to be written on one and Jabalpur on the other,

he put them both in a brass vessel. After shaking the vessel well,

he drew forth that on which Benares had been written. 'It is the will

of God,' said Râma Krishna. All the family who were interested in the

preservation of the poor boy implored him not to set out, lest the Devî

who presides over small-pox should be angry. It was all in vain. He

would set out with his household god, and unable to carry it himself,

he put it upon a small litter upon a pole, and hired a bearer to carry

it at one end while he supported the other. His brother Khushhâl Chand

sent his second wife at the same time with offerings to the Devî, to

ward off the effects of his brother's rashness from the child. By the

time his brother had got with his god to Adhartâl, three miles from

Jabalpur, he heard of the death of his nephew. But he seemed not to

feel this slight blow in the terror of the dreadful, but undefined,

calamity which he felt to be impending over him and the whole family,

and he went on his road. Soon after, an infant son of his uncle died

of the same disease, and the whole town at once became divided into

two parties--those who held that the child had been killed by the Devî

as a punishment for Râma Krishna's presuming to leave Jabalpur before

they recovered, and those who held that they were killed by the god

Vishnu himself for having deprived him of one of his arms. Khushhâl

Chand's wife sickened on the road and died before reaching Mirzapur;

and as the Devî was supposed to have nothing to say to fevers, this

event greatly augmented the advocates of Vishnu."

Observances during Small-pox Epidemics.

In the Panjâb when a child falls ill of small-pox no one is allowed

to enter the house, especially if he have bathed, washed, or combed

his hair, and if any one does come in, he is made to burn incense

at the door. Should a thunderstorm come on before the vesicles have

fully come out, the sound is not allowed to enter the ear of the

sick child, and metal plates are violently beaten to drown the noise

of the thunder. For six or seven days, when the disease is at its

height, the child is fed with raisins covered with silver leaf. When

the vesicles have fully developed it is believed that Devî Mâtâ has

come. When the disease has abated a little, water is thrown over the

child. Singers and drummers are summoned and the parents make with

their friends a procession to the temple of Devî, carrying the child

dressed in saffron-coloured clothes. A man goes in advance with a bunch

of sacred grass in his hands, from which he sprinkles a mixture of

milk and water. In this way they visit some fig-tree or other shrine

of Devî, to which they tie red ribbons and besmear it with red lead,

paint and curds. [295]

One method of protecting children from the disease is to give them

opprobrious names, and dress them in rags. This, with other devices

for disease transference, will be discussed later on. We have seen that

the Nîm tree is supposed to influence the disease; hence branches of it

are hung over the door of the sick-room. Thunder disturbs the goddess

in possession of the child, so the family flour-mill, which, as as

we shall see, has mystic powers, is rattled near the child. Another

device is to feed a donkey, which is the animal on which Sîtalâ

rides. This is specially known in the Panjâb as the Jandî Pûjâ. [296]

In the same belief that the patient is under the direct influence

of the goddess, if death ensues the purification of the corpse by

cremation is considered both unnecessary and improper. Like Gusâîns,

Jogis, and similar persons who are regarded as inspired, those who

die of this disease are buried, not cremated. As Sir A. C. Lyall

observes, [297] "The rule is ordinarily expounded by the priests to

be imperative, because the outward signs and symptoms mark the actual

presence of divinity; the small-pox is not the god's work, but the

god himself manifest; but there is also some ground for concluding

that the process of burying has been found more wholesome than the

hurried and ill-managed cremation, which prevails during a fatal

epidemic." Gen. Sleeman gives an instance of an outbreak of the disease

which was attributed to a violation of this traditional rule. [298]

Minor Disease Godlings.

There are a number of minor disease godlings, some of whom may be

mentioned here. The Benares godling of malaria is Jvaraharîsvara,

"the god who repels the fever." The special offering to him is what

is called Dudhbhanga, a confection made of milk, the leaves of the

hemp plant and sweetmeats. Among the Kols of Chaibâsa, Bangara is

the godling of fever and is associated with Gohem, Chondu, Negra and

Dichali, who are considered respectively the godlings of cholera,

the itch, indigestion and death. The Bengâlis have a special service

for the worship of Ghentu, the itch godling. The scene of the service

is a dunghill. A broken earthenware pot, its bottom blackened with

constant use for cooking, daubed white with lime, interspersed with a

few streaks of turmeric, together with a branch or two of the Ghentu

plant, and last, not least, a broomstick of the genuine palmyra or

cocoanut stock, serve as the representation of the presiding deity

of itch. The mistress of the family, for whose benefit the worship

is done, acts as priestess. After a few doggrel lines are recited,

the pot is broken and the pieces collected by the children, who sing

songs about the itch godling. [299]

Some of these godlings are, like Shashthî, protectors of children

from infantile disorders. Such are in Hoshangâbâd Bijaysen, in

whose name a string, which, as we shall see, exercises a powerful

influence over demons, is hung round the necks of children from birth

till marriage, and Kurdeo, whose name represents the Kuladevatâ, or

family deity. Among the Kurkus he presides over the growth and health

of the children in three or four villages together. [300] Acheri, a

disease sprite in the Hills, particularly favours those who wear red

garments, and in his name a scarlet thread is tied round the throat as

an amulet against cold, and goitre. Ghanta Karana, "he who has ears

as broad as a bell," or "who wears bells in his ears," is another

disease godling of the Hills. He is supposed to be of great personal

attractions, and is worshipped under the form of a water jar as the

healer of cutaneous diseases. He is a gate-keeper, or, in other words,

a godling on his promotion, in many of the Garhwâl temples. [301]

Among the Kurkus of Hoshangâbâd, Mutua Deo is represented by a heap

of stones inside the village. His special sacrifice is a pig, and his

particular mission is to send epidemics, and particularly fevers, in

which case he must be propitiated with extraordinary sacrifices. [302]

One of the great disease Mothers is Marî Bhavânî. She has

her speciality in the regulation of cholera, which she spreads or

withholds according to the attention she receives. They tell a curious

story about her in Oudh. Safdar Jang, having established his virtual

independence of the Mughal Empire, determined to build a capital. He

selected as the site for it the high bank of the Gûmti, overlooking

Pâparghât in Sultânpur. And but for the accident of a sickly season,

that now comparatively unknown locality might have enjoyed the

celebrity which afterwards fell to the lot of Faizâbâd. The fort was

already begun when the news reached the Emperor, who sent his minister

a khilat, to all outward appearance suited to his rank and dignity. The

royal gift had been packed up with becoming care, and its arrival does

not seem to have struck Safdar Jang as incompatible with the rebellious

attitude which he had assumed. The box in which it was enclosed was

opened with due ceremony, when it was discovered that the Emperor,

with grim pleasantry, had selected as an appropriate gift an image

of Marî Bhavânî. The mortality which ensued in Safdar Jang's army was

appalling, and the site was abandoned, Marî Bhavânî being left in sole

possession. Periodical fairs are now held there in her honour. [303]

Hardaul Lâla, the Cholera Godling.

But the great cholera godling of Northern India is Hardaul, Hardaur,

Harda, Hardiya or Hardiha Lâla. It is only north of the Jumnâ that he

appears to control the plague, and in Bundelkhand, his native home,

he seems to have little connection with it. With him we reach a class

of godlings quite distinct from nearly all those whom we have been

considering. He is one of that numerous class who were in their

lifetime actual historical personages, and who from some special

cause, in his case from the tragic circumstances of his death, have

been elevated to a seat among the hosts of heaven. Hardaur Lâla, or

Dîvân Hardaur, was the second son of Bîr Sinha Deva, the miscreant

Râja of Orchha, in Bundelkhand, who, at the instigation of Prince

Jahângîr, assassinated the accomplished Abul Fazl, the litterateur

of the court of Akbar. [304] His brother Jhajhâr, or Jhujhâr, Sinh

succeeded to the throne on the death of his father; and after some

time suspecting Hardaur of undue intimacy with his wife, he compelled

her to poison her lover with all his companions at a feast in 1627 A.D.

After this tragedy it happened that the daughter of the Princess

Kanjâvatî, sister of Jhajhâr and Hardaur, was about to be married. Her

mother, according to the ordinary rule of family etiquette, sent an

invitation to Jhajhâr Sinh to attend the wedding. He refused with the

mocking taunt that she would be wise to invite her favourite brother

Hardaur. Thereupon, she in despair went to his cenotaph and lamented

his wretched end. Hardaur from below answered her cries, and promised

to attend the wedding and make all the necessary arrangements. The

ghost kept his promise, and arranged the marriage ceremony as befitted

the honour of his house.

Subsequently he is said to have visited the bedside of the Emperor

Akbar at midnight, and besought him to issue an order that platforms

should be erected in his name, and honour be paid to him in every

village of the Empire, promising that if he were duly propitiated,

no wedding should ever be marred with storm or rain, and that no one

who before eating presented a share of his meal to him, should ever

want for bread. Akbar, it is said, complied with these requests, and

since then the ghost of Hardaul has been worshipped in nearly every

village in Northern India. But here, as in many of these legends,

the chronology is hopeless. Akbar died in 1605 A.D., and the murder

of Hardaul is fixed in 1627.

He is chiefly honoured at weddings, and in the month of Baisâkh (May),

when the women, particularly those of the lower classes, visit his

shrine and eat the offerings presented to him. The shrine is always

erected outside the hamlet, and is decorated with flags. On the day

but one before the arrival of a wedding procession, the women of

the family worship Hardaul, and invite him to the ceremony. If any

signs of a storm appear, he is propitiated with songs, one of the

best known of which runs thus--

Lâla! Thy shrine is in every hamlet!

Thy name throughout the land!

Lord of the Bundela land!

May God increase thy fame!

Or in the local patois--

Gânwân chauntra,

Lâla desan nâm:

Bundelê des kê Raiya,

Râû kê.

Tumhârî jay rakhê

Bhagwân!

Many of these shrines have a stone figure of the hero represented on

horseback, set up at the head or west side of the platform. From his

birthplace Hardaul is also known as Bundela, and one of the quarters

in Mirzapur, and in the town of Brindaban in the Mathura District,

is named after him. [305]

But while in his native land of Bundelkhand Hardaul is a wedding

godling, in about the same rank as Dulha Deo among the Drâvidian

tribes, to the north of the Jumnâ it is on his power of influencing

epidemics of cholera that his reputation mainly rests. The terrible

outbreak of this pestilence, which occurred in the camp of the

Governor-General, the Marquess Hastings, during the Pindâri war, was

generally attributed by the people to the killing of beef for the

use of the British troops in the grove where the ashes of Hardaul

repose. Sir C. A. Elliott remarks that he has seen statements in

the old official correspondence of 1828 A.D., when we first took

possession of Hoshangâbâd, that the district officers were directed

to force the village headmen to set up altars to Hardaul Lâla in every

village. This was part of the system of "preserving the cultivators,"

since it was found that they ran away, if their fears of epidemics were

not calmed by the respect paid to the local gods. But in Hoshangâbâd,

the worship of Hardaul Lâla has fallen into great neglect in recent

times, the repeated recurrence of cholera having shaken the belief

in the potency of his influence over the disease. [306]

Exorcism of the Cholera Demon.

Mention has been already made of the common belief in an actual

embodiment of pestilence in a human or ghostly form. A disease

so sudden and mysterious as cholera is naturally capable of a

superstitious explanation of this kind. Everywhere it is believed to

be due to the agency of a demon, which can be expelled by noise and

special incantations, or removed by means of a scapegoat. Thus, the

Muhammadans of Herat believed that a spirit of cholera stalked through

the land in advance of the actual disease. [307] All over Upper India,

when cholera prevails, you may see fires lighted on the boundaries

of villages to bar the approach of the demon of the plague, and the

people shouting and beating drums to hasten his departure. On one

occasion I was present at such a ceremonial while out for an evening

drive, and as we approached the place the grooms advised us to stop

the horses in order to allow the demon to cross the road ahead of us

without interruption.

This expulsion of the disease spirit is often a cause of quarrels and

riots, as villages who are still safe from the epidemic strongly resent

the introduction of the demon within their boundaries. In a recent case

at Allahâbâd a man stated that the cholera monster used to attempt to

enter his house nightly, that his head resembled a large earthen pot,

and that he and his brother were obliged to bar his entrance with their

clubs. Another attributed the immunity of his family to the fact that

he possessed a gun, which he regularly fired at night to scare the

demon. Not long ago some men in the same district enticed the cholera

demon into an earthen pot by magical rites, and clapping on the lid,

formed a procession in the dead of night for the purpose of carrying

the pot to a neighbouring village, with which their relations were the

reverse of cordial, and burying it there secretly. But the enemy were

on the watch, and turned out in force to frustrate this fell intent. A

serious riot occurred, in the course of which the receptacle containing

the evil spirit was unfortunately broken and he escaped to continue

his ravages in the neighbourhood. [308] In Bombay, when cholera breaks

out in a village, the village potter is asked to make an image of the

goddess of cholera. When the image is ready, the village people go in

procession to the potter's house, and tell him to carry the image to

a spot outside the village. When it is taken to the selected place,

it is first worshipped by the potter and then by the villagers. [309]

Here, as in many instances of similar rites, the priest is a man of

low caste, which points to the indigenous character of the worship.

In the western districts of the North-Western Provinces the rite takes

a more advanced form. When cholera prevails, Kâlî Devî is worshipped,

and a magic circle of milk and spirits is drawn round the village,

over which the cholera demon does not care to step. They have also

a reading of the Scriptures in honour of Durgâ, and worship a Satî

shrine, if there be one in the village. The next stage is the actual

scapegoat, which is, as we shall see, very generally used for this

purpose. A buffalo bull is marked with a red pigment and driven to the

next village, where he carries the plague with him. Quite recently,

at Meerut, the people purchased a buffalo, painted it red and led

the animal through the city in procession. Colonel Tod describes how

Zâlim Sinh, the celebrated regent of Kota, drove cholera out of the

place. "Having assembled the Brâhmans, astrologers and those versed

in incantations, a grand rite was got up, sacrifices made, and a

solemn decree of banishment was pronounced against Marî, the cholera

goddess. Accordingly an equipage was prepared for her, decorated with

funeral emblems, painted black and drawn by a double team of black

oxen; bags of grain, also black, were put into the vehicle, that the

lady might not go without food, and driven by a man in sable vestments,

followed by the yells of the populace, Marî was deported across the

Chambal river, with the commands of the priests that she should never

again set foot in Kota. No sooner did my deceased friend hear of her

expulsion from that capital, and being placed on the road for Bûndi,

than the wise men of the city were called on to provide means to keep

her from entering therein. Accordingly, all the water of the Ganges

at hand was in requisition; an earthen vessel was placed over the

southern portal from which the sacred water was continually dripping,

and against which no evil could prevail. Whether my friend's supply

of the holy water failed, or Marî disregarded such opposition, she

reached the palace." [310]

Cholera caused by Witchcraft.

In Gujarât, among the wilder tribes, the belief prevails that cholera

is caused by old women who feed on the corpses of the victims of the

pestilence. Formerly, when a case occurred their practice was to go to

the soothsayer (Bhagat), find out from him who was the guilty witch,

and kill her with much torture. Of late years this practice has,

to a great extent, ceased. The people now attribute an outbreak to

the wrath of the goddess Kâlî, and, to please her, draw her cart

through the streets, and lifting it over the village boundaries,

offer up goats and buffaloes. Sometimes, to keep off the disease,

they make a magic circle with milk or coloured threads round the

village. At Nâsik, when cholera breaks out in the city, the leading

Brâhmans collect in little doles from each house a small allowance of

rice, put the rice in a cart, take it beyond the limits of the town,

and there it is thrown away. [311]

A visitation of the plague in Nepâl was attributed to the Râja

insisting on celebrating the Dasahra during an intercalary month. On

another occasion the arrival of the disease was attributed to the

Evil Eye of Saturn and other planets, which secretly came together

in one sign of the zodiac. A third attack was supposed to be caused

by the Râja being in his eighteenth year, and the year of the cycle

being eighty-eight--eight being a very unlucky number. [312]

So the Gonds try to ward off the anger of the spirits of cholera and

small-pox by sacrifices, and by thoroughly cleaning their villages and

transferring the sweepings into some road or travelled track. Their

idea is that unless the disease is communicated to some person who will

take it on to the next village, the plague will not leave them. For

this reason they do not throw the sweepings into the jungle, as no

one passes that way, and consequently the benefit of sweeping is

lost. [313]

An extraordinary case was recently reported from the Dehra Ismâîl Khân

District. There had been a good deal of sickness in the village, and

the people spread a report that this was due to the fact that a woman,

who had died some seven months previously, had been chewing her funeral

sheet. The relatives were asked to allow the body to be examined, which

was done, and it was found that owing to the subsidence of the ground

through rain, some earth had fallen into the mouth of the corpse. A

copper coin was placed in the mouth as a viaticum, and a fowl killed

and laid on the body, which was again interred. The same result is very

often believed to follow from burying persons of the sweeper caste in

the usual extended position, instead of a sitting posture or with the

face downwards. A sweeper being one of the aboriginal or casteless

tribes is believed to have something uncanny about him. Recently in

Muzaffarnagar, a corpse buried in the unorthodox way was disinterred

by force, and the matter finally came before the courts.

The Demon of Cattle Disease.

In the same way cattle disease is caused by the plague demon. Once

upon a time a man, whose descendants live in the Mathura District,

was sleeping out in the fields when he saw the cattle disease creeping

up to his oxen in an animal shape. He watched his opportunity and got

the demon under his shield, which he fixed firmly down. The disease

demon entreated to be released, but he would not let it go till it

promised that it would never remain where he or his descendants

were present. So to this day, when the murrain visits a village,

his descendants are summoned and work round the village, calling on

the disease to fulfil its contract. [314]

The murrain demon is expelled in the same way as that of the cholera,

and removed by the agency of the scapegoat. In the western part of

the North-Western Provinces you will often notice wisps of straw tied

round the trunks of acacia trees, which, as we shall see, possess

mystic powers, as a means to bar disease.

Kâsi Bâba is the tribal deity of the Binds of Bengal. Of him it is

reported: "A mysterious epidemic was carrying off the herds on the

banks of the Ganges, and the ordinary expiatory sacrifices were

ineffectual. One evening a clownish Ahîr, on going to the river,

saw a figure rinsing its mouth from time to time, and making an

unearthly sound with a conch shell. The lout, concluding that this

must be the demon that caused the epidemic, crept up and clubbed the

unsuspecting bather. Kâsi Nâth was the name of the murdered Brâhman,

and as the cessation of the murrain coincided with his death, the low

Hindustâni castes have ever since regarded Kâsi Bâba as the maleficent

spirit that sends disease among the cattle. Nowadays he is propitiated

by the following curious ceremony. As soon as an infectious disease

breaks out, the village cattle are massed together, and cotton seed

sprinkled over them. The fattest and sleekest animal being singled

out, is severely beaten with rods. The herd, scared by the noise,

scamper off to the nearest shelter, followed by the scape bull;

and by this means it is thought the murrain is stayed." [315]

Kâsi Dâs, according to the last census, has 172,000 worshippers in

the eastern districts of the North-Western Provinces.

Other Cholera Godlings.

Beside Hardaul Lâla, the great cholera godling, Hulkâ Devî, the

impersonation of vomiting, is worshipped in Bengal with the same

object. She appears to be the same as Holikâ or Horkâ Maiyyâ, whom

we shall meet in connection with the Holî festival. We have already

noticed Marî or Marî Mâî, "Mother death," or as she is called when

promoted to Brâhmanism, Marî Bhavânî. She and Hatthî, a minor cholera

goddess, are worshipped when cholera prevails. By one account she and

Sîtalâ are daughters of Râja Vena. About ten thousand people recorded

themselves at the last census as worshippers of Hatthî and Marî in the

North-Western Provinces. Among the jungle tribes of Mirzapur she is

known as Obâ, an Arabic word (waba) meaning pestilence. Marî, as we

have said, has a special shrine in Sultânpur to commemorate a fatal

outbreak of cholera in the army of Safdar Jang. In the Panjâb Marî

is honoured with an offering of a pumpkin, a male buffalo, a cock, a

ram and a goat. These animals are each decapitated with a single blow

before her altar. If more than one blow is required the ceremony is a

failure. Formerly, in addition to these five kinds of offering a man

and woman were sacrificed, to make up the mystic number seven. [316]

Exorcism of Disease.

The practice of exorcising these demons of disease has been elaborated

into something like a science. Disease, according to the general belief

of the rural population, can be removed by a species of magic, usually

of the variety known as "sympathetic," and it can be transferred

from the sufferer to some one else. The special incantations for

disease are in the hands of low-caste sorcerers or magicians. Among

the more primitive races, such as those of Drâvidian origin in

Central India, this is the business of the Baiga, or aboriginal

devil priest. But even here there is a differentiation of function,

and though the Baiga is usually considered competent to deal with

the cases of persons possessed of evil spirits, it is only special

persons who can undertake the regular exorcism. This is among the

lower tribes of Hindus the business of the Syâna, "the cunning man,"

the Sokha (Sanskrit sukskma, "the subtile one"), or the Ojha, which

is a corruption of the Sanskrit Upâdhyâya or "teacher."

Like Æsculapius, Paieon, and even Apollo himself, the successful

magician and healer gradually develops into a god. All over the

country there are, as we have seen, the shrines of saints who won

the reverence of the people by the cures wrought at their tombs. The

great deified healer in Behâr and the eastern Districts of the

North-Western Provinces is Sokha Bâba, who, according to the last

census, had thirteen thousand special worshippers. He is said to have

been a Brâhman who was killed by a snake, and now possesses the power

of inflicting snake-bite on those who do not propitiate him.

Exorcisers are both professional and non-professional.

"Non-professional exorcisers are generally persons who get naturally

improved by a guardian spirit (deva), and a few of them learn the art

of exorcism from a Guru or teacher. Most of the professional

exorcisers learn from a Guru. The first study is begun on a lunar or

on a solar eclipse day. On such a day the teacher after bathing, and

without wiping his body, or his head or hair, puts on dry clothes,

and goes to the village godling's temple. The candidate then spreads

a white cloth before the god, and on one side of the cloth makes a

heap of rice, and on another a heap of Urad (phaseolus radiatus),

sprinkles red lead on the heaps, and breaks a cocoanut in front of

the idol. The Guru then teaches him the incantation (mantra), which

he commits to memory. An ochre-coloured flag is then tied to a staff

in front of the temple, and the teacher and candidate come home.

"After this, on the first new moon which falls on a Saturday, the

teacher and the candidate go together out of the village to a place

previously marked out by them on the boundary. A servant accompanies

them, who carries a bag of Urad, oil, seven earthen lamps, lemons,

cocoanuts, and red powder. After coming to the spot, the teacher and

the candidate bathe, and then the teacher goes to the village temple,

and sits praying for the safety of the candidate. The candidate,

who has been already instructed as to what should be done, then

starts for the boundary of the next village, accompanied by the

servant. On reaching the village boundary, he picks up seven pebbles,

sets them in a line on the road, and after lighting a lamp near them,

he worships them with flowers, red powder, and Urad. Incense is then

burnt, and a cocoanut is broken near the pebble which represents Vetâla

and his lieutenants, and a second cocoanut is broken for the village

godling." Here the cocoanut is symbolical of a sacrifice which was

probably originally of a human victim.

"When this is over, he goes to a river, well, or other bathing place,

and bathes, and without wiping his body or putting on dry clothes,

proceeds to the boundary of the next village. There he repeats the

same process as he did before, and then goes to the boundary of a third

village. In this manner he goes to seven villages and repeats the same

process. All this while he keeps on repeating incantations. After

finishing his worship at the seventh village, the candidate returns

to his village, and going to the temple, sees his teacher and tells

him what he has done.

"In this manner, having worshipped and propitiated the Vetâlas of

seven villages, he becomes an exorcist. After having been able to

exercise these powers, he must observe certain rules. Thus, on every

eclipse day he must go to a sea-shore or a river bank, bathe in cold

water, and while standing in the water repeat incantations a number

of times. After bathing daily he must neither wring his head hair,

nor wipe his body dry. While he is taking his meals, he should leave

off if he hears a woman in her monthly sickness speak or if a lamp

be extinguished.

"The Muhammadan methods of studying exorcism are different from those

of the Hindus. One of them is as follows:--The candidate begins his

study under the guidance of his teacher on the last day of the lunar

month, provided it falls on a Tuesday or Sunday. The initiation takes

place in a room, the walls and floor of which have been plastered

with mud, and here and there daubed with sandal paste. On the floor

a white sheet is spread, and the candidate after washing his hands

and feet, and wearing a new waist-cloth or trousers, sits on the

sheet. He lights one or two incense sticks and makes offerings of a

white cloth and meat to one of the principal Musalmân saints. This

process is repeated for from fourteen to forty days." [317]

Few rural exorcisers go through this elaborate ritual, the object of

which it is not difficult to understand. The candidate wishes to get

the Vetâla or local demon of the village into his power and to make

him work his will. So he provides himself with a number of articles

which, as we shall see, are known for their influence over the

spirits of evil, such as the Urad pulse, lamps, cocoanuts, etc. The

careful rule of bathing, the precautions against personal impurity,

the worship done at the shrine of the village godling by the teacher,

are all intended to guard him in the hour of danger. The common village

"wise man" contents himself with learning a few charms of the hocus

pocus variety, and a cure in some difficult case of devil possession

secures his reputation as a healer.

Methods of Rural Exorcism.

The number of these charms is legion, and most exorcisers have

one of their own in which they place special confidence and which

they are unwilling to disclose. As Sir Monier Williams writes

[318]:--"No magician, wizard, sorcerer or witch whose feats are

recorded in history, biography or fable, has ever pretended to be

able to accomplish by incantation and enchantment half of what

the Mantra-sâstri claims to have power to effect by help of his

Mantras. For example, he can prognosticate futurity, work the most

startling prodigies, infuse breath into dead bodies, kill or humiliate

enemies, afflict any one anywhere with disease or madness, inspire

anyone with love, charm weapons and give them unerring efficacy,

enchant armour and make it impenetrable, turn milk into wine, plants

into meat, or invert all such processes at will. He is even superior to

the gods, and can make goddesses, gods, imps and demons carry out his

most trifling behests. Hence it is not surprising that the following

remarkable saying is everywhere current throughout India: 'The whole

universe is subject to the gods; the gods are subject to the Mantras;

the Mantras to the Brâhmans; therefore the Brâhmans are our gods.'"

All these devices of Mantras or spells, Kavâchas or amulets, Nyâsas

or mentally assigning various parts of the body to the protection

of tutelary presiding deities, and Mudras or intertwining of the

fingers with a mystic meaning, spring from the corrupt fountain head

of the Tantras, the bible of Sâktism. But these are the speciality

of the higher class of professional exorciser, who is very generally

a Brâhman, and do not concern us here.

A few examples of the formulæ used by the village "cunning man" may

be given here. Thus in Mirzapur when a person is known to be under

the influence of a witch the Ojha recites a spell, which runs--"Bind

the evil eye; bind the fist; bind the spell; bind the curse; bind the

ghost and the churel; bind the witch's hands and feet. Who can bind

her? The teacher can bind her. I, the disciple of the teacher, can bind

her. Go, witch, to wherever thy shrine may be; sit there and leave

the afflicted person." In these spells Hanumân, the monkey godling,

is often invoked. Thus--"I salute the command of my teacher. Hanumân,

the hero, is the hero of heroes. He has in his quiver nine lâkhs

of arrows. He is sometimes on the right, sometimes on the left,

and sometimes in the front. I serve thee, powerful master. May not

this man's body be crippled. I see the cremation ground in the two

worlds and outside them. If in my body or in the body of this man

any ill arise, then I call on the influence of Hanumân. My piety,

the power of the teacher, this charm is true because it comes from

the Almighty." In the same way two great witches, Lonâ Chamârin and

Ismâîl the Jogi are often invoked. The Musalmân calls on Sulaimân,

the lord Solomon, who is a leader of demons and a controller of evil

spirits, for which there is ample authority in the Qurân.

But it is in charms for disease that the rural exorciser is most

proficient. Accidents, such as the bites of snakes, stings of

scorpions, or wasps are in particular treated in this way, and these

charms make up most of the folk-medicine of Northern India. Thus,

when a man is stung by a scorpion the exorciser says--"Black scorpion

of the limestone! Green is thy tail and black thy mouth. God orders

thee to go home. Come out! Come out! If thou fail to come out Mahâdeva

and Pârvatî will drive thee out!" Another spell for scorpion sting

runs thus--"On the hill and mountain is the holy cow. From its dung

the scorpions were born, six black and six brown. Help me! O Nara

Sinha! (the man lion incarnation of Vishnu). Rub each foot with

millet and the poison will depart." So, to cure the bite of a dog,

get some clay which has been worked on a potter's wheel, which as we

shall see is a noted fetish, make a lump of it and rub it to the wound

and say--"The black dog is covered with thick hair." Another plan in

cases of hydrophobia is to kill a dog, and after burning it to make

the patient imbibe the smoke. Headache is caused by a worm in the

head, which comes out if the ear be rubbed with butter. Women of the

gipsy tribes are noted for their charms to take out the worm which

causes toothache. When a man is bitten by a snake the practitioner

says--"True god, true hero, Hanumân! The snake moves in a tortuous

way. The male and female weasel come out of their hole to destroy

it. Which poison will they devour? First they will eat the black Karait

snake, then the snake with the jewel, then the Ghor snake. I pray to

thee for help, my true teacher." So, if you desire to be safe from

the attacks of the tiger, say--"Tie up the tiger, tie up the tigress,

tie up her seven cubs. Tie up the roads and the footpaths and the

fields. O Vasudeva, have mercy? Have mercy, O Lonâ Chamârin!" Lastly,

if you desire an appointment, say--"O Kâlî, Kankâlî, Mahâkâli! Thy

face is beautiful, but at thy heart is a serpent. There are four

demon heroes and eighty-four Bhairons. If thou givest the order I

will worship them with betel nuts and sweetmeats. Now shout--'Mercy, O

Mother Kali!'" It would not be difficult to describe hundreds of such

charms, but what has been recorded will be sufficient to exemplify

the ordinary methods of rural exorcism. [319]

When the Ojha is called in to identify the demon which has beset

a patient, he begins by ascertaining whether it is a local ghost

or an outsider which has attacked him on a journey. Then he calls

for some cloves, and muttering a charm over them, ties them to the

bedstead on which the sick man lies. Then the patient is told to

name the ghost which has possessed him, and he generally names one

of his dead relations, or the ghost of a hill, a tree or a burial

ground. Then the Ojha suggests an appropriate offering, which when

bestowed and food given to Brâhmans, the patient ought in all decency

to recover. If he does not, the Ojha asserts that the right ghost

has not been named, and the whole process is gone through again,

if necessary funds are forthcoming.

The Baiga of Mirzapur, who very often combines the function of an Ojha

with his own legitimate business of managing the local ghosts, works

in very much the same way. He takes some barley in a sieve, which as

we shall see is a very powerful fetish, and shakes it until only a few

grains are left in the interstices. Then he marks down the intruding

ghost by counting the grains, and recommends the sacrifice of a fowl

or a goat, or the offering of some liquor, most of which he usually

consumes himself. If his patient die, he gets out of the difficulty

by saying--"Such and such a powerful Bhût carried him off. What can

a poor man, such as I am, do?" If a tiger or a bear kills a man,

the Baiga tells his friends that such and such a Bhût was offended

because no attention was paid to him, and in revenge entered into

the animal which killed the deceased, the obvious moral being that

in future more regular offerings should be made through the Baiga.

In Hoshangâbâd the Bhomka sorcerer has a handful of grain waved over

the head of the sick man. This is then carried to the Bhomka, who makes

a heap of it on the floor, and sitting over it, swings a lighted lamp

suspended by four strings from his fingers. He then repeats slowly

the names of the patient's ancestors and of the village and local

godling, pausing between each, and when the lamp stops spinning the

name at which it halts is the name to be propitiated. Then in the

same way he asks--"What is the propitiation offering to be? A pig? A

cocoanut? A chicken? A goat?" And the same mystic sign indicates the

satisfaction of the god. [320]

The Kol diviner drops oil into a vessel of water. The name of the

deity is pronounced as the oil is dropped. If it forms one globule

in the water, it is considered that the particular god to be appeased

has been correctly named; if it splutters and forms several globules,

another name is tried. The Orâon Ojha puts the fowls intended as

victims before a small mud image, on which he sprinkles a few grains

of rice; if they pick at the rice it indicates that the particular

devil represented by the image is satisfied with the intentions of

his votaries, and the sacrifice proceeds. [321]

The Panjâb diviner adopts a stock method common to such practitioners

all over the world. He writes some spells on a piece of paper,

and pours on it a large drop of ink. Flowers are then placed in the

hands of a young child, who is told to look into the ink and say,

"Summon the four guardians." He is asked if he sees anything in the

ink, and according to the answer a result is arrived at. [322] The

modus operandi of these exorcisers is, in fact, very much the same

in India as in other parts of the world. [323]

Exorcism by Dancing.

In all rites of this class religious dancing as a means of scaring

the demon of evil holds an important place. Thus of the Bengal Muâsis

Col. Dalton writes [324]--"The affection comes on like a fit of ague,

lasting sometimes for a quarter of an hour, the patient or possessed

person writhing and trembling with intense violence, especially at

the commencement of the paroxysm. Then he is seen to spring from the

ground into the air, and a succession of leaps follow, all executed

as though he were shot at by unseen agency. During this stage of

the seizure he is supposed to be quite unconscious, and rolls into

the fire, if there be one, or under the feet of the dancers, without

sustaining injury from the heat or from the pressure. This lasts for

a few minutes only, and is followed by the spasmodic stage. With hands

and knees on the ground and hair loosened, the body is convulsed, and

the head shakes violently, whilst from the mouth issues a hissing or

gurgling noise. The patient next evincing an inclination to stand on

his legs, the bystanders assist him, and place a stick in his hand,

with the aid of which he hops about, the spasmodic action of the

body still continuing, and the head performing by jerks a violently

fatiguing circular movement. This may go on for hours, though Captain

Samuells says that no one in his senses could continue such exertion

for many minutes. When the Baiga is appealed to to cast out the

spirit, he must first ascertain whether it is Gansâm or one of his

familiars that has possessed the victim. If it be the great Gansâm,

the Baiga implores him to desist, meanwhile gradually anointing the

victim with butter; and if the treatment is successful, the patient

gradually and naturally subsides into a state of repose, from which

he rises into consciousness, and, restored to his normal state,

feels no fatigue or other ill-effects from the attack."

The same religious dance of ecstasy appears in what is known as the Râs

Mandala of the modern Vaishnava sects, which is supposed to represent

the dance of the Gopîs with Krishna. So in Bombay among the Marâthas

the worship of the chief goddess of the Dakkhin, Tuljâ Bhavânî,

is celebrated by a set of dancing devotees, called Gondhalis, whose

leader becomes possessed by the goddess. A high stool is covered with

a black cloth. On the cloth thirty-six pinches of rice are dropped in

a heap, and with them turmeric and red powder, all scarers of demons,

are mixed. On the rice is set a copper vessel filled with milk and

water, and in this the goddess is supposed to take her abode. Over it

are laid betel leaves and a cocoanut. Five torches are carried round

the vessel by five men, each shouting "Ambâ Bhavânî!" The music plays,

and dancers dance before her. So at a Brâhman marriage at Pûna the

boy and girl are seated on the shoulders of their maternal uncles

or other relations, who perform a frantic dance, the object being,

as in all these cases, to scare away the spirits of evil. [325]

Flagellation.

So with flagellation, which all over the world is supposed to have the

power of scaring demons. Thus in the Central Indian Hills the Baiga

with his Gurda, or sacred chain, which being made of iron, possesses

additional potency, soundly thrashes patients attacked with epilepsy,

hysteria, and similar ailments, which from their nature are obviously

due to demoniacal agency. There are numerous instances of the use of

the lash for this purpose. In Bombay, among the Lingâyats, the woman

who names the child has her back beaten with gentle blows; and some

beggar Brâhmans refuse to take alms until the giver beats them. [326]

There is a famous shrine at Ghauspur, in the Jaunpur District, where

the Ojhas beat their patients to drive out the disease demon. [327]

The records of Roman Catholic hagiology and of the special sect of

the Flagellants will furnish numerous parallel instances.

Treatment of Sorcerers.

While the sorcerer by virtue of his profession is generally

respected and feared, in some places they have been dealt with

rather summarily. There is everywhere a struggle between the

Brâhman priest of the greater gods and the exorciser, who works by

the agency of demons. Sudarsan Sâh rid Garhwâl of them by summoning

all the professors of the black art with their books. When they were

collected he had them bound hand and foot and thrown with their books

and implements into the river. The same monarch also disposed very

effectually of a case of possession in his own family. One day he heard

a sound of drumming and dancing in one of his courtyards, and learnt

that a ghost named Goril had taken possession of one of his female

slaves. The Râja was wroth, and taking a thick bamboo, he proceeded to

the spot and laid about him so vigorously that the votaries of Goril

soon declared that the deity had taken his departure. The Râja then

ordered Goril to cease from possessing people, and nowadays if any

Garhwâli thinks himself possessed, he has only to call on the name

of Sudarsan Sâh and the demon departs. [328]

Appointment of Ojhas.

The mode of succession to the dignity of an Ojha varies in different

places. In Mirzapur the son is usually educated by his father,

and taught the various spells and modes of incantation. But this is

not always the case; and here at the present time the institution

is in a transition stage. South of the Son we have the Baiga, who

usually acts as an Ojha also; and he is invariably drawn from the

aboriginal races. Further north he is known as Nâya (Sanskrit nâyaka)

or "leader." Further north, again, as we leave the hilly country and

enter the completely Brâhmanized Gangetic valley, he changes into

the regular Ojha, who is always a low-class Brâhman.

In one instance which came under my own notice, the Nâya of the village

had been an aboriginal Kol, and he before his death announced that

"the god had sat on the head" of a Brâhman candidate for the office,

who was duly initiated, and is now the recognized village Ojha. This

is a good example of the way in which Brâhmanism annexes and absorbs

the demonolatry of the lower races. This, too, enables us to correct

a statement which has been made even by such a careful inquirer

as Mr. Sherring when he says [329]--"Formerly the Ojha was always

a Brâhman; but his profession has become so lucrative that sharp,

clever, shrewd men in all the Hindu castes have taken to it." There

can be no question that the process has been the very reverse of this,

and that the early Ojhas were aboriginal sorcerers, and that their

trade was taken over by the Brâhman as the land became Hinduized.

In Hoshangâbâd the son usually succeeds his father, but a Bhomka does

not necessarily marry into a Bhomka family, nor does it follow that

"once a Bhomka, always a Bhomka." On the contrary, the position seems

to be the result of the special favour of the godling of the particular

village in which he lives; and if the whole of the residents emigrate

in a body, then the godling of the new village site will have to be

consulted afresh as to the servant whom he chooses to attend upon him.

"If a Bhomka dies or goes away, or a new village is established, his

successor is appointed in the following way. All the villagers assemble

at the shrine of Mutua Deo, and offer a black and white chicken to

him. A Parihâr, or priest, should be enticed to grace the solemnity

and make the sacrifice, but if that cannot be done the oldest man

in the assembly does it. Then he sets a wooden grain measure rolling

along the line of seated people, and the man before whom it stops is

marked out by the intervention of the deity as the new Bhomka." [330]

It marks perhaps some approximation to Hinduism that the priest,

when inspired by the god, wears a thread made of the hair of a

bullock's tail, unless this is based on the common use of thread or

hair as a scarer of demons, or is some token or fetish peculiar to

the race. At the same time the non-Brâhmanic character of the worship

is proved by the fact that the priest, when in a state of ecstasy,

cannot bear the presence of a cow, or Brâhman. "The god," they say,

"would leave their heads if either of these came near."

On one occasion, when Sir C. A. Elliott saw the process of exorcism,

the men did not actually revolve when "the god came on his head." He

covered his head up well in a cloth, leaving space for the god to

approach, and in this state he twisted and turned himself rapidly,

and soon sat down exhausted. We shall see elsewhere that the head

is one of the chief spirit entries, and the top of the head is left

uncovered in order to let the spirit make its way through the sutures

of the skull. Then from the pit of his stomach he uttered words which

the bystanders interpreted to direct a certain line of conduct for

the sick man to pursue. "But perhaps the occasion was not a fair test,

as the Parihâr strongly objected to the presence of an unbeliever, on

the pretence that the god would be afraid to come before so great an

official." This has always been the standing difficulty in Europeans

obtaining a practical knowledge of the details of rural sorcery,

and when a performance of the kind is specially arranged, it will

usually be found that the officiant performs the introductory rites

with comparative success, but as it comes to the crucial point he

breaks down, just as the ecstatic crisis should have commenced. This is

always attributed to the presence of an unbeliever, however interested

and sympathetic. The same result usually happens at spiritualistic

séances, when anyone with even an elementary knowledge of physics or

mechanics happens to be one of the audience.

Fraud in Exorcism.

The question naturally arises--Are all these Ojhas and Baigas

conscious hypocrites and swindlers? Dr. Tylor shrewdly remarks that

"the sorcerer generally learns his time-honoured profession in good

faith, and retains the belief in it more or less from first to last. At

once dupe and cheat, he combines the energy of a believer with the

cunning of a hypocrite." [331] This coincides with the experience

of most competent Indian observers. No one who consults a Syâna and

observes the confident way in which he asserts his mystic power, can

doubt that he at least believes to a large extent in the sacredness

of his mission. Captain Samuells, who repeatedly witnessed these

performances, distinctly asserts that it is a mistake to suppose that

there is always intentional deception. [332]

Disease Charms.

Next to the services of the professional exorciser for the purpose

of preventing or curing disease, comes the use of special charms for

this purpose. There is a large native literature dealing with this

branch of science. As a rule most native patients undergo a course

of this treatment before they visit our hospitals, and the result

of European medical science is hence occasionally disappointing. One

favourite talisman of this kind is the magic square, which consists

in an arrangement of certain numbers in a special way. For instance,

in order to cure barrenness, it is a good plan to write a series

of numbers which added up make 73 both ways on a piece of bread,

and with it feed a black dog, which is the attendant of Bhairon, a

giver of offspring. To cure a tumour a figure in the form of a cross

is drawn with three cyphers in the centre and one at each of the four

ends. This is prepared on a Sunday and tied round the left arm. Another

has a series of numbers aggregating 15 every way. This is engraved on

copper and tied round a child's neck to keep off the Evil Eye. In the

case of cattle disease, some gibberish, which pretends to be Arabic

or Sanskrit, appealing for the aid of Lonâ Chamârin or Ismâîl Jogi,

with a series of mystic numbers, is written on a piece of tile. This

is hung on a rope over the village cattle path, and a ploughshare is

buried at the entrance to make the charm more powerful. When cattle

are attacked with worms, the owner fills a clean earthen pot with

water drawn from the well with one hand; he then mutters a blessing,

and with some sacred Dâbh grass sprinkles a little water seven times

along the back of the animal.

The number of these charms is legion. Many of them merge into the

special preservatives against the Evil Eye, which will be discussed

later on. Thus the bâzâr merchant writes the words Râm! Râm! several

times near his door, or he makes a representation of the sun and moon,

or a rude image of Ganesa, the godling of good luck, or draws the

mystical Swâstika. A house of a banker at Kankhal which I recently

examined bore a whole gallery of pictures round it. There were Siva

and Pârvatî on an ox with their son Mârkandeya; Yamarâja, the deity

of death, with a servant waving a fan over his head; Krishna with

his spouse Râdhâ: Hanumân, the monkey godling; the Ganges riding on a

fish, with Bhâgîratha, who brought her down from heaven; Bhîshma, the

hero of the Mahâbhârata; Arjuna representing the Pândavas; the saints

Uddalaka and Nârada Muni; Ganesa with his two maidservants; and Brahma

and Vishnu riding on Sesha Nâga, the great serpent. Beneath these

was an inscription invoking Râma, Lakshmana, the Ganges and Hanumân.

Rag Offerings.

Next come the arrangements by which disease may be expelled or

transferred to someone else. In this connection we may discuss the

curious custom of hanging up rags on trees or near sacred wells. Of

this custom India supplies numerous examples. At the Balchha pass in

Garhwâl there is a small heap of stones at the summit, with sticks and

rags attached to them, to which travellers add a stone or two as they

pass. [333] In Persia they fix rags on bushes in the name of the Imâm

Raza. They explain the custom by saying that the eye of the Imâm being

always on the top of the mountain, the shreds which are left there by

those who hold him in reverence, remind him of what he ought to do

in their behalf with Muhammad, 'Ali and the other holy personages,

who are able to propitiate the Almighty in their favour. [334]

Moorcroft in his journey to Ladâkh describes how he propitiated the

evil spirit of a dangerous pass with the leg of a pair of worn-out

nankin trousers. [335] Among the Mirzapur Korwas the Baiga hangs rags

on the trees which shade the village shrine, as a charm to bring health

and good luck. These rag shrines are to be found all over the country,

and are generally known as Chithariyâ or Chithraiyâ Bhavânî, "Our Lady

of Tatters." So in the Panjâb the trees on which rags are hung are

called Lingrî Pîr or the rag saint. [336] The same custom prevails at

various Himâlayan shrines and at the Vastra Harana or sacred tree at

Brindaban near Mathura, which is now invested with a special legend,

as commemorating the place where Krishna carried off the clothes of

the milkmaids when they were bathing, an incident which constantly

appears in both European and Indian folk-lore. [337] In Berâr a heap

of stones daubed with red and placed under a tree fluttering with

rags represents Chindiya Deo or "the Lord of Tatters," where, if you

present a rag in due season, you may chance to get new clothes. [338]

The practice of putting or tying rags from the person of the sick to a

tree, especially a banyan, cocoanut, or some thorny tree, is prevalent

in the Konkan, but not to such an extent as that of fixing nails or

tying bottles to trees. In the Konkan, when a person is suffering from

a spirit disease, the exorcist takes the spirit away from the sick

man and fixes it in a tree by thrusting a nail in it. We have already

had an example of this treatment of ghosts by the Baiga. Sometimes he

catches the spirit of the disease in a bottle and ties the bottle to

a tree. [339] In a well-known story of the Arabian Knights the Jinn

is shut up in a bottle under the seal of the Lord Solomon.

There have been various explanations of this custom of hanging rags

on trees. [340] One is that they are offerings to the local deity

of the tree. Mr. Gomme quotes an instance of an Irishman who made a

similar offering with the following invocation: "To St. Columbkill--I

offer up this button, a bit o' the waistband o' my own breeches,

an' a taste o' my wife's petticoat, in remembrance of us havin' made

this holy station; an' may they rise up in glory to prove it for us

in the last day."

He "points to the undoubted nature of the offerings and their service,

in the identification of their owners--a service which implies their

power to bear witness in spirit-land to the pilgrimage of those

who deposited them during lifetime at the sacred well." Some of the

Indian evidence seems to show that these rags are really offerings

to the sacred tree. Thus, Colonel Tod [341] describes the trees

in a sacred grove in Râjputâna as decorated with shreds of various

coloured cloth, "offerings of the traveller to the forest divinity for

protection against evil spirits." This usage often merges into actual

tree-worship, as among the Mirzapur Patâris, who, when fever prevails,

tie a cotton string which has never touched water round the trunk of

a Pîpal tree, and hang rags from the branches. So, the Kharwârs have

a sacred Mahua tree, known as the Byâhi Mahua or "Mahua of marriage,"

on which threads are hung at marriages. At almost any holy place women

may be seen winding a cotton thread round the trunk of a Pîpal tree.

Another explanation is that the hanging of the rags is done with the

object of transferring a disease to some one else. Professor Rhys

suggests that a distinction is to be drawn between the rags hung on

trees or near a well and the pins, which are so commonly thrown into

the water itself. It is noteworthy that in some cases the pins are

replaced by buttons, or even by copper coins. The rags, on the other

hand, he thinks may be vehicles of the disease. To this Mr. Hartland

objects--"If this opinion were correct, one would expect to find both

ceremonies performed by the same patient at the same well; he would

throw in the pin and also place the rag on the bush, or wherever its

proper place might be. The performance of both ceremonies is, however,

I think, exceptional. Where the pin or button is dropped into the well,

the patient does not trouble about the rag, and vice versâ."

He goes on to say that "the curious detail mentioned by Mrs. Evans in

reference to the rags tied on the bushes at St. Elian's well--namely,

that they must be tied with wool--points to a still further degradation

of the rite in the case we are now examining. Probably at one time

rags were used and simply tied to the sacred tree with wool. What may

have been the reason for using wool remains to be discovered. But it

is easy to see how, if the reason were lost, the wool might be looked

on as the essential condition of the due performance of the ceremony,

and so continue after the disuse of the rags."

In reference to this it may be noted that there is some reason to

believe that the sheep was a sacred animal. In Western India high-caste

Hindus wear blankets after bathing. The Kunbis use a mixture of

sheep's milk with lime juice and opium as a cure for diarrhoea. The

Parheyas of Bengal used to wash their houses with sheep's dung to

scare spirits. And the use of woollen clothes in certain rites is

prescribed in the current ritual.

Mr. Hartland is inclined to think that the rags represent entire

articles of clothing which were at an earlier time deposited, and on

the analogy of the habit of the witch of getting hold of some part of

the body, such as nail-cuttings and so on, by which she may get the

owner into her power, the rags were meant to connect the worshipper

with the deity. "In like manner my shirt or stocking, or a rag to

represent it, placed upon a sacred bush or thrust into a sacred well,

my name written on the walls of a temple, a stone or pellet from

my hand cast upon a sacred image or a sacred cairn, is thenceforth

in constant contact with divinity; and the effluence of divinity,

reaching and involving it, will reach and involve me. In this way I

may be permanently united with the god."

It is quite possible that some or all of the ideas thus given may

have resulted in the present practice in India.

Disease Transference.

Disease is also transferred in an actual physical way. Thus, in

Ireland, a charm or curse is left on a gate or stile, and the first

healthy person who passes through will, it is believed, have the

disease transferred to him. So, in Scotland, if a child is affected

with the whooping cough, it is taken into the land of another laird,

and there the disease is left. [342] Similarly, in Northern India,

one way of transferring disease is to fill a pot with flowers and

rice and bury it in a path, with a stone to cover it. Whoever touches

this is supposed to contract the disease. This is known as Chalauwa,

which means "passing on" the malady. This goes on daily in Upper

India. Often when walking in a bâzâr in the early morning, you will

see a little pile of earth decorated with flowers in the middle of

the road. This usually contains some of the scabs or scales from

the body of a small-pox patient, which are placed there in the hope

that someone may touch them, contract the malady and thus relieve the

sufferer. In 1885 it was officially reported that in Cawnpur small-pox

had greatly increased from the practice of placing these scales on

the roads. At the instance of Government the matter was investigated,

and it was found that in the early stages of the disease, the Diuli

ceremony is performed at cross-roads; and that at a later period the

crusts from smallpox patients mixed with curdled milk and cocoanut

juice are carried to the temple or platform of the small-pox goddess

and are dedicated to her. [343]

One morning, in a village near Agra, I came by chance on two old women

fiercely quarrelling. On making inquiries, I found that one of them

had placed some small-pox crusts from her child on her neighbour's

threshold. The people agreed that this was a wicked act, as it

displayed special animus against a particular person. If they had

been placed on the cross-road, and any one had been unlucky enough

to touch them and contract the disease, it would not have mattered

much--that was the will of God.

Some time ago an indigo planter, near Benares, was astonished by a

respectable native friend asking the loan of one of his geese. On

inquiry he ascertained that his friend's son was suffering from bowel

complaint, and that he had been advised by a native physician to get

a goose, place it in the boy's bed, and that the disease would be

communicated to the bird, with the result of curing the patient. This

remedy was known in Italy. One of the prescriptions of Marcellus runs:

[344] "To those who are suffering from a colic. Let them fasten a

live duck to their stomachs, thus the disease will pass from the

man to the duck, and the duck will die." In the same way when any

one wants to set their neighbour's household at variance, a quill

of a porcupine, which is supposed to be a quarrelsome animal, is

thrown over the wall. On this principle in Italy a short and simple

method of setting people by the ears is to buy some of the herb

Discordia and throw it into a house, when the result is sure to be

a vendetta. [345] In the Indian Hills, in case of illness a stake is

driven down into the earth where four roads meet, and certain drugs

and grains are buried close by, which are speedily disinterred and

eaten by crows. This gives immediate relief to the sufferer. [346]

Here the idea apparently is, that the disease is transferred to the

crow, a sacred bird, and in close communication with the spirits of

the sainted dead. So in cases of cattle disease, a buffalo's skull,

a small lamb, fire in a pan, vessels of butter and milk, wisps of

grass and branches of the Siras tree (Acacia speciosa) are thrown

over the boundary of another village and are supposed to carry the

disease demon with them. This often causes a riot. [347] In the same

way, killing buffaloes and putting their heads in the next village

removes cholera, and by pouring oil on grain and burning it, the

disease flies elsewhere in the smoke. This seems to be one of the

principles which underlie the general practice of fire sacrifice.

Scapegoats.

This brings us to the regular scapegoat. At shrines of Sîtalâ, the

small-pox goddess, sweepers bring round a small pig. Contributions are

called for from the worshippers, and when the value of the animal is

made up, it is driven by the people into the jungle, pursued by an

excited crowd, who believe that the creature has taken the disease

with it.

General Sleeman gives an excellent example of this custom. [348]

"More than four-fifths of the city and cantonments of Sâgar had

been affected by a violent influenza, which, commencing with a

violent cough, was followed by a fever and in some cases terminated

in death. I had an application from the old Queen Dowager of Sâgar,

to allow of a noisy religious procession for the purpose of imploring

deliverance from this great calamity. The women and children in this

procession were to do their utmost to add to the noise by raising

their voices in psalmody, beating upon their brass pans and pots

with all their might, and discharging firearms where they could

get them. Before the noisy crowd was to be driven a buffalo, which

had been purchased by general subscription, in order that every

family might participate in the merit. They were to follow it out

eight miles, where it was to be turned out for anyone who would take

it. If the animal returned, the disease must return with it, and the

ceremony be performed over again. I was requested to intimate the

circumstances to the officer commanding the troops in cantonments,

in order that the noise they intended to make might not excite any

alarm and bring down upon them the visit of the soldiery. It was,

however, subsequently determined that the animal should be a goat,

and he was driven before the crowd. Accordingly, I have on several

occasions been requested to allow of such noisy ceremonies in cases of

epidemics, and the confidence the people feel in their efficacy has,

no doubt, a good effect."

Demons Scared by Noise.

This incidentally leads to the consideration of the principle that evil

spirits are scared by noise. In the first place this appears largely

to account for the use of bells in religious worship. The tolling of

the bells keeps off the evil spirits which throng round any place where

the worship of the regular gods is being performed. Milton speaks of--

"The bellman's drowsy charm;

To bless the doors from nightly harm." [349]

So, the passing bell protects the departing soul as it flies through

the air from demoniacal influence. As Grose writes [350]--"The passing

bell was anciently rung for two purposes; one to bespeak the prayers

of all good Christians for a soul just departing; the other, to drive

away the evil spirits who stood at the bed's foot, and about the house,

ready to seize their prey, or at least to molest and terrify the soul

in its passage; but by the ringing of that bell (for Durandus informs

us evil spirits are much afraid of bells), they were kept aloof,

and the soul, like a hunted hare, gained the start, or had what is by

sportsmen called 'law.'" The keening at an Irish wake is probably a

survival of the same custom. But Panjâbi Musalmâns have a prejudice

against beating a brass tray, as it is believed to disturb the dead,

who wake, supposing the Day of Judgment has arrived. [351]

Another fact which adds to the efficacy of bells for this purpose,

is that they are made of metal, which, as we shall see elsewhere,

is a well-known scarer of demons.

Hence in Indian temples the use of the bell, or resounding shell

trumpet, is universal. The intention is to call the divinity and wake

him from his sleep, so that he may consume the offerings prepared for

him by his votaries, and to scare vagrant ghosts, who would otherwise

partake of the meal. On the same principle the drum is, as we have

seen, a sacred instrument. The same is the case with bells. The Todas

of Madras worship Hiriya Deva, whose representative is the sacred

buffalo bell, which hangs from the neck of the finest buffalo in

the sacred herd. [352] The Gonds have also elevated the bell into

a deity in the form of Ghâgarapen, and one special class of their

devil priests, the Ojhyâls, always wear bells. [353] So, the Patâri

priest in Mirzapur and many classes of ascetics throughout the country

carry bells and rattles made of iron, which they move as they walk to

scare demons. Iron, it need hardly be said, is most efficacious for

this purpose. This also accounts for the music played at weddings,

when the young pair are in special danger from the attacks of evil

spirits. At many rites it is the rule to clap the hands at a special

part of the ritual with the same purpose. The Râêdâsi Chamârs and

many other people shout or sing loudly as they remove a corpse for

burial or cremation, and there are few magistrates in India who have

not been asked for leave by some happy father to allow guns to be

fired from his house-top to drive evil spirits from the mother and

her child. Mr. Campbell records that they fire a gun over the back

of a sick cow in Scotland with the same intention. [354]

Disease Scapegoats.

To return to the use of the scape animal as a means of expelling

disease. In Berâr, if cholera is very severe, the people get a

scapegoat or young buffalo, but in either case it must be a female and

as black as possible, the latter condition being based on the fact that

Yamarâja, the lord of death, uses such an animal as his vehicle. They

then tie some grain, cloves and red lead (all demon scarers) on its

back and turn it out of the village. A man of the gardener caste takes

the goat outside the boundary, and it is not allowed to return. [355]

So among the Korwas of Mirzapur, when cholera begins, a black cock,

and when it is severe, a black goat, is offered by the Baiga at the

shrine of the village godling, and he then drives the animal off

in the direction of some other village. After it has gone a little

distance, the Baiga, who is protected from evil by virtue of his holy

office, follows it, kills it and eats it. Among the Patâris in cholera

epidemics the elders of the village and the Ojha wizard feed a black

fowl with grain and drive it beyond the boundary, ordering it to take

the plague with it. If the resident of another village finds such

a fowl and eats it, cholera comes with it into his village. Hence,

when disease prevails, people are very cautious about meddling with

strange fowls. When these animals are sent off, a little oil, red lead,

and a woman's forehead spangle are put upon it, a decoration which,

perhaps, points to a survival of an actual sacrifice to appease the

demon of disease. When such an animal comes into a village, the Baiga

takes it to the local shrine, worships it and then passes it on quietly

outside the boundary. Among the Kharwârs, when rinderpest attacks the

cattle, they take a black cock, put some red lead on its head, some

antimony on its eyes, a spangle on its forehead, and fixing a pewter

bangle to its leg, let it loose, calling to the disease--"Mount on

the fowl and go elsewhere into the ravines and thickets; destroy the

sin!" This dressing up of the scape animal in a woman's ornaments

and trinkets is almost certainly a relic of some grosser form of

expiation in which a human being was sacrificed. We have another

survival of the same practice in the Panjâb custom, which directs

that when cholera prevails, a man of the Chamâr or currier caste,

one of the hereditary menials, should be branded on the buttocks and

turned out of the village. [356]

A curious modification of the ordinary scape animal, of which it

is unnecessary to give any more instances, comes from Kulu. [357]

"The people occasionally perform an expiatory ceremony with the

object of removing ill-luck or evil influence, which is supposed to

be brooding over the hamlet. The godling (Deota) of the place is,

as usual, first consulted through his disciple (Chela) and declares

himself also under the influence of a charm and advises a feast,

which is given in the evening at the temple. Next morning a man

goes round from house to house, a creel on his back, into which

each family throws all sorts of odds and ends, parings of nails,

pinches of salt, bits of old iron, handfuls of grain, etc. The whole

community then turns out and perambulates the village, at the same

time stretching an unbroken thread round it, fastened to pegs at the

four corners. This done, the man with the creel carries it down to

the river bank and empties the contents therein, and a sheep, fowl,

and some small animals are sacrificed on the spot. Half the sheep is

the property of the man who dares to carry the creel, and he is also

entertained from house to house on the following night."

It is obvious that this exactly corresponds with the old English

custom of sin-eating. Thus we read: [358]--"Within the memory of our

fathers, in Shropshire, when a person died, there was a notice given

to an old sire (for so they called him), who presently repaired to the

place where the deceased lay, and stood before the door of the house,

when some of the family came out and furnished him with a cricket on

which he sat down facing the door. Then they gave him a groat, which

he put in his pocket; a crust of bread, which he ate; and a full bowl

of ale, which he drank off at a draught. After this he got out from

the cricket and pronounced, with a composed gesture, the ease and

rest of the soul departed, for which he would pawn his own soul."

There are other Indian customs based on the same principle. [359]

Thus, in the Ambâla District a Brâhman named Nathu stated "that he had

eaten food out of the hand of the Râja of Bilâspur, after his death,

and that in consequence he had for the space of one year been placed

on the throne at Bilâspur. At the end of the year he had been given

presents, including a village, and had then been turned out of Bilâspur

territory and forbidden apparently to return. Now he is an outcast

among his co-religionists, as he has eaten food out of the dead man's

hand." So at the funeral ceremonies of the late Rânî of Chamba, it is

said that rice and ghi were placed in the hands of the corpse, which

a Brâhman consumed on payment of a fee. The custom has given rise to a

class of outcast Brâhmans in the Hill States about Kângra. In another

account of the funeral rites of the Rânî of Chamba, it is added that

after the feeding of the Brâhman, as already described, "a stranger,

who had been caught beyond Chamba territory, was given the costly

wrappings round the corpse, a new bed and a change of raiment, and

then told to depart, and never to show his face in Chamba again." At

the death of a respectable Hindu the clothes and other belongings of

the dead man are, in the same way, given to the Mahâbrâhman or funeral

priest. This seems to be partly based on the principle that he, by

using these articles, passes them on for the use of the deceased in

the land of death; but the detestation and contempt felt for this class

of priest may be, to some extent, based on the idea that by the use of

these articles he takes upon his head the sins of the dead man. [360]

Again, writing of the customs prevailing among the Râjput tribes

of Oudh which practise female infanticide, Gen. Sleeman writes:

[361]--"The infant is destroyed in the room where it was born,

and there buried. The room is then plastered over with cow-dung,

and on the thirteenth day after, the village or family priest must

cook and eat his food in this room. He is provided with wood, ghi,

barley, rice, and sesamum. He boils the rice, barley, and sesamum

in a brass vessel, throws the ghi over them when they are dressed,

and eats the whole. This is considered as a Homa or burnt offering,

and by eating it in that place, the priest is supposed to take the

whole Hatya or sin upon himself, and to cleanse the family from it."

So, in Central India the Gonds in November assemble at the shrine of

Gansyâm Deo to worship him. Sacrifices of fowls and spirits, or a pig,

occasionally, according to the size of the village, are offered, and

Gansyâm Deo is said to descend on the head of one of the worshippers,

who is suddenly seized with a kind of fit, and after staggering

about for a while, rushes off into the wildest jungles, where the

popular theory is that, if not pursued and brought back, he would

inevitably die of starvation, and become a raving lunatic. As it is,

after being brought back by one or two men, he does not recover his

senses for one or two days. The idea is that one man is thus singled

out as a scapegoat for the sins of the rest of the village.

In the final stage we find the scape animal merging into a regular

expiatory sacrifice. Other examples will be given in another connection

of the curious customs, like that of the Irish and Manxland rites of

hunting the wren, which are almost certainly based on the principle

of a sacrifice. Here it may be noted that at one of their festivals,

the Bhûmij used to drive two male buffaloes into a small enclosure,

while the Râja and his suite used to witness the proceedings. They

first discharged arrows at the animals, and the tormented and enraged

beasts fell to and gored each other, while arrow after arrow was

discharged. When the animals were past doing very much mischief, the

people rushed in and hacked them to pieces with axes. This custom is

now discontinued. [362]

Similarly in the Hills, at the Nand Ashtamî, or feast in honour of

Nanda, the foster father of Krishna, a buffalo is specially fed with

sweetmeats, and, after being decked with a garland round the neck, is

worshipped. The headman of the village then lays a sword across its

neck and the beast is let loose, when all proceed to chase it, pelt

it with stones, and hack it with knives until it dies. It is curious

that this savage rite is carried out in connection with the worship

of the Krishna Cultus, in which blood sacrifice finds no place. [363]

In the same part of the country the same rite is performed after a

death, on the analogy of the other instances, which have been already

quoted. When a man dies, his relations assemble at the end of the year

in which the death occurred, and the nearest male relative dances

naked (another instance of the nudity charm, to which reference has

been already made) with a drawn sword in his hand, to the music of a

drum, in which he is assisted by others for a whole day and night. The

following day a buffalo is brought and made intoxicated with Bhang

or Indian hemp, and spirits, and beaten to death with sticks, stones

and weapons.

So, the Hill Bhotiyas have a feast in honour of the village god, and

towards evening they take a dog, make him drunk with spirits and hemp,

and kill him with sticks and stones, in the belief that no disease

or misfortune will visit the village during the year. [364] At the

periodical feast in honour of the mountain goddess of the Himâlaya,

Nandâ Devî, it is said that a four-horned goat is invariably born and

accompanies the pilgrims. When unloosed on the mountain, the sacred

goat suddenly disappears and as suddenly reappears without its head,

and then furnishes food for the party. The head is supposed to be

consumed by the goddess herself, who by accepting it with its load

of sin, washes away the transgressions of her votaries.