CHAPTER I.

[Illustration: ORNAMENTS WORN BY HINDOO FEMALES.

1. _Tre no lē_, } 2. _Cambălā_, }

3. _Conth măla_, } Necklaces. 5. _Phoomka_, } Worn in the Ear.

4. _Bala_, worn round the Wrist. 6. _Bajoo_, worn over the Arm.

DRAWN BY MR. GANGOOLY.]

LIFE AND RELIGION

OF

THE HINDOOS.

WITH

A SKETCH

OF

MY LIFE AND EXPERIENCE.

BY

JOGUTH CHUNDER GANGOOLY

(BAPTIZED PHILIP).

BOSTON:

CROSBY, NICHOLS, LEE AND COMPANY,

117 WASHINGTON STREET.

1860.

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1860, by

CROSBY, NICHOLS, LEE & CO.,

in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the District

of Massachusetts.

University Press, Cambridge:

Stereotyped and Printed by Welch, Bigelow, & Co.

EDITOR’S PREFACE.

Having suggested to the writer of the following pages that he should

do what some who are more competent, and a great many who are far less

competent than himself are doing daily, viz. write a book, I brought

upon myself the office of revising his manuscript, and supervising

its publication. It was a particular sort of a book which I proposed

to him, and as he has come so near to the ideal which I had of what

he might write, I have taken care to leave it as he wrote it, with no

betterments and no injuries received while the manuscript was in my

hands. Something of the interest of Mr. Gangooly’s composition might

have been expected to lie in its style and in his peculiar modes of

expression. So scrupulous have I been to allow the whole work to

stand as his own, that I have seldom ventured to correct even his

occasional slips of grammar, and have in no case altered his idiom.

The reader will hardly fail to notice how charming and attractive the

contents of these pages are made by the natural eloquence, the hearty

frankness, and the wonderful power of discernment of this very young

and marvellously endowed Hindoo convert to Christ. The perusal of his

little book will deepen the impression made upon the minds of a large

number of most intelligent persons who had any intercourse with him,

that his experience has been profoundly interesting, that he possesses

genius and many signal qualities of character, and that he is fitted to

accomplish a most serious and useful work in life, if the circumstances

hereafter appointed for him shall be propitious, and if he shall remain

steadfast in his Christian purposes and zeal.

I have leave to print here the following letter containing information,

which I asked for my own personal satisfaction, from a most faithful

friend of Mr. Gangooly, to whom, as will appear in the closing pages

(as well as from the Preface) of this volume, the latter expresses

so much gratitude for kindness in his home, and for service in the

training of his mind.

REV. GEORGE E. ELLIS, D. D.:--

MY DEAR SIR,--

I cheerfully comply with your request to give you some facts

relating to the education of Mr. Gangooly while in this

country, and also a brief notice of his opinions, together with

a few impressions of his mind and character. I do this the

more readily, because Mr. Gangooly was so much engaged with

preparations for his return home as to be unable to write as

fully, in the “Narrative of his Religious Experience,” of his

studies here and his opinions, as he had intended.

Mr. Gangooly came to this country expressly to prepare himself

as a Christian missionary. The plan or extent of his future

labors were not distinctly apprehended at the time of his

arrival, and the few words he uttered in the Bedford Street

Church, in which he said he had come to learn more of the

Christian religion, so that on his return he might be better

enabled to instruct his countrymen, express his general purpose.

This has been gaining in strength and breadth, as his mind has

enlarged its knowledge, and as his character has unfolded under

positive Christian influences. On his arrival, though it was

evident that he was a young man of quick powers of perception,

and unusual aptness for learning a new language, yet he was, as

it were, only a child thrown upon wholly untried experiences.

Indeed, after he had been in this country eight months,--which

was the time when he became a resident of my family, and was put

under my instruction,--he was even then as ignorant of many of

our conventional customs as a child. Everything was so new and

strange to him. The details of social life, modes of thought,

forms of speech,--in fact, the whole structure of society,--and

our political and religious institutions were so unlike those of

Bengal, that he seemed to live in another world. Notwithstanding

this, he conformed to his new social conditions with remarkable

adaptation, and fell into the routine of custom with quickness

and ease. He rarely made the same mistake a second time.

It was this entire difference between his previous training,

his race, mental habitudes, and social surroundings and our

own, which made the question of his education a difficult one.

What should we do with this young Hindoo? He had not come to

be Americanized. He did not propose to occupy our pulpits as a

permanent minister, or to address those who had grown up with

our habits of thought, traditional convictions, or peculiarities

of race and nation. He came to prepare himself to teach and

preach Christianity to the people in India, and to translate the

fresh and vigorous ideas of a rational Christian faith into his

native tongue. As yet he had to learn more fully the English

language. A recent convert, he had all the fresh enthusiasm of

a neophyte. Thus far he had learned chiefly from Christ, and

had caught glimpses of the moral elevation and spiritual beauty

of his religion as seen in the Gospels, or idealized by his

own vivid Oriental imagination. He had not fully seen the wide

gulf which separates the pure religion of Christ and that which

is so often taught and lived by imperfect disciples. He was

wholly unfitted to enter intelligently, all at once, into those

intellectual discussions which arise from the conflict between

established belief and prevailing doubt. In the first stages of

his Christian experience, it might permanently injure him to be

exposed to that destructive and critical tone of thought which

is a result of the principles of free inquiry, and which is

so rife in our colleges and theological schools. These various

considerations made the case of this young man an exceptional

one. The Executive Committee of the Unitarian Association, who

had the direction of his education, could not be guided by the

wisdom of experience. His coming was itself an experiment, and

the case had no precedent. What then was to be done? In view

of all the facts, it was decided, that the early period of Mr.

Gangooly’s studies should be under the direction and care of

persons who should act in the twofold capacity of parent and

instructor. That he might have the benefit of the rich result

of different minds, he recited to various clergymen, and was

thus brought under the influence of their scholarship and piety.

It also, I believe, formed a part of the original plan of his

education that he should finish his preparatory studies at one

of our theological schools. But the brief period of his stay in

this country, and the absorption of his time in the practical

work connected with his mission, prevented the execution of

this part of the original design beyond the attendance of a

few lectures at the Divinity School in Cambridge. To a great

degree he was his own instructor, and he gained more by the

independent action of his own mind than by the direct efforts of

his teachers.

Throughout the two years of his sojourn he kept constantly in

view the great object of his life. To gain efficiency for this,

he gave more attention to the working of Christianity among men

and in institutions, than to the study of books. His mind has

been directed more to religion as expressed in practical life,

than as speculative thought embodied in theology. He came to

study man under a civilization, institutions, race, literature,

and religion, wholly unlike those where he had lived, and the

course he pursued was better fitted to make him a missionary

than a scholar. The chief of his studies was the New Testament.

To the Gospels he gave a more systematic reading than to

anything else. But even here he manifested the same intellectual

features which universally characterized him. He was more

careful to get at the thought of the writer than to dwell on

the minute distinctions of textual philology. His Oriental mind

aided him in his Scripture studies, and he vividly apprehended

the local allusions and the general costume of the thought in

the New Testament. To this study of the New Testament he added

that of the evidences of Christianity. His time did not permit

him to enter upon this subject as fully as was desirable. Beside

these he took a rapid survey of portions of ecclesiastical

history, enough perhaps to give him an idea of the relation

which the history of the Church holds to the vital truths of the

Gospel. These, together with writing, were the chief subjects of

study. As one of the most important parts of his future labors

would be that of a translator, much of his study had reference

to this. He never wrote what are called compositions,--never

had assigned him set themes. His mind was so enriched with new

impressions, and his feelings were so aroused by ever-varying

scenes, that he never was at loss for a subject. His mind was

full, and in his writing he gave utterance to some existing

thought or emotion. To have adopted any other method would

have endangered the quaintness, vigor, and natural freshness

of his style. When we remember that he has spoken English but

a little more than two years, the mastery he has gained over

our language, and his power of expressing his thoughts will be

evident to every reader of his book.

It is more difficult to speak with accuracy of a young man’s

opinions, especially if he be a foreigner. The faculty of

expressing these with clearness and distinctness is the result

of high mental training, or original power of intellectual

discrimination. Still, Mr. Gangooly’s general religious views

existed in his mind as clear and definite ideas. In his

reception of Christianity he has been influenced chiefly by the

internal evidences. The superiority and the sanctity of the

Saviour’s life and instructions have taken the deepest hold of

his convictions. The miracles recorded in the Gospels never had

much weight with him as grounds of evidence. Often he said that

it would be useless to urge them--as a proof of the Christian

religion--on the attention of the intelligent Hindoo. This state

of mind did not arise so much from a philosophical difficulty,

as from the fact that wonderful narratives were wrought into the

superstitions of his own people, and that he associated the two

together. His general theory on this subject was the wellknown

axiom, that the miracle must be tested by the Truth connected

with it, and not the truth by the Miracle.

We can also trace the same influence on his mind in his estimate

of the Jewish Scriptures. He became a Christian directly through

Christ. He passed at once from Brahminism into the Christian

Church, and had listened to the voice of Jesus before he knew

of Moses. He was thus led, I think, to undervalue the positive

side of Judaism as a religious faith. With a caste of mind

strongly rationalistic, he accepted the truths of Christ as

those in harmony with the conclusions of the rational faculties.

He believed that Christianity was a rational religion. But

it was more to him than a philosophy,--it was a Divine life.

Coexisting with his rational bent was a deep religiousness. The

spirituality of the Gospel and the moral beauty of Christ’s

character made a deep impression on his heart. His piety had

its roots in trust and love. The affectionateness which he

exhibited in his constant and always abiding love for his

mother, he carried into his religion. In his sadness, sorrow,

and temptations, he lived as a child in the presence of a

Father, and in his New Testament readings or in conversations

on his future plans he would give utterance to the loftiest

sentiments of piety. Indeed, piety with him is stronger as a

sentiment than as a principle. This I apprehend is true of all

Christian converts among the Hindoos. In the darkest hour of

disappointment or of lonely home-sickness, his face would light

up with a smile as he gave utterance to the words of trust. He

reposed with unfaltering confidence in the Divine Providence.

Called, as we all are, to struggle against weakness, error, and

sin, as he grew into a diviner knowledge of Christ, he increased

in strength. He often spoke of his need of Christ. It was the

Saviour who satisfied the deepest yearnings of his nature.

He expressed this after reading the “Experience of Theodore

Parker.” Although on many points he was in intellectual sympathy

with Mr. Parker, he differed from him in his estimate of Christ.

He often spoke of the Saviour as his absolute teacher, and often

spoke with deep feeling of the value of Christ’s invitation to

sinners, “Come unto me all ye that labor and are heavy laden,

and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn of me,

for I am meek and lowly in heart, and ye shall find rest unto

your souls; for my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

He laid great stress on the doctrine of the simple Unity of

God. As the Hindoo Trinity was associated in his mind with the

superstitions of his old faith, he always had the same feeling

with respect to the Christian Trinity. As he emancipated himself

from idolatry by a natural law of thought, he seized hold of

the truth of the simple unity of God, and clung to it with

great tenacity of conviction. In his mind Unitarianism, that

is, the idea of the Oneness of God, was synonymous with that of

Christianity. He left the idols of men’s creating, and clung to

the doctrine of the one living and true God.

But the most interesting feature of his life here was to see

the power of the Gospel, as a spiritual force, working out

moral results in his character. He came among us the creature

of impulse. This in the early period of his sojourn here led

him into hastiness of action. His impulsiveness was the weak

side of his character. But through the influence of prayer,

and the spirit of Christ strengthening him, he was enabled

to overcome this defect to a great degree. At first, like a

child, the desire and the effort to gratify the desire followed

each other without reflection intervening. But he learned

through experience the important lesson of self-control.

He had great truthfulness. This is the more remarkable,

because lying is a universal sin among the Bengali. With the

knowledge of this national vice, and with a scrutiny which

sometimes ran into an unwarranted and ungenerous suspicion,

and in the most confidential intercourse for a year, I cannot

recall a single instance of wilful prevarication. He also

blended great simplicity with a sagacity which bordered on

cunning. This was so evident that often he would say he had

the cunning of the serpent with the gentleness of the dove.

It was the union of these opposites, in connection with his

impulsiveness and ignorance of our conventional prudence, which

gave his friends solicitude. While they had confidence in his

character, they feared he might be misunderstood from his

apparent indiscretions. How few of our own youth are enabled

to go through the various exposures of life and come out with

Christian victory! It is therefore no disparagement of our young

Hindoo brother to confess to a feeling of deep solicitude lest

in the moral dangers of our society he might have been lured

from the Christian path. But the longer he remained the stronger

he became, until armed with the spirit of a Christian faith and

devotion he was consecrated for his life-work.

Sir John Bowring, in a speech at the Unitarian Collation in

London, last May, in reply to a sentiment,--that Christianity

may gain new triumphs in heathen lands,--gave some very

valuable suggestions as to the best methods of Christianizing

the heathen. The report of his speech as given in the London

Inquirer is well worth the consideration of every missionary.

Any one who will read the remarks of the British statesman,

and the Farewell Address of Mr. Gangooly, on Sunday, June 10,

in Boston, will see in many respects the striking similarity

of the views of both speakers in their idea of the best method

of approach to the Hindoo mind. Mr. Bowring says: “The result

of my observation was that there was everywhere a vast deal

of truth to respect, and everywhere a vast deal of truth to

love, and if we went forth with a desire to discover that with

which we could sympathize, and a disposition to recognize that

there was much that was excellent in the religion of others, we

should the more easily prepare the way for the advancement of

our religion.” As an illustration he cites Brahminism, and uses

thoughts very like those of Mr. Gangooly’s Address. Again, in

the same speech, Sir John adds: “If the missionaries, however,

recognized that there was much in their books--(i.e. those

of the Brahmins and the Buddhists)--that was attractive and

lovable, they would win the affections of those people, who

would easily be led into argument. If the Unitarians sent forth

missionaries, as he hoped they would at some future period, he

was convinced they would not meet with so many difficulties

as the Orthodox missionaries met at every step. There were

many absurdities, and a recognition of a vast deal that was

abominable in the religious systems of heathenism; but at the

same time there were great truths, and if we sympathized with

these we should obtain greater success than had hitherto been

achieved. It was certainly our duty, as far as we are able, to

enter as harbingers of civilization, and as teachers of wisdom

and virtue, into regions which had hitherto been but imperfectly

explored.” This is the language of an intelligent observer, who

has spent many years among the Oriental nations. He testifies

to the transitions of society which are going on in India, and

expresses the rational ground for belief that the times are

propitious for carrying there the light of Christianity. I

allude to this here so fully because his views of the state of

India, and his opinion of the best methods of missionary effort,

coincide with those entertained by Mr. Gangooly, and confirm

the justness of the latter’s conclusions. Indeed, if there is

any striking peculiarity in Mr. Gangooly, it is a remarkable

tact in adapting himself to the state of mind of the persons

whom he addresses. His perception of character is rapid and

unusually correct, and he has the eclectic power of drawing from

a system its excellences. In his revolt from his old faith he

still discriminates between original Brahminism and the present

effete religion and superstitious idolatry of India. Here again

his conversations on this point were in striking agreement with

the opinions of Sir John Bowring.

But I have already taken up too much of your time. I have

not exaggerated my estimate of the mind and character of Mr.

Gangooly. From the time he first came to my house to the present

hour, his mind has ripened and his character gathered up

strength. He returns to his home to begin the fiery struggle.

His moral courage is greater than his physical, but he goes with

the conviction that he is in the hands of Divine Providence.

If his life is spared, I can see no reasonable ground to doubt

that he will be an instrument of good to his darkened and

superstitious people. But the future belongs to God. He has

found a host of sympathizing friends. To carry out his plans he

will need the aid of our prayers and active co-operation. That

he deserves these I have not the shadow of a doubt; that he

ought to have them is my firm and deep conviction.

Truly yours,

S. W. BUSH.

Medfield, July 20, 1860.

Mr. Gangooly’s manuscript was put into my hands just as he was about

leaving the country for England, on his way home to India. Had he been

near me I should have been glad to have consulted him about some points

of his composition, especially about the spelling of some words. It

will be observed that his orthography in the spelling of words of his

own language familiar to us is peculiar.

It was his wish and expectation that his Sketch of Religion and Life in

India, and his account of his own Religious Experience should appear

separately, each as a distinct publication. Perhaps, in view of the

sectarian position which he will be understood as assuming in the

latter piece, it might have been better that his intentions should have

been carried out. But his friends and the publishers have concluded

to pursue a different course, chiefly because each composition helps

to illustrate the other, while the two together barely reach to the

dimensions of a book.

I have been requested by friends of Mr. Gangooly to make proper

reference here to some most unworthy and disgraceful remarks in

three or more of the Calvinistic and Baptist newspapers--“religious

journals,” so called--about the conversion, the mission, and the

objects of this Hindoo disciple. I have had these papers before me, and

have noted the gibes and sneers which they have cast, in the interest

of a poor and discomfited bigotry, upon the personal character and

history and the aims of an unoffending and thoroughly earnest believer

of the Gospel of Christ, who has come to it through a process unlike

that which for methods and results they approve. But I have not

thought that it would help the cause of Christian charity, or be in

harmony with the beautiful spirit exhibited in the pages following,

for me to name those “religious papers,” or to extract their offensive

matter. The harm they can do is steadily, year by year, becoming

more circumscribed, as the readers for whose poor entertainment or

“edification” they are edited form a proportionately smaller and

smaller portion of our intelligent communities, and have an equally

diminished importance or influence in giving a tone to the religion

of the time. If this book should fall into the hands of any of those

readers whose sectarian journals have lavished their abuse or ridicule

upon its author, while it will be sure to engage their interest for

him, it may also soften some of their own prejudices.

G. E. E.

CONTENTS.

LIFE AND RELIGION OF THE HINDOOS.

PAGE

PREFACE xxvii

BOOK I.

CHAPTER I.

Hindoo Caste.--Its Origin, Elements, Division, Subdivision,

Strength, and Influence on the People. 1

CHAPTER II.

The Birth.--Distribution of Presents.--Writing on the

Forehead.--The Feast of Eight Peas.--The Day of

Purification, etc. 13

CHAPTER III.

Education.--Sanscrith.--Chalk in the Hand.--Patshata, the

Teacher.--The Discipline in the School. 18

CHAPTER IV.

The Second Birth.--Brahmun Consecrated Thread.--Discipline

and Privileges of the Brahmun’s Life. 27

CHAPTER V.

The Marriage.--Polygamy.--Koolyn and Moulick.--Marriage.

--Age.--Selection.--Agreement.--Anointment.--Bachelor and

Maiden Feasts.--The Joy-Cakes.--Bridegroom starts for Bride’s

House.--Reception.--Discussion.--Twelve Friends Party.--Throwing

Stone Party.--Ceremony.--Good Interview.--Dining-Room

Plagues.--Distribution of Money.--Return.--Reception.--Bridal

Feast. 38

CHAPTER VI.

Death.--Boithornee.--Bathing.--Anointment.--Sho.--Burning

the Body.--Expression of Mourning.--Widows.--Shoratho. 55

CHAPTER VII.

Domestic Life, Education, etc. 65

BOOK II.

INTRODUCTION 80

CHAPTER I.

BOIS-AK, APRIL.

The New Year’s Day.--The Change of Account-Books.--Sacred

Choir.--Dedication of Water-Pitcher.--Women’s

Ceremony.--Way-side Hospitality.--The Idols in Water. 92

CHAPTER II.

JO-ISTO, MAY.

The Worship of Shus-ty.--Son-in-law invited. 102

CHAPTER III.

AUSH-ER, JUNE.

The Bath of Jogger-nauth.--The Worship of the River Gunga. 105

CHAPTER IV.

SHRA-BUN, JULY.

The Roth Jatra, or the Car of Jogger-nauth. 130

CHAPTER V.

VAUTHRO, AUGUST.

The Birthday of Krishno.--Fasting and Worship on the

Occasion.--Rejoicing of Nuntho; the Worship of

Monsha,--a Goddess whose Messengers are Serpents, Adders,

Toads, etc. 134

CHAPTER VI.

AUSHEEN, SEPTEMBER.

The Doorga pooja. 136

CHAPTER VII.

KARTIC, OCTOBER.

“The Lamp in the Air.”--The Goddess

Kallee.--Torch-Festival.--Red Marks on the Door-Post. 149

CHAPTER VIII.

OG-GROW-HAW-UN, NOVEMBER.

Juggur-dhartree and Rash-jatra. 155

CHAPTER IX.

POUS, DECEMBER. 157

CHAPTER X.

MAGH, JANUARY.

The Morning Bath.--Shoresh-sotee, or Muse. 158

CHAPTER XI.

FAL-GOON, FEBRUARY.

The Thole-jatha. 165

CHAPTER XII.

CHOITHRO, MARCH.

Churuck-pooja.--Hook Swinging. 167

MISCELLANEOUS 180

APPENDIX 185

A SKETCH OF MY LIFE AND EXPERIENCE.

PREFACE 195

CHAPTER I.

My Childhood and Education.--My Mother. 197

CHAPTER II.

My “Second Birth.”--Consecration for the Priesthood.--Religious

Training.--Death of my Father.--English Schools.--Zeal for

Idolatry. 210

CHAPTER III.

First Views of Christianity.--Prejudices.--Sermon on the

Mount.--New Testament.--Efforts and Struggles.--Comparison

of Hindoo and Christian Doctrines.--Conversion.--First

Zeal.--Perplexed by the Trinity.--Visit to a

Missionary.--Trinitarianism.--My Difficulties.--Deistical

Companions.--Arrival of Mr. Dall. 221

CHAPTER IV.

Why I became a Unitarian.--My own Reading and Study of the

Bible.--The Missionaries’ Doctrines. 256

CHAPTER V.

Interest in America.--Desire and Purpose to go.--My Friend

agrees to accompany me.--Ill Reports of America.--Horror of

Slavery.--My Friend fails me.--Will go alone.--Arrangements.--My

Mother.--Last Days at Home.--Voyage.--Arrival in

America.--My Experiences here. 270

FAREWELL! 301

THE

LIFE AND RELIGION

OF

THE HINDOOS.

TO THE REVEREND C. H. A. DALL.

MY DEAR FRIEND AND PASTOR:--

Desirous of acknowledging the precious religious instructions you have

imparted to me, and the blessings you are still bestowing on my beloved

country, I, in your name, respectfully present this small volume to

your countrymen, that they may know the manners, customs, and religious

institutions of that distant nation for whose regeneration you are

cheerfully spending the best part of your life, away from home and

family. That your Christian labors may be ever attended with success,

and your life be crowned with the smile of Heaven, is the heartfelt

prayer of

Your disciple,

JOGUTH CHUNDER GANGOOLY.

MEDFIELD, MASS., 27 October, 1859.

PREFACE.

The true knowledge of a thing is always desirable, whatever be its

nature,--soft or hard, sweet or bitter.

Arriving in this part of the world, I saw several works on India in

which their learned authors have attempted to treat of the manners,

customs, and religion of the Hindoos. It is no wonder that so

inquisitive, learned, and civilized a people as the American should

want to know all about Hindostan, the “Golden Orient,” which was the

dream of the enterprising Europeans of the thirteenth and fourteenth

centuries. But how far these books give the true account of the thing,

a Brahmun can well judge. A story is prevalent in this country, on

the authority of missionaries, to the effect that the Hindoo devotees

throw themselves under the heavy car of Juggernauth as sacrifices.

Again, wherever I go my friends ask me, “Do the Hindoo mothers throw

their babies into the Ganges now?”[1] and other questions of similar

purport. I am quite amused to see the little schoolboys and girls in

America, who seem to know more of India than I do. I never heard such

stories even from the lips of my grandmother. I admit, however, other

facts,--as the burning the Shotees, and Hook-swinging, etc.

It is very difficult for a foreigner to understand the life and

religion of the Hindoos, a people who, owing to their caste system,

have no social intercourse with the Jobuns (the people who are not

Hindoos). A foreigner spending a quarter of a century in a Hindoo

village, would understand little of their peculiarities. His attempt to

describe the Hindoo life is similar to that of sketching the buildings

within the walls of China. But the walls of superstition which guard

the Hindoo are impregnable, and stronger than those of China. Hence

the imperfect, and for the most part untrue accounts which European

and American travellers bring home to their friends. They tell merely

according as they see, but not what they know. Seeing the cabinets of

my friends here full of imperfect, broken, meaningless curiosities from

India, I thought of helping them with something true and substantial;

not what I picked up on “India’s coral strand,” but what I lived and

moved among from my infancy. And again, being a Brahmun of the highest

caste in the community, all the religious and social institutions

were open for my inspection, hence my information is genuine. Though

I desired very much on my arrival to write a book on Indian life and

religion, yet my imperfect knowledge of the English language prevented

me.

At the kind invitation of my valued friend, Rev. George E. Ellis, D.D.,

of Charlestown, Mass., I gave two lectures on India, before his people.

Hearing what I had to say, and finding it novel and of interest, he

desired me to give it to the public in the form of a book, and promised

his precious help in the enterprise. Thus the old desire, burning

unseen in my heart, grew stronger, and I started in the enterprise at

once.

I owe much to the kind aid of my friend and teacher, Rev. Solon W.

Bush, of Medfield, Mass., whose incessant help was my guide all the way

through. To enumerate the ways in which kindness was shown to me by

him, I would say, besides unfolding the peculiar idioms and arbitrary

rules of the English language, he put words to my lips, gave motion to

my pen, and offered to correct my manuscript.

My main object in writing this is to do India justice, and give to my

Christian friends some correct information respecting her manners,

customs, and religious institutions. Having a full knowledge of the

subjects, I have attempted to treat of them in full, explaining their

meaning and showing the occasion which gave their rise. I have divided

the book into two parts, the first giving a sketch of Hindoo life just

as it is, with all its peculiarities; and the second, of the Hindoo

Religion as observed by the friends at home in these days. To add a

part more, and devote it to the description of striking similarities

that exist between the traditional, historical, mythological, and

scriptural accounts of the Hindoos and of other nations, had been my

earnest desire, but various circumstances, especially the want of time,

sadly interfered with my plan. Not knowing when the summons would come

for my return to India, I have guided my pen with railroad speed, so as

to get the book finished in season.

In conclusion, I would say once more, that the reader will not find

a richly decorated style, but the bare, true statement of facts as

known by one who is a Hindoo by birth, and knows what he says from

personal experience. Hoping that the kind reader will overlook the

inevitable deficiencies in my style, and accept the genuine information

I faithfully give, I remain,

J. C. G.

LIFE AND RELIGION

OF

THE HINDOOS.

CHAPTER I.

HINDOO CASTE.--ITS ORIGIN, ELEMENTS, DIVISION, SUBDIVISION,

STRENGTH, AND INFLUENCE ON THE PEOPLE.

Almost every school-boy or girl in America or England knows that

in India the people are divided into castes. Foreigners interpret

the caste system of the Hindoos in various ways. Some say that it

is something like the religious sects in Christendom, while others

affirm that it is to show and preserve the distinction between men

of intelligence, worth, renown, and riches; such as Whigs, Tories,

Democrats, Aristocrats, &c. But it is not so. It is a very different

system, and foreigners understand it very imperfectly.

Among the primitive Hindoos there were only four castes:--1. the

Brahmun; 2. the Kais-th; 3. the Khetry-as; 4. the Soodras. They

emanated from Broh-mò; hence the name Brahmun, from the root Broh-mò.

The Kais-th took its rise from the body of the Broh-mò, and is composed

of two Sanscrith words, _Kay_, which means body, and _isth_,

placed. The Khetry-as are from the arms, and the Soodras from the

feet of the Broh-mò. These are the four primary “jathēē” or castes.

In order to discharge all the social duties, and perform whatever is

absolutely necessary for the growth and comfort of society, these

four castes took upon themselves to execute faithfully the functions

prescribed for them.

The manner in which these occupations have been assigned, is rather

philosophical and systematic. The Brahmun, rising from the mouth of

Broh-mò, assumed the precedence, directed the other three as they fitly

deserved, and put all the sacerdotal functions in their own hands. To

the Kaisths was assigned the business of writers, clerks, accountants,

&c. Hence the Hindoos believe the record-keeper of Pluto (Jom) is a

Kais-th, named Chith-ro-Goopto. The Soodras are to perform all the

menial services, because they originated from the feet of Broh-mò.

The Hindoos make great distinctions between the different parts of

the body. The sanctity rests on the highest parts; there is nothing

good at the feet. As the custom in India is to wear silver, gold, and

other jewelry on the body, the females wear no gold ornaments round the

ankles, for gold is the most sacred metal, being valuable and scarce.

To touch a man by the foot is regarded as an insufferable insult;

a kick, “nathēē,” is worse than a heavy stroke of a cudgel. But

the Brahmuns have a right to touch other castes by the foot, as

their scripture declares them the Master of all, “_Bornanang

Brah-monogooroo_.”

The four primary castes, notwithstanding they had one and the same

religion to profess and the same language to speak, had no intimate

dealings with each other, such as the intercourse which binds family to

family and relative to relative. From the beginning, we do not see the

institution of intermarriage among them, and what is surprising, after

all, the one caste does not eat any food boiled with salt at another

caste’s house. Only Brahmuns are excepted. Their houses and everything

therein are sacred to the Hindoos.

In course of time, as the descendants of these castes grew numerous,

the injustice and disorder grew also. Though there were no

intermarriages among them, yet some children were born from what they

emphatically call “unnatural connection.” These children were termed

“Burno sunker,” corrupted blood. Measures were readily taken to remodel

the society, as well as to put a stop to the promiscuous connections,

which were so common then that distinction of castes seemed to groan

under its pressure, by lengthening the structure of the caste system,

and bringing the “corrupted blood” within its jurisdiction. And,

agreeably to the original method, some fixed profession was enjoined

upon them. Hence, at the present day there are thirty-four castes; each

stands on a separate and distinct ground from its neighbor. Let us

trace them in their respective professions. We often see two or three

low castes do the same business, while others have some subdivision

in them. 1. Brahmun, priest; 2. Aucherjeă, astrologers; 3. Boid-tho,

physicians; 4. Kais-th, clerks; 5. Suth-goap, farmers; 6. Goap,

dairymen; 7. Napith, barber; 8. Nundy, dealer in salt; 9. Talēē, common

storekeeper; 10. Kormo-kar, blacksmith; 11. Sorno-kar, goldsmith;

12. Tonth-boy, weaver; 13. Koy-borth; 14. Moduck, confectioner; 15.

Rojock, washer; 16. Sooth-rodar, carpenter; 17. Coomar, idol-maker,

potter, &c.; 18. Poto, painter; 19. Mălā, fisher on the river; 20.

Jālā, fisher in artificial ponds, as well as in the river; 21. Doolā,

bearer; 22. Bagthēē, fish-seller; 23. Joogy, weaver and priest of

commonplace idols, whom the Brahmuns are forbidden to attend to; 24.

Barooē, pan-leaf cultivator; 25. Chundal, publican, always mason; 26.

Moochēē, shoemaker; 27. Kaŏra, hog-keeper; 28. Bathea, fowler; 29.

Moortho-roras, funeral-place cleaner; 30. Harie, women who do the

business of nurses to the infants till twenty-one days from their

birth; 31. Dome, basket-maker; 32. Nag, snake-charmer; 33. Bānā,

banker; 34. Shooree, wine-seller.

Perhaps some may question whether the member of one caste is able to

change his caste or not. I say, no. In other countries, a man from an

obscure origin can possibly exalt himself to a conspicuous footing in

society, by means of his opulence, learning, experience, &c.; but in

India there are impregnable walls between the castes, so that nobody

can exalt himself to a caste higher than his own. When we come to

examine well the caste system of the Hindoos, we are led to think

that it is something like the dispensation of nature in one respect.

It is impossible to transform a dog into an ox, a deer into a camel,

or a horse into an elephant; indeed, there is the same difficulty in

attempting to make a weaver out of a barber, a physician out of a

shoemaker, and a Brahmun out of a physician. To confirm the remarks

just made, I will bring an instance from the Hindoo antiquity, and

present it to the reader to show the impracticability of changing one’s

caste for a higher one.

There was a pious Kais-th king, named Bisha-mithra, who wanted to

be a Brahmun. As it is only in the power of Krishno to make him a

priest, he determines to please him in spending his time in “toposhia,”

prayer. Leaving his kingdom, riches, friends, and sundering the ties

of relationship, he entered into a forest, and there, among the

wild beasts, spent centuries in unceasing prayer. As self-torture

is regarded very essential to propitiate some gods, this king used

to kindle fires round his seat in the summer, and in winter immerse

his body up to the neck in water, offering prayer to Krishno.

His meal was, at the early part of his retired life, once a day,

afterwards once a week, and even that consisted only of wild fruit.

Year after year passed away, witnessing the mistaken piety of this

king. At last pity awoke in the breast of Krishno, and he descended

from his _goluck_, heaven, to bless the pious devotee. “Borung

boorno,”--“Ask a boon, child,”--the god said. “Thy devotion, faith,

and prayer have reached me. Now I have come to bless thee; tell me,

what dost thou want?” The king, thus addressed, replied, “Object

of universal adoration! If my tears, fasting, and prayers are so

successful as to find a place in thy consideration, will not my heart’s

desires, also, meet thy approbation? Yes, Lord, it is in thy power

to cause a lame man to climb to the summit of mountains, a pigmy to

reach the moon, and a babe to cross the unbounded ‘seven oceans,’

by swimming. What is unknown to thee? Art thou not the Inspector of

all hearts? If thy servant has been commanded to reveal to thee his

wants, he would then say that neither the aim for absolute lordship

over the world, nor the desirable combination of long life and health,

has made him to devote these tedious years in prayer and abstinence.

What he earnestly wished for, is the life, the caste, the privilege of

a Brahmun.” “Be still, child,” the Krishno replied; “ask for a home

in my _goluck_, and it will be granted thee. But to make thee a

Brahmun, in this thy present life, is impracticable. But I would meet

thy demands partially. Henceforth thou shalt be a Rhēēsēē, not Monēē

(a title of a Brahmun saint), write sacred books for the edification

of thy castes, and have the discipline, not the caste, of Brahmun.”

I hope this instance will clearly show to the reader the strength of

the castes as it is in India. A man after losing his caste, for small

offences, can regain it by undergoing some penances; but he cannot by

any means whatever purchase a higher caste, or regain his own if he is

guilty of some heavy crime. By heavy crime I do not mean anything more

than the violation of ordinances and the restrictions pertaining to the

caste system.

If a man commits adultery, deceives the people, indulges in

intoxication, and practises all sorts of vices which degrade humanity,

he is regarded as a sinner, an odious, vile creature. The good people

do not keep any intimate correspondence with him; but, nevertheless, he

stands in his caste. When a Brahmun marries a low-caste woman, who is

endowed with a seraph’s charms and purity, or eats the forbidden meat,

such as beef, veal, ham, or pork, he loses his caste forever.

The astrologers, Aucherjeă, are of the same creed with the Brahmuns.

They have equal rights in the study of sacred books, but have no

dealing with them. They are regarded as a very low caste, so much so

that even a barber, blacksmith, or goldsmith would not drink water in

their houses.

All the Brahmuns do not belong to one and the same class, although they

are members of the same caste. There are a great many orders among

them, high or low, according to the nature of the castes to which they

preside over. Thus the priest of the Brahmuns stands higher than the

priest of the physicians, clerks, barbers, and blacksmiths; and the

last is higher than the Brahmun who presides over the goldsmith. It is

to be observed here that one Brahmun can exercise his priestly sway

over the physicians, clerks, farmers, barbers, &c., and retain his

position firmly; although the above-mentioned castes have high and low

among them, and have no intercourse between them. The reason is, nine

castes immediately below the Brahmuns are known by a common name,“Nŏbō

Shawk,” and this justifies the priest in looking at them in the same

light. But the castes below the “Nŏbō Shawk” being distinctly lower

castes, one quite separate from the other, each has a priest of its own

respectively. The priest Brahmun of a goldsmith would not attend to the

marriage or funeral service of a fisher, shoemaker, or hog-keeper. I

hope the Christian reader will not feel sensitive when I speak of the

lowest castes, such as shoemaker, hog-keeper, &c.; he must remember

that I am speaking of the Hindoos, and not of the Christians. Each

country has its own peculiarity: what is regarded high, respectable

in one, is considered sometimes the very reverse in another. In the

present case we see the banker is a respectable gentleman in this

country, and a high caste, too; but in India he is low in caste, so

much so that his priest Brahmun cannot officiate in temples built by

other castes.

The following are the leading, high orders of the Brahmuns:--The

Banerjea, Chatterjea, Mookerjea, and Gangooly, &c.

When a Brahmun gives you his address with either of these, it will be

known as a sure fact what Brahminical stock he is from. These also

stand for the family name of the man. There are, however, low order

Brahmuns bearing the above-mentioned titles, which do not amount to

anything; they neither can eat with a Brahmun of high order, nor marry

his children to the same, and what is more absurd, after all, is the

fact that they are not admitted to the temples, nor to worship the gods

who pretend to be of all, in all, and for all. In the public feasts

of the Brahmuns, when thousands sit at the meal at the same time,

some brisk priests are commissioned to examine the order, name, and

place of the strangers. If it be known that there is a Brahmun of low

order, that is, a priest of the bankers, goldsmiths, or wine-sellers,

the whole assembly would not eat anything until the despised one had

been hunted out and set apart. Hence the wellknown Brahmuns from

different places stand near the door, admit their fellow-citizens, and

sharply, with a lawgiver’s cunning, examine the strangers who happen

to be there. Thus carefully they guard their orders and maintain them

distinct and pure from others.

The Brahmuns of all orders wear a few stitches of cotton--the

Pobitho--round the neck, which other castes do not dare to touch even.

Astrologers, formerly being of the same caste with the Brahmuns, wear

the sacred thread, the Pobitho; but the other castes pay little regard

to him. The Boitho, the physician, wears a thread also, but they are

required to keep it under their clothes lest anybody should notice it

and pay it the homage due to the Brahmun only. If, unfortunately, a

physician be found in the streets with his pobitho on, the Brahmuns

would insult him by tearing it off or taking it away from him. In our

village some physicians--young men--used to wear their thread visible

to all, in spite of the jokes and reproaches of others. On a holiday

they were going to Calcutta with a party of young men from four or

five castes, and the weather being very hot, were compelled to sit

on the piazza of the temple raised by a Brahmun. It happened that

the son of the gentleman was at the window, who, seeing the group of

aristocratic young men on his premises, came out, received them kindly,

and entertained them with a good supply of cocoa-nuts, sugar, &c. Now,

as the Brahmun boy would not eat with the others or the physicians,

they all had to take their seats according to their castes. The poor

physician-boys sat apart from the Brahmun, exposing their thread to the

public gaze, and felt very badly for it. The host, good and kind as he

was, asked their address, and finding they were not Brahmuns, rebuked

them very harshly. Ashamed and insulted they came home, and were

never after seen with their thread on an exposed place of the body.

The peculiar ceremony which offers the pobitho or the sacred badge to

the Brahmun, will be described in its proper place by and by. I will

consider the circumstance which gave rise to the astrologers, and made

them a distinct caste from the Brahmuns. This caste is, as we have

observed before, called Aucherjeă. They write almanacs, tell fortunes,

appease the grohos--evil spirits--for and at the solicitation of the

people.

I have said before that the use of forbidden meat deprives a man of

his caste, and the following are two instances to this point. It has

been customary with the Brahmuns, of late, to offer burnt sacrifices on

some grand festivals. A cow or a horse, being cut into several pieces,

was thrown into the sacred fire, “_home ugnee_,” and at the close

of the ceremony, it is said, the priests could tell the animal from

its ashes. Once on a time a venerable priest offered for sacrifice a

cow, and when all the quartered parts of her were found, at the end,

only a small piece was missing. Others bore witness to what had been

done, held an ecclesiastical council, examined the cow, and outcasted

the worshipper, charging him with using a portion of the sacrifice for

his own benefit. His descendants are Aucherjeă, and form a low caste,

though they are Brahmuns in some respects.

Another class of Brahmuns is called Perēēlēē, having had its rise from

a curious fact. A Brahmun, who used to serve a Mohammedan Nabob in the

capacity of prime minister, happened once to be in a room adjoining the

kitchen. The Nabob suddenly came in, and in the course of conversation

asked him what he thought of the smell which then filled the room.

He unfortunately, drawing in his breath, answered his master, saying,

“The smell is sweet and pleasant.” Upon this, the Nabob asked him

again whether he knew whence the smell came, and, receiving a negative

answer, he said it was from a dish of beef. The minister was struck as

if by lightning, fell down and fainted. Being restored to his senses,

he summoned a meeting of the Brahmuns, who heard his dismal case,

and as, according to the statute, “ghrăna ortho vogono,” smelling is

equivalent to partially tasting, deprived him of his privileges in

the society. As he could not marry his children to other low caste,

not even to astrologers, he had to prevail on some poor Brahmuns to

intermarry with his family, and in time numerous families sprung up in

this way.

This dividing of the people into castes has covered the Hindoo

community with a thick mantle of darkness, ignorance, poverty, and

vice. Whatever be the pretended happy results of such classification to

a Hindoo, as conducive to the interest and prosperity of his community,

it would obviously appear absurd to those who feel equally for every

member of a society.

This system, as if by a thousand hands, confers upon the Brahmuns

numerous blessings, and, on the other hand, administers poison to the

prosperity, happiness, and true interests of the low castes. They have

no chance of getting religious or secular instruction, and consequently

there is no hope of even arriving at a point where they could reach

the interests and privileges which every man would ordinarily require.

To enumerate the defects of the caste system, as it is in India, it is

necessary to trace it in its full length, commencing from the head to

the feet,--from the Brahmun to the Kaorā, hog-keeper. The Brahmuns have

monopolized all the advantages of religious instruction. Their words

are law, in the Old Testament sense; their will is divine; their bodies

are sacred; to worship and serve them is just the same as to worship

the gods. “Thābār theer bŏ theejā thothath,” offer the things of god to

a “second born.”

Seven or eight castes below the Brahmuns enjoy a scanty allowance of

secular knowledge, while the rest have nothing to do with that even.

These poor people, doomed to be under this perilous system, generation

after generation, are the true wrecks of degeneracy. It pains me to

say, that a Kaoră would very likely resemble, in his manner, customs,

and ignorance, the animal he keeps.

To speak the truth, the caste, with all its distinctions and orders, is

the only mighty obstacle to the regeneration of the Hindoos. Under its

domination the Hindoo community presents a strong, brilliant crown on

its head, studded with diamonds of rare value, a necklace of gold, a

breastplate of silver, a belt of brass round its waist, copper garters

on its knees, and dark, hard iron shoes for its feet. The arrangement

is in perfect harmony with the prevailing fashion respecting dress. As

the crown, the garland, the belt, the shoes, have their proper place

in personal adornment, so the Hindoo community has set the different

castes into different places. But there is no justice in it. It has

transformed the gold into iron, denying it its necessary care. There

is no respect for sanctity, intelligence, and accomplishments, if

these be found among the low. In a conversation, I remarked that if a

washerwoman could help me with good advice, I would not walk a mile to

the priest’s for the same. My friends, who were then present, were all

astonished at this, gazed upon me with indignant eyes, and lamented my

remark as the dictate of infidelity.

There are other defective peculiarities in the castes, which cut

the tie of love and brotherhood at the bottom. Observing from the

stand-point of the high castes, we see that one caste does neither eat

with another caste, nor marry, nor even sit on the same carpet. At the

feasts the Brahmuns have the best seats in the hall or parlor, and

the Kaisths, physicians, and barbers have separate seats for each, or

sometimes one for all; but for the shoemakers, fishermen, and bearers

there is no decent mat even. If a goldsmith should accidentally touch

a Brahmun with some confectioneries or a pitcher of water in his hand,

the Brahmun would immediately throw the former before a dog or any

animal, and empty the latter of its contents.

God hasten the day when the very roots of the poisonous tree of caste

shall be pulled up, and the balmy shrub of equality, of love, of

universal brotherhood, be planted in its place. Let the spirit of true

religion, O God, shine upon India. Let her know thou art her Father;

that thou carest equally for all. Let her recognize thy image in all

thy children. Chase, Eternal One, the darkness with thy salutary

light,--the darkness which like a canopy has covered the heathen world;

and thine shall be the glory for ever!

CHAPTER II.

THE BIRTH.--DISTRIBUTION OF PRESENTS.--WRITING ON THE

FOREHEAD.--THE FEAST OF EIGHT PEAS.--THE DAY OF PURIFICATION,

ETC.

The Hindoos hold their male and female children in different degrees of

estimation. They prefer one son to ten daughters, whom they represent

as the worthless slaves of others, and the objects of pity, constant

watchfulness, and particular anxiety. The preference arises from

various sources. After the death of a Hindoo parent his oldest male

child, or in his absence the younger one, is required to attend the

funeral, perform the leading parts of the service, and on a fixed day

redeem the spirit of the departed parent by some particular ceremony,

which I will treat of in its proper place. But a female, being early

separated from the family connection by marriage, is not privileged to

do the same. If there be ten daughters present, and not one son, in

that case the wife, or brother, or a nephew[2] (brother’s son) of the

deceased attends to the performance of the necessary rites.

At the birth of a son, the mother, besides other congratulatory

blessings and benedictions, receives the surname of “herā beoonēe,”

mine of jewel. The sacred shells which every family has in its

possession, to blow thrice in the evening, and on the holidays, are now

sounded; the father brings some gifts to the baby; the family barber

is sent to the friends and relatives with letters for each, containing

the glad tidings, and in return gets valuable presents from them; the

shoemakers, whose business is to sound trumpets, come immediately with

their drums, flutes, and cymbals to play on them. The neighbors crowd

the house to congratulate the family, and it is believed that the

very site of the family lifts up in joy fourteen times, symbolizing

the pleasure of the fourteen deceased ancestors. In short, the whole

family assumes an aspect of ecstasy. But in honor of a poor female

baby nothing of this sort is held. A conflict between prejudice and

affection fills the mother’s heart. With heaviness on the one eye, and

tenderness on the other, she caresses her child, while the elderly

women, wiser than herself, comfort her with the following remarks: “Do

not weep, child. Let your disappointment be driven away by the thought

that no human power could overrule these things. If we could, we would

afford some remedy, but it is the will of Kristo that it should be so;

and we all know that our fruits will be either male or female; female

is child as well as male in the eyes of him who is their maker.” In

fact everything seems so sad, so quiet, that a foreigner standing in

the very yard of the house would hardly know that there is a baby in

the house, unless she herself, by her innocent smiles and occasional

cries, lets him know that there is. The rich father, at the birth

of a son, sends presents of a brazen jar or pitcher, a piece of new

cloth, some sweet things to thousands of Brahmun families, and to the

low castes simply sweet things and a little money. On the evening of

the sixth day, the Hindoos believe that Broh-mò will come to write

on the child’s forehead all about its future destiny. Everything is

kept clean and purified for the reception of the supposed presence of

the god. The Brahmuns and other friends are invited; a member of the

family walks round with a plate on his hand, to take a little dust

from each Brahmun’s foot, with which they touch the child’s forehead,

and when this has been done, each person goes to his respective home,

with some confectioneries given to him. A poothee, sacred manuscript,

an inkstand, and a pen are kept on a piece of board, near the child’s

bed, during the night. On the evening of the eighth day comes the feast

of eight peas, “aught corie,” on which occasion all the children in

the neighborhood are invited. The order of the exercise is as follows.

As the custom is for a Hindoo mother to stay twenty-one days after

her delivery in a separate room where none but the nurse is allowed

to enter; children stand in the yard and put some funny question, in

poetry, to the nurse, who sits on the door-stone to answer these merry

folks. The meaning of their questions is the inquiry after the baby’s

health, ending with some jokes upon the father. Eight boys hold a coolo

or bamboo fan (of which there is mention in the Gospel of Matthew, iii.

12) in their left hands, and in their right hands the sticks. Now,

when everything is ready, according to the order, one of them asks

thus: “_Aught corrie bought_ corria, chāla ancha valo?” and when

the nurse has given her answer, saying, “Vālo,” nicely, they beat the

fan with the sticks which they hold in their right hands. Sometimes

the boys meet with a very disagreeable experience on his occasion,

especially the less smart ones, for amid the universal excitement, and

by reason of darkness, they hit each other’s hands. Suffering twice

from the merry sticks of the boys, my hand bearing the doomed fan,

I came to the conclusion never to join the party again. But this

decision, however, proved impracticable; the friends interpreted my

unwillingness as based upon cowardice (for it was truly so), and the

girls would hurl jokes and shame me, saying, “Had we a right to join

them, we would right off.” At last some kind but cunning boy furnished

me with some prudent advice, that I must take my left hand away in

season. I obeyed and was safe. When the storm has a little abated,

they throw away the broken fan, over the roof of the baby’s room.

The second exercise is the scattering of large quantities of small

sea-shells or copper money, cents, over the yard, which the children

pick up, knocking and falling upon each other. At the close each person

present, young or old, male or female, gets a sufficient quantity of

confectioneries, pop-corn, peas, &c.

On the twenty-first day, which is the day of purification, the

mother comes out of her room to present her child unto the gods

and goddesses.[3] Of the latter, Shustee, guardian of Infants, is

worshipped with great reverence.

It may not be deemed improper to notice here about the dress and

trappings of the children. Hindoo parents dress their younger ones with

gold and silver ornaments, but not always with clothes. The reason

is, that, in a warm climate like India, the children can hardly keep

clothes on except in winter; moreover the Hindoo dress is merely long

pieces of cotton cloth, untouched by the jaw of scissors, and unpinched

by the point of needle, without any buttons or sleeves; consequently

it would be childish if any should attempt to clothe a child with a

dress like this. To dress in Hindoo fashion is very like erecting a

house without nails, tacks, or screws, and that surely would require

ingenuity. To say nothing of others, I myself did not learn to wear my

cloth neatly, according to the fashion, until I was nearly eighteen

years old.

When the child has attained the age of nine months, its parents perform

“_un-no pra-shun_,” or the ceremony of rice. On a fixed day,

before a large audience of guests and relatives, the father or uncle of

the child puts one or two kernels of rice in its mouth, after the usual

offerings to the gods. On this occasion it is customary for the guests

to offer some gifts to the child. On the other hand, they, as well as

intruders and beggars, are entertained in a grand feast.

CHAPTER III.

EDUCATION.--SANSCRITH.--CHALK IN THE HAND.--PATSHALA, THE

TEACHER.--THE DISCIPLINE IN THE SCHOOL.

I would, in this chapter, treat of the education of the Hindoo boys.

But ere I commence this, a little description of the Sanscrith language

seems desirable. It is universally observed that the Indians were known

for their advancement in literary pursuits and for their language from

a far remote antiquity. Their sublime literature with abundance of

gold and jewels stands unrivalled even to the present day. As far as

the fame of the learned Brahmuns has spread, in what estimation they

were held among the nations around India, may be obvious from the

following story. A Persian monarch had sent his messengers in search

of the richest jewels and diamonds in India. They came in, and, after

an earnest inquiry, returned to Persia with the most valuable articles

that could be found. The monarch smiled at this mistake, saying that

he did not mean _those_ by jewels in India. Go, said he, to the

court of King Becromandith, and you will find nine jewels there.

Indeed, this Becromandith had, we read in the book, “_nobō ruttner

shobha_,” society of nine learned men, jewels of rare value, of whom

the celebrated Kalidass was the presiding genius.

The Sanscrith was then the current language of the people, and every

class, high or low, had access to it. I do not mean to affirm that

every class had access to the sacred books, but that various other

able works were open for the instruction of the people. The members

of the lowest caste could then discuss the difficult points on logic,

rhetoric, mental philosophy, who at this day cannot talk on common

things without grammatical mistakes. What a change these few hundred

years have wrought! The beauty of Sanscrith, which could have been

found in workshops, is now strictly confined in the chest of the

Brahmuns. The Sanscrith tree used to grow on the wayside, now it is

found in the Brahminical soil only. Out of the thirty-four castes, only

three have the right to study it comparatively. Brahmuns and Aucherjeăs

can go through all the mystery of the language, while the physician

can study as much as his profession would require; hundreds of their

medical books being written in the Sanscrith, a good knowledge of this

is necessary to understand them. It would seem absurd to a Christian to

see the degree of reverence the low-caste Hindoos pay to this language.

A priest can cause a large audience of the low castes to close the ears

by uttering aloud a few words, such as “_om_” or “_gānētry_.”

Even a Brahmun woman is forbidden to utter or hear them.

As there is no female education there at all, I will speak of the mode,

the peculiarities of training the Hindoo boys. At the age of five, the

boys begin to “touch the chalk by the hand.” It is the custom of the

Hindoos to fix a day, after consulting the stars and planets and days,

to enter on the beginning of anything. A man would not leave home on

any day of pleasure, a woman would not come to her husband’s house at

his or her own arrangement, without consulting the “_poujeeka_,”

almanac. Thus they do on every occasion. In the common printed almanacs

these things are stated thus:--“The Monday, 24th of April, _sooc-clo

puckho_, white fortnight, _tha-thosee_, twelfth day of the

moon, at 10½ A. M., is a favorable time to go towards the east or

north, or to undertake some other affair.” Now when a day has been

appointed in this way, the young boy is anointed and bathed. “Shurresh

sutty,” or the Muse, is worshipped, then the father or some one marks

letters of the alphabet on the floor, which the boy writes over with

a piece of chalk. By and by he is sent to the “_patshālā_,” the

place of instruction, where the “_gooroo-moha-shay_,” sir teacher,

gives lessons in writing, reading, and ciphering to some fifty or more

boys. The boys write on palm-leaves before they are advanced enough to

write on paper. The reason is, palm-leaves are long and smooth, and may

be used anew after washing, in the same way as slates are used. There

are no chairs or benches in the _patshālā_, but they sit on the

carpet: sometimes the boys bring a piece of carpet or mat nearly five

feet long and three feet broad, which they fold round their palm-leaves

and pen of reeds. The _patshālā_ has no regular term, but keeps

throughout the year, holidays excepted, which come almost every month.

The Hindoos know no Sabbath nor Christmas. The school opens at six

in the morning, and again at three in the afternoon, giving, in the

mean time, a recess of four hours. The boy who comes first has a dot

for his number, and the names of the rest are written as they come

respectively. Now when it is time to close, the teacher strikes on

the hands of the boys according to their number. Thus, he who keeps

the record, being the earliest of all, gets merely a slight touch of

the teacher’s whip, the second two, the third three, and so on. This

is simply to enforce early attendance, because the first exercise in

the _patshālā_ is the reading aloud the prayer to the Muse, and

repeating the multiplication-table. The late boys, of course, lose

these exercises. A deep and unsullied reverence for the teacher is

considered the best element in the life of the scholar, and very

essential to his success; hence the Hindoo boy bows down to the ground

before “_gooroo mohashoy_,” saying “_bitha thau_,” grant us

knowledge. To serve him a little is worth several hours’ study. The

pupils are required to bring tobacco for him, which most of them get

at the grocer’s in exchange for the written banana-leaves, which he

uses to make packages for salt, sugar, &c. If a boy be absent often,

four smart boys are despatched to bring him by force, which errand they

perform with great skill and courage. If the absentee be a real truant,

and have a grudge against some boy, in this case you would find his

enemies would go to bring him as the best chance of retaliation. He is

brought into the _patshālā_ in the way that ants carry a crust of

bread into their hole. As they bring him, they sing thus:--

“Gooro moshoy, tomar pōrō hazir,

Achē-dundo chārā dow jol Khaia ashe.”

In English, “Sir teacher, your pupil is come, and give us leave for a

few minutes to go out and drink some water,” &c.

The patshālā does not give thorough instruction in grammar, history, or

philosophy, for the children of the privileged classes learn these in

Sanscrith schools.

Under the British administration the old native system of training the

youth has been almost done away in various parts of India, and English

rules of discipline have been established, as far as it could be done

without directly interfering with the superstition of the Hindoos.

There are high-schools, colleges, and numerous mission-schools

in Calcutta and in other places in India. A university, a

civil-engineering college, and a “School of Industrial Art,” have of

late been established. Nearly fifty years ago there was not a decent

school in Calcutta. Mr. David Hare, of Edinburgh, laid the foundation

of regular schools in India. He gave his money and his whole energy

and life for this one philanthropic object. His tenderness, fatherly

care, and earnest attention towards the students are proverbial. The

Hare’s Academy, the Hindoo and Sanscrith Colleges with their gigantic

pillars and the intelligent and learned Bengalees openly speak of his

disinterested love and Christian philanthropy. His mortal remains now

rest under a marble slab, which may be seen on the College Square.

Indeed, one of the great blessings India has received from the West,

and especially from England, is the system of educating her children in

general. In her past histories (legendary age excepted) we do not hear

of regularly organized colleges, where the children of all the castes

could be instructed. The wretched condition of the low castes and their

predecessors verify the fact. But I do not mean to say, as any of my

dear countrymen should understand, that India had not trained her

children before the English system was introduced. On the other hand,

I wonder that she could produce illustrious poets, metaphysicians,

logicians, astronomers, &c., without regular places of instruction.

Here and there, as we have observed before, there were Chow-Baries

under the supervision of the Pundits, who in fact were the pastors,

teachers, and guardians of the children of the privileged classes. No

goldsmith nor washerman’s son was seen to breathe the philosophic air

of these institutions or drink of the silvery stream of the Brahminical

literature. Again, even the great learning of some of the philosophers,

poets, astrologers, is attributed to the miraculous agencies more

emphatically than anything else. The Mohammedans, who ruled India

before the British, did not direct their eyes towards the Hindoos of

the lowest castes, for their education, or regeneration. To raise the

fallen, cheer up the depressed, exalt the low, enlighten the ignorant,

is the peculiar mission of Christianity, and the nations which profess

it, breathe its influences, carry its blessings wherever they go.

Thank God, that England has done her part in some measure, shown the

spirit of Christ in seeking prosperity and providing education for the

despised low castes,--the “lost sheep” of the Hindoos. Besides the

public schools and colleges established directly by the government,

where all the castes might go for instruction, provided they pay

schooling fees, there are thousands of “Government Aided Schools”

lately instituted by the East India Company.

The condition on which the _aid_ was given is something like

this. The proprietor of a school, desiring aid of a certain sum,

must raise a like amount by fees from the pupils and other private

donations, and spend the whole for support of his school. Among

others, a philanthropic Brahmun, Baboo J. K. M. (the landholder) of

Ottor Parah, near Calcutta, established more than twenty-four primary

schools in different parts of his estate, defraying one half of the

expense from his own treasury, and drawing the other from that of the

government. These schools prepare the boys for the college, where they

go after passing the junior scholarship examination, which entitles

them to prosecute their studies free in the higher branches for one

year, and draw a monthly stipend of five dollars. Those who fail to go

successfully through the examination have to pay for their instruction

of course. The standard for the junior and senior examinations is not

the same every year, but varies according to the general progress of

the schools, and the discretion of the Directors.

The year before I left Calcutta, the “standard for the junior

scholarship examination comprised the following books: Cowper’s Task,

Tytler’s Universal History, Paterson’s Zoölogy, Stewart’s Geography,

Grammar, Mechanics, first four books of Euclid’s Geometry, Algebra

quadratic equation, Arithmetic whole, and other Bengalee studies.”

The candidates who pass this examination are from sixteen to twenty

years old. The sphere to move about for the successful students is

broad and honorable; they may continue their scholastic course in the

Presidency College, study medicine, or teach schools where the branches

of study are low. Let it be said, to the credit of the Bengalee boys,

that hardly a primary school fails to send out annually three or four

students to the higher colleges, from its first class, which scarcely

makes room for fifteen.

I do not know exactly the studies in the senior classes in colleges,

nor feel able to fathom the depth of the acquirements there. I would

use another’s tongue to show how much the Hindoo young men could do in

their scholastic career. A writer in the Christian Examiner quotes from

an able article on British India, in the London Quarterly Review, the

following, which fitly answers my purpose:--“Young men (Indians) who

have received an education, and have passed an examination, scarcely

inferior in the variety and difficulty of its subjects to those of our

English universities,” &c. I do not exaggerate the intellectual powers

of my countrymen, when I affirm that their aptness to learn anything

set before them, their capacity to improve, are remarkable. These are

not however their borrowed faculties, but their native, a part of their

being. The same article I quoted above says:--“No race, perhaps, shows

a higher intellectual development than the Brahmins of Western India or

the higher castes in Bengal. Their thirst after knowledge--whether for

its own sake or for the object of obtaining employment--is unbounded.”

India of to-day can show her pearls and jewels in her children, beside

the celebrated R. M. Roy.

To speak nothing of her other cities, Calcutta alone has her numerous

highly-educated sons;--the Reverend Messrs. K. M. Banerjea, G. C.

Mitter, converts to the Episcopal faith; L. B. Day, of Free-church

Institution; Baboos R. N. Sickdar, V. D. Banerjea, C. C. Singha, R. M.

Mitter, P. C. Mitter, P. C. Sen, K. C. Mitter, R. G. Ghose, and others

too numerous to mention. There was a short notice of the last-named

gentleman in the Boston Journal:--“Baboo R. G. M., a native merchant

of Calcutta, delivered, at the receipt of the Queen’s proclamation, an

address that causes him to be called the Bengalee Demosthenes.”

Though the English schools are open to every class, high and low, yet

the lowest classes do not send their children to them, under a mistaken

idea that they have nothing to do with book-knowledge. Living in a

degraded condition for a long time, they have lost entirely the right

and claims of human beings, as it were. The miserable, pitiable state

in which they live and die, and which is the effect of the despotic

caste system, is regarded by them as the will and decree of God;

consequently they dare not try to get rid of this yoke.

Most of the Brahmun young men study English as the money-making

language, while others devote themselves to their professional studies.

All the ancient Sanscrith books are written manuscripts; the pages

are long, narrow, and colored. Some are written on palm-leaves, and

“roogee pathroo,” bark of a tree. Every student under the tuition of

the superstitious priests, is obliged to transcribe a book as he makes

progress in his studies. But in the Calcutta Government Sanscrith

College, printed books, beautifully bound and gilded, are used.

The Hindoos are averse to female education, and suffer their daughters

to live in entire ignorance. The popular belief among Hindoo women

is, that, if a girl should learn to read and write, she would be a

widow. The widowhood in Bengal is the saddest part of female life, and

its consequent sufferings are such as have caused millions to prefer

death, by being burnt alive on the funeral pile of the husband. But

experience has falsified the idea in a measure. Here and there one

out of ten thousand of women knows how to read a little, and enjoys

connubial life. There are other difficulties to be considered and

removed which prove strong obstacles to the education of the females

in Bengal. The Hindoo women have no free intercourse in speech with

other men beside their husbands, father, and brothers; their faces

are covered with thick veils immediately after the marriage, and from

that time they are not allowed to walk out of the house. Unless these

customs are rooted up, there is no hope at all for the regeneration

of the female in Bengal. As I compare a woman in Bengal with one in

America or England, I see plainly the difference between Christianity

and Hindooism. Nothing but the divine influence of Christianity has

ennobled the female condition in Christendom. May the Christian women

be ever grateful to God for his peculiar blessings unto them, and pray

for the rescue of their sisters in the bondage of ignorance in heathen

lands!

CHAPTER IV.

THE SECOND BIRTH.--BRAHMUN CONSECRATED THREAD.--DISCIPLINE

AND PRIVILEGES OF THE BRAHMUN’S LIFE.

In the interesting conversation of Christ with Nicodemus, St. John iii.

3–7, we hear him say, “Except a man be born again, he cannot see the

kingdom of God.” Again, “Marvel not that I said unto thee, Ye must be

born again.” This doctrine or command, whatever name may be given it,

has been known to the Brahmuns from time immemorial, and even unto this

day it is considered as the vital part of this dispensation. How little

does a Brahmun differ from our Lord in the importance of a second

birth! Christ says, “born again,” the Brahmun says, “thejo,” second

birth. There is a difference between Christ’s views and the Brahmun’s

on this point, which shows the superiority of the former over the

latter. Christ did not prescribe different modes of spiritual birth for

different nations. “Man,” he says, “must be born of water and of the

Spirit,” assume a new life of holy actions, of purity, of devout trust,

of practical brotherhood, of disinterestedness, and of unsullied love,

so as to make himself worthy to tread in the steps of the Saviour, and

breathe the balmy odor that comes from the celestial groves; taste the

fruits of the _removed_ tree of life, drink the water that issues

from the great Fount of all bliss, dress in the robes of immortality,

join his voice with the sweet, swelling chorus of angels, and enter

into the promised mansions, to rest at the feet of the God of all.

But the Brahmun does not include the whole human race, as being under

the necessity of a spiritual birth. He cares for one people, and even

among them he prescribes different rites. As the ceremony for the

second birth of the low castes is not very important, I will omit

a description of it, and direct the attention to that of the three

privileged classes, namely, Brahmun, Aucherjea, and Boitho, physician.

When a boy has attained his twelfth year his parents fix a day, to make

him “thejo,” by offering him a piece of consecrated thread to wear

round his neck. If, on the day previous to the fixed one, it thunder

or rain, the ceremony is postponed for eight successive days, and if

it should rain again, the same measure would be taken. On the morning

of the day appointed he is anointed and bathed, within an enclosure

made of four banana-leaves stuck into the ground. He is conducted to

the altar, where the priest, after the preliminary services, cuts

three locks from the hair of his head. He comes down from the altar

for the first time to undergo other ceremonies. Now the family barber

shaves his head all over, and passes two gold rings through the lower

part of his ears. Here a merry fun is practised. The boy, when he

sits before the barber, holds a banana in his hand, with which he is

required to strike him when he has finished his duties. Sometimes the

boy holds a green, and consequently hard, banana in his hand, so to

warn the barber to be very careful in his operation, that he might not

suffer afterwards. When all this is ended he comes up to the altar,

where, besides the family priest, his father or uncle is required to

take part in the ceremony. After invoking the presence of the deities

and presenting offerings to the spirits of the fourteen ancestors,

the father first puts a cord, made of hairy leaves of _shur_ (a

kind of white reed), round the boy’s neck, which lies on his left

shoulder, and, hanging round the left arm, makes a fold thereby. Then

a _pobithoo_, consecrated thread, made of three stitches tied

into a knot, which symbolizes the holy, mysterious union of the three,

Brohmo, Bishnōō, and Shibă, into one. A piece of _shabor_, skin

of deer, is tied with that thread. He wears a yellow or red robe,

holds in his hand dundŏs, two staves, one made of Bāle wood and the

other of Baoor or Bass. The leaves and fruit of the bāle are the chief

favorites of Shibă, so much so that a dry bāle leaf is acceptable to

him before a thousand varieties of odorous flowers. (In fact, almost

every Hindoo deity is peculiarly fond of some especial leaf or flower,

without which their worship is invalid. Thus Shibā loves _bāle

leaf_ or _tri-pothro_, “three leaves in one stem.” Toolshēē, a

leaf of a plant, is the favorite of Bishnōō; joba, a kind of large red

flower, Kallee is fond of. The Shuresh-Shuttee likes _bakus_ and

gholghasa, the sun is fond of Corobēē, oliander, &c.) The mother of the

boy comes first to give alms--a little raw rice, money, and a piece

of thread--to the second born, who takes it in a yellow bag answering

the purpose of a contribution box. The hundreds of guests who are

invited in on this occasion are required, by their religious custom,

to give gifts of a little money and a piece of thread. Occasionally

some virtuous woman manages to offer the first gift, by paying all

the expenses that accrue in the whole ceremony, which secures her the

position of god-mother to the _thejo_. They then cover his face

with a thick yellow veil, and conduct him to the room where he is

to stay three or five days without seeing sun, moon, or the face of

any one, except Brahmun. Henceforth he is a Brahmun, which means the

“worshipper of Brohmo,” or the “knower of Brohmo.”

The discipline of a Brahmun life is grand in some respects, and in

others tedious, dry, and fanatical, while its privileges are great

and numerous. I will here briefly describe both. A Brahmun is to

bathe early in the morning, regularly every day (if sickness does not

interfere); worship and pray three times a day,--before sunrise, at

noon, and in the evening; take one meal while it is day. The Hindoos do

not use any table, china-plates, knives, forks, or spoons. When they

take their meal they sit on the floor, put eatable things on marble

or brazen platters, or silver, if they are rich. In place of knives

and forks the fingers are used, which are furnished by Nature.[4] But

over and above these, a Brahmun observes additional peculiarities,

with which other castes have no concern at all. A Brahmun, when he

sits to eat his meal, takes a drop of water on the palm of his right

hand, touches it by the end of his tongue, saying “omrithō posthurnŏ

moshee shō hă,” pours it on the ground, puts a little food five

times to his mouth, saying: 1. “Pran-a-ishohā;” 2. “Opānā ishohā;”

3. “Shomānŏ ish oha;” 4. “Otha noish-oha;” 5. “Ba-naish-oha;” finally,

he spares “hundred rice” at his plate, even if he has not enough.

This I understand as charity taught in an indirect way, for the

little remainder on his plate is for the ants, flies, &c. But what is

most troublesome of all is the silence enjoined in the ceremonial

discipline of a Brahmun’s table. He must not speak a word; if he does,

he is to suspend his eating immediately, by taking out if there be

anything already in the mouth, and going without food until after the

evening prayer. A very small number of the Brahmuns observe this all

the days of their life, though they are required to do so; but all

observe it for a year or two. It is a difficult task to put aside

the long-contracted habit at once, and begin a contrary one in its

place. The peevish, talkative boys suffer a great deal. They speak at

the table, and thereby lose the meal. Not to speak of others, my own

experience has taught me to dread this ceremony, and though I was very

mild and careful, yet notwithstanding all my carefulness, I had to

go without my meals five or six times in the course of every month,

especially during the first half-year of my Brahmun life. The very day

I became _thejo_, at meal-time, my mother requested all present

to leave the room, lest any should attract my attention, and make me

speak. She herself, also, went out, slamming the door and giving me

enough for one meal. Unfortunately, I wanted a little more milk, so

calling my mother, by a new language, not by the use of the organs of

speech, but by striking the floor with my left hand. Nobody understood

my singular language, and reflecting awhile on the result of the new

discipline and the advantage of talkativeness, carelessly, I sung out

“Ma.” This sound reached her with the velocity of lightning. She rushed

in, saying, “What is the matter?” “A little more milk, mother,” said I.

“Poor child; to-morrow by this time you shall have plenty.” So saying,

she took the plate away, with everything in it, charging me, if I

wished for water, not to drink any until I had washed my mouth. I gazed

around in vain. The yoke of superstition is really too heavy to bear.

In desiring to have something more, I lost even what I had already!

The privileges of a Brahmun are great. His person is sacred. It would

be a sin if any one should dare to touch him by the foot, for the foot

is a profane part of the body, as they believe. The caste Soodras,

rising from the foot of Brohmo, became the lowest. When one priest

accidentally touches another by the foot, he asks his pardon, saying,

“_Bishtŏ-bă_ nōmō.” It would be considered a real favor if a

Brahmun should tread on a physician or barber, or other low caste.

The religious Hindoos daily drink “_pathuck joll_,” before the

first meal of the day. Pathuck joll is a little water, which they

take on the palm of their hand, in which the Brahmun dips the end of

his right toe. Especially do sick persons drink this water, hoping to

be cured from the disease that troubles them. I have heard a great

many people say that they have been entirely restored to health

simply by drinking “_pathuck joll_,” or eating a little dust

from a Brahmun’s foot. After a little acquaintance with the Christian

doctrines, knowing what I owe to God and man,--that I am as sinful as

others,--I abdicated the supremacy I had, and would not give the dust

of my foot to any. As the consecrated thread which hangs round our neck

distinguishes us from the other castes, and draws the sick and mistaken

folks towards us, I used to hide it somewhere, under my clothes, in the

streets of Calcutta or elsewhere in foreign places. Unfortunately at

one time I had forgotten to hide it, and an old woman of nearly sixty

came along and stretched forth her right hand towards me. Of course I

understood what she meant by that, and in a loving tone said: “Mother,

I cannot put my foot on your hand.” “Why not, child?” she replied. “I

am not a Brahmun, according to your idea. I am no better than you.

We shall both stand on the same level before God.” The old woman was

ignorant and besotted, could not understand my meaning, and, in vain

looking at me for the blessing, cried aloud in an angry tone, “If not a

Brahmun, what are you then? A shoemaker, I guess.” Though I noticed her

dim old eyes flashing fire and a color of indignation visible on her

wrinkled cheek, yet I ventured a few words more. “There is no disgrace

in being a _moochēē_, shoemaker. I would rather be a humble, meek

moochēē, than a proud Brahmun.”

Brahmuns enjoy “_brom-horthro_,” free-lands, which have been

granted to them by the ancient Hindoo sovereigns. The Moosulman kings,

who ruled India before the British, did not encroach much upon this

right of the Brahmuns, only here and there some Nabobs were eager to

break this system, but to no purpose. Under the present government the

Brahmuns enjoy their lands free of any tribute. But I must not deny

that some priests possess several acres over and above what has been

given them.

Some low caste people would sell any articles to a Brahmun at a low

price, while others would not sell them to him, fearing he would

not pay fully. When he touches anything by his hand, as fruits or

vegetables, from a low caste’s farm, he will have it at any rate for

nothing, or by the payment of a little or no money.

We read in our Scripture that the Brahmuns had absolute authority

over the property as well as the life of other castes, and over their

temporal and spiritual affairs. Frequent mention is there of some sad

cases, which, though incredible, loudly speak of their despotism. On

the other hand, we read of their acts of generosity, disinterestedness,

and love. Of the former, here are some instances. Copeel monēē

consumed sixty thousand offsprings of Saugur in the ashes simply by

looking at them in anger. Porickith, a Kais-th king, having insulted

a “_monēē_” by putting round his neck a dead snake, died by the

anger of the insulted Brahmun. The king Corno sawed his only son of

five, by the command of a Brahmun. Various instances could be cited to

prove the power of this high class of men, but I will soon illustrate

some of their generous deeds. A _monēē Augusth_, by his sanctity

and power, put an eternal check on the monstrous cruelties of two

giants, and relieved the millions of the poor victims from injustice

and death. It is an imperative duty for them to entertain the guests of

any caste, relieve the needy, restore peace, check injustice, and share

one half of their sustenance with him who is without it.

“How are the Brahmun priests supported?” “Do they have a regular

salary for their services?” &c.,--are the inquiries frequently made to

me. So I think it worth while to answer these questions fully here,

although they have been partially explained, and will be elsewhere.

As the priesthood, the parish, the religious services in Christendom,

are quite unlike those in India, it seems necessary to consider them

briefly in order to give the Christian reader true ideas of them.

In this country an energetic preacher can draw round him a large

congregation. The people visit church after church in search of

good, weighty, or sentimental sermons, and wherever they find what

is agreeable to their taste they hire a pew, and become members of

the same. Thus the father goes to the brick church, the mother to one

of stone, the daughter to a wooden one, and the sons, not finding

theology in either, spend the time at home. But in Hindoo countries

everything is fixed, binding, and must be attended to. The priesthood

is hereditary, gods the same, the theology is well protected,

contrived, authoritative, and religious services uniform, mechanical,

and pleasing. They do not and cannot seek after a change; wherever

they go, they see the same god, worship in the same way, the lamps are

lighted, flowers scattered over the altar, incense burning, &c. In

order to be settled over a rich people, the Brahmun depends little upon

his “pulpit eloquence” or spiritual career; let him have, so to speak,

“Abraham for his father,” and plenty and comfort will be his. After

the death of a Brahmun, his parish, containing any number of families

living in the same village, or scattered around the country, will be

equally divided among his sons like other property of the deceased. In

case one of the sons proves unworthy of the charge, unable to attend

to the religious ceremonies at the houses of his people, either being

engaged in some other profession, as most of the Brahmuns are now, or

owing to his ignorance of the services, his people cannot go away from

him and settle another over them.

A rich, free-thinking farmer in my village, being guided by a party

feeling, and detecting his priest in some acts of deception, bade him

farewell, and sat at the feet of his brother. In a few months he was

summoned to appear before the Priest of the priests, where there are

no idols, on the throne of reality. His bereaved family interpreted

his sudden death as owing to the visitations of the gods, feared that

the children would fall victims to it also, and, after a season of

entreaties, became reconciled to the old priest. As the people are

not required to congregate together for the purpose of receiving

instructions from the priest, or joining in worship with him, they

dwell in different villages, and the priest visits them personally

when his presence is needed by especial events, such as death, birth,

marriage, or any private worship which the Hindoos observe now and

then; and on general holidays he sends out his agents, himself being

engaged at the house of some one rich Jorzman, parishioner. He has

no monthly salary, but gets certain sums of money from each family

under him on the day of worship. His income must be more or less in

proportion to the wealth of his people. Sometimes one family gives him

more than twenty could together. I know a rich Brahmun family, of low

order, residing in a town four miles or more distant from the Calcutta

Government House, who gave to the wife of its priest a lac of rupees

($50,000), because the gentleman of the family felt very much ashamed

to hear his priest say his wife has not seen a lac of rupees at once.

In this country the parish pays the preaching; in India they pay the

priest.

There are numerous Brahmuns without a single family to attend to,

yet they have an income. The very name Brahmun is a _sea_, and

the rivers, channels, pour into it from various directions. It is

customary with the Hindoos, especially with the wealthy ones, to

distribute a certain sum of money, clothes, or useful metallic articles

to each Brahmun family in the place, at the birth and marriage of the

children. If there be more wealthy persons in a place, the Brahmuns

will get more. Again, these rich men give annually winter clothes or

summer dresses to the Brahmuns, this being part of their religion. By

receiving these gifts continually, they keep the substantial things

for their family use, and exchange the rest for what they need. Thus

a great many buy fine brass dishes in exchange for goblets, or give

napkins or clothes as the price of salt or sugar. The people bring

fruits, vegetables, fish, milk, &c. to the Brahmun family, no matter

whether they are their priests or not. During my stay in this country,

I have noticed such practices carried out here in some degree. The

farmers bring butter, potatoes, eggs, to the pastor; the difference

being, that these bring presents to the pastor alone; the Hindoos do to

the Brahmuns in general. Besides what they receive from these sources,

the Brahmuns teach their children in secular studies, which secures

employment for them in merchant or government offices.

Now almost everything is going on disorderly, as a forerunner of a

great and good change I hope. From what I know, I should think the

Brahmuns themselves (the most orthodox, conservative portions excepted)

have little of that strong adherence to their profession which once

characterized their predecessors.

My teacher, a Brahmun by caste, once remarked, that some priests would

be willing to sell their sacred books, to buy Murray’s spelling for

their sons with the price.

CHAPTER V.

THE MARRIAGE.--POLYGAMY.--KOOLYN AND

MOULICK.--MARRIAGE.--AGE.--SELECTION.--AGREEMENT.--ANOINTMENT.

--BACHELOR AND MAIDEN FEASTS.--THE JOY-CAKES.--BRIDEGROOM STARTS

FOR BRIDE’S HOUSE.--RECEPTION.--DISCUSSION.--TWELVE

FRIENDS PARTY.--THROWING STONE PARTY.--CEREMONY.--GOOD

INTERVIEW.--DINING-ROOM PLAGUES.--DISTRIBUTION OF

MONEY.--RETURN.--RECEPTION.--BRIDAL FEAST.

This chapter will be devoted to the description of Hindoo marriage with

all its numerous peculiarities. It assumes such a different aspect from

that of this country, and contains such a host of absurd forms quite

new to the Christian people, that I should like to detail it distinctly

as it is. Marriage is regarded by the Hindoos as a sacred condition of

human life, and essentially necessary to meet both our temporal and

spiritual wants. Notwithstanding all the benevolent and charitable acts

of life, the sanctity of the heart’s thoughts and all the purities of

the soul, a Hindoo requires something else to redeem his spirit after

death. It is believed that after the departure of the last breath from

the body, or, in a Hindoo mode of thought, after the return of the

five elements which compose the human body to their respective homes,

the vital spirit invisibly walks round the house until some one of

the male members of the family exorcise it by a peculiar ceremony.

Hence arises the need of matrimony and its efficacy as tending to the

spiritual benefit of man. In India a man and woman must marry. It is

expressedly a divine ordinance and a violation of it is by no means an

act for commendation. The ceremonies performed by every male offspring

are requisite for the redemption of the Hindoo parents; hence when a

man sees his wife the mother of girls only, or of no children at all,

he is required by his religious law and for the safety of the soul to

marry more wives until his demand has been met or ambition gratified.

But it ought to be observed here, that the necessity of offspring does

not entitle a woman to marry a second time, even in her widowhood, for

her step-son would do just as well for her spiritual wants. Sometimes

we see a man here and there who spends a bachelor life, either through

an inability to support a family or from some vicious character of

his own or his parents. For if a single member of a family should be

found guilty of some abominable practice, such as adultery, theft,

murder, irreverence to the Brahmuns, intoxication, or violation of

caste regulations in eating or marrying low caste, the family would

be outcasted; people, even the nearest relative, would withhold any

social intercourse whatever in order to avoid the equal fate of the

sinner. To intermarry with an outcasted family is out of the question;

even the family barber and washerman withdraw their services. How far

this contagion troubles our people, the following incident will show

to the curious and inquisitive. A young Brahmun married a girl, in our

village, whose mother was the daughter of a Brahmun of a low order,

or more distinctly a priest of the fishermen, and whose poor father

was outcasted on that account. In course of time, through entreaties,

the Brahmuns took pity upon him, and agreed that he should be allowed

to dine with them provided he should sit at a distance from them,

and, what is the greatest of all favors, that _they_ would eat

confectioneries at his house, but not rice of his family cooking. This

favor which they conferred upon him was for this especial reason, to

marry his daughter, who had already attained the proper age; for, as I

have before said, it is a sin to live a bachelor or maiden life. Again

another thing is to be considered here, a man can marry at any age or

as many times as he desires, but the girl is to be married under or at

the age of twelve, and only once in her life. Now our friend, the young

man, was not acquainted with the stain of his father-in-law’s family,

and unfortunately did not inquire properly about it. The fact became

publicly known, and his father, uncle, the priest who officiated, and

the friends who attended the ceremony, were all outcasted, until some

of them regained their former rank by undergoing some penances, which

will be represented in the second part of this book.

Now to the point: I have spoken of the Hindoo regard for matrimony. I

will ask the reader’s attention to the description of that monstrous

system, polygamy, which has painted the Hindoo community with a dark

hue, and is the mother of manifold disorders, immoralities, and vices.

We hear that some Brahmuns had fifty wives,--some three-score; but

even at the present day there are thousands, each of whom is the

husband of a dozen wives! In order to enable the reader to understand

distinctly this horrible system, I will furnish him with a large amount

of information respecting its origin. Ballŏl Sen, a Hindoo king, in

order to regulate the overflowing number of the Brahmuns, to check

wickedness, to encourage learning and piety, divided them into two

orders, Koolyn and Moulick. There is a beautiful definition of Koolyn

in the Sanscrith language, which reads thus in English: “Good behavior,

modesty, learning, popularity, visitation to the pilgrimages, force

of will, means of support, devotional habits, and charity, are the

nine essential characteristics of a Koolyn.” One wanting these godly

qualities was called Moulick. The king, no doubt, was prompted by

good and prudent motives in this classification, which every one will

see as manifested in the very definition just cited above. After his

death this system unfortunately underwent some modifications, which

handed down the privileges of Koolyn, which were great, no doubt,

to the heirs, and could not always give the qualities thereof. The

peculiarities of the Koolyn order are these: they would get money if

they should eat at a Moulick’s house, or marry a daughter, either

Moulick or Koolyn. They would not drink a tumbler of water even in a

clerk’s or a physician’s house, and if they should marry their daughter

to a Moulick, they would lose the rank thenceforward and forever. As

a Koolyn must marry his daughter to one of the same order, sometimes

one accepts the hands of scores, partly for the want of a sufficient

number of bridegrooms, and partly as an act of virtue and generosity

to unburden the parents by marrying their daughters. These men do

not _always_ support their hosts of wives, who frequently stay

in their father’s houses, and occasionally receive visits from them.

I know of some unfortunate women who never saw the faces of their

husbands more than once!

Early marriages are prevalent among the Hindoos. There is no fixed age

for the marriage of a man, he can marry when he pleases; but if he be a

Brahmun, he cannot marry under twelve, that is, without being “_born

again_.” The marriage age for a girl is between six and twelve. You

would scarcely see a girl of thirteen, out of thousands, unmarried. She

is known (if there be any) as a real _thoobree_, spinster, and

there is little hope of her ever being married without difficulty. My

poor younger sister, only eleven years old, was (I am sorry to tell it)

dragged to the altar to marry a man of the age of her grandfather, and

of little refinement.

Among the Hindoos of the present day there are no such things as

courting and engagement. In olden times the system was quite different

from what we see now, and was called “_itcha boree_,” or marriage

of choice. But I do not mean that they of old used to know each other

well, attend to the meetings on holidays, or enjoy the grand spectacles

and music in theatres and operas. No, nothing of this sort was known

to them. They used simply to glance at each other’s accomplishments,

both external and internal, in the shortest time possible. This, though

a little defective to the Americans and English, at any rate is far

better than the present fashion of no acquaintance and no interview

until at once before the altar. Shith-ă, Drou-pothe, Doymonthee, and

other renowned women, have married in noble ways. The caste system does

not allow the Hindoos to select their own brides. For, suppose a young

man found out a girl of promise, how will he know that she belongs to

that peculiar caste or order from which he is to have his wife? There

is another obstacle. There are no promiscuous gatherings of the sexes

in Bengal, either in the temples or in the dwelling-houses. Hindoo

women of high caste rarely come even to the outer department of the

house in which they live.

Reading the Christian customs concerning weddings in the English

books, I shrank at the thought of marrying one whom I never saw. How

many times have I prayed to God in behalf of the blind ones of Bengal.

I have had to contend against my mother’s will, for she of course

wished me to marry a girl of ignorance in the ignorant way. Do the

Bengalees really know what a wife is, and what social pleasures are?

They are at once cut off from _that_ society over which the

gentler sex presides. It would be considered an act of shamelessness

if a young wife should manage to see her husband in presence of any

living creature. Twice a day when he takes his meal she can see him,

if her eyes are very strong, through the meshes of her thick veil; or

would she dare to draw her veil aside, the attendant girls or young

women would hurl some rebukes at her. Poor thing, she cannot look at

her own treasure! The plagues of some sort or other ever attend her,

to trouble and put her to shame for trifles, which are neither sinful

nor improper. Thus, while young, I troubled my good aunt for nothing

serious. It was in the night, when the full-grown queen of the sky

was shedding all her splendors on those Oriental regions, that we

were standing in the yard of the house near the dining-room, where

the gentleman of the house had entered to take his supper. We two

were in the room, but at the approach of my father and uncle, she was

obliged to come out. I too came out to cheer her loneliness for half

an hour. But what did I? Just the contrary! There were two pairs of

shoes on the dining-room steps, for the Hindoos do not carry into the

room things made of leather. As the pair belonging to my uncle were

elegantly embroidered with gold threads, and studded with small stones,

which were dazzling as baby moons in the moonlight, my aunt took a

fancy to thrust her feet into them and walked a few steps in the yard,

with difficulty no doubt, for not being accustomed to wear shoes, and

being so large that her feet seemed swallowed, as in small skiffs. Not

knowing how to manage such a heavy pair, she made a horrible, rattling

noise with the silver hoops round her ankles and the shoes, as she

walked along. “What is the matter? What is that noise out there?” my

uncle cried out. “Nothing, sir, only aunt was trying to walk in shoes.”

“Walk in shoes!” he cried, “walk in shoes! A woman, and a Hindoo too!

She is going to be a _Kristan_ (Christian), I guess.” Who can

describe her embarrassment? She sat down senseless, and for several

days could not show her face to her friends!

When a girl has attained her seventh or eighth year, the father engages

a _ghotuck_, procurer of his own caste, who is well acquainted

with the different orders of the castes. It will be worth while in

this place to speak of the _ghotucks_. They keep a record of

all the marriages of the Koolyns in every part of Bengal, which they

commit to memory and furnish as an interesting study to their children,

who of course should follow the same profession. Let a Koolyn tell

a _ghotuck_ his father’s name, and he will trace his genealogy

several generations back. Thus once we were sitting in the outer

hall of my grandmother, a _ghotuck_ came in and asked for some

money for his travel homeward. He asked my brother’s name and also

my father’s; then he repeated like a parrot the names of our several

ancestors, and where and when they were married. Indeed he did it with

as much precision as if he were repeating his own children’s names. Now

when the _ghotuck_ has found out a young man of the right order,

the parents of the opposite party come to each other’s house to examine

the bride, and the bridegroom in turn. On a fixed day they assemble in

the gentleman’s parlor where the girl is conducted by a female servant,

dressed in fashion and with taste. To ascertain whether the girl is

dumb, lame, or disfigured, or not, one from the bridegroom’s party

says, “What is your name, dear?” “Gollaup (Rose), sir,” in a low mild

tone. “What did you say your name was? Please speak a little clearer

that we may all hear. There! there you see the venerable gentleman, do

you? He is very fond of sweet voices, but unfortunately he is a little

hard of hearing.” After an exchange of jokes between the opposite

parties, the girl, having regained confidence, in a more distinct tone,

says: “My name is Gallaup, sir.” “What, Gallaup? O, how pretty! how

sweet the name is! Gallaup in name and in looks also. Walk a little,

will you?” Whereupon she walks, and the eyes of all are turned to

watch her motions, whether they are graceful or awkward. The presiding

member of the opposite party puts a gift of money into her hand,

which she acknowledges with a salutation. Now comes the examination

of the boy. This is conducted in the same way, only it is extended a

little further, namely, to see what there is in his mind and head. His

handwriting is produced, and his knowledge of letters is fathomed.

This is done by some high castes only, for the men of the low castes

who come to the boy do not know how to read or write themselves. Even

among the Brahmuns, some possess but little book-knowledge, write so

awkwardly that nobody can read but themselves, and read a page in an

hour, spelling each word they find.

The older brother of my brother-in-law, who came to preside over the

arrangement, being required to sign his name, began to tremble, and,

with much embarrassment, wrote down his own name on the paper with

one mistake! Some cunning fathers, before the coming of the girl’s

friends, provide a room magnificently for his son’s study, borrowing a

pile of books from the boys in the neighborhood, and, in fact, arrange

everything so nicely, that it is hardly possible at first to tell

whether the room is the boy’s study or merely a bookstore.

When both parties feel satisfied each with the other, they enter into a

written agreement called “_log-no pottrica_,” which records every

arrangement respecting the marriage. In the evening of a fixed day, the

parties meet at the house of the bride, where the family priest is

required to write the instrument, and an astrologer to appoint a day

for the wedding ceremony, and the other friends to be witnesses. Before

commencing to write, the priest marks the paper with dots of red and

yellow powders, writes the name of “_Doorga Ramà_,” &c., on the

top, and other things below. The following is the form of the agreement

or “_log-no pottrica_”:--

“SREE SREE DOORGA.”

“THE WELL-WISHER, RAM CHUNDER DEB.”

“Hereby in this happy writing, I promise to marry my first son, Sree

Deno bundoo Deb, with your second daughter, Sree motly Modhoo Bindoo

Debee, on the 24th of June, 9½ P. M., 1859. I promise, also, to pay all

the expenses that shall occur on the occasion, provided you will give

all the gold ornaments to your daughter, &c.”

* * * * *

The father of the girl writes a similar one, answering to and approving

the points suggested in the other, and congratulating the proposed

_Bai-ba-hick_[5] with a good will.

My American and English friends know very well what is to be done,

i. e. what arrangements and preparations are to be made two or three

months before the marriage. The Bengalee do just the same as far as

the preparation is concerned. Among the former the young man secures

a home, furnishes the parlor with everything to render both the short

summer and long winter pleasant and comfortable, drives over to

Chickering and Sons for a best, well-tuned piano-forte, and brings

home all the newly-composed music that possibly could be procured

in the music-stores. The friends of the young lady seem very busy

in knitting, seaming, sewing, embroidering, &c. Among the latter,

no separate house is required at all, for it is considered greatest

of all earthly pleasures to dwell under one and the same paternal

roof. If the young man should remove somewhere, even after the death

of his parents, in order to live with his wife, the children in the

neighborhood would ridicule him as the slave of his wife, and her as

the author of discord. Hindoo parents, on their death-bed, charge

their sons not to have their food cooked in a different kitchen, but

to dwell peaceably in the same house, helping each other. I know a

Brahmun family in my village, Bātli, which contained thirty souls

at the same time. The house that sheltered them is something like a

fortress, enclosing an acre of land. There is no need of separate

houses from various reasons. A newly-married wife in Bengal is more fit

for a primary school in Boston than for housekeeping. Again, if her

husband be absent for half a day even, she would not go to the next

house to ask for help if absolutely necessary. Shopping and singing

are out of the question. Thus, while very young I was sick, and the

physician, not finding my father at home, put a few pills on a plate,

and requested my mother, who was then by the side of the door, to get

some _coorchēē_, bark of a tree, and mix its juice with them.

Though in the next house there were several persons, yet she could not

manage to get any _coorchēē_. In the afternoon the physician came,

and feeling my pulse, said, smiling: “Madam, you have not applied the

medicine, nor given your boy the prescribed regimen. I know why you

have not: brother Gangooly is not at home.” Going a few rods out of the

house, he returned, calling my mother, saying, “Madame, here is the

_coorchēē_, which grew on your lot.”

Now about the necessary preparations for the wedding. Nothing is to

be more cared for than a good, faithful goldsmith, who is to make

ornaments of various shapes and sizes. Three days before the marriage,

both the bride and the bridegroom are anointed and bathed in their

respective homes, by a dozen married women. The widows are entirely

excluded from this and other ceremonies pertaining to the wedding. I

have before observed, that the women cannot associate with men, and the

question would naturally suggest itself, Do the married women anoint

and bathe both bride and bridegroom? I will here be more distinct in

portraying the scenes, for they are all new and different from those of

my Christian friends. The women are for the most part elderly persons,

and composed of sisters, aunts, and the like. This exception is made on

an occasion like this. The bride and bridegroom are requested to keep a

_jathee_, scissors, with them until the marriage ceremony is over.

The relatives and other friends send valuable gifts, and entertain them

in their houses. This mode of entertainment is called “the bachelor and

maiden feasts.” The evening previous to the wedding is celebrated the

feast of “joy cakes.” These cakes are made of cocoa-nuts, sugar, and

rice-powder, and are cooked with much ceremony. When the raw rice is

washed, they sound the sacred shells, trumpets, flutes, cymbals, &c.

As the couple will be joined in a fixed moment in the evening, the

friends are very careful to reach the bride’s house before that time.

When the bridegroom starts he dresses in red silken cloth, wears a hat

made of cord and other glittering, fanciful material; then his mother,

or in her absence, aunt, comes near him, and inquires, “Child,--where

are you going?” “To bring you a female servant, mother,” he replies.

If he be the son of a rich man, hundreds of persons go with him. The

bands, both native and English, play before him all the way. Some young

boys, a hundred or more, dress in uniform; walk with colored flags in

their hands; the hired dancing-girls dance on the platform, carried by

men on their shoulders. Various fancy things, such as hills, houses,

halls, and churches, made of bamboo sticks, beautifully covered with

paint and gilded paper, are displayed,--fireworks of various sorts

are burned,--streets leading to the bride’s house are splendidly

illuminated. When the bridegroom reaches his place of destination,

he is received in an outer hall, accommodating hundreds. A party of

twelve young men come and demand some money, which they get from

every man who comes to marry in their place. This they dispose of at

the public worship. Some little boys come, also, in the name of the

“throwing stone party,” for some money, which they spend for a feast

or other amusements. The priests of the opposite parties enter into a

discussion of various topics, embracing mental philosophy, astronomy,

poetry, scriptures, &c., while the schoolboys do the same, questioning

each other in geography, history, grammar, &c. Some dull and less

active boys sit apart on the cushions with the pretence of headache

or something else. Sometimes the boys of the bride’s village disturb

the others very much. I know of many instances in which they cut the

best cashmere shawls to pieces, threw fire on them with a pretended

carelessness, and painted the face of some poor dull boy with ink,

who might happen to sleep at that time. Again, the “twelve friends”

sometimes practice much violence if they do not get the exact sum of

money they demand. I, unfortunately, once went to attend the wedding

of our priest’s son, in a town nearly twenty miles north of Calcutta.

The party above mentioned proved so troublesome that we were obliged

to fly by the back door in the night, through bamboo forests, tired,

hungry, and afraid lest they should overtake us, and we be handled

roughly.

Now the appointed time comes; the bridegroom is conducted into the

inner department of the house, where no persons are allowed to enter,

except his father, priest, and the barber. As he passes through a

narrow entry, the young women throw at him a copious shower of pastry

made of raw rice and molasses. The place for the marriage ceremony

is furnished thus: two painted seats of board for the bridegroom

and the bride,--some other aushuns, small pieces of carpet, for the

priests and the parents,--a set of all sorts of household furniture

used by them,--and a small throne, containing some images of their

gods. The service is conducted in the Sanscrith language, which none

but the priests can understand. After the preliminary service the

young couple look at each other for the first time, which is called

_Shooblo dirstu_, good interview. This good interview, or rather

first interview, relieves the young man from his doubts and fears in

regard to the bride, and she, too, feels a like anxiety. Her face is

covered with a veil, and she cannot see her husband,--she only knows

that she is going to marry some one, and her definite knowledge of him

ends with this fact. They require the bridegroom to stand on a piece

of painted board, then the bride is brought, sitting on a similar seat

and supported by two or four men, as the case requires. By them she is

raised in the air, and as the bridegroom looks eagerly at her, the face

being then unveiled, some young women give blows on his back, sides,

and shoulders. Receiving the first-expected blow from the gentler sex,

he turns to the direction from whence it comes, and others favor him

with more from various quarters. He, no doubt, feels very badly, and

greatly confused, and if he be a stout and grown-up young man he bears

these blows with manly fortitude, and if not, he cries a little. I have

heard of some boys, who, unable to bear these invasions, looking up,

cried aloud, “Ma! I shall not marry.” They then exchange two flower

garlands, which can be done in Bengal all the year round. The priest

then binds their four hands with a cord made of flowers, and causes

them to recognize each other as the lawful husband and wife. The guests

remain sitting during this part of the ceremony, and the father of the

bride, her uncle, or mother, is required to take part in the ceremony

and dedicate her to the bridegroom. At the conclusion the priests

receive their fees, according to some fixed order. For instance, if the

bridegroom pays five dollars to the priest of the bride, her father is

required to pay double the sum to the other priest. The entertainment

of the guests then takes place in the yard, hall, porticos, and other

places. The Brahmuns sit in one place, the Shoodras in another,

and thus each according to the rank held in the caste system. Some

difficulties yet disturb the bridegroom in the dining-room. The women

contrive various sorts of fun to plague him. They set cakes made of

rags, rice made of white corks, on the plate, and milk composed of

white chalk and water,--good things are, of course, given by and by,

but these he dare not touch lest there be other hidden difficulties. In

order to give some distinct idea of the fun the young women practise

on this occasion, I would mention the sad case of my uncle. They dug

a vat in the floor, four feet square and as many feet deep, purposely

to perpetrate a joke upon him, a piece of shaggy carpet was spread for

the seat, supported by frail sticks. Poor uncle! unconscious of the

hidden trap, sat on it, and down he went! In order to add more to his

embarrassment, there was water at the bottom of the vat. Judging from

these, and witnessing other kinds of plagues, I should say the marriage

night is a rather hard time for a Bengalee bridegroom.

The “_bashor ghor_,” or bride’s chamber, is crowded with women

during the night, who entertain the married couple with songs, make

the bridegroom sing, and answer, if he can, some puzzling questions,

enigmas, &c. The reader will notice that here there is allowed free

intercourse in speech between the man and the women. But it should

here be explained that these women must be sisters of the bride or her

brother’s wives, near or distant relations. Her mother or aunts, who

in law would be such to the bridegroom, do not enter into the mirth of

the “_bashor ghor_.” The next morning his father has to pay some

money to the following persons, the policemen of the village, the man

who teaches in the school, the Brahmun who teaches free the Sanscrith

scholars, the men who take care of the temple, images, &c., the poor,

low caste people, and a generous sum to the women who entertain, or

rather plague the night previous. He then starts for his own village

with his wife and some of the servants. Both she and her mother bathe

in tears as they part. Being received at his house, he stands in the

yard on a painted seat, and the girl before him on a dish with milk in

it. She holds a live fish in her right hand, and he stretches out and

puts his hand on her head. Seven married women walk round them seven

times, blowing some _shunko_, and pouring water on the ground

from a pitcher as they walk. Then comes the “bride’s feast,” at which

hundreds from different castes are invited if she be a Brahmun. The

persons invited from the relatives and friends see the face of the

bride, and put some money in her hand. When they see her, the attendant

maid takes off the veil from her face and she closes her eyes. This

mode is very good indeed, for nobody can notice the color and size of

her eyes, whether they are dark blue, brunette, large, small or cross.

When her own caste sit at the dinner, she brings a little rice to some

of the leading men.

The _full shorjai_, or bed made of flowers, together with a large

quantity of spices, confectioneries, fruits, and clothes, are sent by

her father on the third day after the marriage, which are distributed

to the families in the neighborhood. After staying through eight

days she returns to her father’s house, and occasionally goes to her

new home until she attains her thirteenth year, when she commences

a regular married life. As it is my desire to relate the scenes of

Hindoo life, its manners, customs, and peculiarities as faithfully as

the rules of propriety will allow, I should say that there is a second

marriage which occurs during two or three years after the first, which

I forbear to describe. I cannot close this chapter without making some

remarks on the Hindoo marriage. Escaping the maladies of superstition,

and standing under the light of true religion, with feelings of love

and refinement in my heart, I shudder at, and clearly see, the defects

in the system we have considered. The very thought of marrying a person

whose joys and sorrows I am to participate in, who is to become one

with me, without knowing her character and seeing her face at all,

makes me shudder. How many hundreds in Bengal are spending their days

in wretchedness! There, with many, the affection between husband and

wife is rather compulsory than heartfelt. True love does rarely grace

the connubial life of the Hindoos. Their children do not know what

innocent social comforts are. Vice, with its thousand branches, twines

round their lives. Faithlessness to the married relations, discord

between, and separation of two who are required to be strictly one,

are the defective features of the Hindoo families in general. As

there is no system of divorcement or a second marriage for the women,

a hundredfold is added to their deplorable condition. A goldsmith, a

neighbor of mine, bleeds his wife almost twice a month for some trifles

done, such as looking on the street through the window, talking with

women outside of the house, &c. He being her lord and tyrant does as

he has a mind, and finds no check to his brutal conduct. Of course the

gentlemen in the neighborhood remonstrate with him for his conduct, but

this affects him for a season only. He was fined several times, but

not divorced, which measure only could save the unfortunate woman from

future sufferings.

CHAPTER VI.

DEATH.--BOITHORNEE.--BATHING.--ANOINTMENT.--SHO.--BURNING

THE BODY.--EXPRESSION OF MOURNING.--WIDOWS.--SHORATHO.

“None but the sinners die under their own roof,” is the prevailing

belief among the Hindoos. The person who dies at home, and on Tuesday

or Saturday, is believed to be surely possessed of an evil spirit,

_roth jonēē_. His ghost walks round the house and frequents the

places where he rested in his lifetime. Hence, the moment the physician

has declared that there is no hope of life for the sick person, the

friends hurry him away to the ghaut on the bank of the river Ganges,

where they lay him down in such a way that he may see and bow down to

the sacred river. It must be observed here, that in almost every ghaut,

either at the expense of the town, or of a single individual, some

rooms are erected for the accommodation of the sick and their friends,

because in some instances they linger a long time before death comes.

In that case they all remain there day and night. If the sick person be

a rich old man, having four or five sons living, a great many religious

ceremonies are performed at the ghaut. In the morning and afternoon a

priest expounds the sacred legends to a large audience, who come to

visit the sick and hear the preaching.

“Boithornee” is performed at this time, either by the sick himself, if

he is able to utter the words, or by his oldest son. It is believed

that between the edges of this world and the other there is a river,

Boithornee, to cross by those who go from this. There are no boats at

all. Each one must provide the means for himself. Hence, at the point

of death, or a little while before the departure from this world, the

traveller dedicates a cow, and a large quantity of raw rice, pease,

clarified butter, sugar, and clothes, unto the gods. As a compensation,

the infernal spirit will provide him with a cow, which will carry him

over to the other side of the Boithornee, and the eatable things will

satisfy the spirits on the way. The reader will, no doubt, compare

these with the funeral proceedings of the ancient Greeks, and see how

nearly they resemble each other. Sometimes it happens that the sick

man recovers after a while, and consequently desires to return home.

This is a bad omen, and a sad case, especially if the man be aged. They

would say the messenger of _Jom_, Pluto, had arrested him by a

mistake, having the commission to take away another in the same family.

Sometimes, through a mistake, they summon some one in the neighborhood!

When the man returns home, he closes his eyes on the way; the first

thing he sees is an idol in the priest’s hand, and calls any person

he may choose by name, who is expected to go to the city of Pluto in

his stead. Hence he calls an old person in the family if there be one,

because it will be a comfort to him, and his death is lamented less. I

was once posted with an idol in my hand to receive a young lady, who

had been carried by the forgetful “peons of death.” She opened her big,

dark eyes, looked earnestly both at me and the idol (for this was the

only chance for her to see a young man face to face), and humbly bent

her head, saying, “Takoor, grant that no misfortune, consequent to my

return, may befall the family.”

When the men see the sick person breathing his last, they plunge his

whole body up to his neck, and shout, “Gunga Nara onŏ, Brohmo om Ramŏ.”

But if they be Sudras they omit the word _om_, which is too sacred

for them to utter. The reader will easily imagine how soon the last

remnant of life flies from the body under such treatment, and, to add

to the sufferings of the last hour, a man pinches very tightly the

great toes of the sick until he dies. They then erect a pile of wood,

which is nearly six feet long, three broad, and six high, on which they

lay the dead body. Before doing this they anoint the body, and put a

cross on the forehead with the sacred mud from the Gunga. When the

corpse has been laid down on the wooden pile, the oldest son of the

deceased walks seven times round it, with a blazing torch in his hand,

repeating some words after a Brahmun of low order, who performs the

funeral service. He then touches the mouth of the dead with the fire

of the torch; the friends help him in this, and in the course of five

hours they burn the body to ashes. If any one should touch a person

of the funeral party, he must stay with them until the end of the

service. They take a piece of the burnt body and enclose it in a mud

cup, and throw it into the river. The Hindoos, as a people, burn the

dead bodies of their friends; but to give the reader true information

about this custom I should say, however, that there are some low

castes, _Potto_ and _Jugēē_, who burn or bury their dead as

circumstances permit. Again, the children under one year of age, of

any caste whatever, are buried on the river’s side; but no tablet or

monument is erected on the spot. The reason why the infants are buried

is, I believe, the unwillingness to put fire to their delicate frames.

They then wash the funeral place, remove the ashes, and bathe

themselves before they leave the spot. The leading man of the party,

i. e. the son of the deceased, erects a pole nearly eight feet long on

the place just washed and cleaned, also sets there a _colser_, or

water-pitcher, and a _shora_, or earthen saucer, with eight small

sea-shells upon it, and slightly strikes the pitcher with a shovel, and

turns his face in the opposite way. As he leaves the place he does not

turn back to see the things behind him, for it is said, if any should

dare to look back, he would see hosts of evil and infernal spirits

dancing and feasting on human flesh. I have often thought I should like

to ascertain the truth of this, by doing what is thus forbidden, but

I had no opportunity, because, when my father died, I was young and

superstitious, and the second son. Now, being outcasted, I have not

the privileges of a son, consequently, even in the absence of my older

brother, some one else in the family will burn the body of my mother

when she dies.

The party then walks first to the house of the man that died, slowly

repeating _Horēē Cōle_, touches some fire, cuts _nim_ (a leaf

having a little taste), and chews a few grains of raw rice, which are

purposely kept on the street near the house.

The expression of mourning is shown in various ways. Those bearing the

same family title, such as Gangooly, Mookerjea, Doss, &c., will not

shave their heads, cut the nails, anoint the body with oil, nor use any

sort of animal food, for some fixed time. If the death of a Gangooly be

known to hundreds of Gangooly families, they would all observe these

rules, and one additional, namely, they would not offer prayers or

worship the idols. The Brahmuns and astrologers observe these mourning

customs ten days, the physicians fifteen, and others a month, during

which time the sons suffer a great deal. They all dress in white, go

with wet clothes after bathing, eat rice, boiled potatoes, peas, &c.,

once in twenty-four hours, and sleep on the floor on a carpet, quite

separate from wife, children, or any friends.

There are some peculiarities in boiling the rice, the only meal of the

day. Almost every one is required to cook for himself at this time of

mourning. The earthen pan is placed on three large iron nails driven

into the ground, and the fire for the cooking is made of dry cocoa-nut

leaves.

During those days of mourning the sons of the deceased call on every

family in his native place, high or low caste, rich or poor. Entering

into a gentleman’s house, they thus address him: “Sir, to-day is the

sixth day of my father’s departure from this world. He has received the

grace of Gunga. I am ignorant of a great many things, inexperienced,

and know not what to do. I earnestly entreat you to be kind enough to

go to my house, superintend everything necessary, advise me and others

interested in my case, receive and entertain the guests in my behalf,”

&c. It is customary to give some pecuniary aid to them, especially

if they be poor, for it costs a large sum of money to perform the

ceremony, and entertain several hundred persons, at least. The day

before the ceremony,--which comes, as before stated, on the tenth day

to a Brahmun, the fifteenth to a physician, and the thirtieth to the

low castes,--they all shave their heads; the women simply cut their

nails and bathe in the river. The oldest son, who is the chief actor

in the scene, offers _thus pindoo_ (made of rice, butter, [_ghee_,]

and bananas) to the spirit of the departed father, as food for the ten

days. Now, on the next day, comes the _Shrawthō_, or grand ceremony.

The invitations, through letters and by messengers, draw immense

crowds of relatives, friends, priests, monks, and beggars. In an open

spacious place, either in the worshipping department of the house or

outside of it, an earthen altar is erected, and _brisho kastō_, or

funeral post, is placed near it. This post is carved out from a piece

of wood, either _bale_, _nim_, or _jug-go doomur_, a kind of fig-tree.

The priest marries a calf and a young bull before it, while it serves

as a pole to which cords are fastened for the purpose of binding the

queer bridegroom. They brand both sides of the bull, so as to make him

conspicuous all the days of his life. A peculiar caste is hired to

do this, because to burn _go churmo_, cow’s skin, is a profane act.

Hindoos have different castes to do the profane as well as sacred part.

All sorts of household furniture are dedicated to the gods, and then

distributed to the Brahmuns. Some choirs, composed of common men and

women of ill repute, come to sing the legends of Krishno, for which

they receive some compensation. Sometimes twenty, more or less,

different choirs come, and the people know not which to hear. In such

cases, however, they hear the leading ones, giving them a liberal sum,

and sending others away with but little. But it ought to be mentioned

here that the choir having a handsome young lady, well dressed and

ornamented, as its head, will secure a hearing at any rate, and, the

whole time being occupied with feasts and entertainments, she is

engaged to sing again, when all will be quiet.

Three days after this ceremony, they all anoint themselves with yellow

powder and oil, and form a long procession of singers, priests and

relatives, carry the funeral post on their shoulders, and stick it

into the ground by the side of the river. Every year, on the same day,

the children or grandchildren of the deceased are required to repeat

some part of this _Sha-ahho_, and entertain as many persons as

their circumstances will permit. Hence a Hindoo gentleman entertains

people in feasts nearly six times a year, in honor of his departed

forefathers. Even a poor man is bound to do this, otherwise he will be

regarded as an infidel and a sinner.

There is a Brishookasto, or funeral post, in the Salem Museum, where

curiosities from India are placed for exhibition. There is also another

at the room of the American Unitarian Association.

It seems necessary to me to give my Christian friends some idea of

widowhood in Bengal. The very day a girl becomes a widow, her colored

clothes, silver and golden ornaments, are all taken off, and a mark of

red powder, which every married woman wears on the forehead, is rubbed

out. Henceforth she is to dress in white, and wear no ornament of any

kind whatever during her lifetime. Her daily meals are reduced to one,

and that is prepared in the simplest way possible. She is strictly

prohibited the use of any sort of animal food. This restriction has

been carried to such an extreme, that, if a scale of fish be found in

the plate of a widow, she must immediately stop eating and go without

food the same day. Each widow is required to cook her own food, and to

abstain entirely from food and drink two days, _aka-thusly_, in

every month. There are other fasting days for this class of wretched

women, but the young ones feel satisfied with observing the two fixed

ones. Who can witness the sufferings, the sighs of the Bengalee widow

of thirteen or fourteen years, on the fast-days, without pity? In

the warm days of April, when the burning sun dries up the ponds of

their water, scorches the leaves of the trees, these poor victims to

the rigidness of superstition faint and pant in hunger and thirst.

If they are dying on the _aka-thusly_ day, a little water will

be put to the lips, merely to wet them. In order to escape these

continual sufferings, it has been the practice with many widows to

burn themselves with the corpse of the husband, and though the subtle

Brahmuns inculcate various rewards for the burning of the Shuttee, yet

I cannot see anything more weighty than the putting an end at once to

all their troubles, even at the guilt of suicide. They have no hope

of ever cheering their widowhood in the world. A learned Brahmun,

the principal of Calcutta Sanscrith College, is earnestly engaged in

redeeming the condition of the widows by introducing the system of

widow marriage. Having a deep knowledge of the national literature,

also the Scriptures of the country, he traced back its customs and

institutions, and wrote a pamphlet, in which he succeeded in proving

that widow marriage had been known to the Hindoos of old. His reference

to the ancients, his able arguments and pathetic discourses in behalf

of the wretched millions, were met by the people with the ferocity

of lions. Nearly sixty pamphlets were published by the enemies of

the widows, against this great reformer. Amidst the heavy shower and

thunder of reproach from his blind countrymen, this noble child of

God, with a few friends by his side, with the love of humanity in his

heart and the smile of his Father upon his head, stood firmly, and,

summoning all his forces, maintained the honor and superiority in the

field. With an elaborate work he answered his opponents, confuted their

mistaken reasonings, and, to their great mortification, married a young

Brahmun widow of sixteen to a suitable bridegroom. May he be successful

in instituting this wished for system, which will save the females of

Bengal from manifold sufferings and sins!

It ought to be observed in this place, that no widow is asked or

forced to die with her husband. She who voluntarily takes up her

cross and follows after her beloved husband of life, is welcome.

Every preparation will be made to help her in this act of mistaken

devotion. I have heard of some widows, who made all the necessary

arrangements for this mode of suicide while their husbands were living.

As it would be a disgrace to the family in case of her failure, the

people ask her to consider the matter well, and, finding her firm in

her position, bind her and her dead husband together with some cords,

and lay them both on the _Chitta_ or funeral pile, where she is

burned alive amid the praises of the spectators. In many instances,

the devoted widows, forsaking their little ones, and committing them

to the care of others, have followed after their husbands. It is a

heartrending scene indeed to behold the wretched children, who, with

horror unspeakable, witness the death of their two dearest relatives

on earth,--the one taken away by the natural death, the other, yea the

sweeter, the tenderer of the two, a victim to superstition, a martyr to

her conviction of the mistaken precepts of her priests.

My sisters in Christ, be grateful to your Father for the light you

possess. Learn to appreciate the thousand blessings which crown your

heads, and, comparing your privileges, your comforts, your associations

with those of Indian females, thank heartily the great Giver of all.

O, do not carelessly tread on the pearls cast so lavishly before you,

but prize them, feel their influence, and make good and right use of

them! Remember that to whom much is given, much will be required from

the same. Pray for yourselves, and pray in behalf of your sisters in

the bondage of superstition, pining and mourning in ignorance. God

raise the hearts of the people of this country, especially of women,

that some daughters of God, like blessed Mrs. Judson, Mrs. Mundey, and

others, might take pity on the dismal condition of their sisters in

the bright, yet dark, heathen India. Noble Christian men and women,

who send only their male missionaries to India, do not know that the

female India, which is the better and larger portion of the country,

has no chance nor allowance to hear them. So the women grow up and die

in ignorance, yea, entire ignorance, of the only wise God. Their lives

are spent in the worship of the ideal gods and goddesses! In the dark

days of their widowhood, which lasts with life, there is nothing to

comfort them, no hope, no promise to calm their troubled spirits, no

knowledge of literature, science, or true religion to draw instructions

therefrom. Sad, dark, dismal, pitiable, their conditions are! Nothing

but the lights of the true religion can emancipate them from their

servitude, strengthen them in their weakness, and exalt them from

the low and degraded surface they stand on. Let pity awake in your

tender breasts, ye women of America and England, towards the suffering

millions! God does everything by instrumentalities, you are the same in

his hands. Work then if it be expedient, or send the female teachers

to work in the harvest of your King. Behold, the harvest is great, but

the laborers are few! Help them, and bless them with the light you

enjoy,--yea, the light of the knowledge of the King eternal, immortal,

and the only wise God,--and yours will be the blessings forever!

CHAPTER VII.

DOMESTIC LIFE, EDUCATION, ETC.

According to their ideas of good and bad, the Hindoos teach their

children in their early days to love the former and shun the latter.

They are taught to fear the gods, love their parents, respect the

aged, and adhere to all the institutions of their ancestors, social or

religious. As the result of such careful, regular training, a great

many children do and say what they have no conception of, like the

birds which the Hindoos teach to utter words. With a view to give some

idea of this training, I would first notice the early days of the

Hindoo children, but feel sorry that I have to begin with something

quite ridiculous. It is the fear of the Vooths or devils,--the

spirits of men, women, cows, &c., dying under peculiar circumstances.

The number of these wicked spirits is immensely large in countries

through which the sacred Gunga does not pass, because its sanctifying

influences drive them a great way off. Again, as it is believed that

those who breathe their last on the lap of their “Mother Gunga”

with the consciousness of their approaching end, and say, “This is

Gunga, and I am dying,” are conducted to heaven, almost all the sick

persons are led thither to die. Hence there are only very few devils

near the Gunga. The Hindoo mother sitting by the cradle of her baby

sings the names of the demons as her lullaby. My dear mother had the

following, which she was wont to sing when the children would cry and

would not go to bed, or made any noise. “I am Ear-cutter, live on the

palm-tree and cut the ears of the noisy children.” Such songs always

have immediate effects; the little ones stop crying and hide their

faces under the arms of their mother. As these grow older and are

able to understand words, the lullaby turns to be a story of devils,

tigers, lions, &c. After dark the mother, father, or the servants

gather round them a youthful auditory, and tell them long stories of

the devils,--how they wander about in the night, especially on dark

nights; go from one to the other end of the village by a single step;

encounter bad men in their nocturnal rounds, and require them to recite

their prayers. The men or children who cannot say their prayers meet

with very disagreeable experiences from their hands. These stories,

too, have great influence upon the children; they learn their lessons,

prayers, and hymns, by heart before they come across a devil, who is

pretty sure to examine them as to their acquirements. The devils have

their castes and orders; the spirit of a Brahmun is Doithó; of a woman,

Patné; of low caste, in general, Vooths; of a miser, Joc; of a glutton,

Pisha, etc.

The children learn the names of the male and female deities, and thank

them when they go to bed. The mother takes her babe to the temple, and

bends its head before the idols, if it be too young to show voluntary

expressions of reverence. Often we find little boys or girls going to

the temple with their parents, holding fruits in their hands.[6]

The discipline at the table is peculiar. The Hindoos do not use knives,

forks, and spoons at their tables; but they teach their children to

make good use of, and to handle delicately, the tools they have, viz.

their fingers. The children must sit decently in their places, must not

scoop away the contents of the plate at once, nor put their fingers

into their mouths up to the whole length. To leave one’s seat before

others have finished their eating is regarded as an insult to the

party. It is not only an insult, but more than that, as the party would

not eat any more and would leave their seats accordingly. The Brahmuns

do not touch each other while at meals; if accidentally they should do

so, the oldest of the party ceases to eat, but sits quietly until the

end, when he leaves his seat with the rest, and does not eat any cooked

food till evening. Anything left on the plate, whatever be its quality

or quantity, is not taken into the kitchen or closet in order that it

may be used again. Hence they take what they can eat, and the remainder

is given to the servants, who are always from the low castes.

Discipline at the school is as follows. Love to the teacher, respect

to his person, obedience to his commands, and attention to his

teaching, are strictly insisted upon in our scholastic career. The

Hindoo boys (for the girls are not sent to the schools or anywhere

else for instruction, there being no such thing as female education)

are taught first of all to regard, or, I might say, to idolize their

teacher. To refuse him a service, or to speak a word before his face in

the spirit of defiance, is a sin. Pupils really prostrate themselves

before him, and offer prayer to him, as a personification of knowledge.

So much confidence is put in him that the boys sometimes pay more

attention to his words than they do to those of their parents. For

obedience to and confidence in a teacher are preludes to scholastic

success. Under any marked circumstances, for instance like the late

school question in Boston about reading the commandments, in which

the parents and the teacher were opposite parties, each demanding of

the child submission, a Hindoo boy would obey the teacher while under

his instruction, his sacred position awakening respect. I have known

a boy who cared so much for the wants of his teacher, that he would

not listen to the paltry excuses of his parents for not meeting them.

The teacher had told him to bring his schooling fee, which he wished

to remit to his family by a man who was to leave the place the next

morning. The boy asked the money from his parents, but did not get

it; they said, some time during the week they would forward it to the

teacher. This did not satisfy the boy, who, in the absence of his

parents, took away a heavy brazen jar, pawned it at a neighbor’s, and

brought the money to his teacher. Being desired to give the reasons

for his conduct, he replied, “The teacher ought to receive his fee

when he needs it, and especially when he wants to send it home, and in

due time; and that if they really wished to pay him during the week,

they might just as well recover the jar then.” As most of their books

are manuscripts, and liable to be torn, spoiled, or lost, the boys are

taught to “love them as their friends, and watch and bind them as their

prisoners.”

If, carelessly, a boy drops his book on the ground, he picks it up,

dusts it with his cloth, bends his head before it, and kisses it

with reverence. The judicious care which ought to be taken of books,

writing-tools, etc. has grown into a superstition. When a boy touches

his book, pen, or inkstand carelessly with his feet, he thanks

Shores-shutty, and begs her pardon.

Duty is exacted towards all in the different domestic relations.

Parents and all brothers and sisters are objects of reverence, and it

is the first and great duty of a child to honor his parents by words,

deeds, and affection, as by mouth, hand, and heart. The Hindoo children

prostrate themselves before their parents, and, taking the dust of

their feet by the hand, put it on their heads,--a way in which the

Hindoos show their humiliation towards others. They do not take the

names of their parents on their lips, unless it is for the information

of others, and even then two or three respectful terms are used before

and after each name. It is regarded impolite to inquire the name of

a married woman. A separate term of honor is put before the name of

a departed father, uncle, etc. To call a person by his name, who is

older than one’s self, is an insult to him, as well as a sign of a want

of good training in ourselves. In the family, the young boy does not

address his older sister or brother as sister Mary, brother George, by

their names, but uses, “First brother, First sister, Second brother,

Second sister,” etc. A married woman does not, on _any account_,

utter the names of her husband, his eldest brother, her father, and

mother-in-law, etc., nor sound the very letter which begins their

names. For instance, she whose husband’s is Shiba, uses F in the

place of S, making _Fiba_. _Goguth_, being the name of a

god, is a common name among the Hindoos, and thousands of women say,

“Forguth-nauth” when they bow down to the celebrated Jugur-nauth. A

man must not touch the person of his younger brother’s wife, unless

compelled by some emergency. If he does so in seeming carelessness,

he brings the world’s odium on his head. It is not respectful to

laugh wildly, and make loose remarks, before father, mother, uncle,

aunt, brothers, sisters, cousins, or, in short, before other grown-up

persons. In conversation, to look or stare at the face of the person

(especially if he or she be older) whom we speak to is very impolite;

on the other hand, it does not look well to gaze at a person while he

speaks to us.[7] Singing, or playing on any instrument, before grown up

persons, especially if they are relations, is improper; hence, pianos

or other musical instruments are not household furniture in Bengal.

The music is made among persons of the same age, and where no father,

uncle, or elder brother is present. This, however, is confined only to

the males; Hindoo females do not sing to men or even to themselves.

Occasionally, you will hear a girl singing, in a tone sweet yet so

low that you will think she has just recovered from a dreadful fever;

while her female hearers are on the look-out,--lending one ear to her

song, and the other to catch the step of any one who might be coming.

Proficiency in music or dancing is not an accomplishment to a Hindoo

woman; her accomplishments consist in keeping silence before, and

speaking gently to, her friends; in abstaining from wild laughter;

in paying attention to the regulations for her sex; in offering due

regard to others; in her familiarity with the art of cooking, and her

reverence for all holy and pure things. Dancing is strictly forbidden

among the males or females of any respectable standing whatever, and it

is thought to be degrading, a savage practice, to move about or stretch

the limbs with measured steps before an audience. In India, dancing

men and women always belong to the disreputable class, who sell their

services to the public. The Hindoos believe that the custom of dancing

by both sexes originated among the savage people; although it is a

main source of pleasure among the enlightened. A Hindoo father would

rather see his children walk on crutches than waltz before anybody.

Confined as the dancing is to the disreputable people, it is itself

a difficult art; every one cannot dance according to rule, unless a

systematic instruction is received. There are, I presume, more than

forty different kinds of movements. When a girl dances, she imitates

the sounds of the music, by means of the ornaments round her ankles.

As she gently glides along before you, you will hear the low ringing

noise of her ornaments, in perfect harmony with the sound of the music,

and this designates the kind of the dancing. But it is to be observed

here, that even the disreputable public people do not dance together,

male and female leaning against each other’s bosom, and putting their

arms round the waist. Among the high castes, any sport requiring the

exertion of bodily strength is excluded.

The chess, cards, and other games, similar and superior to backgammon,

are the prominent ones. But here, again, age and relation are to be

considered. A gentleman does not play with his brother or children, or

any nearest relation young or old; for it is impolite to play a game

with or before grown-up friends; and, on the other hand, it is showing

a shallow character to engage in a game with children. Again, the

members of the low castes do not join in the sport with the Brahmun,

lest they come so near his sacred person as to touch him with their

foot, or to speak wildly to him in the heat of the action. Particular

care is taken to teach young boys the art of writing letters to

their friends. As each person is to be addressed by peculiar words,

expressive of age, position, and relation, etc., there are some fixed

rules which are consulted by the writer. In English, “My dear” answers

almost every purpose, except in a lawyer’s letter. It is applicable to

father, uncle, mother, brother, husband, wife, sister, brother-in-law,

priest, children, friends, debtor, creditor, etc.; but in Bengalee

the system is quite different. The writer must discriminate between a

father and brother-in-law, by addressing each according to the relation

he holds to the one who addresses him. In writing to father, mother,

uncle, oldest brother and sister, father and mother-in-law, and priest,

the address is “Right adorable,” and the writer’s name in all cases is

used at the beginning. The address to those younger in years is, the

“Object of blessing.” A man addresses the father or mother-in-law of

his son or daughter by a distinct phrase, which _could not be_

applied to any other. Low castes observe these rules while writing

among themselves; but in case they write to a Brahmun, young or old,

the phrase, “Most adorable,” or, “Obedience to thee is my joy,” etc.,

is used. The following is a sample of a father’s letter to his son:--

“OBJECT OF BLESSING:--

“Know and accept my good wishes and blessing from this. For thy

spiritual and temporal welfare I solicit the grace of God unceasingly,

and in so doing consists my substantial joy,” etc.

In order to take a long or short journey, especially if undertaken for

some important business, a “fortunate hour” is sought for, which the

priests designate after consulting the day and its planet (each day,

being named after the heavenly bodies, such as Sun, Moon, etc., has its

attendant planet). Before starting on the journey, a man prostrates

himself before his parents, bows to them reverently, bends his head

also before the idols or pictures of the gods, asks their blessing,

recites a prayer or two, which are always creed-like and authoritative,

and finally bids “Farewell, I come then.” This is answered by, “Let

success attend your steps,” “Gods be with you,” etc. If accidentally he

should strike or touch his head against a door or wall, or if any one

present should shout or sneeze, or if any one should speak to him, he

would immediately take his seat for a few minutes. Such interruption is

regarded a bad omen, and, if repeated, the journey is to be postponed.

In the streets, all the castes salute the Brahmuns as often as they

meet them. The Hindoo would not let the priests go without his

salutation. He folds his hands, holds them near his breast, and bends

his head, saying, “Salutation to the feet of the Second Born,” at

which the Brahmun gently raises his right hand a little, uttering, “Be

victorious!” or “Live ever!” or “Blessing be thine!” Unless there be

a deep interest or settled familiarity between the parties, they do

not speak to each other in the street. Some persons inquire of their

friends, “Well, I hope?” “All well at home?” and are responded with,

“As you see,” or, “As you will,” etc. The low castes do not walk

close by the Brahmuns, nor tread on their shadow, if they can help it.

To whistle, sing, or smoke in the street, is ungentlemanly. The very

lowest castes are found to do those things. A Hindoo gentleman would

not eat anything between his meals in a car or in a carriage. So, in

India, the cry of “Candy, sweet oranges, apples, Stewart’s gum-drops!”

is not heard in railroad cars.

The tests of gentlemanliness are positive. From early years the

children are guarded against falling into evil passion, fighting or

quarrelling, etc. The grown-up, high-caste people _very_ rarely

come to blows, or even lay hands upon one another. Our parents,

sisters, wives, would feel ashamed of us in the extreme if they heard

that their children, brothers, or husband were fighting-men. Indeed, it

would bring shame upon the whole family if one member of it were found

making use of a club, sword, or gun against his brother.

A Hindoo gentleman does not appear before any stranger without

arranging his dress; again, _too much_ fixing is regarded foppish.

He does not use unkind words to others.

The daily routine of the men is as follows. After washing their mouths,

early in the morning, the castes attend to their respective business.

The Brahmuns go first to gather flowers for worship, and afterwards

attend to the idols at their own houses, as well as at those of their

“parishioners.” A great many of them go to teach schools, or work in

the courts, hospitals, or mercantile affairs, etc. But these are not

all Brahminical. Other castes work until eleven or twelve; after that

they bathe, offer prayers to the idols, and take their meals. In the

afternoon they go to work again. The priests spend the afternoon in

their studies, and in household affairs. Some of them occasionally

meet, either in a parlor or in the open air, to play chess. The evening

is spent in different ways. The good fathers gather their sons round

them, inquire about the studies of the day, and give them instruction

in parables and stories. Others go round visiting their friends,

hearing music, or attending the meeting frequently held to consider

local difficulties. At last, at nine or ten, comes the supper, which is

served in their peculiar way.

As to the occupation of the females, I will speak only of the

high-caste ones, as the head of the sex to which they belong. The

first part of the morning is spent in attending to the sweeping of all

the rooms, entries, yard, washing the kitchen, the marble or metallic

plates which are used at late tea. These are done mostly by female

servants, but as being of a different caste they are not allowed to

come to that portion of the kitchen where the cooking-utensils are

kept, or to the kitchen at all; the sweeping and washing here are

done by the members of the family. The performance of the duties

in the kitchen is a difficult one; for if anybody should touch a

cooking-pan or a kettle before taking a bath, it would not be used any

longer; so such things are placed beyond the reach of little folks.

As the utensils are often liable to be touched, they are, however,

mostly earthen-ware; so in case they are thrown out, as they often

are, the loss is not great. After the sweeping has been done, the

women get ready for the bath; anoint their bodies with oil common,

or _foo lud_ perfumatory, as circumstances permit. I have seen

a rich, handsome, but vain Brahmun woman rub her arms and face with

_Kheer_ (thickly boiled milk), that a good fragrance might come

from her person! They then go into the river or tank, where hundreds

wash themselves together on some holiday. On their way home, the

religious as well as elderly portion of them visit the idols in the

temple; the young women, however religious, are not often suffered to

go to the temple, lest they come into collision with young men who

frequent them for this purpose. Reaching home, they help each other in

the cooking. As the Hindoos do not set vegetables or fish whole on the

table, and use highly seasoned and spiced dishes, great care is taken

to dress fish, cut the vegetables, and grind spices. Widows do not eat

anything touched by hands that have just dressed fish; so one takes

care of vegetables, another of fish, a third grinds spices, and thus

they pleasantly alleviate the labor which, if done by one, would be

anything but easy, and of course would take more time. The Hindoo way

of cooking things is really scientific; and it takes time and requires

skill to do it. They do not think much of boiling, baking, frying;

alleging, that only those who do not and cannot cook better feel

satisfied with them.

Let a Bengalee woman prepare some common leaves or flowers, and, if you

eat them, you will hardly know what you are eating. Out of _one_

kind of fish and two or three of vegetables, she would prepare ten

different dishes, perhaps, each differing from the other in regard to

flavor, taste, and richness. In fact, in some grand feasts, the number

of _Ban-juns_, or curries, as called by foreigners, exceeds forty!

In the legendary accounts we read of _fifty-four_ Ban-juns used by

the gods. As there is no fixed time for taking meals, the men dine when

they are ready, either together or separate, and the women afterwards.

If there be a female visitor in the family, the newly married

daughter-in-law would not eat anything before her, and to meet at the

table with _men_ is out of the question. My lady friends, in this

country, have often asked me, “Who presides at the table there?” “Who

waits upon the gentlemen?” etc.

The mother or any other elderly female serves food to the men, but

she does not partake of it with them. If there be only a young woman

present to help her husband or his brother, she skilfully manages to

look at the condition of the plates, and acts accordingly. Sometimes

she gives them what they do not wish for, or more than they can eat.

The married women do not sit close by the widows, lest they touch

them or their plates; in either case the latter are required by the

religious regulation of their order to stop eating. Very commonly the

widows do not eat any food cooked by married women, even if they were

their daughters.

Immediately after the meal they go to the tank, which is always within

a few rods’ distance from the kitchen, for the purpose of washing

their hands, mouth, and feet. Almost all young women go into the

water and wash the dress they had on while at dinner. Now they use

_meeshie_, a kind of black powder to clean their teeth a second

time, which, as a national peculiarity, are bright and smooth as

pearls. This powder is a preparation of three or four materials; and,

although it is black, leaves no darkness on the teeth. It has also a

fine taste. The little children, unable to resist the temptation, eat

the powder while cleaning their teeth with it.

Then comes the toilet. The head is decorated, the hair fixed with

much care and skill. One woman sits behind her friend to fix her

hair, which is always dark, thick, flowing, and sometimes so long

as to reach the knees. They do not use hair-pins or ribbons; some

delicate stitches of thread made in braiding the waste hair are

used to tie the _Kho-pă_, or knot, which, when properly made,

looks “_splendid_,” as the girls call it. A gay dress is worn,

ornaments are put in their proper places, some attar of rose is

sprinkled over the dress, hair, &c., and after this the young lady

is all right,--ready to receive callers, or to go to parties, if

it were customary. But they must see and enjoy praise, comment upon

and find fault with each other’s dress or personal accomplishments

by themselves, as hardly any outsider, especially a male, gets any

chance to see them. Sometimes the women living in houses adjoining

assemble in one, where they spend the time in playing cards, telling

stories, or feeding on gossip. The subjects of their conversation are

the following, which they speak upon briskly, even within the space of

a few minutes:--First, the dinner, how it was cooked, by whom, and of

what it consisted. Now one regrets she could not succeed very well in

cooking fish, and puts too much salt in it; another specifies every

material of which the _Ban-jun_ consisted. Second, the ornaments,

the price and quality of the gold and silver which they are made of.

Third, husbands, their tempers, affections, liberality, and age, etc.

Fourth, the property, the dress, ornaments, bodily and mental qualities

of the neighbors, etc. In some of these I perceive that human nature is

everywhere the same.

In this country the women do not regard it as useless talk, while busy

in knitting or sewing, to inquire of the lady with the pink bonnet who

made her dress, who cut the pattern, or to speculate upon the wealth of

the man Sarah is engaged to, etc.

The Hindoo women have no sewing to do; there is simply a long piece of

cloth worn round the body in a graceful manner, forming gown, sack,

bonnet, and all. They now and then make fancy articles, such as small

baskets covered with broadcloth, and elegantly set with shells of

various description, flowers with wax, rags, or paper, hanging sleeves

studded and fringed with shells and silk, etc. But these they cannot

make money out of, as it would be a disgrace to a family to hold

anything made by the gentle sex for sale.

Some poor high-caste woman, however, may dispose of her things

privately among her nearest relations. The meeting of the young women

in Bengal is often marred with sad incidents; it is quite certain

that some one will go home with tears in her eyes, caused by jokes or

unkind words of her comrades. Then the friends of the injured take the

matter into consideration, and do not hesitate to commit vengeance with

fourfold rash words and cursing. As they are not taught to read or

write, the rest of their time is spent in telling or hearing legends of

gods, stories of demons, tigers, etc.

Now Christian women, only think of the daily occupation of your sisters

in Bengal! How would you like to be in your room all the time, to

speak to only a few of your own sex, to take your meals in a solitary

corner of the kitchen, to consume the golden time in telling or hearing

nonsensical stories, worshipping idols made of “wood and stone,” and to

die in ignorance and superstition? Would you be willing even for a day

to lose the pleasure of reading your Adam Bede, Harper’s or Atlantic

Monthlies, or be deprived of the privilege or power to investigate

the contents of envelopes forwarded by parents, friends, and beaux?

Having had the pleasure of spending a couple of years among you, the

knowledge that I have of your condition, privileges, abilities, and

culture, I know what answer you would make. Let us then pray to our

God and their God that in his good time he would ennoble the condition

of his daughters beyond Christendom, and raise noble, earnest souls as

missionaries to work in His harvest!

BOOK SECOND.

INTRODUCTION.

The chief object of the following book will be to treat of the religion

of the Hindoos.

By religion of the Hindoos, I do not mean the genuine Hindoo religion

which was prevalent in India in remote ages,--not the Hindoo religion

as it was, but as it is; not what the _Bathăs_ taught, or the

_Rheeshies_ lived under, but what the Shastars, Poorans, and

Tuntros teach, and the mass, both the Brahmuns and other castes,

observe to-day, as the “life and light,” and the absolute way to reach

_Goluck_ (pleroma of Krishto, Happiness). What mighty revolutions

time achieves in the religious, moral, social, intellectual, and

political conditions of men! Read the ancient Scripture of the Hindoos,

observe the pure, sublime doctrines they inculcate, watch the Monees

and Rheeshies in their cottages of light, attend the court of Ram,

Kornos, or Joodhistres, and then come down to the Shastars and the

Thejos of the present day. You will be surprised to see the spacious

gulf of difference between them. A manifestation of sad change will

greet your eyes wherever you cast them,--either on the religion, the

language, the manners, or the customs of the people. This sad change

has reached the very fibre and nerve of Hindoo life, both external and

internal. A noble, large-minded Brahmun, the learned principal of the

Government of the Sanscrith College, says in one of his books to this

effect, that by careful examination we see the Hindoos of the present

day appear quite different from those of ancient times, so much so,

that they seem like a different race.

Look at the sad contrasts and corruptions. The ancients believed

“_om ākŏ mabŏ thee te ung_;” in English, “there is _one_

God, without a second.” Now the people have hosts of gods whom they

daily worship! There was no caste system, none such as we see now,--a

system which forbids any close social relations between the members of

separate castes. The Brahmuns often used to dine and intermarry with

the Khatryas.

We read in the Hindoo religious books that the Brahmuns were often

entertained by other castes, thus: Doorbāsha eats the food cooked by

Throw-pothee; Krishto, in a Brahmun attire, demands hospitality from

Koxmo. Ogusth dines at Hillol and Bathaw-bee’s; Sacoontola gives her

hand to Doosh montha. Instances of a similar nature could be cited by

hundreds, which would clearly show that the ancient Hindoos had no such

religion, manners, and customs as those of the present day. The ancient

Hindooism, though far inferior to Christianity, is superior to, and

more rational than, the Egyptian, Grecian, or Roman paganisms. Yea, by

careful examination, a candid man would see that even Judaism, just as

it is, is inferior to the spirit of _Aurjā_.

As I compare carefully the instructions, the ceremonies, the mode

of worship, the representation of the Almighty in those two ancient

religions, I should suppose that modern Judaism was the corruption of

primitive Hindooism, and that in falling into the hands of the nations

round Judæa, who had comparatively a dark faith of their own, and on

account of its being associated with Christianity, it became the

object of their admiration. If the true worship is that which is free

from forms, but is in spirit and in truth,--if neither this mountain

nor the temple is strictly the seat of God or the place of worship,--if

God does not care for sacrifices or incense, but chooses a true and

contrite heart,--then the religion which prescribes such forms, no

matter when, how, or under what circumstances, is not equal to one

which is entirely free from any form or ceremonies. To bring this

matter to the light, I would try to illustrate it with distinctness.

There is a theory diametrically opposite in its substance to that which

the Jews and the Hindoos receive of their respective religions. Even

most Christians adhere to the theory, that in the world’s infancy, when

the children of clay were not prepared to receive a revealed religion,

to digest strong food, the All-wise Creator gave the Jews the law,

commanded them to build Him a temple, an altar, to offer sacrifices and

burn incense unto Him. But the Brahminical theory is different. It says

that Hindoos, in the Sootojoog, or the age of truth, built no marble

temple to God, but dedicated the pure, the contrite heart as the seat

of Brohmo; used no material offering or incense, but faith, gratitude,

and love, in their worship of their Creator.

But in course of time, impurity and injustice increased “with the

increase of human population,” the mind of man learned to admire the

things around him. His eyes were dazzled with the products of art in

its various forms. The life of simplicity gave place to luxury; the

pursuit of worldly pleasures so much occupied the attention of man

that it seemed impossible for him to spend time in mere speculation

concerning an invisible Deity. Shastars came forth to remedy these

corruptions, by introducing substitutes for the lost faith. Temples of

marble or of precious stone, altars covered with silver and gold, and

dazzling images, filled up the length and breadth of the country.

* * * * *

The four great epochs, or the Zoogs, of the Hindoos, which show the

peculiar features of the moral and religious condition of the people,

have been treated of by several foreign writers. I would simply touch

them in order to describe the changes therein. As I do not remember

exactly the length of these Zoogs, how many years each contained, I

would not dare to speak of them, but feel willing to bring out some

leading points for our present use.

The first is called the Shorto, or the age of truth; the second is

_Treta_, curiously called so, although it means “Third”; the third

is Dwapur; and the fourth, or last, is Kolie, the age of darkness, sin,

etc. In the Shorto Zoog, as we read in our ancient books, everything

concerning the external or internal appearance of man indicated

simplicity and peace. What we read of the simple, rural, righteous

lives of Adam, Eve, and Abraham, was exactly so with the Hindoos of

the first Age. Their dwelling stood upon peace, supported by pillars

of brotherhood, and roofed by love. The inmates were simple in their

dress, temperate in their food, childlike in their temper, pure in

their affection, and strong in their faith towards God. The lion and

the lamb met at the same crib in these cottages of love. No gods or

goddesses were known or worshipped then except the Creator, “the Father

of all.” They used to address each other by the terms _debŏ_,

_dabe_, god and goddess, and to treat, regard, and recognize each

other as the creations of Krishto, or by another word, the image of

the same. All had the right to draw from out of the great source of

spiritual comfort, the sacred Bāthos (Vedas). The loving Father, “Bisho

Pitha,” the good spirit, “Porom Aut-on,” was alone worshipped, loved,

held as sovereign, recognized everywhere and in every circumstance.

Nothing was more earnestly and at first sought as the pearl of

unspeakable worth, yea, more than that, as the true destiny, than the

true manhood of piety, the path of righteousness, which leads men

safely to the great terminus of our career,--the “Shorgo,” the Heaven

of God. Other objects of life received but slight attention; the

thought, What shall we eat, what shall we drink, and wherewithal shall

we be clothed? did not overwhelm them, for they believed in their own

proverb, “Those who walk in the path of righteousness get their bread

even in midnight;” that is, they know no disappointment, and have hope

and faith forever. It must be remembered here, that this proverb of

the Hindoos is a parallel to, or at least conveys the same spirit, as

that of Christ’s saying, “But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and

his righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you.” They

were not indolent, however; they did not wait until ready-made “manna”

would fall from the sky, but attended to husbandry, developed and used

their energies to help each other, and at the same time lived a pious,

unspotted life.

The following anecdote gives a fair idea of the life of the people

of that pure age. Krishto once sent his brother to seek out a poor

Brahmun, that he might give him some alms. Accordingly he started on

his sacred mission, and encountered a Brahmun in a rice-plantation. He

was diligently engaged in picking up the stray grains of rice that had

fallen down to the holes in the ground, by means of a stick with some

glue on the end of it. Boloram, the brother of Krishto, watched his

proceedings a few moments, advanced towards the Brahmun, and addressed

him in the following words: “Deleō! (god!) may thy servant know the

motive that leads thy hands to seek grains from the furrows in the

ground, and not from the waving, golden stalks before thee!” “Child,”

the sage replied, “with little labor I can gather these grains from

the furrows, and so I do. These stalks, as you see, I have reserved

for those warbling tenants of the air, the children of the Most High,

whose short bills would not reach the stray grains in holes.” “Blessed

sire,” Boloram rejoined, “it will take a long time to gather enough

for your daily meal. My brother solicits the hands of a Brahmun, to

put some gold into them. Should thy hands leave the things here, and

thy feet tread his court, thy servants would deem it a great favor.”

He looked towards heaven with deep reverence, and, turning his loving

eyes towards Boloram, said: “Smile of Heaven, crown him who loves his

fellow-creatures! Child, God has bountifully furnished me with all I

need to earn my living. There are others who are not thus blessed.

Go to them, child, and entertain them with your brother’s charity.”

Krishto, having a curiosity to know more of this Brahmun,--his “piety

at home,”--determined to visit him in his cottage. Late in the

afternoon, filling his basket with rice, the Brahmun came home; his

wife washed his feet, and then cooked the rice. The husband came out to

see if there were any guest at the door, and, not finding any, went in,

bade his wife to sit at meal, and thanked God for the mercy shown unto

them. In the same moment, Krishto, in the disguise of an old Brahmun,

appeared at the cottage door and blessed the inmates. They did not

touch their food then, but left their seats, and, folding their arms,

with reverence addressed their guest. “Joy sheds its charms upon us,

this floor is holy at thy touch. Welcome to it! Thy servants, with all

they possess, wait for thy command.” Krishto replied, “Peace be to your

children!” It would please Brohmo to see us three dine together under

this roof, and sing his praise.” “As it pleases our lord, be it so,”

said the pious couple. They then divided the food equally among them,

and partook of it with gratitude toward the Giver of all. Proceeding no

further, I would stop here to speak of other _Zooga_.

The Zoogas that succeed Shorto present a different picture altogether.

Men have in some measure departed from the state of simplicity, and

have made the frolics of Krishto, with his sixteen hundred female

friends, immortal by their genius. Like the Old Testament God he too

chooses a favorite people, _Pandubas_, walks with them in their

sojourn in the wilderness, brings them back to a land of their own,

excites and helps them to fight with their enemies, etc. At one time he

tries the faith of Korna, asking him to offer his only child of five

years unto him, as did Jehovah of Abraham.

The present age is the Kolie. We who live in it know of course its

leading aspect, the “house divided against itself,” the children rise

against their parents; unnatural affections and disappointments come

thereby; ambition, injustice, selfishness, disregard to holy things,

have attained their full power. In the place of one God, the Hindoo

worships millions; temples, pagodas, altars, are seen everywhere.

This is the dark age of the Hindoos. The following is an anecdote

describing the transition between the Zoogas. In order to teach his

favorite servant the knowledge of things, and store his mind with

various experiences, Krishto accompanied him to take a survey over the

world. They came to a farm where two men, apparently tired, begged

them to stop for a moment and help them to adjust a matter that was

troubling them very much. The one was a Brahmun, the owner of the

farm, and the other a laborer hired to work upon it. As the latter

was ploughing the ground, he accidentally turned out a large jar

with pearls and jewels in it. Thanking God for his mercy, he ran to

the Brahmun with the utmost speed, and informed him of the treasure.

He came to the spot and saw the tale was true. The Brahmun told the

workman to carry the wealth to his own house, for he saw it first; but

he would not, fearing it would be a sin to take away the money found

in another’s land. Thus both exhausted their logic in their attempts

to convince each other as to his lawful right to the treasure; but to

no purpose. Krishto did not mind their appeal, and proceeded on his

journey. Shortly after, he returned, and saw both the Brahmun and the

workman fighting and bruising each other. Each claimed the wealth. The

Brahmun says it was found on his farm, therefore it belongs to him. The

workman says he first found it, and it ought to be his. Krishto turned

to his servant, and said, “Do you notice the change? It was just before

the transition of the Zoogas that the man found the money. It was when

_self_ was little regarded; now it is another age when _self_

becomes dominant and exercises absolute sway. The very man who refused

the money then is fighting for it now. Look at the change, child.”

The purity, self-denial, innocence, that once graced their lives

and homes, now seem restless, as if disgusted with their abodes,

and ready to migrate to some more genial sphere. Here and there the

banner of ambition floats on the palaces. Luxury succeeds; display

and injustice dethrone charity. The heart ceases to be the temple

of God. Its every corner is occupied by strange, unchaste, delusive

propensities, found where nobler aspirations once dwelt. The altars

are to be seen here and there, the offerings of beasts are dedicated

unto the gods, ritualism takes the place of the worship in spirit.

The great actors upon the stage are Rama and Rabōna, one a god and

the other a monster. The conduct of Rabōna was such, that it filled

the earth with fear. Both the Shoors and the Oshoors (gods or good

men, and the monsters or cruel tyrants) trembled at his presence. The

complaints against him grew universal; the gods solicited protection

and the interposition of the great Rama, who alone had the power to

check the tyrant Rabōna. Accordingly the incarnation of Bishto appears

in the world to pour out a healing balm over its injured people. Now it

was foretold that the age of Rama will be called Trita, the Third, but

the condition of the world demanded his advent earlier, so the age he

lived in, though second, being the immediate successor of the First,

or Shoto, retained the name Trita, fulfilling the prophecy thereby. We

are introduced to Dawpur now, which means the second. What the world

sowed in the age previous is coming up luxuriantly in this, but the

harvest is by and by. The Trita sows the seeds of confusion, injustice,

impurity, ambition; the Dawpur waters them, and the Kolie gives the

increase. Among others the chief actor on the stage is Krishto, another

incarnation of Bishto. His mission in this is rather delicate in its

nature. After the display of heroic deeds to relieve the world, which

was groaning under the heavy yoke of Rabōna, he feels tired; perhaps

comes to refresh himself, and spend his time in marriage, music, and

romance. Handsome in person, a god in nature, active in movements, a

good musician, he casts a net of charms around a host of young women,

and draws them all out without breaking the net or sinking the vessel.

Hindoo legends say that the prime object of his learning to play his

Banay was to sing the praise of Radha, wife of Awe-an, and who is also

his own wife from eternity.[8]

How much Christianity is needed to regenerate the Hindoos will be shown

when I treat of their idolatrous worship, festivals, etc., in the

following pages. The great mass of the people, properly speaking, have

no idea of God, true humanity, and a future life. In this country, I

notice the death of men does not excite so great a horror as it does

among the Hindoos. A Christian mother calmly resigns herself to the

decree of her God, and commits her treasures to His safe keeping; for

she has hopes of meeting them again in her “Father’s mansion.” But I

have seen Hindoo mothers who in their ignorance beat their breast, and

curse their gods, at the death of their children! They believe that

death breaks the chain of love and affection forever! My mother is in

the habit (as is common with the Hindoo women) of weeping over the sad

remembrance of her lost children and brother: and I used to comfort

her by saying, there is a future state where they from the east, west,

north, and south will meet in their common home. Indeed, Brahminism

is dry, mysterious, sensual, contradictory in itself, and, with its

various forms, pleases the senses, but does not meet the thirst of

spirituality. It does not, or rather cannot, guide the mistaken, humble

the proud, comfort the sorrowing, and teach us in all the vicissitudes

of life to repose our trust in the saying, “_Thy will be done_.”

It has sanctioned the worship of _thirty-three million_ of gods

and goddesses, most of whom you will find in this world, and in the

sky. Of course the Brahmuns say they do not worship these hand-made

idols; these are only the representatives of the unseen deities; but

the lower castes, the large portion of the people, take them for the

gods themselves. I admit the Brahminical ordinances have some hidden

beauty underlying them; but the time has come when everything which

aims to promote the temporal or spiritual condition of man ought to be

as clear as spring, as accessible as air, and as bright as the sun.

Certainly the time has come for the dim lights, here and there, to be

absorbed by the great salutary Light,--for the return of the erring

children to their Father’s home, that they may bend their knees before

the throne of Grace.

Being born and trained in a Brahmun family, I well know the magnitude

of its superstitious life. Almost every day you will hear of the

institution of a new mode of worship, and the discovery of some new

idol. The people, especially the young men, are tired of these things.

Being educated in the missionary and government schools, under the

influence of European knowledge, these young men prove strong obstacles

to the bigoted Hindoos in their discovery of new idols. I know hundreds

who used to drag the images from their seats, and place them somewhere

in the road, fields, or some dirty places. On my way to a friend’s

house, with an image of Shalgram, I looked at it to see whether a

trace of divinity or life could be seen in it or not; and finding but

a round, smooth, black pebble, I dropped it on the ground. The poor

senseless thing fell into a bush, and I had to hunt for it nearly

ten minutes. Not only enlightened young men do such things, but some

priests themselves place and replace idols for their own interest. In

Krishto-poor, a village nearly twelve miles northwest of Calcutta,

there is a stone image of Shiba, which they say is full of life, power,

and compassion. Whether it is naturally so, or carved to signify this,

I cannot tell. It has a rough, thorny surface. A story says that the

“_mool-shun-ash_” (head votary) had been sick of small-pox for

several days, and in the night before the Shun-ash, the god, took the

small-pox in his own body, enabling thereby the sick man to join the

festival. Some one, hoping to secure the living idol in his own hand,

and to trouble its former priest, stole it away in the gloom of night,

and it was not seen for years. They erected another in its stead, but

lately the old fellow, tired of seclusion, lone and homesick, came

again to his former place.

Now I will begin to treat of the Hindoo worship, religious festivals,

and ceremonies; and, to aid the reader, I will describe the

circumstances which gave rise to these things. Foreign writers describe

them as they see them outwardly. Each of them has some meaning,

good or bad, rational or foolish. To narrate these things in order

and precision, I will begin from the month Bois-ak, April, which is

the first month of the Hindoo year, and will describe the holidays,

festivals, worships, etc., that come in the successive months. It

ought to be said here, that, owing to the changes in the almanac, the

increase or decrease of the days in the month, the holidays sometimes

vary their time; thus the car of Juggernauth is drawn on the 27th of

June, or sometimes early in July.

CHAPTER I.

BOIS-AK, APRIL.

THE NEW YEAR’S DAY.--THE CHANGE OF ACCOUNT-BOOKS.--SACRED

CHOIR.--DEDICATION OF WATER-PITCHER.--WOMEN’S

CEREMONY.--WAY-SIDE HOSPITALITY.--THE IDOLS IN WATER.

Although there are months many and days many, the Hindoo regards some

with peculiar reverence, believing they have in their very nature some

efficacy and sacredness which others have not. The acts of benevolence,

charity, and devotion performed in them will be of more value than the

same things done at any other time; thus a gift to a Brahmun in the day

of full moon would be more efficacious, bear more fruit, than at any

other time. As I have determined to state the significance of some of

the Brahminical institutions, I would ask the reader to fix his eyes

on the prudence and somewhat innocent cunning of the learned priests.

As Brahminism regards _faith_ as fruitless unless manifested

in deeds, it joins some acts of charity to every form of worship or

devotion. Now the poor people cannot possibly offer gifts or bring

sacrifices to the temple often. For their convenience some especial

months, days, or hours have been selected that they might do something,

which is, after all, “better than nothing.”

Three months out of the twelve are regarded comparatively sacred by the

Hindoos; viz. Bois-ak, Kartic, and Magh,--April, October, and January.

Bois-ak and Magh are the most sacred. The former commences the

Hindoo new year, and everything assumes a new aspect. The merchants,

the storekeepers settle the accounts of the past year, by paying

their debts and receiving their payments. The stores and offices are

fancifully decorated; the scales and weights are washed and worshipped;

debtors and all customers are invited to spend the evening, &c. In

the evening the store is beautifully illuminated. The head-clerk

or the master himself sits on the cushion with a writing-desk and

account-books before him, in which he enters the names of those who

pay their debts in part or full. Some, as an expression of good-will,

deposit money in advance; while others, on the contrary, cannot pay

their real debts, and consequently miss the cakes, sweetmeats, fruits,

and music with reluctance. However, on the whole, with the inability

of some, and the liberality of other customers, the _book_

commences the year cheerfully. On the head of the first page of each

book two round figures are marked with red and yellow powders. Every

day the book begins by depositing a little money to some deity, and at

the close of the year this little money is accurately collected and

disposed for the worship.

During the sacred month, a band of singers, composed of from two to six

persons, comes to the door early in the morning to sing a hymn. They

get some compensation at the end of the month. Sometimes two or three

parties come at a time; and one sings while the others wait. It would

be an irreligious act to turn them out; whether you care for them, and

wish to hear their music, or not, it would not make any difference.

The fact is, the praise of the gods is to be sung at the door of each

Hindoo. Sometimes a man or low-caste woman comes to the door to do what

a Christian is strictly forbidden to do, that is, to take the name of

the Lord in vain. One hundred and eight times the name of Krishno is

repeated in different ways!

_Dedication of Water-Pitcher._--On the first day of this month the

Hindoos of all castes dedicate _ghut_, or pitchers, to the gods,

deceased forefathers, &c. These _ghuts_ are earthen, brazen, or

silver, according to the circumstances of the dedicator. The common

belief of the people is this, that the ancestors, long since dead, feel

thirsty in the hot Bois-ak, and the water thus dedicated by sacred

words (_mon-tro_) will be beneficial to them. The ignorant mass

believe so, otherwise they would not do anything of the kind. But the

prudent priest will tell you that in the honor, and to the name of,

and as a token of respect to, the deceased fathers, we dedicate these

and distribute them to the Brahmuns. There is no particular number of

the _ghuts_. It varies from three to any indefinite number. They

are all placed in rows, with trays full of fruits on their tops. The

first is offered to the favorite god; the second, to the dead or living

pastor, _gooroo_,[9] of the worshipper; the third, to the father,

if he is dead; the fourth, to grandfather, &c. In this way, following

the thread of genealogy, they go, step by step, to a great distance

back, both on the paternal and maternal side.[10]

In this month, the Hindoo women perform religious ceremonies of

various sorts. These differ according to the age of the females. The

maids, that is the girls under seven, eight, or nine, perform those

of an elementary character, which initiate them into higher grades of

religious observances. For the amusement of my Christian sisters, I

will narrate some ceremonies performed by my sisters in Bengal. “Jom

Pooker” (Pluto’s Tank) is a vat dug in the earth, nearly three feet

square and one foot deep; some water-lilies are planted in it, small

alligators and sharks made of earth are put in also; the images of

Pluto are placed on the four corners of the tank. Before breakfast the

young girl comes, to worship the tank, with flowers. Sitting by it she

pours a little water into the tank, then puts flowers on the head of

the Plutos, offering prayers in poetry. Here is the translation: “I

worship this tank of Pluto. As a reward, I will feed on cream-cakes on

plates of gold, and wear _shun-kho_ forever.” In the afternoon

is the worship of _Shā jooty_. There is a large collection of

drawings on the floor. This custom is good, in one respect at least,

for it requires the girls to draw the pictures of houses, animals,

rivers, boats, trees of all sorts, carriages, temples, gods, sun, moon,

&c. every day.

The accompanying plate contains “Shā Jooty,” with the pictures as drawn

by the Hindoo girl. She uses prayers in rhyme, and I will translate one

which she offers to _Shiba_: “O, good Shiba, grant that I may not

fall in the hands of a dunce.”

Now I will leave the girls and see what the married women do in the

sacred month. To speak of the matter intelligently, I must proceed in

order, because they observe a great many ceremonies from the morning to

the afternoon. Where do those women go, with flowers in their little

baskets and small pitchers in their hands? They go to bathe in the

river; let us follow them and watch their proceedings. See, they take

a little water in their hands and sprinkle it over their heads before

they go in. The reason is, they deem it sin to touch the sacred Gunga

by the foot; but as they have got to go in, they put a little water on

the head as a token of reverence, and slowly say, “Mother, forgive!”

There you see they turn their faces towards the north as they dive.

There are reasons for this too. In the north there is the mountain,

Hymalaya, from which the river rises; and, again, it is desirable to

have the sun on the right. Facing north, they pay respect to both

sacred objects at the same time. What do they put flowers in the water

for? That is the way in which the Hindoos worship their gods. Look at

the right, a little way off, and you will see the men are doing the

same. When I was a little boy, I used to go to bathe with my father,

and pick up the beautiful flowers, the rose and lotus, as they floated

on the silvery water of the Ganges. But there are other ways of getting

flowers; you need not take the trouble of picking them up; simply take

one flower from the water, set it on the basket, and the basket with

its contents will be yours. Or you may do this: touch the basket with

your toe, or smell a flower and drop it over the others. I hated to do

such things because it would only trouble the worshippers as well as

show our own indecency.

The women have done their bathing and worship; they are filling their

brazen and copper pitchers with water; not for their own use; you will

see in a minute what they do with it. Strange! why do they walk round

that large tree? And what a splendid tree is that! That is the Bannian.

I dare say in your geography there is mention of this sacred tree of

the Hindoo. They call it _Burr_, and hold it sacred, for in the

time of the universal deluge, their god, Un-un (_the Endless_) had

floated on a Burr-leaf. The fact, although merely a poetical one, has

placed the tree in the rank of the gods. The Hindoos, as you have seen

before, worship it, adorn the stem with flower-wreaths, paint it with

all sorts of powders, and water the roots with great care. They do not

cut and use the banian wood for fuel. When it grows old, decays, or

dies, only one Brahmun out of hundreds would be willing to use it. The

laws of the Hindoos protect it, and a fine or some other punishment is

inflicted upon a person who should chop it with an axe. But a Brahmun

can do it without experiencing any trouble. I think it is an admirable

law which protects such a shady tree as Burr. The learned men call it a

natural curiosity. Those cord-like roots, now hanging in the air, will,

a few years hence, reach the ground and form new stems.

We have followed the Hindoo women back to their houses, now let us

patiently witness the rest of their superstitious observances. There,

you see, as they go they bow down to the gods of “wood and stone,”

which crowd the sides of the streets and highways in India.

The servant brings a cow, which these mistaken women would worship, as

you will see. First of all, the worshipper pours water on the feet of

the cow, as she cannot wash them in any more convenient way; then she

puts some oil and yellow powder on her forehead; and gives her some

fresh, green grass and bananas to eat. The reason why they worship the

cow is this: it is believed that “Doorga,” the great goddess, once took

the form of a cow, at another, the form of a hawk, and, again, the form

of a jackal, and the Hindoos worship them on that account. How much

reverence is paid to the cows, and with what care they are treated,

will be described by and by.

_Fol go-chāno_ (_Gift of Fruits_).--This religious act is

performed by giving some kind of fruit, a _poetha_, and a little

money to a Brahmun. This ceremony has its order. In the first year the

girl offers a nut, a banana in the second, a cocoa-nut in the third

year. After the expiration of the term, the Brahmun who had received

the first nut will be entertained at dinner and get a suit of clothes.

_Bois-ak Champaka_ receives its name from the month in which it is

observed, and the flower _champaka_, which is put into a Brahmun’s

hand to smell. The women take a vow to feed a Brahmun luxuriously every

day in this month. As they are forbidden to eat or drink anything until

the Brahmun has been fed, and as it often happens that he is not to

be found, they secure him by the invitation the day before. Sometimes

a Brahmun gets several invitations in one day, but he accepts only

the one which comes first. When he comes in, his hostess washes his

feet, wipes them with her _un-chol_, the border of the dress, and

leads him to a room where he is entertained with all the dainties of

the season. Frequently a funny affair at this time takes place in the

dining-room. As the custom is for a Hindoo woman to keep silence and

veil her face before almost all persons, and as it is a natural desire

in young men to see her face, or hear her voice, especially if she is

young, the Brahmun guest plays several tricks to accomplish his end. He

would not eat heartily, but merely put his hand on this and that, or

cut a piece of cake with his teeth as if he had no appetite; hoping his

youthful hostess would beg him to help himself. In such cases, she who

is faithful to, and a sincere observer of all the rules and discipline

of her sex, goes out for a moment to bring some elderly woman with her,

who acts her part, though to the utter disappointment of the guest. But

if she be regardless of the regulations, and wants a pretext, in that

case everything goes on very nicely. He then washes his hands and face

after dinner and sits down to rest a little, when she gives him some

money to pocket, a few flowers, _Champaka_, to smell, and fans him

for four or five minutes.

_Matha Bantha_ comes in the afternoon. Each woman invites one to

visit her house, whom she entertains in the following manner. In the

first place she anoints her guest with perfuming oil, combs and fixes

her hair, and gives a lunch of cakes and confectioneries. The guest

is always from the Brahmun caste, but no widow is entertained on the

occasion. There are others of the same kind, but I omit them, for, as I

fear to increase the bulk of my book, I would use a limited supply of

my materials.

_The Way-side Hospitality._--It has been observed before that the

Hindoo religion teaches some truth, and inculcates acts of charity,

in various ways, which at the first appearance look mysterious and

foolish. Thus the dedication and distribution of the water-pitcher,

fans, umbrellas, etc., in this fiery month, has some visible good

meaning. We can see the loving heart of its founder underlying them

all. But I am sorry to observe that most of the charitable acts of the

Hindoos do not fall like the dews of heaven, blessing the widows, the

orphans, and the needy in general. A man desiring to give alms out of

his limited means, would pass “the poor, the lame, the blind, and the

halt,” unnoticed, and offer his gift to a Brahmun, whether he be the

true object of charity or not. _The wayside hospitality_, as an

act of love, deserves commendation. Although it is a “respecter of

persons,” it assumes an aspect of universality, and sheds its light

over people of all classes, colors, and creeds; even the irrational

creatures, the beasts of burden, are recipients of its blessings.

Cottages are built by the side of the roads, where the tired passengers

refresh themselves, by means of the hospitality of private individuals.

Each cottage has a hired host who asks the passer-by to walk in and be

rested. The Brahmuns very rarely go to such places, for it does not

seem respectable to them to partake of a charity so public. Low-caste

passengers resort to these places, and are entertained with sugar, wet

peas, and cold water. Large tubs with water in them are placed outside

of the cottage for the cattle and other beasts of burden.

The Hindoos bathe their idols every day in this month. The reason

for doing this will be easily known. In this warm month, the

Bengalees (most of them at least) bathe themselves twice a day;

the young children swim in ponds; even the cattle are led to the

water and are bathed. The Hindoo is taught to “serve others like

himself,”--“_auttio buth sabā_,”--so when he feels hungry,

thirsty, tired, sleepy, warm or cold, he believes the idols do the

same, and he ministers to them under these circumstances as he would

like to be ministered to. Hence the images have warm clothes for

winter and thin for summer; they are provided with all the necessary

comforts of the season. The mode of bathing the idols is the following.

After offering the dinner to the gods of stone or metal, the priest

puts them on a copper vessel, burying them under fragrant flowers of

various kinds, and another vessel with water in it is hung right over

the whole. This has some small holes at the bottom, through which

water drops on the gods below and keeps them cool thereby. Toolshee,

a favorite plant of Krishto, is treated in the same way, only it is

not put in a copper vessel. The priest, who has the care of a great

many idols in different places, walks round in the evening to take

them out of the water, wipes them with towels, and offers them some

luncheon to eat. In wealthy families this meal is very luxurious,

capable of feeding twenty persons with all the varieties of fruits and

confectionery. As this lunch is sent to the Brahmun families, the low

castes cannot partake of its contents unless the receiver gives them a

little. In a place where there are two or three fame-seeking rich men,

the dishes compete with each other to the satisfaction of the Brahmuns,

who, of course, get a great deal on this occasion. There are two ways

of disposing of the contents of the dish; the one, as I have observed,

in sending it to the houses of the Brahmuns in turn, and the other in

inviting them to refreshments in the evening.

If the weather be insufferably warm in May, no water or luncheon will

be offered unto the idols; the first and last days of April are two

impassible limits, which seem to say, “Thus far shalt thou come and no

farther.” Again, the poor lowest castes cannot be the direct recipients

of this charity. They carry the loaded dish by the cottage whose

inmates are in poverty, fasting, and helplessness, and leave it at the

door of a priest. As I reflect upon the inferiority of the low caste to

the Brahmuns, and think that the Hindoos hate to set anything before

them which belongs to the priest, I remember the saying, “Give not that

which is holy unto the dogs.” The low caste is just as polluted to a

Brahmun as an unclean beast. If a Brahmun carelessly touch a dog, he

will wash himself, and in case he touch a shoemaker or hog-keeper, the

same precaution is to be taken!

Thus ends Bois-ak the first month of the Hindoo year, doing good to the

people in general, but caring more for the favored caste, the Brahmuns.

The heavenly wisdom says, “God is no respecter of persons.” He maketh

His sun to rise upon the just and unjust. It tells us to invite, not

the proud, rich, and high, but the poor, the lame, the blind, the halt;

for such are the true objects of our love and sympathy,--through these

channels our love ought to flow like a stream, to soften the parched

and dry ground.