CHAPTER XII.

CHOITHRO, MARCH.

CHURUCK-POOJA.--HOOK SWINGING.

This is the last month of the Hindoo year, and witnesses that bloody

religious ceremony which is so much talked of in Christian countries.

It is Churuck-pooja; or, graphically, the swinging by the hooks. I

am aware that the Christian missionaries have taken especial care to

describe this fearful institution ably and accurately to their friends

at home. But as they write what they see, not what they know of the

Hindoos, they often fail to treat of the real state of the thing.

However, they are not to blame; for the want of true knowledge of an

object makes its description dry and imperfect.

It has been a belief in Hindoo minds from the remote ages, that

self-torture is essentially requisite for the propitiation of the gods.

The human body being made out of matter which is evil in its nature,

and wars against the spirit, it is desirable to macerate it, and give

dominion to the spirit thereby. This notion has created various orders

of Shun-nashi’s, Shadhoos, Jog-us, Mohuntros, etc., who are common in

India. It did not long remain confined to India, but, crossing its

boundaries, reached the people of Persia, Tartary, Arabia, Turkey, etc.

Its influence was also felt by the Christian Church in her infancy.

In India it manifests itself in some form or other in all the

religious institutions of the people. I have seen a man offer prayer

to Shiba, standing on his head; others on one leg for hours under the

burning sun. Some would not eat or drink anything unless it should

be put in their mouths, while others would not lie down at all for a

certain number of years. Nearly three years ago there came a Shadhoo

into our village, who spent a whole day and night on foot. His

disciples said that many years had seen him eat, drink, and rest in

that position, and perhaps his head will not touch the earth until it

does forever.

The subject of this chapter traces its origin from that singular

belief of which we have spoken. Ban Raja, a king of great religious

enthusiasm, is said to have instituted this ceremony in honor of Shiba.

From the fifteenth of March the Mool Shun-nashee, with others, walks

round the place at the pretended permission of Shiba.[26] They carry

with them a great quantity of Oothuries, or thread, and finding a

low-caste man within reach, they put a Oothuries round his neck, crying

aloud, “Tarash-orāre nash Shiba!” From that moment the poor man becomes

one of the party, forsaking his professional business until the end of

Shun-nash. This mode of enlistment seems to command the victim, “Follow

me, and let the dead bury their dead.” There is no way for his getting

out free; he must wear the badge of Oothuries, and walk day and night

with the party at the penalty of excommunication or a fine.[27]

It is to be observed here that the Brahmuns do not join the party

at all: they put heavy burdens upon others, but do not help them

with their fingers. Hence the Shun-nashees are always from the poor,

ignorant, low castes. As there is no fixed limit to the number of

Shun-nashees, they enlist hundreds within a few days. However, the

number is great or small, according to the popularity of the idol.

Though every idol is of Shiba and every temple is his abode, yet some

are believed to possess the fullness of the god in greater degree than

others, and are revered by the people accordingly. Thus there are

three temples of Shiba in one village, and one of them draws crowds of

worshippers toward it, which fact increases its income, and its priests

receive a great deal. Now Shun-nashees thus gathered together spend the

rest of the month in visiting the idols of Shiba and their brethren in

different villages,--very like to the custom of the fire-companies in

this country, who receive from, and make visits to, their friends of

neighboring towns. When two or more parties come in collision, they

stand in order, and salute and embrace each other with loud shouts of

“Tarash-orare nash Shiba!” Each party has some leading men, who sing

a few verses, desiring their friends to expound or solve them as the

nature of the question would require. The trumpets are sounded, the

bells rung, the flags waved, and the staves carried by hundreds. As

they march in procession their music and shouts deafen the ears and

make heads ache.

On the day before the Churuck-pooja, the ignorantly mistaken as well

as daring men in the party make _bans_, or pass the thick iron or

bamboo sticks through the skin of their arms and tongue. Indeed, it

is a fearful sight! Not only do the grown-up men do such things, but

boys of thirteen years or more pass sticks through their skin. I have

seen men pass four Sholas (bamboo sticks of the thickness of our first

finger) through the different parts of their left arm, and binding some

extra ones with them, make a little terrace, with a vine creeping over

it. Others make a hole in their tongue sideways, and pass through it

the tail of Gochora (the flat-headed, venomous snakes). Thus arranged,

they go to the houses of the gentlemen and dance there a quarter of

an hour, getting a little money for compensation. By a little money,

I mean from a quarter to a whole dollar. The money thus realized is

disposed of in making some vile shows before the temple, and to buy

intoxicating liquors for those who exhibit these bloody feats. A

low-caste old man in our village was preparing some fine Sholas, to

show a feat altogether new and surprising; but he died before the time

came. Among other things his beloved wife remarked, in the course of

her lamentation, that “he made grand preparation to excel others in the

_ban_, but could not succeed!” Then comes the Churuck the next

day, with an aspect more dreadful than the _bans_.

In the morning, the Shun-nashees all go to bathe, and gather a large

number of cocoa-nuts, bananas, and other fruits. Before the temple,

the _Jhap_ is performed. It is a terrace made by sticking some

bamboo poles in the ground, and sometimes rises twenty feet high. The

Shun-nashees, both young and old, climb up the terrace and stand in

two rows, one above the other; the spectators stand all round; some

climb up the trees, to get a better view. A few men post themselves

near the foot of the terrace, holding a large bag in their hands, by

which they receive the men who jump down from the terrace, one after

the other. This bag is stuffed with dry leaves, so as to make it soft,

and a _Botty_ (kind of large knife, not very sharp) is put over

it. When everything is ready, then Mool Shun-nashee bends his head

to the god, takes leave of the brethren on the terrace, scatters the

flower-wreaths, raw rice, bananas, etc., to the crowd below, and,

lastly, jumps down on to the bag, or, rather, the mattress. After him,

all the Shun-nashees jump down in the same way, one by one, amid the

deafening shouts of the crowd and the sound of the trumpets.

In the afternoon, the order of the exercises is as follows. Before

going to the Churuck, the Shun-nashees ask the god’s permission, which

he gives by a nod, seen by the priests only. They put some flowers on

the head of the idol, and if one of them, at least, should slip down

from it, it is interpreted as the pleasure and permission of Shiba.

Sometimes the flowers do not fall easily, being at the centre of the

idol’s head. This is interpreted as owing to the anger of the god.

As the Shun-nashees are to fast certain hours of the day, and live

according to the rules appointed by the priests, it is believed that

they have violated the rules, by eating or drinking, which circumstance

has offended the all-knowing Shiba. Hence, seeing the flowers do not

fall from the idol, the priests command the officers to bind the

Shun-nashees and beat them with stripes. I have seen the young boys

roll round the temples, their hands tied together, in order to appease

the enraged god. It is curious that they always suspect the boys of

violating the rules of the Shun-nashee’s life, even if they observe,

with their native earnestness, almost every “jot and tittle” of the

regulation. It is the grown-up, old, indifferent men, who privately

eat and drink, I believe; and the poor boys suffer for their sin. As

the idol delays to give its permission by a nod, and by throwing some

flowers from its head thereby, the priests interpret its terrible

wrath, and order the town officers to be bound also. It is, however, a

beautiful lesson the Brahmuns teach by this; they say, “The sin of the

king causeth his subjects to suffer, and brings affliction upon them.”

There is a trick which the priests impose upon the people at this time.

They contrive every means to open the window of the temple, in order to

bring a draught within, that it may blow flowers away from the idol’s

head. In my village there is a back window in the temple, through which

the people on the outside look at the proceedings within. They, of

course, prevent the wind from going in, in some degree, and the fanatic

priests drive them all away, cursing and rebuking them shamefully. The

moment a draught of wind has knocked a flower down, they in ecstasy

dance round the temple, clap their hands, embrace each other, and

shout, “Tar-āre Shur-are nash Shiba!” etc.

In this state of excitement, they form a procession and march down to

the Churuck Tola, which is in some place very near the temple, or but

a little way off. The Churuck Garch, or “Swinging Tree,” is a heavy,

long, wooden pole, set up perpendicularly, with one end on the ground,

with _moche_ like the main-yard of a ship on its top, and which

can be turned round either way. Sometimes the Churuck Garch is nearly

twenty feet high. A man--the poor victim to the Churuck--bends down

on his knees and hands, while another draws out the skin about his

shoulder-blades, and the Cormokar, or the blacksmith, forces two iron

hooks (ten inches or more long) into the skin and the muscles. Some

daring man will suffer four iron hooks to pass through the different

parts of his body, so as to show his proficiency in the affair. There

are some strong cords fastened to the hooks, which also are attached

to a long, thick cord, and the man is drawn up to one end of the yard.

To keep the balance right, a man climbs half way on the rope attached

to the other end of the yard. Thus bound and hung, the victim jumps

in the air, and turns round the “Swinging Tree” from ten to fifteen

minutes.

Once, in my grandmother’s village, I witnessed a scene more desperate

than the above. A man swung round the pole nearly fifteen minutes in

the air, with his head downwards, and four iron hooks catching him by

the skin. His long hair began to wave in the air, and his hands beat a

drum which was fastened to the same cord. But expert as he seemed to

be, he could not as yet make good music. In some places several men

hang in this way in succession. I wonder that these men do not seem

to feel very much hurt; for I have seen them go to their respective

work within a couple of days. Coming down from the Churuck Garch, the

victims receive the benediction from the priest, who blesses them with

a flower from the altar, as a sacred relic.

The morning after the Churuck, the Shun-nashees gather together before

the temple, take off the Oothuries, or the sacred badges, from their

necks, return them to the priest, and shave a part of their heads (for

during the term of Shun-nash they are forbidden to shave their heads or

cut their nails). After this, they bathe in the river or tanks, as the

situation of the place will permit, and go to their own homes, eased

from the bondage of superstition.

There is one peculiarity, however, in the Churuck-pooja which is worth

noticing. During the Shun-nash term, the band is organized somewhat on

the principles of brotherhood, each member bearing a kind, brotherly

affection toward another,--an affection they do scarcely dream of

before. If one of the party dies during these holidays, they all

put on mourning according to the custom of the Hindoos. An insult to

one is felt by all, for they being different are yet the members of

the same body in Shiba. They regard the badge they wear round the

neck as binding them together into the sacred bond of fraternity. The

ever-vigilant, ever-living caste system interferes, of course, with

their manifesting fully the relation they bear towards each other.

The Shun-nashees of different castes would not eat at the same table

or drink out of the same cup, although in other respects they do not

observe all the regulations of the caste.

Thus ends the Hindoo year with so many religious festivals, holidays

full of degrading and demoralizing amusements, and ceremonies bloody

and mistaken. Though the internal spirit of these hosts of religious

institutions tends to devotional and charitable purposes, yet the

influence of their outward appearances confounds and corrupts the

weak-minded Hindoo. The people in general do not strip them of the

veil, in order to find out the real significance within. They hardly

understand what those rites and ceremonies do mean, but in their

ignorance take them just as they are, and worship all corporeal

objects as true gods and goddesses. This feature of the religious

belief among the low and ignorant classes is very gloomy, for they are

hardly taught to recognize the difference between man and God. The

Brahmuns, the priests of these people, do not have a regular mode of

religious teaching. In the temples, by the side of the Gunga, under

the sacred Burr (banian-tree), or in their houses, very few words

are spoken by way of religious instruction. By some fixed mechanical

rules they are taught how, what, and when to eat, drink, bathe, walk,

speak, and sleep, and in these their religion consists. The language

of the prayers, being Sanscrith, is unintelligible to the worshipper

himself. Very few attempt to understand the phraseology of the

prayer, and think it improper to handle the inspired words. In the

prayer to Shuresh-sotte, or the muse, I find the description of almost

every inch and each member of her person, with rich, glowing poetical

imagery, which a sensible man ought not to apply to her, his mother

goddess. So it will be found that most of the Hindoo prayers are

immoral, yet beautiful representations of the personal graces of the

male and female deities, which simply please our senses and bewilder

our reason, instead of creating a deeper sense of reverence in our

religious nature. Again, the want of a regular system of religious

instruction has brought into the minds of the people all sorts of

mistaken, erroneous ideas respecting God, man, and duty; life, death,

and immortality. The man on the very verge of his life, standing

between the edges of this and the next world, hardly knows where he

is bound, whom he is going to, and what will be his true destiny. He,

under the burden of superstition, recognizes his god in the person

of the Brahmun, standing near his death-bed, or in the sacred Ganges

glittering yonder. If he should unfortunately die at home, or on

Tuesday or Saturday night, it is believed the gates of heaven will be

closed against him, until the Brahmuns, by some peculiar ceremony,

should exorcise his spirit, and with mortal hands open the gates of

Paradise! This is the substance of modern Brahminism. Its belief is

erroneous, its influence pernicious, and the end which it contemplates

as destiny is dark. It makes piety to consist in the ordinances, in

the law, such as in bathing, fasting, eating certain things, offering

worship to some visible objects on some fixed days. Besides what has

already been treated as the leading features of the Hindoo religion,

there are some additional religious institutions, which I will describe

to the reader before the close of the book.

Building temples to the gods, digging tanks, and planting trees on

the wayside, are considered very pious. This belief has prompted the

Hindoos to spend immense wealth in the erection of temples, which crowd

the banks of the Ganges. The number of the temples varies according to

the circumstances of the man; either two, twelve, or one hundred and

eight are to be erected and dedicated unto the gods. There are very few

men who have dedicated one hundred and eight temples at a time. There

are some, however, at the expense of the Rajah of Burdwan, which I hear

are very costly. On the banks of the Ganges, in lower Bengal, there are

several Ghauts (bathing-places) erected with brick or marble. Their

stairs are sometimes twenty feet wide and lead into the water several

feet deep. On both sides of the Ghaut either two or twelve temples are

erected for the abode of the idols. At the time of the dedication,

people are entertained at a great feast, money is distributed to the

Brahmuns, and the temples are adorned and illuminated.

The digging of tanks, especially where there is a scarcity of water,

is commendable, and a part of religion. I can see the necessity of

annexing this to the religion, for in a warm climate, were people use

water so much, a great many tanks are needed to supply their wants.

Hence we see almost every house in Bengal has a small tank, of twenty

to fifty yards square, attached to it, and in this they raise fish for

the family use. After a tank has been dug, it is filled with water,

partly from the sky, and partly from the earth itself. They stick

a long wooden pole into the centre. The owner of the tank, at the

direction of the officiating priest, crosses it by holding the tail of

a cow. This denotes the idea of crossing the river that glides along

everlastingly between this life and the next. On this occasion, also,

the poor people are entertained; a feast is given to the Brahmuns, etc.

Now the planting trees by the road-side must be noticed. There is,

however, a selection of the place where the trees are to be fixed.

Always the place where three roads from different directions meet

together is preferable. The number and species of the trees are

five,--such as Burr, Oshud, Nim, Bāle, and Amlokee. Five young shoots

of these trees are planted together, which mode is called “The union of

the sacred trees.” Scarcely all of them grow together, for, sacred as

they are, some of them occupy the places and crush the others to death.

_The daily worship._ The rich religious people in India have the

idols in their houses for the daily worship. There is a room entirely

for the accommodation of the idols, like the “baby rooms” in this

country. In it there are a throne, bed, seats, furniture, plates,

dishes, cups, tumblers, bells, wash-tubs, clothes, and ornaments, of

the lifeless gods. In the morning, the family priest comes in, awakes

the idols from their sleep, brings them down from the bed, washes and

wipes them, repeating some prayers and ringing the bell at the same

time. Dressing them according to their shape and size, he worships in

the usual way, by strewing flowers over them, offering them something

to eat, etc. The head member of the family would not eat his meal until

the idols have been cared for. In the evening, the priest comes again,

to give the gods their supper. First of all, he lights “punch-prodip,”

or five lamps, and waves them before the idols. He then puts them in

their respective beds, covers them with clothes, or hangs the mosquito

net round them, as the nature of the weather would require! Just as the

children take care of their dolls, so the Brahmuns serve their idols.

_The public worship._ In every Hindoo country, a party of

young men tax each family once a year and dispose of the money thus

realized in the “worship of twelve friends.” They charge also all the

bridegrooms who come to marry the girls in their village. A splendid

image is erected in the public place of the town, and music and

theatrical performances are held before it. This, taken on the whole,

is the worst of the Hindoo institutions. It corrupts the young, who,

taking this opportunity, do all sorts of immoral acts which they never

dreamt of before. You ask the boys when they learned to smoke, steal,

or quarrel, and they will point out these holidays to you. I remember

distinctly having stolen tobacco and a smoking-pipe (hooka) from my

uncle’s room, to help the smoking party in the garden. Almost all of us

were beginners in this filthy and unhealthy habit. Fearing our parents

would know it, we used to chew a piece of green banana-leaf, which in

some measure takes away the dirty smell from the mouth.

Again, as the musical performances are performed through the whole

night, these boys and young men go round the place, climb up the

cocoa-nut-trees and steal their fruits. As the cocoa-nut-trees are

very tall and the fall of the fruit on the ground makes a loud noise,

some seven boys were once climbing up a tree one after the other that

they might pass down the fruits noiselessly from hand to hand; the

most cunning of them did something to make his successor laugh, and

he doing the same, there wont a peal of laughter from the head to the

foot of the tree, which apprised the owner of his loss. One of the boys

attempting to come down quickly, fell upon some broken glass and was

badly injured. Fortunately I was not with them. To enumerate the evils

that rise from the Hindoo worship and holidays would occupy a book.

Coming out disfigured and bruised from the dark caves of Brahminism,

I hoped the British government would stretch forth its hand at least

against the most immoral, and ruinous institutions of the Hindoos,

because their own eyes are not bright enough yet to notice the defects

thereof. But my

“Hopes that were angels in their birth,

Perished young, like things on earth.”

The late Sepoy mutiny has, as I see, given a lesson which the

government must mind. However there is yet a hope of India’s

regeneration. The influence of the Missionary as well as the government

schools will open the eyes of the rising generation, and thus bring the

matter to a slow but happy close. Father of lights! let Thy knowledge

shine in every creek and corner of the world; and bring it to the

recognition of Thee, who art its Creator, and loving Father! Let India

worship Thee as her God and Father!

MISCELLANEOUS.

India is inhabited by a people of various colors, customs, and

languages; and consequently affords a picturesque scene to the

traveller. As the climate varies in different parts of the country,

the color of the inhabitants changes likewise; although they are one

and the same people, and their origin is the same,--the Indo-Caucasian

Stock. And what is more striking is the difference in the color in one

family. Thus, a mother is dark, the father olive, and the children are

yellow, of different shades,--one is as burning gold, while the other

is as gilded brass.

The people speak different languages in various parts of the

country, but all trace their origin to the great source,--the

Mother Sanscrith. The Bengalee, which has much resemblance to the

Sanscrith, is spoken in Bengal; the Orria in the Orissa, the seat of

the celebrated Jogger-nauth; Tamul in Madras, by the Moharashtros,

and the Hindoosth-anee in its various forms in the regions of the

northwestern provinces, and in Nepaul. Besides, there are several wild

tribes, such as Naug-poorias, and the Saun-tals, who speak tongues of

their own. The Brahmuns, in their religious services, and sometimes

in their conversation, speak Sanscrith, but the other castes use

Bengalee. For illustration I will give specimens of the same thing in

different languages of the country,--_I will go_, is in Sanscrith,

“Jochamee;” in Bengalee, “Amee Jabow;” in Orria, “Mo-ja-bow;” and in

Hindoosth-anee, “Haum gaga.” In their characteristics the Bengalees

are mild, peaceable, intelligent, speculative, and subtle, and those

of Upper India are brave, haughty, warlike, but kind. The Bengalees

in their bodily structure are delicate, while others are robust, and

well built. In the late Sepoy mutiny, the Sepoys--the people of the

northwestern provinces--took the lead, and the Bengalees did not help

them by their fingers. The latter hardly use warlike instruments, while

the former make them their companions. A gentleman in Upper India

carries his sword or a club, wherever he goes; but a Bengalee thinks it

savage to equip in this way.

I have been often asked whether my people smoke and drink or not. The

Bengalees do not smoke cigars, they think it mean, and ungentlemanly;

they use the Hooka in smoking.

The _tamack_, or tobacco, needs much care, and is composed of a

great many ingredients, such as thocta, or tobacco leaves, dry roses,

and banana shells, molasses, cinnamon, etc. These being chopped and

mixed together, are put under the earth for several days. When a person

smokes, the vapor does not come right into the mouth, but, passing

through a long pipe, comes into the bottom of the Hooka, which is

full of cold water, and making its way through another pipe, reaches

the mouth of the smoker. The people of Orissa smoke cigars as in this

country. Drinking spirituous liquors is very common with the young men

in the cities and mercantile places, where the Europeans import a good

supply of wines of various names and natures, and set the natives the

example. The Hindoo religion condemns a man who touches wine, except

in case of alarming sickness, which nothing but spirituous liquors can

cure. “As medicine, _Soora_ is to be used,” is the doctrine of the

Brahmuns. Some people carry it so far that after having recovered from

their sickness, they make _Praosh-chitro_, or atonement, for using

English medicine, which they believe is always prepared with spirit.

Others will not apply to a foreign physician at all, fearing that his

medicine, while it saves the animal man, may strike a death-blow to the

soul. Hence “it is preferable to die by the hand of Boitho, a physician

by caste.”

_Tarie_, or the juice of the palm or date tree, is used by

low-caste people generally. It has intoxicating influences, and is to

be had at a low price. The juice of the palm-tree is taken by squeezing

the stalks, which will fill a large pitcher with _tarie_ in a

few hours. It is used as yeast by the bakers in India. The Hindoos do

not eat meat; they have a great aversion to beef, ham, pork, etc. In

their villages a single cow is not killed in many centuries. The man

who whips his cattle so severely as to make them bleed, is outcasted,

ridiculed, and hated by the public as a _Koshie_, or a butcher.

The Hindoo law regulating the treatment of cattle is very kind to the

beasts and severe to their masters. If a cow, calf, or bull should

die with the rope round its neck, that is, through the master’s

carelessness, the law holds him guilty, and prescribes penances for

him to observe. He is required to walk from door to door, with a piece

of rope round his own neck, a straw in his mouth, and making imperfect

sounds like the cows. After three days of humiliation in this way, he

abstains from food and drink a whole day, shaves his head, offers money

to the Brahmuns, and redeems his sin thereby. Again, if a calf or cow

should fall into a pond and die, both the owner of the pond and that of

the beast, are regarded as sinners. The rational intention of all these

prescriptions is to inculcate the law of care and kindness towards dumb

beasts, especially the useful ones.

_The Knowledge of Art and Science._--The Hindoos from a remote

antiquity cherished the knowledge of the heavenly bodies, reckoned

eclipses, and watched the motion of the stars. These they did and do

by means of their fixed system of astronomy; they have no scientific

apparatus at all. European astronomers calculate the day of the

eclipse, using several instruments, but the Brahmuns do the same thing

without such aid. Architecture was known to them also from a distant

period. The remains of the old temples and ghauts in various parts of

India distinctly speak of their proficiency in architecture. On the

temple walls you will see the representation of the heavenly bodies,

the signs of the Zodiac, and the images of their gods, carved by men

who had lived, so to speak, in the very infancy of the world. The

knowledge of minerals was found among them also, for the universal

use of gold and silver ornaments, and metallic household utensils, is

evidence of the fact. They are unrivalled in the skill of working in

gold and precious stones. The manufacture of fine cotton cloth, such

as Dacai, and of shawls (the Cashmere), has obtained the undisputed

applause of the world.

In fact, the Hindoos did and do largely cultivate all the appliances

of civilized life. Only their knowledge of art, science, and

civilization is not progressive, but limited. They feel satisfied to

live, move, and die within the boundaries of their own acquirements,

and hardly desire to add to or vary from the prescribed institutions

of their forefathers. While the countries beyond Hindostan are making

astonishing advances towards enlightenment, discovering new inventions

for promoting temporal comforts, and introducing the best and choicest

things of the world among themselves, the Hindoos dig trenches round

their borders, and nourish their old national institutions in good

earnest. But there is a strong possibility that a mighty revolution

will take place in the social and spiritual condition of the country.

The introduction of European civilization has dazzled the eyes of the

young, some of whom, (though few,) are now eagerly co-operating with

their friends for the welfare of the country. The School of Industrial

Art, the Civil Engraving College, the Medical College, etc., are

blessings coming from the British Government, and to these the young

men from the high classes resort for instruction and improvement.

The Hindoos possess remarkable genius in imitating almost everything

put before them, provided their caste and religion do not interfere.

The low-caste people who work in the English factories, warehouses,

steamboats, etc., display a ready and admirable talent for the

business. On the Ganges, the uneducated, low castes manage steamboats.

They serve in various capacities in the dockyards, founderies,

factories, etc.

* * * * *

The Hindoos have their own system of agriculture, and raise fruits,

flowers, and grain, of various kinds. The chief productions of their

husbandry are rice, flax, sugar, indigo, cotton, potatoes, peas, beans

of different species, and fruits too numerous to name. India has no

winter; her rivers do not freeze, her high trees stand clothed with

leaves and decked with flowers all the year round; her birds are

merry, her sky fair, her sun bright and warm, her rivers grand, her

mountains high, her children numerous, intelligent, and philosophical,

her religion superstitious, her gods many, and her age old. May she

thrive and grow upward, high as her Hymaloy, giving her light to, and

receiving that from others,--this is the heartfelt prayer of her absent

son.

APPENDIX.

Ever since my arrival in America I have heard with great surprise the

statement, received on the authority of missionaries, that the Hindoo

mothers throw their infants into the river Ganges. Almost every man,

woman, boy, or girl in these United States knows it, and has seen the

illustration of it in various books. During my tour over some sixteen

States and the Canadas, I noticed that the Hindoo mother, her baby,

and the alligator, were the subjects of constant inquiry. The story of

the infants being thrown into the Ganges by their heartless mistaken

mothers, is believed by the people of this country to be either a

custom or a religious institution of the Hindoos.

I am aware that to speak against this prevalent belief is to falsify

the reports of travellers and to criticise the statements of foreign

writers who have disseminated this report throughout the whole

length and breadth of the land. On the other hand, I cannot suffer a

groundless and strange story to run so freely through the Christian

community, and bring upon the poor innocent women of India such

undeserved reproach. I do not wish to cover the really defective

institutions of my country. Her religion, rather than custom, sanctions

suicide in different ways, as manifested in the voluntary offering of

the widows upon the funeral fire of their husbands. The throwing of

babies into the Ganges or to the alligators, then, I would say never

was in the customs or religious ordinances of India. I never heard of

it even as a grandmother’s story; while, on the other hand, my mother

and other friends often spoke of the widows who burned themselves alive

with their dead husbands, of their preparation, their bidding farewell

to their children, committing them to the care of some kind relative,

etc. It seems strange to me, that, being a native of India, a Hindoo,

yea, a Brahmun, by birth, I did not know nor hear of this custom of

my own country, which is known to the people who live nearly eighteen

thousand miles from the same. What did not come to my knowledge during

my twenty-one years of life in India, came to my ear on the day I

reached America. “What is this?” they ask me. “What do they mean?

Hindoo mothers throw their babies into the Ganges to be devoured by the

alligators! Horrible!! Hindoo mothers do such things!! The same mothers

that sit with malshas (earthen pans) with fire burning upon them,

on their heads, shoulders, hands, laps, before the goddess Doorga,

and solicit the health and life of their children! The same that lie

down (hothea) without food and drink before the temple, in case of

the severe illness of their children, and who vow to appear before

the goddess with an axe tied round their necks, or to shed blood by

voluntarily tearing the flesh from their own breasts as an expression

of gratitude for the recovery of their children!”

The Hindoo parents love their children as well as do any parents in

Christendom; or perhaps I should say more, for some reasons of which

Christians are ignorant. The redemption of the Hindoo parents depends

in a great measure upon the lives of the children who send their

spirits to their destination by a peculiar ceremony.[28] They believe

the childless person has no heaven to inherit, no celestial pleasures

to enjoy. The Hindoo religion commands a man to marry several wives, in

order to raise up seed needed for his spiritual welfare, to say nothing

of his temporal. In case of failure, he secures the birthright of a

male child by adoption.

Now the question comes, Did these honest travellers and the reverend

missionaries report a falsehood? In reply, I would say, I have no

right to answer for them. They know themselves the grounds of their

assertion, whether it is based upon their personal knowledge of the

case, or upon the story of some tale-teller, who often takes advantage

of our ignorance and deceives us accordingly. To speak for myself, I

will confess that, although a Brahmun, a native of India, I never saw

a child thrown alive into the Ganges, nor heard of such stories until

I came to America. I have shown, by reasons drawn from the Hindoo

scripture, as well as from custom, that the sacrifice of an infant is

as monstrous in the sight of a woman in India as in America. I will

allege further, that the maternal affection is everywhere the same,

implanted in the human breast by the Creator. I thought perhaps some

traveller might have seen the deed done in certain wild portions of

India, away from the civilized and learned communities. In fact,

several of my friends here said, perhaps I do not know this. I was in

Bengal; it might have taken place among the ignorant people in the

wild regions. To my great surprise I met the following in a large

pictorial work on India, published in Boston. “Here (from the Saugor

island) thousands of mothers have thrown their children into the

Ganges to be devoured by alligators; not because they were destitute

of maternal affection, but because a mother’s love was overpowered

by her fears of the wrath of some offended deity.” Those who have

ever visited Calcutta, know that the Saugor island is at the mouth of

the Ganges, and only a few hundred miles from the city, the seat of

wealth, learning, and refinement. To present this matter in its true

light, I will describe this island and the sanctity attached to it.

It is less settled by men than by wild beasts. It has a population of

tigers, monkeys, and wolves. Very few children of Adam dare to dwell

among these disagreeable inmates of the isle. There is a light-house,

however, built by the British. The men who take care of the light,

and a few solitary monks who live there, are considered the destined

prey of the tigers, who are ready, whenever an opportunity occurs, to

make their meal of them, or, to use a Hindoo expression, “if not a

breakfast, a dinner, or a supper.” This place being near the confluence

of the river Ganges with the sea, is regarded as sacred by the Hindoos,

who resort there in the month of January to bathe, and spend three days

in tents pitched on the sandy banks of the river. Its sanctity draws

immense crowds only once a year, when hardly any mother carries her

child with her, for the place, as well as the river, is very dreadful.

The efficacy consists in the bathing in this place, not in throwing

children into the river. Those who go there go for the purpose of

purifying themselves with the sacred water, and not to commit so cruel

a murder as throwing children into the river.

So much for the Saugor island. I have sometimes looked at this matter

in a different way; that a traveller had seen perhaps an insane woman

throw her child into the water, which he interpreted as the institution

of the “heathen.” But it seems to me an unjust inference, to name the

fruit of insanity as the custom of a people, to stigmatize a whole

people for the folly of one, or a few even. I read in a Boston paper,

that the average number of suicides in the United States is nine per

week. Will it be proper for me to report in India that suicide is the

custom of the American people? No, I cannot tell such a story. When I

am asked about it, I will ascribe it to insanity or drunkenness. Once

more, I will say, then, as a Brahmun I never knew nor heard of the

story of children thrown by their mothers into the Ganges. If a Hindoo

mother hears this story she will press her babe close to her heart and

say, “Sweet treasure, I have drained the ocean for you. My tender kiss

is more genial to you than the sharp lips of the alligator. My loving

lap is a better place for you than the unconscious bed of the Ganges!”

A SKETCH

OF

MY LIFE AND EXPERIENCE.

DEDICATION.

THOMAS GAFFIELD, ESQUIRE.

That you may know the personal and religious experiences of one in whom

you have taken so much interest, and as a token of gratitude for all

you have done for me during my stay in this country, this imperfect

sketch is respectfully dedicated to you by

Your friend and brother,

JOGUTH CHUNDER GANGOOLY,

Of Calcutta, India.

PREFACE.

To speak of one’s self is not an easy matter. There are two things to

be avoided,--vanity, which would cause one to put on what he never

possessed, to say what he never was, and thereby to exaggerate the

whole matter; second, cowardly humiliation, which would lead him to

hide what he really has, and not to say what he has a right to say,

lest the world should call him an egotist. It is better to take the

middle ground, and proceed with prayer and watchfulness, keeping in

mind “Thou God seest me.”

Since my arrival in this country, my friends have expressed a great

desire to know my personal history,--how I was educated, what led me to

change my former religious views, etc. This brief sketch, which I leave

to my friends as a “parting gift,” will answer all these inquiries in

a measure. This has been written in great haste. I have not had time

to revise this sketch. Whenever the reader finds a point not clearly

explained, he will please remember the circumstances under which this

has been written. Only a few weeks before my departure for home I

commenced writing it; and at the same time I had to attend to all other

duties, and to make preparation for the voyage.

J. C. G.

SKETCH OF MY LIFE.

CHAPTER I.

MY CHILDHOOD AND EDUCATION.--MY MOTHER.

I was born of a Brahmun family, in a place called Balie. It is nearly

seven miles from Calcutta, the metropolis of British India, and is

beautifully situated on the river Ganges, the sacred river of the

Hindoos. Balie, for its numerous population, especially the Brahmun,

and its learning, is universally regarded as one of the large and

renowned places of Bengal. It has several districts, in which the

people are settled according to their castes; thus, in our part--the

Southern District--the Brahmuns live in one district. The physicians,

the astrologers, the barbers, the farmers, the goldsmiths, the

blacksmiths, the washermen, the dairymen, the fish-men, the shoemakers,

the hog-keepers, etc. have distinct quarters of their own. When you

come to a Brahmun, he can introduce you to twenty, more or less, of his

fellow Brahmun neighbors; and such is the case with almost all other

castes. The Brahmun population of my birthplace numbers more than two

thousand. There are several temples in this place; the chief of which

is one belonging to the god Shibā. There is a large market, perhaps

the largest, where people from the neighboring towns and villages

daily buy and sell their merchandise. There are two rum distilleries,

owned by two French gentlemen, a large sugar factory, established

by an Englishman, I presume; besides several castor-oil, gunny-bag,

brick, and rope manufactories. A canal, passing through it, has made

its north district a separate town, called Ootterparah, or north

village; the other, however, is connected with the main village by two

iron suspension bridges, one built by the East India Railway Company,

and the other by the Government. The Government bridge is long, and

handsomely constructed. As you sail up the Ganges from Calcutta, you

see it distinctly on your left, hanging in the air.

There are three or four English schools, and one of them, standing on

the Ootterparah side of the canal, belongs to the Government, to which

the high castes send their sons for an English education. To come to

Balie from Calcutta, the shortest way would be by railroad, which makes

its _first_ station here. There are also hundreds of small sailing

Dingees, which carry passengers to and from Calcutta several times a

day.

My father was a new settler in Balie; his native place is Vimpoor, of

which I have no knowledge. While a young boy he was left an orphan,

and with the care of a brother younger than himself. The only near

relation he had was his aunt, the wife of a celebrated priest in

Balie, who kindly invited the two orphan brothers to live with her.

I cannot help speaking, if but a word, in this connection, of his

uncle, as he seems to have been a very good and righteous man. The

simplicity of his character, his devotion to good causes, his love for

his fellow-creatures, were purely Christian. Among all his noble acts

of charity, the most prominent was his taking care of the orphans,

houseless, friendless, and helpless ones. He himself did not, as

we hear, have a large family of his own,--not numbering more than

eight members; still every day the floor of his dining-room had been

overspread with twenty plates or more. His guests were not from his

own caste exclusively; any child of God coming to his door for food or

drink, would meet a loving welcome. Indeed, to love God through love

toward man, was his darling motto. He manifested his love towards the

low castes as much as his office and his religion allowed him. His door

was open to all,--his house was the home for those who had “no place

where to lay their heads.” Like other priests, he used to bathe in the

Ganges early in the morning throughout the year, but excelled them in

his prayer and worship to the idols, which occupied daily nearly four

hours on the stretch. By two in the afternoon he would come into the

inner department of the house, and speak words of love to all around,

inquiring of one after his health, congratulating another on his

success, lamenting with a third his sorrows, etc. Entering into the

kitchen, the first question to his wife would be, “Has every one got

something to eat?” And receiving a satisfactory answer, he would put

his hand on her head, with the benediction, “Yes! God has answered my

prayer then!”

As this good old man had no time to inspect, nor inclination to

interfere with, the private proceedings of his guests, there arose a

universal outbreak of looseness and corruption of manners to which my

uncle fell a victim. But fortunately, my father, conscious of his own

responsibility as a moral agent, and desirous of becoming independent,

escaped the general contagion which was then making dreadful havoc

among his friends. But he could not save his younger brother, who chose

his own course, and ran headlong to destruction. Applying himself

diligently to the pursuit of theology, my father soon was able to take

care of the temple services, and to help his uncle in the discharge

of his priestly functions. By and by, serving as an assistant to a

Brahmun,--the priest over a wealthy family in Calcutta,--he stood on

a firm footing, married a wife, and determined to build a house and

remove his family into it. There was a piece of land close by his

aunt’s, which he bought with a small sum for the following reason.

There were some cocoa-nut, mango, and other wild trees on that lot

which were, as they believed, the homes of demons, so hardly anybody

dared to go to gather fruits thereon. It happened that my father, being

a young man of courage and good common sense, fearlessly used to go

there after the fruits which otherwise would have been left on the

ground untouched by human hands. The owner of the lot, finding that my

father enjoyed all the fruits of his trees which he had given up for

fear of demons, thought it prudent to sell it to him for a reasonable

sum. My father availed himself of the opportunity, and secured the lot

with all its trees, and speedily built a house on it. He often used

to say, he had driven all the demons from his place with “prayer and

fasting” unto the god Rama. It would have been difficult for him to

have moved to his new house, had it not been that my mother’s courage

was strong as his. For this new place had so bad a reputation that her

female neighbors did not dare to call on her in the evening, for fear

of the demons. She believed in their existence, but feared them not,

saying, that if we behave well and do not offend them, no demon would

trouble us in the least. I used to hear from her the stories of the

demons coming invisibly near the house in the shades of midnight, and

filling the place with the fragrance of some exquisite flowers. Such

fragrant flowers she knew did not grow in the neighborhood. Four or

five years after my father had removed to his new house a misfortune

happened to the family. He was on a visit to a friend in a neighboring

town, and my mother was left in care of a female servant. It was dark

midnight when “the object on the lap could not be recognized;” she was

sleeping in a room with her infant Joguth,--myself,--and the favorite

domestic was in her own bed close by. Some burglars, taking advantage

of my father’s absence, broke through the house, and robbed it almost

of its last penny. With a view of taking off the ornaments from the

ankles of the sleeping women, one of the burglars touched the feet

of my mother and thereby awoke her. She thought perhaps the servant

had in her sleep touched her feet with hers, and spoke to her to the

following effect: “Your limbs are pretty long, I see, On-nō!” “What

made you think so, madam?” “Why, from there you could reach my ankle.”

“_Your_ ankles? did I touch them with my feet? I am sure I shall

die pretty soon. That’s the reason why I do not wish to lie down close

to the Brahmuns, lest I should kick them while sleeping. Sleeping and

dining are just the same, you know,” etc. She rises from her bed, puts

her hand reverently to my mother’s feet, salutes her, and stretches

herself on the bed again. It can only be imagined with what death-like

silence the sons of sin heard the conversation, and, waiting a little

while, took off the ornaments from my mother’s body by force, and in a

few minutes went on their way with a rich spoil. The cries of the women

and the child gathered a crowd from the neighborhood. Some Brahmuns

examined the house and found it rifled; boxes and chests were empty

of their contents, as if they were just brought from the carpenter’s.

In fact, such was the entire loss of property, that my mother did not

have a second suit of clothing left, and the family had to eat their

dinner the next day on banana-leaves, on account of the plates, cups,

etc., being all taken away. With a manly resignation my father bore his

misfortune; and to add more to his discouragement, the next year his

house was broken into and robbed by the same burglars a second time.

The chief of these was a man belonging to a respectable family, now

living, I presume, who with his son has thrown several families into

poverty by robbing them in the midnight gloom! My uncle, being invited

to his house, a few years afterwards, recognized the very tumbler he

used to drink from at his own house. As the Brahmuns deem it a great

sin to swear by the Ganges, no matter under what circumstances, my

father did not raise any complaint against the man. He would rather go

poor and suffer loss than regain his property, if possible, by swearing

before a magistrate. His family grew larger, and what he subsequently

earned was consumed for their support; so he never could gain a

comfortable position again, in regard to pecuniary prospects.

Nine children were born unto him, of whom five are living. Of the

living, the first is my brother, the second and the third are sisters,

the fourth is the writer, and the fifth is my youngest sister. Our

names, although not in essence, are, in significance, pretty. My oldest

brother is named after the god “Krishto and the moon;” the oldest

sister is “Drop of Honey;” the second is “Young Beauty;” the meaning of

my name is “The Moon of the World;” and our youngest brother, who died

at seven, was “The Summer Moon.”

There being no system of female education in Bengal, my father applied

all his energies for my training, and being a religious man himself,

cared more for the right development of my heart than for my head. I

remember distinctly sitting in his lap every evening and committing the

prayers, proverbs, etc., to memory.

He had a remarkable faculty of cultivating, improving, and enriching

another’s memory. Every evening I had to learn either a part or the

whole of a prayer or moral precept, in the Sanscrith poetry, and

to recite to him _all_ the old ones beside. Thus, while other

Brahmun boys of my own age or older knew nothing about proverbs and

parables, my memory was amply supplied with the same. With such care he

had taught me these things, that what I learned while a boy, perhaps

nine or ten years old, I can repeat to-day, word by word, most of it

being prayers to nearly twelve deities, such as the Sun, the River

Ganges, Doorga, Shibă, Rama, Krishto, etc., and “an hundred and eight

proverbs,” besides select pieces from old Sanscrith poems, etc.

He did not aim at crowding my youthful mind with dry, unintelligible

precepts, but bathed it with their sweet juice. Indeed, ere I was

made Thejo, or Second Born, I could almost draw pleasure from those

Sanscrith proverbs, and recognize their applicability to the internal

phenomena of the world. My fondness for poetry--which afterwards

grew so strong that, though a renouncer of the Hindoo gods, I took

much pains to compose several pieces of drama from the legends--was

implanted in these younger days. And, as the result of learning the

stories and legends of the gods, a deep reverence for them filled my

heart. My childhood’s devotion to the idols was exemplary. My dear

mother told me several anecdotes of my early days, about my offering

or rather reciting prayers to the deities. During the great worship

of a goddess in our neighborhood, my father was going to see the

theatrical shows late in the evening. He awoke me from my sleep, and

gladly I started with him. It was my habit to thank the gods, each by

its respective name, before going out of doors. There was an idol of

Shawlgram in our house, and as I passed through a narrow entry, I

bent my head against the wall of the room in which the image was, and

offered prayers. One by one my favorite gods all came into my mind;

of course it took a longer time than usual to ask blessings from them

all. My father walked almost to the place of worship and turned back

to speak to me, but I was not there. Fearing some accident might have

happened, or that I was taken aloft by Neeshie, he hastened toward

home,[29] and found his little boy slowly striking his head against

the wall. He felt doubly happy in learning that nothing unpleasant had

happened, and that his boy was growing religious. How little did he

know then that a Spirit more hurtful than Neeshie had already taken

possession of the tender heart of his son. It was superstition that

caused him to “bow down to wood and stone.”

Through his precious help and guidance I early learned to read

distinctly and understandingly almost all the Bengalee books containing

the lives of the gods. The legends of Ramà, Krishto, the Ganges, etc.,

were my favorite studies. To do justice to his noble discretion, I

should say that he never put any reading of a light character within my

reach. I read over and over those religious books, which after a while

grew so familiar that I could read the most of them merely by glancing

at the page. The fact, that nearly half of my time was occupied in

reading became known to the people, who would come to my house or

invite me to theirs for the purpose. On holidays, I had to edify them

by reading or reciting the sacred things.

Some elderly woman would conduct me to the inner department of a Hindoo

house to read to the young women who are inaccessible to young men,

and not being themselves taught to read or write are strangers to

intellectual pleasures. My age and ability were remarkably adapted to

the case, because though a little boy I could accomplish a great deal.

I distinctly remember the congregation of women; one fanning me, a

second holding a plate full of confectioneries, a third, an old woman,

congratulating my mother for her having had such a child, etc. My

father would occasionally let me accompany him in his official visits,

that the religious zeal of his people might be quickened in hearing the

voice of truth “revealed unto the babe.”

I was sent to a Patshala, or house of instruction, at the age of five;

but I acquired more at home than anywhere else. Mental arithmetic,

letter-writing, composition, etc. I learned from my father. Such was

his untiring zeal to load my mind with all possible useful information,

that my first acquaintance with a few English words was made through

him. His priestly mouth, after imparting instruction in the Sanscrith,

would teach me a few words in English, such as the pronouns of

different persons and numbers; the word for God, man, hand, dog, etc.,

which he had picked up in some way, from those who studied English. But

I am sorry to see now that the good man taught me two or three phrases

in English with which the vulgar people swear. He of course did not

know the evil; he thought what the Englishmen use must be delicate,

proper, and useful.

Although not educated herself, my mother could teach me a great many

things in the absence of my father. She knew the multiplication table

up to how much eighteen times nineteen would be; also parables and

proverbs, all by heart. She would comment upon and furnish hints on

reading, explain difficult passages, and use the best materials in her

conversation. She too, like my father, valued more our spiritual than

intellectual accomplishments. Respect to age, love and devotion to the

idols, honor to parents, faithfulness to conviction, strict observance

of the customs of the country, were the themes she dwelt upon. These

she would require obstinately, not willing to take off the veil and

examine the substance within. How much I had to struggle against from

her displeasure when the free tone of my thought and desires after

reformation came into collision with her conservatism and adherence

to superstitious institutions, I cannot tell. My position, in after

years, proved diametrically opposite to her wishes in a great many

respects, and she persistently labors, even up to to-day, to reconcile

them, not making in the least any surrender on her part though. She

exhorted me all the time to observe “every jot and tittle” pertaining

to Hindooism, and would apply reason, persuasion, entreaty, and finally

threats for the purpose. My oldest brother had not the chance of being

under her care, nor of hearing her advice,--being absent from her most

of the time,--and he has grown a self-willed, immoral young man. She

laments very much over him, and says, “she would take twofold care

over Joguth,” lest he too should slip away from the path of right, and

disappoint her accordingly. Always she used to say, “He who comes last

runs towards the direction in which the first has gone.” That she might

not have occasion to suffer again on my account she built some walls

around me.

I know no mother in our neighborhood who watched the steps of her sons

so vigilantly as mine did. In fact the women of the adjacent houses

often said that “they never dreamed of or prescribed such regulations

for their children, and that they did not watch their _babies_ so

closely as my mother did her adults.” When anything unpleasant, wicked,

or vicious happened in the place, she would take the opportunity to

warn me, saying, “I hope, Joguth, you would die before you would become

guilty of such things. I should feel anxious to leave you alone in this

world, in case I should die first, much as it will be a happiness to

me. Remember the saying, ‘Let go your life, but retain your honor.’”

Her favorite mottoes were the following, which she would always hold

before me. When we complained of any one, she would say, “If I am good,

the world is good unto me.” In time of temptation, “Conquer within

first, and you will conquer without.” When any one is discontented,

and cannot live in peace with his brethren, her motto is, “Peace

accommodates nine persons in one room, but discord puts them in nine

separate ones.” Speaking of quarrelsome persons, her saying was, “She

who is naturally quarrelsome would quarrel with her work-basket.” Of

those who bring discord, “Wicked man and mouse break; good man and

needle connect.” Beside these she had other sayings: “Where there is

right, there is victory.” “Walk in the way of righteousness, and you

will receive your meal even in the midnight.” “If you want to be the

greatest, be the lowest.”

I have observed before that she would watch me on every side. She did

not feel satisfied with merely prescribing regulations for me, but with

strictness would see them carried out. Sometimes she would put some

false charge upon me, in order to teach me a lesson. “Joguth, were

you quarreling with the boy?” so saying, she would paint the evil of

fighting in dark colors. I was not allowed to dress gay like other

young men of my age, nor even to part my hair: “Comb your hair simply;

look _clean_ but not _foppish_.” She would comment upon my

mode of walking, smiling, and talking, and give some sharp rebukes if

there was any fault in them.

One evening I came very near the kitchen where the women were, walking

so slow that none could hear sounds of my steps. To my utter confusion

she said, “I am afraid of you, Joguth; what kind of walking was that?

You came in, giving no warning with your steps, so slow they were! O

Joguth, gentlemen do not do so; _thieves_ do. Were you practising

how the thieves walk?” When at home I was not allowed to talk to my

aunt, or brother’s wife even. My mother had great fear of young women,

saying that man could not corrupt them unless they yield; so more than

a dozen times she begged them not to speak to her Joguth.

She does not find any pleasure in gossip and slander, and avoids the

place where such are indulged. Her counsel is, “Speak good of others,

and bring their evil before you simply for the purpose of deriving

admonition from them. We are all liable to make blunders. ‘The saints

may err,’ is the Sanscrith saying. Our talking of the imperfections

and immoralities of others is just as ridiculous as the censure of the

sieve, which cried out, ‘Brother needle, why, there is a hole in your

body.’”

In her daily occupation and habits she is worthy of our imitation. She

is the last to go to bed and the first to leave it. You awake in the

midnight and you will find her at work or whispering hymns; rise early,

and you will see she has gone to the Ganges to bathe. Inaction is an

abomination to her: she would urge all to do something innocently

profitable. She hates debt, and fears it as death itself. At the first

call she would pay her debts, even if her children should suffer for

it. She believes that he who dies a debtor will have to settle his dues

after death; and to confirm this doctrine she points out the trees that

grow one upon the other, such as a banian tree upon the trunk of a

palm; explaining, thus, that the latter did not pay his debts, so after

death he has become a tree, and his creditor grows on his head in the

form of a banian. Such is an imperfect sketch of my dear mother, under

whose care and supervision my early days were directed. Any good thing

I have in me was the gift of this noble woman; she laid it in my heart

in its rude state, and a Teacher wiser and more unerring than she has

polished it afterwards. May God judge and reward her according to the

light she has. To whom much is given of them much shall be required.

God grant that before she breathes her last breath, she may know that

in deserting the idol gods her son has not committed an unpardonable

sin!

CHAPTER II.

MY “SECOND BIRTH.”--CONSECRATION FOR THE PRIESTHOOD.--RELIGIOUS

TRAINING.--DEATH OF MY FATHER.--ENGLISH SCHOOLS.--ZEAL FOR

IDOLATRY.

The Brahmun boys are not permitted to touch idols or to perform any

religious services until they are become “Second born.” Accordingly at

the age of thirteen, I believe, I was consecrated to Brahmun life.

On a bright summer day the friends from far and near assembled together

at our house, having been previously invited to attend the ceremony. In

the course of the services the officiating priest cut three locks of my

hair in the name of the three principal Hindoo deities, Brahma, Vishnu,

and Shiba; then the barber shaved my head and put two small ear-rings

in my ears according to the religious law. After invoking the presence,

approbation, and blessing of hundreds of gods, the priest put a thread

round my neck. It is a sacred badge of the Brahmuns, made of cotton,

and not worn by the low castes. A yellow robe was thrown over me, and

a veil round my face, and I was conducted into my room. The period of

staying in this room without seeing any low-caste man is either of

three, five, or seven days, during which the Second born learns his

Shundhas--the especial forms of prayer. These are long, philosophically

constructed, and regarded _very_ sacred. The low castes dare not

hear of nor utter a word of them. My term in this secluded room was

very short,--only three days,--because my good, thoughtful father had

taught me those things beforehand, charging me not to tell them to any

low castes. I found them very useful now as I was to repeat them three

times a day.

Now begins a new scene in life in regard to religious affairs. We

had an image of Krishto at our house, and I had to worship it twice

every day, besides the idols of other families occasionally. Early in

the morning I would go after flowers for the worship. The rules for

gathering flowers are numerous, yet beautiful when understood. First,

wash your hands; do not put your dirty fingers upon the delicate, clean

person of the flowers; be very careful not to break a branch or to

pluck a bud; do not smell of any flower before you have offered it to

the gods; keep the basket with its treasures in your hand, and place

it not on the ground. Leaving the flowers at home, I would go to the

school for instruction, where again my discipline was novel. I must not

put anything into my mouth, nor sit on the same seat with boys of other

castes, etc. In the street the young as well as the grown-up low castes

would salute me, and I had to raise my little hands to bless them,

saying, “Be victorious!” or “Live forever!”

Some would bring a little water in the palm of their hands, desiring

me to touch it by the end of my first toe of the right foot, that they

might drink it. The form of words used by all the Brahmuns for this

purpose means something like this: “The sanctity of the right foot of

the Second Born is equal to the sanctity of the world and sea combined

together.” Heretofore I had no especial rules to observe in time of

eating, but now I must bathe first, then offer my prayer, worship the

idols, and afterward take luncheon. Again, keep silent while eating;

I must not leave my seat on _any_ account, unless I choose to

forfeit my meal; I must spare something on the plate for the creeping

things, etc.

I would speak of my daily idol worship. After washing myself, either

in the river Ganges or in some tank (in the latter case the Hindoos

sprinkle a few drops of the sacred water on the head), I would go into

the room where the image was kept on a small wooden throne, elegantly

furnished with cushions, pillows, curtains, etc. On the floor there was

a carpet-seat for me, some copper and brazen vessels, a hand-bell, a

large plate, with a good display of flowers, perfumatory powder, and

some edibles. Bringing down the idol from its throne, I would put it

into a vessel and pour water on its head by the right hand and ring the

bell by the other, uttering some words at the same time. Wiping it with

small towels, I would put it on a seat and scatter flowers, powder,

etc., on its head with much ceremony, offering prayer and praise to

it, ask its glance at the edibles, etc., and finally prostrate myself

on the ground in humiliation, and partake of the “food offered to the

idol.” By and by, when the dinner had been cooked and set in order, I

would carry the idol into the dining-room and offer the food to it the

second time.

While I was thus worshipping the idol, and forming plans for a higher

grade of devotion, my father was removed from this to the world above.

I was then fourteen years old, I think. He suffered a fortnight from a

fever, which finally brought an end to his existence. He retained his

consciousness, yea, even his literary priestly sensibilities, unto the

very last. It is customary in our country to read, from Hindoo sacred

books, to the sick. A priest was called upon to do this service to my

father. When he had finished his reading, my father remarked: “Friend,

to sell needles to a blacksmith is not an easy matter; what you read

to me has been _particularly_ meant for a case different from

mine.” I was not at home when he died, having gone to Calcutta to a

Brahmun woman who had taken much interest in my father. While I was

returning home in the afternoon a neighbor inquired of me “if I knew

how my father was,” and receiving a negative answer said, “Go home and

you will see.” Drawing myself nearer home the cries from my friends

told me my dear father was dead. His body was then on the funeral pile

on the bank of the Ganges, but I could not see it. They would not let

me go there. He did not leave any fortune for us. While breathing his

last, he said to my mother that the richest thing he left for her was

Ish-ur, or God; and, next to him, the “three diamonds,” his three sons.

“These three,” he said, “duly and rightly used, will meet all your

wants.” My uncle, the younger brother of my father, stretched forth his

kind hands over us. Not being a religious man himself, and inclined to

follow the fashion of the community, he desired me to study English

part of the time, and requested a fine Hindoo young man, a student

of the “Hindoo College,” to give me instruction. Accordingly I began

to study what is called “the language of the Jobuns,” and the first

English book I had was Murray’s Spelling-Book. Some four or five boys

came in, and we formed a class. Our teacher had only half an hour to

give to us, and after he had gone to his own school we used to talk

foolishly, play tricks, tear each others’ books, and thereby used to

enjoy _good_ but frequently _bad_ times. Finding me little

promising, our teacher advised my uncle to send me to a good English

school, which he accordingly did. It was a government school, at the

distance of a mile and a half from our house. I was admitted into the

third class, and our studies were The First Reader, Elements of the

English Grammar, and Geography. There being no especial teacher over

our class, the second teacher had the charge of the two, consequently

he held to the one, and took little care of the other. Not being able

to hear each boy read and recite, he would ask every second or fourth

boy to read a paragraph. We could know at once if anything would fall

to our lot, and could prepare that particularly. In the course of four

months a Bengalee gentleman, fresh from college, became appointed as

the third teacher, and we followed him to his forms. He was a very

irritable man, and would use his whip quite smartly and frequently too.

Among ten or twelve unfortunate boys who were the favored recipients

of his whip and blows I was one. Receiving some stripes for a couple

of days, I determined to get rid of them, because I had never met with

these disagreeable things before. The trouble was, I did not know how

to prepare my lesson; I wanted some help, but could not get it. He,

seeing me tolerably good in other studies, found out that I was not

“totally depraved.” So one day he asked me when I studied my lesson

at home. I told him I did not understand what study at home was; for

I open my books at school and nowhere else, as my friends do not know

English to guide me. He kindly suggested to me what to do. I followed

the advice, and in a week became one of the leading boys in the class.

One thing is worth observing, as far as modesty will permit, that

whoever was acquainted with me, admired my faculty of retaining things

in the memory. Those who know me can testify well to this point, but

for my part I can simply say this, that if I had anything in me which

drew the attention of a large circle, it was my memory. To-day I can

repeat word by word the chief part of the books which I had read ten

years ago. Whatever prizes I acquired in the schools were rather due to

my memory than anything else. When I had made some progress in English

studies, and my uncle refused to supply me with all the books I needed,

to the surprise of the school, I retained my honorable position in

the class, although I did not have more than four or five books out of

eight or nine,--the studies for the time. At this time my uncle, who

was a widower, married a young girl whose mother came to live with her.

She is a remarkable woman. Not having a good time with her husband,

as he had several wives at the same time, she fled from home with her

daughter of seven or eight years old, and some money, came to our place

and married her infant child to my uncle without the knowledge of her

nearest relatives, who made violent struggles for her afterward; but

it was too late. After staying a year or more at our house, the woman

managed to poison my uncle’s mind and destroy the peace of the family

forever. Quarrels, misunderstandings, rash and unkind remarks, often

marred the domestic happiness. In order to vex my mother, she would,

before her presence, speak slander of others; ridicule the words of

the Brahmuns, teach villainous stories to the children, sing audibly

nonsensical, comic pieces, and make rude remarks, etc. My mother used

to send me away with my books to some neighbor’s house, and would keep

herself in her own room. By day and night my mother’s prayer became at

this period, “Gods, remove me and my children to a wilderness, among

the wild beasts and the fowls who do not know slander, neither do what

they ought not.” For fear of the odium which would naturally fall

upon him, my uncle could not withdraw his help at once, but gradually

effected the object under various pretences. We could hear distinctly

in the evening the mother-in-law of my uncle entreat him to stop the

expense of my studies. In justice to him I should say, that a great

many times he rebuked her, saying, “His father has committed Joguth to

my care; it wouldn’t look well to neglect him. If he grows a man, he

will doubtless be a help to me.” But though “he feared not God, nor

cared for man,” her importunity wrought a revolution in his feelings.

The regulation of the school required the pupils to bring their

school-fee on the first day of the month in advance, and in default

thereof they would be sent home. My uncle would not give the money in

season; he would make excuses, and I had to stay at home. Thus in the

early part of every month I was compelled to be absent, and of course

lose my high place in the class. My teacher once opened the register

to show Mr. R. Hand, the head teacher, how my rank miserably suffered

for my absence during the time of delayed payment for the schooling.

Finally my uncle said he was in debt, and it cost him a great deal to

support us, so he could not pay the expenses of my studies any longer.

It was a dreadful calamity to me, which will be ever remembered.

The very boys who were juniors to me, and whom I used to help in

various ways, made astonishing progress in a few years, while I

remained almost where I was. The idea of taking instruction privately

from one who knew more than I did, did not satisfy me, for I had tasted

the pleasures of the school, deriving much from maps, globes, library,

and competition too.

There were free schools in Calcutta, founded by the missionaries, but

the expenses of attending them from Balie would be treble what it cost

me in the Ooterparah, Government School. For a year I remained at home,

making little progress in the English studies, and performing the

priestly functions as well as I could. Afterwards I was admitted to

several schools, but in none could I prosecute my course for more than

five or six months. Although busy in my scholastic duties, I did not

give up the habit of observing the fasts, worship, etc., of my country.

Yea, these troubles and misfortunes fixed my eyes steadfastly upon

the idols, and happily brought me to the arms of the “King eternal,

immortal, the only-wise God,”--the loving Father of the universe!

With a double zeal and devotion I pursued the course laid out by my

father; the love for the gods grew stronger, and their lives, as

displayed in our sacred books, seemed sweeter. Desiring to live and

move within a broad sphere of piety,--to observe the rituals and fasts

with the enthusiasm of grown-up persons, I made a new routine for the

exercises. The daily “morning bath” in the sacred river Ganges is

held by the Hindoos as a great religious act, productive of spiritual

excellence. I took a vow to do this regularly. At this period a

peculiar feeling, which is almost foreign to most of the Hindoos,

seemed to dawn its splendor upon me; it was an earnest desire to see

my gods respected, feared, and worshipped by all, and to bring all men

under their allegiance. This very desire, when reawakened by Christ,

and I forsook the idols, gave a sincere response to that soul-stirring

sentiment--

“Be thou, O God, exalted high;

And as thy glory fills the sky,

So let it be on earth displayed,

Till thou art here, as there obeyed.”

I summoned all my energies to serve the gods and goddesses according

to the rules laid down in the Hindoo Scriptures. In the morning I

would go after the choice flowers, that I might satisfy the idols with

just what they are fond of; for some Hindoo gods are fond of a certain

kind of flower or leaf which the others do not care for. It pained me

exceedingly to see the young men, my neighbors, go without prayer,

worship, or fast. I persuaded them to follow my standard,--assured

them if they would only come to the gods, their imperfections, wants,

sorrows, would be removed by the celestial grace. My exhortation

found immediate response from them. Among them two were shamefully

lazy,--could not prepare their lessons at all,--were the worst boys

of every school they went to. These finding me in a better and more

honorable position, begged me to show to them the source whence flows

“all good and perfect gifts.” As I had myself strong faith in the

benevolent disposition of the gods I urged my friends to come to them

for help. Accordingly a party of young devotees was formed under my

guidance, of whom all were Brahmuns. Being large in number, and having

among us daring elements, we could gather the best flowers from distant

parts of our village for the worship. While other Brahmuns had hardly

left their beds we were on the tops of large trees, and there filled

our baskets with varieties of flowers. We would then move towards the

Ganges, where, performing our ablutions according to the prescribed

rules, we visited the principal temple to worship the image of Shiba.

As my friends did not know how to worship it, and what form of prayer

to use in the different parts of the service, I had to do the business

of the priest, uttering audibly the sacred words learned of my father,

and making them recite after me. Before leaving the temple I would

decorate the altar and the image with the flowers, using all my skill

and earnestness. So regular were our visits to the temple, so many

flowers were carried there, that other Brahmuns coming in earlier would

say, “Joguth has not been here yet, we see.” The Hindoos fast a great

many days during the year, so I wished to do; but my mother interposed,

as it would have destroyed my health to abstain from food and drink

entirely for twenty-four hours. I used to observe one fast only,--in

the month of February, I believe. It is called Shiba Rattree, or the

Night of Shiba. The first part of the day was less trying, but in the

afternoon and night the face would turn pale, the eyes sink, the body

become weak, etc. Still, hoping to receive a blessed seat in the heaven

of Shiba, I would bear all these, and go through abstinence with a

cheerful heart. Once, while quite a number of us fasted, the forenoon

passed along nicely with fun, plays, and walks. A friend older than I

left us, and after an hour returned again. I noticed his face looked

easy, entirely different from that of an hour ago, and suspected he

had, perhaps, taken some food, and asked him about it. Before he

had time to say yea or nay, I saw something yellow on his lip which

proved to be the remainder of a fruit he had eaten. At this one felt

indignant, a second laughed out, a third said he would not fast longer.

I was left with one more to satisfy Shiba, by passing the whole day

and night without food or drink. My belief in the gods was so strong,

my faith in their protecting power was so unwavering, that I thought

I could hold close communion with them, see their smiles beaming

forth out of the eyes and mouth of the images. To Shiba I prayed for

learning; to Luckhy for wealth; to Doorga for relief from dangers; to

Krishto for heaven,--and I was pretty sure of getting them. Little did

I dream then that these deities are mere idols, whom I worshipped,

loved, and feared, and for whose grace I fasted so hopefully. During

the time of evening worship, when hundreds of lights were burned, the

band played, the incense filled the place with sweet perfume, and joy

shed its charms over all, I would stand reverently before the image,

look earnestly at its face, repeat silent prayers, and thereby feel

myself happy. At the close, I would kneel down, or sometimes prostrate

myself on the ground with humiliation.

The Brahmuns desired my mother to commit me to their charge, which

she did not, for various reasons. One of them, who had a large parish,

would send a substitute round quite often to the houses of his people

to worship the idols for them. I had to go, too, to a town across the

river Ganges to attend to the images. So strong was my affection for

the idols, so earnest was I to see all people worship unceasingly,

that while playing cards with my friends one day, I proposed an

extra worship of the goddess. The little band approved it; the cost

was counted and found too large for our private pocket to afford. I

encouraged them with a promise to construct the image with my own hand.

They considered the possibility of the enterprise, and we at once set

out to work. Accordingly, bamboo was brought, a piece of board, nails,

straw, string, etc., were secured. Fearing our parents would interfere

with this, we carried the materials to the top of a house, which in our

country is flat. One day a respectable Brahmun, looking at the parapet,

saw the hands of the image and came upstairs to see what we had done.

The neighbors flocked in to see, admire, and help at our work, and

a universal enthusiasm prevailed. A great many doubted my ability

to finish the idol, but I think I did it nicely. My oldest brother

painted it, and we received the praise of the people. To commemorate

this event we worshipped the idol annually, defraying the expenses by

subscription. It makes me smile to think that, when my friends invited

me to take the lead, as usual, in things in subsequent years, I pointed

out to them the error of idol worship. Of course they did not feel like

myself, so they came to a conclusion that I had grown crazy, and would

certainly become Christian very soon!

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.