Now begins an important stage in my life. The dawn of a bright future

breaks upon me with a serenity never before dreamed of. My Heavenly

Father, not willing that his child should go away from him and remain

ignorant of his gracious majesty, turned my course slowly toward his

infinite goodness. He could no longer suffer his child to prostrate

himself before “wood and stone,” and He sent His “Beloved Son” to

teach him and bring him to his “Father’s Home.” While much occupied in

observing the religious ordinances of my people, while summoning all my

energies for the cause of the idols, and offering all the treasures of

my heart and head at their feet, I heard of the celebrated Christian

Missionary, Rev. Dr. Duff of Calcutta, and his colleagues, making

converts of the Hindoo boys. My animosity towards Christianity rose

with all its fury, and I wished to see it die out, that it might not

rob the peace and prosperity of the Hindoo families, by stealing away

the young boys and leading them headlong into vice, immorality, and

misery. For the Hindoo’s impression of Christianity is this: That in

order to become a Christian it is essentially necessary that a young

man should treat his parents unkindly, eat animal food, such as beef,

pork, ham, etc., which the Hindoos detest very much, drink wine, not

wash his mouth after the meal, as the animals do, and forsake all

things which bear the name of Hindoo, no matter how beautiful they

are. Now, if these are the essential features of Christianity, why

should I have wondered that the Hindoos fear it? But thanks be to God

that _these are not_ parts of the religion of Christ; these have

little or nothing to do with it. Again, the Hindoo hatred towards

Christianity arises from another important cause; viz., that the lives

of most of its nominal advocates contradict its spirit. No nation is

so furious, proud, bloodthirsty as a Christian one. No country, I

presume, is flooded so often with human blood, as that which is studded

with “meeting-houses,” which publish the Gospel of Peace by myriads,

annually, of different editions, versions, and illustrations. The

gentlemen, the senators of Christian countries, impelled by animal

passions, fight duels, and thereby abuse the precious gift of God, the

life. These are the men who declare themselves disciples of Christ, who

own pews in the church, whose wives and daughters are Sunday-school

teachers. “But whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to

him the other also,” is a precept of their Teacher. My dear mother

would point me out the ambitious deeds of the English people, saying,

“There, Joguth, do not you speak of the religion of Shahebs to me;

put it on the shelf yonder; they have no religion at all! What! what

did you say, ‘And if any man will sue thee at the law, and take away

thy coat, let him have thy cloak also!’ Very beautiful words, indeed!

O Joguth, what do the Shahebs do? Do they care a fig for them? No!

Their religion is ‘to rob those who have nothing to do with them.’ Poor

Runjit Serigh, the Queen of Nagpoor! I pity them; they fell victims to

the ambition of your Christian Shahebs. How I should like to see their

Queen, and tell her, ‘Shame to your subjects! They fight, they quarrel,

they rob our country. You do not know what they do out of your sight.

When they go abroad they forget the instruction of home,’” etc.

Having had a fear, and hatred, too, towards Christianity, I determined

to investigate its true peculiarities,--which I felt quite sure must be

childish and fallacious,--that I might be qualified to argue with the

Christians and triumphantly expose their errors. Some Christian books

were necessary, but how should I get them? I was too timid to go to

the missionaries; first, I could not speak English; and, secondly, I

feared them to be the “boy thieves,” as the Hindoos designate them. On

a holiday I saw low castes carrying home a quantity of “_Tracts_”

given to them by the servants of Christ. I managed to secure a copy

which contained that portion of Christ’s teaching known by the name

of the “Sermon on the Mount.” Need I tell to a Christian reader the

sublime beauty of these words of _Life_? I should say, however,

that I was quite disappointed in not finding fallacious, weak, foolish

doctrines in it as I anticipated. Its pages opened heaven before me,

and I could see distinctly its joys, its angels, and its blessedness.

I could see also the _earth_, not like one around us, in which

the life and its attendant functions have been manufactured by our own

hands, but one fresh from the hand of the Most High,--a pure, simple,

loving world! Over and over I read the tract, and wished to get some

more. A few tracts which I subsequently received contained a great deal

of the teaching of men, and less of His who had studied his theology

in the bosom of the Father, and who said, “My words are not my own;

what I have heard of my Father, that speak I to you.”

Reading the first tract, containing the “Sermon on the Mount,”

carefully, I became so familiar with Christ’s voice, that I could

recognize him from out the crowd. “Sheep know the voice of their

shepherd,” he says. I was told that a book called “Holy Bible” contains

the life of Jesus in full, and I longed to have a copy of it. As

there was no Bible in the house, I had some difficulty in procuring

a copy for some time. Providentially a Brahmun boy had brought some

pamphlets and a book to me, and begged me to make some kites for him

with their leaves. To my unspeakable joy the book proved to be the

long-sought one,--the life of Christ, by four evangelists,--the New

Testament! I made some kites with my own writing-paper, and the lad

gave me his blue book in turn. Now begins a period of investigation,

study, contemplation, of the teaching of Christ. Among others, his kind

words, inviting the poor, the suffering, the despised, to come unto

him,--“Come unto me all ye that labor, and are heavy laden, and I will

give you rest,”--struck me very much. I was the worshipper of several

male and female deities, and some of them were my beloved ones; but

none called me in such a loving, affectionate way. His saying, “Take

my yoke upon you, and learn of me, for I am meek and lowly of heart,

and ye shall find rest unto your souls; for my yoke is easy, and my

burden is light,” furnished me with ample materials for meditation. Who

is this, I asked, that promises us “_rest_,” without demanding

any compensation, as the Hindoo gods do? Carefully I followed Christ

in all his walks, listened to him while he was on the mountain, saw

him cure sickness and cast out devils, heard him bid the rough sea “be

still,” watched him at his table in the upper chamber, witnessed his

arrest, trial, and crucifixion, and his victory over death. With a

view of comparing Christianity with the modern Hindooism I took some

leading points of each. First, the Creator of the universe, who is he?

what relation is there between him and his creatures? where can he be

found, and how worshipped? etc. The belief of the Hindoos in regard to

these subjects differs in accordance with their caste, culture, and

opportunities. The learned Brahmuns derive their belief from the Sacred

Vedas; others from tradition; and the low castes have no knowledge of

them, perhaps, or the little they have is ridiculous. Christ tells us

our Creator is a Great Being,--God,--and that he is One. I received the

doctrine, as it confirmed beautifully my impression of a Creator. I had

this consciousness from my early years, but did not know who that Being

was, for Bromho is said to be the Maker of all, but he too rises from

the Bishto. Leaving aside the speculative theory of my country, I found

relief in the simple yet truthful words of Christ.

The Hindoos bear different relations to their gods. This seemed to me

absurd. For instance, Shiba is called “_Father_,” his wife Doorga,

mother, his two daughters are our mother too, who, according to the

common rules, ought to be our sisters. Krishto is addressed by the

term _Father_ also. Now the great Teacher says we have only one

Father in heaven, even God. When I learned of Christ that my Creator is

_one_ great Being, and though his majesty is infinite, his wisdom

unfathomable, his power unbounded, his position high, he is our Father

still, my joy knew no bounds. I became aware that my recognition of a

creator in the Bromho, Bishto, etc., was just as bewildering as to seek

an object in the gloomy chambers of Mammoth Cave. But Christ stood by

my side as a blazing light, and pointed out the shortest, easiest way

to my God, saying, “I am the light” and “I am the way.” I used to think

we could come to God through different routes, but now felt convinced

of the great advantage of entering in by the strait gate, treading the

steps of Christ, and following the guidance of the celestial Guide.

When I want to visit the city of New York, the prudent course will be

to take the express train at the Worcester Depot, and not step into the

Boston, Concord, and Montreal cars which will surely take me far, far

away from my destination; it will cost more money and longer time into

the bargain![30]

Where our Creator is to be found and how worshipped became the

subject of my inquiry. Hindoo gods have their respective heavens,

some particular places for their abodes, which they do not wish to be

away from. Thus Krishto reigns in his Goluck, Shiba in Koylas, etc.

The latter is said to have wept on leaving Kashie for a season at the

solicitation of Debodass, a worshipper.

But turning to Christ, I heard him say, our Father is

everywhere,--fills immensity with his presence; that there is no place

so high, so happy as to monopolize his presence, to confine him within

its enclosure; there is no place, on the other hand, so low that does

not contain him. The Mighty Omnipresent sits on high, the great King

of all, controlling the affairs of the universe with his powerful, yet

loving sway,--receiving homage from the Seraphim and Cherubim, and the

“just made perfect;” yet, at the same time, noticing the fall of the

sparrows.

In regard to worship, I was taught to worship the images of the gods,

to offer food and clothing to them, and occasionally to visit the

sacred cities, such as Orissa,[31] or Benares, etc. But Christ taught

me otherwise. He says, “neither this mountain, nor Jerusalem,” is to

be the favored place for worshipping God; “Worship him in the Spirit,

for he is a Spirit.” This seemed to me a beautiful idea, for it enables

high as well as low to worship the Creator,--to hold communion with

him,--to lay before him all their joys, sorrows, and disappointments,

instead of going after him in Jerusalem or Benares. Again, what a great

consolation it is to know that a pure and contrite heart, with all

its poverty and meekness, is more acceptable to God than the richest

offering, than temples of gold! How many thousands of the Hindoos

live and die in despair of that degree of spiritual perfection, that

peculiar blessing of the gods, which a few hundred dollars would have

secured for them! The poor man, notwithstanding all his righteousness,

the purity of his heart, and his love for holy things, is not entitled

to share the joys of heaven with the rich wicked man, who has spent

enormous sums of money in visiting temples, in pilgrimages, or in

worshipping costly images. This is the absurd belief I had in regard

to the worship of the gods, and I thanked God heartily when I got rid

of it. Secondly, I wished to know about _man_: my relation and

duties towards other men, etc. The theory that man is our brother,

being the child of a common Father, has been falsified by the system

of the _castes_, and by the power and sanctity of the priesthood.

A low-caste man is no more a brother to a Brahmun than are the inferior

animals. If a shoemaker accidentally should touch the plate of a

Brahmun, he would not use its contents; it is as if a dog should touch

it. I know that in this world we must have, of necessity, differences

in position, culture, accomplishments, etc., that one demands respect

of another; but do we stand high or low agreeably to our caste, wealth,

intelligence, before Him who is “no respecter of persons”? When a

Brahmun, I felt it was my duty--making a right use of my position

and its attendant prerogatives--to look at the low castes with

indifference. I did not touch them if I could possibly help it. I put

my foot on their prostrate heads, I gave the dust of my foot to them to

eat, and I promised them earthly and heavenly blessings. But the moment

I learned from the lips of Jesus what my relation is to my fellow-man,

and what duty I owe towards him, I clearly saw the low castes are just

as high as myself. Hearing that “God maketh his sun to rise on the good

and evil,” that the harlots, the despised, would enter into blessedness

before the proud Pharisee, I cheerfully abdicated the honors, the

prerogatives of my high position as a Brahmun, and wished to jump down

upon the level where the despised low castes stood. Indeed, who but God

knows the magnitude of the delight I enjoyed in standing by the side

of the low castes! While in the street I would walk close to them, and

thereby get an opportunity to touch them. Of course the grown-up low

castes would not come in close contact with me, fearing it would be

a dangerous thing for them. So I used to hide my sacred or priestly

badge under my clothes, which, if kept in its proper place would have

testified of my caste, and to speak kind words to the despised sons of

humanity.

After reading the life of Christ carefully, I came to the following

conclusions:--That our Creator is one God, who is not only the highest,

greatest, and most powerful of all, but at the same time a Father,--a

loving Father, with a heart more tender than that of any earthly

friends. Indeed, I love to dwell upon this latter conception of God

always. In hours of joy or in hours of sorrow I seem to forget that he

is a Lord, and I lean against his bosom with filial confidence. I had

to _fear_ the gods of my fathers, but when I sat at the feet of

the Divine Wisdom which presented to me one God, a Father, I wished to

_love_ him.

Secondly, that man is my brother, no matter whatever be his caste,

creed, color, or country, because the same Father has given us life; we

are alike the recipients of his blessing, and have equal claims upon

his unbounded love. I learned that the best and truest way to love God

is to love man; for what kind of love is that, if I bear it toward a

father, and hate his children whom he dearly loves?

Thirdly, that man is a free moral agent, subject, however, to the moral

laws of his Maker, the ultimate end of whose whole counsel is the

welfare of his children. It came to me that when we love each other,

live in peace, “bear each other’s burden,” and guide each other in the

path of righteousness, we are “co-workers with God;” and when we do

otherwise we bring misery and wretchedness upon ourselves, for which

we suffer and stand responsible to God. Although I had believed in

a future life long before I came to Christ, yet I did not possess a

rational idea of it,--it was wrapped up with a garment of mystery. The

worshippers of Shiba will be received in his Koylas,--those of Krishto

in his Goluck, etc., where they will breathe the breezes of different

Paradises. I often thought these must be narrow heavens indeed that do

not admit all. Again, how could the joys of heaven be perfect if we

do not meet with those dearest relations who died a long time ago, and

the objects of our love and affection taken away from us at different

times? My mother worships Krishto, and Shiba was my god, so of course

we both will be received by our respective gods. Would not the pangs

of separation attend us wherever we go? and even, taking for granted

that we are to see each other occasionally, it must be something like

visiting! But the future state which Christ promises us is where not

only our kindred might be admitted, but where those from east and west,

north and south would “meet to part no more.” “In my Father’s house

are many mansions,” he says, which “he goes to prepare for us.” What

a blessed hope it is for one who loves all the children of God, and

likes to see them, to live with them, and pray with them! In regard

to Christ, my impression became that he is the _Sent_ of God,

his “beloved Son” indeed. He was raised especially by our Father to

regenerate the world, to proclaim peace and good will unto men,--to

bring the wanderers back, to uplift degraded humanity, and break the

sting of death, and “bring Immortality to light.” He was a true model

of Humanity,--a perfect man. He was what man ought to be. Whatever

attributes of the Most High could be grasped by a finite nature were

fully given to him; so it is no wonder when we call him Immanuel or the

“express image of God.” We are all made in the image of God; but it is

a pity that we do not long stand in the state of purity, do not retain

our original stamp; the world paints us over, and thereby disfigures

us. But the plane where Christ stood was very high,--far beyond the

reach of the world; so that while on earth, he lived and moved with

celestial graces, and enjoyed sweet communion with his God always, and

died as a resigned Son indeed. He was entirely different from all

other religious teachers who have ever blessed the earth with their

instructions. There was one peculiarity in him which had not attained

its perfection in other religious teachers. Whatever this divine

Teacher taught he exhibited in his own life, showing thereby to the

world the practicability of his doctrines. A geographer informs us of

the position and the height of a mountain, the rise, course, and fall

of a river, and draws a map for illustration, that he may convey the

truth distinctly unto us. In like manner Christ performed his mission.

He teaches us humility,--behold the Saviour of the world washes the

feet of the low castes of Judea! He speaks love,--lo! he breathes love

from the cross, when the cruel and wicked sons of man were driving

nails through his innocent limbs! “Father, forgive them, for they know

not what they do!”

Desiring to be profited by Christ and to throw off the burden of

superstition, and to put on the yoke of Christ instead, I secretly

yielded to the longing for a new life. The old habits, religious

ordinances, the once beloved idols, seemed dry, unimportant things. I

could no longer hide myself within the “veil of taciturnity.” Now and

then I dared to speak to my friends new things, to breathe unto them

new affections, and to surprise them with new deeds. I would detail

as well as I can remember the trials, misunderstandings, and ridicule

that crowned my brow subsequently. The life of Christ proved so sweet

to me that I felt quite sure others would like it, so in the afternoon

I would go to some friend to read from it. Some liked it as a story;

others felt quite amused hearing of the miracles of Christ, as they

see most of them attempted by their countrymen, and their legendary

books too abound with such things. Even the raising of Lazarus from the

grave and the resurrection of Christ did not surprise them because

there was no novelty in them. I must confess, however, the miracles of

Christ did not strike me very much. Having witnessed some like them

done before me, and having read of such in our religious books, I did

not “seek after a sign,” but perceived wonderful miracles performed by

Jesus spiritually in my own case. These very hands of mine which did

not touch the low caste before, now stretched forth to embrace them.

Having eyes, I could not before see my path clearly; but Jesus made and

put clay on them, and told me to wash them in the pool of the Gospel,

which I did, and now I begin to see. I was deaf to the cry of duty; but

the gentle voice of the Teacher entered in, and I now hear it without

prejudice. I was possessed with “_devils_,”--the “_legions_,”

for they were many,--such as caste feeling, hatred towards low castes,

prejudices, etc.; but they all fled before the divine presence of

Christ, saying, “What have we to do with thee, thou Son of God.” Thus

I cared more for these spiritual miracles which helped me to begin a

new life and understand the worth of Jesus and his mission more vividly

than anything else could have done. I am aware that Christ himself

appealed to his miracles to prove to the Jews the divine sanction of

his mission. “If ye believe not me, believe my works.” But it was to

the simple yet weak-minded people that he spoke in that way. To some

he refused any miracle,--declined to do anything surprising, but spake

with authority as no man did before. I do not disbelieve the miracles

performed by Christ, as he says whatever he does he does by the power

of God, to whom everything is possible; as our poets say, that “He

can cause a pigmy to reach the moon, and a lame man to jump over a

mountain.” So is the belief with almost all of the intelligent Hindoos.

The Raja Rammohun Roy, too, cared more for “the precepts of Jesus”

than for his miracles. In his compilation of the words of Christ, he

begins with his words in the Sermon on the Mount, I think. He wanted

to have his countrymen know and value and follow what Christ said,

more emphatically, than rest upon what he did miraculously. Therefore,

believing as I did, in the miracles of Jesus, and knowing what would be

the feeling of my friends, I did not hold them as the foremost part of

Christianity, but presented to them the wise yet intelligible, the rich

yet simple, counsels of our Master.

While I was proceeding in this way to read and speak from the

New Testament, some Hindoo friends rose against me and reported

to the village and to my mother that I was soon going to be a

“_Beef-eater_” or Christian. This, of course, alarmed my mother

exceedingly, and she aroused all her energies to save me from the

impending ruin. Where shall I hide the New Testament? was the anxious

question that troubled me. She herself cannot read, so that was some

relief on that score. But the boys would come in my absence and take

any Christian book from my room and show it to my mother, making her

miserable thereby. Her fear of losing me grew so great, and also of

the disgrace that would surely fall upon the family in case I became

an apostate, or, worse than that, a “beef-eater,” that I had to feel

anxious about my other books while away, lest she should throw them all

into the water. Being acquainted with Rev. Mr. Dall, who kindly gave me

Unitarian tracts, I found great relief afterwards, because the tracts

being small, not handsomely bound, and not having the “Holy Bible”

written on them, my mother did not care about them. A large book,

handsomely bound, often creates suspicion among the Hindoos, especially

if the bearer be known to be an Anti-Hindoo in the least. Once I was

coming home with a large volume of the Bengalee translation of “Lamb’s

Tales of Shakespeare,” which I had borrowed from a rich Brahmun friend

in a neighboring town. Some men, pretending to hold a friendly talk

with me, made me stop. One said, “You have read a great many books, I

presume more than G----, P----, and M----, etc., have done. That’s a

pretty large book in your hand; did you get it from a Missionary?” I

gave the book to the speaker, who curiously opened it and read, “Romeo

and Juliet,” “Tempest,” “Macbeth,” &c., as its contents.

Christ says the tree will be known by its fruits. And again, if ye

love one another the people will know that ye belong to Christ. Seeing

our Master visit frequently the low, the despised, and the publicans

in their humble homes, my affection turned toward the publicans in

India. An angelic love hitherto unknown, which is “not a respecter

of persons,” sat in my eyes, and before them all the castes of the

Hindoos, from the Brahmun down to the hog-keeper, looked alike. I could

no longer accept their salutation without returning the same, and this

brought upon me the indignation of the Brahmuns and the terror of other

castes. With much fervor and perhaps with less prudence, I went to the

extreme at first, in returning the low caste the very _kind_ of

salutation he made; thus, when he bent his head to me I did likewise

to him; when he touched my foot, I wished to do the same. Of course

this was too much condescension on my part, which my friends could not

bear for a moment. They feared that my teaching them that way would

offend the gods, and consequently that something dangerous would happen

to them from their wrath! In order to make the matter sure and expose

me to the public hatred, some Brahmun boys would engage a low caste

to salute me reverently,--to take the dust of my feet and see what I

did. If I returned the honor thus offered me, the whole company would

clap their hands, ridicule me, and report it to my mother and other

high-caste relations. I realized in a measure how our Master had been

troubled by the cunning Jews who now came to gainsay his words; then

rebuked him for eating with the low castes, &c. One night while we were

discussing religious topics, (as they were wont to do, in order to get

from me my free thought that they might accuse me of infidelity,) one

asked, “Joguth, suppose you wanted some advice in relation to religious

matters, and the son of the washerman, B----, was fully able to give

it to you, would you go to him or to a priest?” Although I knew the

craft underlying the question, still I answered that, “If I can find

pure gold in a ditch close by my house, I would not go to Australia

for it.” The curious brother sprung up from his seat and hurled

anathemas on my head, saying I was the ruin of our family, a shame to

my caste, and an unworthy son to my father; that I would soon wear a

coat and hat, eat cows and hogs, and drink wine, etc. Such disagreeable

experiences, frequently visited upon me with ridicule and contempt,

gave me courage and wisdom. I applied the wisdom of serpents and the

innocence of a dove, as far as I possibly could, in my encounters with

those fault-seeking brethren. Under such circumstances _peace_

seemed as if it would desert me; but I retained its sacred influence

in my heart, and longed for that peace which the world cannot give

nor take away. Notwithstanding all these discouraging surroundings I

determined to be “about my Father’s business,” to go to the people and

speak to them kindly what I believed would promote their happiness in

life here and hereafter. Besides speaking to those within my reach in

my daily walks in life, I sought as places of my resort, the workshops

of some goldsmiths and weavers. These men I found very pleasant,

possessed of little education, but with a great deal of intelligence,

able to conduct a discussion upon high themes, and to comprehend the

best writings of the country. I found them, too, very familiar with

the Hindoo legendary works. Every afternoon and evening almost, half a

dozen men would assemble there, and one of the party would read aloud

from a religious book. But their attachment to the gods and their

legends did not hinder my going to them; on the contrary they always

used to talk with me upon religious and moral topics. By and by I

sought acquaintance with a party of young rowdies belonging to several

castes. Almost all of them drank wine, and frequented disreputable

places for pleasure and music. Nowhere did I enter with such an

earnestness to do good as here. I thought this was the true harvest to

be gathered, and I must work in it. Modesty stops my pen in writing

about the character I exhibited among them, but it is enough to say

that love and perseverance characterized my labor here. The young men

belonging to my own caste remonstrated with me, protesting that instead

of doing any good among these corrupted low castes, I should surely

bring ruin upon myself, and that my course was foolish. To these I did

not hesitate to repeat distinctly the words of Christ, to the effect,

that the sick people want medicine, but the healthy ones do not.

In course of time I found myself entirely deserted by my former

associates,--the friends who lived in the same quarter with me. In

fact, their animosity, arising from my not joining them in their

excursions for pleasure and sporting, grew so great that very few would

favor me with a smile or a word. One afternoon, as I was coming home

from Hourah, I met a dozen of them playing Mou machie, or beehive. One

of them inquired of me where I had been, and I answered in a low voice

and slowly, for I was very tired then, having had to walk home seven

miles without dinner. This amused them exceedingly, and each of them

attempted to surpass his comrades in imitating my voice.

These brethren reported to my mother all about my visits to the low

castes, my teaching them Christian doctrines, etc., and thereby made

her doubly miserable. Sometimes she would not eat anything, would weep

for hours, and throw away my books. “Joguth, I cannot bear all these

jokes and hard words; they complain of your teaching their children not

to fear gods, respect Brahmuns, etc. Being a Brahmun, you mix with low

castes. I am afraid you will sit at dinner with them some time, as you

say ‘caste is nothing.’ O Joguth, has Jom (or death) forgotten your

house?”

Although I felt quite sure that the gods of my country are mere

imaginary deities, or some ancient heroes deified after death, still

I could not readily free my mind from the fear and respect I bore

for them from my infancy. But something must be done, some measure

must be taken to make an experiment of their power, so that I need

bend before their images no longer. An old anecdote coming vividly to

my mind, seemed to discourage me for a while. It was this. Nearly a

couple of years before I had been to worship the idols belonging to

a widow. It was a winter evening, and carelessly I had forgotten to

cover them with their warm clothes. Next day I was told by that widow

of the great crime I had done, and I felt much frightened to see the

images suffering in cold. She said she retired late, as usual, and

notwithstanding a quantity of clothes on her back she felt chilly.

Not knowing the reason of such an unusual experience, she came to

the closet and found the idols laying unprotected in the cold! Now

a great fear filled my heart at the thought that, if owing to my

carelessness, the innocent woman suffered, how much more will I have

to suffer if I neglect the gods forever. But upon consideration that

God is mightier than all, that if we come unto him for protection, no

god, no spirit, can hurt us in the least, I grew strong. I would not

have gone so far as to touch irreverently the idols, had it not been

to see whether there is any consciousness in them; because I had been

taught to believe that they are living beings. So, one by one, I tried

the strength of the idols that fell within my reach, in treating them

with less care. Thus, one day while I was bringing down the idols from

a high place, like a mantelpiece, the heaviest of them fell down on the

floor, making a loud noise thereby. Hastily I picked it up, examined

whether any damage had been done or not, and washed it as usual. At

first, I thought I would not worship it in the prescribed ways; but,

fearing it would be too much for the first time, I thought it prudent

to worship it as usual. Thus privately taking steps too bold, too

improper for a Hindoo to venture, I determined to see the end. During

the time of Shundhas I would not repeat the creed-like formula, but

simply say Gayothrie several times, because the latter is a prayer to

an invisible, immortal Creator. My mother watched my movements for a

while, and inquired whether I had forgotten my Shundhas, saying that I

used to repeat them in an hour, but that I now finished in ten minutes!

I told her I remembered them all. But she would not believe it, and

called my older brother to examine me, which he did to his entire

satisfaction. He told her I knew them so well that it did not take me a

long time to repeat them.

To a town on the other side of the Ganges I had to go occasionally

to worship idols. During the holidays I was sent by my mother there

to worship the goddess of Learning. I did not repeat any prayer. I

sat down before the idol, and scattered flowers in the usual way. The

matron said, “I wonder how you could perform this worship in so short

time!” I felt embarrassed, and sitting before the idol in the next

house, spent more time in reciting slowly my English lessons learned

long ago,--such as “The English Grammar is the art of speaking and

writing the English language correctly.” “The Caspian sea or lake is

surrounded by Russia, Tartary, and Persia.” “A straight line that

divides a circle in two equal parts is called its diameter,” etc.,

and no complaint was made then. I am fully aware I did a great many

things at this stage of my experience which certainly wore a double

aspect,--not daring to let these changes in my faith be known to my

friends, and at the same time not wishing to follow what I conceived

to be superstition. Finding me going daily toward the wrong way, as it

seemed to my dear mother, she determined to commit me to the charge of

our family Gooroo, or spiritual guide, and to put his yoke on my neck!

This I resisted with my indifference, argument, and obstinacy, because

the life under Gooroo is indeed a life of foolishness. The Gooroo

selects from the hosts of gods a certain one for his disciple,--the

name and the nature of which he is to hide from the world and worship

it as his own. Again, what is worse still, he is to regard the Gooroo

as identical with his god, to worship him and do homage unto him, just

as he would to his God himself! When he visits the family every member

prostrates before him, and worships him. I hated to do that for three

reasons,--first, that since I had lost my faith and loyalty to the very

gods, I could not have any regard for a man whose only office was to

bind me into slavery unto him and the gods; secondly, I felt satisfied

with that unerring, unselfish Teacher who said, “Call no man thy

master,” etc., “I seek not mine own glory,” “Why callest thou me good?”

etc.; and hence, thirdly, I believed that the Gooroo and myself were

walking on the same road, side by side, so that neither ought to gain

a mastery over the other. But my good mother, like all other Hindoos,

felt otherwise. She sincerely believed that the influence of Oopodesh,

or regeneration by the hands of the Gooroo, would fill my heart with

new grace from _Istdele_ (the god selected by the Gooroo).

She sent for him, and he came to our house to convert me, not by

reasoning to the truth, but by the pretended majesty of his rank,--by

his appeals to the Hindoo customs,--unto gross superstition, which,

with prayers and tears I was trying to get rid of. At first I made

excuses, saying, “Let him give ‘montra’ (sacred words) to my oldest

brother; I am young, so there is no hurry about it now,” etc. But I

knew full well the purpose of my mother,--that she was anxious to chain

_me_, who was about to fly away from the gods! She said it would

look well to have the two brothers take _montra_ together--that it

would cost less, etc. More than six times the day for our “Oopodesh”

had been fixed, but I was where I was, or perhaps a little “higher.”

Sometimes, seeing that man coming to our house, from a distance, I

would immediately go to some friends and remain there until he had gone

home. My mother would follow my track now and then and bring me to

him, and plead for my indifference! One afternoon I was sleeping in my

room, and he came and began to talk to my mother. I determined not to

see him (as the rule would require me to prostrate myself before him,

which I hated to do). I thought I would go out by the back door, and

thereby escape the degradation of worshipping a man for the present,

if not the rebukes of my mother. But she came into my room ere I had

time to put my theory into practice, saying, “Joguth! Joguth! there is

Gooroo, who wants to see you.” I tried vainly to keep still and pay no

heed to her, as if I was in a profound sleep! She whispered into my

ear, “Do not insult the Gooroo--it is an unpardonable sin on your part,

Joguth. His look of displeasure will surely burn you to death,” etc.

At last, finding her too urgent, I declared openly that I had got the

“montras” from a Teacher, and that I did not want any other than these,

“The Lord our God is one Lord,” or “Om aka meb ’ŏ the ti-ung,” “There

is _one_ God without a second.” This did not satisfy her; although

my constant indifference to the Gooroo frightened him so he never dared

to raise the question again, yet my mother, perhaps, still hopes that I

might yield, for she _cannot_ conceive how I could do otherwise.

Thus troubled at home and ridiculed abroad, I longed for a free,

genial atmosphere. The very gentleness I wished to display at home,

the kindness to the low castes, brought ridicule upon me, and many

times I went to secluded places to cry to my Father and my God.

Providentially I had been acquainted with Baboo C. C. S., a native

convert to Christianity, and an energetic, highly-educated young man;

but the community hated me _more_ for this reason. As, owing to

the opposition and vigilance of my friends, I could not find a chance

to study the New Testament, I resorted to the memoirs of noble men and

women for Christianity. The life of Mrs. Mundey, the missionary to

India, interested me very much; the “Pilgrim’s Progress,” “Chambers’s

Biographies,” etc., gave me ample instruction. Indeed, I seemed to

find Christian truth almost everywhere,--in grammars, geographies,

histories, in the world around, and in the heaven above.

Through an earnest search I gathered a few friends who, though they did

not quite dare to forsake the gods and to reject the caste prejudices,

still promised a happy result in future. But none of these were my

nearest neighbors, so that I could go to them and spend a little time

in a pleasant way.

To see whether our caste feelings were gone or not we proposed an

experiment--and as it would not be possible to take a meal in a low

caste’s house because of the household, we resolved to cook some food

privately, and see what we could do. Accordingly, on a rainy evening,

we three, one a young farmer, a physician, and myself a Brahmun, cooked

some Khichwry (rice and a kind of peas highly seasoned with spice). I

could not help in the cooking, being entirely unacquainted with the

process, but our farmer friend, I think, was a “pretty good cook.” To

rise to the climax of the freedom so privately sought, I consulted with

some trustworthy and religious brethren, who hailed the enterprise

with joyous hearts. We used to meet in a field, and, on account of

the ground being wet, to spread some leaves over it, and thereby made

quite soft, comfortable seats. We did not know then what particular

form of prayer to offer to God, so I suggested to our brethren that we

would offer child’s prayers--bring all our wants, both temporal and

spiritual, before the throne of grace in perfect trust, and let Him

give or deny unto us whatever he pleased. So we prayed that the good

Father would cure our headaches, fevers, etc., that he would make us

good, honest, learned men.

This novel gathering in the field aroused the curiosity of the people,

who feared we should some day become very troublesome to the community.

The report reached almost every ear, and we were taken for adulterers,

or what is worse still, “_Kistans_” (Christians). This latter

charge was brought especially on account of _my_ being connected

with the party. But we did not feel discouraged, for we believed that

to make our thanks and wants known to our good Father, we need not

go here or there, close our eyes or open them, kneel down or stand

on our feet, utter words or observe silence, for the Object of our

worship is a Spirit, that fills the universe with his presence, and

who knows all, inspects all, loves all his creatures. Still man is a

social creature,--he wants advice, guidance, and help from others,--he

improves himself by others’ example. This change of my religious ideas

gave me one singular feeling: love for man in general, or in other

words, love for the low castes wherever they could be found.

Nothing pleased me more than a crowd of men in whose faces, eyes, and

movements we distinctly read the wisdom, love, and spirit of God. So I

wished very much to be with them, especially for religious purposes;

but my singular views of religion drove them away. In Calcutta there

are Christian churches where I could not attend, much as I desired to

do so. On Sunday, on my way to or from my friends in the city, I would

stand in a street on which a church is placed, watch the people as they

entered in, and eagerly lend my ears to the voices that were sending

up to the throne of grace the praises and songs. Of course I could

not stand long there, the bustling noise of the carriage-wheels would

drown the joyous voices, and so I reluctantly would direct my steps

homeward, uttering, “Blessed is the place where God is worshipped in

spirit!” O Father! though my countrymen worship thee through idols and

pictures, through forms and ceremonies, I rejoice to think that others

adore thee in spirit! A young Brahmun sold me six English books which

he had bought at a public auction in Calcutta. One was the “Memoir

of Mrs. Mundey,” two were books of Common Prayer, and the rest were

novels. My soul swam in ecstasy when I found that almost on every page

the prayers begin with “Our Father,” “Most Gracious God,” “O God, our

Father!” etc. Reading them earnestly, reflecting on the sweet, fervent,

childlike expression of the heart therein, my joy knew no bounds. I

made a present of one Prayer-Book to a Brahmun friend, and reserved

the other for my own edification. I must confess, however, that the

closing lines of the prayers, such as “in the name of our Saviour,”

“through Jesus Christ our Lord,” etc., filled my heart with confusion.

I believed God is unbounded love in his very nature,--gives his

blessings to his children before they know to ask for them. Why then

should I implore his mercy in the name of Christ? In the Hindoo prayers

I had found such conditions. I had been taught to expect blessings from

a deity through a second or third hand, so I feared these expressions

in the Prayer-Books might have the same meaning. In the heat of

enthusiasm at my freedom from superstition--with a desire to come to

God directly, I took my pencil and cancelled these lines. By and by I

came to the Litanies, where I met with “Glory to God the Son, and to

God the Holy Ghost,” etc. Who can these Gods be? inquired I of myself.

What book is this that teaches us to worship them? Let me see; is it a

Christian Prayer-Book that I have bought, or what? Spending a few days

in doubt and confusion I sought my friend to whom I had given a Common

Prayer-Book, and to my utter surprise found him troubled likewise. He

had marked out several passages in that book which ascribe glory and

worship to God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost, etc., which he declared

foreign to the New Testament doctrine. We examined carefully some of

the leading places in the New Testament the second time, and found no

such thing as glory to the Son there. The Son says he did not come

to seek his “own glory.” When the disciples desired him to teach them

to pray, he said, “After this manner pray ye, Our Father which art in

heaven,” etc. Again, the very idea of worshipping “God the Son,” and

“God the Spirit,” seemed to us quite amusing if not quite _new_,

for we were accustomed to worship god the son, god the nephew, goddess

the niece, etc., while Hindoos in faith. So we thought we would not

worship these extra gods of the Prayer-Book, however moderate their

number is. It seemed absurd to us to offer supreme homage to a person

subject to hunger, thirst, weakness, sorrows, death, etc., and who

worshipped the same God with his disciples, and who craved for sweet

communion with his God,--to lay before him all his soul’s deepest

longings. Christ, I read in the Gospels, often sought mountain-tops, or

river-sides, away from the little band, to spend hours in prayer.

Not being able to remain in this state of suspense any longer, I went

to a clergyman and informed him of my sincere desire to know the God of

whom Christ is the “Beloved Son.” Very kindly he offered me his cordial

hands, introduced me to his library, and promised me his blessing every

way. At his request that I would attend the morning services in his

church, which were held at seven, I rose early and walked six miles

so as to get there in season. The services were conducted in Hindoo

fashion in some respect, as he did not read the Scripture himself:

there was another present to take that part. Prayers were offered

in behalf of the queen, the council, etc., which I liked very much,

because in seeking good for others we show our love for them. But alas!

the old trouble again! Again I heard of “God the Son, and God the Holy

Ghost” there!

Learning my troubles, and with a view to alleviate them, the minister

gave me a book called “Catechism,” but unfortunately, owing to the

peculiar state of my mind, it made the matter worse still. In it for

the first time I read expressions like the following, “As the very

God of very God,” “begotten, but not made,” “one in three, three in

one,” “yet distinct,” which to me sounded anything but rational. I

begged the minister to explain these things to me as they appeared

contradictory among themselves. I believed the very God is always very

God, and the very man is always very man,--they cannot be otherwise;

that humanity and Deity are two distinct things, so that they cannot

be made identical. Again, the word _Trinity_ was something new,

which, in my study of the New Testament I did not meet with. I was told

that these things lie beyond the reach of human conception; that our

best effort to understand or to explain them would be fruitless; that

although they seem contradictory and absurd to us, in reality they are

not so, because they are unfathomable truths,--the children of the

Revelations. This did not satisfy me, for I could not believe that our

reason would contradict what the Revelation has to say. In looking

at the matter with a simple and earnest mind, we see that Revelation

brings us new and important truths and is not afraid of the close

inspection of reason. Revelation owes much to reason, without which it

cannot perform its mission. God gave Revelation unto _us_, who are

endowed with reasoning faculties, that we might examine, reflect upon,

and receive its contents. Reason, then, is the key to open Revelation.

Again, there is _no failure_ in God; whatever he wishes to do

is done in the best manner possible. So if he wished to bless his

children with new truth in relation to his own nature, under the

new dispensation, he could do it distinctly, intelligibly, and to

their satisfaction. Our reasoning faculties do not object to the

sublime truths like these, “Behold, Israel, the Lord our God is one

Lord,” “Love thy neighbor as thyself,” etc., because these and their

kindred ones are substantial truths that men can live and die by.

Men of different religions, culture, age, and accomplishment almost

unanimously regard the above-mentioned precepts with reverence. There

is no controversy about them. Thus truth stands on its own ground,

self-existent, self-supporting forever.

“A thousand honest doubts are more manly than a single cowardly assent

to a proposition,” are the words of a Boston clergyman. I realized the

beauty of his doctrine in this stage of my inquiry. As I had got over

the fear of being damned, for not believing what my reasoning powers

bore testimony against, and what _my Teacher_ does not speak of,

I bade _farewell_ to the Christian minister with reluctance, and

directed my steps towards home.

My disappointment in seeing Christianity set before me in so many

unintelligible, mysterious doctrines, reminds me of a curious anecdote.

A man, poor from his early years, accustomed to live upon all sorts of

coarse food, became the guest of a very opulent man. He anticipated a

great treat there: he thought he would get some luxurious food, but to

his great surprise he found nearly the very coarse things he used to

eat at home, ready for his disposal. Astonished, he stood before the

table and began to give vent to his disappointment. “Friends! I left

you all in my broken cottage; here I am in a princely mansion, how did

you manage to come here? I did not think of meeting you so soon, and in

such a place!”

My disappointment was strong when I was greeted by so many absurd

doctrines, that pass under the name of Christian. I left Brahmunism

on account of these same obscure, dry, unintelligible precepts with

which it is crowded, and approached unto the handsome edifice of

Christianity with the hope of finding something better. But lo, the

very absurdity again! In Christian countries the people open their

Bibles, not so much to derive a certain belief from the pages as to

find support for an already acquired one. They go already prepared to

find this or that view. Thus a Unitarian child meets the doctrines

on the Unity of God throughout the Bible; and on the other hand, a

Trinitarian child finds hints and supports for his Trinity almost on

every page within its covers. My case was quite different; when I came

to Christ I did not anticipate much save that whatever he would utter

unto me must be sublime, redeeming, vital truths.

“What shall I do now?” became an important inquiry; go back to the

gods and goddesses of my fathers, or what? I felt ashamed of that

_catechism_, so I hid it under my books, that no opponents might

see it and ridicule Christianity before my face. Christianity is not

at all responsible for the hosts of dry, strange, unintelligible

dogmas that claim our assent. Some time afterwards my nephew, a boy

of thirteen, happened to open this old catechism of mine and to read

the “creeds.” He smiled a little, and said, “Uncle, what book is

this?” “That’s a catechism; don’t you see? It contains the Articles

of Faith!” “Of what faith, uncle?” “Of the Christian faith,” said I.

“Don’t say so! I declare! Isn’t the New Testament sufficient for that

purpose? Here, you see, I read Christ was both God and man. God is

one, yet has three distinct persons. Do the English people believe in

these things?” “Certainly they do,” I rejoined. The little boy closed

the book, saying, “Uncle, it makes me smile to think that the English

people who drive railroad engines, build steamboats, and send messages

through electric wires, should not know the difference between man and

God,--one and three,” etc.

After a short season of the “Suspense of Faith,”--not knowing where to

go, I met a young friend from Calcutta who is a member of the “Brahmo

Somaj,” founded by the celebrated Raja Ram mohun Roy himself, or by

his followers, I am not sure which. He brought me a large sheet of

partly printed paper in which I entered my name, residence, date of

subscription, etc., and thus took the name of “Brahmo,” or deist, as

far as the _unity_ of God is concerned. But as we wished to make

our religion depend more upon our _works_, our affections, our

love toward men in general, than upon a certain belief, I did not find

much satisfaction in my deist life. The Bengalee deists are men of

admirable character, of great intelligence, and of mild disposition,

but the majority of them lack the spirit of freedom. They do not have

much faith in the idols I think, but they have idols _at their

houses_, which are worshipped and taken care of at their expense.

How far they repudiate the caste system I am not sure, for I have not

seen nor heard of high-caste deists dining with low-caste brethren

publicly, nor have I known a Brahmun deist to marry the daughter of

other castes. I do not mean that _these_, i. e. eating, drinking,

and marrying with different castes are the essential parts of religion,

and that as such the Calcutta deists do not observe them. No; the caste

system, notwithstanding all its policy and the good it pretends to

do, is obviously detrimental to the progress of the masses in India.

It lies like the heavy Hymaloy over the heads of the low castes: they

cannot rise upward intellectually, socially, or spiritually. Hence the

first religious, philanthropic act of those who see the defects of the

caste system, ought to be to help its removal and to inaugurate a state

of equality among the people. My deistical brethren hardly take that

step, although they eat and drink forbidden food and liquor with rich

low castes, or with Christian people even privately. They have some

saintly men among them. I admire their precepts, honor their private

lives, and deem them noble. But they do not come like Jesus of Nazareth

unto the publicans and sinners, or to those with unwashen hands.

I became acquainted with a young Brahmun deist,--Baboo Raj-kifsen

Bannerjea, of Mahessolla, whom I found the embodiment of truth, love,

and piety. Indeed, the first _angel_ I met in this world was he.

His very mild appearance, his soft eyes, shedding forth love from

them, his tender voice, are the index of his inward accomplishments.

He is a man of considerable learning, and of wealth and high standing

in the community. Would I knew what first led him to reject the idol

gods! It would make a volume to write all about his life, which, though

short, is full of noble, philanthropic acts. His charity is broad,

yet discriminating; his dealings with others are frank and kind, yet

impartial; his manners are prudent, yet childlike. He observes Christ’s

rule as far as it is possible in regard to giving alms,--not letting

the left hand know what the right hand doeth. For the benefit of the

children of high and low castes he established a school at his own

expense chiefly; for the little help which he received from a few

individuals was frequently withdrawn on account of his anti-heathen

principles.

He has a large landed property which he manages with great caution, as

well as to the entire satisfaction of his subjects. I was present one

day at his office when a Mohammedan man was brought in on the charge of

robbing the garden of our Brahmun friend, his landlord. While he was

swearing vehemently in the name of his Allah, to convince the officers

of his innocence, our friend had been working an algebraic sum. Having

finished his work, he looked at him pityingly and with a tender voice,

said, “Friend, swear not! Think how much wrong you have done unto us!

You know all! you owe some money to us,--you are my subject. These two

obligations bind you to our family, as you say; you ought to protect my

property against the usurper,--lo! you are a usurper yourself! I wonder

you do not feel sorry for your conduct!”

Noble as this brother is, admirable as his deeds are, he lacks, as I

have observed before, that degree of moral courage which none but the

“Sent” of God could give. While enjoying the pleasure and privilege of

being with these brethren, and deriving much edification from their

amiable lives, the under-current of my soul was constantly flowing

toward Christ. I could not go away from him, nor forget his loving,

precious words that brought me out of superstition. Are not there men

who believe as I do,--that God is _strictly_ one,--that Christ

is the best of all religious teachers whom the world ever had or will

have, that he is the Sent and oldest Son of our common Parent? If

there are not any found professing such belief,--no matter; I shall

stand alone, and offer my help unto the world as far as I am able.

Theological differences would not stop my hand and heart from serving

and loving others, and this is the best religion indeed! While thus

defining my position and receiving instruction from Jesus secretly,

my esteemed friend, Baboo C. C. Singha, a convert to Christianity,

and who has been a preacher for three years, I should think, told me

that he had been told by Hodgson Pratt, Esq., of the arrival of a

Unitarian missionary in Calcutta, under the auspices of the American

Unitarian Association, and whose views of Christianity are different

from those of other missionaries. I could not understand the term

_Unitarian Christian_, because I was told if I did not believe

in the Trinity I was not a Christian, but a deist. We went to hear

the missionary, Rev. C. H. A. Dall, but not being accustomed to hear

or talk English, I did not gain much at first. He gave us his printed

sermons, and the writings of Channing, Burnap, Elliot, Cordner, Bartol,

etc., which, as I read them, not only confirmed what my belief had

been, but whispered to me, saying, “Friend, there are thousands on the

other side of the Atlantic who hold the same views of God as you do, so

you are not alone. Our fellowship and sympathy are yours.” Being made

acquainted with and interested in this missionary, I began to attend

his religious services on Sunday; but I could not do it regularly for

several reasons. Mr. Dall’s place is nearly seven miles from my house;

besides, there is the majestic Gunga to be crossed, which “alone is

twenty miles,” as the Hindoo saying is.[32] I had to take my breakfast

very early and to walk to and fro all the way, crossing the river by

steamboat either at Shal-kea, or Howrah. My dear mother was told by my

Hindoo brethren that I attended the religious services in a Christian

church, with Baboo C. C. Singha. She felt very much frightened at this,

and took measures to stop my going to Calcutta on Sunday. “If you will

not hear me, but will go to Calcutta on Sunday, go Joguth. The people

tell me, and I can presage too, what a disgrace and ruin you will bring

upon the family. They say you are almost a ‘_Kistan_’ now. You eat

_beef_ with the Yobuns; or, if you do not, they are quite sure you

will soon! I am afraid they will turn you out of the feast sometimes,

and I don’t blame them for it. Joguth, have you forgotten the proverbs

your father taught you? Remember that one member of the family destroys

its peace as one tree burns the whole forest, in creating fire by

conflagration. You will be the ruin of the family! You would not hear

the advice of those who are older and wiser than yourself; nor would

you heed my words. And why should you? The young bird, the moment its

wings are covered with down, leaves its mother’s nest to look out for

itself; so you, Joguth, you are grown up now; my advice, my guidance

would not be of any service to you (at least you think so). I do not

blame nor hate the Christians. Let them follow their own customs

faithfully. Jesu Kisto is their God; let them worship him; I have no

objection to that. As Brahmuns, we ought not to hate the gods of other

nations. Still we cannot worship them, for they are not ours; we have

gods over us. O what a pleasant sight it is to see the young Brahmuns

going to the sacred river, to the temples, etc. My heart is delighted

to see them! And you, mistaken child, hardly go to the temples or to

the Ganges! What business have you in Calcutta? If you will go there

on Sunday, go without breakfast; I shall not have it ready for you so

early,” etc.

Now, under these circumstances, I could not attend Mr. Dall’s services

on every Sunday, much as I wished to do so, and whenever I went, I went

without breakfast, and to the utter displeasure of my mother. On my

return, at four or five o’clock in the afternoon, she would not set the

plate before me, nor help me while I ate my dinner, but would go out of

the room to weep over the loss of her child.[33]

I grew so unpopular and the people began to dread me so much that they

would not let their boys visit Calcutta with me, lest I should make

them “Kistan.” But “where is will there is way,” is a true saying.

Notwithstanding all vigilance, ridicule, many from “north and south,

the east and west” of Calcutta would be glad to meet in Mr. Dall’s

room. Not fearing the difficulties, but rather rejoicing in them, with

an inward consciousness that we are not doing wrong before God,--that

to seek after the spiritual welfare of man in love, is the best service

humanity could render unto God and man,--some of us determined to form

a band of believers in and seekers after Truth. The Sunday-school

cards, containing beautiful verses, and the Sunday-School Gazette,

which Mr. Dall gave us, suggested the plan, and we succeeded in

gathering twenty-one high-caste boys, all of whom knew English more or

less. Not finding a convenient place for our purpose, we would meet in

some garden, away from the Brahmuns, and there read, sing, and speak

of God as set forth in the publications of the American Unitarian

Association, and of the Sunday-School Society. Again I was connected

with the school of Baboo C. C. Singha, a noble, energetic gentleman,

and this gave me a good opportunity to be known to many and to

disseminate the seeds of truth in their youthful hearts. But “a man’s

foes will be of his own household.” The brother of Baboo C. C. Singha,

a Trinitarian in his belief, having been converted to that faith in his

early years, began to trouble us in various ways, and not unfrequently

to take unfair measures and to use unkind words. From an American

book, called “Sargent’s Reader,” No. 3, I believe, I had selected a

beautiful piece, “Prayer for a Pure Heart,” and asked my young friends

to write it down and commit it to memory, which they did cheerfully.

This gentleman, while examining their writing-books, saw it, read it,

and liked it I am sure, and asked them who gave it to them. Of course

they told him that I had given it to them. He uncharitably made some

unkind remarks which surprised us all,--saying, in effect, “Joguth is

a hypocrite. Let him first be baptized, and then teach these things

to others,” etc. I smiled at this, and realized then the truth of Dr.

Channing’s discourse on the Church.

In the next chapter I shall attempt to give some reasons in relation to

my faith, and to state in what respects I differ from the brethren of

other denominations, and why.

CHAPTER IV.

WHY I BECAME A UNITARIAN.--MY OWN READING AND STUDY OF THE

BIBLE.--THE MISSIONARIES’ DOCTRINES.

Before I begin to give my reasons in regard to my taking the Unitarian

name, I should say that these reasons are my own. They are the

fruits of a mind uninfluenced by Unitarian, or Trinitarian theology.

Beside the New Testament, and the Author who studied his theology

“in the bosom of the Father,” I had no missionary to influence me at

first. So that what I say I utter from my own heart, and on my own

responsibility. Let not the Trinitarian condemn, nor the Unitarian

triumph on account of my views and interpretations of some of the

leading dogmas, which have split the Church of God into fragments. But

let them both charitably hear my free thoughts and testimony. I do not

attack nor flatter any particular dogmas, through force of sectarian

feeling.

My object is to seek truth with an unprejudiced mind, and to

speak it faithfully when found. I would observe perfect frankness

in my statements; and if I use any word, or expression, that

sounds irreverent to the reader, I would beg him to regard it as

unintentional, for I mean nothing irreverent, nothing hostile to true

piety. Moreover, I should say that I did not resort to Neander, Clarke,

Livermore, or other writers and commentators for help, not because I

should not value them, but because they are almost strangers to me.

I did not know that they were to be had, and so could not go to any

such commentary on the Life of Christ. I believe that the best and

most infallible commentary a man can write, is to explain Christ, by

his life, by his actions; thereby exhibiting him in vivid, living

illustrations. The blessed Teacher did not come to puzzle us with

intricate enigmas, nor to bind us under the heavy burden of mystery.

Nor did he come with imperfect knowledge of things, to favor us with

half of the necessary information, and leave us to guess out the other

half. Whatever he deemed necessary to the life, comfort, and salvation

of man, he taught distinctly, intelligibly, though often in parables.

He did not even resort, like the modern preachers, to those truths

in nature which lie beyond the conception of the masses; such as the

solar system, or the attraction of gravitation. But, that we all might

understand, and be profited by him, he alluded to the fowls in the

air, the lilies of the field, the fall of the sparrow, and the hair of

our heads. He prayed, and thanked his Father that through him He had

revealed truth unto babes, or simple-hearted men.

But I do not undervalue the earnest labors of those good Christian men,

who have written and who will write, commentaries upon the Gospels. I

honor every honest effort to edify man. But, as I said before, I put

more stress upon, and can understand more distinctly and profitably,

the commentaries written in actions, than those drawn out by pen and

ink.

The following are the points which I did not dream of, while studying

the New Testament,--which, when stated to me, I could not look at

without surprise, and could not believe. They are the doctrines of the

Trinity,--the total depravity of the human race, or human nature,--and

endless punishment in hell. Now as I hear of these, and their kindred

doctrines, I do not believe them, nor think they have anything to do

with true religion, because they seem to me irrational and unscriptural.

_The Trinity._--In giving my reasons for not believing this

doctrine of the church, I shall be as brief as possible. It is a

self-contradictory, and unintelligible riddle--a production of the

fancy wrapped up with a sense of piety. They say the Trinity is a

sublime union of the Three in One,--the Father, the Son, and the

Holy Ghost. Common sense teaches us that one is always one, and

three are always three. We distinguish persons by their respective

individualities. So the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, must each

have a distinct individuality, otherwise they could not be persons; and

if so, then they have their wills and affections separate from each

other. Under such circumstances, it is as absurd to receive the Father,

Son, and Holy Ghost as one, as it is to say, James, Mary, and Ellen are

one.

The religion of my country has a Trinity which I find far more

rational, more logically and philosophically consistent than the

Christian Trinity. And I do not think it a prudent choice to reject

the former, and accept the latter. Here is the Hindoo trinity, and the

relation--the equality between its three persons. “In the beginning,

there was Shuck-tie, or Power.” It is somewhat parallel with St. John’s

“In the beginning was the Word.” This “Power” was like the “Word” of

the Evangelist, a term of broadest import, including power in all its

elements, creative, sustaining, redeeming, sanctifying, destroying,--in

short denoting the whole substance of God, or it _was_ God.

Power manifested itself in three leading ways,--creative, sustaining,

and destroying. First of all, we need creation; so that power of God

(Bromho) which creates, becomes the first. Then, when something has

been created, we need support. The power or providence of God, that

supports the creation becomes the second. Finally, the economy of

nature requires destruction, so the power that destroys is the third.

These three are called a Triad. But it is obvious, that far from their

being the trinity of persons, they are the trinity of the attributes

of the same, one, great Being. These have been personified, and are

worshipped by the philosophical Hindoos, as the three deities.

One remarkable fact worth noticing is, the perfect equality between the

persons of the Hindoo Trinity.

We read in our sacred books, of Bromho (first) offering prayer to

Bishto (second); Bishto paying homage to Shiba (third). Sometimes

Bromho and Shiba worship Bishto, etc.

Compare the Christian Trinity with the Hindoo, with an unprejudiced

mind, and you will recognize a great difference between them. The

former would show its unsoundness when placed in contrast with the

latter. The Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. The first two are

Beings, and the third, which is essentially God himself, is not a

Being, for the spirit of a being cannot be a separate individual. In

Oriental countries, we address one man in various ways; taking one of

his peculiarities, and personifying it in rich allegories. The three

persons of the Godhead must be equal in power, glory, and substance.

There is no equality between the three in the Christian Trinity; at

least, this does not appear satisfactory to one who is unacquainted

with the system. There are numerous indisputable places in the New

Testament, where the subordination of the Son, is set forth in a clear

manner.

The very passages, which are produced to prove the equality of the Son

with the Father, speak in connection of his subordination unto Him.

“All power is given unto me in heaven and earth,” is a passage put

forth, by intelligent men and women, to show that Christ is God. They

put much stress on “_all power_,” while a simple, uninfluenced

mind would put it upon “_is given_;” for whatever is given unto us

does not make us equal to the giver.

The more we receive from him, the more subordinate are we, and the more

thankful ought we to be unto him. The world might call us great, and

be dazzled with our splendor, which is given to us; still the sense of

obligation demands our respect, our thanks, our worship for the Giver.

But Christ did acknowledge his Father as the giver of his wisdom,

power, and honor, and never said that these belonged to himself. Before

or after performing some miracles, when the weak-minded spectators

were liable to have taken him for God, he was particularly careful to

destroy that impression about himself; saying, that he himself could

do nothing; and thanked God for the power which enabled him to perform

wonderful things. He would offer prayer to his Father, soliciting his

smile upon his works. Thus, standing by the grave of Lazarus, he lifted

up his eyes to heaven, and said, “Father, I thank Thee that thou hast

heard me. And I knew that Thou hearest me always: but because of the

people which stand by I said it, that they may believe that Thou hast

sent me.”

Frequently, in view of his mightiest works, he tells us that his Father

is greater than himself. Now, he, who is greater than another, cannot

be equal to him, at the same time. Two and two are always greater

than one and one. With us it might be possible to compete with, and

surpass one who was greater than ourselves, in wealth, learning, and

popularity; but God’s glory is unchangeable. If the Father, who is

distinct from Christ,--being one of the three persons who form the

Trinity,--be greater than Christ, he is forever so. I know there are

some passages, in which Christ identifies himself with God; such as “I

and my Father are one.” “He who hath seen me hath seen the Father.”

Let me give my experience as these passages fixed my attention. It is

an undeniable fact that both the Old and New Testament were written in

Oriental languages, which abound in allegorical idioms.

* * * * *

My own thoughts very readily suggested to me the meaning of such

passages. When a plenipotentiary goes out to a foreign people, to

adjust or secure political or mercantile interests for the people or

king who sends him, he might very properly say that he and his king or

people are one. For he speaks and acts agreeably to the instructions

given him by the king or people he represents, and whatever he says and

does has been put into his power.

So Christ says he and his Father who sent him are one. He never did

or said anything against his Father’s will, and so he convinced the

world that he was the Sent--the especial viceroy of “the King eternal,

immortal, and only wise,” on the earth.

It is affirmed by Unitarian divines that, in order that the disciples

might not misunderstand Christ, when he said he and his Father are one,

he explained to them the nature of that oneness or union, by saying,

that the very disciples about him were one with him and with God. “That

they all may be one; as thou, Father, art in me, and I in thee, that

they also may be one in us.” Still it seems to me that the disciples

did not have any difficulty in understanding what he meant by, “I and

my Father are one;” for this is a common expression--a prevailing

phrase--of Oriental lands, and they were familiar with it. When two

or more persons are said to be one, it is obviously meant that they

are of the same spirit, profession, culture, or will. We see in the

New Testament, that simple, unadorned words of Christ puzzled the

Jews more than his figures and allegories. For instance, when Christ

told the sick man, “Son, be of good cheer; thy sins be forgiven thee,”

behold, certain of the scribes said within themselves, “This man

blasphemeth.”

The expression, “I and my Father are one,” does not strike an Oriental

as having some unfathomable, mystic meaning; nor does it convince him

of Christ’s being equal to his Father in glory, essence, and existence.

“He who hath seen me, hath seen the Father.” These words, I am told,

are regarded as the strongest support of Trinitarian doctrine; “Christ

in them declaring most distinctly his identity with God, in every

respect.”

But this is a simple thing again. Ask a Hindoo child of seven or eight

years old, to show you his father’s house. He will direct you to go

straight ahead a few rods till you come to a store, and leaving the

store on your right, to go a little way and you will presently see a

palm-tree; and if you see the palm-tree you see his father’s house.

Does this imply that the palm-tree is his father’s house? No. So the

passage, “He who hath seen me hath seen the Father,” does not convey,

to any one accustomed to the Eastern mode of expressing thoughts,

the idea that Christ is God. The palm-tree of the Hindoo child is so

_near_ to his father’s house that if you see the one you cannot

help seeing the other. Our dear Master exhibited such divine graces in

his life, that it is not blasphemous for him to say, “If ye have seen

me ye have seen the Father.”

I did not dream of a triune God as I studied the New Testament, and

when it was presented to me in the creeds I found no support for that

dogma in the Scriptures. It seems to me that the doctrine of a triune

God, is not able to give “life, comfort, and salvation to the world.”

It is neither essential to, nor a part of, the religion of Christ. It

is the production of Oriental philosophers. In the course of time, it

migrated from the East to the West. As it passed from hand to hand, and

country to country, it lost much of its peculiar beauty. In conclusion,

I should say that an intelligent Oriental finds nothing rational in the

doctrine of the Trinity as it exists among Christians, because he has

seen a better one in his own country. Indeed, to receive this doctrine,

so absurd, so unintelligible, would be as ridiculous for him, as for a

Bostonian to sail to Calcutta for a piece of ice.

_The Total Depravity of Human Nature._--As my time would not

permit me to consider this subject in a way I would like, and thereby

show my reasons for not believing it, I would simply resort to common

sense and the Scriptures to expose the awkwardness of this doctrine. I

fully believe that such enormous doctrine as that of calling a child of

the Most High a totally depraved creature--having nothing good in him,

_is_ not, and ought not to be a part of any man’s creed.

It discourages man. It puts a mountain in his way. It weakens his

faith in a loving Father, when he is told that impartial justice will

hold him responsible for all the iniquities which he was created to

commit. I am aware that believers in this doctrine would say that

the atonement, made by Christ for our sins, has satisfied eternal

justice,--that “the blood of the Lamb has washed our sins.”

“Bad leads to worse, and better tends to best.”

Admit one absurd theory, and it will bring others of the same nature to

its support.

The doctrine of the vicarious atonement is the centre of gravity which

supports the theory that man is a totally depraved creature. Without

the former, the latter will fall down on the ground, and break to

pieces, and no one would dare regard himself a wholly depraved being.

If I hear that a certain man in my city is an infallible physician to

cure consumption, I would not feel afraid to call my slight cough by

that fatal name--consumption. It troubles me to know what became of the

millions of souls born totally sinners, and who died before the blood

of the Lamb had been shed. Is it possible that our good Father filled

hell with human creatures, who bloomed in their infancy in the garden

of creation,--those simple, pure-minded ones, whom “no murder clothed

and no murder fed,”--who spent their lives in doing good?

* * * * *

Perhaps some will tell me that Christ died for all; both those who

lived before his appearance on earth, and those who lived after. Here

is some trouble again.

If I understand rightly, it is said that the mere fact of Christ’s

offering himself, would not wash away our sins. We must believe in

him in order to receive the benefit of his dying. If so, then, even

to-day, there are millions who have no opportunity to hear of Christ;

consequently they cannot believe in him and his gracious atonement.

St. Paul writes, “How then shall they call on him in whom they have

not believed? and how shall they believe in him of whom they have not

heard?”

The idea of one man’s suffering, or making atonement for the guilt

of others, is a strange one. In the world we do not see examples

of it. The man who is guilty before the court suffers. His weeping

wife, loving children, and kind parents are not called upon to take

his punishment, much as they might wish to do it. I am reminded of

a poem in the Ramayona. When the god Rama was coming home, the sea

stood before his car, in a human form and thus addressed him: “The

ten-headed,--Rabona, the great tyrant King of Sunka, or Ceylon, stole

away thy wife, and thou didst erect a bridge over, and chain the sea,

to reach his kingdom. O Son of Rhaga, nowhere do I hear of such a

strange decision,--that one commits a crime, and another suffers for

it.”

The total depravity of man’s nature is a doctrine that is not

recognized by Scripture. Of course, there are many places in the Bible

where the sins of man have been set forth in dark colors; but that does

not imply that he is wholly a sinful creature,--born to be so. There

are instances too numerous to mention, both in the Bible and in the

annals of the world’s history, of men and women living a life of purity

and love.

Let us see what the Scripture says,--that God created man in his own

image, is an undeniable fact. “So God created man in his own image, in

the image of God created he him; male and female created he them.” In

what sense is man the image of God? Is he the image of God’s person?

No, it cannot be so. If we say that, we become pagans, and give a

physical form to God. Now, the safest and most rational way to answer

is, to say that he is the image of God’s nature, spirit, and love;

because we recognize glimpses of these Godly graces in man, more or

less. Here comes a proposition that the image of anything must contain

the peculiarity, or some likeness of the original, otherwise it would

not be an image. If I wish to draw a picture or make an image of the

sun, I cannot make it an oblong, triangular, or square figure, I must

make it a circular one; otherwise, people would call me a poor artist,

and the image a wretched one,--the image of some fanciful object, but

not the Sun. God is infinitely pure, holy, perfect in his nature. How,

then, could his image be totally depraved? Again, if man be truly

a depraved creature in his very nature, our Master, then, must have

uttered some sentimental words when he said,“Be ye perfect even as your

Father in heaven is perfect.”

It is hard for us to understand that the image of unbounded Holiness

is totally depraved, and that totally depraved creatures should become

perfect as their “Father in heaven.” Let theologians call man a born

sinner, yet he is not so. The Great Theologian, who knew human nature

well, its capacity, its excellence, bade it “come up higher,” and “be

perfect.”

_The Doctrine of an Everlasting Hell._--I cannot conceive of

anything as everlasting but God. Everything has its end at some time,

or in some way; but God is without end. All but God is subject to

change. He, our good Father, is unchangeable and everlasting. The

Great King is the Sovereign over all,--heaven, and earth, and all the

hosts thereof. If there is a place called hell, it must be before His

omnipresence; for there is nothing that is not known, and seen, and

made by God. He could not create an everlasting hell to torture his

weak, frail children. Whatever He has created is for their good.

Heaven and earth, with all their wonders, unite to contribute to the

welfare of God’s creatures.

Everything that lies within, without, around, or above us, speaks of

God’s unfailing love towards his children. He has placed us under his

moral government, the violation of whose laws brings suffering. The

same is true also in our relation to the laws of Nature. When we break

them we suffer for it; and the suffering is conditional.

I put my hand into a blazing fire, and immediately I feel the effect

of my imprudence. I then take my hand back from the fire, and resolve

not to put it there again. If I try the experiment again, the same

suffering is inevitable.

The All-wise Father has so ordered, that the violation of his

laws, physical or moral, will bring suffering;--suffering produces

repentance;--repentance will beget reformation; and reformation will

meet the approbation and smile of God. Such are his laws, and they must

do their mission. He punishes to cure, and not to kill. “He wounds for

his mercy’s sake,--He wounds to heal.”

“The parable of the Prodigal Son,” verifies this truth. When the son

wanted to have his portion given to him, the good father knew well what

would be his lot, by and by. Yet he did not interfere with his wish,

for he had made him a free moral agent. The child leaves his paternal

abode, and spends his portion, his energies, in riotous living. He

becomes poor, has nothing to eat, and takes care of swine;--the

_very_ menial business in Oriental countries. His sufferings

create repentance in his bosom, and he starts for his father’s home.

What did the father do? Did he say, “Go from me forever, and live

in everlasting misery?” No. He is too good, too loving to say that.

He comes out of the house, welcomes the wanderer back, clothes him

with the best robe, and makes a feast. In the Bible there is mention

of everlasting fire; but the words are not in meaning according to

what they sound. If they were literally true, they would falsify

Christ’s “parable of the prodigal son.” It is a common Oriental way of

describing the state of unhappiness. When a boy I read these things

in Hindoo books. “It is said, Jom, or Death, has his angels, who dip

sinners in boiling oil. They fix large hooks in their throats and drag

them on some high places. They cause them to embrace pillars of fire,

and finally thrust them in ‘Nonuck Coondoo,’ or pit of dirt, in which

‘kit’ (a worm) dieth not.”

I am told that, taking the words of the Bible in a literal sense,

the Christian people believe in many absurd things, and teach them.

For instance, in a Sunday-school book, there is a question like the

following: “Where do the wicked go?” “To hell,” is the answer. All

right. “What kind of a place is hell?” “It is dark, and there the

worm dieth not, and there is fire unquenchable.” Now our common sense

springs up to protest against this unfortunate statement; declaring

that where there is fire unquenchable there cannot be dark at all. Such

a fire would light hell so splendidly as to enable its inmates to pick

up the very sand off its floor,--of course, if there be any.

Heaven and hell are within our own breasts. We experience the joys of

one and the pangs of the other. When we perform our duties faithfully,

and “love our neighbor as ourselves,” we then commune with God and his

angels; and that is what constitutes the joy of heaven. On the other

hand, when we neglect our duty,--seek after carnal lust,--defy God and

man by our thoughts and actions, and thereby bring sorrows, the hatred

of the world, and remorse of conscience--we make hell within us. A pure

and contrite heart is heaven, and a heart that loves self exclusively,

is hell.

Thus I have, very poorly but sincerely, attempted to give my reasons

for not believing in the Trinity,--the total depravity of human nature,

and everlasting torture in hell. To me they are unscriptural and absurd

doctrines. I do not trouble myself with mysteries, but receive the

simple words of Christ as my all-sufficient law, of which, “love to

God, and love to man,” is the essential part.

My Christianity begins where Christ opens his life, and ends where he

closes it. In his words I find my duty towards, and my relation to,

God, clearly defined. In Christ, I find a perfect humanity, and a safe

Guide to liberty, holiness, and love. Skilful orthodox ministers, who

are used to teaching those who are willing to hold their doctrines,

may pick apart these simple things which I have said. It will give them

no pleasure that I, a young man, have come out of the dark ways of my

people, and have found what rejoices my heart in Christ and in his God,

because I do not and cannot take with my blessed Christian faith the

opinions of the orthodox. I know what those opinions are; I knew them

before I gave up Hindooism, and they prevented me for some time from

finding light and joy in the Gospel. I know, too, what many of my own

countrymen, who have the best minds and who have outgrown Hindooism,

think of the views offered them by orthodox missionaries. Intelligent

Hindoos think that what these missionaries wish them to believe, as a

part of the doctrine of Jesus Christ, is very like some of the worst

things in their own religion, which made them doubt it and throw it

off. I know my countrymen will never be converted to these orthodox

views, though some of the missionaries are good men and work hard.

Their doctrines, which we do not find when we read the Bible ourselves,

stand badly in the way of their success. Intelligent Hindoos who throw

off their religion, generally become what are called here, “Infidels,”

or “Deists.” When a Hindoo gives up the superstitious practices of

my country, all the religion which he keeps is by clinging to, and

loving and trying to obey, some beautiful lessons of piety and morality

scattered over his sacred books, which are just like the best things

in the Old Testament. The orthodox missionary tells these Hindoos that

their sacred books are all “humbug.” The missionary is ignorant what is

in those books. At the same time he tells my countrymen that all the

Old Testament was written by God. My countrymen will never change their

religion for “orthodoxy.”

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.