ORIENTAL NUPTIALS
_A Hindoo Marriage_
TO Hindoo women, marriage is of even more importance than it is to women
in general. Indeed, I know no race to whose women it is more important;
for marriage is the sum total of a Hindoo woman’s existence. She has no
interests beyond her home, no possibility of outside compensation if her
marriage is a failure.
Even conventional, conservative India is beginning to throb with
nineteenth century restlessness and Occidental changeableness. There is
a great deal to be said on both sides of the burning question of
child-marriages. I propose to say none of it, but to confine myself to a
description of a Hindoo marriage that I witnessed at
Jubblepore,—confine myself without commenting upon the race theories of
which it was a ceremonial expression.
Children are still married very young in India. But the custom is not
clung to, save by the ultra orthodox Hindoos. I have known three sisters
to be married in one month, in a high-caste family. The eldest was
sixteen, the youngest was eight. A Hindoo girl is in the full bloom of
womanhood at sixteen.
The marriage I saw was between Brahmins of a strict caste; and I believe
that the only unorthodox detail was my presence. I went in the early
morning to the bride’s house. She was a slender, pretty girl of twelve.
The bridegroom (who had not yet arrived) was an intelligent fellow—five
years her senior. Twelve and seventeen years of age mean very much more
in the East than in the West.
This marriage happened to be a love match. I should think that that is
now true of nearly half the Hindoo marriages. The children of the caste
play freely together, and their baby likes and dislikes develop with
their quick development. Family love is very strong among the Hindoos.
And the children have rather large influence with their parents. Hindoo
girls are, I believe, rarely reluctant to marry. Indeed, they reminded
me of a line of Byron’s. They seemed more in love with the prospect of
marriage than with any particular prospective husband. It was my
observation—which was, I must say, not exhaustive—that few Hindoo
marriages are unhappy. The same has been claimed, I understand, by some
partial writers, for _les mariages de convenance_ of France.
The first duty of Hindoo bride and bridegroom, on the Chief Day or
wedding day, is ceremonious ablutions. It was after that duty had been
fulfilled that I arrived at the bride’s home. For many days ceremonies
dear to the Oriental heart had been taking place. But they were
fashionable rather than religious. They were self-granted indulgences of
a ceremony-loving race, and in no way augmented the validity of the
marriage, which was secured entirely by the ceremonies and the oaths of
the wedding day, prescribed by the Shástras.
It was some time after my humble entrance that the splendid arrival of
the bridegroom occurred. He came on horseback, as a Hindoo bridegroom
should, and he was surrounded by all his relatives and friends, which
was the acme of Hindoo good form. By the bye,—a high-caste Hindoo is as
polite as a Japanese. Courtesy is as much the religion of a Brahmin as
of a Japanese. But Hindoo courtesy is less celebrated than Japanese
courtesy because it is less graceful (though not less picturesque), and
because it is not, as it is in Japan, common to high and low. Politeness
is the sign of a Hindoo gentleman. It is the birth mark of every
Japanese—from the Mikado to the humblest coolie.
I do not know which was the more gorgeous—the Hindoo bridegroom or the
dark roan horse he rode. Certainly, the bridegroom looked the more
important. The steed seemed bored, which showed a most ungrateful
spirit, for never yet was horse more sumptuously caparisoned. Beneath
his shaggy, unkempt mane he wore a red strung necklace of glittering
jewelled talismans; about his neck was a triple row of native gems, and
similar jewelled braids marked his face into wonderful parallelograms;
upon his head was proudly placed an inverted feather duster, such as
European ladies use for treasured bits of bric-a-brac, which the
parlour-maid may not touch. The decoration of the unappreciative
animal’s tail was gorgeous and unique. The saddle-cloths were beautiful
in detail, if not in shape; they were exquisite specimens of old,
orthodox Hindoo embroidery. Hindoo customs are changing very gradually;
Hindoo art is unchanged and unchangeable. It has developed; it has not
been modified. The saddle-cloths were stiff, broad ovals, heavy with
pearl-specked, gold embroidery; they were edged with red, silken fringe.
Above the saddle-cloth rose a golden, swan-shaped saddle. Enthroned upon
it sat the bridegroom. Over his head a servant held a wonderful red and
yellow umbrella; two fan men followed close, holding the quaintest fans
I ever saw; the sticks were of carved silver, and the fans, shaped like
antique spear-heads, were made of odd painted glass, deftly embroidered
here and there with jewels, and edged, as was the fan and all of the
horse’s caparisons, with elaborate fringe. The four servants were
dressed as Hindoo servants should be, in Hindoo livery. The bridegroom
wore wonderful brocaded clothes; his eyes were thickly ringed with khol;
his lips were flaring red with betel-nut; his velvet cap was heavy with
embroidery; his jewelry was abundant and glaring. In brief, it was in
all ways a most correct Hindoo marriage procession. His people followed
him with beaming faces, carefully arranged costumes, and foreheads
smeared with the paint and ash-marks of high-caste Brahminism.
We clustered about the door to bid him welcome—the bride’s mother in
front, and the closely veiled red-clad bride next. The mother received
with many ceremonies the dismounting bridegroom. The bride ran shyly
forward and pinched his foot. That was in warning that he might find
married life full of vexations. But he smiled with proud superiority as
he salaamed elaborately to his girl-bride.
We followed him into the house. The bride’s father, crying out to the
gods that he would honour and receive well this Snátaka who had come to
ask a maiden’s hand, offered the young man a seat—offered it with many
words of welcome and compliment. The bridegroom sat down, after calling
the elder Brahmins everything that is honourable, superior, and
admirable. Then they performed the peculiar worship of the “blessed and
kind waters,” the girl’s father providing all the _impedimenta_ of the
ceremony. The elder man offered the younger a tray of sweets, called
_madhuparka_. The bridegroom called upon the gods to partake of his
noble father-in-law’s bounty. The gods did not do so—that I could
perceive; but no one seemed disconcerted, and the bridegroom ate a
little himself. The host called to a servant to bring a cow. The
bridegroom protested that the cow was an innocent and useful animal, and
entreated that its life might be spared. The elder Brahmin conceded
this; which ended the welcoming ceremony, which is called _madhuparka_,
after the sweet which is given to the bridegroom. Many years ago it was
customary, at a Hindoo wedding, to sacrifice a cow and distribute the
fresh beef.
Then came the _Kanyá-dána_ ceremony; the giving of the bride by her
father to the bridegroom. The bride and bridegroom sat together, facing
the east. Near them, but facing the north, sat her parents. The father
“worshipped” the young couple; and all the guests called upon the gods
for a thick shower of blessings. The priests handed the father sacred
grass and water, and then they prayed with him, in Sanskrit. Then the
old Brahmin rose up, and placing the girl’s hand in her lover’s, but
with a blade of grass between them, said solemnly to the bridegroom,
“She is no longer mine; she is thine.” The bride’s mother pronounced
glad consent. Then the young Brahmin, holding his wife tightly by the
hand, and looking at her, but speaking to the gods, said, “I entreat
you, oh my gods, to bless and prosper the gracious man and wife who have
given me this most sweet gift.” A priest drew from between the clasped
hands the blade of grass. The marriage was irrevocable. They were man
and wife for ever.
Then the proud young husband, looking very manly and handsome, said to
his bride, clearly and earnestly, words that I thought very sweet,
although they were partly prescribed. “Moved by the gods, the great god
Varuna has given you to me, oh my dear, that I may know ambrosial
happiness. Your father in giving you to me has given me his very life.
You are my life of life.” He laid his slim brown hand upon her veiled
right shoulder. “It is Love that gave this, Love that received it. O
Love! all this is thine. My bride, enter thou the Ocean of Love; I
accept thee out of Love. Thou art rain; the heavens give thee, the earth
receives thee.” Are not those beautiful words? They are prescribed,
truly; but so are the words of our marriage service.
Then came the _Kautukágára_ ceremony—the prettiest part of the
marriage. I was allowed to see it, as a great concession. The young
husband and wife went, with a priest and a number of Hindoo maidens,
into an inner room. This room is strangely painted, and is called
_Kautukágára_. The bride tied a love-knot on her husband’s wrist, and he
did the same to her; then he drew the veil from her dimpled brown face
and kissed her; then he replaced the veil with a soft silken sari, that
he had brought as a gift to his bride, but the little glowing face was
left uncovered. The priest took a bit of red string and tied together
the garments of husband and wife, and placed a crown of tinsel, of gold,
silver, and jewels upon her head. A prayer was made by the bridegroom—a
prayer that their hearts might grow into each other; and while he
prayed, he painted, with collyrium, his bride’s eyes, and she painted
his. Then he gave her some droll presents, which he produced from a
mysterious somewhere among his own garments. I noticed a porcupine-quill
and a looking-glass. Then he tied about her neck the marriage string. It
is an odd necklace—a cord upon which a strange melée of trinkets are
hung. It is called the tali. It is worn by all married Hindoo women. It
is almost if not the only thing that I have never known a Hindoo woman
to pawn. The tying of the tali ended the _Kautukágára_ ceremony. We
returned to the other room.
The _Viváha-hôma_ or marriage sacrifice began. The young couple sat upon
a primitive, flower-decked altar. Then the priests poured ghee-libations
to the invisible gods. Then the bride’s father anointed her head heavily
with ghee, saying, “Become thou the sovereign ruler over thy
father-in-law, over thy mother-in-law, over thy sister-in-law, and over
thy brothers-in-law”—a very liberal invocation; but I thought I
observed that, in the majority of high-caste Hindoo families, it was
most frequently fulfilled. Hindoo women are very potent members of
Hindoo society, and in home life they are often supreme. I know many
Hindoo men who are extremely devoted to their wives, and consider them
before all others.
The young husband was rash enough to confirm his father-in-law’s large
prophecy, and added to the bride, “I take thy hand that thou mayest live
with me as thy husband, for a long time; the gods Bhaga, Aryamá, Savitá,
and Purandhi have given thee to me that I may be a householder. Soma
gave thee to Gandharva, Gandharva gave thee to Agni, and Agni gave thee
to me with wealth and sons. As in the word _Sâma_ the syllables _Sâ_ and
_ama_ are mutually connected and interdependent, so are we; I am _ama_,
thou art _Sâ_. I am the heavens, thou art the earth. As a _Sâ_ma verse
is related to Rik of which it is composed, so am I to thee; then
shouldst thou follow me. Like these pairs, let us marry, produce
progeny, obtain sons; may they be many and may they live long.”
Then they performed the ceremonies of _As’ma’rohana_ and _Mangal Fe’rà_.
Near the altar burned a sacred fire. About it lay a circle of stones.
The bridegroom caught his wife’s hand and said, “Come lady! place thy
foot on this stone, and be as firm as it is. Resist whatever is evil.”
He stooped down and placed her right foot upon the stone. Together, but
he preceding her, they went round the fire, treading carefully upon the
stones. Back to their seats they went. The bride gave an oblation to the
fire, her husband saying, “This woman prays that she may be pleasing and
helpful to her relatives, and that her husband may live long.” The
little bride was looking very important, but oh! so tired. Four times
they went round that flaming fire. Four times she gave an oblation, and
he repeated his little speech.
Then they performed a ceremony which, when it was explained fully to me,
I thought very significant. It was called _Saptapadi_, or “taking seven
steps.” Seven heaps of rice were laid upon the floor, near each other,
slanting toward the north-east. Again the bridegroom took his wife’s
little brown hand. She put her foot upon the first heap as he said,
“Take the first step and become the partner of my drinks.” On they went,
she stepping on each little rice heap, he saying, “Take the second step
and become the partner of my food.” “Take the third step and become the
partner of my wealth and prosperity.” “Take the fourth step and become
the partner of my good health.” “Take the fifth step and become the
partner of my cattle.” “Take the sixth step and become my companion in
all the seasons.” “Take the seventh step and become my friend.”
That ended the serious part of the long complicated ceremony. The newly
married twain fed each other solemnly from a bowl of sugar; and then
grave ceremonial gave way to mirth and noise. Presents were made to the
priests. A feast was served; and an excellent feast it was. They gave me
some, but I had to eat it apart; with them I might not sit, nor
eat,—even the courtesy of a high-caste Brahmin failed before such a
desecration of caste purity. All night long trumpets blared, shrill
native fifes shrieked, drums and wild songs rent the air, and great
fires flared up to heaven, making the big clumps of slender bamboos look
red.
I fear I have been tedious; I hope I have been clear. A Hindoo marriage
is an intricate performance. I have not described it entirely. The
religious ceremonies were supplemented by many others that were customs,
not observances of faith.
The vows of a Hindoo marriage are most beautiful. Unfortunately they are
repeated in Sanskrit, and the bridal pair rarely, if ever, know
Sanskrit. Let us hope that they know the meaning of the words they utter
parrot-like. Certainly young children are as ignorant of the sense as of
the language. I have seen a Hindoo bridegroom of five—a sweetly pretty
boy he was.
But the ritual of the Hindoo marriage ceremony, whether it means much or
little to the celebrants, can, at least, show us what the great founders
of mighty Hindooism meant Hindoo marriage to be. And it behoves us to
understand the spirit, the essence, of Hindoo life before we alter it by
the right of might—I mean the might of right. Moreover it behoves us to
know how Hindoo usages work. Child-marriage is revolting; but I have
heard Hindoos make one or two tiny points in its favour. I saw something
of Hindoo home-life, and I thought that it was, as a rule, devoted and
happy; I know more than one eminent Hindoo to-day who is beautifully
under his wife’s little brown, be-ringed thumb.
The Hindoo women cling to their racial customs far more pertinaciously
than do the men. I knew several delightful Hindoo women; they despised
me, but they were very kind and courteous, and I admired them
exceedingly. One of them was a woman of great intellectual strength and
commensurate culture. One day she said to me, “What is this ‘woman’s
rights,’ of which so much you talk?” I disclaimed any share in the
epidemic that had attacked so many of my sisters, and then I explained
to her the movement as eloquently as I could, and as justly as a woman
was able to do who despised that of which she spoke.
“I see,” she said, turning her great, languid eyes on mine; “they would
have us renounce an immense, veiled, real power, for a little apparent
power; they would make us lose our power over men, to have, of
ourselves, and our lives, the little control that men do have of
themselves and of their lives. In Europe, women who are not strong,
think too much, talk too much. The big thought in the little brain will
not go, only one part of it. And the sound of their own voices it makes
them mad.”
Nothing so surprised me in the East as did the upper class Hindoo
women—their content, their position, and their enormous influence. The
men of Ind are comparatively easily converted to our social _modus
operandi_. We underrate the strong opposition we will encounter from the
Hindoo women.