We have frequently had occasion to observe that travellers differ
widely from each other, even as to such matters of fact as must
have come under the cognisance of their senses. The late Mr Rae
Wilson, for instance, who observed personally the falls of the
Narova, gives the measurement of the descent of water at something so
comparatively enormous, as to prove that he had unconsciously blended
in his imagination the whole of the rapids into one cataract; and we
ourselves, when gazing upon those troubled waters from the wooden
bridge that spans them, looked with such surprise upon the 'Yarrow
Visited,' as must, we fear, have coloured, in an opposite way from Mr
Wilson's, our impressions, and consequently our report. If travellers
who desire, both from interest and inclination, to be impartial differ
so widely in matters of fact, what shall be said of matters of opinion?
A compiler is frequently taunted with presuming to write critically of
countries he has never visited in person; but if he will only take the
pains to collect, and sift, and compare the jarring and often opposite
accounts of residents and travellers, we have a strong suspicion that
he will be found better qualified for his business than any of them!
India has always been _the_ Debateable Land of authors, both as to fact
and opinion. The books published upon that country contain the most
outrageous mass of contradictions extant; and each successive writer
gives the lie, without the smallest ceremony, to those who preceded
him. This cannot be wholly owing to our ignorance of the country and
the people. The Hon. Robert Lindsay was shut up with the natives almost
exclusively for twelve years; and he represents them as being so
honest, that he could intrust three or four thousand pounds' worth of
his property to a menial servant, wandering to the farthest extremity
of the country, and absent for twelve months at a time. Colonel
Davidson resided for many years, and travelled much in India; and he
turns the reverse of the medal, representing the native inhabitants as
thieves and vagabonds to a man. We must go further, therefore, than
the mere question of knowledge; for these two witnesses (whom we take
as the types of two numerous classes) are men of both knowledge and
honour. We must seek for an explanation of the mystery in the depths of
the human character.
The colour of an object, although really one of its inherent
properties, is always modified by the medium through which it is seen;
and nothing but care and reflection, or at least lengthened experience,
will enable us to correct the error, and trace the actual through
the apparent hue. In the same way, the qualities of a people in one
stage of civilisation cannot be judged of intuitively by a people in
another stage, because they are viewed through an uncongenial medium.
The Indians can no more be comprehended at once by Europeans, than
Europeans can be comprehended at once by the Indians. Much care will be
required to enable the two to arrive even at an approximation to a true
understanding of each other. Virtue and vice are not the substantive
and unbending terms we commonly imagine them to be. They receive a new
meaning, or a new force, in every new form of civilisation; the _lex
talionis_ of the ancient Jews, for instance, was abrogated by the more
advanced law of Christianity; and we meet with a hundred things in
history--
'Things light or lovely in their acted time'--
which, in the present day, would be considered indications of positive
depravity. Few of the heroes of the middle ages would escape hanging or
the hulks in the nineteenth century, and fewer still of the heroines
would be received in a modern drawing-room!
To form a correct estimate of the Indians, we must compare them with
other Asiatic nations, and not with the inhabitants of Europe, where
the human character received a new and extraordinary development
through the collision of different and distant races of mankind.
According to the former standard, the Indians are much in advance,
which can only be accounted for by the vast extent of their country,
and the fluctuating movements of its population, interrupting in some
degree what is called the 'permanent' form of civilisation peculiar
to Asia. To estimate their moral and social prospects, however, and
the moral and social prospects of the Eastern world in general, we
must compare them with our own ancestors of a few centuries ago, among
whom we shall find quite as much grossness of taste, obtuseness of
feeling, tyranny, dishonesty, antagonism of classes, and puerile and
debasing superstition. The conflicting views of the Indian character
arise simply from the opposite idiosyncrasies of the observers.
Colonel Davidson finds theft common, and stigmatises the people with
the English name of thieves; while Mr Lindsay, marvelling at the
singular fidelity of his servants, ascribes to them the English virtue
of honesty. Both are deceived; for these two apparently opposite
qualities may, and do, meet in the same individuals, and are therefore
not of the nature of the English qualities of the same name. If we
encountered such passages in history, we should comprehend the seeming
anomaly, and at once refer it to a particular stage of civilisation;
but falling in with them in the course of our personal experience, and
suffering from the bad, or deriving advantage from the good quality,
we take no care to discriminate, but give praise or blame according
to the religious and moral dispensation we live under in Europe. The
tendency of this want of discrimination is adverse to Indian progress.
The people are at this moment undergoing, but more slowly, the change
which revolutionised the West; although this time Mohammed goes to
the mountain, since the mountain does not come to Mohammed. Europe
flings itself upon Asia, and Western knowledge ferments in the inert
mass of Eastern ignorance. We are numerically few, however, though
intellectually powerful; and it is of the utmost consequence that
we should comprehend clearly what we are about, so that our efforts
towards the advancement of those we have taken forcibly under our
tutelage should proceed in the right direction.
We have been led into these reflections by a very slight matter--a
little book, as coarse, vulgar, and tasteless as can well be
imagined; which professes to be the revelations of an orderly, or
police subordinate, attached to an Anglo-Indian provincial court.[1]
According to this authority, all India would appear to be one bloated
mass of crime and tumult, and the calm and beautiful pictures of such
writers as Sleeman would therefore require to be set down as impudent
fabrications. But we do not look for an account of English manners
in the Newgate Calendar; and the native scribe who in this little
book withdraws the curtain from the mysteries of Indian police may be
thanked for his contribution, partial as it is, to our knowledge of the
country. In fact it is impossible to talk with too much reprobation of
the police system of India. In venality and oppression it was never
surpassed even by the most corrupt nations either of the East or
the West, either in ancient or modern times. The reason is, that an
effective police must be spread like a network over the whole country,
and the Europeans are far too few for reasonable superintendence.
Old abuses thus remain unchecked, and vast multitudes of hereditary
scoundrels combine to cheat their superiors and oppress the people. The
police, in fact, are the objects of universal dread; and numberless
crimes escape unpunished, and even unexposed, because their victims
will rather suffer than invoke such fatal assistance.
At present, however, our business is more with the criminal than
the policeman; and the rough pictures of our Orderly show that the
peculiarity of Indian crime is its resemblance to the crime of old
and modern Europe at the same time. We see in it, under Indian
characteristics, the offences of mediæval Europe, extravagantly
combined with those of our own day. The priestly transgressors of the
dark ages are reproduced in the Pundahs and Poojarees of Benares; and
the English swindler who takes a handsome house, and victimises the
neighbouring tradesmen, has an Indian brother in the _soi-disant_
rajah, who confers his patronage as a prodigious favour.
The priests, it seems, perpetrate all sorts of crimes with perfect
impunity. 'Many a dark deed has been done, and is done, in the
extensive houses of these Pundahs and Poojarees. While the gong is
loudly sounding, and scores of athletic priests are blowing _sunkhs_[2]
in the numerous temples that are dotted about and around the houses,
the last expiring shriek of some victim is perhaps suppressed by the
noise. Disobedient _chelas_,[3] victims of jealousy and crime, die by
slow torture, or poison, or famine. No intimation is, or can be, given
to the police, for none but the initiated and privileged may enter
these houses, sanctified by the numerous temples. And who but the most
devoted and trustworthy are ever permitted to see the dark places
where crime is committed? It is believed generally--but I speak not
from experience (for being of the faith of Islam, I am not permitted
to approach such places)--that in the innermost recesses of several
temples is a shrine devoted to "Devee," or "Bhowanee;" those infernal
deities whose delight is in blood, where children of tender age are
enticed, and offered up on certain occasions. Frequent are the reports
made to the police that children are missing; the informants suspect
nobody, and no trace of the innocents is ever found.'
Another pest are the _dullals_ (brokers), who haunt the markets, and
levy a handsome per-centage on everything that is bought and sold. 'Go
into the _chouk_,[4] and attempt to purchase the most trivial article:
take up a pair of shoes, or a shawl, and you will find a _dullal_ at
your elbow. The man praises one thing, abuses another, beats down the
price of the vender authoritatively; and you are surprised that such
disinterested officiousness should be shown to a stranger in a crowded
chouk. The man civilly offers to take you whithersoever you please,
and to assist you in purchasing whatever you may require. You return
home, wondering what was the man's inducement to waste his own time in
chaffering for you. I lift the curtain to show you that the venders
and your _chaperone_ are in league; that your complaisant friend is a
dullal, who takes very good care to lower the vender's price only so
much as to admit of his coming in for a handsome _dusturee_.[5] The
difference between the bazaar price and the amount price of the article
sold is the _huq_[6] of the dullal. You will ask whether the vender
may not himself pocket the whole of the money? I answer that he dare
not. The whole of the dullals would cabal against him; would cry down
his wares; would thrash him within an inch of his life; would by force
prevent purchasers from attending his shop. Can such things be? you
ask. Can the authorities submit tamely to such outrages? Why do not the
parties who are cheated or bullied complain to the magistrate? They
have tried the experiment; and although in a few instances successful,
they have generally failed in obtaining redress from want of judicial
proof. Moral conviction is one thing, and judicial proof another. And
were a magistrate to punish on moral conviction alone, his judgment
would in all probability be reversed by the judge in appeal; who,
having to form his judgment by the written evidence, must be guided by
judicial proof alone.'
The _Budmashes_ practise a trick that is not unknown in England,
although known there chiefly under the modification of bills of
Exchange obtained from the unwary by means of advertisements in the
newspapers. 'Another common trick of the Budmashes is to entice
people of decent condition into their private houses with seductive
solicitations; and after amusing them, to keep them there until they
put their names to papers, just by way of showing specimens of their
autographs. They have documents ready cut and dry on stamp papers of
different value, duly witnessed by people who are in their pay, or
who participate in their frauds, to be converted into penal bonds for
value received. Months afterwards the unfortunate visitor is accosted
in any public place, in the presence of numerous witnesses, and asked
for the amount of his (extorted) bond. Of course the debt is denied,
and the demander is cursed only for his pains. But the Budmash calls
people to witness that he did ask his debtor to pay the amount of his
bond, which he refused to discharge. An action for debt is instituted.
The Budmash produces the bond before the _Moonsiff_. The witnesses are
summoned, and are merely asked, "Did you witness this _tumassook_?" "I
did, your worship," is the reply: "this is my signature." The witnesses
before whom the Budmash demanded the amount of the bond also confirm
the plaintiff's allegation. The defendant can only deny the claim,
and submit that the bond was extorted. "Where is the proof?" says the
Moonsiff. "I have none," is the reply. And a decree is given in favour
of plaintiff with costs. It is only when "Greek meets Greek" that the
result is different. Then the defendant acknowledges the deed, but
alleges that he has paid the amount with interest; and files a receipt
for the amount of the bond, with interest at twelve per cent., duly
attested by three "credible" witnesses, who appear before the _huzoor_,
and swear to their signatures, as well as to having seen the money
repaid to the plaintiff.'
We come now to the swindling rajah, whose proceedings are almost
amusing in their rascality. 'A common mode of swindling in the city of
Kashee, as practised by the clever Budmashes, is for one of the party
to personate a rajah on a visit of ceremony to the holy city, while
his companions pretend to precede him, and hire a stately _huvelee_
in Dal-ka-Munduvee, which they furnish for the nonce. Bulbhuddur
Singh sits in state as Rajah Guchpuch Rae, bedecked in false gems,
and dressed in shawls and _kimkhabs_.[7] His retainers go about the
city, and entice shawl-merchants and jewellers to the rajah's house.
They arrive with costly wares, and eagerly proceed to expose them;
but the rajah turns an indifferent eye upon them, and declares they
are not sufficiently choice for _him_. The _Soudagurs_[8] promise to
return next day. In the meantime the song and dance proceed with fierce
rivalry. Six sets of the best dancing-women exert their lungs and
limbs, and go through every fascinating movement to delight and amuse
Rajah Guchpuch Rae. "Where is my treasurer?" exclaims the rajah. "Bid
him bestow a largess of 100 _ushurfees_[9] on these soul-enslaving,
terrestrial houries." A retainer, after going through the farce of a
search, respectfully approaches his highness, and intimates that the
treasurer has not yet arrived. "The _nimukharam!_ _behaeyah!_"[10]
exclaims the rajah. "Here, fellows, see that a proper treasurer be in
attendance on the morrow, to whom we shall deliver our treasure and
_toshehkhanah_."[11] The rajah enjoys himself until no longer able
to sustain excitement; and then the _Gundrupins_[12] retire, and the
torches are extinguished.
'Next day there are several candidates for the honour of the
treasurer's office, who eagerly offer to serve. "The salary is 200
rupees a month," says the rajah; "and I hate accounts. Constant
attendance and implicit obedience are all I require." After rejecting
some, his highness fixes upon Lalla Umbeka Sahaee, who receives a
well-worn shawl as a _khillut_,[13] and an immense key. He ventures
to ask where the treasury is? and is told to wait until the _huzrut_
has leisure to show it to him. In the meantime the rajah suddenly
recollects that he has an immediate occasion for 1000 rupees, and he
shouts out, "Here, Bahadoor, take one thousand rupees from Lalla Umbeka
Sahaee, and give it to Bisheshur Singh, and be sure to take a receipt
for the money. Tell him it is the price of a ring I bought of him for
my favourite Goolbehar." Bahadoor asks the treasurer for the money. The
poor man looks aghast, and shows a huge key as all he has received of
the rajah's treasure. But Bahadoor tells him that Rajah Guchpuch Rae
never fails to cut off the ears of a disobedient servant. So the hint
is taken, and Lalla gives an order on his _shroff_ in the city for the
amount; and Bahadoor at once proceeds to realise the money. As evening
approaches, shawl-merchants and jewellers again appear, and press their
wares on the rajah. They see Lalla Umbeka Sahaee figuring as treasurer.
They are old acquaintance, and they ask him the amount of Guchpuch
Rae's treasure; in reply to which he simply shows _the_ key, about a
foot in length. The merchants open out their wares to entice the rajah,
but he says he will wait until all his things arrive. They offer to
leave their bundles for the rajah and his ladies to choose, which is
agreed to with apparent indifference. The song and dance proceed, as
usual, until midnight, when the torches are extinguished.
'Next morning, what a change has taken place! One old man is seated
at the doorway, dozing over a _chillum_ of _ganjah_. No other sign of
life is visible in Rajah Guchpuch Rae's palace. The treasurer arrives
first, opens and rubs his eyes, and asks the old man where the rajah
and his people have gone? He replies that they decamped before dawn.
In due course the Muhajuns, the jewellers, and birds of song arrive,
but nothing of the rajah is to be found; and smoke-stained walls, and
filth, and litter about the rooms, alone betray that revelry _had been_
there! The jewellers and Muhajuns turn in wrath upon Lalla Umbeka
Sahaee, and tax him with having aided to cheat them. They proceed
first to abuse, and then to beat him. In vain the poor man shows the
huge key, and laments his thousand rupees lost for ever. They drag
him to the _kotwal_, and charge him with having cheated them; and the
defrauded treasurer remains in durance vile for a week at least, and
gets off at last on proving himself to be one of the victims of this
system of swindling, and after feeing the police myrmidons pretty
roundly.'
Here we close, without further remark, a book from which the reader
will learn that the crimes of India are not remarkably different from
those of earlier England, although fostered by the worst police system
that ever disgraced and demoralised a country.