their manners than any of the Hindoos. I have heard of a Koolin Brahmin,
who, after marrying sixty-five wives, carried off another man's wife, by
personating her husband. Many of the Koolins have a numerous posterity.
I select five examples, though they might easily be multiplied: Oodhoy
Chunder, a Brahmin, late of Bagnapara, had sixty-five wives, by whom he
had forty-one sons, and twenty-five daughters. Ramkinkur, a Brahmin,
late of Kooshda, had seventy-two wives, thirty-two sons, and
twenty-seven daughters. Vishnooram, a Brahmin, late of Gundulpara, had
sixty wives, twenty-five sons and fifteen daughters. Gouree Churn, a
Brahmin, late of Treebanee, had forty-five wives, thirty-two sons, and
sixteen daughters. Ramakant, a Brahmin, late of Bhoosdaranee, had
eighty-two wives, eighteen sons and twenty-six daughters; this man died
about the year 1810, at the age of 85 years or more, and was married,
for the last time, only three months before his death. Most of these
marriages are sought after by the relations of the female, to keep up
the honor of their families; and the children of these marriages
invariably remain with their mothers, and are maintained by the
relations of these females. In some cases, a Koolin father does not know
his own children."
Not only the rules of caste, but _poverty_ is also a great barrier to
the marriage of Koolin women, a fact which has been very feelingly
deplored in the following lines. Maidenly anxiety finds a natural vent
in them:--
"Out spake the bride's sister,
As she came frae the byre,
O! gin I were but married,
It's a' that I desire;
But we poor folk maun live single,
And do the best we can,
I dinna care what I should want
If I could but get a man.
Another, and O! what will come o' me!
And O! what will I do?
That sic a braw lassie as I
Should die for a wooer, I trow."
When Bullal Sen first introduced this obnoxious system, which went under
the euphonious title of the Order of Merit, he little anticipated that
the very small seed of mischief he then planted would soon grow into a
luxuriant tree, and produce an abundant crop of evils, poisoning the
very source of domestic felicity. It requires no depth of thought to
predict that the evil is destined to die a natural death, as all such
social evils are fated to do, when ignorance and superstition are driven
into their congenial darkness. Though many a Hindoo still lives in the
sin of polygamy without any particular repentance, yet the irresistible
progress of virtue, like that of truth, will ultimately teach him that
it is an unsafe foundation on which to build the sober structure of
domestic happiness.
The details of the following conversation between a husband, his old
mother, and his two wives, placed at the disposal of the writer by a
friend, may, he trusts, not be out of place:--
"What is this noise for," exclaims Radhamoney, a widow, (the name of the
mother) coming out of the _thacoor ghur_ in which she was worshipping;
"this noise, this tumult, this quarrel, this wringing of the hands,
these curses will surely drive away Luckhee from the house, it is
enough to make the devil fly; you have lost every sense of shame, _mago
ma_, your clamour has deafened my ears, where shall I go? one is apt to
leave her clothes behind. You have been served right; it was only the
other day that Grish, (name of the son) lost 5,000 Rupees in a case at
the Burra Adawlut (High Court.) If I be a _Sati_ (chaste woman), I say,
you two women (pointing to the two wives) will be beggared and reduced
to the condition of _harrees_ (those who carry night soil); in what
unlucky hour did these two women enter the house. You are both
_Rakhasees_ (female cannibals.) Day by day, sorrow is eating into the
vitals of my son, his golden body is being darkened every day; Oh!
_Bidhata_ (God) you have ordained this for me?" "Ullungo (name of the
maid-servant) what is the cause of this uproar?" asks the mother. "_Ma_,
what will I say," replies the maid-servant; "the cook _first_ gave the
_vath_, boiled rice to Comul," (name of the daughter of the first wife).
"Is this all? nothing more?" continues the mother; "my Bacha (child) has
had no food for seven days, being ill with fever. You all know this; the
_kobeeraj_ (physician) this morning has ordered some rice for her,
whereupon the second wife, all this while roaring and bawling, cursing
and swearing, stepped forward and said, it is past nine and my Hurree
(her son's name, 12 years old) has not yet got a morsel, his belly has
shrunk, and the school time is come; if late, his master will make him
stand." Radhamoney, the old mother, or _ghini_, sent for the cook, and
enquired if the rice were ready. "Yes, _ma_, Hurree Baboo came into the
cook room half an hour ago, and I asked him to take his meal; _chotta
ma_ (second wife) prevented him, because I _first_ gave the rice to
Comul who was so long ill." "Where is Hurree now?" enquired the old
lady. The maid-servant replied "_Chotta ma_ gave him a few pice and told
him to go to his school, though he could have eaten rice if he liked."
"Let Grish return home," added the old lady, "and I will tell him to
send me to Benares without delay; I am sick of your incessant broils;
for giving Comul rice _first_ you two _bous_ fell into a quarrel, and
cursed each other so fearfully that you, _burra bou_ (first wife), ate
the head of Hurree, and you, _chotta bou_ (second wife), ate the head of
Comul's husband."[108]
It was evening, and Grish, the son, returned home from office. Before he
had time to take off his office dress, the old mother, impatient to tell
him what had occurred during the day, and with tears in her eyes, thus
addressed him: "You, my son, have brought the greatest curse on yourself
by marrying two wives; to-day the whole family has been starving, and
why? because Comul, suffering from fever for the last eight days, had
got a little rice this morning, and she ate _first_; _chotta bou_,
therefore, prevented her son from eating anything, and sent the little
_bacha_ to the school without rice. From what _pajee_ (mean) families
have you brought these two females? I can no longer remain in the house.
Under the slightest pretext, like infamous wenches, they not only brawl
but curse each other and the son and son-in-law into the bargain. Can
Luckhee dwell in such a house? send me to Benares instantly, I can no
longer live in such a hell of a place. Your wives have made it a regular
hell." The son consoles the old mother, promising that everything would
be done according to her wish, begging her at the same time to eat
something, and adding that he does not mind whether his two wives eat or
not. After going through the evening service, he slept outside that
night, pondering what should be done for the future quiet of the family.
Next day he removed the first wife to her father's house, because the
second wife is always the _Zuburdust_, imagining that one hand can never
make a clap. But he was sadly mistaken, the deserted wife, continually
brooding over her misfortune, at length resolved to put an end to her
existence, and accordingly one night took an overdose of opium, and bade
a final adieu to the world.
The above story is founded on real life and should serve as a warning to
those who under the impulse of passion blindly run into a state of
polygamy, which is undoubtedly one of the greatest domestic evils among
the natives.
FOOTNOTES:
[108] Eating the head means wishing death. When two rival wives fall out
they literally become frantic through anger and jealousy. With shaking
hands and dishevelled locks they abuse and curse each other most
violently.
XIX.
HINDOO WIDOWS.
The system of early marriage, and the barbarous institution of
condemning a Hindoo female to a life of perpetual widowhood after the
death of her husband, are evils which cannot be too strongly deprecated.
In this country, owing to the prevalence of early marriage and the
manner in which it is consummated, a Hindoo does not become a
housekeeper immediately after his marriage. The wife generally remains
one or two years with her parents, occasionally going to her
father-in-law's house for a few days only; her husband pays her a visit
now and then, but not without the special invitation of his
mother-in-law. The object of such an invitation is evidently to make the
son-in-law behave well towards her daughter. For the attainment of this
object, as I have described before, no means is left untried. Indeed it
has become a proverb among the Hindoos that when a man fares
sumptuously, it is said, he has been fed with all the fondness shown to
a son-in-law. It has always struck me that if a Hindoo female were
permitted to re-marry after the death of her first husband, the
affection of a mother-in-law for a son-in-law would not have been so
warm as it now is under the existing state of things, which admits of no
alternative.
Living under the paternal roof for one or two years after her marriage,
a Hindoo girl sometimes becomes a widow,[109]--a state of life which is
unspeakably miserable. When a young female of ten or eleven years of age
loses her husband, with whom perhaps she had scarcely ever exchanged a
single word, she is quite unconscious of the unmitigated misery she is
fated to endure for the remainder of her long existence.[110] Deplorable
as such a condition undoubtedly is, it becomes doubly miserable from the
cold, uncongenial and unsympathetic atmosphere by which she is
surrounded, and the uncared-for neglect with which she is treated ever
afterwards. Except a mother, who can adequately conceive the thousand
and one miseries which are in store for the daughter? It is a gloomy
picture from the beginning to the end, and the gloom deepens as time
rolls over her devoted head. Cursed be the name of the lawgiver who has
made such a cruel ordinance, and cursed the society that has become a
thrall to it! Opposed to the feelings of humanity and natural affection,
the divine lawgiver of the Hindoos, Manu, expressly enjoins that
"although the state of widowhood might be deemed onerous by the fair sex
of the west, it would be considered little hardship in the east. Let her
emaciate her body, by living voluntarily on pure flowers, roots and
fruits, but let her not, when her lord is deceased, even pronounce the
name of another man. A virtuous wife ascends to heaven, if, after the
decease of her lord, she devote herself to pious austerity; but a
widow, who slights her deceased husband by _marrying again_, brings
disgrace on herself here below and shall be excluded from the seat
of her lord. Abstinence from the common pursuits of life, and
entire self-denial, are rewarded by high renown in this world, and in
the next the abode of her lord, and procure for her the title of
_sadhvi_ or the virtuous." From the above it is evident that widowhood
has prevailed in this country from time out of mind. Its mischievous
tendency is apparent in the degraded and corrupt state of female
society. We can never thoroughly conquer nature; we can never restrain
our passions so effectually as to render ourselves proof against
temptation. The frailty of women is admittedly great, and the ease with
which they may be seduced into the forbidden paths of life is too
well-known to need being enlarged on. However sedulously a Hindoo mother
may guard the virtue of her widowed daughter, and however forcibly she
may inculcate the doctrine of purity of life and manners, it proves but
a feeble barrier against the irresistible impulse of passion. Numerous
instances are on record, proving the utter futility of human efforts to
contend successfully against nature in this respect. A young widow may
be sent to the holy cities of Benares and Brindabun, where she is not
unfrequently removed with her mother or grandmother to spend the
remainder of her days in a state of isolated seclusion and religious
service, but this is a poor safeguard for the preservation of constancy
and virtue. Volumes after volumes have been written on the subject,
denouncing in an unmistakable manner the monstrous perversity of the
existing system, but the evil has taken such a deep root in the social
economy of the people that the utmost exertions must be put forth before
it can be wholly eradicated.
The evils of widowhood are not only confined to the endurance of
accumulated hardships, and self-denials enough to rend asunder the
tenderest chord of humanity, but they likewise extend to unlawful
connections, and the perpetration of another crime, that of abortion,
which is no less revolting in enormity than infanticide itself. Many
respectable families, which are otherwise esteemed for their meritorious
actions, have more or less sunk in honor from this indelible stigma; a
few have even lost their caste and status in society from the above
cause. In the primitive state of Hindoo society, when every female other
than a wife was regarded either as a mother or sister according to age,
irregular intercourse was almost unknown, but in these days of
libertinism perfect purity of life is rarely known. Our divine lawgiver,
in view to the interests of humanity and female honor, ought to have
made proper provision by lending his authority and sanction to a system
of widow remarriage within a reasonable period of life. Some such edict
would have been alike honorable to our venerable sage, and beneficial to
those who are morally and socially most deeply interested in it; but
unfortunately his cruel dicta, running counter to the fundamental
principles of virtue and morality, have necessarily engendered a rank
crop of evils, undermining the very foundation of human happiness.
The benevolent exertions of that high priest of Nature, Pundit Isswara
Chunder Vidyasagar, Baboo Keshub Chunder Sen, the Brahmo apostle, and
other Hindoo reformers, to promote the cause of widow marriage in
particular, and female emancipation in general, have not, it is sad to
contemplate, been attended with the measure of success they deserve,
simply because the state of Hindoo society is not yet ripe for the
innovation. I am, however, sanguine in my expectation that at no very
distant future the progress of enlightenment will ultimately bring about
the consummation so devoutly to be wished for. It is for the advanced
pioneers to endeavour to remove the incrustation which age and learning
have formed and tradition and custom enshrined with jealous and sedulous
care. Until this is done, a Hindoo widow must continue to mourn her lot
amidst the denunciations of a heartless world. Sighs will never cease
flowing from her heart so long as she finds herself deprived of the
master charm of life. She is now cast amongst the dregs and tatters of
humanity. Bereft of the _substance_ of what endears life to a female,
she is constrained to cleave to the _shadow_, which is destined to leave
her when she leaves the light of life. Losing all hope of worldly
enjoyments, she deposits the treasures of her heart in the sanctuary of
religion, convinced that to sell the world for the life to come is
profitable. It is terrible to contemplate the awful amount of physical
and mental suffering with all its varied complications, to which she is
doomed; her life is a steadfast battle against misery, her soul soars in
a vacuum where all is unreal, empty and hollow, and all the sweet
enjoyments of life fall flat on her taste. Her mental strife is never
over. She is like a weary swimmer who throws himself back and floats,
because he is too much exhausted to swim longer, yet will not sink and
let the cold and merciless water close over his head. Her spirit has
broken wildly loose from its normal attitude, and her mind is
overwhelmed in a surging tide of misery. From the day she loses her
husband, she has a new lease of life, and a miserable lease it must be.
She will not cease to lament until her soul itself shall die. If she
could say, joy was once her portion, it lighted on her as the bird rests
on the tree in passing and takes wing, yet she would now say, her
existence is so unlife-like that to her death is sweet. She is a poor
fallen outcast of humanity. No one can enter into her feelings and views
of things. She has no influence, no control over herself, she cannot
turn over a new leaf within her own mind. Though society is almost a
necessity of our existence, yet she lives wholly alone; a cheerless
train of thoughts always haunts her mind, she feels a dismal void in her
heart, she finds herself cut off at once and for ever from one most dear
to her, no conversation, however pleasant, can bring her consolation or
cheat her grief. The tide of settled melancholy threatens her reason. As
an outcast, she is religiously forbidden to take a part in any of the
social and domestic concerns of life, tending to relieve the ennui of a
wearisome existence, and to enliven the mind for a while. She is a
living example of an angel sent by heaven to minister to the comforts of
man, turned by a cruel institution into a curse. Estranged from the
affection of those who are, by the ties of consanguinity, nearest and
dearest to her, she passes her days like a recluse, quite apart from the
communion of society. She stares and gazes wildly at every festive
celebration, while, as the poet sings,
"The glad circle round them yield their souls
To festive mirth and wit that knows no gall."
If she have longings irrepressible and cravings insatiable to lend her
hand to any _shoova karma_ (meritorious work), her widowed condition
interposes an insurmountable barrier to her participation therein, as if
everything would be desecrated when touched by her polluted hand.
As a sentient being, endowed with all the finer susceptibilities of
human nature, is it possible that she should so far forget herself as
not to feel the bitterest pangs of despondency at her hopelessly forlorn
condition? Driven from the genial atmosphere of a social circle, she
drags a loathsome existence in this selfish and unsympathetic world.
Except she that gave her birth, who would deign to look upon her with
love and affection? Instead of being regarded, as she assuredly should
be, as the soul of simplicity, a living picture of sweet innocence, she
is shunned as one whose very presence portends evil. If she possess
unaffected modesty and a keen sense of honor and virtue, who is to
recognise and appreciate those amiable qualities in a society which is
preposterously estranged from all natural susceptibilities? If she have
riches what would that avail her, a poor misguided victim of
superstition![111] Her charity, instead of being founded on the catholic
principles of genuine liberality shewing a discriminate breadth of view,
too often exhibits an unhappy tenacity of adhesion to exclusiveness in
the performance of idolatrous ceremonies. If she is placed above the
atmosphere of artificialness, it is her misfortune to be surrounded by a
concatenation of conventional restrictions which render her life a
visible embodiment of helpless misery and anguish, and if she ever
appeals, she appeals to the Being who is the only friend of the hopeless
and the poor. To attempt to reconcile a widow to her forlorn lot is to
tell a patient burning with fever not to be thirsty. Her days are
dismal, her nights are dreary.
It was the dread of widowhood, and the unmitigated life-long miseries
inseparable from it, that led fifty wives at a time to ascend the
funeral pyre of a Rajpoot husband, with all the composure of a
philosophic mind. It redounds greatly to the credit of the British
Government that its generous exertions have not only struck the
death-knell of this inhuman practice, even in the remotest corner of the
Empire, but, what is more commendable, endeavoured "to heal the wounds
of a country bleeding at every pore from the fangs of superstition."
Not content with depriving her of the best enjoyments of life which
society affords, and the laws of God sanction, by condemning her to a
state of perpetual widowhood, the great lawgiver--the unflinching foe of
freedom in females--has further enjoined the strict observance of
certain practices that add gall to her already overflowing cup of
misery. As has been observed before, she is restricted to one scanty
meal a day, always of the coarsest description, devoid of fish[112]
which is generally more esteemed by an _ayistree_ lady than any other
article of food in her bill of fare. She must religiously fast on every
_ekadossee_, twice a month, and on all other popular religious
celebrations. She must bare her body of all sorts of ornaments, even the
_iron_ and the _gold_ bangles, which once constituted the _summum bonum_
of her life. As an appropriate substitute for the gold and pearl
necklaces, she is enjoined to wear a _toolsee mala_ (a basilwood
chaplet), and count a _toolsee_ wood bead roll for the final rest of her
soul. She is prohibited from wearing any bordered clothes, a _thayti_
being her proper garment; she is not permitted to daub her forehead with
_sidoor_, (vermillion), once the pride of her life when her lord was
alive; she is forbidden to use any bazar-made article of food, and to
complete the catalogue of restrictions she sometimes shaves her head
purposely that she may have an ugly appearance and thereby more
effectually repel the inroads of a wicked, seductive world.
If she have any children to nurture, the happy circumstance affords a
great relief to her wearisomely monotonous life. Day and night she
watches them with great care, and looks forward to their progressive
development with intense anxiety, forgetting in the plenitude of her
solicitude her own forlorn condition. Should there be any mishap in
their case, it causes an irreparable break-down in her spirit, which is
for ever "sicklied over with the pale cast of thought."
It is a painful fact that riches when not properly used have a tendency
to corrupt the minds of human beings, and lead them from the path of
virtue to that of vice. A wealthy widow who has the command of a long
purse more readily falls a prey to the temptations of the world than one
who, moving in an humbler sphere of life, has her mind almost wholly
engrossed with domestic cares, and the thoughts of a future state of
beatitude. "Verily," as Lord Lytton says, "in the domain of poverty
there is God's word."
Considering the endless round of hardship and self abnegations to which
she is inevitably doomed by a terrible stroke of fortune, "which scathes
and scorches her soul," it is cheering to reflect that she so often
shines brightest in adversity. Indeed she may be occasionally said "to
die ten times a day," but her incredible powers of patient endurance,
coupled with her high sense of female honor, are deserving of the
highest admiration.
FOOTNOTES:
[109] Such a widow is called a _Korayraur_, or one who has never enjoyed
the company of her husband. A stronger term of female reproach can
scarcely be found in the Hindoo vocabulary. From the day this terrible
bereavement occurs she is constrained by conventional rules, in such
cases, to put off from her hand the _iron bangle_, but owing to her
tender age she is tacitly permitted to continue to wear the gold bangle
and a bordered _Saree_ cloth. She is forbidden to use fish--her most
favorite dish,--and she must partially fast on every _ekadossee_, or
eleventh day of the increase or decrease of the moon. When she arrives
at the age of twenty her life presents an unvaried picture of despair
and wretchedness. She becomes a regular widow.
[110] It has been justly remarked, and I believe is in most cases borne
out by facts, that a Hindoo widow generally lives to a very long age.
Her simple and abstemious habits, her devotional spirit, her scanty meal
once a day, her total abstinence from food of any kind on the eleventh
day of the increase and decrease of the moon, besides other days of
close fast, neutralising in a great measure the effects of every kind of
irregularity from whatever cause arising, and the fearful amount of
hardships she is accustomed to endure, all contribute to prolong her
existence. Surely her life may be said to extend in the inverse ratio of
her misery. It is a common expression used by a Hindoo widow, shewing
her contempt of life, "will she ever die? _Yama_, Pluto, seems to have
forgotten her?" If the statistics of the land are consulted, it will
assuredly be found that Hindoo widows comparatively speaking enjoy a
longer life than the adult male population, because the latter is
subject to irregularities and other adverse contingencies of life which
the former is almost entirely free from. It is not uncommon to see a
Hindoo widow of eighty, ninety or a hundred years of age. In short,
nature evidently seems to have exemplified in her the symbol of misery
associated with longevity.
It is also a remarkable fact that idolatry and superstition chiefly owe
their continued influence to the wide-spread ignorance of these female
devotees. At a religious festival, nearly three-fourths of the assembly
are composed of widows.
[111] The worship of _Juggodhatri_ (mother of the world), is performed
by a widow for four years successively to forfend the calamity in the
next birth.