days. On the morning of the fourth day she is enjoined to cut her nails,
and perform the funeral ceremony of a departed father or mother. An
entertainment is to be given to the Brahmins and friends. This is always
done on a comparatively small scale, and in most cases the husband is
made to bear all the expenses of the ceremony and the entertainment.
[119] Apart from erroneous popular notions, which in this age of
depravity are corrupted by vanity, the Hindoo Shastra, be it mentioned
to its credit, abounds in explicit injunctions on the subject of a
funeral ceremony in various ways according to the peculiar circumstances
of parties. From an expenditure of lacks and lacks of Rupees to a mere
trifle, it can be performed with the ultimate prospect of equal merit.
It is stated in the holy Shastra that the god Ramchundra considered
himself purified (for a Hindoo under mourning is held unclean until the
funeral ceremony is performed) by offering to the manes of his ancestors
simple balls of sand, called _pindas_, on the bank of the holy stream.
In these days a poor man would be held sanctified or absolved from this
religious responsibility by making a _tilakanchan Shrad_, or offering a
small quantity of rice, _teelseed_ and a few fruits, and feeding only
one Brahmin, all which would not cost more than four Rupees.
[120] At the Shrad of Raja Nubkissen, Nemy Churn Mullick and Ramdoolal
Dey, very near 100,000 beggars were said to have assembled together;
this mode of charity is much discountenanced now and better systems are
adopted for the ostensible gratification of generous propensities. The
District Charitable Society should have a preference in every case.
Instead of making a great noise by sound of trumpet and raising an
ephemeral name from vainglorious motives, it is far wiser that a
permanent provision should be made for the relief of suffering humanity.
[121] The appearance of Brahmins on such occasions has the ludicrous
admixture of the learned and the ragged, exhibiting the insolence of
high caste and the low cringe of poverty.
[122] The Hindoos are so much accustomed to smoking that it has almost
become a necessary of life. At a reception it is the first thing
required. The practice is regulated by rules of etiquette, so that a
younger brother is not permitted to smoke in the presence of his elder
brother or his uncle. Even among the reformed Hindoos, I have seen two
brothers eat and drink together at the same table in European style, but
when the dinner is over the younger brother would on no account smoke in
the presence of his elder brother, if he do, he would be instantly voted
a _bayadub_, or one wanting in the rules of good breeding. The
observance of this etiquette, however, is confined only to the high
caste people; among the lower orders, a son smokes before a father with
the same freedom as if he were taking his ordinary meal.
[123] The following anecdote illustrating the very great honor shewn to
first-class Koolins, will, I trust, not be considered out of place.
When the late Rajah Rajkissen Bahadoor of Calcutta had to perform the
_Shrad_ or funeral ceremony of his illustrious father, the late Moha
Rajah Nubkissen (the ceremony was said to have cost about five lacks of
Rupees or L50,000,) he had to invite almost all the celebrated Koolins
of Bengal at considerable expense. On the day of the _Shrad_ those who
were invited assembled at his mansion in Sobha Bazar, when all eyes were
dazzled at the unparalleled magnificence of the scene, displaying a
gorgeous array of gold, silver and brass utensils for presents to
Brahmins, exclusive of large sums of money, Cashmere shawls, broadcloth,
&c. After the performance of the ceremony, as is usual on such
occasions, the distribution of garlands and sandal paste had to be gone
through; the whole of the splendid assemblage had been watching with
intense anxiety as to who should get the _first_ garland--the highest
respect shewn, according to precedence of rank, to the _first_ Koolin
present. This is a very knotty point in a large assemblage to which all
orders of Koolins had been brought together. The honor was eagerly
contested and coveted by many, but at length a voice from a corner
loudly proclaimed to the following effect: "Put the garland on my
_gode_," (elephantiasis) laying bare and stretching his right leg at the
same time and thus suiting the action to his words. The attention of the
assembled multitude was immediately directed in that direction, and to
the amazement of all, the garland had to be put round the neck of the
very man who shouted from a corner, because by a general consensus he
was pronounced to be the _first_ Koolin then present. But such
artificial and demoralising distinctions, built on the baseless fabric
of quicksand, having no foundation in solid, sterling merit, are fast
falling, as they should, into disrepute.
[124] Manu commands, "Should the king be near his end, through some
incurable disease, he must bestow on the priests all his riches
accumulated from legal fines."
[125] To preserve order and avoid such unseemly practices, a wealthy
Baboo--the late Doorgaram Cor--when he invited a number of Brahmins
allotted to each two separate rations, one on the plantain leaf for
eating on the spot, and another in an earthen _handy_ or pot for
carrying home for the absent members of the family. Even this excellent
arrangement failed to satisfy the greedy cravings of the voracious
Brahmins. As a _dernier ressort_, he at last substituted _cash_ for
_eatables_, which was certainly a queer mode of satisfying the _inner_
man.
[126] There is a vast difference between a _vojun_ and a _jalpan_
dinner. If there be a thousand guests at the latter, at the most there
would be only three hundred at the former, as none but the nearest
relatives and friends will condescend to take rice (_vath_), which is
almost akin to one and the same clanship, whereas in a _jalpan_, not
only the members of the same caste but even those of the inferior order
are tacitly permitted to partake of the same entertainment without
tarnishing the honor of the aristocratic classes.
The following anecdote will, I hope, prove interesting:--
At the marriage procession of a washerman, confessedly very low in the
category of caste, two _Kayastas_ (writer caste) joined it on the road
in the hope of getting a hearty _Jalpan_ dinner; but lo! when, after the
nuptial rites were over, rice and curries were brought out for the
guests, the two _Kayastas_, who sat down with the rest of the company,
tried to escape unnoticed, because if they ate rice at a washerman's
they were sure to lose their caste, but the host would not let them go
away without dinner. They at last spoke the truth, asked forgiveness and
were then allowed to leave the house. To such disappointments
unfortunate intruders are sometimes subjected.
[127] In the sacred city of Benares vast sums of money have been sunk in
building Ghauts with magnificent flights of steps stretching from the
bank to the very edge of the water at ebb-tide, affording great
convenience to the people both for religious and domestic purposes, but
the strong current of the stream in the months of August, September and
October, has played a sad havoc with the masonry works. Scarcely a
single Ghaut exists in a complete state of preservation.
XXI.
SUTTEE, OR THE IMMOLATION OF HINDOO WIDOWS.
Fifty years ago, when the British Government was endeavouring to
consolidate its power in the East, and when the religious prejudices of
the Natives were alike tolerated and respected, there arose a great man
in Bengal who was destined by Providence to work a mighty revolution in
their social, moral and intellectual condition. That great man was
Rammohun Roy, the pioneer of Hindoo enlightenment. Having early enriched
his mind with European and Eastern erudition, he soon rose, by his
energy, to a degree of eminence and usefulness which afterwards marked
his career as a distinguished reformer and a benevolent philanthropist.
He was emphatically an oasis in this sterile land--a solitary example of
a highly cultivated mind among many millions of men grovelling in
ignorance. To his indefatigable exertions we are indebted for the
abolition of the inhuman practice of Suttee, the very name of which
evokes a natural shrinking from the diabolical deed, which appallingly
and suddenly expunged a tender life from the earth, and severed the
dearest tie of humanity. It was the severest reflection on the satanic
character of a religion that ignores the first principle of divine law.
Women are of an impressionable nature, their enthusiasm is easily fanned
into intensity, and superstition and priestcraft took advantage of it.
Not content with sending a sick man to the riverside to be suffocated
and burnt to ashes, a narrow-minded hierarchy lent its sanction to the
destruction of a living creature, by burning the Hindoo widow with the
dead body of her husband, the fire being kindled perhaps by the hand of
one whom she had nurtured and suckled in infancy. It is awful to
contemplate how the finest sensibilities of our nature are sometimes
blunted by a false faith.
My apology for dwelling on this painful subject now that the primary
cause of complaint has long since been removed by a wise Legislature, is
no other than that I had been an eye-witness of a melancholy scene of
this nature, the dreadful atrocity of which it is impossible even at
this distance of time to call to mind without horror and dismay. As the
tale I am going to relate is founded in real life its truthfulness can
be thoroughly relied upon.
When I was a little boy reading in a _Patsala_ at home, my attention was
one morning roused by hearing from my mother that my aunt was "going a
Suttee." The word was then scarcely intelligible to me. I pondered and
thought over and over again in my mind what could the word 'Suttee'
mean. Being unable to solve the problem, I asked my mother for an
explanation; she, with tears in her eyes, told me that my aunt (living
in the next house) "was going to eat fire." Instantly I felt a strong
curiosity to see the thing with my own eyes, still laboring under a
misconception as to what the reality could be. I had then no distinct
notion that life would be at once annihilated. I never thought for a
moment that I was going to lose my dear aunt for ever. My mind was quite
unsettled, and I felt an irresistible desire to look into the thing more
minutely. I ran down to my aunt's room and what should I see there, but
a group of sombre complexioned women with my aunt in the middle. I have
yet after fifty years, a vivid recollection of what I then saw in the
room. My aunt was dressed in a red silk _sari_ with all the ornaments on
her person, her forehead daubed with a very thick coat of _sidoor_ or
vermillion, her feet painted red with _alta_, she was chewing a mouthful
of betel, and a bright lamp was burning before her. She was evidently
wrapt in an ecstacy of devotion, earnest in all she did, quite calm and
composed as if nothing important was to happen. In short, she was then
at her matins, anxiously watching the hour when this mortal coil should
be put off. My uncle was lying a corpse in the adjoining room. It
appeared to me that all the women assembled were admiring the virtues
and fortitude of my aunt. Some licking the betel out of her mouth, some
touching her forehead in order to have a little of the _sidoor_ or
vermillion, while not a few falling before her feet, expressed a fond
hope that they might possess a small particle of her virtue. Amidst all
these surroundings, what surprised me most was my aunt's stretching out
one of her hands at the bidding of an old Brahmin woman and holding a
finger right over the wick of the burning lamp for a few seconds until
it was scorched and forcibly withdrawn by the old lady who bade her do
so, in order to have a foretaste of the unshaken firmness of her mind.
The perfect composure with which she underwent this fiery ordeal fully
convinced all that she was a real Suttee, fit to abide with her husband
in _Boykonto_, paradise. Nobody could notice any change in her
countenance or resolution after she had gone through this painful trial.
It was about eleven o'clock when preparations were made for the removal
of the corpse of my uncle to the Ghaut. It was a small mourning
procession, nearly thirty persons, all of respectable families,
volunteered to carry the dead body alternately on their shoulders. The
body was laid on a _charpoy_, my aunt followed it, not in a closed but
an open Palkee. She was unveiled and regardless of the consequences of a
public exposure; she was, in a manner, dead to the external world. The
delicate sense of shame so characteristic of Hindoo females was entirely
suppressed in her bosom. In truth, she was evidently longing for the
hour when her spirit and that of her husband should meet together and
dwell in heaven. She had a _toolsee mala_ (string of basil beads) in
her right hand which she was telling, and she seemed to enjoy the shouts
of "Hurree, Hurree bole" with perfect serenity of mind. How can we
account for the strange phenomenon wherein a sentient being in a state
of full consciousness was ready to surrender at the feet of "Hurree" the
last vital spark of life for ever, without a murmur, a sigh, or a tear?
A deep, sincere religious faith, which serves as a sheet-anchor to the
soul amidst the storms of life, can only unriddle the enigma and disarm
death of its terrors. We reached Nimtollah Ghaut about twelve, and after
staying ten or fifteen minutes, sprinkling the holy water on the dead
body, and all proceeded slowly to Kooltollah Ghaut, about three miles
north of Nimtollah. On arriving at the destination which was the dreary
abode of Hindoo undertakers, solitary and lonesome, the Police Darogah,
(who was also a Hindoo) came to the spot and closely examined my aunt,
in various ways attempting if possible, to induce her to change her
mind, but she, like "Joan of Arc," was resolute and determined, she gave
an unequivocal reply, to the purport that "such was her predestination,
and that Hurree had summoned her and her husband into the Boykonto." The
Darogah, amazed at the firmness of her mind, staid at the Ghaut to watch
the proceedings, while preparations were being made for a funeral pile,
which consisted of dry firewood, faggots, pitch with a lot of sandal
wood, ghee, &c. in it to impart a fragrant odour to the air. Half a
dozen Bamboos or sticks were procured also, the use of which we
afterwards understood and saw. We little boys were ordered to stand
aloof. The Brahmin undertaker came and read a few _mantras_ or
incantations. The dead body wrapped in new clothes being placed on the
pyre, my aunt was desired to turn seven times round it, which she did
while strewing a lot of flowers, cowries (shells) and parched rice on
the ground. It struck me at the time that at every successive
circumambulation, her strength and presence of mind failed, whereupon
the Darogah stepped forward once more and endeavoured even at the last
moment to deter her from her fatal determination, but she, at the very
threshold of ghastly death, in the last hour of expiring life, the fatal
torch of _Yama_ (Pluto) before her, calmly ascended the funeral pile and
lying by the side of her husband with one hand under his head and
another on his breast, was heard to call, in voice half suppressed, on
"Hurree, Hurree,"--a sign of firm belief in the reality of eternal
beatitude. When she had thus laid herself on the funeral pyre, she was
instantly covered or rather choked with dry wood, while some stout men
held and pressed down the pyre which was by this time burning fiercely
on all sides, with the Bamboos. A great shout of exultation then arose
from the surrounding spectators, till both the dead and living bodies
were converted into a handful of dust and ashes. When the tragic scene
was brought to a close and the excitement of the moment subsided, men
and women wept and sobbed, while cries and groans of sympathy filled the
air.
If all religions be not regarded as "splendid failures," that outlook
into the future, which sustains us amid the manifold griefs and agonies
of a troublous life, holds out the sure hope of a blessed existence
hereafter. My aunt, Bhuggobutty Dassee, though a victim of superstition,
had nevertheless a firm, unalterable faith in the merciful dispensations
of Hurree which prompted her to renounce her life for the salvation of
her own and her husband's souls, giving no heed whatever to the
importunity of her friends or the admonition of the world. The sincerity
of her religious conviction immeasurably outweighed every other worldly
consideration, and no fear or temptation could deter her from her
resolute purpose, despite its singularly shocking character. It was the
depth of a similar religious conviction and earnestness of purpose that
led Joan of Arc to suffer martyrdom on a funeral pile. When asked by
the executioner if she believed in the reality of her mission, "Yes,"
she firmly replied, while the flames were ascending around her. "My
voices were of God. All that I have done was by the command of God. No,
my voices did not deceive me. My revelations were of God." "Nothing more
was heard from her but invocations to God, interrupted by her long drawn
agony. So dense were the clouds of smoke that at one time, she could not
be seen. A sudden gust of wind turned the current of the whirlwind and
Jeanne was seen for a few moments. She gave one terrific cry, pronounced
the name of Jesus, bowed her head, and the spirit returned to God who
gave it. Thus perished Jeanne, the maid of Orleans," and thus perished
Bhuggobutty Dassee, my aunt.
About the year 1813, Rammohun Roy published a pamphlet in which he very
clearly exposed the barbarous character of the rite of burning widows
alive. He was unfortunately backed by few friends. The orthodox party
was then very strong, and included the most influential and wealthy
portion of the Hindoo community. Maharajah Tejchunder Bahadoor of
Burdwan, Rajahs Gopeemohun and Radhakanto Bahadoors, Promothnath Dey,
Boystubchunder Mullick, Rammohun Mullick and, in fact, the entire
aristocracy of Calcutta were enlisted on the side of opposition. The
"Sumachar Chandrika," the recognised organ of the _Dhurmo Shabha_,
edited by Bhowbany Churn Bonerjea, vilified Rammohun Roy, as an outcast
and infidel and persecuted those who were bold enough to avow their
sentiments in favour of the abolition of this inhuman practice. Rammohun
Roy almost single-handed encountered this formidable opposition, he
fought for a just and righteous but not a popular cause, regardless
alike of the consequences of social persecution and the threats and
scoffs of his orthodox countrymen. Patiently but steadily and
consistently he worked his way, until at last his appeal finding a
responsive echo in a Christian heart, that noble minded Governor
General--Lord William Bentinck--gradually put a stop to the practice.
That eminent statesman had many a conference with Rammohun Roy on the
propriety or otherwise of abolishing this shocking practice. The
anti-abolitionists presented a memorial to Government, urging therein
its unjustifiable interference with the religious usages of the country.
That wise Governor General, who was very anxious to preserve in full
integrity the solemn pledge of government about a neutral policy in
matters of religion, consulted the distinguished Orientalist, Mr. H. H.
Wilson, on the subject, and finally came to the resolution of abolishing
this inhuman institution throughout the British dominion in the East.
But before giving effect to the resolution, he recorded in a Minute that
the authoritative abolition of the practice would be an outrageous
violation of the engagement of the Supreme Government. Accordingly his
Lordship observed: "I must acknowledge that a similar opinion, as to the
probable excitation of a deep distrust of our future intentions, was
mentioned to me in conversation by that enlightened Native, Rammohun
Roy, a warm advocate for the abolition of Suttees, and of all other
superstitions and corruptions engrafted on the Hindu religion, which he
considers originally to have been a pure deism. It was his opinion that
the practice might be suppressed quietly and unobservedly by increasing
the difficulties, and by the indirect agency of the Police. He
apprehended that any public enactment would give rise to general
apprehension, that the reasoning would be, while the English were
contending for power, they deemed it politic to allow universal
toleration and to respect our religion; but having obtained the
supremacy, their first act is a violation of their professions and the
next will probably be, like Mahomedan conquerors to force upon us their
own religion."
The argument urged by Government was as reasonable as its conduct was
compatible with its known policy. But it must be mentioned to the credit
of an enlightened Government that its generous exertions have
effectually healed one of the most shocking wounds inflicted by inhuman
superstition upon our unhappy country.
XXII.
THE ADMIRED STORY OF THE SABITRI BRATA,
OR
THE WONDERFUL TRIUMPH OF EXALTED CHASTITY.
In the halcyon days of the Hindoo _Raj_, when religion was regarded as
the mortar of society, and righteousness the cement of domestic
happiness, when Judhistra the Just inculcated, by precept and example,
the inflexible rules of moral rectitude, there reigned in the country of
Madra a very pious, truthful, wise and benevolent king named _Aswapati_.
For a long time he had no child, which made him extremely unhappy.
Seeing that the evening of his life was drawing nearer every day and
there was no sign of the approach of the wished-for consummation, he
undertook to perform a grand religious ceremony with the object of
obtaining a son and heir, and daily made ten thousand offerings to
please the goddess, Sabitri, from whom the boon was expected.
Thus passed away several long and painful years, at the end of which it
came to pass that the goddess, Sabitri, one day suddenly appeared before
him in the shape of a beautiful woman, and told him that she was ready
to grant him any boon he might ask for, because she was well pleased
with him for his austere asceticism, for the purity and sincerity of his
heart, for the strict observance of his vow, and for his firm, unshaken
faith in her. As was to be expected, he prayed for a good number of
sons, affirming that without offspring the life of man upon earth is but
a wilderness, obscuring the transitory sunshine of bliss into a chaotic
mass of settled gloom.
The goddess said that foreknowing this to be his cherished desire, she
had gone to the Creator (Brahma) to consult him as to the best means for
its realization, and through his mercy he would soon be blessed with a
female child, in every way worthy of such a pious and virtuous father.
Her beauty would shed a lustre around her name and the fame of her rare
gifts of nature spread far and wide. She would be the cynosure of all
princely eyes, and her charms radiate in all directions. So saying, the
goddess disappeared and the king returned to his own capital.
In a short time, the eldest queen became pregnant and in due course of
time, gave birth to a daughter of matchless beauty. The king and his
Brahmin friends called her Sabitri, after the name of the goddess who
granted the boon. Day by day, the princess grew fairer and fairer, and
soon passed from the incipient stage of smiling childhood to that of
blooming youth. Every one that saw her chiselled features and
prepossessing appearance believed that some angelic beauty,--the
embodiment of loveliness itself--had descended upon earth in the shape
of a lovely damsel. Indeed she was so surpassingly beautiful that no
prince, how great or eminent he might be, dared seek her hand in
marriage lest his suit should be spurned.