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 onewhom 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 aPatsáláat 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 silksariwith all the ornaments on her person, her forehead daubed with a very thick coat ofsidooror vermillion, her feet painted red withalta, she was chewing a mouthful of betel, and a bright lamp was burning before her. She was evidently wrapt in an ecstacyof 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 thesidooror 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 inBoykonto, 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 acharpoy, 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 atoolsee mala(string of basilbeads) 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 fewmantrasor 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, herstrength 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 ofYama(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 tosuffer 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 theDhurmo 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.
OR
In the halcyon days of the HindooRaj, 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 namedAswapati. 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 (Brahmá) 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.
The king, Aswapati, thought of marrying his only daughter, then in the fullness and freshness of youth, to some one worthy of the honor. For some time no royal suitors ventured to solicit her hand for the reasons stated above. At length, Sabitri sought and obtained her father's permission to secure for herself a suitable match. In complying with her request, the father moreover allowed her to take in her travels some of the wisest ministers of the state, whose experience and counsel would be available to her in so momentous an affair. Mounted on a golden chariot and accompanied by a number of gray headed ministers, she left the capital with thebenedictions of the hereditary priests, and journeyed far and wide through many a strange country, visiting on her way some of the most delightful hermitages of the venerable oldRishis, who were absorbed in meditation.
Sometime after, while the king was attending to the duties of the State and conversing with that renowned sage, Nárada, Sabitri with the ministers returned home from her peregrination. The princess, seeing her father talking with the great Rishi, Nárada, bowed her head down in token of due homage to the venerable Rishi and her respected father. The bustle consequent on the first interview after a long absence being over, Nárada asked the king: "O monarch, where did your daughter go? Whence is she now coming? It is high time that you should give her in marriage to some noble prince worthy of her hand." The king replied, "O revered Rishi, I sent her abroad with some of my wisest ministers in quest of some noble prince, who, to a beautiful person should add all the rarest gifts of wisdom, courage, piety and virtue; now hear from her own mouth, how far she has succeeded in her sacred mission." So saying, the king desired Sabitri to tell them whom she had chosen for her husband. Sabitri, in obedience to her esteemed father's behest, thus spoke in a tone becoming her age and sex. "Father, a pious king named Dyumutsen once ruled the kingdom of Sala. A few days after his accession he lost both his eyes and became totally blind. At that time, his only child was in his infancy, quite incapable of conducting the affairs of the kingdom. His treacherous enemies, taking advantage of his blindness and the infancy of his child, invaded his kingdom and wrested it from his hands. The dethroned king and his beloved queen with their infant child betook themselves to a quiet life of contemplation in an adjacent wood, renouncing all the pleasures of a wicked, ungrateful world. For some years they passed their days in the sequesteredwood amidst the abodes of many revered sages, who took a special delight in imbuing the nascent mind of the boy with the germs of moral and religious instruction, promising a full development in maturer years. He was in every way my equal, and him have I chosen as my worthy husband. His name is Satyavana."
Hearing this, the hoary headed Rishi, Narada, thus addressed the monarch. "O monarch, I am grieved to say that your daughter has been unfortunate in her choice, in having thoughtlessly selected the virtuous Satyavana as her husband." The king feelingly enquired: "O great Rishi, are the noble qualities of valour, prudence, forgiveness, piety, devotion, generosity, filial love and affection to be found in Satyavana?" Narada answered, "Satyavana is Súrya's (sun's) equal in matchless glory, is wise as Vrihashpati himself, brave and warlike as Indra, mild and forgiving as Earth." The king asked: "Is the prince a sincere worshipper of God, walking in the path of righteousness? Is he beautiful, amiable and high-minded?" Narada replied, "O king, like Ratideva, the son of Sankriti, the beautiful Satyavana, is generous; like Sibi, the son of Usinara, he is a lover of God and Truth; and is as high-minded as Yayáti; all the pious old Rishis and other good men believe that Satyavana is brave, mild, meek, truthful, faithful to his friends, magnanimous, pious, and sincere in devotion and earnestness." The king again asked: "O venerable sage, you have named all the good qualities that can ennoble humanity; be kind enough to inform me in what he is wanting." "He has one great disqualification," said Narada, "which is enough to outweigh all his virtues, his life upon earth is very short, he is fated to live exactly one year from this day."
Hearing the fearful prophecy of Narada, the king tried his best to dissuade his daughter from the fatal alliance, but all his efforts proved unavailing. Sabitri, firm and constantin her plighted faith, fearlessly replied that, despite the ominous prediction which is suggestive of the appalling horrors of premature widowhood to the mind of a Hindoo female, she could not retract her pledge and surrender her heart to any other being upon earth.
Nárada then exclaimed; "O king, I see your daughter is true to her promise, firm in her faith and constant in her love and attachment to Satyavana. No one will be able to lead her astray from the path of righteousness. Let the unrivalled pair, therefore, be united in the sacred bond of wedlock." The king replied, "O great Rishi, unalterable are your words; what you have now said is just and right. As you are myGooroo(spiritual guide) I will do what you have ordered me to do." "Heaven's choicest blessings be upon you all," said Narada, and departed.
The king now directed his attention to the solemnisation of the nuptials of his beloved daughter with becoming pomp and éclat.
The fair daughter of Aswapati was thus married in due form to Satyavana, the son of the blind old king, Dyumutsen. For a while the happy pair continued to enjoy all the blessings of conjugal life in their blissful and retired cottage, remote from the busy throng of men and quite congenial to religious meditation, though Sabitri knew full well, as predestined by Bidhátá, that this short and transient happiness would be soon followed by long and painful suffering which would very nigh destroy them both.
Thus week after week and month after month rolled away, when at length the prophetic day on which the terrible doom was to be pronounced upon Satyavana drew nearer and nearer, and when Sabitri saw that there remained only four days to complete the terrible year, perhaps the last year of Satyavana's life, at the end of which the fatal torch ofYamawould appear before her beloved husband, her heartrecoiled at the idea. To avert the dreadful doom she undertook the performance of an austere vow, which strictly enjoined three days of continuous fasting and prayer, pouring forth at the feet of the Almighty all the fervours of a devotional heart. Her father-in-law, Dyumutsen, though overwhelmed by the surging wave of grief, endeavoured to dissuade her from undertaking so trying a vow, but his admonition was quite ineffectual. She persistently adhered to her resolution and calmly resigned herself to the dispensations of a wise, and merciful Providence.
Mental conflict, internal perturbation, and continuous fasting made her weak and emaciated, and the prophetic words of Narada incessantly haunted her mind like some fatal vision. It is quite impossible to describe the violent struggles that passed within her when that terrible day at last arrived, and when the inevitable decree of fate by which her dear husband should for ever cease to live would be fulfilled. After bathing in the sacred stream she made burnt offerings to the gods and prostrated herself on the ground, as a mark of profound homage to the honoured feet of the old Rishis, and those of her revered father-in-law and mother-in-law, who in return heartily pronounced their sincere benedictions upon her. When the hour for dinner came, she was desired to partake of some refreshment, especially after three days' continuous fastings, but animated by a fervent spirit of devotion she declined to take any food before sunset.
Presently she saw her husband going to the forest with his axe and a bag, to procure fruits and dry wood. Sabitri begged to accompany him, but from the prescience of imminent danger as well as from the warmth of affection he would fain keep her at home, being assured that her tender feet were not fitted to wander in the "brambly wilderness" in her present enfeebled state of body; but regardless of all admonition she thus exclaimed: "O my beloved Lord, I am not atall weary with fasting, your very presence is my strongest support. I can never be happy without you, so do not turn a deaf ear to the earnest entreaty of an already disconsolate wife, whose fate is bound with yours in a gordian knot which no earthly force can break or cut." Satyavana was at last constrained to yield to her solicitations, and bade her take his father and mother's permission before her departure. It was with the greatest reluctance that their permission was given. Obtaining their benedictions and being armed with the panoply of divine grace, the unhappy pair quitted their sweet home for the dreary forest. On the way, Satyavana, half conscious of what would soon befall him, addressed his loving wife in the following affectionate words: "O dear Sabitri, behold how nature smiles in all her beauty, how the fields are adorned with fragrant flowers, shady groves, and a wide expanse of living verdure, how slowly and smoothly runs the murmuring brook with soothing melody, how the warblers of the forest pour forth their wild but sweet notes without fear of molestation, how merrily the peacock is dancing, how cheerfully the stag is frisking about, and above all, how the stillness of the scene invites the mind to contemplation."
While Sabitri was attentively listening to her husband's descriptive illustration of nature, her heart swelled in her throat, but her eyes were not sullied with even one tear-drop. She continued to follow her husband as a faithful, obedient wife.
At length they entered the forest, and Satyavana after having filled his bag with various kinds of fruits began to cut with his axe the withered branches of the trees. The effort soon overpowered him and he felt some uneasy sensation about his head. He slowly walked down to his dear wife and observed: "O much beloved Sabitri, suddenly I feel an acute headache which, becoming more and more painful, makes me quite insensible and almost breaks my heart. I cannotstand here any longer, but I trust by the aid of balmy sleep, soon to regain my health and strength."
On hearing her husband's heart-rending words, she sat down upon the ground and placed Satyavana's head upon her lap. But as fate had ordained he soon became perfectly insensible. When Sabitri saw this, her wonted presence of mind did not fail her; trusting, however, in the boundless mercy of an overruling Providence, she calmly and composedly waited for the ill-fated hour, when the shadow of death would hide for ever her beloved Satyavana—a doom she was herself prepared to share. Suddenly, after a short while, she believed she saw a grim figure, clothed in red and resplendent with lustre like the sun, slowly approaching her with a chain in his hand. This was not a figment of her imagination. The veritableYamastood beside Satyavana and looked steadfastly upon him.
No sooner did Sabitri see him than she, taking her husband's head from her lap and placing it upon the ground, with trembling heart thus addressed him. "God-like person, your heavenly form and majestic appearance bespeak unmistakably that you are a god among gods. Vouchsafe to unfold yourself and break your mind to me."
Yama replied; "O Sabitri, thou art chaste and constant in thy devotion and meditation, I, therefore, feel no delicacy in satisfying your eager inquiry. I am Yama (Pluto), I am come here for the purpose of carrying away thy dead husband, as his days upon earth are numbered." To this, Sabitri said, "O king, I have heard that your imps carry away the dead bodies from the earth; why are you then come yourself?"
Yama replied, "O amiable Sabitri, while living, your excellent husband possessed many good qualities and was justly remarkable for his righteousness. It was improper, therefore, to have sent my imps to carry him away. Withthis view I am come myself." So saying Yama forcibly drew out the finger-shaped soul from Satyavana's body. Being deprived of the vital spirit, the dead body became motionless, pale and pallid; and Yama went towards the South. The chaste Sabitri, in order to obtain the fruit of her vow, followed him with sad looks and a heavy heart. Seeing this, Yama remonstrated with her and ordered her to return home and perform the funeral obsequies of her husband. Sabitri said she would go wherever her husband was carried, and that by her unceasing prayer to the Almighty, by her firm faith in her spiritual guide, by the solemn fulfilment of her sacred vow, and by his (Yama's) grace, her course would be free and unrestrained. "O king of the infernal regions," said she, "kindly deign to lend a listening ear to a suppliant's prayer. He that has not obtained a complete mastery over his senses should not come to the forest to lead there either a domestic life, or a student's life, or the life of a devotee. Those who have effectually controlled their passions are fit to fulfil the necessary conditions of the four different modes of life. Of these four modes, the domestic life is decidedly the best, being most favourable to the acquisition of knowledge and wisdom, and to the cultivation of piety and virtue. Persons like myself do not desire to lead any other than a domestic life."
"Now return home, O fair Sabitri; I am much pleased with your wise observations; I am willing to grant you any boon save the life of your husband," exclaimed Yama. Sabitri replied, "O king, be graciously pleased to restore eyesight to my blind father-in-law, and make him powerful as the Sun or the Fire, that he may be enabled to regain his kingdom and rule it with vigour." Yama granted the boon, and directed her to return home after the fatiguing journey. Sabitri answering said, "O virtuous king, I feel no trouble or fatigue while I am with my husband, for a husband is the strengthand stay of his wife, and the wife is the sharer of her husband's weal or woe:
The wife, where danger or dishonor lurks,and seemliest by her husband stays,Who guards her, or with her the worst endures.
"Wherever, therefore, you carry my husband, my footsteps will dog you thither. Our very first intercourse with the good and the righteous leads to the growth of confidence and kindly feeling, which is always productive of the most beneficial results." Whereupon Yama replied, "O thoughtful lady, thy words are agreeable to my heart; they are fraught with meaning and good sense. I shall willingly grant you another boon save the life of your husband." "Allow me, then, O virtuous king, to ask for a hundred begotten sons to my father, who has no son," said Sabitri.
"I grant the boon," said Yama, "now that all your wishes have been consummated, do not continue to follow me any longer. You are far away from your father-in-law's cottage; return home at once."
Sabitri replied, "O virtuous king, we are apt to repose more confidence in the righteous than in ourselves; their kindness amply requites our love and regard." Yama said, "I am very much satisfied with your edifying speech, and am disposed to grant you another boon." Sabitri feeling grateful for the several boons granted unto her, presumed this time to ask for the resurrection of her husband as well as for the birth from them of a hundred powerful, wise and virtuous sons, to be the glory of the country and the ornament of society.
"Be it so," said Yama cheerfully and disappeared.
It is obvious that the fertile imagination of the hereditary priests of Hindoosthan, who, from their traditional mental abstraction, delighted more in the concoction of legendary lore than of the solid, sober realities of life, invented the above Brata or vow, mainly for the consolation of ignorantfemales, to avert the hardships of widowhood, than which a more unmitigated evil is not to be found in the domestic economy of the Hindoos. The unhallowed institution of the immolation of widows alive, was primarily traceable to the dread of this terrible calamity, which preyed, as it were, on the vitals of humanity. Hence the performance of this Brata is the culminating point of meritorious work in popular estimation, promising to the performer the perpetual enjoyment of connubial happiness, which is more valued by a Hindoo female than all the riches of Golconda.
It is annually celebrated in the Bengalee month of Joysto both by widows and by women whose husbands are alive, by the former, in the hope of averting the evil in another life, by the latter, in the expectation of continuing to enjoy conjugal bliss both in this world and the next.
On the celebration of this Brata on the fourteenth night of the decrease of the moon, the husband, being dressed in clean new clothes, is made to sit on a carpet, the wife, previously washing and drying his feet, puts round his neck a garland of flowers and worships him with sandal and flowers, wrestling hard in prayer for his prolonged life. This being done, she provides for him a good dinner, consisting of different kinds of fruits, sweetmeats, sweet and sour milk and ghee-friedloochees, &c. It should be mentioned here that a widowed lady offers the same homage to the god, Naraian, in the place of a husband.
The usual incantation is read by the priest, and she repeats it inaudibly, the substance being in harmony with her cherished desire. He gets his usual fee of two or four rupees and all the offerings in rice, fruits, sweetmeats, clothes, brass utensils, &c. If not dead, a woman has to perform this Brata regularly for fourteen long years, at the end of which the expense is tenfold more, in clothes, beddings, brass utensils, and an entertainment to Brahmins, friends and neighbours, than in the ordinary previous years.
Besides the Bratas described above, there are many others of more or less note, which are annually observed by vast numbers of females, who, from their early religious tendencies, seem to enjoy a monopoly of them. It is, however, a singular fact that the primary object of all these religious vows is the possession of all sorts of worldly happiness, seldom supplemented by a desire of endless blessedness hereafter. This is unquestionably a lamentable desideratum in the original conception and design of the popular Hindoo Shastras, clearly demonstrating its superficiality and poverty.
From the period of conception a woman is enjoined by way of precaution, to live under certain rules and restrictions, the observance of which is to ensure a safe delivery as well as the safety of the offspring. She is not allowed to put on clothes over which birds of the air have flown, lest their return might prolong the period of her delivery. She fastens a knot to one end of theAchalof herSaree[128]and keeps it tied about her waist, and spits on her breast once a day before washing her body, and is not allowed to sit or walk in the open compound in order to avoid evil spirits; as a safeguard against their inroads, she constantly wears in the knot of her hair a slender reed five inches long.
When in a state of pregnancy, a Hindoo female is treated with peculiar care, tenderness and affection. She is generally brought from her father-in-law's house to that of her father, where all the members of the family shew her the greatest love lest she should not survive the throes of childbirth. Indeed the first childbirth of a young Hindoo girl is justly considered a struggle between life and death. As a religious safeguard and guarantee for safe delivery, she is made to wear round her neck a smallMadoolee(a very small casket made of gold, silver, or copper), containing some flowers previously consecrated toBaba Thacoor[129]and to drink daily until her delivery a few drops of holy water after touching it with theMadoolee.
It is perhaps generally known that a Hindoo girl is married between 9 and 12 years of age—an age when her European sister would not even dream of being united in the bonds of wedlock; and the natural consequence is, she becomes a mother at thirteen or fourteen years. An eminent writer who had studied the subject carefully thus remarks: "Till their thirteenth year, they are stout and vigorous; but after that period, they alter much faster than the women in any of the nations of Europe." Her tender age, her sedentary life, her ignorance of the laws of hygiene, the common dread of childbirth, the want of proper midwives as well as of timely medical aid (should any be necessary), conspiresometimes to cause an untimely death. She must continue to observe many precautions until her accouchement is completed.
In the fifth month of her pregnancy takes place herKacha Shád.[130]The day must be an auspicious one according to Hindoo astrologers, and she is treated that day with special indulgence, inasmuch as all the delicacies of the season are given to her without restriction. In the seventh month she is treated withBhájá Shád, when she eats with a few other females (whose husbands and children are all alive) all sorts of parched peas and rice as well asMethaisand other sweetmeats; in the ninth month, thePaunchámrita[131]ceremony is held, when she is made to wear a red-borderedAkhandaSaree (a piece of cloth ten cubits long with the edges uncut), which is preserved with the greatest care lest any jealous and mischievous woman who has lost her children, should clandestinely cut and take away a portion of the same, which is considered a very portentous omen for the preservation of the new born babe.
On the celebration ofPaunchámritaabove mentioned the officiating priest, after repeating the usual incantation, pours into her mouth a little of the delicacies, without the same coming in contact with her teeth. She is forbidden to eat anything else that day except fruits and sweetmeats; and then a good day is appointed for the celebration of the grand finalShád, when all the female relatives and connections of the family are invited. In Calcutta, Hindoo females of respectability are not permitted to be seen, much less to walk in the streets; they live in a state of perfect seclusion, entirely apart from the male members of the family, it being considered a very great disgrace should a respectable female be in any way exposed to public gaze. The very construction of a Hindoo family dwelling house clearly indicates the prevalence of the close zenana system; the inmates must have an inner and an outer apartment, there must be an inclosed court-yard reached by tortuous passages, closed by low constructed doors, through which one has to wriggle rather than to walk; the sun seldom shines into it; small contracted staircases, foul confined air, no circulation or ventilation are the result: the noxious effluvia evaporating from this or that side of the house, especially from the lower floor, is a nuisance which the inmates put up with,with scarcely any complaint. The drainage and water works have certainly effected considerable improvement towards the promotion of cleanliness, but still the dirty and filthy state of most of the family dwelling houses is a notorious fact. By a small door only there exists a communication between the inner and outer apartment; should the house be a small one, say from three to fourcottahs, which is generally the case in such a crowded city as Calcutta, and should the women talk loud enough to be heard by men outside, they are not only instantly checked but severely reprimanded for the liberty. The great privacy of the close zenana system is, however, broken by females being obliged to travel in a Railway carriage: though Hindoos of rank, whenever they have occasion to go on pilgrimage by Rail, generally engage a reserved compartment for the females, yet they cannot manage to preserve absolute privacy when going into or coming out of the carriage at the Railway Stations.
To return to the grand finalShád, on the day appointed an awning is put up over the court-yard of the house.Palkeesare sent to each of the families invited; and the guests (nearest female relatives) begin to come in from ten in the morning; a general spirit of hilarity prevails on all sides, noise and bustle ensue, the women are busy in receiving their guests, preparations are being made for the grand feast, the men outside direct thePalkeebearers where next to go, the little children have their own share of juvenile frolic, the young damsels and the aged matrons are seen speaking to their respective friends with mutual love, affection and confidence; and signs of joviality and conviviality are seen every where. It is on such occasions that women unbosom themselves to each other, and freely and unreservedly communicate their feelings, their thoughts, their wishes, nay their secrets to friends of congenial spirit and temper; their conversation knows no end, their amiable loveliness almost spontaneously developes itself; they unburden their minds of the heavy load of accumulated thoughts; their joys and sorrows, their happiness and misery, their sympathy and emotion, pleasurable or painful, have their full scope. If they are naturally garrulous they become more so at such a jovial assemblage, so that one can dive deepest down into their hearts on such an occasion. Many a matrimonial match is proposed and matured at such meetings, and to crown the whole, sisters of kindred spirit embrace each other with all the warmth of genuine love and affection. If their minds are contracted by reason of scanty culture, their hearts are full of affection, sympathy and susceptibility, which cannot fail to exercise a beneficial influence on human nature.
On such occasions, females are allowed to have some amusement ortámáshá, according to their liking, (but of course not such as betrays a vitiated taste, overstepping the bounds of decorum, which was the case some years back). Dancing girls andPanchálleysare entertained, who contribute not a little to the amusement of the assembled guests. Immured within the walls of a close zenana they are seldom suffered to enjoy such unrestrained liberty. Otto of roses, rose water out of gold or silver pots, nosegays, andpaunor betel are freely distributed among them. They sit on benches or chairs, or squat down barefooted onforash bichana(a clean white sheet), and enjoy thetámásháto their hearts' content. These amusements continue till evening, entertaining the guests with songs on gods and goddesses (Doorga, Krishna and his mistress, Rádhá): those relating to Doorga have a reference to the ill treatment she experienced at the hands of her parents, but those pertaining to Krishna and Rádhá tell of his juvenile frolics with his mother and the milk-maids, and amorous songs on disappointed love, which, though they may appear harmless to their worshippers, have nevertheless a partial tendency to debase the minds of females. By way of encouragement, the singing and dancing girls receive, besides their hire, presents of money, clothes and shawls, according to the circumstances of the parties retaining them. To do our women justice, however, it is pleasing to reflect that the progress of enlightenment has of late years wrought a salutary change in their minds. Instead of the formerKabees(songs) which were shamefully characterised by the worst species of obscenity and immorality, they have imbibed a taste for more sober and refined entertainments. Moral and intellectual improvement amongst perfectly secluded females is a sure harbinger of national regeneration. The young and the sprightly, as is naturally to be expected, enjoy these amusements most; but the more elderly and thoughtful females make the best of the opportunity in conversation about domestic affairs with those of their own age and kinship. They have certainly no distaste for these frivolous entertainments, but the thoughts and cares of home press more heavily on their minds. Age and experience have taught them to regard the enjoyment of unalloyed domestic felicity as the chief end of life. A good Hindoo housewife is a model of moral excellence.
About four o'clock in the afternoon, when almost all the guests are assembled together, long parallel rows ofpirays, or wooden seats, the one quite apart from the other—are arranged in straight lines in the court-yard, in the midst of which is placed the seat of the pregnant girl, which,by way of distinction, is painted white with rice paste (álpáná) with appropriate devices. Adorned with ornaments of glittering gold, bedecked with precious stones, and dressed in an embroidered BenaresSaree, she walks gracefully towards her particular seat, which is a signal for others (widows excepted) to follow; they all squat down on the wooden seats, before which are placed small pieces of green plantain leaves and a few little earthen plates and a cup, which are intended to serve the purposes of plates and glasses. Before her stands a light, aconchis sounded, and a rupee with which her forehead is touched is kept for the gods, for safe delivery. Fruits of different kinds, about fifteen or sixteen sorts of sweetmeats,loochee,kachoory,papur(flour fried with ghee) in the shape ofcháppátees, vegetable curries of several kinds, sweet and sour milk, are provided for the guests, the female relatives of the girl serving as stewards. No adult male member of the family is allowed to assist in the feast, because Hindoo females blush to eat before men. Being most pre-eminent in point of caste, Brahmin women are servedfirst. Here the rules of caste are strictly observed, and no departure therefrom is tolerated. It is not uncommon that uninvited females, or more properly speaking, intruders contrive by some means or other, to mix with the company; but they are soon singled out by the more shrewd and experienced, and to their chagrin and disappointment, instantly removed from their seats. They do not, however, go away with curses on their lips, but receive a few things and are ordered to leave the house without aPalkee.[132]
After the feast is over, the women, washing their hands and mouths, express their good wishes for the safe delivery of the girl, and make preparations for returning home. Here confusion and bustle ensue consequent on the simultaneous desire of all to return homefirst, and as the sun begins to set, their anxiety becomes more intense to see the faces of their absent children; laying aside their wonted modesty, some of them almost unblushingly make a rush and enter thefirst Palkeethat comes in their way, regardless alike of their sex and the rules ofdecorum. If 100 families are invited, about tenPalkeesare retained. Hackney carriages are sometimes substituted in place ofPalkees, but whatever arrangements are made it is next to impossible to satisfy at least 200 people at one and the same time. The guests are never expected to find their own conveyances. Before coming, some of them keep the Palanquin waiting for an hour or so, while they are engaged at their toilet and adorning their persons with divers ornaments. It is not unfrequently the case on such occasions that females in poor circumstances borrow ornaments from their more prosperous friends, in order to appear in society to the best advantage. In the absence of mental accomplishments, Hindoo ladies necessarily set a high value on the jewels about their persons. Some twenty years back, massive articles of gold were considered the mostrecherchéornaments, so much so that some rich ladies were adorned with gold articles alone to the weight of 6 or 7 lbs.; to an English lady, this might appear incredible, but it is a fact which does not admit of any contradiction. Hindoo females are religiously forbidden to wear gold ornaments about their feet, it being considered a mark of disrespect toLukxmee(goddess of prosperity,) hence they put on pairs of solid massive silvermallsor anklets, weighing sometimes about 3 lbs.; though such massive articles are a great incumbrance to the free motion of the limbs, they are nevertheless used with great pleasure. Indeed it has been sarcastically remarked that were a Hindoo lady offered a goldgrindstoneto wear round her neck, weighing some 20 lbs. she would gladly accept the offer and go through the ordeal. But as the spread of English education has improved the minds of the people, it has likewise improved their taste; instead of massive gold ornaments, ladies of the present day prefer those of delicate diamond cut workmanship, set with pearls and precious stones such aschick,sittahaur,táráháur,seetee,tabij,bajoo,jasum,nabaruttun taga, bracelets of six or seven patterns, and ear-rings of three or four kinds, for which girls in very early youth perforate their ears in 8 or 10 places, as also their noses in two places. By their choice of the modern ornaments they shew their preference for elegance to mere weight. Brilliant Pearl necklaces[133]of from seven to nine rows, and costlybijouteries of modern style, have superseded the old-fashioned solid goldBhawooteesandTaurs. A rich lady is sometimes seen with jewellery worth 15,000 to 20,000 Rupees and upwards; as a matter of course, such a lady is the cynosure of all eyes, and the rest of the company move as satellites round the primary planet. Conscious of her superiority in this respect and puffed up with vanity she disdains to hold converse with her less fortunate sisters. She is tramping, as it were, "to the tinkling sound of the ornaments of gold and gems on her person." As the grand centre of attraction, her gait, her gestures, her movements form the subject of general criticism, and as an object of envy she continues to be talked of even after the return of the guests to their homes.
In the villages, however, silver ornaments are more in vogue than gold ones, simply because the rural population have neither the taste nor the means of the people of the city. As a rule, the Hindoos invest their savings in gold and silver which is turned to good account in times of need and distress. Throughout Hindoosthan, the people have so great apenchantfor gold and silver ornaments that not only women but men also adorn their persons with solid articles of sterling gold. I have seen Setts (shroffs) and Malgoozars go about with ornaments of considerable value; their dress, however, is generally exceedingly tawdry, and bears no correspondence to the worth of the articles of gold they carry about. I once weighed a solid pure gold chain worn by a Sett round his waist, which the natives callGote, weighing over 4 lbs., worth about 3,000 Rupees.
In Bengal little children are seen with gold ornaments on their persons[134]till they are 6 years of age, but adults are entirely free from this passion. When a male child is born to a respectable Hindoo, the heart of the mother irresistibly yearns to adorn its person with ornaments, especially at the time ofvath(christening),i. e., at 6 months of age for a male and 7 months for a female child.
When the females return home after the entertainment, it is truly a scene of "sorry to part, happy to meet again." It is seldom that such opportunities are afforded them to give free vent to their feelings, thoughts and wishes;—a human being always feels unhappy at living in a perfectly isolated state; he or she naturally longs for society, and this longing is alike manifest in both sexes. The greater the restraint, asin the case of Hindoo ladies, the stronger the desire for social intercourse. Can a zenana Hindoo lady with her veiled modesty suppress the impulse to look about through the shutters of a closed Palkee, with guards on both sides, in the light of day? The impulse is by no means a criminal one but is prompted by the irresistible influence of nature. The parting exclamation on such occasions is, "Sister, when shall I have the good fortune to see you again?" "Why, not before long," is the common reply. The consummation of the desire, if long deferred, naturally produces feelings of discontent. A few days after the feast the families that were invited, give a tangible proof of their regard for the pregnant girl by making her presents of clothes and sweetmeats according to their respective circumstances, as a matter of course the nearest relatives making the richest presents.
The following is the story of this goddess:—In a certain village there lived a poor Brahmin boy, whose poverty was well-known throughout the neighbourhood. One day a fisherman came to sell some fish, on seeing which the boy began to cry for them. His mother, a poor aged widow, though very desirous to satisfy the craving of her son, had unfortunately no means to buy them, whereupon the fisherwoman affected by the cries of the boy, offered to give her credit and said she would come for the price on her way home. Meantime the mother cooked the fish; but before her son had time to eat them, the fisherwoman, according to her promise, returned for the price. The old woman being still unable to pay, the fish vendor demanded the return of the fish, which, though cooked, she was willing to take back. This being done, the boy, however, had the advantage of tasting the soup made of the fishes and was so much pleased with the taste of animal food that he could not resist the temptation of stealing one day alameduck belonging to the king, and eating it privately. Investigation being made, the theft was traced to the poor Brahmin boy, who being summoned before the king, was tried, convicted and sentenced to be imprisoned, at which the mother became inconsolable. Seeing her distress and despondency, the goddess Doorga, in the form ofSoobachinee, appeared to her in a dream, and, giving her hopes ofconsolation and better luck for the future, eventually advised her to perform the worship of the goddessSoobachinee. In obedience to the above injunction, she did as she was directed. Seventeen ducks made of rice-paste (sixteen with two perfect legs and one with a lame leg) formed a part of the ceremony. After the performance of the worship and the expiatory rite ofhoma(burnt offering) which expiates all sin, the holy water being sprinkled on the feathers of the stolenlameduck, that were concealed under the ashes, the devoured duck was at once restored to life and sent back to the king's poultry-yard. The miraculous resuscitation of the duck was brought to the notice of the king, who immediately sent for the poor old woman and questioned her how the deadlameduck was made alive again; the old woman, trembling through fear, related all the particulars about the appearance of the goddess in a dream. The king, being satisfied as to the truth of the tale, ordered the captive boy to be released at once and brought to his presence, concluding that the goddess must have been very propitious to the old woman and her son. Consulting his ministers on the subject, he said within himself he could not have a better match for his daughter, who was of marriageable age, than the late delinquent. So the nuptials were duly solemnized with becoming pomp, and the poor Brahman family lived ever after in a state of great affluence and happiness. Hindoo ladies of the orthodox school learn this tale almost in their nursery, and feel a peculiar delight in reciting it on certain occasions.
The writings of the ancient Hindoo sages, as handed down to us by history and tradition, incontestably prove that they were chiefly theists; but as their religious ideas were supremely transcendental, ill suited to the comprehension of the great mass of the people, and consequently not adapted to bring joy, peace and rest to the mind, their descendants learnt to modify those ideas and practically reduce them to the level of the popular understanding. They gradually created a Trinity,i. e., the Creator, the Preserver, and the Destroyer. But as this triad was not sufficiently attractive or intelligible to the unlettered mass, who wanted something in the shape of real, tangible personification of the deity, in place of indistinct, invisible supernatural beings, a designing priesthoodsubsequently attempted to satisfy their wishes by foisting upon them a whole rabble of gods and goddesses, which are almost as innumerable as the pebbles on the sea shore. In numerical strength the Pantheon of the Hindoos far surpasses that of the Egyptians, Greeks, and the Romans. What ancient system of mythology contained so many as 330 million gods and goddesses? As in mythology, so in chronology, the Hindoos stand unrivalled. Their pantheon is as capacious and extensive as their antiquity[135]is unfathomable and prehistoric. The origin of the Puranic mythology is to be attributed to this national predilection; and the worship of the female deities with bloody sacrifices is intended to terrify the ignorant populace into superstitious beliefs still grosser than were habitual to them.
The antiquity of the Brahminical creed and of the religious systems incorporated into, and engrafted on it, has long been a subject of interesting inquiry. It is not my intention to go into the subject more deeply than merely to affirm that it is still a debatable point among the most distinguished orientalists, whether or not the Egyptians and Greeks borrowed their system of mythology from that of the Hindoos, and afterwards improved on it by divesting it of the grosser excrescences. The character of the Hindoo deities is more or less puerile, impure and ungodly, not possessing any of the cardinal virtues, such as become the living and true God. Desiring to steer clear of such deformities and impurities, the Greeks and Romans consecrated separate temples to "Virtue, Truth, Piety, Chastity, Clemency, Mercy, Justice, Faith, Hope and Liberty."
It is a remarkable fact, says Ward, that "the sceptical part of mankind have always been partial to heathenism. Voltaire, Gibbon, Hume &c. have been often charged with a strong partiality for the Grecian and Roman idolatries; and many Europeans in India are suspected of having made large strides towards heathenism. Even Sir William Jones, whose recommendation of the Holy Scripture (found in his Bible after his death,) has been so often and so deservedly quoted, it is said, toplease his Pundit, was accustomed to study the Shastras with the image of a Hindoo god placed on his table; and his fine metrical translations of idolatrous hymns are known to every lover of verse. In the same spirit, we observe, that figures and allusions to the ancient idolatries are retained in almost all modern poetical compositions and even in some Christian writings."
It has been very wisely remarked by a philosophical traveller, Dr. Clarke, that "by a proper attention to the vestiges of ancient superstition, we are sometimes enabled to refer a whole people to their original ancestors, with as much, if not more certainty, than by observations made upon their language; because the superstition is engrafted on the stock, but the language is liable to change." Writing on the same subject, Sir William Jones remarks, "if the festivals of the old Greeks, Persians, Romans, Egyptians and Goths, could be arranged with exactness in the same form with the Indian, there would be found a striking resemblance among them; and an attentive comparison of them all, might throw great light on the religion, and perhaps on the history, of the primitive world."
The Egyptians described the source of the Nile as flowing from Osiris; so the Hindoos represent the holy stream of the Ganges as flowing from the head of Iswara, which Sir William Jones so beautifully describes in his hymn to Ganga: