CHAPTER VI.

Manners of the Hindoos

MANNERS AND CUSTOMS OF THE HINDOOS

Much of what properly belongs to this head has been incidentally introduced in previous chapters, especially those which treat of religion and laws, and it is therefore only necessary here to refer to a few detached particulars. And first of all, it is important to remember that under the general name of Hindoos is included a vast population, probably belonging to distinct races, and at all events presenting numerous diversities, both physical and mental. From this fact it necessarily follows, that almost every general observation respecting them must be received with some modification. The virtues or vices which may prevail to such an extent in certain districts as to form characteristic features, may be unknown or repudiated in others, and thus praise and censure indiscriminately applied may produce most erroneous impressions. This, however, is a danger against which it is very difficult to guard, since it would be impossible, without exceeding all due bounds, to enumerate all the exceptions by which every general statement would require to be modified in order to be rendered strictly accurate. It must suffice, then, to put the reader on his guard, by reminding him that in treating of the manners of the Hindoos, nothing more is attempted than to select those which, whether exhibited by the great mass or only by particular sections of the population, present the greatest contrast to our own manners, and may hence be presumed to be the best fitted at once to gratify curiosity and convey useful instruction.

The best physical type of the Hindoo is found in the upper basin of the Ganges. Here he is of tall stature, well formed, and of a complexion which, though tanned, may still be designated as fair. Here also he excels in those qualities which seem to be in a great measure the result of physical constitution, and is of a bold, manly spirit. Occupying the tracts in which his race are understood to have fixed their earliest settlement, he may probably owe part of his superiority to his greater purity of descent from the original stock; but a more adequate cause of it may be found in the possession of a climate better fitted to develop the human frame, and in the intimate relations into which he was early brought with conquerors from the West. By these his martial spirit, even while it failed to secure his independence, was more stimulated than crushed, and he was made acquainted with a civilization which, however imperfect, was in several respects superior to his own. Thus, partly from natural and partly from artificial causes, the Hindoo of the north-western provinces furnishes the most favourable specimen of his race. On descending from the upper to the lower basin of the Ganges, or the immense plain of Bengal proper, a striking contrast is observed. The Bengalee, though undoubtedly belonging to the same original stock, looks as if he had been dwarfed. His stature is diminutive and slender, his complexion of a darker hue, and his whole appearance effeminate. As if conscious that in him a dignified and manly bearing would be altogether out of place, he seems to confess by his timidity that he stands in need of a protector, and by his insinuating manners that he is ready to make any sacrifice of independence that may be necessary to procure one. His features, perhaps even more regular than those of his more northern countryman, are of a thoughtful, intellectual cast, but indicate the possession of faculties more subtle than vigorous, and a disposition in which pliancy and obsequiousness are substituted for sterner and better qualities. The Hindoo of the Deccan varies much in different localities, sometimes approaching the higher, but more frequently degenerating into the lower physical type, without compensating for its defects, like the Bengalee, by a larger development of mental subtlety.

The three great divisions of Hindoo population just mentioned are distinguished by other differences than those of physical form. In the north, the principal food is unleavened wheaten bread—in Bengal, rice—and in the Deccan, at least when rice cannot be easily cultivated, a variety of pulse and inferior grains, among which ragee holds a prominent place. In the north, again, the use of the turban, and of a dress resembling that of the Mahometans, seems to separate the inhabitants from the great body of their Hindoo countrymen, who, leaving the rest of the body uncovered, think it sufficient for comfort and decency to wrap one scarf round the body, and throw another over the shoulders. The ordinary dwellings of all the divisions are arranged nearly upon the same plan, and afford very indifferent accommodation. Each dwelling contains, for the most part, only a single apartment, with the addition, perhaps, of a shed for cooking, and when it is intended to be used as a shop, of another shed open to the front for the exhibition of the wares. In general, the only aperture for light and air is the entrance, which is seldom provided with a door, and is only partially closed by means of a kind of hurdle. The furniture is of the most meagre description. A few mats and hurdles supply the place of beds and bedsteads, and a few paltry utensils, partly of brass, but mostly of earthenware, answer all other domestic purposes. This description of course applies only to the great body of the lower classes; but it is rather singular that in many parts of the country, where an individual possessed of some means seeks to enlarge his accommodation, instead of building a larger and more commodious house, he only builds one or more additional cottages, each consisting as before of a single apartment, and having a separate entrance. There being thus no internal communication, the several apartments, though occupied by the same family, cannot be reached by the inmates without passing into the open air. The inconveniences of this mode of building are, however, too apparent to allow it to be general; and the Hindoo whose means enable him to possess something better than a single hut, usually accomplishes his object in the same way as in other countries, by having recourse to a larger, loftier, and more substantial erection. Though the plan of the ordinary dwellings is very similar, in respect of accommodation, in all parts of the country, the materials used in their construction, and the forms given to them are different. In the north the walls are formed of clay or unburned bricks, and the pent roofs are covered with tiles. In the Deccan, where stone is more abundant, it is much employed even in the humblest dwellings, which thus are substantially built, but display little taste, having flat roofs, which are not seen, and in consequence cause every house to look as if it were an uncovered ruin. In the more southern districts of the peninsula the heaviness of this mode of building is relieved, and an appearance of neatness and cleanness imparted, by the practice of painting the walls externally in alternate broad and vertical belts of white and red. The Bengal cottage has only cane walls and a thatched roof. It is thus the flimsiest of all, and being formed throughout of combustible materials, seldom escapes from being sooner or later destroyed by fire. Still, with all its defects, it is, in external appearance, the most tastefully constructed cottage in India, and has so far captivated the fancy of resident Europeans that its name of banggolo, said to have been given to it from its being peculiar to Bengal, has by them been corrupted into bungalow, and applied indiscriminately to all their buildings in the cottage style.

The great body of the Hindoo population has always been agricultural. Even when manufactures were flourishing, many of the weavers divided their time between the loom and the plough; and now that the foreign demand for the product of the former has in a great measure ceased, a larger proportion of the population than formerly must have become entirely dependent on the latter. The general appearance of the country, however, does not at first sight seem reconcilable with this conclusion. On whatever side the traveller turns his eye he looks in vain for farm homesteads, and sees only villages and towns. His natural inference is that the population must be thus congregated into masses, from being occupied with trades and other industrial labours, which are best carried on in communities of some extent. This inference, though natural, would be erroneous. The absence of rural dwellings indicates, not that the cultivators are few, but that it is more agreeable to their habits, and also more conducive to the security of their persons and property, to live grouped together in masses, rather than in families isolated from each other, and resident on the lands which they cultivate. This mode of living at some distance from the scene of their daily labours must be attended with many inconveniences, of which not the least serious is the time that must be consumed in passing to and fro with the cattle and the implements of labour, in carting out manure, and bringing home the crops. On the other hand, both in the very early ages, when it must have been originally adopted, and during the periods of disturbance which have ever since been breaking out at comparatively brief intervals, this system presents advantages which more than compensate for its inconveniences, and it has accordingly proved the most durable of all Hindoo institutions.

The villages thus occupied are of various descriptions. In the north they stand in open ground, and are built in close compact groups; in Bengal, on the contrary, they are not placed in juxtaposition, but scattered through woods of bamboos and palms. In some localities they are walled, so as to be capable of resisting any sudden inroad, and occasionally provided with still more effectual means of defence; in others they are open, or only inclined with a fence sufficient to keep in cattle. All of them are provided with a bazaar, in which the ordinary articles of village consumption are sold; and most of them with one or more temples, and a choultry or shed, in which strangers are lodged. This choultry sometimes serves as a town-house, though all kinds of public business are usually transacted in the open air beneath some shady trees. Each village possesses many of the powers of self-government, and has a regular gradation of officers for the superintendence of its affairs. First in order is the headman, designated in the Deccan and in the west and centre of Hindoostan by the name of patel, and in Bengal by that of mandel. Though regarded as an officer of government, and usually appointed by it, the selection is made from some family which claims it as an hereditary right. Sometimes the villages are permitted to select the particular individual of the family—a privilege the more readily conceded to them, because a headman not enjoying their confidence would be incapable of performing the duties of his office. These are numerous, and include all parts of municipal authority. He settles with the government the whole amount of revenue for the whole land belonging to the village, apportions it among the inhabitants according to the extent and value of the lands occupied by them, regulates the supplies of water for irrigation, settles disputes, apprehends offenders, &c. In the performance of these duties he is not left to his own judgment, but is expected to act in free consultation with the villagers, especially in all matters of public interest. In settling private disputes he usually avails himself of the aid of a punchayet, or a kind of jury, composed of individuals who act as his assessors when they are chosen by himself, and as arbitrators when they have been selected by mutual agreement among the parties. The office of headman, though it evidently requires special qualifications, is saleable. The temptations to a purchase are not merely the respectability and influence which the possession of it implies, but the emoluments which accompany it. These consist, in addition to the land which may be held by hereditary right, of a small pension from government, and a considerable amount exigible from the villagers in regular or casual fees. Subordinate to the headman are the accountant, who keeps the village accounts, and the village register (in which all lands and rights of lands, as well as their liabilities, are entered), acts as a notary in executing legal deeds and other documents, and is generally employed in all kinds of business, public and private, in which the use of the pen is required; the watchman, who has charge of the boundaries, the crops, and all matters of police, and in particular, when any property has been stolen, is bound to capture the thief, if within the limits of the village, or trace him beyond them; the priest, who usually acts also as teacher; the astrologer, who casts nativities and determines the days which are lucky and unlucky; the minstrel, who, besides reciting or composing verses, traces pedigrees, for the purpose both of determining the succession to property and the restrictions on intermarriage; the money-changer, who assays all the money received in payment, and acts also in the ordinary capacity of silversmith; the barber, carpenter, and various other tradesmen, who, instead of living by their handicrafts in the ordinary way, are recognized as public servants, and paid a fixed amount, either of money or produce, levied proportionably from all the inhabitants. A common fund is also levied for religious and charitable purposes, such as the giving of alms to religious mendicants, and for the expenses occasioned by the celebration of public festivities. Each village, thus complete within itself, is truly a republic in miniature.

Besides the headman and his leading assistants, who may be considered as the aristocracy of the village, there are others of the inhabitants to whom the possession of wealth gives distinction. These, instead of retaining the lands in their own possession, may let them out to tenants; other lands, too, belonging to the village in common, may be similarly occupied; and thus in a lower grade than those who, possessing hereditary shares of land in their own right, constitute the only proper proprietors of the village, are the actual occupants distinguished as permanent tenants, temporary tenants, labourers, and shopkeepers, the last being mere householders, who have no connection with land, and have become voluntary residents in the village in order to follow their calling. These distinctions are important, and imply differences of right. From overlooking these differences, and confounding all classes of tenants and occupants under the common name of ryots, grave errors and gross injustice have been committed.

The condition of the villagers generally is not prosperous. Here and there indications of wealth appear, and dwellings of two stories with a court-yard intimate that the lot of their possessors is superior to that of those who occupy the surrounding huts. It is not impossible, however, that the prosperity of the former may be one main cause of the poverty of the latter, and that the houses which rise thus ostentatiously may belong to money-lenders, who draw enormous profits by taking advantage of the necessities of their neighbours. Few of the tenants are able to pay their rent and procure the necessary means of subsistence, without borrowing money on the security of their growing crop. They thus become involved in debt, and either suffer from extortion, or endeavouring to resist it, are tempted to engage in litigation, which proves still more disastrous. Many are thus kept constantly in bondage, while others who may have managed to escape from it seldom profit so much by the bitter lesson taught them, as to be able long to avoid a recurrence of similar entanglements. From a kind of childish improvidence, the passing day only is attended to, and what ought to have been treasured up as a provision for the future, is too often squandered in gratifying the whim of the moment, or on some ostentatious extravagance in the celebration of a festival, or it may be, the performance of a funeral. Still, it is undeniable that humble life in India nowhere appears to so much advantage as among its rural population. Its ordinary routine is thus described by Mr. Elphinstone:¹—“The husbandman rises with the earliest dawn, washes and says a prayer, then sets out with his cattle to his distant field. After an hour or two he eats some remnants of his yesterday’s fare for breakfast, and goes on with his labour till noon, when his wife brings out his hot dinner; he eats it by a brook, or under a tree, talks and sleeps till two o’clock, while his cattle also feed and repose. From two till sunset he labours again; then drives his cattle home, feeds them, bathes, eats some supper, smokes, and spends the rest of the evening in amusement with his wife and children, or his neighbours.

Hindoo towns differ little from those of other eastern countries. The houses, generally of brick or stone, are lofty, and being lighted only by a few small and high-placed windows, have no architectural merit. The streets, along which they are ranged in long lines, are narrow, and either badly paved with large uneven stones, or not paved at all. When the population is great, the thoroughfares are crowded, and the passenger, with difficulty and some degree of danger, makes his way among carriages drawn by oxen, palanquins, running footmen, busy traffickers, and idle loungers. The shops, consisting of the lower part of the house, left entirely open for the purpose, or merely of the verandah in front of it, make little display, as the most showy articles, if of great value, are not exposed, and cloths, shawls, and other stuffs are kept in bales. Each town has a surrounding district, of which it is the capital, and is under the charge of a government agent, whose jurisdiction extends to all matters of revenue and police. In exercising it, he has the aid of assistants, who are always more numerous than the work allotted them requires, and too often, instead of administering justice, lend themselves, for bribes, to the perversion of it. Among the inhabitants, bankers and merchants, the same individuals usually acting in both capacities, take the lead. Both in transactions with government, to which they make loans, on the security or assignment of revenue, and in ordinary dealings with individuals, they stipulate for enormous profit, and though, instead of fully realizing it, they are often obliged to accept of a compromise, enough still remains to enable them to accumulate rapidly, and acquire immense wealth. Meanwhile their ordinary expenditure is seldom increased, and they continue to live frugally, except when a marriage or some other domestic festival calls for ostentatious display. On such occasions the sums expended are sometimes of almost fabulous amount. Occasionally the expenditure of the wealthy capitalist is more judicious, and the erection of some work of general utility transmits his name to posterity as a public benefactor. The lower classes in towns are inferior to those of the country, and seldom lead lives so simple and blameless as that above ascribed to the village husbandman. Surrounded by temptations which they have never been trained to resist, they soon become a prey to them, and give free indulgence to their passions. Still, there are forms of vice from which they are in a great measure exempt. Drunkenness is almost unknown among them, and the use of other stimulants, though practised, is seldom carried so far as to produce intoxication. Naturally submissive to authority, they are not easily provoked to resistance, even when it has become justifiable, and hence never proceed to breaches of the peace, unless on very extraordinary occasions. Their ignorance and credulity, no doubt, give great facilities to those who have an interest in imposing upon them; and their childish fears and superstitions have often been worked upon by designing men to such an extent, as not only to tempt them into open resistance against regular authority, but to make them guilty of horrible atrocities. Mr. Elphinstone says, that “there is no set of people among the Hindoos so deprived as the dregs of our great towns;” but it may be doubted if he would have continued to retain this opinion had he lived to be a witness of recent events. It must now be considered proved, that beneath the exterior mildness of the Hindoo, a savage and vindictive temper too often lurks, and that at the very moment when he is making the strongest protestations of attachment and unalterable fidelity, he may be meditating treachery, murder, and every form of abominable wickedness.

Having taken a general survey of the Hindoos as they appear congregated in masses, whether in villages or in towns, we may now proceed to view them in their more private and domestic relations. The family arrangements of the Hindoos present many remarkable peculiarities. One of these is the very early age at which the family relation is formed. Mere boys and girls, who probably had never met before, are brought together as man and wife, by no act of choice on their own parts, but merely by the arbitrary determination of their parents. Previous mutual attachment is, of course, impossible. The parents, influenced merely by family pride, or some equally selfish motive, cause the marriage to be celebrated with a pomp which taxes their means to the utmost, and perhaps involves them deeply in debt; and the young couple are left to commence married life under the most untoward circumstances. It is true, indeed, that the youth of the parties makes it very unlikely that the affections of either of them have been otherwise engaged, and hence there is no room for the kind of misery which is entailed when, in our own country, forced or ill-assorted marriages take place. The Hindoo bride, in receiving a husband for better or for worse, without being consulted, only follows the custom of her country, and is unconscious of the injustice she sustains when the happiness of all her future life is thus sported with. If kindly treated by her husband, she soon becomes reconciled to her lot, and often repays his kindness by an ardour of attachment which errs only in excess. The misfortune is, that from the marked inequality of the parties, this kind treatment must be regarded as the exception rather than the rule. The wife of a Hindoo is rather the slave than the companion of her husband. She must not sit with him at meals, but remain standing ready to obey his commands. However harsh his usage may be, patient endurance is her only remedy. The law, so far from affording any legal relief, expressly declares that no degree of worthlessness on his part can either dissolve the marriage, or justify her in refusing to yield him the utmost deference as her lord and master. It must not, however, be supposed that the marriage is indissoluble. On the contrary, when the husband wishes to be free, frivolous pretexts are sufficient, and the wife may either be unceremoniously turned adrift, or subjected to the cruel degradation of seeing herself supplanted. Polygamy being legalized, the husband may choose wife after wife till his caprice or voluptuousness is satisfied, or indulge to an unlimited extent in illicit connections. It is impossible that, under such circumstances, any domestic virtue can flourish, or domestic happiness be enjoyed; and though many have been found ready to vouch that the evils which may be anticipated are not realized, there cannot be a doubt that the purity and peace of Hindoo families are sadly marred by the jealousies of rival wives and the jarring interests of their rival families.

The degradation to which the Hindoo wife is subjected is only part of a general system of treatment, adopted throughout India, towards all the female sex. Practically they are regarded as an inferior part of the creation. The birth of a son is hailed with delight, that of a daughter is not unfrequently received as a disappointment. At the proper period, most parents endeavour to give their sons some kind of elementary instruction, and hence reading, writing, and arithmetic are common attainments: daughters, on the contrary, are systematically excluded from them, on the barbarous principle, that knowledge in a woman is not only superfluous, but dangerous, inasmuch as it only puts her in possession of additional means of mischief. Under this idea it has even grown into a maxim, that an educated wife is unlucky. The consequence is, that even women who have received education are shy of owning it, and deem it necessary to protect their reputation by feigning ignorance. The degradation thus tyrannically inflicted on the female sex carries its punishment along with it, and all the more important domestic duties are imperfectly performed. Mothers, confined almost entirely to domestic drudgery, are unable to take an efficient part in the training of their offspring. The studied ignorance in which they have been brought up, leaves them destitute of the necessary qualifications; while the contemptuous treatment which they too often receive from the head of the family, weakens the authority which they ought to possess over its younger members. For a time nature may assert her rights, and give the mother the largest share in her children’s affections; but the bad example set them will be sooner or later imitated, and they will cease to obey her commands on perceiving that she has no power to enforce them. A tyrannical father, a degraded mother, and ill-trained children, are thus the natural results and just punishments of the barbarism which Hindoos display in depriving woman of her proper place in the family. It may, indeed, happen that the tendency to produce these evils is not realized. Many husbands may have the good sense to disclaim the superiority which they might legally assert; others, without directly renouncing it, may yield to an influence which renders it inoperative; and cases will even occur where the supposed superiority is reversed, and the husband is obliged to be satisfied with something less than equality.

The history of India furnishes many examples of Hindoo women who, by the ascendency obtained over their husbands or sons, have made themselves virtually the rulers of kingdoms; and it is not to be doubted that ordinary life furnishes numerous analogous cases, in which the wife, if not the actual head of the household, has at least her full share of authority. Still the general rule is unquestionable. Both by Hindoo law and Hindoo custom, woman is defrauded of her proper rights, and treated in every relation of life as if she were an inferior. When married, the inequality between her and her husband is marked, even though she should be his only wife, and it is almost needless to say how much this inequality and consequent maltreatment must be increased when polygamy introduces its abominations.

Before quitting this subject, it is necessary to mention, that among the Nairs on the coast of Malabar, a custom still more brutalizing than polygamy prevails. There marriage cannot be said to exist even in name, and the intercourse between the sexes is nearly as promiscuous as that of the brutes. Tippo Sultan did not inaccurately describe the nature and effects of this enormity when, in a proclamation addressed to the Nairs, ordering them to abandon it and “live like the rest of mankind,” he said, “It is a practice with you for one woman to associate with ten men, and you leave your mothers and sisters unconstrained in their obscene practices, and are thence all born in adultery, and are more shameless in your connections than the beasts of the field.”² Not unfrequently, by a form of marriage, the same woman becomes the common wife of a whole family of brothers, and even then is under no restraint in regard to other lovers, provided their rank be equal or superior to her own. Colonel Wilks, whose leanings are decidedly Hindoo, endeavours to qualify the common account “by the explanations of several highly enlightened correspondents, who have favoured the author with the result of their personal observations, after a long residence in Malabar, and who bear honourable testimony to the respectable conduct of the Nair ladies of Northern Malabar.” This honourable testimony, however, does not amount to much, since it is accompanied with the admission of an “occasional prevalence of lax morals, and a tendency to various intercourse;” while it is not attempted to deny that in Southern Malabar the worst that has been said is completely substantiated. The account given by Colonel Wilks (vol. iii. p. 7) is as follows:—“The parties are betrothed in childhood, and united at the age of puberty; but if, after a short cohabitation, the lady disapproves the choice of her parents, she is at liberty to make her own, by accepting a cloth (a dress) from the man of her own selection, and declaring, in the presence of four witnesses, that she discards her husband, and accepts the donor of the cloth; and this she may repeat as often as the donor of a new cloth can be found.” This attempt to give a veil to shameless profligacy is not successful. So little are the women accustomed to confine their favours to any single donor of the cloth, that the very idea of paternity is suppressed, and no child born is understood to have any certain father. The consequence is, that the ordinary rules of succession cannot be observed. Hence we are told that “the natural marks of tenderness and affection to children are lavished by the men on nephews and nieces, and scarcely ever on reputed sons and daughters.” While the latter are in all probability spurious, there cannot be any mistake as to the former, since the mother is always known. Succession, accordingly, takes place, not in the paternal, but the maternal line, and in order to secure something like continuity and purity of descent, the children of sisters are recognized as heirs. After contemplating a state of society so extraordinary and so revolting, one is startled at being assured by Colonel Wilks, that “the Nairs, or military class, are perhaps not exceeded by any nation on earth in a high spirit of independence and military honour.” Human nature is certainly full of contradictions, and the most opposite qualities are sometimes possessed by the same individual; but in such a monstrous state as that of the Nairs, even the inferior virtues designated by “a high spirit of independence and military honour,” must be of a bastard description. In them this high spirit seems only to be another name for pride; and we are therefore inclined to correct the eulogy of Colonel Wilks by the more credible statements of Dr. Francis Buchanan, when he says: “Their chief delight is in arms, but they are more inclined to use them for assassination or surprise than in the open field.” And again: “A Nair was expected to cut down a Tiar or Mucria who presumed to defile him by touching his person; and a similar fate awaited a slave who did not turn out of the road as a Nair passed.” It thus appears that the barbarism of the Nair was not confined to his family arrangements, but was conspicuous in all parts of his conduct. It has always been, and ever will be so. The degradation of the female sex may be regarded as the invariable indication of a state of society bordering on barbarism; and therefore, notwithstanding the high authority of Sir Thomas Munro, we cannot help thinking that he drew far too flattering a picture, when he described the treatment of the female sex in India as “full of confidence, respect, and delicacy,” and committed himself to the still bolder asseveration, that “if civilization is to become an article of trade between the two countries, I am convinced that this country will gain by the import cargo.” To show how ill this opinion accords with fact, it will be proper to notice other enormities caused or fostered by the place assigned to woman in the social arrangements of the Hindoos.

We begin with female infanticide. In almost all nations, before the light of Christianity has dawned upon them, the sacrifice of children to some grim and bloody idol has prevailed. India has certainly not been an exception; but the infanticide to which we now refer is of a different, and it must be added, of a still more revolting description, since the demands of religion are not pleaded in defence of it, and the only justification offered is an alleged expediency, in compliance with which infants who would have been carefully nurtured if they had been males, no sooner see the light than they are barbarously murdered, merely because they happen to be females. This horrid crime, of which parents themselves were usually the actual, and always the consenting perpetrators, has, we trust, been extirpated within the limits of the British Indian empire, government having to its honour turned a deaf ear to all the precautions which selfish policy suggested, and put it down by main force, where its own authority was paramount, and by means of persuasion and legitimate influence, where it had to deal with independent native states. Strange to say, the practice of female infanticide prevailed, not among the mere dregs of the population, but among the Rajpoots, who plume themselves on their chivalrous spirit, and are admitted on all hands to furnish the finest specimens of the Hindoo race. For thus systematically stifling one of the strongest instincts of our nature, the Rajpoot had no excuse to offer but the anticipated difficulty of finding a husband for his daughter when she should become marriageable. By the absurd and tyrannical rules of caste she could not be married within her own tribe, nor without it in any tribe of inferior rank. While the field of choice was thus artificially limited, she could not be permitted to remain unmarried, because a family with an unmarried marriageable daughter in it was held to be disgraced. Even if a suitable husband could be found another serious difficulty remained. The expenditure of the father of the bride, when the marriage ceremony took place, behaved to be proportionate to the position which he held in society, or to which ambition inclined him to aspire, and he was thus tempted to make a display which bore hard upon his means, or perhaps involved him permanently in debt, since, in addition to the expense of the ceremony, a handsome dowry was always expected. Hence both pride and poverty being arrayed against daughters, proved an overmatch for all better feelings, and female infants no sooner saw the light than the hand of the murderer was upon them. A bath of milk sufficient for immersion, or a bit of opium fixed on the palate to be sucked, were the means usually employed. It is scarcely credible that this inhuman practice could become established, without calling in the aid of some religious sanction, and accordingly in some districts the murder was represented as a sacrifice acceptable to “the evil powers.” In general, however, the plea of expediency was found sufficient, and Colonel Walker, who stands distinguished among those who have contributed to the suppression of the crime, found nothing stronger in support of it than such a legend as the following:—

“The Jharigahs,” he says, “relate that a powerful rajah of their caste, who had a daughter of singular beauty and accomplishments, desired his raj-goor or family priest to affiance her to a prince of rank and descent equal to her own. The raj-goor travelled over many countries without discovering a chief possessed of the requisite qualities. In this dilemma the rajah consulted the raj-goor, and he advised him to avoid the disgrace which would attend the princess’s remaining unmarried by having recourse to the desperate expedient of putting his daughter to death. The rajah was long averse to this expedient. The raj-goor at length removed his scruples by consenting to load himself with the guilt, and to become in his own person responsible for all the consequences of the sin. Accordingly the princess was put to death, and female infanticide was from that time practised by the Jharigahs.

The first official notice of this horrid crime took place in 1789, when Jonathan Duncan, afterwards governor of Bombay, but then resident at Benares, wrote to Lord Cornwallis—“I am well assured, and it is, indeed, here generally believed (and being so, it is my duty not to keep such enormities, however sanctioned by usage, from the knowledge of the government) that it is no unfrequent practice among the tribe of Rajkoomar to destroy their daughters, by causing the mothers to refuse them nurture.” Not satisfied with announcing and denouncing the atrocity, he lost no time in taking steps against it, and succeeded in obtaining from those of the tribe within the British frontier a formal renunciation of female infanticide, by their signature of the following singular document:—“Whereas it hath become known to the government of the Honourable East India Company, that we of the tribe of Rajkoomar do not suffer our female children to live; and whereas this is a great crime, as mentioned in the Brehma Bywant Purana, where it is said that killing even a fetus is as criminal as killing a Brahmin; and that for killing a female or woman, the punishment is to suffer in the naraka or hell called Kut Shutula, for as many years as there are hairs on the female’s body, and that afterwards such person shall be born again, and successively become a leper, and afflicted with the jakhima; and whereas the British government, whose subjects we are, hold in detestation such murderous practices, and we do ourselves acknowledge that although customary among us they are highly sinful: we do therefore hereby agree not to commit any longer such detestable acts, and any among us who shall (which God forbid) be hereafter guilty thereof, or who shall not bring up and get our daughters married to the best of our abilities among those of our own caste, shall be expelled from our tribe, and shall neither eat nor keep society with us, besides suffering hereafter the punishments denounced in the above Purana and Shastra. We have therefore entered into this engagement.”

Such an engagement, though certainly a step in the right direction, could not be very effective, and at all events could not be of any avail except in the tribe which had become bound by it. The subject, however, was lost sight of, and when again brought prominently into notice, owed it to the interference of Mr. Duncan. He had become governor of Bombay, and believing that the means he had employed for the suppression of infanticide when he was at Benares had proved successful, felt naturally desirous to use the higher influence which he now possessed in suppressing it among the Jharigahs of Cutch and Kattywar. In this philanthropic work he found a zealous and able agent in Colonel, then Major Walker, who entered upon his task with sanguine expectations that the practice as a deed of darkness would not bear the light, and that the fear of exposure would of itself induce a voluntary and speedy abandonment of it. He soon found that in cherishing such a hope he only showed how little he had sounded the depths of human depravity, and was obliged to confess that “sentiments of nature and humanity have no influence with the Jharigah.” When urged on the subject they had the effrontery to reply—“Pay our daughters’ marriage portions and they shall live.” Mr. Duncan was rather inclined to entertain this proposal, but the court of directors at once negatived it, justly inferring that the prospect of such a dower might tempt other tribes to acquire a title to it by the same atrocious means. Ultimately, not without reluctance, and after much mercenary higgling, a document similar to that above given was signed.

It was mere delusion to imagine that, because such documents had been signed and regulations passed for the prevention and punishment of female infanticide, the unnatural crime was suppressed. From time to time new disclosures of the frightful extent to which it prevailed were brought to light, and it was proved by statistical returns, that partly by murder perpetrated at the time of birth, and partly by the still more cruel practice of allowing female infants to perish through neglect, the proportion of female to male children was a mere fraction of what it ought to have been according to the well-known law of births. According to that law the number of each sex born is nearly equal; whereas among the whole Jharigah population of Kattywar, though exceeding 8000, not more than sixty-three female children had been preserved in the course of ten years. On some of the largest estates only one, and on others containing more than 400 families, not one female child was found.

The iniquity was too shocking to be longer neglected; but in what way was it to be successfully encountered? It was the deed of a moment, done for the most part in Rajpoot forts, in the recesses of female chambers to which no access could be had. By what kind of evidence, then, could guilt be substantiated? It was proposed to employ hired informers, but it was feared that such a cure might prove worse than the disease; and one of the ablest of Indian statesmen, while admitting that “no effectual check can be imposed on this atrocious practice, so long as it is so congenial to the general feelings of the people, unless by employing hired agents,” saw so many abuses in such a measure, as well as danger of disaffection from the intrusion to which it would lead “into the most private and domestic proceedings of the inferior castes (among whom alone infanticide prevails)” that he could only counsel patience. “We must therefore,” he says, “be content to follow the footsteps of our predecessors (without attempting to go beyond them), in their most meritorious endeavours to discountenance this enormity; and we may safely flatter ourselves, that as the manners of the people become softened by a continuance of tranquillity and good order, they will gradually discontinue a practice which is not more inconsistent with reason than repugnant to natural instinct.” There is reason to suspect that if this advice had been acquiesced in, the enormity would never have been sensibly diminished. A softening of the manners of men systematically murdering their infant offspring, never could have been effected by such inadequate means as “a continuance of tranquillity and good order.” The absence of these had not originated the abominable practice, and the presence of them had no direct tendency to abolish it. It is true that force could not be used, as the guiltiest of the Rajpoot tribes were not the subjects but the allies of the East India Company. This distinction, however, was technical rather than practical, and when the task of suppression was once undertaken in earnest many difficulties disappeared. As soon as the Rajpoot chiefs were made to understand that they must either renounce the practice, or be scouted by the Company as barbarians with whom they could hold no friendship, they became forward in offering promises and pledges, and not a few of them issued proclamations denouncing infanticide, and threatening it with punishment as a heinous crime. Something, however, was still wanting; and it is mortifying to think that these so-called chivalrous Rajpoots were never recalled to feelings of humanity and natural affection till they found that their interests would not suffer by indulging them.

The first great triumph over infanticide was gained in Western India, mainly through the judicious and energetic measures carried out by Mr. J. P. Willoughby, after his appointment as political agent in Kattywar. By obtaining an accurate census of the Jharigah population, to form a standard from which the progress made in future years in eradicating the evil might be calculated—by obliging the Jharigah chiefs, under a severe penalty, to furnish a half-yearly register of all marriages, births, and deaths within their districts—by issuing a proclamation enforcing the written obligation which had been given for the suppression of infanticide, and guaranteeing protection and reward to all who should inform against those who were guilty of it—by enjoining every father, on giving his daughter in marriage to a Jharigah chief, to stipulate in the contract that all the children born should be preserved—and by establishing an infanticide fund, out of which presents, pecuniary assistance on the marriage of daughters, and other benefits are bestowed on chiefs who preserve their children, the crying iniquity has been successfully combated. To prove that government was no longer to be trifled with in regard to this matter, several offenders have been tried and convicted. One chief was fined 12,000 rupees, and another, besides being fined 3000 rupees, was sentenced to a year’s imprisonment. Thus, both the hope of reward and the dread of punishment have been brought to bear powerfully on this great cause of humanity. In the “Infanticide Report for Kattywar,” in 1849, it is stated, that “The proportion of female children to males in all the tribes is now so nearly equal, and the progressive increase of the female population so regular, that if the returns can be depended upon in other respects, there would appear to be every ground for believing that the practice of infanticide must have become almost entirely extinct in this province.” From other quarters satisfactory results have been obtained. One monster crime, which, from the secrecy with which it was perpetrated, seemed destined to baffle all measures adopted for its suppression, has thus been grappled with, and if not wholly extirpated, been confined within comparatively narrow limits. At one time it carried on its murders by wholesale, and must annually have slain its hundreds, whereas now, if it ever finds a victim, it can only be by shrouding itself in the deepest darkness, and doing the horrid deed while trembling at the punishment with which it will certainly be visited if it be discovered. Here, then, is one point in which India has certainly been benefited by British ascendency. Murder in the most revolting form which it could assume—murder committed by a parent on his own offspring at the very moment when nature was pleading most powerfully in its behalf—was systematically perpetrated throughout whole provinces, by a class of the population to which, from its chivalrous character, such a crime might have been supposed to be most abhorrent. This atrocious system of murder, though fostered by pride and rendered inveterate by custom, has been all but extirpated by British firmness and philanthropy. The fact should teach valuable lessons. It should both moderate the eulogies of those who see so much excellence in Hindooism that they would have no objection to perpetuate it; and also encourage those who, aware of the enormities which it sanctions or overlooks, are labouring to effect its overthrow.

Another Hindoo enormity, only less shocking than infanticide, and of which, as before, woman was the victim, is suttee, or the burning of widows on the funeral pile of their husbands. Happily, through the interference of our Indian government, it is an historical fact rather than an existing practice; but it formed so remarkable a feature in Hindoo manners while it existed, and still excites so much interest, that some account of it is indispensable. The word suttee is a corruption of the Sanskrit sati, meaning wife or consort, and there is thus little difficulty in explaining how it came to be applied by way of eminence to the last and, as it had come to be considered, the most meritorious act of woman’s life; but the origin of the practice itself is variously explained. According to one tradition, the wife of Siva, and according to another, the wives of Brahma, set the example; the wives of some great rajahs imitated it, and the Brahmins, ever on the alert to turn every practice, however abominable, to profitable account, gave it the character of a religious act, by promising immediate bliss in heaven to those who performed it. In this way it became a vulgar belief that there was no mode in which a woman could so effectually honour the memory of her husband, and secure her own future felicity, as by refusing to survive him. This act of suicide receives no countenance either from the Veda or from the Institutes of Menu. On the contrary, there are passages in both in which the survivance of widows is evidently assumed, and in the latter work in particular the kind of life which they are to lead is distinctly prescribed. Still it cannot be denied that the practice of suttee is of very ancient date, since an instance of it is distinctly described by Diodorus Siculus, who wrote before the Christian era. At a later period it began to figure in the Puranas as one of the most meritorious acts of devotion, and thus resting on the same authority as many of the other superstitions of the Hindoos, undoubtedly formed an integral part of their religious creed. Though thus sanctioned, the practice of suttee never became universal throughout India. It is said to have been unknown south of the Kistna, and to have very rarely occurred in any other part of the Deccan. In the north-western provinces it was not uncommon, but its chosen seat was Bengal. Here, as if it meant at once to court the inspection and defy the censure of the British government, it was openly practised in the immediate vicinity of Calcutta.

Suttee by burning is impracticable where, as with us, the bodies of the dead are committed to the grave. This mode of funeral is not unknown among Hindoos. Men of the religious orders are buried in a sitting posture, cross-legged; and Professor Wilson has declared it to be “almost certain” that the ancient Hindoos “did not burn but bury their dead.” Hence suttee was sometimes performed, not by burning the widow, but by burying her alive. In modern times, however, the body is usually disposed of by burning. A man supposed to be dying is placed in the open air on a bed of sacred grass, or, if near the Ganges, carried to its banks; often in the latter locality, if death does not immediately follow, the relatives becoming impatient, depart and leave the body unconsumed, to be carried down the stream; but in general more humanity and natural affection are displayed. The sufferer is soothed in his last moments by the recital of hymns and prayers. As soon as death takes place, the body, after being bathed, perfumed, and decked with flowers, is carried to the funeral pile and stretched upon it, carefully covered up in all parts except the face, which is painted with crimson powder. In the south of India the procession is accompanied by music; elsewhere the attendants only utter their grief in short exclamations. The pile, usually from four to five feet high, and composed of the most combustible materials, is lighted, after many ceremonies, by a relation. Clarified butter and scented oils thrown upon the flames increase their energy, and the whole process is soon over. In a case of suttee the ceremonial was at once more minute and ostentatious. Its nature, and all the accompanying circumstances will be best understood from the following graphic description which Mr. Holwell has given of a suttee of which he was an eye-witness at Cossimbazar, when Sir Francis Russell was chief of the Company’s factory there, and Ali Verdy Khan was Soubahdar of Bengal.

“At five of the clock, on the morning of the 4th of February, 1742-43, died Ram Chund Pundit, of the Mahratta tribe, aged twenty-eight years; his widow (for he had but one wife), aged between seventeen and eighteen, as soon as he expired, disdaining to wait the time allowed her for reflection, immediately declared to the Brahmins and witnesses present her resolution to burn. As the family was of no small consideration in Cossimbazar, and her relations left no argument to dissuade her from it, Lady Russell, with the tenderest humanity, sent her several messages to the same purpose; the infant state of her children (two girls and a boy, the eldest not four years of age), and the terrors and pain of the death she sought, were painted to her in the strongest and liveliest colouring. She was deaf to all. She gratefully thanked Lady Russell, and sent her word she had now nothing to live for, but recommended her children to her protection. When the torments of burning were urged in terror to her, she, with a resolved and calm countenance, put her finger into the fire, and held it there a considerable time; she then, with one hand, put fire in the palm of the other, sprinkled incense on it, and fumigated the Brahmins. The consideration of her children left destitute was again urged to her. She replied that ‘He who made them would take care of them.’ She was at last given to understand she would not be permitted to burn. This, for a short space, seemed to give her deep affliction; but soon recollecting herself, she told them death was in her power, and that if she was not allowed to burn, according to the principles of her caste, she would starve herself. Her friends, finding her thus peremptory and resolved, were obliged at last to assent.

The body of the deceased was carried down to the water side early the following morning. The widow followed about ten o’clock, accompanied by three very principal Brahmins, her children, parents, and relations, and a numerous concourse of people. The order of leave for her burning did not arrive till after one o’clock, and it was then brought down by one of the soubah’s own officers, who had orders to see that she burned voluntarily. The time they waited for the order was employed in praying with the Brahmins, and washing in the Ganges. As soon as it arrived, she retired, and stayed for the space of half an hour in the midst of her female relations, amongst whom was her mother. She then divested herself of her bracelets and other ornaments, and tied them in a cloth which hung like an apron before her, and was conducted by her female relations to one corner of the pile. On the pile was an arched arbour, formed of dry sticks, boughs, and leaves, open only at one end to admit her entrance. In this the body of the deceased was deposited, his head at the end opposite the opening. At the corner of the pile to which she had been conducted, the Brahmins had made a small fire, round which she and the three Brahmins sat for some minutes. One of them gave into her hand a leaf of the bale-tree (the wood commonly consecrated to form part of the funeral pile), with sundry things on it, which she threw into the fire; one of the others gave her a second leaf, which she held over the flame, while he dropped three times some ghee on it, which fell and melted into the fire (these two operations were preparatory symbols of her approaching dissolution by fire); and whilst they were performing this, the third Brahmin read to her some portions of the Aughtorrah Bhade, and asked her some questions, to which she answered with a steady and serene countenance; but the noise was so great that we could not understand what she said, although we were within a yard of her. These over, she was led with great solemnity three times round the pile, the Brahmins reading before her; when she came the third time to the small fire, she stopped, took the rings off her toes and fingers, and put them to her other ornaments. Here she took a solemn, majestic leave of her children, parents, and relations; after which one of the Brahmins dipped a large wick of cotton in some ghee, and gave it ready lighted into her hand, and led her to the open side of the arbour. There all the Brahmins fell at her feet. After she had blessed them, they retired weeping. By two steps she ascended the pile, and entered the arbour. On her entrance she made a profound reverence at the feet of the deceased, and advanced and seated herself by his head. She looked, in silent meditation, on his face for the space of a minute, then set fire to the arbour in three places. Observing that she had set fire to leeward, and that the flames blew from her, instantly seeing her error she rose, set fire to windward, and resumed her station. Ensign Daniel, with his cane, separated the grass and leaves on the windward side, by which means we had a distinct view of her as she sat. With what dignity and undaunted a countenance she set fire to the pile the last time, and assumed her seat, can only be conceived, for words cannot convey a just idea of her. The pile being of combustible materials, the supporters of the roof were presently consumed, and tumbled in upon her.”

Another case in which equal resolution was shown, and the circumstances were in some respects still more affecting, is mentioned by Sir John Malcolm, in his account of Ahalya Baee, a Mahratta princess, who was daughter-in-law to the founder of the Holkar family; and, after the death of her husband and son, ruled their dominions for thirty years—from 1765 to 1795—with the greatest ability and success. Beside the son, who had died insane, she had an only daughter, Muchta Baee, who was married, and had a son, an only child. Muchta Baee, after she had been rendered childless, by the death of her son, became a widow, and immediately declared her resolution to burn with the corpse of her husband. After stating the circumstances, Sir John Malcolm continues thus¹—“No efforts (short of coercion) that a mother and a sovereign could use were untried by the virtuous Ahalya Baee to dissuade her daughter from the fatal resolution. She humbled herself to the dust before her, and entreated her, as she revered her god, not to leave her desolate and alone upon earth. Muchta Baee, though affectionate, was calm and resolved. ‘You are old, mother (she said), and a few years will end your pious life. My only child and husband are gone, and when you follow, life, I feel, will be insupportable; but the opportunity of terminating it with honour will then have passed.’ Ahalya Baee, when she found all dissuasion unavailing, determined to witness the last dreadful scene. She walked in the procession, and stood near the pile, where she was supported by two Brahmins, who held her arms. Although obviously suffering great agony of mind, she remained tolerably firm till the first blaze of the flame made her lose all self-command; and while her shrieks increased the noise made by the exulting shouts of the immense multitude that stood around, she was seen to gnaw in anguish those hands she could not liberate from the persons by whom she was held. After some convulsive efforts, she so far recovered as to join in the ceremony of bathing in the Nerbudda, when the bodies were consumed. She then retired to her palace, where for three days, having taken hardly any sustenance, she remained so absorbed in grief that she never uttered a word. When recovered from this state, she seemed to find consolation in building a beautiful monument to the memory of those she lamented.

In the above two cases there can be no doubt that the immolation was voluntary. The unhappy women, deluded into the belief that they could not perform a more meritorious act, courted death, and met it, without shrinking, in its most terrific form. This, according to ordinary ideas, was heroism, though, in strict propriety, there cannot be true heroism where the object aimed at is delusive; and the sacrifice made to obtain it is truly a crime. It is difficult, therefore, to admit the justice of the comparison made by Mr. Kaye,² when he says that “No martyr, in the grand old times of apostolic Christianity, died with a nobler fortitude, than often did these unhappy women, under the curse of a degrading superstition;” or to sympathize with the indignation of Colonel Wilks when he asks³—“What judgment should we pronounce on the Hindoo, who (if our institutions admitted the parallel) should forcibly pretend to stand between a Christian and the hope of eternal salvation? And shall we not hold him to be a driveller in politics and morals, a fanatic in religion, and a pretender in humanity, who would forcibly wrest this hope from the Hindoo widow?” Mr. Holwell uses language which is, if possible, still more extravagant; and after insisting that widows who destroy themselves by suttee, “act upon heroic as well as upon rational and pious principles,” and have their ideas “raised to a soothing degree of dignity befitting angelic beings,” appeals to the “natural goodness of heart, generosity, and candour” of his “fair countrywomen,” in the confident expectation “that they will in future look on these, their Gentoo sisters of the creation, in a more favourable and consistent light than probably they have hitherto done; and not deem that action an infatuation which results from principle.” In short, Mr. Holwell seems to insinuate that his “fair countrywomen,” so far from condemning or deploring sutteeism, might do worse than put it in practice. It was absurd to speak thus, even on the assumption that the self-immolation was always deliberate and voluntary; but the general eulogy becomes monstrous when it is considered that it frequently took place under circumstances which made it murder. Even in the above cases the active part taken by the Brahmins, who ought to have known that their own so-called sacred books gave no sanction to their conduct, and the exulting shouts of the populace during a scene which ought, at all events, to have filled them with pity, and awed them into silence, afford strong ground for suspicion: and it has been ascertained that in numerous other cases the most iniquitous means were employed to gain or force consent. Often by the use of opium the woman was kept in a state of stupor or intoxication by relations desirous to relieve themselves from the burden of her future maintenance, or seize upon the succession to her property. The consent to burn was thus extorted from her when she had been rendered incapable of acting rationally. Not unfrequently, too, when awakened to the dreadful reality by being brought to the pile, she not only hesitated, but endeavoured to escape; screaming for mercy, she was thrust into the flames by those about her, and violently held down, while the noise of drums and shouting multitudes drowned her cries.

The perpetration of murder under the form of suttee was so well known, that under the Mahometan government, though the burning of widows was not absolutely prohibited, restrictions were imposed upon it, and it could not take place till a written permission, presumed not to be granted without due inquiry, was obtained. The exaction of a fee for this permission was not unreasonable, but unfortunately, from the rapacity of the Mahometan officials, the temptation offered by the fee was seldom resisted. In practice the payment of the money superseded the inquiry which ought to have preceded it, and the permission followed almost as a matter of course. Such was the state of the law when the East India Company obtained the grant of the dewannee. For many years no change was attempted, or rather the subject was in a great measure overlooked, and the prohibition was enforced with even more laxity than in Mahometan times. Meanwhile the practice had never been expressly legalized, and it remained doubtful in what light suttee was viewed by the government. In an evil hour it was resolved to clear up this doubt, and a circular was issued, specifying the cases in which it would be held to be illegal, and punished as a crime. The inference was too obvious not to be soon drawn. If only certain special cases were prohibited, all others must be necessary implication be permitted. Under this injudicious sanction suttee increased. In 1815, the reported cases from Bengal, Behar, and Orissa were 378. In 1819, those reported for Calcutta alone amounted to 421, and those for Bengal to 650. The fact was at once astounding and humiliating, and public feeling, thoroughly awakened by the exposure which had been made, was no longer to be satisfied without the application of some stringent remedy. It was deemed necessary, however, to use caution. Some Europeans had, during a long residence in India, become, as Sir James Mackintosh expressed it, brahmized, and like Mr. Holwell hung, as it were, in a trembling balance, unable to decide between Christianity and Hindooism, and therefore not inclined to go further than to admit that each might be best for the countries which had adopted them. If the Hindoo widow thought she could gain eternal life by burning herself with her husband’s corpse, by all means let her have her own way. To prevent her by force would be intolerant and cruel. Others, unable to carry absurdity so far, did not propose the continuance of suttee as a benefit to the widow, but feared that by consenting to the abolition of it they might do serious damage to themselves, and to all who like them had a serious stake in Indian revenue. The women might perhaps not be displeased at the abolition of a practice which doomed them in a certain event to a violent and excruciating death, but what would the Brahmins say, and how would those men feel who expected by burning the widow to enrich themselves by her property, or at all events escape from the burden of maintaining her?

Alarmed at these and similar bugbears, the court of directors were afraid to give explicit orders on the subject, and though decidedly in favour of the abolition, shrunk from the responsibility of pronouncing for it. Governors-general could not reasonably be expected to be more resolute, and one of them, in 1827, when the subject was keenly agitated, returned to the stale advice which had been given in 1821 on the subject of infanticide, “I must frankly confess, though at the risk of being considered insensible to the enormity of the evil, that I am inclined to recommend our trusting to the progress now making in the diffusion of knowledge among the natives, for the gradual suppression of this detestable superstition. I cannot believe that the burning or burying alive of widows will long survive the advancement which every year brings with it in useful and rational learning.” Had this opinion been acquiesced in, Hindoo widows would have waited long for relief from a crying iniquity; but the next governor-general was animated by a more energetic spirit, and a regulation was issued, “declaring the practice of suttee, or of burning or burying alive the widows of Hindoos, illegal, and punishable by the criminal courts” throughout British India. As might have been anticipated, the regulation produced a strong sensation; and those who had prophesied mischief thought they were on the eve of seeing it realized, when a number of natives at Calcutta formed themselves into a society for restoring suttee, described by them as a sacred rite which had been continued millions of years under the four successive yugas. It proved, however, only an expiring effort, and was moreover counteracted by an address from a body of natives far surpassing the others, if not in wealth at least in intelligence, cordially approving of the suppression of suttee, and declaring that it formed no part of their ancient and genuine religious system. The native states still remained to be dealt with, and as nothing stronger than persuasion and influence could be used, the process of suppression was retarded by many obstacles. In these states proclamations have been issued condemnatory of suttee, and steps more or less active have been taken to suppress it. It were too sanguine to believe that they have always been effectual; it may even be questioned whether the princes who issued them have in all cases been sincere. Still, much has been gained by impressing on suttee the stamp of criminality. It cannot now be practised in the face of the sun, amid crowds of admiring spectators, nor be extolled by hindooized Europeans as an act done “upon heroic as well as upon rational and pious principles,” but must shun the light as a deed of darkness—a deed which when voluntary is mere suicide, and when compulsory is murder.

A third practice of a very singular and atrocious character—Thuggee—may here be mentioned, though, while it prevailed, it was not confined to Hindoos, but common both to them and to Mahometans. Indeed, according to the traditions of the Thugs themselves, they derived their origin from seven tribes who lived in the vicinity of Delhi, and were all of the Mahometan faith; but in whatever way the change was produced, the Koran was laid aside, and all their legends, as well as the superstitions founded upon them, savoured decidedly of Hindooism. There cannot, therefore, be any great error in giving a brief account of them in a chapter of which the manners of Hindoos is the special subject. Their patron goddess is Kali, the blood thirsty consort of Siva. According to the legend, Kali encountered a monstrous giant, every drop of whose blood as it fell became a destructive demon. The blood of each demon thus produced possessed the same property, and an enormous brood was generated, threatening the world with destruction. The evil would have been without remedy—for the more they were slain the more they multiplied—had not Kali fallen upon the notable device of creating two men, and giving them handkerchiefs or waistbands with which they were able to strangle the demons. As by this process not a drop of blood was shed, the race of demons, which could only be propagated by blood, was extinguished. The instruments of strangulation became the property of the men who had used them so successfully; and to make this gift of value, the goddess authorized them and their descendants to make strangulation their trade.

In accordance with this strange legend, the Thugs became hereditary murderers, and spread throughout Central India and into part of the Deccan. Though formed into fraternities by initiatory rites, and able to recognize each other by the use of particular signs, they lived as the ordinary inhabitants of the country, following the peaceful occupations of agriculture or trade. At the same time they had spies in all quarters, and were constantly on the outlook to entrap unwary travellers. When an expedition was resolved on, they quitted their homes, in bands more or less numerous, and, concealing their true character by various disguises, fell in, as if by accident, with the persons whom they had previously marked out for their victims. Being adepts in the art of lulling suspicion and winning confidence, they had seldom much difficulty in finding a favourable opportunity for effecting their purpose. On a sudden a strip of cloth or an unfolded turban was thrown round the neck of the unsuspecting traveller, tightened, and held fast till he was suffocated. Every one of his companions was murdered in the same way, and to remove all evidence of the crime, the bodies, after being plundered of everything of value, were carefully buried out of sight. Many other precautions, to insure secrecy, were employed. Possessing the most extensive means of information, they endeavoured, as much as possible, to avoid the risk of detection, by murdering persons who they had learned were not likely to be much inquired after, or soon missed, or whose disappearance would probably be attributed to voluntary flight. A soldier on leave was a safe victim. His family, not expecting him, could not be surprised at his not arriving; and when the leave had expired, his continued absence from his regiment would perhaps be attributed to desertion. It is true that the whole plunder anticipated was only the small sum saved from his pay, and wrapped up in his waistband; but it was enough to tempt a Thug, and the poor soldier was never again heard of. In the same way, a servant intrusted with treasure was considered a safe victim, because, though he would certainly be soon missed and inquired after, the conclusion would probably be, when no trace of him could be discovered, that the money had tempted him to betray his trust and run off.

The Thugs were not like ordinary bands of robbers, who, having committed crimes against society, or broken loose from its restraints, were brought together perhaps by accident, and have no common tie except the love of plunder. They formed a regular confederacy of criminality, and though not all of one caste, considered themselves entitled, and even bound, to follow murder as their hereditary trade. The feeling of guilt, and its accompanying remorse, was eradicated from their minds; and, at all events, if it happened momentarily to arise, was easily suppressed by the conviction that they could not avoid their destiny. With them, therefore, murder and robbery were not iniquities to be confessed and repented of, but achievements to be gloried in and merits to be rewarded. The more atrocious their deeds, the more approvingly did Kali smile upon them. The very name of religion was thus employed to give a sanction to Thuggee, and those who practised it were regular and zealous worshippers of their patron goddess, under one or other of her hideous and terrific forms. They held special feasts in her honour, and by making liberal offerings at her shrines, had little difficulty in bribing the connivance, and even purchasing the active co-operation of the priests who ministered at them. Before undertaking any expedition, they waited for some sign or omen which was thought to intimate that Kali approved of it; and when the atrocity was permitted, no time was lost in sending her an offering by the hand of the person who had thrown the fatal noose, and was therefore deemed to be for the time her special favourite. The greatest criminals have sometimes been known carefully to guard the purity of their own families, by keeping them in ignorance of the kind of life they were leading, or at least prohibiting them from becoming sharers in their crimes. Not so the Thug. His occupation had come to him by descent, and the son must do as the father had done before him. Accordingly, the domestic hearth of every Thug was a school of murder. The training commenced at the earliest possible period, and was continued without interruption till the course of education was completed. At first, the boy, kept aloof from the scene of action, was employed only as a scout. The next stage was to allow him to see the corpse of the victim, to handle it, and assist in burying it. By and by he accompanied the gangs, took part in the deceptions employed to insnare the traveller, and when the deed was done, was permitted to display his strength and resolution, by taking some subordinate part in it. Last of all, what had now become the great object of his ambition was attained, and he was intrusted with the application of the noose. Before he was thus recognized as a member of the fraternity, he received a formal initiation from some elder of the gang, who acted as his guru or spiritual guide. A kind of sacrament was administered, by giving the novice a species of coarse sugar, which was supposed to have changed its natural properties by a transubstantiating consecration, and become an embodiment of Kali herself. Its efficacy was irresistible, and the recipient could no more contend against it than he could against fate. “Let any one once taste of that sugar,” exclaimed one of them, “and he will be a Thug, though he know all the trades and have all the wealth in the world.”

“My father,” said another, “made me taste of that fatal sugar, when I was yet a mere boy; and if I were to live a thousand years, I should never be able to follow any other trade.”

The Thugs, besides gaining over priests and Brahmins to their interests, provided still more effectually for their escape from the hands of justice, by bribing the officers of government. In Western India especially, the subordinate chiefs and officials not only connived at their crimes, but regularly shared in their spoils. These often formed a considerable item in the revenue which they derived from their offices, and in order to obtain it, they even encouraged the Thugs to settle within their jurisdictions. The only stipulation was, that they should pay well for this protection, and not compromise their protectors by committing murders and depredations within the district. Provided they preyed at a distance, their return with the fruits of their atrocities was heartily welcomed by all classes. Bankers did not scruple to make advances on the security of the pillage which they knew could be obtained only by murder, and merchants regularly paid their visits to Thug villages at the period when the gangs engaged in distant expeditions, were expected to return. All classes, from the highest to the lowest, were thus leagued together, and shared without remorse in the proceeds of heinous crimes. In such circumstances, the detection of the actual criminals was difficult, and their conviction all but impossible. Those who, from their connection with Thugs, best knew the facts, intentionally concealed them, while those who would otherwise have been willing witnesses, were intimidated by threats of vengeance. Extensive tracts of country were hence roamed over with comparative impunity, by bands of professed murderers; and it was not until British ascendency was established, that any effectual measures could be taken to suppress them. It is impossible, from the nature of the case, to form an accurate estimate of the number of persons who must have been annually strangled. A native writer conjectures that it cannot have been less than 10,000. This seems almost too horrible to be credited, and yet well-authenticated facts will not allow us to assume a lower number. In the course of six years, during which our Indian government made strenuous exertions for the suppression of Thuggee, both within its own dominions and in native states, 2000 Thugs were arrested and tried at Indore, Hyderabad, Saugur, and Jubbulpoor. Of these, no fewer than 1500 were convicted and sentenced to death, transportation, or imprisonment. These formed only a portion of the whole fraternities, and there is, therefore, little extravagance in believing that they must have counted their victims by thousands. Happily, this other monster evil has also been successfully grappled with, and Thuggee, as a regularly organized fraternity of murderers, no longer exists.

Dacoitee, another form of crime, strongly resembling Thuggee, and only less atrocious, inasmuch as simple robbery was contemplated, and murder was not perpetrated when robbery could be effected without it, has in like manner been all but extirpated. The Dacoits, like the Thugs, formed a regular fraternity, and belonged to certain castes, which practised robbery as their hereditary privilege or destiny. It may easily be supposed that in such a state of society as usually existed in India under its native princes, these castes were not allowed to make robbery a monopoly. Many robbers from other castes were accordingly associated with them; and the gangs, thus composed, being somewhat heterogeneous, were not so strict in their superstitious observances, nor so systematic in committing crime, as the Thugs. Still, however, there were regular tribes who considered themselves born to robbery, and regularly trained their children to the practice of it. In their preliminary arrangements, they proceeded very much in the same way as the Thugs. When, after a number of religious observances, they had satisfied themselves that the omens were favourable, they set out in gangs, under various disguises. Their principal weapon was the spear, the head of which they carried concealed about their persons, while they were able to carry the handle openly, by giving it the appearance of a walking-staff. The object of their attack was not a travelling party, but some house, or it might be whole village, when it had been ascertained by previous inquiry that a rich spoil might be anticipated. On arriving near the locality, they separated for a time to avoid suspicion, and met again after night at some fixed place of rendezvous. At the appointed hour, usually at the dead of the night, they sallied forth, and suddenly appeared with flaming torches and glittering spears. Their measures were so well concerted that resistance was seldom possible, and the work of plunder went on without interruption. The utmost that the unhappy victims could attempt was concealment of property; but the only effect was to add bodily suffering to pecuniary loss, because the Dacoits were always ready, on the least suspicion of concealment, to employ any means, however violent, in order to extort disclosure. These midnight robberies, committed as it were in defiance of government, could not remain unknown; but from the connivance of officials who shared in the spoil, and the reluctance of witnesses, conviction could seldom be obtained. Ultimately, however, when by the establishment of British authority justice was more efficiently administered, Dacoitee yielded to the same means of suppression as were used against Thuggee, and its robber castes were broken up and dispersed. Robbery itself will of course always exist to a greater or less degree in every state of society, and in India derives particular facilities from the number of lawless characters who wander over the country as mendicants and pilgrims; but even in India it no longer ventures to indulge in wholesale rapine and in wanton cruelty. Though Dacoitee was understood to be sparing of bloodshed, it was at one period carried on with horrible barbarities. Torture of the most excruciating kind was frequently employed, and instances occurred where the victims who had been subjected to it were afterwards hewn to pieces, and suspended piecemeal as bloody trophies on the adjoining trees. Such atrocities serve to indicate the fearful cruelty which too often lurks in the heart of the Hindoo, and may be expected to display itself whenever, from any cause, his bad passions are fully roused; but it is certainly one of the greatest triumphs of our Indian government, that under it these atrocities, which were once common events, are now of rare occurrence, and that in many districts which used to be regularly pillaged by gangs of Dacoits, life and property have been made perfectly secure.

Infanticide, Suttee, Thuggee, and Dacoitee, the four forms of heinous crime which have now been described, though never universal throughout India, prevailed to such an extent in many of its provinces, that it was impossible to pass them unnoticed while taking a survey of Hindoo manners. Great injustice, indeed, would be done by hasty generalization, and yet it may, without any breach of charity, be concluded that the people among whom such crimes can take deep root, and be committed not only without remorse, but with some kind of religious sanction, are deficient in that moral sensitiveness which revolts at every outrage on humanity, and is quick to resent and punish it. Whether from natural temper or habit, cruelty in its most savage forms does not seem to be viewed by the Hindoo with any great degree of abhorrence. When he cannot be charged as an actual participator in the crime, he speaks of it in a way which shows that he neither is indignant against him who commits it, nor feels much pity for him who suffers by it. The doctrine of fate, carried to its absurdest extreme, destroys all moral distinctions, and reconciles him to every abomination as soon as he gives it the name of destiny. With this for an excuse, the Dacoit robbed and the Thug murdered without any feeling of compunction. Human life, too, was regarded with comparative indifference, and the loss of it, therefore, did not seem an evil of any great magnitude. If extinguished by natural causes, there was little occasion for survivors to lament it; if taken away by violence, it was perhaps viewed as an expiation which some god had appointed, and thus the crime of the murder was palliated by the imagination of some other crime of which it was presumed to be the just punishment. Suicide was in the same way not only justified but deemed meritorious, and the wife who lost her husband was deluded into the belief that she could not survive him without dishonour. Hence suttee was not only lauded as the noblest act of heroism, but even when submitted to with visible reluctance, or accomplished by open violence, was witnessed with delight by myriads of spectators. The deprivation of life assumed a still guiltier and more revolting form in female infanticide; but the transition to it from the other murders which custom or religion sanctioned was easily made, and the most chivalrous of Hindoo tribes were habitual perpetrators of the most diabolical crime of which the hand of man is capable. When all these things are considered it is difficult to resist the conclusion that whatever the Hindoo may be externally, his character is not accurately described when gentleness is said to be its most distinguishing feature. When from any cause his passions have been inflamed, and he sees a safe opportunity of resenting real or imaginary wrongs, he has repeatedly shown that no savage can surpass him in perfidy and fiendish cruelty.

It would be unfair, however, to found an estimate of national character on occasional outbreaks. During times of revolution, when great crimes are committed in any country, it is not so much the particular inhabitants as human nature itself that is in fault. At such times all self-restraint ceases, and in the course of violence pursued, there is little difference between the most civilized and the most barbarous nations. The worst atrocities perpetrated by the natives of India have been paralleled in countries which boast of being at the head of European civilization. It is necessary, therefore, to look at the other side of the picture, and after contemplating some of the darker spots in the life of the Hindoo, to see how he conducts himself at ordinary times, when no undue influence is brought to bear upon him.

Owing partly to physical temperament and the enervating influence of climate, Hindoos are generally listless and indolent. There is nothing of which they are more sparing than bodily labour, and hence every kind of work is portioned out as if for the express purpose of employing the greatest possible number of hands, and of course leaving very little for each to do. Examples of this minute subdivision are seen in all kinds of trades and professions, and are rendered especially familiar to European residents, by the number of native servants whom they are obliged to maintain for the performance of household duties. Distinctions of caste, prohibiting one individual from taking any part in what is regarded as the hereditary occupation of another, are made the pretext; but there can be little doubt that many of these distinctions are carefully kept up merely because they are favourable to slothful indulgence. As a necessary consequence of this disinclination to endure fatigue, the wages earned by each barely supply the means of subsistence. Lavish expenditure is hence entirely out of the question, since it is only by the habitual exercise of the most rigid economy that the Hindoo labourer and his family can manage to live. In their case, therefore, frugality, being compulsory rather than voluntary, cannot rank high among the virtues; and yet credit is certainly due to the lower classes of Hindoos for limiting their wants so as to make them proportionate to their circumstances. Instead of grumbling at their lot, or endeavouring to better it by dishonest means, they live contented in their humble huts, feeding scantily on coarse unleavened bread, with boiled vegetables, ghee or oil, and a few spices. Chewing of betel and smoking are their only luxuries, and drunkenness is of rare occurrence.

In the upper classes, where the means of indulgence are not limited by necessity, frugality is commonly practised from choice. The food is nearly the same, differing from that of the poorer classes only in the greater number of kinds of vegetables and spices, and in the cookery, in which asafoetida figures as a favourite ingredient, from giving to the richer dishes something of the flavour of flesh. On extraordinary occasions, however, the frugality usually practised is forgotten, and ostentatious entertainments are given. The apartments are then decked out in the gaudiest style, and the floor which, from the squatting posture of the guests, is the only dining table required, is decorated with patterns of flowers, formed by lively-coloured sorts of sand. When, on the approach of night, illumination becomes necessary, it is supplied by numerous attendants, who hold flaming torches in their hands, and keep them burning by pouring oil upon them from a kind of bottles with which they are provided for the purpose. Such entertainments would be considered incomplete without the introduction of nautch or singing and dancing girls, whose performances, though of an insipid and monotonous character, furnish the most attractive of all popular amusements. One of the heaviest items of expenditure is the number of valuable presents distributed among the guests. It is very questionable whether, from all the expense thus incurred, either those who give or those who partake of the entertainment have much enjoyment in it. So much importance is attached to ceremony, that it is difficult, without giving serious offence, to assign to each guest the place to which his rank entitles him; and even when this has been successfully accomplished, the rigid adherence to caste raises up so many obstacles to unconstrained intercourse, that social enjoyment is almost impossible.

On public festivals, when vast multitudes of all classes are brought together, a good idea of popular manners may be obtained. The misfortune is, that most of these festivals are more or less intimately connected with prevailing superstitions, and hence are seldom unaccompanied with exhibitions of a cruel and disgusting nature, such as have already been described in the chapter treating of religion. Apart from these exhibitions, which offend both the ear and the eye, the impression produced is decidedly favourable; and it is impossible to witness the happy looks and peaceable demeanour of the almost countless multitudes—their delight at the gaudy shows and processions—the keen relish with which they enter into the various amusements—and the total absence, not only of drunkenness, but of every appearance of riot and rudeness—without believing that they possess many good qualities, and if freed from sinister influences, would be simple-hearted, gentle, good-natured, and easily governed. As a specimen of the kind of festivals in which they delight, the Hoolee or Holi, as the most prominent, though by no means the least exceptionable, may be selected. Mr. Elphinstone, after referring to the sports “in which all descriptions of people eagerly join,” continues thus:⁴—“Perhaps the chief of these is the Holi, a festival in honour of the spring, at which the common people, especially the boys, dance round fires, sing licentious and satirical songs, and give vent to all sorts of ribaldry against their superiors, by whom it is always taken in good part. The great sport of the occasion, however, consists in sprinkling each other with a yellow liquid, and throwing a crimson powder over each other’s persons. The liquid is also squirted through syringes, and the powder is sometimes made up in large balls covered with isinglass, which break as soon as they come in contact with the body. All ranks engage in this sport with enthusiasm, and get more and more into the spirit of the contest, till all parties are completely drenched with the liquid, and so covered with the red powder that they can scarcely be recognized. A grave prime minister will invite a foreign ambassador to play the Holi at his house, and will take his share in the most riotous parts of it with the ardour of a schoolboy.” This description is undoubtedly accurate, so far as it goes; but to make it complete, it ought to be added, that it too frequently presents grosser features than any which Mr. Elphinstone has introduced into his picture, and that in addition to licentious songs there is much licentious practice. Drunkenness, though not an habitual Hindoo vice, begins to show itself for some days before the festival commences, and is more or less prevalent during its continuance. Bishop Heber says⁵ that “during all the time of the Hoolee, drunkenness is common among the Hindoos;” and in another passage (vol. ii. p. 66), thus alludes to a still more disgusting practice:—“I had seen very few drunken men in India before; but the time of Hoolee is now coming on, which is the Hindoo carnival, and in which the people of Central India more particularly indulge in all kinds of riot and festivity. The sepoys of my guard have begun to assail the women whom they pass on their march, with singing and indecent language—a thing seldom practised at other times.”

Some account has already been given of the domestic arrangements of the Hindoos, and it has been seen how injuriously the inferior position assigned to the wife, and the introduction of rival families by the sanction given to polygamy, must operate. It is alleged, however, that many of the evils which might be anticipated are not realized. Polygamy, though permitted, is too hazardous as a speculation, and too expensive as a luxury, to become a common practice; and in most Hindoo families marriage is just what it is among ourselves—the indissoluble union of a single pair. The superiority allowed to the husband is also said to exist only in theory, and the wife seldom fails to obtain her full share of influence. When the evils of domestic inequality and rivalship in the heads of the family are thus prevented or counteracted, the home of the Hindoo is happy, and many of the domestic virtues are fully developed. He treats his wife with a gentleness, and even delicacy, seldom equalled by individuals of the same class in any other country; dotes on his children, often carrying his fondness beyond due bounds, and spoiling them by excessive indulgence; and, perfectly satisfied with his own hearth, has no idea of seeking pleasure beyond it. Often, when the business of the day is done, he assumes the office of teacher, and is generally sufficiently qualified to give his children at least a smattering of reading, writing, and arithmetic. When, either from want of qualification or opportunity, he does not himself act as teacher, he is often sufficiently alive to the value of education to be willing to expend part of his very limited income in giving his children the benefit of public schooling. The means, though far from adequate, have to some extent been provided. In all towns, and in some villages, there are schools, where the teachers are paid by small fees, either in money or in grain and uncooked vegetables. The system of education pursued in these schools, so long at least as they were entirely in the hands of the natives, was indeed extremely defective, and aimed at nothing more than to communicate the lowest possible amount of human knowledge by a very rude process. No books were used. The boy (not the girl, for it must be remembered that the male sex only was deemed fit to be instructed), learned his letters by copying them from a board on sand, or on palm leaves. Reading and writing were thus taught simultaneously. Spelling and the rudiments of arithmetic were acquired by repeating syllables and figures aloud, after the teacher or monitor. In such a process, the exercise of memory alone was required, and all the other faculties were left dormant. Miserably imperfect as this instruction was, careful statistical inquiries proved that the number of boys receiving it was only a fraction of those of the proper age for school. In the Madras presidency, where the monitorial system, with which the labours of Bell and Lancaster have made us familiar, was in full operation, the number of children educated at public schools was estimated by Sir Thomas Monro at less than one in three. In Lower Bengal, the proportion was nearly the same. Thus, in those parts of the country which were admitted to be the best educated, two thirds of the children capable of receiving instruction were left absolutely destitute of it. This, however, was the most favourable view. In Upper Bengal, the proportion of boys receiving instruction amounted only to one in twenty, and in the presidency of Bombay varied from one in eight to one in fourteen.

Assuming that in such a Hindoo family as that referred to above, the children were privileged to receive this amount of elementary instruction, either at home or abroad, the domestic happiness which we have supposed might exist for some years without alloy, but sooner or later a change for the worse would, in all probability, supervene. In respect both of physical and mental qualities, the Hindoo appears to most advantage in the first stage of his life. As a child or boy he is often remarkably handsome, and in quickness of intellect is usually superior to Europeans of his own age. Unfortunately his passions also are more precocious, and are fostered by native customs, which force on him a premature manhood. He is married when a mere boy, and, becoming his own master before he can have learned the art of self restraint, too often gives way to vicious indulgence. The promise of his boyhood is thus belied. The enervating influences to which he is subjected suddenly arrest all further progress, and he settles down to take part in all the ordinary duties of life while destitute of the qualifications necessary to perform them aright. It is probable that, for a time at least, even after he has become the head of a family, he may continue to reside under the paternal roof; but his position is entirely changed, and new interests arise by which the former peace of the family is broken up. He was previously treated as a child, and could repay all his father’s fondness; whereas, he is now a man, possessed of rights which he is desirous to maintain, or it may be to overstretch. Family feuds consequently ensue. The father sees a rival in his son, the mother in her daughter-in-law; and what was formerly a peaceful home becomes a scene of brawling and intrigue. While the grown-up son insists on his legal right of control over the family property, and the father resents an interference which, if legal, does not seem the less harsh and ungrateful, it is well if the alienation is not carried so far as to hurry one or other of them into crime.

In conducting the ordinary intercourse of life with his fellows, the Hindoo does not differ much from individuals of his own class in other countries. It has been already observed that his natural timidity disposes him to pursue his ends by peaceful and too often by tortuous means. Where force might effect his object, he prefers persuasion; and where persuasion, fairly employed, proves unavailing, he has no scruple in resorting to any kind of cunning which promises to be effectual. One of the most singular methods, in which a species of compulsion less violent than open force, and yet stronger than mere persuasion, gains more than either of these singly would be able to effect, is known by the name of dherna. It is founded on the superstitious sacredness which attaches to the persons of Brahmins, and the consequent horror of being directly or indirectly the cause of their death. When a demand is not complied with, some Brahmin, either because he is himself the party interested, or it may be because he has been hired for the purpose, seats himself in dherna before the door of the person against whom the demand is made; in other words, appears with poison or a dagger in his hand, and intimates his determination to commit suicide if that person presumes to taste food before he has satisfied the claim. The only alternative thus left him is either to comply or commence a course of fasting. He might, indeed, set the Brahmin’s threat at defiance, but this seems too impious ever to be thought of. There is every reason to believe that the Brahmin would put his threat in execution, and would, in consequence, be honoured as a martyr, while his presumed murderer would be covered with infamy. Such a risk is too fearful to be encountered, and hence the almost invariable result is that dherna proves effectual. A mitigated form of dherna is sometimes employed to enforce payment of an ordinary debt. The creditor appears as before at the door of his debtor; but instead of threatening self-murder, simply intimates that he means to remain there without food till the debt is paid. As a point of honour, which it is deemed impossible to violate, the debtor must in like manner remain without food; and if payment is not made, the parties immediately begin to put their mutual power of enduring hunger to the test. This trial might sometimes prove elusory, and therefore the creditor usually makes sure that the fasting of the debtor is real, by cutting off his supplies. This kind of dherna, employed by troops against their paymaster, or the prime minister, or the sovereign himself, has often been effectual in obtaining their arrears of pay.

Dherna is, from its very nature, an extraordinary remedy. On ordinary occasions, when disputes arise, other means of settlement must be employed. Before British ascendency was established, the ordinary method of obtaining redress, more especially when the village system was in full operation, was by calling in the aid of punchayets, a kind of courts so called from consisting originally of five members, and in which the judges, selected by the mutual consent of the parties, were truly arbitrators. As such they were not bound down by formal rules, and were understood to decide in accordance with the principles of natural equity. Different opinions have been given as to the expediency of these courts, and the mode in which they performed the duties intrusted to them. As they were undoubtedly popular, it may be fairly inferred that they were on the whole entitled to public confidence, and probably better accommodated to native customs than any of the more regularly constituted courts by which they have been supplanted. It has, indeed, been alleged that they were open to undue influences; and, more especially in questions which affected the interests and inflamed the passions of the communities to which they belonged, were apt to disregard the claims of justice, and decide arbitrarily in the spirit of mere partizans. This, however, is not saying more than may be said of every institution under the management of Hindoos. One of the greatest defects in their character is a comparative indifference to moral obligations. Where they have an end to serve, they lose sight of everything but the means of promoting it. Truth and falsehood are thus regarded by them as mere names, and they will utter the one or the other with equal composure. This deadness of the moral sense operates disastrously in all the relations of life, and opposes serious obstacles to the administration of justice.

Though the Hindoo is not naturally rude or quarrelsome, and on the contrary is rather chargeable with carrying the forms of courtesy to excess, he is always keenly alive to his own interests, and when suspicious of any encroachment on them, is not slow in giving utterance to his feelings, both by words and by overt acts. If the supposed encroachment is made by one invested with authority, or greatly his superior in rank, fear of the hazard he might incur by boldly asserting his right will probably induce him to conceal his resentment, and seek redress by appealing to the justice and compassion, or otherwise working on the feelings of his antagonist. When not thus restrained by prudential considerations, as when he considers himself insulted or injured by an individual of his own class, the tongue is his favourite weapon, and there is no limit to the intemperance of his language and the violence of his gesticulations. His opponent probably defends himself in the same manner, and a war of words ensues. A spectator unacquainted with native habits would expect it to terminate in blows, but this is a mode of settlement not suited to the taste of the combatants, and they separate, each probably satisfied that his volubility has given him the victory. If the ground of quarrel involves some interest of which the law takes cognizance, vituperation is only a preliminary to a more serious contest, and a course of obstinate litigation ensues. In the mode of conducting it all the worst passions are brought into play, and too often everything like honour and honesty is thrown aside. The spirit of litigiousness once evoked gathers strength by continuance; and when at last the paltry question at issue has been decided, one, or probably both parties find that, partly by the expense incurred, and partly by the neglect of their proper business, they are hopelessly involved in debt.

Nor is debt the worst of it. An action at law in the manner in which the natives of India carry it on is little better than a public nuisance. In the statements made not the least regard is paid to truth, and the whole process degenerates into mere chicanery. For very paltry bribes witnesses are always ready to come forward and testify, with the utmost effrontery, in favour of the party who pays them. Even where the testimony is not venal, it is so conflicting that no dependence can be placed upon it. Each party is prepared with a most circumstantial detail of facts, and will swear without scruple to the truth of every iota of it, though carrying falsehood, and consequently perjury, on its very face. This enormous lying probably finds its fullest scope in legal proceedings, but is by no means confined to them. At all times truth seems to have but a feeble hold of the Hindoo mind, and any temptation, however slight, is thought to justify a deviation from it. So well, indeed, is this understood, that the imputation of falsehood is scarcely regarded as a reproach, and as Mr. Elphinstone expresses it, “the same man would calmly answer to a doubt by saying, ‘Why should I tell a lie?’ who would shed blood for what he regarded as the slightest infringement of his honour.” So many other witnesses, whose competency is indubitable, bear similar testimony, that this want of veracity must be regarded as one of the most prominent vices, or rather as the very besetting sin of Hindoos.

This vice, certainly one of the most contemptible of which human beings can be guilty, is to a certain extent the natural result of a bodily and mental constitution in which feebleness and timidity predominate. To speak the truth regardless of consequences is an act of moral courage, and where this courage is wanting, an attempt is usually made to supply its place by studying concealment. If by telling the whole truth offence would be given, or the risk of loss incurred, the objectionable part is kept back, and the rest is disguised in such a way as is expected to make it palatable. A vicious habit is thus formed, and continues to grow, till at last the lie comes to be in a manner loved for its own sake, and language, conferred as a crowning gift for the purpose of enabling us mutually to communicate our thoughts, is not unfrequently used as a means of disguising them. In so far, therefore, as falsehood is engendered and fostered by timidity, the Hindoo is, from natural temperament, under strong temptation to indulge in it; but this of itself is a very inadequate account of the matter. The want of veracity never could have prevailed among Hindoos to such an extent as to become a most glaring national defect, had they not learned it from their religious teachers, and been in a manner forced to resort to it as a means of self-defence against the tyranny and extortion of their rulers. In passages quoted in a previous chapter from the Institutes of Menu, we have seen it authoritatively declared that, “in some cases, the giver of false evidence from a pious motive, even though he know the truth, shall not lose a seat in heaven;” that falsehood may not only be spoken, but “is even preferable to truth,” and that on certain specified occasions “it is no deadly sin to take a light oath.” Such teaching, enforced by numerous examples in the lives of popular deities, and instilled into disciples only too much disposed to act upon it, cannot have failed to exert a disastrous influence on public morals. In like manner the despotic form of government, the frequent change of masters by sudden and violent revolutions, the rapacity of rulers, the venality of judges, and the general insecurity of property made the whole body of the population virtually slaves. As a necessary consequence they habitually practised slavish vices—dissimulation, fraud, perfidy, and falsehood. When nothing could be gained by adherence to the truth, and lying in some form, direct or indirect, was found to be the only resource against oppression and injustice, it is easy to understand how all the manly virtues disappeared, and a state of morals similar to that which prevails among Hindoos was produced. It is to be feared that, even under British government, the vices to which they became habituated under native and Mahometan rulers have not been materially diminished. The changes in the mode of administering justice have in some instances, by increasing the number and strictness of technical forms, given additional facilities to a spirit of litigiousness; while Europeans, most familiar with the proceedings of native courts, are almost unanimous in denouncing the venality of native officials, and the prevalence of falsehood in its most aggravated form of false swearing.

In concluding the survey of Hindoo manners, it is proper to advert for a moment to the singular contrast which they present, not only in different localities, but sometimes in the very same individual. The man who accepts a bribe will often, from a sense of honour, endure any amount of punishment sooner than betray him from whom he has received it; the servant who cheats his master in his accounts will faithfully return the last farthing intrusted to him in deposit; the Rajpoot, pluming himself on his chivalry and nice sense of honour, will, without scruple, and merely to avoid a contingent inconvenience, rid himself by violence of his infant daughters; the husband who treats his wife with harshness or indifference, as if she were an inferior being, will not only resent the slightest conventional insult which may be offered to her by another, but shed blood like water in avenging her dishonour; the coward who flees at the first sight of danger will, when a violent death becomes inevitable, prepare for it with calmness, and meet it with heroism. The number of singular contrasts thus presented is perhaps one great cause of the very different colours in which the native character has been portrayed. According to some, it includes almost everything that is amiable; according to others, it is little better than a compound of all that is diabolical. Proceeding on the ground that human nature, however much it may be modified by circumstances, possesses certain essential properties, we may safely conclude that both pictures are exaggerations, and that while nothing can be more absurd than to speak of Hindoos as if they were models of primeval innocence, there are many points in which they contrast favourably with other heathen nations, and even a few in which Europeans might profit by imitating them. The comparative facility with which some of their worst practices have already been suppressed certainly gives good ground to hope that the barriers to improvement, once supposed to be insurmountable, have been at least partially broken down, and that the degrading superstition which still holds their minds in thraldom, and is directly or indirectly the cause of all that is most offensive in their conduct, will itself be at length overthrown.

BOOK V

FROM THE GRANT OF THE DEWANNEE OF BENGAL, BEHAR, AND ORISSA, TO THE ESTABLISHMENT OF THE BOARD OF CONTROL, IN 1784.