THE HINDOOS AS THEY ARE

A DESCRIPTION OF THE MANNERS, CUSTOMS
AND
INNER LIFE OF HINDOO SOCIETY
IN BENGAL.
BY

SHIB CHUNDER BOSE.

WITH A PREFATORY NOTE BY
The Rev. W. HASTIE, B. D.,
PRINCIPAL OF THE GENERAL ASSEMBLY'S INSTITUTION, CALCUTTA.
_________________
London:
EDWARD STANFORD, 55, CHARING CROSS.
Calcutta:
W. NEWMAN & Co., 3, DALHOUSIE SQUARE.
_________
1881.
PRINTED BY W. NEWMAN AND CO.,
AT THE CAXTON PRESS, 1, MISSION ROW, CALCUTTA.
[The Right of Translation and Reproduction is reserved.]

CONTENTS.

ERRATA.
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Page 49, line 4, for "Butterfly," read, "Prajápati—the (Lord.)"

PREFATORY NOTE.

Babu Shib Chunder Bose is an enlightened Bengali, of matured conviction and character, who, having received the stirring impulse of Western culture and thought during the early period of Dr. Duff's work in the General Assembly's Institution, has continued faithful to it through all these long and changeful years. His extended and varied experience, his careful habit of observation and contrast, his large store of general reading and information, and his rare sobriety and earnestness of judgment, eminently qualify him for lifting the veil from the inner domestic life of his countrymen, and giving such an account of their social and religious observances as may prove intelligible and instructive to general English readers. In the sketches which he has now produced we are presented with the first-fruits of "the harvest of a quiet eye" that has long meditatively watched the strange ongoings of this ancient society, and penetrated with living insight into the springs and tendency of its startling changes.

Although I had no special claim to any right of judgment upon the present phases of Hindu life, the writer took me early into his confidence, and from the apparent quality and sincerity of his work I had no hesitation in encouraging him to persevere, recommending him, however, to leave historical speculation to others and to confine himself to a faithful delineation of facts within his own experience. While his manuscripts were passing through my hands, I took pains to verify his descriptions by frequent reference to younger educated natives, who, in all cases, confirmed the accuracy and reliability of the details. The book will stand on its own merits with English readers, whose happily increasing interest in the forms and movements of Hindu life at this transitional period when the picturesque institutions and habits of thousands of years are visibly and irrevocably passing away, should gladly welcome its fresh and opportune representations. And all who, viewing without regret the decay of the old order and animated by the faith of nobler possibilities than it has ever achieved, are actually engaged in the great work of religious regeneration and social reform in India, should find much in these truthful but saddening sketches to intensify their sympathies and give definite direction and guidance to their best efforts.

W. HASTIE.

The General Assembly's Institution,
23rd March, 1881.

INTRODUCTION.

In presenting the following volume to the Public, I am conscious of the very great disadvantage I labor under in attempting to communicate my thoughts through the medium of a language differing from my mother-tongue both in the forms of construction and in the methods of expression. My appeal to the indulgence of the public is based on the ground of my work being true to its name. It professes to be a simple, but faithful, delineation of the present state of Hindoo society in Bengal, and especially in Calcutta, the Athens of Hindoosthan. I cannot promise anything thrilling or sensational. My principal object is to give as much information as possible regarding the moral, intellectual, social and domestic economy of my countrymen and countrywomen. The interest attaching to the information and facts furnished will greatly depend on the spirit in which they may be received. To such of my readers as feel a genuine interest in a true reflection of the present state of society in this country, passing from a condition of almost impenetrable darkness to that of marvellous light, through the general and rapid diffusion of western knowledge, I do not think the details I have given will be found dull or dry. Not a few of the facts stated will, I fear, prove painfully interesting to those who are cognisant of the many incrusted defects and deficiencies still lurking in our social system. But if we carefully look at it we shall doubtless discover that it is not all darkness and clouds, "it has its crimson dawns, its rosy sunsets." The multitudinous phases of Hindoo life, though sadly revolting and repulsive in many respects, have nevertheless some redeeming features, revealing radiant glimpses of simple and innocent joys. In discussing the various social questions in their purely earthly aspects and relationships, it may be I have treated some of them inadequately and superficially, but in so doing I claim the merit of a humble endeavour after perfect honesty. I have in no wise exaggerated, but have simply followed the golden maxim of "nothing extenuate nor set down aught in malice."

The men of the land, and not the land of the men, form the subject matter of my work. My attention has long been directed to the domestic, social, moral, intellectual and religious condition of the Hindoos. The deep researches of European savants have from time to time thrown a flood of light on the learning and antiquities of India. We have every reason to admire the great truthfulness and accuracy of their observations in many respects. As foreigners, however, they were naturally constrained to pay but a subordinate attention to the peculiar domestic and social economy of the Natives. The idea of attempting a sketch of the inner life and habits of the Hindoos in this age, was originally suggested to the writer by the Revd. Drs. Duff and Charles—two Christian philanthropists, whose names are deservedly enshrined in the grateful memory of the Hindoo community of Bengal, the great centre of their educational and religious achievements. It was cordially approved by that high-minded statesman, Sir Charles Theophilus, afterwards Lord Metcalfe, who practically taught the Indian Public what a writer in the "Nineteenth Century" so aptly calls the great Trinity of liberty,—freedom of speech, freedom of trade, and freedom of religion.

To supply this desideratum, and not merely to gratify the natural curiosity to know the inner life of the Hindoos, but to do something in the line of social amelioration by "bringing the stagnant waters of Eastern life into contact with the quickening stream of European progress," have been the chief aim of the following pages. Should a liberal Public, here as well as in Europe and America, vouchsafe its countenance to this my first literary enterprise, I purpose to continue my humble labor in the same sphere, extending my observation, if advisable, to a picture of the social life of Upper, Western and Southern India. The vastness of the subject is one great difficulty. It will open to all civilized and philanthropic nations a wide and yet unexplored field for the exercise of their thoughts and sympathies.

To Europeans, and more especially to Englishmen, who have, for more than a century and a half, been the great and beneficent arbiters under Providence of the destiny of this vast empire, a correct knowledge of the domestic and social institutions of the Hindoos, is of the most vital importance, being essentially indispensable to a right understanding of the existing wants, wishes, feelings and sentiments, condition and progress of the subject race. Many erroneous ideas concerning the singular customs and observances of the people of India still prevail in Europe and America. They are partly due to defective observation, and partly to the prejudices of men whose minds are too pre-occupied to properly understand and appreciate the peculiar phases of character, manners and usages among nations other than their own. Such men are unfortunately led to associate the Natives "with ways that are dark and tricks that are vain." To remove the mass of misconception yet prevailing in some quarters by placing before the general reader a true and comprehensive knowledge of the daily life of a people, who occupy such a huge spot on the earth's surface, and whose numbers are counted by hundreds of millions, is indeed an important step towards the solution of a great social problem, and towards the removal of the gulf that divides the sons of the soil from the English rulers of the country. The tendency of close and constant intercourse is to promote an identity of interests between the two races. As a Native, the author may be allowed to have had the facilities requisite for acquiring a clear idea of the manners and customs of his countrymen, which may counterbalance in some degree the drawbacks and deficiencies naturally experienced by him on the score of language.

The Rev. W. Hastie, B. D., Principal of the General Assembly's Institution, and Mr. J. B. Knight, C. I. E., have laid me under great and lasting obligations by their kind suggestions and encouragement. I have particularly to thank the former for the prefatory note which he has written in response to my special request.

SHIB CHUNDER BOSE.

I.

THE HINDOO HOUSEHOLD.

It is my intention in the following pages to endeavour to convey to the mind of the European reader some distinct idea of the present manners and customs, usages and institutions of my Hindoo countrymen, illustrative of their peculiar domestic and social habits and the inner life of our society, the minutiæ of which can never be sufficiently accessible to Europeans. "It is in the domestic circle that manners are best seen, where restraint is thrown aside, and no external authority controls the freedom of expression."

I shall begin with a general account of the normal Hindoo household, as at once the living centre and meeting point of the various elements of our society. But as it is impossible to describe the manifold gradations of social condition in a single sketch, I shall draw from the domestic arrangements of a family of one of the higher castes and provided with a convenient share of worldly prosperity. Only the principal elements in the group can now be alluded to, and some of them will be described with greater detail in separate sketches.

The family domicile of a Hindoo is, to all intents and purposes, a regular sanctum, not easily accessible to the outside world. Its peculiar construction, its tortuous passages, its small compartments and special apportionment, obviously indicate the prevalence of a taste "cabined, cribbed, confined," and preclude the admittance of free ventilation and free intercourse. The annals of history have long since established the fact that the close confinement system which exists in Bengal, was mainly owing to the oppressions of the Moslem conquerors, and more recently to the inroads of the Pindaree marauders, commonly termed Burghees, the tales of whose depredations are still listened to with gaping mouths and terrified interest.

The gradual consolidation of the British power having established on a firm basis the security of life and property, the people are beginning to avail themselves of an improved mode of habitation, affording better facilities of accommodation and a wider range of the comforts and conveniences of life. From time out of mind there has existed in the country a sort of domestic and social economy, bearing a close resemblance to the old patriarchal system, recognising the principle of a common father or ruler of a family, who exercises parental control over all. The system of a joint Hindoo family[1] partaking of the same food, living under the same roof from generation to generation, breathing the same atmosphere, and worshipping the same god, is decidedly a traditional inheritance which the particular structure of Hindoo society has long reared and fostered. This side of the subject will be enlarged upon in its proper place.

A few words about the respective position and duties of the principal members of a Hindoo household will be in place at the outset. I shall, therefore, begin with the Kartá or male head, who, as the term imports, exercises supreme control over the whole family, so that no domestic affair of any importance may be undertaken without his consent or knowledge. The financial management, almost entirely regulated by his superior judgment, seldom or never exceeds the available means at his disposal. The honor, dignity and reputation of the family wholly depend on his prudence and wisdom, weighted by age and matured by experience. His own individual happiness is identified with that of the other members of the household. There is a proverbial expression among the Natives, teaching that the counsel of the aged should be accepted for all the practical purposes of life (except in a few unhappy instances to be noticed hereafter) and the rule exerts a healthy influence on the domestic circle. As the supreme Head he has not only to look after the secular wants of the family but likewise to watch the spiritual needs of all the members, checking irregularities by the sound discipline of earnest admonition. In accordance with the usual consequences of a patriarchal system, a respectable Hindoo is often obliged to support a certain number of hangers-on, more or less related to him by kinship. A brother, an uncle, a nephew, a brother-in-law, etc., with their families, are not unfrequently placed in this humiliating position, notwithstanding the currency of the trite apothegm,—which says, "it is better to be dependent on another for food than to live in his house." This saying is to be supplemented by another which runs thus: "Luckhee, the goddess of prosperity, always commands a numerous train." The proper significance of these phrases is but too practically understood and felt by those who have been unfortunate enough to come under their exemplification.

Next in point of importance in the category of the domestic circle is his wife, the Ghinni, or the female Head, whose position is a responsible one, and whose duties are alike manifold and arduous. She has to look after the victualling department, report to her husband or sons the exact state of the stores,[2] order what is wanted, account for the extra consumption of victuals, adopt the necessary precaution against being robbed, see that everyone is duly fed, and that the rite of hospitality is extended to the poor and helpless, watch that the rules of purity are practically observed in every department of the household, and make daily arrangements as to what meals are to be prepared for the day. The study of domestic economy engages her attention from the moment she undertakes the varied duties in the inner department of a household, the proper management of which, is, to her, a congenial occupation, becoming her sex, her position, her habitude, her taste. Independent of these domestic charges which are enough to absorb her mind, she has other duties to discharge, which shall be indicated hereafter.

The next chief constituents in the body of the household, are the daughters and daughters-in-law, whose relative positions and duties demand a separate notice. Viewed from their close relationship it is reasonable to conclude that they should bear the kindliest feelings to each other and evince a tender regard for mutual happiness, returning love for love and sympathy for sympathy. But, as elsewhere, unhappily, such is the depravity of human nature that the operation of antagonistic influences arising from dissimilar idiosyncracies, embitters some of the sweetest enjoyments of life. In the majority of cases, a nanad, the sister of the husband, though allied to another family, is nevertheless solicitous to minister to the domestic felicity of her vaja or the wife of his brother, but unhappily her intent is often misconstrued, and the sincerity of her motive questioned. Instead of an unclouded cordiality subsisting between them, the generous affection of the one is but ill-requited by the other. Hence, an unaccountable coldness commonly springs up between them which materially subtracts from the growth of domestic felicity. Shame on us that a vast amount of ignorance and prejudice yet renders us incapable of appreciating the highest end of the social state.

When the several female members of a household meet together, enlivened by the company of their neighbours and friends (such visits being few and far between), these first object of inquiry is generally the amount of ornaments possessed, their workmanship, their value. Few things please them better than a conversation on this subject, which from the absence of mental culture, almost wholly monopolizes their mind, despite the natural tendency of human intellect to a progressive development. If not thus absorbed, the time is usually frittered away by sundry petty frivolous inquiries of a purely domestic character. On matters of the most vital importance their notions are as crude and irrational as they are absurd and childish.[3] Except in isolated instances, their bearing towards each other is generally marked by suavity, and kindliness of manners which has a tendency to draw closer the bond of union between them all.

It is on such occasions that the amiable loveliness of human nature, is displayed,—brightening, for a time, at least the otherwise dark region of a Hindoo zenana and cheering the hearts of its inmates. In a thickly populated city like Calcutta, with its broad roads and dense crowds at all hours of the day, without a closed conveyance, either a palkee or a carriage, no married female is permitted to leave the house even for a single moment, for that of her sister, perhaps some three doors from her own. So great is the privacy, and punctiliousness with which female honor is guarded in the East. The sanction of the male or female head must, as a standing rule of female etiquette, be obtained before any one is at liberty to go out even to return a friendly or ceremonious visit. The reader may form an idea as to the tenacity with which the close zenana system in a respectable family is enforced, from the circumstance of a young Bahou or daughter-in-law (the rules being not so strict in the case of a daughter) being set down as immodest and unmannerly, if she were accidently seen to tread the outer or male compartment of the house. If she but chance to articulate a word or a phrase so as to reach the ear of a male outside, she is severely censured, and steps are instantly taken, to teach her better manners for the future. Even the Ghinni, or female Head, does not escape censure for a like offence. With such scrupulous pertinacity is the privacy of the inner life of the Hindoo society observed. A social line of demarcation is drawn around the zenana which a genteel Hindoo female is told and taught never to overstep, either in her conversation or bearing. Woe be to the day when she is incautiously led to move beyond her sphere, which, for all the practical purposes of life, is closely hemmed in by a ring of miserable seclusion, illustrating the scornful lines of the poet:

"Let Eastern tyrants from the light of heaven
Seclude their bosom slaves."

A few advanced Hindoos, more especially the Brahmos, who have received the benefits of an enlightened education, are making strenuous efforts to ameliorate the degraded condition of their wives and sisters (the mothers being too old and conservative to acquiesce in the spirit of modern innovation) and bring them to the front, if possible, by ignoring the rules of orthodoxy. But it is the firm belief of such as have been schooled by experience and observation, that the time is yet far distant when this bold, sweeping, social revolution shall be brought about with the general consensus of the people at large. The moral tone of Native society must be immensely raised, its manners and customs entirely remodelled, and its traditional institutions and prescriptive usages thoroughly purified before the consummation of so desirable an object can be successfully effected.

A Hindoo girl, even after marriage, enjoys greater liberty and is treated with more indulgence at her father's house than at her father-in-law's. The cause of this is obvious. From the very period of her birth, she is nurtured by her mother, aunts, sisters and other female relatives, no less than by her father, uncle, brothers and other male members of the family, all of whom naturally continue to bear her the same love and affection throughout her after life. A mother hugs her more tenderly, caresses her more fondly, hangs about her more affectionately, feels greater sympathy in her joy and sorrow, and watches more carefully how she grows up in health to her present state, than a mother-in-law. Whether she is eating, talking or playing, her mother's care never ceases. Should maternal admonition fail to produce the desired effect, as it does in a few isolated instances, the usual threat of sending her to her father-in-law's, acts as the most wholesome corrective.

The social relaxations of Hindoo females have a very limited range. Some delight in reading the Mahábhárat, the Ramayán, tales, romances, etc., while others are fond of needle-work, playing at cards, or listening to stories of a puerile description. Though they seldom come out of their houses, except under permissive sanction, yet their stock of gossip is almost inexhaustible. They are generally lively and loquacious, and the chief passion of their life is for the acquisition of ornaments. They possess a retentive memory, seldom forgetting what they once hear. Fond of hyperboles, the sober realities of life have little attraction for their minds. Their social tone is neither so pure nor so elevated as becomes a polished, refined community. It is almost needless to add, that their familiar conversation is not characterised by that chaste, dignified language, which constitutes the prominent feature of a people far advanced in the van of civilization. Objectionable modes of expression generally pass muster among them, simply because they labor under the great disadvantage of the national barrenness of intellect and the acknowledged poverty of colloquial literature.

It is a well-known fact that Hindoo males and females do not take their meals together. Both squat down on the floor at the time of eating. Except in the case of little girls, it is held highly unbecoming in a grown up female to be seen eating by a male member of the family. As a rule, women take their meals after the men have finished theirs. There is a popular belief that women take a longer time to eat than men. Of the perfection of the culinary art, the former are better judges than the latter. They chat and eat leisurely because they have no offices to go to, nor any definite occupation to engage their minds in. A Hindoo writer has said, that commonly speaking, they eat more and digest more readily than men. Naturally modest, they take their meals without any complaint, though sometimes they are served with food not of the very best description. The choicest part of the food is offered in the first instance to the males and the residue is kept for the females. A woman is religiously forbidden to taste of anything in the shape of eatables before it is given to a man. Simple in taste, diet and habits, but shut up in a state of close confinement, and leading a monotonous life, scarcely cheered by a ray of light, they are necessarily not receptive of large communications of truth.

The children form an important link in the great chain of the domestic circle. When sporting about in childhood they have commonly spare persons, light brown skins, high foreheads beaming with intelligence, large dark eyes, with aquiline noses, small thin-lipped mouths, and dark soft hair. The fairness of their complexion is generally sallowed by exposure to the sun in the earliest stage of childhood.

The child grows up under the fostering care of its parents amidst all the surroundings of the family domicile. As it advances in years the mother endeavours, according to her very limited capacity, to instil into its mind the rude elements of knowledge. From the incipient stage of early infancy when his mind is rendered susceptible of culture and expansion, crude and imperfect religious ideas largely leavened with superstition, are communicated to him, which subsequently mould his character in an undesirable manner. His early affections and moral principles are most entirely influenced by the impressions he receives at the maternal fount, and he seldom comes in contact with the outer world. He is taught to pay divine homage to all the idols that are worshipped at stated periods of the year, and his indistinct ideas grow into deep convictions, the pernicious influence of which can only afterwards be effaced by the blessings of western knowledge. In the villages "chánaka sloaka" or elementary lessons are still given as a sort of moral exercise. The mother from want of adequate capacity or culture is unfit to engraft on the youthful mind the higher divine truths, to teach the child how to look on men, how to feel for them, how to bear with them, how to be true, honest, manly, and how to "look beneath the outward to the spiritual, immortal and divine." Solid, practical wisdom, however, is often extracted from the most commonplace experiences, even by untutored minds.

"Honor thy father and thy mother," is the first scriptural commandment with promise, the importance and excellence of which is early impressed on the mind of a Hindoo child by wise, discreet parents. And Hindoos are honorably distinguished by their affections for their parents, and continue to be so even in the maturer years of their life.

In the case of a girl, even the most elementary sort of instruction is neglected except that she occasionally studies the Bengallee primer,—an innovation which the spirit of the times countenances. When of proper age, she is sent to a female school where she pursues her studies until finally withdrawn therefrom after her marriage. As a rational being she may continue to evince a natural desire and aptitude for intellectual progress and to carry it on by home study according to her taste and position in life. A few have made astonishing progress, despite certain formidable obstacles which an abnormal state of society inevitably interposes. The traditional bugbear of becoming a widow if she were to learn to read and write has happily passed away, not only in the great centres of education but likewise in several parts of the rural districts, where, to all appearances, females are just beginning, as it were, to assert their right to the improvement of their minds. This is certainly an unerring presage, foreshadowing the advent of national regeneration in the fullness of time. Many families being well-to-doin the world engage a Christian governess[4] both for elementary instruction as well as for needle-work, the latter being an accomplishment which even the most matronly ladies have now taken a great liking for. The introduction of this art of tasteful production has, in a great measure, superseded the idle, unprofitable gossip of the day, driving away ennui and slothfulness at the same time.

In almost every respectable Hindu household there is a tutelar god, chiefly made of stone and metal after one of the images of Krishna, set up on a gold or silver throne with silver umbrella and silver utensils dedicated to its service. Every morning and evening it is worshipped by the hereditary Purohit, or priest, who visits the house for the purpose twice a day, and who, as the name implies, is the first in all religious ceremonies, second to none but the guru or spiritual guide. The offerings of rice, fruits, sweetmeats and milk, made to the god, he carries home after the close of the service. A conch is blown, a bell is rung, and a gong beat at the time of the Poojah, when the religiously disposed portion of the inmates, male and female, in a quasi-penitent attitude, make their obeisance to the god and receive in return the hollow benediction of the priest. The daily repetition of the service quickens the heartbeats of the devotees and serves to remind them, however faintly, of their religious duties. Such a worship is popularly regarded in the light of an act of great merit paving the way to everlasting bliss. A suitable endowment in landed property is sometimes set apart for the permanent support of the idol, which is called the debatra land or inalienable property, according to the Hindu Shastras. Some families that have been reduced to a state of poverty through the reverses of fortune now live on the usufruct of the debatra land, which serves as a sheet-anchor in stormy weather.

Besides the daily Poojah of the household deity there are some other extraordinary religious celebrations, such as Doorga, Kali, Lakshmi, Jagaddhatri, Saraswati, Kartik, Janmáshtami, Dole, Rásh, Jhoolun, Jatras, etc., (the latter four being all Poojahs of Krishna) which excite the religious fervor of the Vaishnavas, as contra-distinguished from the Saktas, the followers of Kali or Doorga the female principle.

The internal daily details of a Hindu household next demand our attention. In the morning when the breakfast is ready the little children are served first as they have to go to their schools, and then the adult male members, chiefly brothers, nephews, etc., who have to attend their offices. They all squat down vis-a-vis on small bits of carpet on the floor, while the mother sits near them, not to eat but to see that they are all properly served; she closely watches that each and every one of them is duly satisfied; she would never feel happy should any of them find fault with a particular dish as being unsavoury, she snubs the cook and taxes herself for her own want of supervision in the kitchen, because the idea of having failed to do her duty in this respect is an agony to her mind.

As a mother, she avails herself of this opportunity to plunge into conversation, and consult her sons about the conduct of all domestic affairs, which necessarily expand as there are adjuncts to the original stock. For example, she takes their advice as to the amount of expenditure to be incurred at the forthcoming wedding of Sharat Shashee, the youngest daughter, in the month of Falgun, or February. This is an occasion, when the hearts of both the sons and the mother overflow with the milk of human kindness, yet there is a desire to avoid extravagance as far as possible.

A prudent mother wisely regulates her expenses according to the means and earnings of her sons, and she seldom or never comes to grief. The idea of an extravagant Hindoo mother is a solecism that has no existence in the actual realities of life. She is a model of economy, devotion, chastity, patience, self-denial, and a martyr to domestic affection. She may be wanting in mental accomplishment, which is not her own fault, but the very large share of strong common-sense she is naturally endowed with, sufficiently makes up for every deficiency in all the ordinary concerns of life. Accustomed to look upon her sons as the pride of her existence, she seeks every legitimate means to promote their happiness. If her daughters-in-law turn out querulous, and fall out one with another, which is not unfrequently the case, she reconciles them by the panacea of gentle remonstrance. But unhappily, such is the degeneracy of the present age that the influence of wholesome admonition being shamefully ignored is often lost in the cataclysm of discord, and the inevitable consequence is, that vicious selfishness disturbs Heaven's blessed peace, and "love cools, friendships fall off, brothers divide."

After the sons have gone to their respective offices, the mother changing her clothes retires into the thakurghar (the place of worship) and goes through her morning service, at the close of which she prostrates herself, invokes the blessing of her guardian deity, and then again changing her clothes, takes her breakfast and enjoys a short siesta, while chewing a mouthful of betel sometimes mixed with tobacco leaf, in order to strengthen her teeth.

In any sketch of a Hindu family it is necessary that something should be said about the domestic servants attached to a Hindu household. The cook, whose employment involves some very important considerations, may be either a male or a female. In most families, a preference is generally shewn for a female cook[5] for reasons which are obvious. The kitchen, being as a rule, placed in the inner division of the house, the females have an opportunity to assist her in various ways, so as to facilitate and expedite her work, which certainly is not always of the most pleasant nature. The dietary of a Hindu family, as may be easily anticipated, is of the simplest description, consisting for the most part of vegetables and fishes, with a little milk and ghee, but no eggs or meat of any kind. Not like the prepared dishes of the French and Moguls, highly flavored and richly spiced, the daily preparations are very simple; no onion, garlic, or strong aromatic spices are used. They are easy of digestion and palatable to taste, being altogether free from offensive and fœtid smell. The simple turmeric, pepper, cummin, coriander and mustard seeds, etc., generally impart a fine flavor to the preparations, which the frugal and abstemious Hindoos eat with great zest. I have known the wives of several rich Baboos, take a delight in preparing with their own hands the evening meal of their husband and sons. This is entirely a labor of love, which they go through with the greatest cheerfulness. It is necessary to mention here that without fishes, which are very abundant, a nice little Hindoo breakfast or dinner in Bengal is an impossibility. The art of cooking should not be a mystery to all save the initiated few, it should be the study of every good and thrifty woman who is willing to sacrifice needless elegance and pomp to comfort and economy.

This gastronomical digression will serve to indicate the taste of the Hindu in Bengal, and the very simple style of their living. Even in the selection of articles of food a nice distinction is observed; fishes are dressed in a part of the kitchen quite distinct from where the vegetable dishes are prepared, because a widow is strictly forbidden to use anything which comes in contact with fishes. Moreover, a widow would not accept a dish unless it is prepared by a real Brahmin cook, male or female. Should a male member of the family be ever disposed to eat goat flesh (he being forbidden to use any other kind of meat, save mutton, when sacrificed) a Sakta cook undertakes to prepare it for him. When finished, she changes her clothes and purifies her body by sprinkling over it a few drops of Ganges water. Excepting little unmarried girls, whose parents are Saktas (worshippers of female deities) no other Hindu female is permitted to use meat even by sufferance. In other rigidly orthodox families a similar concession is withheld.

The wage of a female cook, who in nine cases out of ten is a widow, is about six to seven Rupees a month, with a few annas extra for Ekadashi—the day of close fast for all widows—and cocoanut oil for her hair,[6] six pieces of grey shirtings each ten cubits long, and three bathing napkins a year. She also gets an extra piece of cloth at the Doorga Poojah festival, when the most wretched pauper, somehow or other, puts on new clothes. Some of the widow cooks have certainly seen better days, but the vicissitudes of fortune have made them hopelessly destitute. As a rule, they bear the load of misfortune with the greatest patience. They chiefly come from the villages, and it speaks much in favor of the purity of their character that they ungrudgingly submit to the menial offices of a drudge, instead of being seduced into the forbidden paths of life. Of course there are a few black sheep in the flock, but happily their number is very limited. A male cook is always a Brahman. It is almost superfluous to add that the employment in a family or the admittance of any man-servant into the inner apartment of a Hindoo household, which is emphatically the great centre, as well of domestic happiness as of religious sanctity, is open to many objections.

The second domestic servant that demands a notice at our hands is the Jhee, or maid-servant of the family. Her duties are alike onerous and troublesome. Like the potter's wheel she incessantly turns backwards and forwards and knows no rest till about ten o'clock at night. She rises early in the morning, sweeps and washes all the rooms and verandahs inside the house, cleans all the brass utensils of the family, makes fire in the stove, pounds the kitchen spices, prepares fishes for cooking purposes, and attends to other duties of a household nature. Some maid-servants are almost exclusively employed in taking care of children. Their duties are not so hard as those of the family Jhee indicated above. These females are often drawn from the dregs of society and their conduct, or rather misconduct, sometimes leads to the most unhappy results. Their wage is about two Rupees a month, exclusive of food and clothes. They occasionally also make something by carrying presents to relatives and friends.

I next come to the male servants: there are more than a half-dozen of them in a respectable family, and their services are in the main confined to the outer apartment of the household. They sweep and clean all the rooms, spread white cloth bedding on the floor, change the water of the hookah (the first essential both at an ordinary and special reception) fill the chillum with tobacco, kochay, or trim the fine black bordered Simla Dhuti and Kalmay Urani (Baboo's native dressing attire) put in order the lamps, and go to Bazar to make purchases. Their pay ranges from three to four Rupees a month, exclusive of food and clothes.

A rich Hindoo, however, has a large establishment of servants in addition to those mentioned above. There are durwans (door-keepers); syces (grooms); coachmen, gardeners, sircar, cashier, accountant, etc., each of whom discharges his functions in his own sphere, but they seldom or never come in contact with the female inmates of the household. The cashier is the most important and responsible person, and his income is larger than that of any other servant, because he gets his commission from all tradespeople dealing with the family. All of them get presents of clothes at the great national festival the Doorga Pujah.

The khansamah of a Baboo is his most favorite servant. From the nature of his office he comes into closest contact with his master, he rubs his body with oil before bathing and sometimes shampooes him,—a practice which gradually induces idle, effeminate habits, and eventually greatly incapacitates a man for the manifold duties of an active life. Indeed, to study the life of a "big native swell" is to study the character of a consummate Oriental epicure, immersed in a ceaseless round of pleasures, and hedged in by a body of unconscionable fellows, distinguished only for their flattery and servility.

Except in isolated instances, the general treatment of domestic servants by their masters, is not reprehensible.

Except such as possess a thorough insight into the peculiar mysteries of the inner life of the Hindoo society, very few are aware that a wife—perhaps the mother of three or four children—is forbidden to open her lips or lift her veil in order to speak to her husband in presence of her mother-in-law, or any other adult male or female member of the family. She may converse with the children without fear of being exposed to the charge of impropriety; this is the systole and diastole of her liberty, but she is imperatively commanded to hold her tongue and drop down her veil whenever she happens to see an elderly member in her way. A phrase used in common parlance (Bhasur Bhadrabau) denotes the utmost privacy, as that which the wife of a younger brother should observe towards the elder brother of her husband. It is an unpardonable sin, as it were, in the former, even to come in contact with the very shadow of the latter. The rules of conventionalism have reared an adamantine partition wall between the two. We have all learnt in our school-days that modesty is a quality which highly adorns a woman, but the peculiar domestic economy of the natives, carries this golden rule to the utmost stretch of restriction, verging on sacred, religious prohibition.

The general state of Hindoo female society, as at present constituted, exhibits an improved moral tone, presenting an edifying contrast to the gross proclivities of former times as far as popular amusements are concerned. The popular amusements of the Hindoos, like those of many European nations, have rarely been characterised by essentially moral principles. But the loose and immoral amusements of the former time do not now so much interest our educated females. The popular Native Jatras (representations) do not now breathe those low, obscene expressions, which was the wont only some thirty years back, yet they are not, withal, absolutely pure or elevated. It is true that some of them are touching and pathetic in their themes, not jarring to a moral sense but admirably adapted to the taste of a people having a supreme respect for their idolatrous and mythological systems, from which most of these Jatras are derived. The marvellous and the supernatural always exact an instinctive regard from the ignorant and the credulous multitude, destitute of the superior blessings of enlightenment. The Panchaly (represented by female actresses only) which is given for the amusement of the females, especially at the time of the second marriage, is sometimes much too obscene and immoral to be tolerated in a zenana having any pretension to gentility. On such an occasion, despite a strict conventional restriction, a depraved taste clearly manifests itself. Much has yet to be done to develope among the females a taste for purer amusements, and such as are better adapted to a healthy state of society.

In Hindoo females there is a prominent trait which deserves to be commended. Moses, Mohammed, and Manu, observes Benjamin Disraeli, say cleanliness is religion. Cleanliness certainly promotes health of body and delicacy of mind. When that excellent prelate, Heber, travelled in a boat on the sacred stream of the Ganges, seeing large crowds of Hindoo females engaged in washing their bodies and clothes on both sides of the river, at the rising and setting of the sun, he most emphatically remarked that cleanliness is the supreme virtue of Hindoo women. In the Upper Provinces, at all seasons of the year, hundreds of women could be daily seen with baskets of flowers in their hands slowly walking in the direction of the river, and chanting songs in a chorus in praise of the "unapproachable sanctuary of Mahadev, the great glacier world of the Himàlayà, with its wondrous pinnacles, rising 24,000 feet above the level of the sea, and descending into the amethyst-hued ice cavern, whence issues, in its turbulent and noisy infancy, the sacred river of India." They display a purity, a sincerity, a constant and passionate devotion to their faith, which present a striking contrast to the conduct of men steeped in the quagmire of profligacy.

Our ladies bathe their bodies and change their clothes twice in a day, in the morning and in the afternoon, neglecting which they are not permitted to take in hand any domestic work.

In the large Hindoo households, the lot of the wife who is childless is truly deplorable. While her sisters are rejoicing in the juvenile fun and frolics of their respective children, sporting with all the elasticity of a light, free, and buoyant heart, she sits sulkily aloof, and inwardly repines at the unkind ordinance of Bidhátá and earnestly invokes Ma Shasthi (the patron deity of all children) to grant her the inestimable boon of offspring, without which this butterfly life is unsanctified, unprofitable and hollow.

The barrenness of a Hindoo female is denounced as a sin, for the atonement of which certain religious rites are performed, and incessant prayers offered to all the terrestrial and celestial gods; but all her superstitious practices proving in vain, only tend to intensify her misery.

In the beginning of this sketch I set out by stating that the peculiar constitution of Hindoo society bears an affinity to the old patriarchal system. This is true to a very great extent. The system has its advantages and disadvantages, which are, in a great measure, inseparable from the outgrowth of the social organism. If properly weighed in the scale, the latter will most assuredly counterbalance the former, so much so, that in the great majority of cases, discord and disquietude is the inevitable result of joint fraternisation. Leadership is certainly organisation; it formed the nucleus of the patriarchal system. But it is simply absurd to expect that there should always be a happy marriage of minds in all cases, between so many men and women living together, endowed with different degrees of culture and influenced by adverse interests and sentiments. In the nature of things, it is impossible that all the members of a large family, having separate and specific objects of their own, should coalesce and cordially co-operate to promote the general welfare of a family, under a common leader or head. The millennium is not yet come. Seven brothers living together with their wives and children under one and the same paternal roof, cannot reasonably be expected to abide in a state of perfect harmony so long as selfishness and incongruous tastes and interests are continually at work to sap the very foundation of friendliness and good fellowship. Union is strength, but harmonious union under the peculiar regime indicated above, is already a remarkable exception in the present state of Hindoo society. If minutely probed, it will be found that women are at the bottom of that mischievous discord, which eats into the very vitals of domestic felicity. Segregation, therefore, is the only means that promises to afford a relief from this social incubus; and to segregation many families have now resorted, much after the fashion of the dominant race, with a view to the uninterrupted enjoyment of domestic happiness.

Having briefly indicated in the preceding lines the chief family constituents of a Hindoo household in their several relations and characteristics, it is scarcely necessary for me to add, that whenever this interesting group, consisting of sweet children, loving husbands and wives, and affectionate parents and brothers, is animated by the vital, indestructible principles of virtue, practically recognising the obligations of duty, the divinity of conscience, and the moral connection of the present and future life, it will be found to diffuse all the blessings of peace, joy and moral order around the social and domestic hearth.

II.

THE BIRTH OF A HINDOO.

The birth of a Hindoo into the household of which he is to form an essential constituent is attended with circumstances which partake, more or less, of the religion he inherits. It has been said that by tradition and instinct as well as by early habits, he is a religious character. He is born religiously, lives religiously, eats religiously, walks religiously, writes religiously, sleeps religiously and dies religiously. His every-day life is an endless succession of rites and ceremonies which he observes with the utmost of scrupulousness sanctioned by divine veneration. From his very birth his mind is imbued with superstitious ideas, which subsequent mental culture can hardly ever eradicate, so strong being the influence of his early impressions.

It is now generally known that Hindoo girls are betrothed even in their tenderest years, and that the solemnisation of the marriage takes place whenever they attain to the age of puberty. Thus it is not uncommon for a young wife to be delivered of her first child in her thirteenth year, although the glory of motherhood is more frequently not realised until the fourteenth or fifteenth year. When the period of delivery arrives, and to her it is an awful period, which can be more easily conceived than described, the girl writhing under agony is taken into a room called Sootikaghur or Antoorghur, where no male members of the family are admitted. She is made to wear a red-bordered robe and two images of the goddess Shashthi made of cowdung are placed near the threshold of the room for her daily worship with rice and durva grass, for one month—the period of her confinement. If in her tender age, the labor be a protracted one, she often suffers greatly from the want of a skilful surgeon or even a proper midwife. Before the founding of that noble Institution, the Calcutta Medical College, proper midwives were not procurable, because they had had no systematic training; their profession was chiefly confined to the Dome and Bagthee caste, yet some of them were known to have acquired a tolerable fortune. Their fee varied from 5 to 50 Rupees, besides clothes and other gifts; the poor, certainly, giving less. For some years past, a strong belief has sprung up among some women that delivery in the name of god Hari Krishna is very safe. They that follow this religious regime, are believed, in the majority of cases, to have passed through the struggle of childbirth quite scathless. They use no jhall or thap,[7] bathe in cold water immediately after delivery, take the ordinary food of dhall vath, curry, fish and tamarind, after offering them to the god Hari, and on the 30th day make a Poojah (worship) consecrating in honor of the god a quantity of sweetmeats (sundesh and batasha) and finally distribute them among children and others. This distribution is called Hariloot. This strong faith in the god seems to enable them to pass the period of confinement without danger. If the offspring of such women become strong, their strength is attributed to the mercy of the said god.[8]

A woman that follows the old prescribed practice has to take jhall and thap and go through a strict course of dietetics, abstaining altogether from the use of cold water or any cooling beverage. She has to undergo the action of heat for at least five hours a day. The body and head of the newborn babe is rubbed with warm mustard oil—an application which is considered the best preservative of health in children. Exposure of the mother in any shape, is most strictly prohibited, and the use of certain indigenous drugs and warm applications is made as an antidote against all diseases of a puerperal character.

While undergoing the throes of nature, the exhausted spirit of the expectant mother is buoyed up by the fond hope of having a male child, which, in the estimation of a Hindoo female, is worth a world of suffering.

In the event of the offspring turning out a female, her friends try to encourage her for the moment by their assurance that the child born is a male, and a lovely and sweet child, ushered into the world under the peculiar auspices of the goddess Shasthi. Such assurances serve very much to keep up her spirit for the time being, but when she is brought to her senses and does not hear the sound of a conch[9] her delusion is removed, sorrow and disappointment take the place of joy and excitement, her buoyant spirit collapses and a strong reaction sets in. Thus in a moment, a grace is converted into a gorgon, a beauty into a monstrosity, an angel into a fiend. She curses the day, she curses her fate. But "such is the make and mechanism of human nature" that she soon resigns herself to the wise dispensations of an overruling Providence. She gradually feels a strong affection for the female child and rears it with all the care and tenderness of a mother; she caresses and fondles it as if it were a boy, and her affection grows warmer as the child grows. This is natural and inevitable. At the birth of a male child, the occurrence is immediately announced by sanka dhani (sound of a conch); musicians without being sent for, come and play the tom tom; the family barber bears the happy tidings to all the nearest relatives, and he is rewarded with presents of money and cloths. Oil, sweetmeats, fishes, curdled milk, and other things, are presented to the relatives and neighbours, who, in return, offer their congratulations. A rich Hindoo, though he studies practical domestic economy very carefully, is, however, apt to loosen his purse string at the birth of a son and heir. The mother forgetting her trouble and agony implores Bidhátá[10] for the longevity of the child. She cheerfully suckles it and her heart swells with joy every time she looks at its face.

On the second day after delivery, she gets a little sago and cheeray vájáh (a sort of parched rice). On the third day the same diet, with the addition of a single grain of boiled rice, and a little fried potatoe or pull bull, that she may use those things afterwards with safety. On the fifth day, if everything is right, the room is washed and she is allowed to come out of it for a short time; a little boiled rice and moong dhall is her diet that day.

On the sixth day, the image of the goddess Shasthi is worshipped in front of the room where the child was born,h because she is the protectress of all children. The Poojah is called the Seytayra Poojah (worship). Offerings of rice, plantain, sweetmeat, clothes, milk, &c., are presented to the goddess by the officiating priest, and the following articles are kept in her room for the Bidhátá Pooroosh (god of fate) in order that he may note down unseen on the forehead of the child its future destiny, viz., a palm leaf, a Bengalee pen with ink, a serpent's skin, a brick from the temple of the god Shiva, and two kinds of fruits, atmora and veyla, a little wool, gold and silver. On the eighth day is held the ceremony of Autcowroy, or the distribution of eight kinds of parched peas, rice, sweetmeats, with cowries and pice, amongst the children of the house and neighbourhood. On the evening of that day, the children assemble and with a Koolo (winnowing fan) going up three times to the door of the room beat it (the koolo) with small sticks, asking at the same in a chorus "as to how the child is doing," and shouting, "let it rest in peace on the lap of its mother." These juvenile ceremonies, if ceremonies they can be called, give infinite delight to the children, who are sometimes prompted by the adult members of the family to indulge in jocularity by way of abusing the father, not of course to irritate but to amuse him. At the birth of a female child, in common with the depreciation in which it is held, this ceremony is observed on a very poor scale. On the thirty-first day after the birth, the ceremony of Shasthi Poojah is again performed. Hence a woman who has had as many as twelve or fifteen or more children, is called the Shasthi Booree, or "the old woman of Shasthi." Before a twig of a Bátá tree, the priest, while repeating the usual incantation, presents offerings of rice, fruits, sweetmeats, cloths, parched peas and rice, oil, turmeric, betel, betel-nuts, two eggs of a duck, and twenty-one small wicker baskets filled with khoyee (parched rice) plantain and bátásá, which are all given to a number of women whose husbands are alive. It is on this occasion that the priest is also required to perform the worship of the goddess Soobachinee,[11] said to be one of the forms of the goddess Doorga.

When the father first goes to see the child, he puts some gold coin into its hand and pours his benediction on its head. Other relatives who may be present at the time do the same.

All respectable Hindoos keep an exact record of the birth of a child, especially a male child. Every family has its Dowyboghee or astrologer who prepares a horoscope in which he notes down the day, the hour and the minute of the birth of the child, opens the roll of its fate and describes what shall happen to it during the period of its existence. These horoscopes are so much relied on, that if it is stated therein that the stellar mansion under which the child was born was not good, and that it shall be exposed to serious dangers, either from sickness or accident, at such a period of its life, every possible care is taken through Grohojag and Sustyan (religious atonement) to propitiate the god of fate, and ward off the apprehended danger before it comes to pass. These papers are carefully preserved by the parents, who occasionally refer to them when anything, good or evil, happens to the child. A Hindoo astrologer is a man of high pretensions; he dives into the womb of futurity and foretells what shall happen to a man in this life, without thinking for a moment, that our Creator has not vouchsafed to us the powers of divination. In a court of justice these papers are of great value in verifying the exact age of a person, and at the time of marriage, or rather before it, they are carefully consulted as to the nature of the stellar mansion under which both the boy and girl were born, and the peculiar circumstances by which they were surrounded. Many a match is broken off because the twelve signs in the zodiac do not coincide; for instance, if the boy be of the Lion rass (sign) and the girl of the Lamb rass, the one, it is said, will destroy the other; so these papers are of very great importance when a matrimonial alliance is in course of being negotiated.

When a male child is six months old, the parents make preparations for the celebration of the Unnoprássun, or christening, when not only a name is given to the child, but it gets boiled rice for the first time. On this occasion, the father is required to perform a Bidhi Shrád so called from the increase and preservation of the members of the family. Some who live near Calcutta celebrate the rite by going to Kallee Ghaut, and procuring a little boiled rice through one of the priests of the sacred fane at a cost of eight or ten Rupees. When the rice is brought home a few grains are put into the mouth of the child by a male member of the family. The ceremony being thus performed the child from that day is allowed to take prepared food if necessary. Such families as do not choose to go to Kallee Ghaut observe the ceremony at home, and spend from 200 to 300 Rupees in feeding the Brahmans, friends and relatives, who, in return, offer their benediction and give from one to ten Rupees each to the child, which being shaved, clad in a silk garment, and adorned with gold ornaments, is brought out for the purpose after the entertainment. It is on such occasions that splendid dowries are settled on some children in grants of land or of Government securities, and I have known instances in which a dowry amounted to a lakh of Rupees. Of late years, the practice of making gifts to the child being held in the obnoxious light of a tax, the good taste of some has led them to confine the rite within the circumscribed limit of their own family. Superstition has its influence in making the choice of the name given to the child. The Hindoos are generally named after their gods and goddesses, under a belief that the repetition of such names in the daily intercourse of life will not only absolve them from sins, but give them present happiness and hope of blessedness in a state of endless duration. Some parents purposely give an unpleasant name to a child, that may be born after repeated bereavements, believing thereby the curses of the wicked shall fall innocuous on its head. Such names are Nafar, Goburdhone, Ghooie, Tincurry, Panchcurry, Dookhi, &c. In the case of females, she who has many daughters, and does not wish for more, gives them such names as Khaynto (cessation,) Arná (no more,) Ghyrná (despised,) Chee chee (expression of contempt.)[12]

Except under extraordinary circumstances, a Hindoo mother[13] seldom engages a wet nurse; she continues to suckle her child till it is three or four years old, and attends at the same time to her numerous household duties, which are by no means light or easy. Indolent loveliness, reclining on a sofa, is not a truthful picture of her life; it may be she has to cook for her husband, because he is such an orthodox Hindoo that he will on no account accept prepared food (such as rice, dhall, vegetables, curry, &c.) from any other hand. In such families, the woman has to rise very early, perform her daily ablutions and attend to the duties of the kitchen, and before nine the breakfast must be ready, as the husband has probably to attend his office at ten. It is not an uncommon sight to see a woman cooking, suckling her child, and scolding her maid servant at one and the same time. A Hindoo woman is not only laborious, but patient and submissive to a degree; let the amount of privation be ever so great, she is seldom known to murmur or complain. All her happiness is centred in the proper discharge of her domestic and social duties. So simple and unambitious is a Hindoo female, that she generally considers herself amply rewarded if the food prepared by her hands is appreciated by those for whom it is intended. It is a lamentable fact that, expert as she doubtless is in the art of cooking, she is totally incapable of nourishing the minds of her children with any solid intellectual food worthy of the name. As already indicated, she communicates to her child what she can out of her own store of simple ideas and superstitious beliefs, but her best gift is the care and tenderness which she lavishes upon it, and the wakening of its young soul to return the sense of her own love.

III.

THE HINDOO SCHOOL BOY.

From the time when the young Hindoo passes from the infant stage of "mewling and puking in the nurse's arms," till he goes to school, he is generally a bright-eyed, active, playful boy, full of romping spirits and a favourite of all around him. His diet is light, and his health generally good. He usually runs about for three or four years in puris naturalibus, and among the lower classes a string is tied round his loins with a metal charm attached to frighten away the evil spirits. When he attains the age of five, the period fixed by his parents for the beginning of his education, he is sent to a Pátsálá (vernacular infant school) not, however, without making a Poojah to Saraswattee, the goddess of learning. On the day appointed, and it must be a lucky day, according to the Hindoo almanac, the child bathes and puts on a new Dhooty (garment) and is taken to the place of worship, where the officiating priest has previously made all the necessary arrangements. Rice, fruits, and sweetmeats, are then offered to the goddess, who is religiously invoked to pour her benediction on the head of the child. After this, the priest takes away all the things offered to the goddess, with his usual gift of one or two rupees, and the child is taken by his parents to the Pátsálá and formally introduced to the Gooroomaháshoy, or master of the school. Curious as little children naturally are, all present gaze on the new comer as if he were a being of a strange species. But time soon wears off the gloss of novelty and everything assumes its normal aspect. The old boys soon become familiar with the new one, and a sort of intimacy almost unconsciously springs up amongst them. In this country a boy learns the letters of the alphabet, not by pronouncing them, but by writing them on the ground with a small piece of kharee, or soft stone, and copying them over and over again until he thoroughly masters them. Five letters are set him at a time. After this he is taught to write on palm leaves with a wooden pen and ink, then on slate and green plantain leaves, and, finally, on paper. At every stage of his progress he is expected to make some present to his master in the shape of food, clothes and money. A village school begins early in the morning, and continues till eleven, after which the boys are allowed to go home for their breakfast; they return at two, and remain in the school till evening, when all the boys are made to stand up in a systematic order, and one of the most advanced amongst them enumerates aloud the multiplication and numeration tables, and all are taught to repeat and commit to memory what they hear. By the daily repetition of these tables, their power of memory is practically improved. With a view to encourage the early attendance of the boys, a Gooroomahashoy resorts to the queer method of introducing the hathchory system into his Pátsálá, which requires that all the boys are to have stripes of the cane in arithmetical progression, on the hand, in the order of their attendance, that is, the first comer to have one stripe, the second two, and so on, in consecutive order. The last boy is sometimes made to stand on one leg for an hour or so to the infinite amusement of the early comers. The system certainly has a good effect in ensuring early attendance.

The course of instruction in such schools embraces reading in the vernacular, a little of arithmetic and writing, and such as become capable of keeping accounts pass for the clever boys. Stupid and wicked pupils are generally beaten with a cane, but their names are never struck off the register, as is the case in English schools. Sometimes a truant is compelled to stand on one leg holding up a brick in his right hand, or to have his arms stretched out till he is completely exhausted. Another mode of punishment consists in applying the leaves of Bichooty (a stinging plant) to the back of a naughty boy, who naturally smarts under the torturing. The infliction of such cruel punishments sometimes leads the boys to make a combination against the master for the purpose of retaliation, which generally results in bringing him to his senses. Hindoo boys are extremely sensitive, and are very apt to resent any affront to which they are cruelly subjected by their master.[14] The rate of fee in a village school is from one to three-pence a head per month, but the master has his perquisites by way of victuals and pice. There is a common saying among the Hindoos that in twelve months there are thirteen parbuns, or school festivals, implying thereby, that they are encountered by a continuous round of parbuns. On every such occasion the boys are expected to bring presents for the master, and any unfortunate boy who fails to bring such is denied the usual indulgence of a holiday. Little boys are seldom fond of reading, they would gladly sacrifice anything to purchase a holiday. It is not an uncommon thing to find a boy steal pice from his mother's box in order to satisfy the demands of his master at the festival. The principle on which a village school is conducted is essentially defective in this respect. Instead of teaching the rules of good conduct and enforcing the first principles of morality, it often sadly defeats the primary object of a good education, namely, the formation of a sound, moral and virtuous character. It is a disgrace to hear a schoolmaster, whose conduct should be the grand focus of moral excellence, use the most vulgar epithets towards his pupils for little faults the effects of which are seldom obliterated from their minds, even in the more advanced period of their life. However, such days of obnoxious pedagogism are almost gone by, never to come back again, now that the system of primary education has been extended to almost every village in India, under the auspices of our liberal Government. Whilst on this subject I may as well state here that some forty years ago our Government had appointed the late Rev. William Adam to be the Commissioner of Education in Bengal. That highly talented and generous philanthrophist, after a minute and searching investigation, submitted in his report to Government a scheme of education very similar to what is now introduced throughout Bengal. The scheme was then ignored on account of its vast expense, and the Commissioner was so disheartened at the apathy of Government towards the education of the masses, that a few days before his departure from Calcutta he took a farewell leave of some of his most distinguished native friends, and his parting words were to the following effect: "Your Government is not disposed to encourage those who are its real friends." This reproach has, however, been subsequently removed by the adoption of a primary system of education. The spirit of the times and the onward progress of enlightened sentiments have gradually inaugurated a comprehensive scheme, which, although still limited in its range, embraces the moral and intellectual improvement of the people in general.

In Calcutta, when a boy is six years old, his parents are anxious to have him admitted into one of the public schools, where he has an opportunity to learn both the Vernacular and the English languages. He may be said from that day to enter on the first stage of his intellectual disintegration. The books that are put into his hands gradually open his eyes and expand his intellect; he learns to discern what is right and what is wrong; he reasons within himself and finds that what he had learnt at home was not true, and is led by degrees to renounce his old ideas. Every day brings before his mind's eye the grand truths of Western knowledge, and he feels an irresistible desire, not only to test their accuracy but to advance farther in his scholastic career. He is too young however, to weigh well everything that comes in his way, but as he advances he finds the light of truth illumine his mind. His parents, if orthodox Hindoos, necessarily feel alarmed at his new-fledged ideas and try to counteract their influence by the stereotyped arguments, of the wisdom of our forefathers, but however inimically disposed, they dare not stop his progress, because they see, in almost every instance, that English education is the surest passport to honor and distinction. In this manner he continues to move through the various classes of the middle schools till he is advanced to one of the higher educational institutions connected with the University, and attains his sixteenth or seventeenth year, which is popularly regarded as his marriageable age.

IV.

VOWS OF HINDOO GIRLS.

When a girl is five years of age, she is initiated by an elderly woman in the preparatory rites of Bratas, or vows, the primary object of which is to secure her a good husband, and render her religious and happy throughout life. When the boy is sent to the Pátsálá, the girl is commonly forbidden to read or write, but has to begin her course of Bratas. The germs of superstition being thus early implanted in her mind, she is more or less influenced by it ever after. Formed by nature to be docile, pliant and susceptible, she readily takes to the initial course of religious exercises.

The first rite with which she has to commence is called the "Shiva Poojah," after the example of the goddess Doorga, who performed this ceremonial that she might obtain a good husband; and Shiva is regarded as a model husband. On the 30th day of Choytro, being the last day of the Bengallee year, she is required to make two little earthen images of the above goddess, and placing them on the coat of a bale-fruit (wood apple) with leaves, she begins to perform her worship; but before doing so, she is enjoined to wash herself and change her clothes, a requisition which enforces, thus early, cleanliness and purity in habits and manners, if not exactly in thought and feeling. Her mind being filled with germinal susceptibilities, she imbibes almost instinctively an increasing predilection for the performance of religious ceremonies. Sprinkling a few drops of holy water on the heads of the images, she repeats the following words: "All homage to Shiva, all homage to Shiva, all homage to Hara, (another name of Shiva); all homage to Bujjara," meaning two small earthen balls, like peas, which are stuck on the body of the images. She is then to be absorbed in meditation about the form and attributes of the goddess, and afterwards says her prayers three times in connection with Doorga's various names, which I need not recapitulate here. Offerings of flowers and bale leaves are then presented to the goddess with an incantation. Being pleased, Mahádev (Shiva) is supposed to ask from heaven what Brata or religious ceremony is Gouri (Doorga) performing? Gouri replies, she is worshipping Shiva, that she may get him for her husband, because, as said before, Shiva is a model husband.

Then comes the Brata of Hari or Krishna. The two feet of the god being painted in white sandal paste on a brass plate, the girl worships him with flowers and sandal paste. The god seeing this, is supposed to ask what girl worships his feet, and what boon she wants? She replies: May the prince of the kingdom be her husband, may she be beautiful and virtuous, and be the mother of seven wise and virtuous sons and two handsome daughters. She asks that her daughters-in-law may be industrious and obedient, that her sons-in-law may shine in the world by their good qualities, that her granary and farm-yard may be always full, the former with corn of all sorts, and the latter with milch cows, that when she dies all those who are near and dear to her may enjoy long life and prosperity, and that she may eventually, through the blessing of Hari, die on the banks of the sacred Ganges, and thereby pave the way for her entrance into heaven.

It is worthy of remark here that even young Hindoo girls, in the exercise of their immature discretion, make distinction between the gods in the choice of their husbands. In the first Brata, that of Shiva, a tender girl of five years of age is taught, almost unconsciously as it were, to prefer him to Krishna for her husband, because the latter, according to the Hindoo Shasters, is reputed to have borne a questionable character. I once asked a girl why she would not have Krishna for her husband. She promptly answered that that god disported with thousands of Gopeenees (milk-maids) and was therefore not a good god, while Shiva was devotedly attached to his one wife, Doorga. The explanation was full of significance from a moral and religious point of view.

The third Brata refers to the worship of ten images. This requires that the girl should paint on the floor ten images of deified men, as well as of gods, with alapana or rice paste. Offering them flowers and sandal paste, she asks that she may have a father-in-law like Dasarath, the father of Ram Chunder; a mother-in-law like Kousala, the mother of Ram Chunder; a husband like Ram Chunder; a dayur or husband's brother, like Luchmon, Ram's younger brother; a mother like Shasthi, whose children are all alive; like Koontee whose three sons were renowned for their love of justice, piety, courage and heroism; like Ganges, whose water allays the thirst of all; like the mother earth, whose patience is beyond all comparison. And, to crown the whole, she prays that she may, like Doorga, be blessed with an affectionate and devoted husband like Dropadi (the wife of the five Pandooas), be justly remarkable for her industry, devotedness and skill in the culinary art, and be like Sita (the wife of Ram Chunder) whose chastity and attachment to her husband are worthy of all praise. The above three Bratas take place in the Bengalee month of Bysack, (April) which is popularly regarded as a good month for the performance of meritorious works. The prayer contained in the above expresses the culminating female wish in entire accord with the injunctions of the holy shaster, but how often are the amiable qualities enumerated above set at naught in the actual conflicts of life, in which the predominance of evil desires swallows up every generous impulse!

The next Brata is called the Sajooty Brata. It is solely intended to counteract the thousand evils of polygamy—an unhealthy, unnatural institution, which ought to be expunged from the midst of every civilized community. Though God "has stamped no original characters on our minds wherein we may read his being," still we can clearly discern in His superior arrangements for the happiness of His creatures, that this abnormal practice is directly opposed to His dispensations, so much so that any one countenancing it, is guilty of a crime, for which, if he is not amenable to an earthly tribunal, he is assuredly accountable to a superior and superintending Being, the infringement of whose law is sure to be attended with misery. To get rid of the consequences of this monstrous evil, a girl of five years of age is taught to offer her invocation to God, and in the outburst of her juvenile feeling is almost involuntarily led to indulge in all manner of curses and imprecations against the possible rival of her bed. Nor can we find fault with her conduct, because "an overmastering and brooding sense" of some great future calamity thus early haunts her mind.

In performing the Sajooty Brata, the girl paints on the floor with rice paste a variety of things, such as the bough of a flower tree, a Palkee containing a man and a woman, with the sun and moon over it, the Ganges and the Jumna with boats on them, the temple of Mahadeo with Mahadeo in it, various ornaments of gold and precious stones, houses, markets, garden, granary, farm-yard and a number of other things, all intended to represent worldly prosperity. After painting the above, she invokes Mahadeo and prays for his blessing. An elderly lady more experienced in domestic matters then begins to dictate, and the girl repeats a volley of abuses and curses against her Sateen or rival wife in the possible future.

"There, stripped, fair rhetoric languished on the ground,
And shameful Billingsgate her robes adorn."

The following are a few of the specimens; I wish I could have transcribed them in metre.:—

"Barrey, Barrey, Barrey (a cooking utensil)
May Sateen become a slave!
Khangra, Khangra, Khangra, (broomstick)
May Sateen be exposed to infamy!
Hatha, Hatha, Hatha, (a cooking utensil)
May she devour her Sateen's head!
Geelay, Geelay, Geelay (a fruit)
May Sateen have spleen!
Pakee, Pakee, Pakee (bird)
May Sateen die and may she see her from the top of her house!
Moyna, Moyna, Moyna (bird)
May she never be cursed with a Sateen!"

May she cut an Usath tree, erect a house there, cause her Sateen to die and paint her feet with her Sateen's blood!

I might swell the list of these curses, but I fear they would prove grating to the ears of civilized readers.

The performance of the Sajooty Brata springs out of a desire to see a Sateen or rival wife become the victim of all manner of evils, extending even to the loss of life itself, simply because a plurality of wives is the source of perpetual disquietude and misery. By nature, a woman is so constituted that she can never bear the sight of a rival wife. In civilized countries, the evil is partially remediable by a legal separation, but in Hindoostan the legislature makes no provision whatever for its suppression. A feeling of burning jealousy becomes rampant wherever there is a case of polygamy to poison the perennial source of domestic felicity. So acutely sensitive is a Hindoo lady in this respect that she would rather suffer the miseries of widowhood than be cursed with the presence of a Sateen, whose very name almost spontaneously awakens in her mind the bitterest and the most envenomed feelings. She can make up her mind to give away a share of her most valuable worldly enjoyments, but she can never give a share of her husband's affection to any one on earth. To enjoy the exclusive monopoly of a husband's love is the life-long prayer of a Hindoo female. She expresses it in the incipient stage of her girlhood, and practically carries it with her until the last spark of life becomes extinct. This certainly indicates the prompting of a very strong natural feeling.

V.

MARRIAGE CEREMONIES.

The Hindoos have a strong belief that to solemnise the marriage of their children at an early age, is a meritorious act as discharging one of the primary obligations of life. They are, therefore, very anxious to have their sons and daughters formally married during their own life-time. Sometimes children are pledged to each other even in infancy, by the mutual agreement of the parents; and in most cases the girl is married when a mere child of from eight to ten years, all unconscious as yet of the real meaning and obligations of the relation, although her girlish fancies have been continually directed to it. Matches in the case of good families are commonly brought about in the following way.

When an unmarried boy attains his seventeenth or eighteenth year, numbers of professional men called Ghatucks or match-makers come to the parents with overtures of marriage. These men are destitute of principle, they know how to pander to the frailties of human nature; most of them being gross flatterers, endeavour to impose on the parents in the most barefaced manner. As they live on their wits, their descriptive powers and insinuating manners are almost matchless. When the qualities of a girl are to be commended, they, indulging in a strain of exaggeration, unblushingly declare, "she is beautiful as a full moon, the symmetry of her person is exact, her teeth are like the seeds of a pomegranate, her voice is remarkably sweet like that of the cuckoo, her gait is graceful, she speaks like the goddess Luckee, and will bring fortune to any family she may be connected with." The Hindoos have a notion that the good fortune of a husband depends on that of the wife, hence a woman is considered as an emblem of Luckee, the goddess of fortune. This is the highest commendation she can possess.[15]

If the qualities of a youth are to be appraised, they describe him thus: he is as beautiful as Kartick (the god of beauty), his deportment is that of a nobleman, he is free from all vices, he studies day and night, in short, he is a precious gem and an ornament of the neighbourhood. The Hindoos know very well that the Ghatucks as a body are great impostors, and do not believe half that these people say. From the day a matrimonial alliance is proposed, the parents on both sides begin to make all sorts of preliminary enquiries as to the unblemished nature of the caste, respectability and position in society of the parties concerned. When fully satisfied on these points, they give their verbal consent to the proposed union, but not before the father of the boy has demanded of the father of the girl a certain number of gold and silver ornaments, as well as of Barabharun, i. e., silver and brass utensils, couch, &c. exclusive of (with but few exceptions) a certain amount of money in lieu of Foolshajay.[16] Before proceeding further, I should observe that of late years a great change has taken place in the profession of the Ghatucks. The question of marriage, though not absolutely, yet chiefly, is a question the solution of which rests with the females. Their voice in such matters has a preponderating influence. Availing themselves of this powerful agency a new class of female Ghatucks or rather Ghatkees have sprung up among the people. Hence the occupation of the male Ghatucks is nearly gone, except in rare cases where nice points of caste distinction are to be decided. The great influences of Shibi Ghatkee and Badnee's mother—two very popular female Ghatkees,—is well known to the respectable Hindoo community of Calcutta. These two women have made a decent fortune by plying this trade. Though certainly not gifted with the imaginative powers of a poetic bard of Rajpootana,[17] their suasive influence is very telling. They have the rare faculty of making and unmaking matches. From the superior advantage which their sex affords them, they have a free access to the inner apartments of a house (even if it were that of a millionaire)—a privilege their male rivals can never expect to enjoy. When balked by the subtlety of a competitor in trade, by their bathos they contrive to break a match. Their representations regarding a proposed union seldom fail to exercise a great influence on the minds of the Zenana females. Relying on the accuracy of their description, which sometimes turns out exaggerated, if not false, the mother and other ladies are often led to give their consent to a proposed union. The husband, swayed by the counsel and importunity of his wife, is forced to acquiesce in her choice. He cannot do otherwise because, as our friend, Baboo Keshub Chunder Sen, has very facetiously observed, "man is a noun in the objective case governed by the active verb woman."[18]

When a Ghatkee comes up with the proposal of a matrimonial alliance with an educated youth, the first question generally asked her is, "Has he passed his examinations?" If so, how many passes has he got? meaning thereby how many examinations of the University has he passed through? "Has he yet any Jalpany or scholarship?" These are difficult questions which must be satisfactorily answered before a negotiation can be effected. That a University degree has raised the marriageable value of a boy, there can be no doubt. If he have successfully passed some of these examinations and got a scholarship, his parents, naturally priding themselves on their valuable acquisition, demand a preposterously long catalogue of gold ornaments, which, it is not often in the power of a family in middling circumstances easily to bestow. The parents of the girl, on the other hand, seeing the long list, demur at first to give their consent, but their demurring is of no avail; marry their daughter, they must. The present ruinous scale of nuptial expenses must be submitted to at any sacrifice, and after deep cogitation they send a revised schedule, (as if marriage were a mere matter of traffic) taking off from it some costly items, which would press heavily on the purse. In this manner the Ghatkee continually goes backwards and forwards for some time, proposing concessions on both sides and holding out delusive hopes of future advantages in the event of the carrying out of the marriage. There is a trite saying among the Hindoos, that "a matrimonial alliance could not be completed without uttering a lakh of words."

The parents of the girl on whose head falls the greatest burden, are eventually made to succumb from a consideration of their having secured a desirable match, namely, a passed student. If not placed in affluent circumstances, as is generally the case, they are obliged to raise the requisite sum of money by loan, which sows, in many instances, the seeds of much future embarrassment. At a very moderate calculation, a tolerably respectable marriage now-a-days costs between two and three thousand Rupees (about £200),—sometimes more. There is another native adage which says, "we want twine for thatching and money for wedding." A respectable Hindoo gentleman who has four or five daughters to give in marriage and whose income is not large, is often reduced to the greatest difficulty and embarrassment by reason of the extravagantly enormous expenses of a marriage. The rich do not care much what they are required to spend. All that they look for is a desirable match. It is the middle and poorer classes, who form by far the largest aggregate of population in every country, that suffer most severely from the present enhanced scale of matrimonial charges. The late Rajah Rajkissen, Baboos Ramdoolal Dey,[19] Nemy Churn Mullick and other Hindoo millionaires, spent extraordinary sums of money on the marriage of their sons. The amount in each instance far exceeded a lakh of Rupees. The annals of Rájasthan furnish numerous instances of lavish expenditure, varying from five to ten lakhs of Rupees and upwards, on the solemnization of nuptials. There was a spirit of rivalry which animated the princes to surpass each other in magnificence and splendour on such occasions, regardless alike of the state of their exchequer, and the demoralizing effects of such conduct. Marriages in such a magnificent style are seldom to be seen in Calcutta now-a-days, not because of the distaste of the people for such frivolities, but because of the lamentable decline and impoverishment of the former magnates of the land. It is painful to contemplate that the present scale of expenditure among the middle classes has been in an inverse ratio to their income. The exertions made sometime ago by Moonshee Peary Lall for the reduction of marriage expenses would have doubtless conferred a lasting boon on the Hindoo community in general, if the object had been crowned with success, but as the Legislature has no control over such matters, relating as they do to purely private affairs, the noble scheme resulted in failure. It is quite optional with parties to go to heavy expenses on such occasions; no act of Government without the voice of the people could restrain them in this respect. Any social reform to be permanent and effectual must be carried out by the universal suffrages of the people.

When the preliminaries of a marriage are settled, a person, on each side, is deputed by turns to see the boy and the girl. It is customary to see the girl first. When the friends of the bridegroom, therefore, come for the purpose, they sit down in the outer apartment of the house, whilst the bride is engaged in her toilet duty. After fifteen or twenty minutes, she, glittering in jewels and accompanied by a maid servant as well as by the Ghatkee, makes her appearance. The first thing she does in entering the room is to make a pranám or bow to all present, and then she is asked to squat down on the clean white sheet spread on the floor. A solemn pause ensues for a minute or so, when one of the company, more officious than the rest, breaks the silence by putting to her a few questions. She naturally feels herself somewhat out of her element in the midst of so many strangers, and unconsciously shows a sort of embarrassment even of self conflict almost distressing to witness. This internal agitation of feeling, arising partly from modesty and partly from anxiety, causes her even to stammer. Her engrossing thought for the time being is, according to the early vow she has made, that she may have a good husband with lots of jewels. "What is your name, mother?" is the first question. She may diffidently reply in a half suppressed tone "Gri Balla." "Who is that sitting before you?"—perhaps pointing to the girl's father. She says, "My father." "Can you read and write?" If she say, "yes," she is asked to read a little out of her book.

The Ghatkee here plays the part of a panegyrist by admiring the amiable qualities of the girl, who, she adds, is the very type of Luckee (the goddess of prosperity.) While this examination is going on in the outer apartment, the anxious mother, whose heart beats with throbbing sensations while watching the scene from behind a half closed window, does not feel herself at ease, until she hears that her daughter has acquitted herself creditably. Before the girl leaves the room, the father or brother of the boy puts a gold mohur into her hand as a tangible proof of approval and bids her retire. It is needless to say, that she feels herself relieved, quite glad and free, when she again sees the faces of her mother and sisters, whose joy returns with her return.

This interview is called pucca dheykha or the confirmatory visit. All the Brahmins, Ghatucks and Ghatkees, and other Koolins who may be present on the occasion receive two or four Rupees each. The servants of the house are not forgotten, they too receive each a Rupee. If this interview take place in the morning, the parties return home without breakfast, it being customary with them not to eat anything before bathing and performing their daily worship. If in the evening, they are treated to a good dinner consisting of the best fruits of the season, sweet and sour milk and sweetmeats of various kinds. It is on such ceremonious occasions, that the Hindoos make a display of their wealth by serving the dinner to their new friends with silver salvers, plates, glasses and paundan, (betel box). Almost every respectable gentleman keeps a good assortment of these silver articles. They are, however, reserved for special purposes, and used only on special occasions. As a rule, the people are not fond of investing their money, like Europeans, in plated-ware, because it is, comparatively speaking, of little exchangeable value in times of need and distress.

It is now the turn of the boy to be examined in a similar way as to his scholastic acquirements. When the father and the relatives of the girl pay a return visit, they generally bring with them a graduate of the University. Should the boy be one who has successfully passed the Matriculation standard, he is not subjected to so strict an examination as one who does not enjoy the same dignity. In both cases, however, they must undergo some examination in English literature, composition, grammar, history, &c. It is a noteworthy fact that a boy however intelligent and expert in other respects, betrays a lamentable deficiency, arising from diffidence, when required to undergo an examination in the presence of his father-in-law and a University graduate. The thought of failure acts as a heavy incubus on his mind. He finds himself bewildered in a maze of confusion. If he do not actually stammer, he talks at least very slowly and diffidently, and if called upon to write, his hand shakes, and in fact he becomes extremely nervous. After this trial is over, the boy retires with mingled feelings of misgiving and complacence. He receives, however, in his turn a gold mohur. The gentlemen who had come to see him are then asked to a dinner in the way described above. The same display of silver-ware is made on the occasion, and nearly the same amount of presents of money made to the Brahmins, Koolins and others.

When both parties are satisfied as to the desirableness of the union, a good day is fixed for drawing a pattra or written agreement in which, say, a Koolin of superior caste, engages in writing to give his son in marriage with the daughter of either a second Koolin, or, as is often the case of a Mowleek, an inferior in caste. This Pattra is written by a Brahmin on Bengallee paper with Bengallee pen and ink (as if English writing materials would desecrate such a sacred contract) and must consist of an odd number of lines, such as seven or nine lines. An invocation of the Butterfly must head the Pattra, the purport of which will run as follows: "I, Ram Chunder Bose, do engage to give my second son, Gopeenauth Bose, in marriage with Nobinmoney Dossee, the eldest daughter of Issen Chunder Dutt, who is also bound by his contract; the marriage to be solemnized on a day to be named hereafter." Here the signatures of both the fathers as well as of the witnesses follow. When finished, it is rolled up in red thread. The Koolin gentleman hands it to the Mowleek gentleman, when the latter embraces the former, and gives him at the same time Koola marjádá and Pattra Darshanee, as a mark of respect for his superior caste,—or about fifty Rupees. The articles required for the matrimonial contract are paddy, doov grass, turmeric, betel leaf, betel-nuts, sandal paste, cowries (small shells) and alta[20] all which are considered as conducive to the future welfare of the boy[21] and girl. When the contract is religiously ratified, a couple of conchs—one for the bridegroom and another for the bride—are sounded by the females, announcing the happy conclusion of this important preliminary, at which all hearts are exhilarated. Arrangements are now being made for the dinner of all who may be present at the time. Sometimes fifty to sixty persons are fed. Every care is taken to provide a good dinner for the delectation of the guests and a Pattra on this scale costs from 300 to 400 Rupees. The Brahmins, Koolins, and others, receive, as usual, presents of money and return home replenished in body as well as in purse.

It is worthy of remark that though the distinction of caste still exerts its influence on all the important concerns of our social and domestic life, it is nevertheless fast losing its prestige in the estimation of the enlightened Hindoos. In former days a Koolin occupied a prominent position in society, be his character what it might, but now-a-days the rapid spread of English education, and the manifold advantages derivable from it, has practically impaired his influence and lowered his dignity. A Koolin who happens to be the father of a girl married to a Mowleek, is, in the present day, degraded into the rank of his traditional inferior, simply because he is the father of the girl; he must even be prepared to submit to all sorts of humiliation and continue to serve the Mowleek father of the boy as long as the connection lasts. At every popular festival for at least one year he must, according to his rank, make suitable presents to his son-in-law, failing which a latent feeling of discontent arises which eventually ripens into bitter misunderstanding.

But to return to the marriage contract. After the entertainment, both parties consult the almanac and fix a day for the ceremony, called Gátray haridrá or the anointment of the boy with turmeric. On that day the bridegroom, after bathing and putting on a red bordered cloth,[22] is made to stand on a grindstone surrounded by four plantain trees, while five women (one must be of Brahmin caste) whose husbands are alive, go round him five or seven times, anoint his body with turmeric, and touch his forehead at one and the same time with holy water, betel, betel-nuts, a Sree made of rice paste in the shape of a sugarloaf, and twenty other little articles consisting of several kinds of peas, rice, paddy, gold, silver, &c. From this day, the boy carries about a pair of silver nut-crackers, and the girl a pair of kajulnatha,[23] which must remain with them till the solemnization of the nuptials, for the purpose of repelling evil spirits. A little of the turmeric paste with which the body of the bridegroom was anointed is sent by the family barber to the bride in a silver cup, her body is also anointed with it. A number of other gifts follow, namely, a large brass vessel of oil, various kinds of perfumery, three pieces of cloth (one must be a richly embroidered Benares saree, one Dacca, and the other red bordered), a small carpet, a silk musnud with pillows, two mats, some gold trinkets for the head, a few baskets of sweetmeats, some large fishes, sweet and sour milk, and a few garlands of flowers, &c., all which cost from two to three hundred Rupees, or sometimes more. A rich man sometimes gives a pair of diamond combs and flowers for the hair, of the value of two thousand Rupees and upwards. From this, an idea may be formed as to the lavish expenditure of the Hindoos on marriages, even in these hard times. A few can afford it, but the many are put to their wits'-end in meeting the demands thus made upon them.

Two or three days after the ceremony of anointment, the Bengali almanac is again consulted, and a lucky day is appointed for the celebration of Ahibarrabhàt, so called from its being a feast given just before the wedding. On this occasion the father of the bridegroom gives a grand entertainment to the male relatives of the family. As a counterpart to the same the father of the bride gives a similar entertainment to the female relatives of his own family, with this difference only, that in the case of the former no Palkees are required, whereas in the case of the latter these covered conveyances have to be engaged for bringing in the females. In either case the number of guests generally varies from two to three hundred, and as the present style of living among the Hindoos in the metropolis has become more expensive than that which prevailed in the good old days, partly from a vain desire to make an ambitious display of wealth, and partly from the unprecedentedly rapid increase of the population, which has, as a necessary sequence, considerably raised the prices of all kind of provisions, an entertainment of this nature costs from four to five hundred Rupees on each side. The very best kinds of loochees, kocharees, vegetable curries, fruits, sweetmeats[24] and other delicacies of the season are to be provided for this special occasion.

English friends are often invited to the marriages of rich families in Calcutta and regaled with all sorts of delicacies from the Great Eastern Hotel. "The family mansion is splendidly furnished and brilliantly illuminated. There is literally a profusion of pictures and chandeliers. All the furniture and surroundings are indicative more of an English than of a Native house. Dancing girls are hired to impart eclât to the scene. A nabat covered with tinsel is put up in front of the house, where native musicians play at intervals, much to the satisfaction of the mother of the bridegroom and the boys of the neighbourhood, and a temporary scaffolding made of bamboos and ornamental paper is erected on the highway in the form of a crescent bearing on it the inscription, "God save the bridegroom." Male and female servants receiving presents of gold and silver bangles move about the house gaily dressed in red uniform, or clothes. As tangible memorials of the happy union, presents of large brass pots, with oil, plates with sweetmeats, fruits, and clothes, &c., are largely distributed among the Brahmins and numerous friends and relatives of the family. This present is called Samajeek. With the exception of Brahmins, who are content with offering hollow benedictions, in which the sacerdotal class, as a rule, is so very liberal, everyone else who receives them makes in return presents of clothes and sweetmeats, the nearest relatives making the most costly ones. In times of great loganshá, i. e., when numerous marriages take place, the demand for clothes and sweetmeats is really enormous. Dealers in those things make a harvest of profit and "the town becomes a jubilee of feasts."

During the night preceding the marriage, the women of both the families scarcely sleep, being busily engaged in making all sorts of preparations for the next day. Very early in the morning, five Ayows, or females whose husbands are alive, take with them a light, a knife, a Sree, a Brundálá, containing sundry little articles, described before, a small brass pot, some sweetmeats, choora and moorkee, oil, betel, betel-nuts and turmeric, and go to the nearest tank, sounding a conch, and touching the water with the knife, fill the brass pot with water. The above articles being presented as an offering to the brass pot, the females receive a portion of the eatables and return home sounding the conch, which is a necessary accompaniment of all religious ceremonies.

What I am now about to describe may be called the first marriage, because it is invariably followed by a second ceremonial when the union is really consummated. But it properly forms the binding ceremony, as constituting the marriage relative between the two youthful parties, with all its legal and social rights, even if they should not be spared to live together as husband and wife.

The emptiness and superficiality of the relation, especially on the side of the childish bride, will be but too apparent, and is but too often realised in this uncertain life, in the prolonged misery of a virgin widowhood. On the day of the marriage both the bridegroom and the bride are forbidden to eat anything except a little milk and a few fruits. The father of the bride also fasts, as well as the officiating priests of the two families.

About twelve o'clock in the day, the Mowleek family sends presents of clothes, sweetmeats, fishes, sour and sweet milk and some money, say about twenty-five rupees, to the house of the Koolin family, as a mark of honor to the latter, to which, from his superior caste he is fairly entitled. This present is called Adhibassy. Both the fathers are also required during the day to perform the ceremony of Nannimook or Bidhishrad,—a ceremony, the meaning of which, as said before, is to make offerings to the manes of ancestors, and to wish for the increase and preservation of progeny.

After the performance of the above ceremonies, both the bridegroom and the bride putting on new red bordered dhooty and saree respectively at their several houses, are made to bathe; and five women whose husbands are alive touch their foreheads with sundry little things, as mentioned before. They have afterwards to go through a few minor rites which are purely the inventions of the females, not being at all enjoined in the Shásters. It is obvious that the primary object of all these female rites is to promote conjugal felicity. Strange as it may appear, it is nevertheless a fact that the mother of the bridegroom eats seven times (of course but little at a time) that day through a fear lest the bride, when she comes, will give her but scanty meals,[25] while the mother of the bride does not eat anything until the marriage ceremony is over, being impressed with a notion that the more she fasts the more she will get to eat afterwards.

The females on the side of the bride, with the help of a matron, exercise their utmost ingenuity, and literally rack their brains, in devising all manner of contrivances partaking of the character of charms to win the devoted attachment of the bridegroom towards the lovely little bride. They resort to numerous petty tricks for the purpose which are too absurd and childish to be dwelt upon. Credulous as they naturally are, and simple as they are known to be in their habits, not to speak of the normal weakness of their intellect, they fondly imagine that their thook thak or trick is sure to triumph and produce the desired effect. To give an instance or two. They write down in red ink on the back of the Peray, or wooden seat on which the bride is to sit, the names of twenty-one uxorious husbands, and go round the bride seven times. They also write the name of the goddess, Doorga, on the silk saree or garment which the bride is to wear at the time of the marriage ceremony, because Shiva, her husband, was excessively fond of her. They place before her the Chundi Pooty, a sacred book treating of Doorga and Shiva, while her mouth is filled with two betel-nuts to be afterwards chewed with betel by the bridegroom unawares. Meantime active preparations are made on both sides for the auspicious solemnization of the nuptials. At the house of the bridegroom, arrangements are being made for illumination and fireworks, and the grand Nacarras announce the approaching departure of the procession. Fac-similes of mountains and peacocks are made of colored paper spacious enough to accommodate a dozen persons; hundreds of Khás gaylap and silver staves are seen on the roadside; groups of songsters and musicians are posted here and there to give a passing specimen of the vulgar songs of the populace; a Sookasun or bridegroom's seat elegantly fitted up is brought out with two boys gaily dressed to fan the bridegroom with chamurs;[26] hundreds of blue and red lights are distributed among the swarthy coolies, who are to use them on the road when the procession moves. The bridegroom, being washed, is helped to put on a suit of superbly embroidered Benares kinkob dress, with a pearl necklace of great value, besides bangles and armlets set in precious stones and garlands of flowers. Durwans and guards of honor are paraded in front of the house; and in short, nothing is left to impart an imposing appearance to the scene. As has been already observed, there is a growing desire among the Hindoos to imitate English manners and fashions. A marriage procession is considered quite incomplete unless bands of English musicians are retained, and a cavalcade of troopers like a burlesque of the Governor-General's Body Guard is seen to move forward to clear the way. A Cook's carriage with a postillion is not unfrequently observed to supersede the old Sooksun, or gilt Palkee.

Before the bridegroom leaves his house he says his prayer to the goddess Doorga, and makes his preparatory jattrá (departure). At this time his mother asks him, "Baba where are you going?" He answers, "To bring in your Dassee or maid-servant." Before leaving he receives from her a few instructions as to how he should conduct himself at the house of his father-in-law. He is to gaze on the stars in heaven, keep his feet half on the ground and half on the wooden seat when engaged in performing a ceremony, and not to use any other betel but his own. The object of these instructions is to thwart the intention of his mother-in-law that he may become a uxorious husband, a wish in which his mother does not share at all, because it is calculated to diminish his regard for her. In the majority of cases the wish of the mother-in-law prevails over that of the mother, as is quite natural.

He has next to perform the rite of Kanakángoolee, surrounded by all the women of the family. A small brass plate containing rice, a small wooden pot of vermilion, and one Rupee, are thrown right over his head by his father into the Saree, or robe of his mother, who stands behind him for the purpose of receiving the same. This is a signal for him to come out, and if all arrangements are complete, take his seat on the bridal Sookasun, or carriage. The procession moves forward amid the increasing darkness. One or two European constables march ahead. The usual cortége of stalwart durwans follow. The torches and flambeaus are lighted. The Khasgalabullahs are ranged on both sides of the road; in the midst are placed bands of native and English musicians. Parties of songsters in female dress begin to sing and dance on the Moworpunkhee, borne on the shoulders of coolies. The flaring torches are waved around the procession. Blue and red lights are flashed at intervals. Noise, confusion, and bustle ensue. Men, women and children all flock to see the támáshá. Mischievous boys try to rob the lights. And to lend, as it were, an enchantment to the scene, gay Baboos in open carriages, in their gala dresses bring up the rear. It is on such occasions that modest beauties and newly-married brides (bahus) come out from the Zenana, and, unveiling their faces, rise on the tops of their houses on both sides of the road, in order to feast their eyes on all the pompous accompaniments of a marriage exhibition. As soon as the procession arrives near the house of the bride, the people of the neighbourhood assemble in groups to have a sight of the lord of the day, and four or five gentlemen of the party of the bride advance to welcome the bridegroom and his party of friends, who enter, receiving the stares of the idle and the salutations of the polite. The barber of the family brings out a light in a sará (earthen vessel) and places it on the side of the road. Decency forbids me to mention certain of its constituents.

As the initiatory rite of the auspicious event, the females blow the conch-shell in the inner apartment, and some more impatient than the rest peep through the latticed corridor or window, while the bridegroom is slowly conducted to his appropriate seat made up of red satin with embroidered fringes, having three pillows of the same stuff on three sides. An awning is suspended over the spacious compound, and it is splendidly illuminated with gas lights. Polite and complimentary expressions of good wishes and of refined native etiquette are exchanged on both sides, comparing favorably with the rude manners of past times. "Come in, come in, gentlemen, and sit down, please," is the general cry. "Bring tobacco, bring tobacco, for both Brahmin's and Soodras," is the next welcome expression. Boys, especially the brother-in-law of the bridegroom, now bring him a couple of betel-nuts, to be cut with the pair of nut-crackers he holds in his hand. He objects and hesitates at first, but no excuse is admitted, no plea heard, he must cut them in the best way he can.[27] When all the guests are properly seated, numbers of school boys sit face to face and begin to wrangle, much to the amusement of the assemblage. As English education is now all the "go" among the people, questions in spelling, grammar, geography and history, are put to each other. The following may be taken as a specimen: Aushotosh asks Bholanauth, "In what school do you read?" Bholanauth answers, "In the Hare School." A. continues, "What books do you read?" B. enumerates them.

A. asks, "What is your pedagogue's name?" B., a little confounded, remains quiet, meditating within himself what could a pedagogue mean. A. drawing nearer, asks him to spell the word, housewife? B. answers, "h-u-z-z-i-f." A. laughs heartily in which he is joined by other boys. Continuing the chain of interrogations, he asks B. to parse the sentence: "To be good is to be happy." B. hanging down his head, attempts, but fails. "Where is Dundee, and what is it famous for?" B. answers, "Dundee is in Germany." (laughter): A. pressing his adversary, continues, "What was the cause of the Trojan war?" B. answers hesitatingly, "The golden fleece!" Thus discomfited, B. takes refuge in ignoble silence, while A., in a triumphant mood, moves prominently forward amidst the plaudits of the assembled multitude. "Long live Aushotosh," is the universal blessing.

Here two or three professional genealogists, having tunics on their bodies and turbans on their heads, stand up, and in measured rhyme recite the genealogical table of the two families now affianced, blazoning forth the meritorious deeds of each succeeding generation. They keep a regular register of all the aristocratic Hindoo families, especially of the Koolin class, and at respectable marriages they are richly rewarded. It is quite amusing to hear how seriously they rehearse the virtuous acts of the ancestors, carefully refraining from making any allusion to disreputable acts of any kind. Though not like Chundá, the inimitable bard and pole-star of Rajasthan, as Colonel Tod says, their services are duly appreciated by all orthodox Hindoos, who exult in the glowing recital of ancestral deeds. Their language is so guarded and flattering that it can offend nobody, except such as do not reward them. Having the genealogical table in their possession they can easily turn the good into bad, and vice versa, to serve their own selfish ends. An upstart, or one who has a family stain, pays them liberally to have his name inserted in the genealogical register, and to be mentioned in laudatory terms.

In the Thakoor dhallan, or chamber of worship, all preparations for the solemnization of nuptials are now made. The couch-cot, beddings, carpet, embroidered and wooden shoes—here English shoes will not do—gold watch with chain, diamond ring, pearl necklace, and one set of silver and one set of brass utensils,[28] are arranged in proper order, and flowers, sandal-paste, dooav grass, holy water in copper pans, and khoosh grass, are placed before the priests of both parties. The bridegroom, laying aside his embroidered robe, is dressed in a red silk cloth, and taken to the place of worship, where the bride, also attired in a silk Saree, veiled and trembling through fear, is slowly brought from the female penetralia on a wooden seat borne by two servants and placed on the left side of the bridegroom. The agitation of her internal feelings when brought before the altar of Hymen is greatly soothed by the wealth of gold ornaments—the summum bonum of her existence with which her person is adorned. The officiating priest puts into the hands of the bridegroom fourteen blades of khoosh grass in two small bundles which he winds and ties round his figures. The priest then pours a little holy Ganges water into the bridegroom's right hand, which he holds while the father-in-law repeats a mantra or incantation, at the close of which he lets it fall. Rice, flowers and doorva grass are next given him, which he lays near the copper pan containing the holy water. Water is presented as at first with a prayer, and sour milk, then again water. The officiating priest now directs him to put his hand into the copper pan, and placing the hand of the bride on that of the bridegroom ties them together with a garland of flowers, when the father-in-law says: "Of the family of Goutam, the great grand-daughter of Ram Churn Bose, the grand-daughter of Bulloram Bose, the daughter of Ramsoonder Bose, wearing such and such clothes and jewels, I, Dwarkeynath Bose, give to thee, Oma Churn Dutt, of the family of Bharadáz, the great grandson of Dinnonath Dutt, the grandson of Shib Churn Dutt, the son of Jodonauth Dutt." The bridegroom says, "I have received her." The father-in-law then takes off the garland of flowers with which the hands of the married pair were bound, and pouring some holy water on their heads, pronounces his benediction. A piece of silk cloth called Lajá bustur, is then put over the heads of the boy and girl, and they are asked to look at each other for the first time in their lives. While the marriage ceremony is being performed the boy is made to wear on his head a conical tinsel hat. Here the barber of the bridegroom gives to the priest a little Khoye (parched rice) and a little ghee, which are offered with doorva grass to the god Brahma. A very small piece of coarse cloth called gatchará, or knotted cloth, containing in all twenty-one myrobolans, boyra fruit and betel-nuts, is tied to the silk dhobja or scarf of the bridegroom, which is fastened again to the silk garment of the bride, thus symbolising a union never to be severed. The married couple are then taken into the inner court where the females are waiting on the tiptoe of expectation, wreathed for a moment in the rapturous embraces of one another. As soon as the boy appears, or rather before his appearance, conch-shells are again blown, and he is made to stand on a stone placed under a small awning called chádláhtalah, a temporary shed, surrounded on four sides by plantain trees. By way of merriment, some females greet him with hayeumllah mixed in treacle, some pull his ears, notably his sisters-in-law, while matrons cry out "ulu, ulu, ulu," sounds indicative of excessive joy. It would require the masterly pen of a Sir Walter Scott to adequately delineate the joyous feelings of the females on such an auspicious occasion.

The bridegroom is made to wear on his ten fingers ten rings made of twigs of creepers, and his hands are tied by a piece of thread as long as his body. Putting betwixt them a weaver's shuttle, the mother-in-law says, "I have bound thee by thread, bought thee with cowries, and put a shuttle betwixt thy hands, now bleat thou like a lamb,[29] Bapoo,"—a term of endearment. She also closes his mouth by touching his lips with a padlock, and symbolically sewing the same with twenty-one pins, that he may never scold the girl; touches his nose with a slender Bamboo pipe and breaks it afterwards, throws over his body treacle and rice, as well as the refuse of spices pounded on a grindstone, which has been kept covered with a bag for eight days, are alive, by two females whose husbands and finally touches his lips with honey and small images made of sugar, that he may ever treat his wife like a sweet darling.

Afterwards the mother-in-law with several other married women, adorned with all their costly ornaments and dressed in their best attire, touch his forehead with Sree, Barandàllà a winnowing fan, plantain, betel and betel-nuts; and here the silk scarf of the boy, of which mention has been made before, is again more closely fastened to the silk garment of the girl, and kept with her for eight days, after which it is returned, accompanied by presents of sweetmeats, fishes and curdled milk. These puerile rites, purely the invention of females, are intended to act as charms for securing the love and affection of the husband for his wife. The wish is certainly a good one, but often the agencies employed fail to produce the desired effect! "Charms strike the sight, but merit wins the soul." Before the marriage ceremony is concluded, the boys of the neighbourhood make the usual demand of Gramvaṭ and Barawari Poojah. At first in a polite way they ask the father of the bridegroom for the gift. He offers twenty Rupees, but they insist on having one hundred Rupees. After some altercation in which sometimes high words and offensive language are made use of,[30] the matter is eventually settled on payment of thirty-two Rupees. This money is used in giving a feast to the boys of the neighbourhood, reserving a portion for the Barawari poojah,—a mode of worship which will be more fully treated in another place.

As an epilogue to the nuptial rite, the bridegroom continues to stand on a stone, while two men setting the bride on a wooden seat, and lifting her higher than his head, makes three circumambulations, asking the females at the same time who is taller, the bridegroom or the bride? The stereotyped response is, "the bride." This being done, the females throwing a piece of cloth over the heads of both, desire them to glance at each other with all the fond endearments of a wedded pair. As is to be expected, the coy girl, almost in a state of trepidation, casts but a transient look, and veils her face instanter; but the boy, young as he is, feels inwardly happy to view the lovely face of his future wife. This look is called Shoovádristi or "the auspicious sight" which is held in the light of a harbinger of future felicity.

The bridegroom returns to the Thacoordhallan or place of worship and performs the concluding part of the marriage ceremony, while the officiating priest, repeating the usual incantation, presents the burnt offerings (home) to the gods, which is the finale of the religious part of the rite.[31] But before the bridegroom leaves the place of worship, the officiating priests of both sides must have their dackiná or pecuniary reward. If the boy be of the Mowleek caste and the girl of the Koolin caste, the former must give double what the latter gives, i. e., 16 Rupees and 8 Rupees. Here, as in every other instance, the superiority of caste asserts its peculiar privileges. The professional genealogists, after concluding their recitation and singing their epithalamiums, also come in for their share of the reward, but they are generally told to wait till the next day, when in common with other Ghatacks they receive their recompense. The bridegroom is then permitted to have a little breathing time, after having undergone the infliction of so many religious and domestic rites, which latter formed the special province of the females.

The head of the family now stands up before the assembly, and asks their permission to go through the ceremony of Mala Chandan, or the distribution of sandaled garlands. This is done to pay them the honor due to their rank. The Dullaputty, or the head of the order or party, almost invariably receives the first garland, and then the assembled multitudes are served. For securing this hereditary distinction to a family, large sums of money have been spent from time to time by millionaires who, by the favorable combination of circumstances, had risen from an obscure position in life to a state of great affluence. The late Rajah Rajkissen Bahadoor, Baboos Ram Doolal Dey, Kisto Ram Bose, Modun Mohun Dutt, Santi Ram Singh, Ram Rutton Roy and others, expended upwards of a lakh of Rupees, or £10,000, each for the possession of the enviable title of Dullaputty, or head of a party. The way by which this noble distinction was secured was to induce first-class Koolins, by sufficient pecuniary inducements, to intermarry into the families of the would-be Dullaputty. The generally impoverished condition of the old aristocracy of the land, and the onward march of intellect teaching the people to look to sterling merit for superiority in the scale of Society have considerably deteriorated the value of these artificial distinctions. The progress of education has opened a new era in the social institutions of the country, and an enlightened proletariat is now-a-days more esteemed than an empty titled Dullaputty, the magnitude of whose social status is not to be estimated by the numbers of Koolins he is connected with, but by the extent and character of his services to society.

The bridegroom next dines with his friends outside, notwithstanding the importunities of the females for him to dine in their presence in the inner apartment, that they might have an opportunity to indulge in merriment at his expense. As a rule, the Brahmins dine first, and then the numerous guests and attendants, numbering sometimes one thousand. Despite the precaution of the friends of the bride to prevent unwelcome intrusion, from a natural apprehension of running short of supplies, which, on such occasions, are procured at enormous cost, many uninvited persons in the disguise of respectable looking Baboos contrive somehow or other to mingle in the crowd and behave with such propriety as to elude detection. The proportion of male intruders is larger than that of female ones, simply because the latter, however barefaced, cannot entirely divest themselves of all modesty. It would not be above the mark to put down the number of the former at twenty per cent. Such men are professional intruders; they are entirely devoid of a sense of self respect, and lead a wretched, demoralized life. Foreigners can have no idea of the extent to which they carry on their disreputable trade, including in their ranks some of the highest Brahmins of the country. It is not an uncommon sight, on such occasion, to behold numbers of people depart after dinner with bundles of loochees (fine edibles) and sweetmeats in their hands, which methránees[32] threaten to touch and defile.

When full justice has been done to the feast provided for the occasion, the crowd melts away and streams out at the door, well pleased with the reception they have had. It is much easier to satisfy men than women in this respect. The latter are naturally fastidious, and the least shortcoming is sure to be found fault with. When confusion and bustle subside, the bridegroom is slowly conducted into a room in the inner apartment which bears the euphonious name of Básurghur, the bed-chamber of the happy pair, or rather the store-house of jokes and banter, where are grouped together his wife, his mother-in-law,[33] and the whole galaxy of beauty. The very name of Basarghur[34] suggests to the female a variety of ideas at once amusing and fascinating. As I have already observed, she, nursed from her cradle in a state of perfect seclusion, and immersed in all the drudgeries of a monotonous domestic life, is glad of any opportunity to share in the unreined pleasure of joviality. The mother-in-law, throwing aside conventional restraint, introduces herself, or is introduced by other women, to her son-in-law. They pull the poor lad's ears, in spite of her earnest protestation, and if they do not know what flirtation is, they assail him with jokes which quite puzzle him and bewilder his senses. They burst into roars of laughter and make themselves merry at his expense; he feels himself almost helpless and unprepared to make a suitable repartee, and is at length driven into all manner of excuses, as plausible reasons for a brief respite and a short repose. He complains of headache occasioned by the lateness of the hour; as a sure remedy they give him soda, ice, eau-de-cologne, and almost bathe him in rose-water; but a soporific they can on no account allow him, because it would mar their pleasure and sink their lively spirits. Keeping up their jokes, they place the lovely bride with all her gold trappings on his knee, and unveiling her face ask him to look at it, and say whether or not he likes her; she closes her eyes, moves and jerks to have the veil dropped down, but her sisters yield not to her wish, and keeping her yet unveiled, repeat the question. Of course he makes no reply, but blushes and hangs down his head; their demand being imperative, he sees no other alternative, but to gently reply in the affirmative. They next make the girl bride, much against her inclination, lie down by his side; as often as she is dragged so often she draws back, but yielding at last to the admonition of her mother, she is constrained to lie down, because, on that night, this form is strictly enjoined in the female shaster. The innocent girl, unconscious of the absurd mirth, shrinking together, turns away, and occasionally whimpering, passes the sleepless, miserable hours. The dawn of morning is to her most welcome, although it affords her but a temporary relief. As the first glimpse of light is perceived, she flies into the bosom of her aunt, who tries to animate her drooping spirit by a word or two of solace, citing perhaps at the same time the example of Surrajiney, her elder sister, placed in a similar position three years ago. The women referred to remain in the Basarghur. As a matter of course aged women go to sleep faster than young sprightly girls of sweet seventeen, who are bent on making the best of the occasion by indulging in jokes and witticisms. They literally rack their brains to outwit the bridegroom by their thátá and támáshá (jokes), and their stock of it seems to be almost inexhaustible. They contrive to make him chew the same beera or betel which is first chewed by the bride, and if he be obstinate enough to refuse it, in obedience to the warning of his mother, which is often the case, four or five young ladies open out his lips, and thrust the chewed betel into his mouth. What young man would be so ungallant as to resist them after all? He must either submit or bear the opprobrium of a foolish discourteous boy. Thus the whole night is passed in the banter and practical joking peculiar to the idiosyncracy of the Hindoo females. When in the morning he attempts to get away from their company, one or two ladies, notably his salees, or sisters-in-law hold him fast by the skirt of his silk garment demanding the customary present of Sarjaytollánee.[35] He sends a message to his man outside, and gets thirty two or fifty Rupees, on payment of which they are satisfied and permit him to go. After a short respite he is again brought into the inner apartment, and after shaving, bathing and changing his clothes, he is made to go almost through the same course of female rites as he had to perform on the preceding night, with this difference only, that no officiating priest is required to help on the occasion. This rite is named Bassi Bibáha (not new marriage), all the ceremonials being conducted by the females. It would be tedious to inflict on the reader a recapitulation of the same, but suffice it to say, that in all the primary pervading principle is plainly perceptible, namely, the long life and conjugal felicity of the happy pair. It is a remarkable fact that in the opinion of the Hindoo females the wider the circle of matrimonial ceremonies, the greater the chance of securing the favor of Hymen. At the conclusion, the boy and girl are directed to say that they have passed the state of celibacy and entered on that of matrimony. "Marriage is honorable in all and the bed undefiled."

As morning advances, the bridegroom walking, and the bride in the arms of her relative, are next brought into a room—the women blowing the conch and sprinkling water,—and made to sit near each other. They then play with cowries, (shells) the girl is told to take up a few cowries in her left hand and put them near the boy, while on the other hand the boy is told to take up as much as his right hand can contain and put them before the girl, the meaning of which is, that the girl would spend sparingly and the boy give her abundantly. They then play with four very small earthen pots, called mooglivhur, filled with rice and peas; the girl first opens the lids of the pots and throws the contents on a Koolo, (winnowing fan) the boy takes it up and fills the pots, the girl slowly puts the lids on and inaudibly repeats the name of her husband for the first time,[36] expressing a hope that by the above process she stops his mouth and curbs his tongue, that he may never abuse her. As the first course of breakfast, fruits and sweetmeats are served to the bridegroom and the bride. He eats a little and is requested to offer a portion of the same to his wife, whose modesty forbids her to accept any in his presence, but the earnest importunities of the nearest of kin overcome her shyness, and she is at length prevailed upon to taste a little which is offered her by the hand of her husband, the females expressing a desire at the same time that she may continue to eat from the same hand to the end of her days. They then receive the benedictions of the male and female members of the family in money, dooav grass and paddy, which embody a prayer to the God for her everlasting happiness. A second course of breakfast consisting of boiled rice, dhall, fish and vegetable curries in great variety, sweetmeats, sour and sweet milk is next brought for the bridegroom; seeing that he eats very slowly and scantily through shame, his sisters-in-law help him with handfuls of rice and curries, &c. After he has finished eating, the residue of the victuals is given to his wife in a separate room, because it is customary that she should use the same that day, with a view to cement mutual love and affection.

Preparations are now being made for the return of the procession to the house of the bridegroom, but before it starts some pecuniary matters are to be settled. The father of the bridegroom gives fifty Rupees as Sarjaytollánee for the benefit of the sisters of the bride, and the father of the bride must give the same sum, if not a larger one, as Nanadkhaymee for the benefit of the sisters of the bridegroom. Then the difficult problem of Samajeek is to be solved. In almost every case, the question is not decided without some discussion. Hindoos are above all tenacious of caste when the question is one of Rupees and pice. Crowds of Bháts, fakeers, nagas, raywos, and mendicants shouting at times "Jay, Jay," victory, victory; "Bar, konay bachay thakoog," may the bridegroom and bride live long, impatiently wait in the street for their usual alms. They get a few annas each and disperse. Professional Ghatucks, genealogists and Brahmins also come in for their share and are not disappointed. Then comes the interesting and affecting part of the ceremonial, the jattra, or the approaching departure of the happy pair for the house of the bridegroom. A small brass pot filled with holy water and a small wooden pot of vermillion being placed before them, they are made to sit on the two wooden pirays on which they sat the previous evening at the time of marriage, and the females touch their foreheads with sour milk, shiddi (hemp), and the consecrated urghi of the goddess Doorga,[37] which latter is kept in a tuft on the Khopa or ringlet of the bride's hair for eight days. Her forehead is also rubbed with vermillion, the emblem of a female whose husband is alive. This is followed by the rite of Kanokanjooley already described, but this time the father of the bride throws the brass plate right over her head into the cloth of his wife, who stands for the purpose behind her daughter. A sudden and solemn pause is perceptible here, betokening the subsidence of joy and the advent of sorrow. In the midst of the company, mostly females, the father and mother of the bride, alternately clasping both the hands of the bridegroom, with tears in their eyes, commit the very responsible trust of the young wife to his charge, saying at the same time in a faltering tone, among other things, that "hitherto our daughter was placed under our care, but now through the Bhabiturbee or kind dispensation of Providence, she is consigned for ever to your charge, may you kindly overlook her shortcomings and frailties and prove your fidelity by constancy." At this parting expression, tears start into the eyes of all the females who are naturally more susceptible than the sterner sex. With sorrowful countenances and deep emotion they look steadfastly at the married pair and imploringly beseech the bridegroom to treat the bride with all the tenderness of an affectionate husband. The scene is exceedingly affecting, and the sweet sorrow of parting does not permit him to say Bidaya or farewell to the bridegroom. The mother-in-law, especially, should the bride be her only daughter, is overwhelmed with grief, and if she does not cry bitterly, her suppressed emotion is unmistakable; the idea even of a temporary separation is enough to break her heart, and no consolation can restore the natural serenity of her mind.[38] Her relatives endeavour to cheer her by reminding her of their and her own cases, and declare that all females are born to share the same fate. They scarcely enter the world before they must leave their parents and intermarry into other families. This is their destiny, and this the law of Juggut (the world), and they must all abide by it. Instead of repining, she ought to pray to Debta (god,) "that her daughter should ever continue to live at her father-in-law's, use Sidoor (vermillion) on her grey head, wear out her iron bangle, and be a junma ayestri," blessings which are all enjoyed by a female whose husband is alive. Such powerful arguments and undeniable examples partially restore the equanimity of her mind, and she is half persuaded to join her friends and go and see the procession from the top of the house. The same tumult and bustle which ensued at the time of coming now prevail at the departure of the bridegroom in his Sookasun, and the bride in her closely covered crimson Mohápáyá, preceded by all the tinsel trappings and bands of English and Native musicians. The procession slowly moves forward with all the pomp and consequence of a grand, imposing exhibition, amidst the staring of the wondering populace and of the sight-seeing public. "It is on such occasions," as Macaulay observes, "that tender and delicate women, whose veils had never been lifted before the public gaze, came forth from the inner chambers in which Eastern jealousy keeps watch over their beauty." The great body of Barjattars—bridegroom's friends—who graced the procession with their presence the previous night, do not accompany it now on its return homewards, and notwithstanding all the vigilance of the extra guards, the mob scrambles and forcibly takes away the tinsel flower and fruit trees on the way. In an hour or two, all the objects of wonder vanish from the sight, and leave no mark behind them: "the gaze of fools, the pageant of a day."

On the arrival of the procession at its destination, the bridegroom alights from the Sookasun and the bride from the Mohápáyá, under which, by way of welcome, is thrown a ghara, or pot of water. Hereupon the silk chadur or scarf of the bridegroom, so long in the possession of the bride, being entwined between both while the conch is blowing, they are taken into the inner apartment, the former walking, the latter in the arms of one of her nearest female relatives whose husband is alive. The boy is made to stand on an allpana piray (white-painted wooden seat), the girl on a thálá or metal plate filled with milk and altawater, and holding in her hand a live shole fish. A small earthen pot of milk is put upon the fire by a female whose husband is alive, and when through heat it overflows, the veil of the girl being lifted, she is desired to witness the overflowing process and say gently three times, "may the wealth and resources of her father-in-law overflow," while her mother-in-law puts round her left hand an iron bangle,[39] and with the usual benediction that she may be ever blessed with her husband, rubs the middle of her forehead with a little vermillion. A small basket of paddy or unhusked rice, over which stands a small pot of vermillion, is placed on the head of the bride, which the bridegroom holds with his left hand, and when they are both greeted three times with the Sree, Barandala Koolo, water, plantain, betel and betel-nuts, as has been described before, by the bridegroom's mother, he, with his pair of nut-crackers in his right hand, throws over the ground a few grains of paddy from the reck, walks slowly over a new piece of red bordered cloth into a room, accompanied by his wife and preceded by other females, one of whom blows a conch and another sprinkles water,—both tokens of an auspicious event.

When all are properly seated upon bedding spread on the floor, the bridegroom and the bride play again the game of jatook with cowries (shells)[40] as before. They afterwards receive the usual asseerbad (blessing) in paddy, doov-grass and money. The mother-in-law in order to ensure the permanent submissiveness of the bride puts honey into her ears and sugar into her mouth that she may receive her commands and execute them like a sweet obedient girl. Some females then, placing a male child on the thigh of the bridegroom, desire him to hand it to the bride. According to prescribed custom, the mother-in-law, on first seeing the face of her daughter-in-law, presents her with a pair of gold bangles. Other near female relatives, following her example, present her severally with a pair of gold armlets, a pearl necklace, a set of gold pitjhapa, or an ornament for the back, jingling as the girl moves, a pair of diamond cut gold ear-rings set in precious stones, and so on. To account for the common desire of the Hindoos to give a profusion of jewels to their females, Menu, their great fountain of authority, enjoins "let women be constantly supplied with ornaments at festivals and jubilees, for if the wife be not elegantly attired, she will not exhilarate her husband. A wife gaily adorned, the whole house is embellished."

She is next taken into the kitchen, where all sorts of cooked victuals, except meat, are prepared in great abundance. She is desired to look at them and pray to God that her father-in-law may always enjoy plenty. Returning from the cookroom, the bridegroom gives into her hands an embroidered Benares saree as also a brass thala, (plate) with a few batees (cups) containing boiled rice, dhall, and all the prepared curries, vegetables, and fish, frumenty, &c., and addresses her, declaring that from this day forward he undertakes to support her with food and clothes. He then partakes of the dinner and retires, while the bride is made to share the residue.[41] She is thus taught, from the moment of her union at the Hymeneal altar, her fundamental duty of absolute submission to, and utter dependence on, her husband. Should she be of dark complexion and her features not beautiful, the bridegroom is thus twitted by his elder brothers' wives: "you all along disliked a kalo (black) girl, now what will you do, thacoorpo? Surely you cannot forsake her, we will see by-and-bye you shall have to wash her feet." Words like these pierce the heart of the bridegroom, but politeness forbids him to reply. As regards the power of woman, the same lawgiver says—"a female is able to draw from the right path in this life, not a fool only, but even a sage, and can lead him in subjection to desire or to wrath."

The nearest relatives and friends of the family are invited to partake of the Bowbhát or bridal dinner consisting of boiled rice, dhall, fish and vegetable curries, frumenty, polowya, &c., served to the guests by the bride's own hands, which is tantamount to her recognition as one of the members of the family. To eat unna (boiled rice) is one thing and to eat jalpan (loochees and sweetmeats) is quite another. A Hindoo can take the latter at the house of one of inferior caste, but he would lose his caste if he were to eat the former at the same place. Even among equals of the same caste, and much more among inferiors, boiled rice is not taken without mature consideration, and some sort of compensation from the inferior to the superior for condescending to eat the same. The compensation is made in money and clothes according to the rank of the Koolins. Before departing, the guests invited to the Bowbhát at which they eat boiled rice from the hands of the bride, give her one, two, or more Rupees each.

The day following is a very interesting day or rather night, being the night of Foolsajya[42] or flowery bed. At about eight o'clock in the evening the father of the bride sends to his son-in-law ample presents of all sorts of fruits in or out of season, home and bazar made sweetmeats, some in the shape of men, women, fishes, birds, carriages, horses, elephants, &c., &c., each weighing from 6 to 10 lbs., sweet and sour milk (bátásá,) a kind of sweet cakes, chineere moorkey, paddy, fried and sugared comfits, spices of all sorts, betel and prepared betel-nuts, sets of ornaments and toys made of cutch, representing railway carriages, gardens, house, dancing girls, &c., imitation pearl necklaces made of rice, imitation gold necklace made of paddy, colored imitation fruits made of curd[43], butter, sugar, sugar-candy, chána (coagulated milk), otto of rose, rose-water, chaplets of flowers and flower ornaments, in great variety, Dacca and embroidered Benares dhooty and saree for the boy and the girl, clothes for all the elderly females, couch-cot, beddings, sets of silver and brass utensils, carpet, embroidered shoes, gold watch and chain, &c., &c. Between 125 and 150 servants, male and female, carry these articles, some in banghy, some in baskets, and some in large brass thálás or trays. These presents being properly arranged in the Thácoor-dállán the male friends of the family are invited to come down and see them, some praising the choice assortment and large variety, as well as the taste of the father of the bride, while others more calculating make an estimate as to the probable cost of the whole. These articles are then removed into the inner apartment, where the females, naturally loquacious, criticise them according to their judgment; the simple and the good-natured say they are good and satisfactory, others more fastidious find fault with them. They are, however, soon silenced by the prudent remarks of the adult male members of the family. The servants are next fed and dismissed with presents of money, some receiving one Rupee each being the servants of the bride's family, some half a Rupee being the servants of other families. They then take back all the brass thálás and trays, leaving the baskets behind.

Here we come to the climax of interest. The bridegroom and the bride, adorned with a wealth of flower wreaths, and dressed in red-bordered Dacca clothes, with sandal paste on their foreheads, and sitting side by side in the presence of females whose husbands are alive, are desired to eat even a small portion of the articles of food that have been presented, and what is the most interesting feature in the scene, is that the former helps the latter and the latter helps the former, both throwing aside for the first time the restraint which modesty naturally imposes on such an occasion. To be more explicit, the boy eats one half of a sweetmeat and gives the other half to the girl, and the girl in her turn is constrained to follow the same example, though with a blushing countenance and a veiled face. Female modesty predominates in this isolated instance. If the boy give blushingly, the girl gives shyly and tremulously; in spite of her best efforts, she cannot consistently make up her mind to lift up her right hand and stretch it towards the mouth of her husband, but is after all helped to do so by a woman, whose husband is alive. This process of eating[44] and mutual help, when three days have scarcely passed over their heads, naturally gives rise to joy, merriment and laughter among the females; and one amongst them exclaims; "look, look, Soudaminey, how our new Rádha and Krishna are sitting side by side and eating together; may they live long and sport thus." The mother of the boy watches the progress of the interesting scene, and in transports of joy wishes for their continued felicity. The young and sprightly, who have once passed through the same process, and whose hearts are enlivened by the reminiscences of past occurrences, too recent to be forgotten, tarry in the room to the last moment, till sleep weighing down the eyelids of the happy pair, the mother of the bridegroom gently calls them aside, and leaves them to rest undisturbed. In accordance with the old established custom, their bed is strewn with flowers and their bodies perfumed with otto of rose. This is not enough for the sprightly ladies, the complement of whose amusement and merriment is not yet full. Even if the night be a chilly one, regardless of the effects of exposure, they must aripato, or jealously watch through the crevices of windows, whether or not the boy talks to the girl, and if he do, what is the nature of the talk. Thus they pass the whole night prying and laughing, chatting with each other on subjects suited to their taste and mode of thought. When morning dawns, the boy opening the door goes outside, and the girl slowly walks to her maid-servants, who accompanied her from her father's house. Her whole desire is to get back to her mother and sisters; nothing can reconcile her to her new home; novelty has no charms for her except in her paternal domicile. She repeatedly asks her maid-servants as to when the Palkee will come, and what is the time fixed for her jattra, (departure); the maid-servants, consoling her, induce her to wash her mouth and break her fast with a few sweetmeats. In obedience to the kind instruction of her mother, she sits closely veiled and talks little, if at all, even to young girls of her tender age. She next takes her vojan, or dinner, and to while away time, little girls try to amuse her with toys or a game at cards; at length the time comes for the toilet work, and the arrival of the covered Mohapaya is announced. She again takes a few sweetmeats, and making a pronam (bow) to all her superiors, is helped into the Palkee by her mother-in-law, a female having previously washed her feet. The usual benediction on such an occasion is, "may you continue to live under the roof of your father-in-law in the enjoyment of conjugal bliss."

On the arrival of the Mahápáyá at her father's house, almost all the females come out for a moment, taking care previously to have the suddur door bolted and the Palkee bearers removed. They cheerfully welcome the return of the girl home. Her mother, unveiling her face and taking her in her arms, thus affectionately addresses her, "my Bacha, (child) my sonarchand (golden moon) where have you been? Did not your heart mourn for us?" Our house looked khakha (desolate) in your absence. "What did they (bridegroom's family) say about our dayway thowya (presents)? Did they express any nindya, (dissatisfaction)? How have the women behaved towards you? How are your sassooree and sasoor (mother-in-law and father-in-law,)?" Thus interrogating, they all walk inside and, making the girl change her silk clothes and sit near them, begin to examine and criticise the ornaments given her by her father-in-law. "Let us see the pearl necklace first," says Bhoopada? "The pearls are not smooth and round, what may be its value?" Geeri Balla, taking her own pearl necklace from off her neck, compares the one with the other. They unanimously pronounce the latter to be more costly than the former; be that as it may, its value cannot be less than Rupees 500. They next take in hand the pitjapa, ornament for the back, looking at it for a few minutes they pass their opinion, saying it is heavier and better made than that of Geeri Balla. The Sita haur, or Jarawya[45] (gold necklace) afterwards attracts their attention, and they roughly estimate its price at Rupees 350. It is not a little surprising that though these women are never permitted to go beyond the precincts of the zenana, yet their valuation of ornaments, unless it be a jarawya bijoutry of enormous cost, such as is worn on grand occasions by the wife of a "big swell," often bears the nearest approximation to the intrinsic worth of an article. Thus almost every ornament, one after another, forms the subject of their criticism. When their discussion is over, the girl is desired to take the greater portion of her ornaments off her body—save a pair of gold balla[46] on her hands and a necklace on her neck—and leave them to the care of her mother. She then mixes in the company of other little girls of her tender age, some married, some unmarried; who curiously ask her all about her new friends, until their talk resumes its usual childish topics. She passes the day among them very pleasantly, so much so that when her mother calls her to take her luncheon, she stays back and says only "jachee, jachee," (coming, coming,) her mind being so much absorbed in her juvenile sports.

The next day is again a day of trial for her, she has to go for gharbasath[47] to her father-in-law's house. On awaking, she remembers where she will have to go in course of the day; a sensation bordering on sulkiness almost unconsciously steals upon her, and as time passes it increases in intensity. About four in the afternoon the arrival of the Mahápáyá is announced, her sister combs her hair and adorns her person with all the ornaments she has lately received. Dressed in her bridal silk saree, her eyes seem charged with tears, and symptoms of reluctance are visible in every step; but go she must; no alternative is left her. So her mother helps her into the Mahápáyá and orders a durwan and two maid-servants to accompany her, not forgetting to assure her that she is to be brought back the next day. Despite this assurance, she whimpers and weeps, and is consoled on the way by her maid-servants. At her father-in-law's, young girls of her age being impatient to receive her, are seen moving backwards and forwards to get a glimpse of the Mahápáyá, the arrival of which is a signal for almost all the ladies to come out and greet the object of their affection. Her mother-in-law steps forward, and taking up the girl in her arms walks inside, followed by a train of other ladies, whose hearts are exhilarated again at the prospect of merriment at the expense of the married pair. When the time comes round for them to retire, the same scene of arepáta is re-enacted by the mirth-loving ladies, with all their "quips and cranks and wanton wiles." At day-break, the girl, as must naturally be expected, quietly walks to her confidential maid-servant, and whispers her to go and tell her mother to send the Mahápáyá Palkee as early as possible. Bearing her message, one of them goes for the purpose but the mother replies, How can she send the Palkee except at the lucky hour after dinner? When this reply is communicated to the girl, she sits sulkily aloof, until her mother-in-law cajoles her and offers for her breakfast a few sweetmeats with milk. After a great deal of hesitation she complies with her request, which, to be effective, is always accompanied by a threat of not allowing her to return to her father's in the event of a refusal. About ten o'clock she takes her regular breakfast as described before, but she does not eat with zest, for whatever delicacy may be offered her, it palls upon her taste; continually brooding on the idea of a return home. This is the day when the bridegroom and the bride untie from each other's hand the yellow home-spun charka thread with which they were entwined on the day of marriage, as a mark of their indissoluble union. At length the lucky hour arrives, and with it the Mahápáyá comes. The very announcement of the fact revives the drooping spirits of the bride. After going through the usual toilet work and a slight repast, she gets into the covered conveyance, assisted by her mother-in-law and other ladies. When she returns home, she changes her bridal silk garment and strips herself of the greater portion of her ornaments. Now uncontrolled and unreserved, she breathes a free, genial, atmosphere; her mother and sisters welcome her with their heartfelt congratulations, and she moves about with her wonted buoyancy of spirit. Throwing aside her sulkiness, she commingles readily in conversation with all around her. She praises the amiable qualities of her father-in-law and mother-in-law, and the very kind treatment she has had while under their roof, but she keeps her reserve when even the slightest allusion is made to her husband, because this is to her young mind forbidden ground on which she cannot venture to tread without violating the sacred rules of conventionalism.

At the marriages of rich families, as will be understood from our description, vast sums of money are expended. The greatest expense is incurred in purchasing jewels and making presents of brass utensils, shawls, clothes, sweetmeats, &c., to Brahmins, Koolins, Ghatacks and numerous friends, relatives and acquaintances, besides illuminations, fireworks and all the pageantry of a pompous procession. In and about Calcutta, the Rajahs of Shobabazar, the Dey family, the Mullick family, the Tagore family, the Dutt family, the Ghosal family, and others, are reported to have spent from fifty thousand rupees to two lakhs (£5,000 to £20,000) and upwards in the marriages of their sons. Whilst writing this I am told Maharajah Jotendro Mohun Tagore is said to have expended about two lakhs of rupees in the marriage of his nephew. The most interesting feature in the extraordinary munificence of the Moharajah is, as I have learnt, his princely contribution to the "District Charitable Society,"—an act of benevolence which has shewn, in a very conspicuous manner, not only his good sense, but his warm sympathy with the cause of suffering humanity. It were to be wished that his noble example would exercise some influence on other Hindoo millionaires. If a tithe of such marriage expenses were devoted to Public Charity, the poor and helpless would ceaselessly chant the names of such donors, and the reward would be something better than the transient admiration of the idle populace.

For one or two years after marriage, the girl generally remains under the paternal roof, occasionally paying a visit to her father-in-law's as need be. As she advances in years, her repugnance—the effect of early marriage—to live with her husband is gradually overcome, till time and circumstances completely reconcile her to her future home. Her affection grows, and she learns to appreciate the grave meaning of a married life. She is still, however, but a girl, in habit and ideas, when the real union of wedded life or the second marriage takes place, which is solemnised when she arrives at the age of puberty, say at her twelfth or thirteenth year. There is a popular belief, whether erroneous or not it is not for me to decide, that in this country heat accelerates growth, and hence the Hindoo Shasturs enjoin the necessity of early marriage, the injurious consequences of which are chiefly seen in the weak constitution of the offspring, and the premature decay of the mother.

So abominable are some of the ceremonies connected with this event in the life of a female that to describe them fully would be an outrage on common decency.[48] I will, therefore, confine myself to a description of the ceremonies, entirely abstaining from an allusion to the abominations connected therewith. A general depravity of manners can only account for the prevalence of this obnoxious institution, in the eradication of which every Hindoo whose moral sense is not entirely blunted ought to co-operate. As the delay of the union is in the belief of a Hindoo an unpardonable sin, the fact referred to is announced by the sound of a conch, and the bodies of all the females are smeared with turmeric water,—an unmistakable evidence of joy. The news is also conveyed to the nearest relatives by the family barber who receives presents of clothes and money. It is quite evident from the silence of the Hindoo Shastur on the subject that the origin of the female rites is comparatively recent. Irrespective of the religious observances, it affords an opportunity to the zenana females to indulge in obscene depravities, the outcome of vitiated feeling.

The poor girl is placed on this occasion in the corner of a dark, dingy room, with a small round pebble before her, shut out from the gaze of men, and surrounded on four sides by four pieces of slender split bamboos about one yard long fastened by a piece of thread. This is called the teerghur mentioned before. Being regarded as unclean, she remains in this room for four days without a bedding or a musquito curtain, and no one touches her, not even her sisters. She is forbidden to see the sun, her diet is confined to boiled rice, milk, sugar, curd, and tamarind without salt. On the morning of the fifth day, she is taken to a neighbouring tank, accompanied by five women whose husbands are alive. Smeared with turmeric water, they all bathe and return home, throwing away the mat and other things that were in the room. She then sits in another room, and a very low caste woman, in the presence of five other respectable females (not widows), performs a series of what is vulgarly called Nith Kith,[49] purely female rites, which are exceedingly indecent and immoral, so much so that a woman who has any sense of shame feels quite disgusted. During the day, according to previous invitations, numerous female guests assemble and partake of a good dinner provided for the occasion. They are also entertained with songs, dancing and music, all done by professional females. When the guests retire, they congratulate the girl with the usual benediction to the effect,—"may you be blessed with a male child."

After a day or two the religious part of the ceremony is performed, which is free from obscenity. On this occasion, the officiating priest reading, and the bridegroom repeating the service after him, presents offerings of rice, sweetmeats, plantain, clothes, doov-grass, fruits and flowers to the following gods and goddesses, viz., Shasthi, Márcando, Soorja, Soobhachini, Gannesh, and the nine planets, much in the same way as when the nuptial rites were formally solemnized. After this the hands of the bridegroom and the bride are joined together, and the priest repeating certain formulas, the bridegroom then causes a ring to slide between the bride's silk garment and her waist. Twenty-one small images (twenty male and one female) made of pounded rice are placed before the happy pair, and the priest feeds the bride with sugar, clarified butter, milk, and the urine and dung of a calf to ensure the purity of the offspring. They then partake of a good dinner, the bride taking the residue of the bridegroom's meal. The twenty-one images are put into the room of the pair as a token of happy offspring, and the proportion of the males to the females, shews the premium and discount at which they are respectively held. The bride now takes up her permanent residence in the house of her father-in-law and becomes one of his family.

For one twelve month after the marriage, the parents of the bridegroom and the bride have to make exchanges of suitable presents to one another at all the grand festivals. At the first tatto or present, besides clothes, heaps of fruits, sweetmeats, English toys and sundries, the father of the youth gives one complete set of miniature silver and brass utensils to the girl, while in return the father of the girl sends such presents as a table, chair, writing desk, silver inkstand, gold and silver pencil cases, stationery, perfumery, &c., in addition to an equally large quantity of choice eatables of all kinds too numerous to be detailed. The most expensive presents are two, namely, the sittory or winter present and the Doorga Poojah present, the former requiring a Cashmere shawl, choga and sundry other articles of use, and the latter, fine Dacca and silk clothes to the whole family, including men, women and children.

It is a lamentable fact that though a Hindoo bears a great love and affection to his wife while she lives, yet in the event of her death, the effects of these amiable qualities are too soon effaced by the strong influence of a new passion, and another union is very speedily formed. Even during the period of his mourning, which lasts one month, proposals for a second marriage are entertained, if not by the husband himself, by his father or elder brother. When the remembrance of this heavy domestic bereavement is so very fresh in the memory, it is highly unbecoming and ungenerous to open or enter into a matrimonial negotiation, and have it consummated immediately after the asúchi or mourning is over. A wife is certainly not a beast of burden that is no sooner removed by death than it may be replaced by another. She is a being whose joy and sorrow, happiness and misery, should be identical with her husband's, and he is a savage in the widest sense of the word who does not cherish a sacred regard for her memory after her death. In regard to the whole conduct and relations of the married life, Hindoos cannot have the golden rule too strongly impressed: "Let every one of you in particular so love his wife, even as himself; and let the wife see that she reverence her husband."

VI.

THE BROTHER FESTIVAL.

Any social institution that has a tendency to promote the growth of genuine love and affection between man and woman, is naturally conducive to the happiness of both. In this sublunary vale of tears, where unalloyed felicity is but transient and short lived, even a temporary exemption from the cares and anxieties of the world adds at least some moments of pleasure to life. The Bhratridvitiya, or fraternal rite of the Hindoos, is an institution of this nature, being admirably calculated to cement the natural bond of union between brothers and sisters of the same family. Bhratridvitiya, as the name imports, takes place on the second day of the new moon immediately following the Kali Poojah or Dewali. On the morning of this day, a brother comes to the house of a sister, and receives from her hand the usual benedictive present of unhusked rice, doova grass and sandal, with a wealth of good wishes for his long, prosperous life, and the happy commemoration of the event from year to year. The brother in return reciprocates, and putting a Rupee or two into her hands, expresses a similar good wish, with the addition that she may long continue to enjoy the blessings of a conjugal life,—a benediction which she values over every other worldly advantage. The main object of this festival is to renovate and intensify the warmth of affection between kith and kin of both sexes by blessing each other on a particular day of the year. It is a sort of family reunion, pre-eminently calculated to recall the early reminiscences of life, and to freshen up fraternal and sisterly love. No ritualistic rite or priestly interposition is necessary for the purpose, it being a purely social institution, originating in the love that sweetens life.

After interchanging salutations, the sister who has every thing ready thrice invokes a blessing upon the brother in a Bengali verse, and marks his forehead thrice with sandal paste by the tip of her little finger. She then serves him with the provisions provided for the festive occasion. Here genuine love and true affection almost spontaneously gush forth from the heart of the sister towards one who is united to her by the nearest tie of consanguinity and tenderest remembrances. If the brother be not inclined to relish or taste a particular dish, how affectionately does she cajole him to try it, adding at the same time that it has been prepared by her own hand with the greatest care. Any little dislike evinced by the brother instantly bathes her eyes in tears, and disposes her to exclaim somewhat in the following strain: "Why is this slight towards a poor sister who has been up till twelve o'clock last night to prepare for you the chunderpooley and Khirarchách (two sorts of home-made sweetmeats) regardless of the cries of Khoká (the baby)." Such a pathetic, tender expression bursting from the lips of a loving sister cannot fail to melt a brother's heart, and overcome his dislike.

About four o'clock in the afternoon, the sister sends, as tangible memorials of her affection, presents of clothes and sweetmeats to the house of the brother, fondly indulging in the hope that they may be acceptable to him. On this particular day, Hindoo homes as well as the streets of Calcutta in the native part of the town, present the lively appearance of a national jubilee. Each of the brothers of the family visits each of the sisters in turn. Hundreds of male and female servants are busily engaged in carrying presents, and return home quite delighted. On such occasions the heart of a Hindoo female, naturally soft and tender, becomes doubly expansive when the outflow of love and affection on her part is fully reciprocated by the effusion of good wishes on the part of her brother.

VII.

THE SON-IN-LAW FESTIVAL.

If not precisely analogous in all its prominent features to the popular festival described in the preceding Chapter, the following bears a striking resemblance to it, in its adaptation to promote domestic happiness. The festival familiarly known in Bengal by the name of "Jamai Shasthi" is an entertainment given in honor of a son-in-law, in order to bind him more closely to his wife's family.

Nothing better illustrates the manners and usages of a nation from a social and religious standpoint than the festivals and ceremonies which are observed by it. They form the essential parts of what DeQuincey calls the equipage of life. As a nation, the Hindoos are proverbially fond of festivals, which are engrafted, as it were, on their peculiar domestic and social economy. A designing priesthood had concocted an almost endless round of superstitious rites with the view of acquiring power, and looking for permanent reverence to the credulity of the blind devotees. Such foolish rites are eventually destined to fall into desuetude, as popular enlightenment progresses, but those which are free from the taint of priestcraft by reason of their being interwoven into the social amenities of life, are likely to prevail long after the subversion of priestly ascendency. And Jamai Shasthi is a festival of this unobjectionable type. No superstitious element enters into its observance.

It invariably takes place on the sixth day[50] of the increase of the moon in the Bengali month of May, when ripe mangoes—the prince of Indian fruits—are in full season. Then all the mothers-in-law in Bengal are actually on the qui vive to welcome their sons-in-law and turn a new leaf in the chapter of their joys. A good son-in-law is emphatically the most darling object of a Hindoo mother-in-law. She spares no possible pains to please and satisfy him, even calling to her aid the supernatural agency of charms. Ostensibly and even practically a Hindoo mother-in-law loves her son-in-law more than her son, simply because the son can shift for himself even if turned adrift in the wide world, but the daughter is absolutely helpless, and the cruel institution of perpetual widowhood, with its appalling amount of misery and risk, renders her tenfold more so.

On this festive occasion, the son-in-law is invited to spend the day and night at his father-in-law's house. No pains or expense is spared to entertain him. When he comes in the morning, the first thing he has to do is to go into the female apartment, bow his head down in honor of his mother-in-law, and put on the floor a few Rupees, say five or ten, sometimes more if newly married. The food consists of all the delicacies of the season, and both the quantity and variety are often too great to be done justice to. The perfection of Hindoo culinary art is unreservedly brought into requisition on such occasions. Surrounded by a galaxy of beauty, the youthful son-in-law is restrained by a sense of shame from freely partaking of the feast specially provided for him. The earnest importunity of the females urges the bashful youth to eat more and more. If this be his first visit as son-in-law he finds himself quite bewildered in the midst of superfluity and superabundance of preparations. Many are the tricks employed to outwit him. With all his natural shrewdness, and forewarned by the females of his own family, he is no match for either the playful humor and frolics of the young, sprightly ladies. Sham articles of food cleverly dressed in close imitation of fruits and sweetmeats are offered him without detection in the full blaze of day, and the attempt to partake of them excites bursts of laughter and merriment. The utmost female ingenuity is here brought into play to call forth amusement at the expense of the duped youth. In their own way, the good-natured females are mistresses of jokes and jests, and nothing pleases them better than to find the youthful new comer completely nonplused. This forms the favorite subject of their talk long after the event. Shut up in the cage of a secluded zenana, quite beyond the influence of the outside world, it is no wonder that their minds and thoughts do not rise above the trifles of their own narrow circle.

As in the case of the "Brother" festival, ample presents of clothes, fruits, and sweetmeats are sent to the house of the son-in-law, and every lane and street of Calcutta is thronged with male and female servants trudging along with their loads in full hopes of getting their share of eatables and a Rupee or a half Rupee each into the bargain.

VIII.

THE DOORGA POOJAH FESTIVAL.

By far the most popular religious festival of the present day among the Hindoos of Bengal, is the Doorga Poojah, which in the North-Western and Central Provinces is called the Dusserah festival. It is believed that the worship of the goddess Doorgah has been performed from time out of mind. The following is a description of the image of the goddess which is set up for worship: "In one of her right hands is a spear, with which she is piercing the giant, Mohishasur; with one of the left, she holds the tail of a serpent and the hair of the giant, whose breast the serpent is biting. Her other hands are all stretched behind her head and filled with different instruments of war. Against her right leg leans a lion, and against her left, the above giant. The images of Luckee, Saraswathi, Kartick and Gannesh are very frequently made and placed by the side of the goddess." The majestic deportment of the goddess, with her three eyes and ten arms, the warlike attitude in which she is represented, her sanguinary character, which was the terror of all other gods, and the mighty exploits (far surpassing in feats of strength, courage and heroism, those of the Greek Hercules,) all combine to give her an importance in the eyes of the people, which is seldom vouchsafed to any other deity. Even Bramah, Vishnoo and Shiva the Creator, Preserver and Destroyer of the world, were said to have propitiated her, and Ram Chunder, the deified hero, invoked her aid in his contest with Ravana, and as he worshipped her in the month of October, her Poojah has, from that particular circumstance, been ever after appointed to take place in that period of the year.[51] A short description of this festival, the preliminary rites with which it is associated, and the national excitement and hilarity which its periodical return produces among the people, will not be altogether uninteresting to European readers.[52]

Twenty-one days before the commencement of the Doorga Poojah festival, a preliminary rite, by way of purifying the body and soul by means of ablution, is performed. The rite is called the "Aapar pakhaya tarpan" so called from its taking place on the first day of Pratipad and ending on the fifteenth day of Amábashya, an entire fortnight, immediately preceding the Debipakhya during which the Poojah is celebrated. It generally falls between the fifteenth of September, and the fifteenth of October. As already observed, this popular festival, called Doorga Poojah in Bengal and Dussera "or the tenth" in the North-West, although entirely military in its origin is universally respected. It is commemorative of the day on which the god Rám Chunder first marched against his enemy, Rávana, in Lanka or Ceylon for the restoration of his wife, Seeta,[53] who was deservedly regarded as the best model of devotion, resignation and love, as is so beautifully painted by the poet:

"A woman's bliss is found, not in the smile
Of father, mother, friend, nor in herself:
Her husband is her only portion here,
Her heaven hereafter. If thou indeed
Depart this day into the forest drear,
I will precede, and smooth the thorny way."

In the mornings of Apar pakhaya, for fifteen days continually, those who live near the sacred stream go thither with a small copper-pan and some teel seeds, which they sprinkle on the water at short intervals, while repeating the formulæ in a state of half immersion. To a foreigner quite unacquainted with the meaning of these rites, the scene is well calculated to impress the mind with an idea of the exceeding devotedness of the Hindoos in observing their religious ordinances. The holy water and teel seeds which are sprinkled are intended as offerings to the manes of ancestors for fourteen generations, that their souls may continue to enjoy repose to all eternity. The women, though some of them are in the habit of bathing in the holy stream every morning, are, however, precluded by their sex from taking a part in this ceremony. Precisely on the last day of the fortnight, i. e., on the Amabáshya, as if the object were attained, the rite of ablution ends, followed by another of a more comprehensive character. On this particular day, which is called Moháloyá,[54] the living again pay their homage to the memory of the fourteen generations of their ancestors by making them offerings of rice, fruits, sweetmeats, clothes, curded milk, and repeating the incantations said by the priest, at the conclusion of which he takes away all the articles presented and receives his dakshiná of one Rupee for his trouble. Apart from their superstitious tendency, these anniversaries, are not without their beneficial effects. They tend, in no small degree, to inspire the mind with a religious veneration for the memory of the departed worthies, and by the law of the association of ideas not unfrequently bring to recollection their distinctive features and individual characteristics.

Some aristocratic families that have been observing this festival for a long series of years, begin their Kalpa or preliminary rite on the ninth day of the decrease of the moon, when an earthen water pot called ghat[55] is placed in a room called bodanghur, duly consecrated by the officiating priest, who, assisted by two other Brahmins, invokes the blessing of the deity by reading a Sanskrit work, called Chundee, which relates the numerous deeds and exploits of the goddess. It is a noteworthy fact that the Brahmin, who repeats the name of the god, Modosoodun, seems, to all appearance, to be absorbed in mental abstraction. With closed eyes and moving fingers, not unlike the Rishis of old, he, as it were, disdains to look at the external world. From early in the morning till 10 o'clock the worship before the earthen pot is continued, and the officiating priests[56] are strictly prohibited from using sidha, (rice) taking more than one meal a day, or sleeping with their wives, as if that would be an act of unpardonable profanation. This strict regime is to be observed by them until the whole of the ceremonial is completed, on the tenth day of the new moon. It should be mentioned here that the majority of the Hindoos begin their kalpa, or preliminary rite, on pratipad, or the beginning of the new moon, when almost every town and village resounds with the sound of conch, bell and gong, awakening latent religious emotions, and evoking agamaney, (songs or inaugural invocations) which deeply affect the hearts of Doorga's devout followers. Some of these rhythmic effusions are exceedingly pathetic. I wish I could give a specimen here of these songs divested of their idolatrous tinge, but I am afraid of offending the ears of my European readers.

The Brahmins[57] as a rule, commence their kalpa on the sixth day or one day only previous to the beginning of the grand poojah on the seventh day of the new moon. From the commencement of the initial rite, what thrilling sensations of delight are awakened in the bosom of the young boys and girls! Every morning and evening while the ceremony is being solemnized, they scramble with each other to get striking the gong and Kasur which produces a harsh, deafening sound. Their excitement increases in proportion to the nearer approach of the festival, and the impression which they thus receive in their early days is not entirely effaced even after their minds are regenerated by the irresistible light of truth. The females, too, manifest mingled sensations of delight and reverence. If they are incapable of striking the gongs, they are susceptible of deep devotional feelings which the solemnity of the occasion naturally inspires. The encircling of their neck with the end of their saree or garment, expressive of humility, the solemn attitude in which they pose, their inaudible muttering of the name of the goddess, and their prostrating themselves before the consecrated pot in a spirit of perfect resignation, denote a state of mind full of religious fervour, or, more properly speaking, of superstitious awe, which goes with them to their final resting place. On the night of the sixth day (Shashti) after the increase of the moon, another rite is performed, which is termed Uddhibassey, its object being to welcome the advent of the visible goddess with all necessary paraphernalia. Another sacred earthen pot is placed in the outer temple of the goddess, and a young plantain tree, with a couple of wood apples intended for the breast, is trimmed for the next morning's ablution. This plantain tree, called kalabhoye, is designed as a personification of Doorga in another shape. It is dressed in a silk saree, its head is daubed with vermilion[58] and is placed by the side of Gannesh. Musicians with their ponderous dhak and dhole and sannai (flutes) are retained from this day for five days at 12 or 16 Rupees for the occasion.[59] That music imparts a solemnity to religious service is admitted by all, but its harmony may be taken as an indication of the degree of excellence and refinement to which a nation has attained in the scale of civilization. What with the sonorous sound of dhak and dhole, sannai, conch and gong, the effect cannot fail to be impressive to a devout Hindoo mind. Except Brahmins, no one is allowed to touch the idol from this night, after the bellbarun, when it is supposed life and animation is imparted into it. By the marvellous repetition of a few incantations a perfectly inanimate object stuffed only with clay and straw, and painted, varnished and ornamented in all the tawdriness of oriental fashion, is suddenly metamorphosed into a living divinity. Can religious jugglery, and blind credulity go farther?

It will not be out of place to say a few words here about the embellishments of the images. As a refined taste is being cultivated, a growing desire is manifested to decorate the idols with splendid tinsel and gewgaws, which are admirably calculated to heighten the magnificence of the scene in popular estimation. Apart from the feast of colors presented to public view, the idols are adorned with tinsel ornaments, which, to an untutored mind, are in the highest degree captivating. Some families that are placed in affluent circumstances, literally rack their brains to discover new and more gaudy embellishments which, when compared with those of their neighbours, might carry off the bubble reputation. It is, perhaps, not generally known that a certain class of men—chiefly drawn from the lower strata of society—subsist on this trade; they prepare a magnificent stock of tinsel wares for a twelve month, and supply the entire Hindoo community, from Calcutta to the remotest provinces and villages. Indeed so great is the rage for novelty and so strong the influence of vanity, that not content with costly home made ornaments, some of the Baboos send their orders to England for new patterns, designs and devices, that they may be able to make an impression on the popular mind; and as English taste is incomparably superior to native taste, both in the excellence and finish of workmanship as well as in neatness and elegance, the images that shine in new fashioned English embellishments[60] are sure to challenge the admiration of the populace. On the day of Nirunjun, or Vhasan as it is vulgarly called, countless myriads of people throng the principal streets of Calcutta, to catch a glimpse of the celebrated pritimas, or images, and carry the information home to their absent friends in the villages.

Before sunrise on Saptami, or the seventh day of the bright phase of the moon, the officiating priest, accompanied by bands of musicians and a few other members of the family, proceeds barefooted to the river side bearing on his shoulder the kalabhoye or plantain tree described above with an air of gravity as if he had charge of a treasure chest of great value. These processions are conducted with a degree of pomp corresponding with the other extraneous splendours of the festival. In Calcutta, bands of English musicians, and numbers of staff holders with high flying colors, give an importance to the scene, which is not ill suited to satisfy the vulgar taste. After performing some minor ceremonies on the banks of the river, and bathing the plantain tree, the procession returns home, escorting the officiating priest with his precious charge in the same way in which he was conveyed to the Ghât. On reaching home, the priest, washing his feet, proceeds to rebathe the plantain tree, rubbing on its body all kinds of scented oils[61] as if to prepare it for a gay, convivial party. This part of the ceremony, with appropriate incantations, being gone through, the plantain tree is placed again by the side of the image of Gannesh, who being the eldest son of Doorga, must be worshipped first. Thus the right of precedence of rank is in full force even among the Hindoo gods and goddesses.

Previous to the commencement of the Saptami, or first Pooja, the officiating priest again consecrates the goddess Doorga, somewhat in the following manner: "Oh, goddess, come and dwell in this image, and bless him that worships you," naming the person, male or female, who is to reap the benefit of the meritorious act. Thus, the business of giving life and eyes to the gods being finished, the priest, with two forefingers of his right hand, touches the forehead, cheeks, eyes, breast and other parts of the image, repeating all the while the prescribed incantation: "May the soul of Doorga long continue to dwell in this image." This part of the ceremony, which is accompanied with music, being performed, offerings are made to all the gods and goddesses, as well as to the companions of Doorga in her wars, which are painted in variegated colors on the chall or shed over the goddess in the form of a crescent. The offerings consist principally of small pieces of gold and silver, rice, fruits, sweetmeats, cloths, brass utensils and a few other things. These are arranged in large round wooden or brass plates, and a bit of flower or bell leaf is cast upon them to guard against their being desecrated by the demon Ravana, who is supposed to take delight in insulting the gods and goddesses; the officiating priest then consecrates them all by repeating a short mantra and sprinkling flowers and bell leaves on them, particular regard being had to the worship of the whole host of deities according to their respective position in the Hindoo pantheon. Even the most subordinate and insignificant gods or companions of Doorga must be propitiated by small bits of plantain and a few grains of rice, which are afterwards given to the idol makers and painters of the gods and goddesses. More valuable offerings form the portion of the Brahmins, who look upon and claim these as their birthright. In the evening, as in the morning, the goddess is again worshipped, and while the service is being held the musicians are called to play their musical instruments with a view to add to the solemnity of the occasion. In the morning, some persons sacrifice goats and fruits, such as pumpkin, sugar-cane, &c., before the goddess. In the present day, many respectable families have discontinued the practice from a feeling of compassion towards the dumb animals, though express injunctions are laid down in the Shasters in its favor. It is a remarkable fact that the idea of sacrifice as a religious institution tending to effect the remission of sin was almost co-existent with the first dawn of human knowledge. The Reverend Dr. K. M. Banerjea thus writes: "Of the inscrutable Will of the Almighty, that without shedding of blood there is no remission of sin, this, too, appears imbedded in ancient Ayrian tradition in the sruti or hearings of our ancestors." Next to the Jews, this religious duty was scrupulously observed by the Brahmins. Names of priests, words for fire, for those on whose behalf the sacrifices were performed, for the materials with which they were performed, abound in language etymologically derived from words implying sacrifice. No literature contains so many vocables relating to sacrificial ceremonies as Sanskrit. Katyayana says, "that heaven and all other happiness are the results of sacrificial ceremonies. And it was a stereotyped idea with the founders of Hindooism that animals were created for sacrifices. Nor were these in olden days considered mere offerings of meat to certain carnivorous deities, followed by the sacrificers themselves feasting on the same, as the practice of the day represents the idea. The various nature of the sacrifices appears to have been substantially comprehended by the promoters of the institution in India. The sacrificer believed himself to be redeemed by means of the sacrifice. The animal sacrificed was itself called the sacrifice, because it was the ransom for the soul." If we leave India and go back to the tradition and history of the other ancient nations, we shall find many instances, proving the existence among them of the sacrificial rite for the remission of sin and the propitiation of the Deity. The hecatombs of Greece, and the memorable dedication of the temple of Solomon when 20,000 oxen[62] and 100,000 sheep were slain before the altar, are too well known to need any comment.

In these later ages, when degeneracy has made rapid strides amongst the people of the country, the original intention of the founder of the institution being lost sight of, a perverted taste has given it an essentially sensual character. Instead of offering sacrifice from purely religious motives, it is now made for the gratification of carnivorous appetite. The late King of Nuddea, Rajah Kristo Chunder Roy, though an orthodox Hindoo of the truest type, was said to have offered at one of these festivals a very large number of goats and sheep to the goddess Doorga. "He began," says Ward, "with one, and, doubling the number each day, continued it for sixteen days. On the last day, he killed 33,168, and on the whole he slaughtered 65,535 animals. He loaded boats with the bodies and sent them to the neighbouring Brahmins, but they could not devour them fast enough, and great numbers were thrown away. Let no one, after this, tell us of the scruples of the Brahmins about destroying animal life and eating animal food."

About twelve o'clock in the day, when the morning service is over, the male members of the family make their poospaunjooley or offerings of flowers to the images, repeating an incantation recited by the priest, for all kinds of worldly blessings, such as health, wealth, fame, long age, children, &c. The women come in afterwards for the same hallowed purpose, and inaudibly recite the incantation repeated by the priest inside the screen. The very sight of the images gladdens their hearts and quickens their throbs. Though fasting, they feel an extreme reluctance to leave the shrine and the divinities, declaring that their hunger and thirst are gone not from actual excess in eating and drinking but from their fullness of heart at the presence of Ma Doorga. But go they must to make way for the servants to remove the offerings, distribute them among the Brahmins, and clean the temple for the evening service, at the close of which Brahmins and other guests begin to come in and partake of the entertainment[63] provided for the occasion.

On the second day of the Poojah, offerings and sacrifices are made in the same manner as on the first day, but this is considered a specially holy day, being the day, as is generally supposed, when the mighty goddess is expected to come down from the mount Himalaya, and cast a twinkling of her eye upon the divers offerings of her devotees in the terrestrial world. This day is called Moha Ustamy, being the eighth day of the increase of the moon, and is religiously observed throughout Bengal. In Calcutta, this is the day when thousands and tens of thousands of Hindoos, who have had no Poojah in their houses, proceed to Kalyghât in the suburbs, and do not break their fast before making suitable offerings to the goddess Kali, who, according to Hindoo mythology, is but another incarnation of the goddess, Doorga. Except little children, almost all the members of a family, male and female, together with the priest, fast all day, and, if the combination of stars require it, almost the whole night. Elderly men of the orthodox type devote the precious time to religious contemplation. Until the Moha Ustamy, and its necessary adjunct Shundya Poojah, is finished, all are on the qui vive. It generally happens that this service is fixed by astrologers to take place before night's midmost stillest hour is past, when nature seems to repose in a state of perfect quiescence, and to call forth the religious fervour of the devotees. As the edge of hunger is sharpened, a Hindoo most anxiously looks at his watch or clock as to when the precious moment should arrive, and as the hour draws near, men, women and children are all hushed into silence. Not a whisper nor a buzzing sound is to be heard. All is anxiety, suspense and expectation, as if the arrival of the exact time would herald the advent of a true Saviour into the world. Amid perfect silence and stillness, all ears are stretched to catch the sound of the gun[64] which announces the precise minute when this most important of all Poojahs is to begin. As soon as the announcement is made by the firing of a gun, the priest in all haste enters on the work of worship, and invokes the blessings of the goddess on himself and the family. When the time of sacrifice arrives, which is made known by the sound of another gun, all the living souls in the house are bade to stand aloof, the priest with trembling hands and in a state of trepidation consecrates the Kharra, or scimitar, with which the sacrifice is to be made, and placing the Khaparer sara by the side of the haureekat, (the sacrificial log of wood) bids the blacksmith finish off his bloody job. Should the latter cut the head of a goat off at one stroke, all eyes are turned towards him with joy. The priest, the master, and the inmates of the house, who are all this while under the influence of mental agitation, now begin to congratulate each other on their good luck, praying for the return of the goddess every year.

Nor must I omit to mention the other secondary rites which are performed on the second day of the Poojah. Besides absolute fasting, the females of the household actually undergo a fiery ordeal. About one in the afternoon, when the tumult and bustle have subsided a little, all males being told to go away, the women unveiling their faces, and holding in each hand a sara or earthen plate of rosin, squat down before the shrine of the goddess, and in the posture of quasi-penitent sinners, implore in a fervent spirit the benediction of the goddess on behalf of their sons, while the rosin continues to burn in slow fire. As if dead to a sense of consciousness, they remain in that trying state for more than half an hour, absorbed, as it were, in holy meditation, repeating in their minds, at the same time, the names of their guardian deities. Towards the close of this penitent service, a son is asked to sit on the lap of his mother. Barren women to whom Providence has denied this inestimable blessing must go without this domestic felicity resulting in religious consolation, and not only mourn their present forlorn condition, but pray for a happier one at next birth. A few puncture their breasts with a slender iron naroon or nail cutter, and offer a few drops of blood to the goddess, under a delusion that the severer the penance the greater the merit. Many women still go through this truly revolting ordeal at Kali Ghât, in fulfilment of vows made in times of sickness.

Another ceremony which is performed by the females on this particular day is their worship of living Brahmin Komarees (virgins) and matrons (sodhavas). After washing and wiping the feet of the objects of their worship, with folded hands, and, with the end of their sari round their necks, in a reverential mood, they fall prostrate before the Brahmin women, and crave blessings, which, when graciously vouchsafed, are followed by offerings of sweetmeats, clothes and rupees. The purpose of this ceremony is to obtain exemption from the indescribable misery of widowhood, and ensure the enjoyment of domestic happiness.

On the third or last day of the Poojah, being the ninth day of the increase of the moon, the prescribed ritualistic ceremonies having been performed, the officiating priests make the hoam and dhukinanto, a rite, the meaning of which is to present farewell offerings to the goddess for one year, adding in a suitable prayer that she will be graciously pleased to forgive the present shortcomings on the part of her devotees, and vouchsafe to them her blessings in this world as well as in the world to come. This is a very critical time for the priests, because the finale of the ceremony involves the important question of their respective gains. Weak and selfish as human nature assuredly is, each of them (generally three in number) fights for his own individual interest, justifying his claim on the score of the religious austerities he has had to undergo, and the devotional fervour with which his sacred duties have been discharged. Until this knotty question is satisfactorily solved, they forbear pronouncing the last munter or prayer. It is necessary to add here that the presents of rupees which the numerous guests offered to the goddess during the three days of the Poojah, go to swell the fund of the priest, to which the worshipper of the idol must add a separate sum, without which this act of merit loses its final reward in a future state. The devotee must satisfy the cupidity of the priests or run the risk of forfeiting divine mercy. When the problem is ultimately solved in favor of the officiating priest who actually makes the Poojah, and sums of money are put into the hands of the Brahmins, the last prayer is read. It is not perhaps generally known that the income the Indian ecclesiastics thus derive from this source supports them for the greater part of the year, with a little gain in money or kind from the land they own.

The last day of the Poojah is attended with many offerings of goats, sheep, buffaloes[65] and fruits. The area before the shrine becomes a sort of slaughter house, slippery with gore and mire, and resounding with the cries of the dying victims, and the still more vociferous shouts of "Ma, Ma," uttered by the rabble amidst the discordant sound of gongs and drums. Some of the deluded devotees, losing all sense of shame and decency, smear their bodies from head to foot with this bloody mire, and begin to dance before the goddess and the assembled multitude like wild furies. In this state of bestial fanaticism, utterly ignoring the ordinary rules of public decorum, and literally intoxicated with the glory of the meritorious act, the deluded mob, preceded by musicians, proceed from one house to another in the neighbourhood where the image has been set up, sing obscene songs, and otherwise make indecent gestures which are alike an outrage on public morals and common decency. When quite exhausted by these abominable orgies, they go and bathe in a river or a tank, and return home, thinking how to make the most of the last night. Should any sober-minded person remonstrate with them on their foolish conduct, the stereotyped reply is—"this is Mohamayer Bazar and the last day of the Poojah, when all sorts of tomfoolery and revelry are justifiable." The sensible portion of the community, it must be mentioned, keep quite aloof from such immoral exhibitions.

However great may have been the veneration or the depth of devotional feeling in which the Doorga Poojah was held among the Hindoos of bygone ages, it is certain that in the lapse of time this and all other national festivals have lost their original religious character, and in the majority of cases degenerated into profanities and impure orgies, which renew the periodical license for the unrestrained indulgence of sensuality, not to speak of the dissipation and debauchery which it usually brings in its train. Except a few patriarchal Hindoos, whose minds are deeply imbued with religious prepossessions as well as traditional proclivities, the generality celebrate the Poojah for the sake of name and fame, no less than for the purposes of amusement, and for the satisfaction of the women and children, who still retain, and will continue to do so for a long time to come, a profound veneration for the old Doorga Uttsob. Apart from the children, whose minds are susceptible of any impression in their nascent state, the women are the main prop of the idolatrous institutions and of the colossal superstructure of Hindoo superstition. If I am not much mistaken, it was to satisfy them that such distinguished Hindoo Reformers as the late Baboos Dwarkeynauth Tagore, Prosonocoomar Tagore, Romanauth Tagore, Ram Gopal Ghose, Digumber Mitter and others celebrated this Poojah in their family dwelling houses. How far they were morally justified in countenancing this popular festival, it is not for me to say. The fact speaks for itself. Even in the present time, when Hindoo society is being profoundly convulsed by heterodox opinions, not a few of my enlightened countrymen observe this religious festival, and spend thousands of rupees on its celebration. There are, however, a few redeeming features in connection with this annual demonstration, which ought to be prominently noticed. First and foremost, it affords an excellent opportunity for the exercise of benevolent feelings;[66] secondly, it materially contributes to the promotion of annual reunions, brotherly fraternization, and to the general encouragement of trade throughout Bengal.

The very great interest which Hindoo females feel in the periodical return of this grand festival, is known to every one who is at all conversant with the existing state of things in this country. In the numerous districts and villages of Bengal inaugural preparations are made for the celebration of this anniversary rite precisely from the day on which the Juggernauth car is drawn in Assar, from the date of the festival of Ruth Jattra, that is for about four months before the date of the Doorga Poojah. While the koomar, or the image maker, is engaged in making the Bamboo frame-work for the images, the women in the villages devote their time to cleaning and storing the rice, paddy, different kinds of pulse, cocoanuts, and other products of the farm, all which are required for the service of the goddess. Ten times a day they will go to the temple to see what the Koomar is doing. Not capable of writing, nor having any idea of 'Letts' Diaries,' they note down in their minds the daily progress of work, and feel an ineffable pleasure in communicating the glad tidings to each other. When day by day the straw forms are converted into clay figures, and they are for the first time plastered over with chalk and then painted with variegated colors, the hearts of the females leap with joy, and again when the completed images are being decorated with dack ornaments or tinsel ware, their exhilaration knows no bounds. In the fulness of anxiety, the mistress of the house directing her attention to what more is yet wanted for the due completion of the Poojah, rebukes the master for his apparent neglect somewhat in the following manner: "Where is the dome sujah, (basketware)? Where is the koomar sujah, (pottery)? Where are the spices and clothes? Where are the sidoorchupry and sundry other things for the Barandalla?" Adding that there is no time to be lost, the Poojah is near at hand. The husband acquiescing in what the wife says assures her that everything shall be procured by Saturday or Sunday next.

On the first day of the new moon, when every Hindoo in the city becomes more or less busy on account of his official, domestic and religious engagements, the lady of the house is chiefly occupied with making suitable arrangements for tutwa or presents, first to her son-in-law and then to her other relatives, a subject on which I shall have to say a few words in its proper place. On the eve of the sixth day of the new moon, when the grand Poojah may be said to commence, the females, consigning all their past sorrows to oblivion, feel a sort of elasticity, hopefulness and confidence which almost involuntarily draw forth from the depths of their hearts, feelings of joy and ecstacy. Even a virgin widow, whose grief is yet fresh, forgets her miseries for awhile, and cheerfully mingles in the jubilee. She forms part and parcel of the domestic sisterhood, and for the five days of her life at least, her settled sadness gives way to pleasing sensations, and though forbidden by a cruel priesthood to lend her hand to the ceremonial, she nevertheless goes up to the goddess and prays in a devotional spirit for a better future. Amidst such a scene of universal hilarity, supplemented by a confident hope of eternal beatitude, it is quite natural that Hindoo females, socially divorced from every other innocent amusement, should feel a deep, sincere and intense interest in such a national festival which possesses the two fold advantages of a religious ceremony and a social demonstration. None but the most callous hearted can remain indifferent. Men, women and children, believers and unbelievers, are alike overcome by the force of this religious anniversary. The females go to the temple at all hours of the day, and feast their eyes upon the captivating figure of mighty Doorga and her glorious satellites. Nor do they stare at her with a vacant mind; each has her grievance to represent, her wish to express; prayer in a fervent spirit is offered to the goddess for the redress of the one and the consummation of the other. Should a son die prematurely, should a husband suffer from any difficulty, should a son-in-law be not true to his wife, should a daughter be doomed to widowhood, the females wrestle hard in prayer for relief and amelioration. On the fourth or Bijoya day, when the image is to be consigned to the river, one takes away a bit of the consecrated urghy[67]; a second, the khappurer sara, or the sacrificial earthen plate; a third, the crushed betel; a fourth, the sacred billaw leaves, and so on; each forms a sacred trust, and all are preserved with the greatest possible care, as the priceless heirloom of a benignant goddess.

Having briefly described the main features of this religious festival, I will now endeavour to give a short account of the other circumstances connected with it. In the house of a Brahmin, Khichree, rice, dhall, fish and vegetable curries, together with sweetmeats and sour milk, are given to the guests, chiefly in the day time during the three Pooja days. Many Hindoos, whose religious scruples will not allow them to kill a goat themselves, generally go to the house of a Brahmin—but not without an eight anna piece or a Rupee—to satisfy their carnivorous appetite during the Poojah. It is very creditable to the women of the sacerdotal class that three or four of them undertake the duty of the cuisine, and feed from six to eight hundred persons for three days successively. As fish is not acceptable to Doorga, neither cooked goat's and sheep's flesh, a separate kitchen is set apart for the purpose of cooking meat of sacrificed animals. Brahmin women, as a rule, cook remarkably well. Their long experience in the culinary art, their habitual cleanliness, their undivided attention to their duty, and above all, the religious awe with which they prepare food for the goddess, give quite a relish to every thing they make. Nor is this all. Their devotion and earnestness is so great that they cannot be persuaded to eat any thing until all the guests are fully satisfied, and what is still more commendable, they look to no other reward for their trouble than the fancied approbation of the goddess, and the satisfaction of the guests. It is not before nine o'clock at night that they become disengaged, after which they bathe again, change clothes, say their prayers to the goddess, and then think of appeasing their hunger. Simple and unartificial as they naturally are, they, being mostly widows, are quite content with habishi unno, which was of yore the food of the Hindoo rishis or saints. It consists of autob rice, or rice from unboiled paddy, green plantain and dhall, all boiled in the same pot. Of course a large quantity of ghee is added to it, and at the time of eating milk is taken. These Brahmin women are, indeed, mistresses of the culinary art, if the bill of fare is not long, yet the dishes they make are generally very palatable. The truth is, they practically follow the trite saying, "what is worth doing at all, is worth doing well." Their simple recipes always produce appetising and wholesome dishes, they are thrifty housewives. It must be admitted that simplicity is not meanness, nor thriftiness a fault.

In the house of a Kayasta or Sudra, whose female members, it must be observed, are generally more indolently inclined, and whose style of living is consequently more luxurious, the food offered to the guests consists chiefly of different kinds of sweetmeats, fruits, loochees, vegetable curries, &c. Four or five days before the Poojah begins, professional Brahmin sweetmeat-makers are employed to make the necessary arrangements at home, the principal ingredients required being flour, soojee, chattoo, (gram fried and powdered) safeyda (pounded rice) sugar, spices, almonds, raisins, &c. Not a soul is permitted, not even the master of the house, to touch and much less taste these articles[68] before they are religiously offered to the goddess in the first instance and afterwards to the Brahmins. In these "feast days" of the Poojah in and about Calcutta, where nearly five hundred pratimas or images are set up, every respectable Hindoo, as has been observed before, is previously provided at home with an adequate supply of all the necessaries and luxuries of life that would last about a month or so, it being considered unpropitious then to be wanting in any store, save fruit and fish. This accounts for a general disinclination on the part of the well-to-do Baboos to partake of any ordinary entertainment when visiting the goddess at a friend's house, but to the Brahmins and the poverty-stricken classes this is a glorious opportunity for "gorging." The despicable practice to which I have alluded elsewhere of carrying a portion of the jalpan (food) home is largely resorted to on this occasion. It is certainly a relic of barbarism, which the growing good sense of the people ought to eschew.

The night of the ninth day of the increase of the moon is a grand night in Bengal. It is the nabamee ratree, and modesty is put to the blush by the revelry of the hour. The houses of the rich become as bright as the day, costly chandeliers, hanging lamps and wall lights burning with gas, brilliantly illuminate the whole mansion, while the walls of the Boytuckhana or sitting room are profusely adorned with English and French paintings and engravings, exhibiting certainly not the best specimens of artistic skill, but singularly calculated to extort the plaudits of the illiterate, because engravings and pictures are the books of the unlearned, who are more easily impressed through the eye than the ear. All the rooms and antechambers are frequently furnished in European style. Splendid Brussels or Agra carpets are spread on the floors of the rooms, a few of which, as if by way of contrast, have the ordinary white cloth spread on them. Nor are hanging Punkhas wanting. In one of the spacious halls sits the Baboo of the house, surrounded by courtiers pandering to his vanity. Indolently reclining on a bolster, and leisurely smoking his álbollah with a long winding nal or pipe, half dizzy from the effects of last night's revelry, he feels loath to speak much. Like an opium eater, he falls into a siesta, whilst the Punkah is moving incessantly. If an orthodox Hindoo, freed from the besetting vice of drinking, and awake to all that is going on around him, before him are placed the Dacca silver filagree worked atterdan and golappass, as well as the pandan with lots of spices and betel in it. On entering the room, the olfactory nerves of a visitor are sure to be regaled with fragrant odours. At intervals rose water is sprinkled on the bodies of the guests, and weak spiced tobacco is served them every fifteen minutes, the current topics of the day forming the subject of conversation. All this is surely vain ostentation and superfluity. So far the arrangements and reception of friends are essentially oriental, the manner of sitting, the mode of conversation, and the way in which otto of roses, rose water and betel are given to guests are Mahomedan and Hindoo-like, but there is something beyond this; here orthodoxy is virtually proscribed and heterodoxy practically proclaimed. While the officiating priests and the female devotees are offering their prayers to the presiding goddess, the Baboo, a liberal Hindoo, longs to retire to his private room, perhaps on the third storey, at the entrance of which a guard is placed to keep off unwelcome visitors, that he might partake of refreshments supplied by an English Purveying Establishment with a few select friends. The room is furnished after European fashion, chairs, tables, sofas, cheffoniers, cheval glass, sideboard, pictures, glass and silver and plated ware, knives, forks and spoons, and I know not what more, are all arranged in proper order, and friends of congenial tastes have free access. First class wines and viands, such as Giesler's champagne, Heatly's Port and Sherry, Exshaw's Brandy No. I, Crabbie's Ginger wine, Bass's best bottled beer, soda water, lemonade, ice, Huntley and Palmer's mixed biscuits, manilla cigars, cakes and fruits in heaps, poloway, kurma, kupta, kallya, roast fowl, cutlets, mutton chop and fowl curry,[69] are at your service, and an English visitor is not an unwelcome guest. Loochee, Sundesh mittoye, burfi, rasagullah, sittavog, &c., the ordinary food of the Hindoos on festive days, are at a discount. The Great Eastern Hotel Company should be thankful for the large orders which the Hindoo aristocracy of Calcutta and its suburbs favor them with during this grand festival. The taste for the English style of living is not a plant of recent growth. It has been germinating since the days of John Company, when India merchantmen enjoyed the monopoly of the foreign trade of the country, when the highest authorities of the land had no religious scruples as Christians to be present at a Hindoo festival, when, in fact, Hindoo millionaires were wont to indulge in lavish expenditure[70] for the purpose of pleasing their new European masters. Leaving aside the dignity and gravity of the clerical profession for a while, the Reverend Mr. Ward was induced out of curiosity to pay a visit to the palatial mansion of the Shoba Bazar Rajahs of Calcutta on the last night of the Poojah.

"In the year 1806," says he, "I was present at the worship of this goddess, as performed at the house of Rajah Rajkishnu at Calcutta. The buildings where the festival was held were on four sides, leaving an area in the middle. The room to the east contained wine, English sweetmeats, &c., for the entertainment of English guests, with a native Portuguese or two to wait on the visitors. In the opposite room was placed the image, with vast heaps of all kinds of offerings before it. In the two side rooms, were the native guests, and in the area groups of Hindoo dancing women, finely dressed, singing, and dancing with sleepy steps, surrounded with Europeans who were sitting on chairs and couches. One or two groups of Mussulman-men singers entertained the company at intervals with Hindoosthanee songs, and ludicrous tricks. Before two o'clock the place was cleared of the dancing girls, and of all the Europeans except ourselves, and almost all the lights were extinguished, except in front of the goddess,—when the doors of the area were thrown open, and a vast crowd of natives rushed in, almost treading one upon another, among whom were the vocal singers, having on long caps like sugar loaves. The area might be about fifty cubits long and thirty wide. When the crowd had sat down, they were so wedged together as to present the appearance of a solid pavement of heads, a small space only being left immediately before the image for the motions of the singers, who all stood up. Four sets of singers were present on this occasion, the first consisting of Brahmins, (Huru Thacoor), the next of bankers, (Bhuvanundu), the next of boeshnuvus, (Nitaee), and the last of weavers, (Lukshmee), who entertained their guests with filthy songs and danced in indecent attitudes before the goddess, holding up their hands, turning round, putting forward their heads towards the image, every now and then bending their bodies, and almost tearing their throats with their vociferations. The whole scene produced on my mind sensations of the greatest horror. The dress of the singers, their indecent gestures, the abominable nature of the songs, (especially khayoor) the horrid din of their miserable drum, the lateness of the hour, the darkness of the place, with the reflection that I was standing in an idol temple, and that this immense multitude of rational and immortal creatures, capable of superior joys, were in the very act of worship, perpetrating a crime of high treason against the God of heaven, while they themselves believed they were performing an act of merit, excited ideas and feelings in my mind which time can never obliterate. I would have given in this place a specimen of the songs sung before the image, but found them so full of broad obscenity that I could not copy a single line. All those actions which a sense of decency keeps out of the most indecent English songs, are here detailed, sung, and laughed at, without the least sense of shame. A poor ballad singer in England would be sent to the house of correction, and flogged, for performing the meritorious actions of these wretched idolaters.[71] The singing is continued for three days from two o'clock in the morning till nine."

It is a noteworthy fact that in those days when Bengal was in the zenith of its prosperity and splendour, the Governor-General, the members of the Council, the judges of the Supreme Court, and distinguished officers and merchants, did not think it derogatory to their dignity, or at all calculated to compromise their character as Christians, to honor the Rajahs with their presence during this festival, but since the days of Daniel Wilson, the highly venerated Lord Bishop of Calcutta, who must have expressed his strong disapprobation of this practice, these great men have ceased to attend. At present but a few young officers, captains of ships in the port and East Indians may be seen to go to these nautches, and as a necessary consequence of this withdrawal of countenance, the outward splendour of the festival has of late considerably diminished. Seeing the apparent approval of idolatrous ceremonies by some Europeans, a conscientious Christian once exclaimed: "I am not ashamed to confess that I fear more for the continuance of the British power in India, from the encouragement which Englishmen have given to the idolatry of the Hindoos, than from any other quarter whatever."[72]

As regards the other amusements at this popular festival, a few words about the Indian nautch (dancing) girls may not be out of place here. These women have no social status, their principles are as loose as their character is immoral. They are brought up to this disreputable profession from their infancy. They have no husbands, and many of them are never married. The Native Princes, and chiefs, rich zemindars and persons in affluent circumstances, the capacity of whose intellect is as stinted as its culture is scanty, have been their great patrons. Devoid of a taste for reading and writing, they managed to drive the ennui of their lives by the songs of these dancing girls. Great were the rewards which they sometimes received at the hands of the Native kings in their palmy days. When a Principality groaned under extravagance and financial embarrassment, these bewitching girls were entertained at considerable expense to drown the cares of state-craft and king-craft. Even the most astute prince was not free from this courtly profligacy. Though these girls often basked in the sunshine of royal favor, yet there was not a single Jenny Lind among them either in grace or accomplishment. As regards their income, a girl has been known to refuse ten thousand Rupees for performing three nights at the Nazim's Court. When Rajah Rajkissen of Sobha Bazar, the Singhee family of Jorasanko, and the Dey family of Simla, celebrated these Poojahs with great pomp, dancing girls of repute were retained a month previous to the festival at great cost, varying from 500 to 1000 Rupees each for three nights. Now that those prosperous days are gone by, and the big English officials do not condescend to attend the nautch, the amount has been reduced to fifty Rupees or a little more. Their general attire and gestures, as well as the nature and tendency of their songs, are by no means unexceptionable. These auxiliaries to sensual gratification, combined with the allurements of Bacchus, even in the presence of a deity, are the least of all fitted to animate or quicken devotional feelings and prayerful thoughts.

Theatrical performances from the popular dramas of the Indian poets, and amateur jattras, pantomimical exhibitions, also contribute largely to the amusement of the people. The old Bidday Soonder, Maunvunjun, Dukha Juggo, and others of a similar character are still relished by pleasure-seekers and holiday-makers. It is, however, one of the healthy signs of the times that native gentlemen of histrionic taste have recently got up amateur performances, which bear a somewhat close approximation to the English tragedies and comedies.

Having previously described all the important circumstances and details, religious and social, connected with this popular festival, I will now give a short account of the Bhásán or Nirunjun which takes place on the tenth day of the new moon, or in the fourth day of the Poojah. It is also called Bíjoyá, because the end of a ceremonial is always attended with melancholy feelings. This is the day when the image is consigned to water either of a river or tank. Apart from its religious significance, the day is an important one to English and Native merchants alike. Although all the public offices, Government and mercantile, are absolutely closed for twelve days, agents of Manchester and Glasgow firms must open their places of business on this particular day, which to native merchants and dealers is an auspicious day when large bargains of Piece Goods for present and forward delivery are made. Ten to fifteen lakhs of Rupees worth of articles are sold this day in three or four hours, the general impression being that such bargains bring good luck both to the buyer and the seller.

About eight o'clock in the morning, the officiating priest begins the service, and in half an hour it is over. Music, the indispensable accompaniment of Hindoo Poojahs, must attend every such service. A small looking-glass is placed on a pan of Ganges water and every inmate of the family, male or female, is invited to see the shadow or rather the reflex of the goddess on its surface. Deeply imbued as the minds of the votaries are with religious ideas, every individual looks on the mirror with a sort of devotional feeling, and expresses his or her conviction as to the reality of the representation. The children, more from amusement than faith, hang about the place, but the females steadfastly cling to the panoramic view, quite unwilling to leave it. Though totally ignorant of the philosophical theory of the association or suggestion of ideas, the scene naturally presents to their mind's eye the emotions they feel when leaving the paternal roof for the father-in-law's house. "Ma Doorga is going to her father-in-law's and will not return for another twelve month," exclaims one. "Look at her eyes, her sorrowful countenance," ejaculates another. "The temple will look wild and desolate when Ma Doorga goes away," adds a third. To console them, the mistress of the house exhorts all to offer their prayers to the goddess, beseeching that she may continue to vouchsafe her blessings from year to year, and give prolonged life and happiness to all concerned. With this solemn invocation, they, each and every one, fall down on their knees before the goddess, whose spirit had departed on the day previous, and in a contemplative mood implore her benediction. Before retiring, however, every one takes with her some precious relic of the offerings (flowers or billaputtra) made to Doorga when her spirit was present, and preserves it with all the care of a divine gift, using it religiously in cases of sickness and calamity.

About three in the afternoon, after washing their bodies and putting on new clothes and ornaments, the females make preparations for performing the last and farewell ceremony in honor of the goddess. The sudder (main) door is closed, musicians are ordered to go out in the streets, the Doorga with all her satellites is brought out into the area of the temple, the barandálláh with all its sundries is produced, and the females whose husbands are alive begin to turn round the images and touch the forehead of each and every one of the deities with the barandálláh, repeating their prayers for lasting blessings on the family. To the inexpressible grief of the widows, who are present on the occasion, a cruel institution has long since debarred them from assisting in this holy work. These ill-fated creatures are doomed only to stare at the images, but are not permitted to take an active part in the ceremonial. Is it possible to conceive a more gloomy picture of society than that which absolutely expunges from a human breast all traces of a religious privilege the exercise of which, though under a mistaken faith, tends to sweeten a wretched life? The miserable widows of India are unhappily destined to pine away their existence until greater leaders of native reforms arise and deliver them from the galling fetters of superstition.

The epilogue which closes the parting ceremony is called the kanakánjally, which consists in a woman (not a widow) taking a small brass plate of paddy and doova grass with a Rupee dyed in red lead in it, and throwing it from the fore part of the image right over its head into the cloth of a man who stands behind for the purpose of receiving it. This last offering, it is needless to say, is preserved with the greatest care. The female who performs the rite is an object of envy. This rite being performed, the females take each a bit of the sweetmeat and betel which has been last offered to Ma Doorga. A sudden reaction of feeling takes place, all hearts are grieved, and some actually shed tears. Two sensations, though not exactly analogous, arise in their minds; first the religious part of the festival, and the consequent arousal of a devotional spirit, vividly reminding one of the unceasing round of ritualistic ceremonies as well as festivity and gaiety that the presence of the goddess naturally enough produced, and which are about to vanish and disappear in an hour by the immersion of the goddess in the river or pond; and second, a worldly one, the recurrence of the idea when a mother sends her daughter to the house of her father-in-law. In either case, the tender heart of a Hindoo female easily breaks down under the pressure of grief.

The goddess is afterwards brought out and placed on a Bamboo stage borne on the shoulders of a set of coolies, all the flowers and billáputtrá offered her during the past three days are also put in a basket and taken to the riverside. The procession moves slowly forward, preceded by bands of English and Native musicians, and the necessary retinue of servants and guards, while from within the house, the women, not satiated with the sight of the goddess for one long month, stretch their eyes as far as their visual organs can extend to catch a last farewell glimpse of her. The streets of Calcutta, the English part of the town excepted, become literally crammed and almost impassable on such a day. Groups of Police constables are posted here and there with a view to maintain peace and order, the streets become a pavement of heads. At the lowest calculation, there cannot be less than 100,000 sight-seers abroad. Men, women and children of all classes and ranks come from a great distance to have a sight of the image. The tops of houses, the verandahs, the main roads, nay the unfrequented corners present a thick mass of living creatures, all anxious to feast their eyes upon the matchless grandeur of the scene. A foreigner, unaccustomed to such a magnificent spectacle, is apt to overrate the wealth and prosperity of the people on such a day. The number of images, the dazzling and costly embellishments with which they are decorated, the rich livery of some of the servants, the bands of musicians preceding the procession, the letting off of red and blue lights at intervals, the gala dress of the multitude, and last but not least, the elegant carriages of the big "swells," and the still more elegant attire of their owners, who loll back on the cushion of the carriages, diffusing fragrant odours as they pass, cannot fail to produce an imposing effect. Here a gaily clad Baboo with his patent Japan leather shoes; there a Hindoosthanee dandy with his massive gold necklace and valuable pearls hanging down his ears; here a proud Mogul in all the bravery of cloth of gold; there a frowning Mussulman with his dazzling cap and gossamer chápkán (tunic), and ivory mounted stick, all combine to present a motley group of characters, national in their costumes, and unique in appearance. The poor country woman, her lord and children, though not favored by fortune, still cut a figure far above their normal condition.

Those Hindoos, who adorn their images without stint of cost, parade them through the most densely crowded streets till eight in the evening—vanity being the chief motive of action—while those who move in humbler spheres of life take them to boats on the river hired for the purpose, and throw them into the water amidst shouts of exultation. The mob of course sing obscene songs and dance indecently, all which is tolerated for the occasion. The growing sense of the people—the result of English education—has now-a-days greatly diminished the amount of indecency which was one of the distinguishing characteristics of former days on such an occasion.

Between seven and eight o'clock in the evening, the assembled crowd begins to disperse in joyous mood, talking all the way as to the respective superiority of such and such images. Amongst such a great number and variety, there is sure to be difference of opinion, but it is soon settled by the affirmation of a wise head that "the spirit of the goddess is the same in all the images; Ma Doorga, does not mind show."

When the worshippers and others return home, they go at once to the temple, where the officiating Brahmin waits for them to sprinkle on their bodies the sacred water; all are made to sit down on the floor with their feet covered with their clothes, lest a drop should fall upon them. The Brahmin with a small twig of mangoe leaves sprinkles the water, while repeating at the same time the usual incantation, the meaning of which is that health, wealth and prosperity may attend the votaries of Doorga, from year to year. After this they write on a piece of green plantain leaf the name of the goddess several times, and then clasp one another in their arms, and take the dust off the feet of all the seniors, with the mutual expression of good wishes for their worldly prosperity. An elderly man thus blesses a boy; "may you have long life, gold inkstand and gold pen, acquire profound learning and immense wealth, and support lakhs of men"; If a girl, he thus pronounces his benediction (there being no clasping of arms between man and woman nor between woman and woman), "may you enjoy all the blessings of a married life (i. e., never become a widow) become the mother of a rajah (king), use vermillion on your grey head, continue to wear the iron bangle, get seven male children, and never know want." It is well known that no blessing is more acceptable to a Hindoo female than that she may never become a widow, because the intolerable miseries of widowhood are most piercing to her heart; nor can it be otherwise so long as human nature remains unaltered. This social institution of the Hindoos of cordially embracing each other and expressing all manner of good wishes on a particular day of the year, when all hearts are more or less affected with grief at the departure of the goddess, is a very commendable one. It has an excellent tendency to promote social reunion, good fellowship and brotherhood. Not only all the absent friends, relatives, acquaintances and neighbours, male and female, join in this annual greeting, but even strangers and the most menial servants are not forgotten on the occasion. Every heart rejoices, every tongue blesses, every acrimonious feeling is consigned to oblivion. This is a "quiet interval at least between storm and storm; interspaces of sunlight between the breadths of gloom, a glad voice on summer holidays, happy in unselfish friendships, in generous impulses, in strong health, in the freedom from all cares, in the confidence of all hopes." During such a happy period "it is a luxury to breathe the breath of life."

To drown their sorrows in forgetfulness, the Hindoos use a slight intoxicating beverage made of hemp leaves on this particular occasion. Every one that comes to visit—and there must be a social gathering—or is present, is treated with this diluted beverage and sweets. Even the most innocent and simple females for once in a year are tacitly allowed to use it, but very sparingly. One farthing's worth of hemp leaves, or about one ounce, suffices for fifty persons or more, so that it becomes almost harmless when so copiously diluted. But those who have imbibed a taste for English wines and spirits always indulge freely on this occasion, giving little heed to temperance rules and lectures. It is "Bijoya" and drinking to excess is justifiable.

It would not be proper to close this subject without saying a few words about the national excitement which the approach of this festival produces, and the powerful impetus it gives to trade in general. It has been roughly estimated that upwards of a crore of Rupees (£10,000,000) is spent every year in Bengal on account of this festival. Every family, from the aristocracy to the peasant, must have new clothes, new shoes, new every thing. Men, women, children, relatives, poor acquaintances and neighbours, nay beggars must have their holiday dress. Persons in straitened circumstances, who actually live from hand to mouth, deposit their hard-earned savings for a twelvemonth to be spent on this grand festival. Famished beggars who drag a miserable existence all their lives, and depend on precarious alms to keep their body and soul together all the year round, hopefully look forward to the return of this anniversary for at least a temporary change in their rags and tatters. Hungry Brahmins, whose daily avocation brings them only a scanty allowance of rice and plantain, cheerfully welcome the advent of "Ma Doorga" and gratefully watch the day when their empty coffer shall be replenished. Cloth merchants, weavers, braziers, goldsmiths, embroiderers, lace-makers, mercers, haberdashers, carpenters, potters, basket-makers, painters, house-builders, English, Chinese and Native shoemakers, ghee, sugar and corn merchants, grocers, confectioners, dealers in silver and tinsel ware, songsters, songstresses, musicians, hackney carriage keepers, Oorya bearers, hawkers, pedlars and such dealers in miscellaneous wares, all look forward to the busy season when their whole year's hopes shall be realised by bringing lots of Rupees into the till. To a man of practical experience in business matters, as far as the metropolis of British India is concerned, it is perhaps well known that the "Trades" because of the Doorga Poojah make more in one month than they can possibly make in the remaining eleven months. From the first week in September to the middle of October, when the Poojah preparations are being actually made by the Hindoos, when they, frugal as they assuredly are, once in a twelvemonth, loosen their purse strings, when the accumulated interest on Government securities is drawn, when all the arrears of house rent are peremptorily demanded, when remittance from the distant parts of the country arrives, when in short, rupees, annas and pice, are the "Go" of the inhabitants, the shopkeepers make a display of their goods as best they can. From sunrise to ten o'clock at night the influx of customers continues unabated, extra shops are opened and extra assistants employed, the shopkeepers themselves have scarcely leisure enough to take a hasty meal a day, and each day's sales swell the heart of the owner. The thrifty and economical Provincial, who loves money as dearly as the blood that runs through his veins, leisurely makes his sundry purchases before the regular rush of customers begins to pour in. He has not only the choice of a large assortment, and the "pick," of a new investment, but gets the benefit of a reasonable price, because the shopkeeper is not hard and tenacious in the early stage of the Poojah sale. As each day passes, and novelties are exposed for public inspection, the shopkeeper raises his prices according to increasing demand. The effeminate and extravagant Baboo of the City, who does not worship Mammon half so devoutly as his country brother, does not mind paying a little too much for his "whistle," because he is large hearted and liberal minded. His more frequent intercourse with Englishmen has taught him to look upon money as "filthy lucre." He is not calculating, and hence he defers making his purchases till the eleventh hour, when, to use a native expression, "the shopkeeper cuts the neck with one stroke."

About one-fifth of the Hindoo population of Calcutta consists of people that are come from the contiguous villages and pergunnas of the Presidency Division; these men live in Calcutta solely for employment, keeping their families in the country where they have generally small farms of their own which yield them enough produce in the shape of rice, pulses, cereals, vegetables, &c., to last them throughout the year, leaving, in some instances, ample surplus stock, with which and a few milch cows as well as tanks, they husband their resources with the greatest frugality, and enjoy every domestic comfort and convenience. They do not care for Davie Wilson's biscuits and sponge-cakes, or a glass of raspberry ice-cream or Roman Punch on a summer day; their bill of fare is as short and simple as their taste is primitive. These men make their Poojah purchases much earlier than their brethren in the city, simply because they have to start for home as soon as the public holidays commence on the eve of the fourth day of the increase of the moon. If the Indian Railways have benefited one class of the people more than another, it is these men who should be thankful for the boon. If the East Indian and Eastern Bengal Railway Companies' coaching receipts are properly examined for two days, viz., the fourth and fifth days of the new moon or the beginning of the Doorga Poojah holidays, they will certainly exhibit an incredibly large amount of receipts from third class carriages. Indeed it has been rather facetiously remarked by town's people that Calcutta becomes much lighter by reason of the exit of country people during the Doorga Poojah holidays, but then the return of the former to their home from the Moffussil should be also taken into the account. On a fair calculation, the outgoing number far exceeds the incoming proportion. It should also be observed that the list of purchases of the former embraces a greater variety of items than that of the latter. Their mothers, wives, daughters and sisters, not to speak of the male members of the family, being absent in the country-house, the want of each and every one must be supplied. Articles for domestic consumption in a Hindoo family are in the greatest requisition. Looking-glasses, combs, áltá, sidoor or China vermillion, ghoomsi (string round the loins), scented drugs for ladies' hair, black powder for the teeth, soap, pomatum, otto of rose, rose water, wax candles, sidoorchoobry (toilet box made of small shells), silk, thread, wool, carpets, spices of all sorts both for the betel and the kitchen, betel-nuts, cocoanut oil for ladies' hair, sugar-candy, almonds, raisins, Cabul pomegranates, Dacca, Santipore and English made dhooties, oorunees (sheets), sarees (lady's apparel), silk handkerchiefs, silk cloth, Benares embroidered cloth, satin and velvet caps, lace, hose, tinsel ornaments for the images, English shoes and sundries, constitute the catalogue of their purchases. This explains their going into the Bazar early and accounts for their extra expenditure on the score of luxuries and superfluities of life, but the reader should bear in mind that such extravagance is indulged in only once a year. Generally esteemed as these people are for their saving qualities, frugal, simple and abstemious habits, an annual departure from the established rule is not unjustifiable. The rich classes, as will be evident from what has been said, spend enormous sums in making their fashionable purchases on this occasion.

From the foregoing details it is easy to infer that the Doorga Poojah anniversary presses heavily on the limited resources of a Hindoo family. A rich man experiences little difficulty in meeting his expenses, but the middling and the humbler classes, who comprise nine-tenths of the population, are put to their wits' end to make both ends meet. They are sometimes obliged to solicit the pecuniary aid of their rich friends to enable them to get over the Doorga difficulty. It is, perhaps, not generally known that during this popular festival, or rather before it, when all Bengal is in a state of social and religious ferment, when money must be had by fair means or foul, not a few unfortunate men, chiefly libertines and rakes, deliberately commit frauds by forging cheques, drafts, and notes, which eventually lead them into the greatest distress and disgrace. Besides the high price of clothes and of all descriptions of eatables, every family must have a month's provision to carry them through the period during which no money is forthcoming.

I had almost forgotten to say anything about the annual gratuity which the Brahmins of Bengal obtain on the occasion of this festival. From time immemorial, when orthodox Hindooism was in the ascendant, the Brahmins not only advanced their claims, as now, to all the offerings made to gods or goddesses, small or great, but established a rule that every Hindoo, whose circumstances would permit it, should give them individually, one, two, four, or five Rupees at the return of this festival. Every respectable Hindoo family, even now-a-days when heterodoxy is rampant in all the great centres of education, has to give ten, fifteen, twenty-five, or fifty Rupees to Brahmins. Rich families give much more. So very tenacious are the Brahmins of this privilege that even if they earn one hundred Rupees a month by employment they will not forego a single Rupee once a year on this occasion, seeing they claim it as a birthright.

These men have studied human nature, but they have built their hopes of permanent gain on the baseless fabric of a hollow superstition, which is destined, through the progress of improvement, inevitably to fall into decay. It is too late to retrieve the huge blunder of laying a false foundation for their gains.

IX.

THE KALI POOJAH FESTIVAL.

In Bengal, next to the Doorga Poojah in point of importance stands the Kali Poojah, which invariably takes place on the last night of the decrease of the moon, in the month of Kartik (between October and November). She is represented as standing on the breast of her husband, Shiva, with a tongue projecting to a great length. She has four arms, in one of which she holds a scimitar; in another, the head of a giant whom she has killed in a fight, the third hand is spread out for the purpose of bestowing blessing, while by the fourth, she welcomes the blessed. She also wears a necklace of skulls and has a girdle of hands of giants round her loins. To add to the terrific character of the goddess, she is represented as a very black female with her locks hanging down to her heels. The reason ascribed for her standing on the breast of her husband, is the following: In a combat with a formidable giant called Ruckta Beeja, she became so elated with joy at her victory that she began to dance in the battle-field so frantically that all the gods trembled and deliberated what to do in order to restore peace to the earth, which, through her dancing was shaken to its foundation. After much consultation, it was decided that her husband should be asked to repair to the scene of action and persuade her to desist. Shiva, the husband, accordingly came down, but seeing the dreadful carnage and the infuriated countenance as well as the continued dancing of his wife, who could not in her frenzy recognise him, he threw himself among the dead bodies of the slain. The goddess was so transported with joy that in one of her dancing feats she chanced to step upon the breast of her husband, whereupon the body moved. Struck with amazement she stood motionless for a while, and fixing her gaze at length discovered that she had trampled on her husband. The sight at once restored her feminine modesty, and she stood aghast feeling shocked at the unhappy accident. To express her shame, she put out her tongue and in that posture she is worshipped by her followers.[73]

Her black features, the dark night in which she is worshipped, the bloody deeds with which her name is associated, the countless sacrifices relentlessly offered at her altar, the terrific form in which she is represented, the unfeminine and warlike posture in which she stands, and last but not least, the desperate character of some of her votaries, invest her name with a terror which is without a parallel in the mythological legends of the Hindoos. The authors of the Hindoo mythology could not have invented in their fertile imagination a sanguinary character more singularly calculated to inspire terror[74] and thereby extort the blind adoration of an ignorant populace. About seven hundred years ago, a devoted follower of this goddess, named Agum Bagish, proclaimed that her worship should be performed in the following manner: The image is to be made, set up, worshipped and destroyed on the same night. It is a nishi or midnight Poojah on the darkest night of the month, so that not a single soul from outside could know it. He strictly observed this rule while he was alive, and it was said that Rajah Krishnu Chunder Roy of Kishnaghur followed his example for some time. Baboo Obhoy Churn Mitter of Calcutta and Bhobaney Churn Mookerjee of Jessore also tried to observe the rule prescribed above, but as it has been alleged the spirit of secret devotion forsook them after a little while. They reverted to the general custom of worshipping the goddess on the darkest night in Kartik, inviting friends and making pantomimic exhibitions.

Though her Poojah lasts but one night, the sacrifices of goats, sheep and buffaloes are as numerous as those offered before the altar of Doorga. In former times, when idolatry prevailed universally throughout Bengal and religious belief of the people therein was firm and unshaken, the splendour with which the worship of this goddess was performed was second only, as I have remarked, to that of the Doorga. Both goddesses, however, still continue to count their votaries by millions. "The reader may form some idea," says Mr. Ward, "how much idolatry prevailed at the time when the Hindoo monarchy flourished from the following circumstance, which belongs to a modern period, when the Hindoo authority in Hindoosthan was almost extinct. Rajah Krishnu Chunder Roy, and his two immediate successors, in the month of Kartick, annually gave orders to all the people over whom they had a nominal authority to keep the shyma festival, and threatened every offender with the severest penalties on non-compliance. In consequence of these orders, in more than ten thousand houses in one night, in the Zillah of Kishnaghur, the worship of this goddess was celebrated. The number of animals destroyed could not have been less than ten thousand."

Kali, like Doorga, Siva, Vishnu and Krishna, is the guardian deity of many Hindoos, who daily offer their prayers to her both in the morning and evening. Several, who possess great wealth and know not how to employ it better, dedicate temples to her service and consecrate them with ample endowments. In the holy City of Benares, there still exists a Kali shrine where hundreds of beggars are daily fed at the expense of the founder, the late Rani Bhobaney of Nattore. Nearly a hundred and fifty years ago, Raja Ramkrishna erected a temple at Burranagore, about six miles north of Calcutta, in honor of this goddess, and spent upwards of a lakh of Rupees when it was first consecrated. He endowed it with a large revenue for its permanent support, so that any number of religious mendicants who might come there daily could be easily fed. In his prosperous days, this rich zemindar paid an annual revenue of fifty-two lakhs of Rupees to the East India Company. Unfortunately the family has since been reduced to a state of poverty, and the temple is a heap of ruins. The endowment, like most other endowments of this nature, disappeared soon after the death of the founder. The Rajah of Burdwan's endowment of this kind still endures, and promises to enjoy a longer lease of life.

The name of Kali, be it observed, is more extensively used than either that of Doorga or Shiva. Whenever a Native Regiment is to march or set out on an expedition the stereotyped acclaim is,—"Kali Maikey Jay," "victory to mother Kali." When the evening gun is fired in any of the military stations, the almost involuntary exclamation is, "Jay Kali Calcutta Wallee." Nor is her worship less universal than her fame. On the last night of the decrease of the moon in Kartik, every family in Bengal must worship her though in a somewhat different shape. Every family, rich or poor, Brahmin or Soodar, must celebrate the Lucki or Kali Poojah before the sacred Reck of dhán or paddy, which in the estimation of a Hindoo is a valuable heritage.[75] Several incidents connected with this religious festival are worth recording. In the Upper and Central Provinces, as in the South of Hindoostan, it is called the Dewallee Festival. Though the image is not set up, yet the Hindoo and Parsi inhabitants observe the holiday by opening their new year's account on that day. Illuminations, fireworks and all sorts of festivities mark the day. To try their luck for the next year, almost all Hindoo merchants and bankers indulge in gambling that night, and large sums are sometimes at stake on the occasion. In Calcutta, where gambling is strictly prohibited, the law is shamefully violated on that dark night. This does not imply any reflection on the vigilance of the Police, because the game is carried on surreptitiously. The Parsi merchants who deal in wines and stores throw open their shops and treat their European customers free of cost on that particular day. Their brethren in Bengal are, however, not so liberal to their customers, simply because it is not their new year's day. In Calcutta and all over Bengal the night is remarkable for illumination,[76] fireworks, feasting, carousing and gambling. There is a time-honored custom among the people to light bundles of paycáttee or faggots that night. As is naturally to be expected the children take a great delight in such pastimes. At the close of the Poojah a servant of the house takes a Koolow or winnowing fan and a stick with which he beats and sings "Bad luck out" and "Good luck in."[77]

Kali is also the guardian deity of thieves, robbers, thugs and such like desperate characters. Before starting on their diabolical work, they invoke her aid to protect them from detection and punishment. The supposed aid of the goddess arms them with courage and leads them to commit the most atrocious crimes. When successful they come and offer sacrifices of goats, spirituous liquors and other things, under an impression that the superintending power of the goddess has shielded them from all harm. But the unbending rigor of the British law has almost entirely dissipated the delusion. Many an infamous dacoit in Bengal has confessed his guilt on the scaffold, lamenting that "Ma Kali" had not protected him in the hour of need. The notorious "Rugho Dacoit" of Hooghly, whose very name terrified a wayward child into sleep, made fearful disclosures as to the originating cause of his numerous crimes. Some forty years ago there lived in Calcutta a very respectable Hindoo gentleman, by name Rajkissore Dutt, who was a very great devotee of this goddess. Every month, on the last night of the decrease of the moon, he, it was said, used to set up an image of this goddess, and adorned her person with gold and silver ornaments to the value of about one thousand Rupees which were afterwards given to the officiating priest. On the annual return of this grand Poojah in the month of Kartik, he used to give the goddess a gold tongue, and decorate her four arms with divers gold ornaments to the cost of about three thousand Rupees, and his other expenses amounted to another six or seven thousand. For a number of years he continued to celebrate the Poojah in the above magnificent style, his veneration becoming more intensified as his wealth increased. He established a Bank in Calcutta called the "India Bank," which circulated notes of its own to a considerable amount. A combination was formed among a few influential Natives, whose names I am ashamed to mention, and a well concocted system of fraud was organised. Through one, Dwarkey Nath Mitter, a son-in-law of Rajkissore, Company's Paper or Government Securities to the amount of about twenty Lakhs of Rupees were forged and passed off as genuine on the public. But as fraud succeeds for a short while only, the gigantic scheme was soon discovered, and the delinquent was tried, convicted and sentenced to transportation for life to one of the Penal Settlements of the East India Company, where he lived for several years to rue the consequences of his iniquitous conduct. His eldest son told the writer that his father concealed in a wall of one of the rooms of his house Bank notes for upwards of a Lakh of Rupees. When the search of the Police was over he opened the part of the wall and to his utter disappointment found all the notes crumbled to pieces, and become a small bundle of rotten paper of no earthly use to any one. Thus was iniquity rightly punished. No wonder that the deep faith of Rajkissore in the goddess Kali did not avail him in the hour of danger. His flagitious career commenced by a blind devotion to his guardian deity, culminated in a gigantic forgery, and closed with transportation and infamy.

It is generally known that there exists a temple of this goddess in the suburbs of Calcutta, which has long been celebrated for its sanctity. The place is called Kali Ghat, about four miles south of Government House. It is not exactly known when this temple was first built. The probable conjecture is that some three hundred years ago a shrewd and far-seeing member of the sacerdotal class, observing the great veneration in which the goddess was held among the Hindoos of those days, erected a temple to the image and gave the place a name after her, the renown of which, as Calcutta grew in importance, gradually spread far and wide. To perpetuate the holy character of the shrine, and to consecrate it by traditional sanctity, the following story was given out, in the truth of which the generality of the orthodox Hindoos have a firm belief. In time out of mind, when the Suttee (Doorga) destroyed herself on the Trisool (three edged weapon), one of her fingers was said to have fallen on the spot on which the temple now stands and in whose recess the priests pretend it is still preserved. Hence the sacred character of the shrine, which still attracts thousands of devotees every year from all parts. In popular estimation from a religious point of view she does not yield much to the Juggernauth of Orissa, the Bisseshur of Benares, the Krishna of Brindabun, the Gyasoor of Gya, and the Mahadeb of Buddinauth. Fortunately for the site of the temple, which is in close proximity to the metropolis of British India, and until recently was in the immediate neighbourhood of the highest Appellate Court (Suddur Dewanny Adawlut) independently of its bordering on the Addigunga (the original sacred stream of Ganges), it has always drawn the wealthiest and poorest portions of the Hindoo community. Had the offerings in gold, silver and in kind fallen to the share of one priest, it is not too much to say that he would long before this have been as rich as the Juggut Sett (Banker of the world) of Moorshedabad, who was reputed to have been worth upwards of fifteen crores of Rupees.

Wealthy Hindoos, when on a visit to Kali Ghat, expend from one to fifty thousand Rupees on the worship of this goddess, in the shape of valuable ornaments, silver plate, dishes &c., sweetmeats and food for a large number of Brahmins, and small presents to thousands of beggars, besides numerous sacrifices of goats, sheep and buffaloes, which make the space before the temple swim with blood. The flesh of goat, and sheep is freely used by the saktá class of Hindoos when offered to Kali and Doorga, but they would never use it without such an oblation. It is otherwise called brithá or unsanctified flesh, which is altogether quite unfit for the use of a religious Hindoo. But the progress of English education has made terrible inroads on the religious practices of the people, at least of the rising generation.[78] The following description of the Kali or Shyma Poojah given by Mr. Ward will serve to convey to the reader some idea of the nature of the festival.

"A few years ago," says he, "I went to the house of Kali Sunkur Ghose at Calcutta, at the time of the Shyma festival, to see the animals sacrificed to Kali. The buildings where the worship was performed were raised on four sides, with an area in the middle. The image was placed at the north end with the face to the south; and the two side rooms, and one of the end rooms opposite the image, were filled with spectators: in the area were the animals devoted to sacrifice, and also the executioner, with Kali Sunkur, a few attendants, and about twenty persons to throw the animal down and hold it in the post, while the head was cut off. The goats were sacrificed first, then the buffaloes, and last of all, two or three rams. In order to secure the animals, ropes were fastened round their legs; they were then thrown down, and the neck placed in a piece of wood fastened into the ground and open at the top like the space betwixt the prongs of a fork. After the animal's neck was fastened in the wood by a peg which passed over it, the men who held it pulled forcibly at the heels, while the executioner, with a broad heavy axe cut off the head at one blow; the heads were carried in an elevated posture by an attendant, (dancing as he went) the blood running down him on all sides, into the presence of the goddess. Kali Sunkur, at the close, went up to the executioner, took him in his arms, and gave him several presents of cloth, &c. The heads and blood of the animals, as well as different meat offerings, are presented, with incantations, as a feast to the goddess, after which clarified butter is burnt on a prepared altar of sand. Never did I see men so eagerly enter into the shedding of blood, nor do I think any butchers could slaughter animals more expertly. The place literally swam with blood. The bleating of the animals, the numbers slain, and the ferocity of the people employed, actually made me unwell, and I returned about midnight, filled with horror and indignation." In the foregoing account, Mr. Ward has omitted to say anything about the nocturnal revelry with which the festival is in most instances accompanied. I have witnessed scenes on such occasions, which are too disgusting to be described. Not only the officiating priest and the spiritual guide, but all the members of the family and not a few of the guests partake of the spirituous liquors offered to the goddess, and in a state of intoxication sing Ramprasadi songs befitting the occasion. The festival closes with orgies such as are observed in the worship of Bacchus. There are, however, a few honorable exceptions to the rule, who, though they perform the worship of this goddess, yet altogether abstain from drinking. The goddess, Kali, is their guardian deity, they worship her daily, but are known never to touch a drop of wine. They attribute to her all the worldly prosperity they enjoy and look to her for everlasting blessedness. Such men have no faith in the common drunken motto, "Bharey ma Bhobaney," mother Bhobaney (another name of Kali) is in the cup. But the grand characteristic of this and similar festivals which are annually recurring is, as I have already mentioned, "the wine, the fruit and the lady fair."

"Even bacchanalian madness has its charms."

But to return to the priests of Kali Ghat.—As time rolled on, their descendants multiplied so rapidly that it soon became necessary to allot a few days only in the year to each of the families, and on grand occasions, which are not a few, the offertories are proportionately divided among the whole set of the sacerdotal class. Thus it has now become a case of what a Hindoo proverb so aptly expresses: "The flesh of a sparrow divided into a hundred parts," or infinitesimal quantities.

God has so constituted man that he can find little or no enjoyment in a state of inactivity. The proper employment of time, therefore, is essentially necessary to the progressive development of our powers and faculties, the non exercise of which must needs induce idle and vicious habits. No bread is sweet unless it is earned by the sweat of our brow. The Haldars (priests) of Kali Ghaut having no healthy occupation in which to engage their minds, and depending for their sustenance on a means which requires neither physical nor mental labor, have inevitably been led to adopt the Epicurean mode of life, which says, "eat, drink and be merry." This habit is further confirmed by the peculiar nature of the religious principles which the worship of this goddess enjoins. Certain texts of the Tantra Shaster expressly inculcate that without drinking the mind is not properly prepared for religious exercise and contemplation. The pernicious effects of such a monstrous doctrine are sufficiently obvious. It has been said that not only the men but the women also are in the habit of drinking. As a necessary consequence the vicious practice has not only enervated their minds but made their "wealth small and their want great." Disputes often arise between the worshippers and the priests of the temple respecting the offerings and the proper division of the same, the latter often claiming the lion's share which the former are unwilling to submit to. Gross lies are sometimes told in the presence of the goddess in order to secure to the major portion of the offerings in the interests of the worshippers—an expedient which the notorious rapacity of the officiating Brahmins imperatively demands. Surrounded by an atmosphere densely impregnated with the miasm of a false religion and a corrupt morality, the ennobling thought of a true God and the moral accountability of man never enters their minds. The chief end and aim of their life is to impose on the credulity of their blind votaries, and thereby pander to their unhallowed desires and selfish gratification. Nor can they rise to a higher and purer sphere of life because from their childhood they are nurtured in the cradle of error, ignorance, indolence and profligacy. Who can contemplate the effects of their impure orgies on the eighth, ninth, fourteenth and fifteen nights of the increase and decrease of the moon without being reminded of the saturnalia of the Greeks?[79] If a sober-minded man were to visit the holy shrine of Kali Ghat on one of these nights, he would doubtless be shocked at the unrestrained debauchery that runs riot in the name of religion. The temple, no less than the private domicile of the priests, presents an uninterrupted scene of bacchanalian revelry, which is unspeakably abominable. Men deprived of a sense of shame, and women of decency and morality, mingle in the revels, and the result is that all the cherished notions of the better part of humanity are at once put to flight. It is painful to reflect that notwithstanding the progress of enlightenment in the great centre of Indian civilization, people still cling to the adoration of a blood-thirsty goddess, and to the support of a depraved class of priests. The sacrifices of goats that are daily offered before the altar of Kali being too numerous for local consumption, are sold to outside customers much in the same manner as fruits and vegetables are brought from the neighbouring villages into the market. On Saturday the sale is larger than on the other week days, because that night is specially dedicated to the worship of Bacchus, Sunday affording a respite from work. But the sale of Kali Ghat goat meat has of late been much interfered with by the establishment of rival shrines in several parts of Calcutta, where a pound is to be had for three annas. The owners (mostly prostitutes and drunkards) of these pseudo-goddesses, vulgarly called Kasháye or butcher Kali, sacrifice one or two goats every morning without any ceremony, except on Saturday when the number is doubled to meet increased requirements. Thus a regular and profitable butcher's trade is openly carried on in the name of the goddess, and the generality of the Sakta Hindoos feel no religious scruples in using the meat which is thus sanctified. The comparative ease with which flesh is now obtained in Calcutta has tended, in no small degree, to encourage habits of drinking among a proverbially abstemious race of men; it being the popular impression that meat neutralises the effects of spirituous liquors.[80]

Many images of Kali which have from time to time been set up in and about Calcutta, ostensibly for religious but practically for secular purposes, in imitation of the unrivalled prototype at Kali Ghat, have acquired unenviable celebrity, and been made subservient as a source of income to the owner and the officiating priests, who fatten on the offerings made to the goddess in the shape of money and provisions. Thus, for instance, the Sidhassurry or Kali of Nimtollah obtains a few Rupees daily from such Hindoos as are carried to the riverside to breathe their last, independently of the small presents made at all hours of the day, especially in the mornings and evenings, when the crowd assembles. It is amusing to observe the complaisance with which a Brahmin gives a consecrated Billaputtra or flower to a devotee in return for a Rupee or so. A shrewd Brahmin, like the ancient Roman soothsayer, laughs in his sleeves at such stupidity.

A Sanskrit proverb says that a meritorious work endures. It keeps alive the name of the founder, and this vanity furnishes the strongest stimulus to the endowment of works of a religious character, and of public utility. It is, however, a painful fact that the nature and character of such endowments is, in most cases, lamentably wanting in the element of stability. Two or three generations after the death of the founder, the substance of the estate being impaired, the family is reduced to a state of poverty, the surviving members, often a set of demoralised idlers, depend for their support on the usufruct of the Deybatra, originally set apart for exclusively religious purposes, and placed beyond the reach of law. In these days the offshoots of many families are absolutely dependent on this sacred fund for their subsistence, and the consequence naturally is that the endowment is frittered away and the work itself inevitably falls into decay. Thus in process of time both the fund and the founder's name pass into utter oblivion.[81]

The following account given by Mr. Ward about the death of a devotee of this goddess will not be uninteresting. "In the year 1809, Trigonu Goswamee, a vyuktavudhootu, died at Kali Ghat in the following manner: Three days before his death, he dug a grave near his hut, in a place surrounded by three vilwu trees which he himself had planted. In the evening he placed a lamp in the grave, in which an offering of flesh, greens, rice, &c., to the shakals was made, repeating it the next evening. The following day he obtained from a rich native ten rupees worth of spirituous liquors, and invited a number of mendicants, who sat drinking with him till twelve at noon, when he asked among the spectators at what hour it would be full moon; being informed, he went and sat in his grave, and continued drinking liquors. Just before the time for the full moon, he turned his head towards the temple of Kali, and informed the spectators that he had come to Kali Ghat with the hope of seeing the goddess, not the image in the temple. He had been frequently urged by different persons to visit the temple, but though he had not assigned a reason for his omission, he now asked what he was to go and see there: a temple? He could see that from where he was. A piece of stone made into a face, or the silver hands? He could see stones and silver any where else. He wished to see the goddess herself, but he had not, in this body, obtained the sight. However, he had still a mouth and a tongue, and he would again call upon her; he then called out aloud twice, "Kali? Kali?" and almost immediately died;—probably from excessive intoxication. The spectators, though Hindoos (who in general despise a drunkard), considered this man as a great saint, who had foreseen his own death, when in health. He had not less than four hundred disciples."

The various causes which have hitherto conspired to impart a sanctity to this famous temple are gradually waning in their influence, but it will be a very long time before the minds of the mass of the people are completely purified in the crucible of true Religion, before which superstition and priestcraft must vanish into air.

X.

THE SARASWATI POOJAH.

Saraswati is the Hindoo goddess of learning. She is represented as seated in a water lily and playing on a lute. Throughout Bengal her worship is celebrated with more or less pomp on the fifth day of the increase of the moon, in the Bengali month of Magha or Falgoon (February). As the popular Shastras reckon the commencement of spring from this date, the people, especially the young and gay of both sexes, put on basantee or yellow garments, and indulge in all sorts of low merriment, manifesting a depraved and vitiated taste.

Every Hindoo, young or old, who is able to read and write, observes this ceremony with apparent solemnity, abstaining from the use of fish on that day as a mark of reverence to the goddess. The worship is performed either before an image of the goddess, or before a pen, ink-bottle and pooti (manuscript), which are symbolically regarded as an appropriate substitute for the image. The officiating priest, after reading the prescribed formula, and presenting rice, fruits, sweetmeats, flowers, &c., directs the votaries of the goddess to stand up with flowers in their hands and repeat the usual service, beseeching her to bestow on them the blessings of learning, health, wealth, good luck, longevity, fame, &c. Apart from its idolatrous feature, it is a rather strange sight to see a number of youths, after going through the process of ablution and changing their clothes, stand up before the goddess in a body, and in a devotional spirit address her in prayer for the blessings above enumerated. Even apart from its superstitious character, it is decidedly objectionable on the score of its purely secular tendency, as it makes no allusion whatever to the primary object of all prayer, viz., the atonement and pardon of sin and the salvation of the soul—an element in which the religious ceremonies of the Hindoos are singularly deficient.

"Life is real, life is earnest,
And the grave is not its goal;
'Dust thou art, to dust returnest,'
Was not spoken of the soul."

It was reported of Sir William Jones that when he studied Sanskrit, he used to place on the table a metal image of this goddess, evidently to please his Pundit. Let it not be inferred from this that he advocated the continuance of idolatry; far from it, but even in appearance to acquiesce in homage to an idol made of clay and straw is to withhold from the Most High the reverence, gratitude and obedience due to Him alone. The early formation of a prayerful habit divested of any idolatrous feature will always exercise a healthy religious influence on the mind in maturer years.

In every chatoospati or school, the Brahmin Pundit and his pupils worship this goddess with religious strictness. The Pundit setting up an image, invites all his patrons, neighbouring friends and acquaintances on this occasion. Every one who attends must make a present of one or a half Rupee to the goddess, and returns home with the hollow benediction of the Brahmin. To so miserable a strait have the learned Pundits been reduced of late years, that they anxiously look forward to the anniversary of this festival as a small harvest of gain to them, as the authoritative ministers of the goddess. They make from fifty to one hundred Rupees a year by the celebration of this Poojah, which keeps them for six months; should any of their friends fail to make the usual present to the goddess, they are sure to come and demand it as a right.[82]

Females are not allowed to take a part in the worship of this goddess, simply because the great lawgiver of the country has denied them this privilege. They, however, now-a-days read and write in spite of the traditional prohibition, but are religiously forbidden to say their prayer before the goddess, though she is herself an embodiment of their sex. It is quite obvious that feelings of lamentable debasement arise in their hearts at the annual recurrence of this festival, strongly reminding them of the unhealthy, unnatural ordinance of their great lawgiver.

The day following the Poojah, the women are not permitted to eat any fresh prepared article of food, but must be satisfied with stale, cold things, such as boiled rice and boiled pease with a few vegetables, totally abstaining from fish, which they cannot do without on any other day. Taking place on the sixth day of the increase of the moon, this part of the festival is called Situl Shasthi as enjoining the use of cold food.

As a mark of homage to the goddess, the Hindoos do not read or write on that day. Hence the day is observed as a holiday in public and mercantile offices where the clerks are mostly Hindoos. Should any necessity arise they write in red ink, as all the inkstands in the household are washed out and placed before the goddess for annual consecration. They are, however, not prevented from attending to secular business on this occasion. Unlike the sanguinary character of the Poojahs of Doorga and Kali, no bloody sacrifices are offered to this gentle goddess, but as regards rude merriment, the one in question does not form an exception to the others. Revelry and unbecoming mirth are the grand characteristics of this as indeed of almost every other Hindoo festival. It is sickening to reflect how indecency and immorality are thus unblushingly countenanced under the sacred name of religion.

Loose women celebrate this festival, and keep up dancing and singing all night in a bestial state of intoxication to the utter disgust of all sober-minded men. The Moharajah of Burdwan used to expend large sums of money on this occasion, engaging the best dancing girls of the metropolis and illuminating and ornamenting his palace in a splendid style, besides giving entertainment to his English and Native friends. Vast multitudes of people from Calcutta still resort to his palace and admire the profuse festoons of flowers and the yellow appearance of everything, indicative of the advent of spring,—a season which, according to popular notion, invites the mind to indulge in licentious mirth. It is needless to enumerate farther the many obscenities practised in songs and actions on this occasion.

XI.

THE FESTIVAL OF CAKES.

On the annual commemoration of this popular festival in Bengal, which is analogous to the English "Harvest home," the people in general, and the agricultural classes in particular, manifest a gleeful appearance, indicative of national demonstrations of joy and mirth. It takes place in the Bengalee month of Pous or January, following immediately in the wake of the English Christmas and New year's day. With the exception of the upper ten thousand, almost all men, women and children alike participate in the festivities of the season, and for three succeeding days are occupied in rural pastimes and gastronomical enjoyment. The popular cry on this occasion, is—"Awoynee, Bownee, teen deen, pittaey, bhat, khawnee," "the Pous or Makar Sankranti is come, let three days be passed in eating cakes and rice," accompanied by a supplementary invocation to the goddess of Prosperity (Lukshmee) that she may afford her votaries ample stores so that they may never know want. As the outward manifestation of this internal wish, they tie all their chests, boxes, beddings, the earthen cooking pots in the kitchen, as well as those in the store-house containing their food grains, and in fact every movable article in the house, with shreds of straw that they may always remain intact. The origin of this festival is involved in obscurity, but tradition says that it sprung from the general desire of the people engaged in agricultural pursuits to celebrate the last day of Pous, and two succeeding days, in eating what they most relish, cakes of all sorts, to their hearts' content, after having harvested and gathered their corn and other food grains, which form the main staff of their life. Whatever may have been the origin of this festival, it is evident that it does not owe its existence, like most other Hindoo festivals, to priestcraft. The idea is good and the tendency excellent. After harvesting and gathering the fruits of their labour, on which depend not only their individual subsistence throughout the year, but the general prosperity of the country by the development of its resources, the husbandmen are well entitled to lay aside, for a short while, the ploughshare, and taking three days' rest, spend them in rural amusements and festivities amid their domestic circle. All this tends, in no small degree, to awaken and revive dormant feelings of love and friendliness by mutual exchange of invitations as well as of good fellowship. Their incessant toil in the field during the seven previous months, their intense anxiety on the score of weather, carefully noting, though not with the scientific precision of the meteorological reporter, deficient and plenteous rainfall, and apprehending the destructive October gale, when the ears of corn are almost fully developed, their constant watchfulness for the prevention of theft and the destruction of the crops by cattle, their unceasing weeding out of troublesome and useless plants and cassay grass, sometimes wading in marshy swamp or mire knee deep, and their incessant anxiety for the due payment of rent to the zemindar, or perhaps of interest to the relentless money lender, are sources of uneasiness that do not allow them a moment's peace of mind. Should they, by way of relaxation, cease to work for three days in the year, they are not to be blamed for laziness or supineness. The question of a good harvest is of such immense importance to an agricultural country like India, that when the god, Ram Chunder, the model king, visited his subjects in Oude, the first thing he asked them was about the state of the crops, and when the enquiry was favorably answered, his mind was set at rest, and he cheerfully unfolded to them the scheme of his future Government.[83] Physically and practically considered, temporary cessation from labor is indispensable to recruit the energy of the exhausted frame of body, and promote the normal vigor of mind. So in whatever light this national jubilee is regarded, socially, morally or scientifically, it is productive of beneficial results, ultimately contributing to the augmentation of the material prosperity of the land.

Some of my countrymen of a fastidious taste look upon this festival as a puerile and foolish entertainment, because it possesses no dignified feature to commend it to their attention, but they should consider that it is free from the idolatrous abominations and rank obscenity by which most of the Hindoo festivals are characterised, independently of its having a tendency to promote the innocent mirth and general hilarity of the masses, whose contentment is the best test of a good government and of a generous landed aristocracy.

So popular is this festival amongst the people that the Mussulmans have a common saying to the effect, that their Eed, Bakrid and Shub-i-Barat—three of their greatest national festivals—are no match for the Hindoo Pous Sakrad.

Our children and women in the city, whose minds are so largely tinctured with an instinctive regard for all festivities, share in the general excitement. On this occasion, exchanges of presents of sweetmeats, cloths, jaggery, ghee, flour, oranges, cereals, cocoanuts, balls of concentrated milk, vegetables, spices, sugar, almonds, raisins, etc, are made between relatives in order that they may be enabled to solemnise the cake festival with the greatest éclat. In respectable families, the women cheerfully take the trouble of making these preparations, instead of trusting them to their female cooks, because male cooks are no adepts in the art. So nicely are these cakes made and in such variety, that the late Mr. Cockerell, a highly respected merchant of this City, used every year to get an assortment from his Baboo and invite his friends to partake of them; and notwithstanding the proverbial differences of taste, there are few who would not relish them.

The boys in the many pátshálás or primary schools around Calcutta, annually keep up this festival in a splendid style. The more advanced form themselves into a band of songsters, and, attended by bands of musicians with all the usual accompaniments of flags, staves, etc., proceed in procession from their respective schools to the bank of the river Bhagiruttee, singing rhythmically in a chorus all the way in praise of the holy stream, and of her powers of salvation in the present Kali Yuga, or iron age. When they reach their destination they pour forth their songs most vociferously. They afterwards perform the usual ablutions and return home in the same manner as they set out from the Pátshálá, regarding the performance as an act of great merit.

XII.

The Holi Festival.

The annual return of this festival in honor of the god Krishna, excites the religious feelings and superstitious frenzy of the Hindoos not only in Bengal but also in Orissa, Bombay, and in the Upper Provinces of India. From time immemorial, it has continued to exercise a very great influence over the minds of the people at large, so much so that what the Holi festival is in the Upper Provinces, the Doorga Poojah is in the Lower Provinces of Bengal, being by far the most popular and demonstrative in all their leading features. Though originally and essentially a Hindoo festival of a religious character, dedicated to the worship of a Hindoo god, it has subsequently assumed a jubilant phase, drawing the followers of a different creed to its ranks; hence not a few Mussulmans in Upper India observe it in a secular sense, quite distinct from its religious aspect or requirements.

In Bengal it is called Dole Jattra, or the rocking of the image of Krishna on its throne. It occurs on the day of the full moon in the Bengallee month of Falgoon or March, at the vernal equinox,—a season of the year when all the appetites, passions and desires of the people are supposed to be more or less inflamed, and they naturally seek outlets of gratification. In the Upper Provinces it is known by the name of Holi, or festival of scattering fhag or red powder among friends and others. On the previous night the people both here and in the Upper Provinces burn amidst music the effigy of an uncouth straw image of a giant named Maydhasoor, who caused great disturbance among the gods and goddesses in their hours of meditation and prayer. To put a stop to this unholy molestation the god Narayan or Krishna destroyed the giant by means of his matchless valor and skill, and thus restored peace in heaven as well as on earth. To commemorate this glorious achievement, the image of the above giant is annually burnt on the night previous to the Holi festival.

The religious part of the ceremony, irrespective of its idolatrous element, is performed in accordance with the original rules of the Hindoo ritual, which are free from all kinds of abominations. But the great body of the people, lacking the vital principle of a pure and true faith and following the impulse of unrestrained appetites, have gradually sunk into the depths of corruption,—the outcome of impure imaginations and of a vitiated taste. In Bengal, the observance of this festival is not characterised by anything that is violently opposed to the social amenities of life. Notwithstanding the many-featured phases and multitudinous requirements of the Hindoo creed, the peculiarities of this festival are mainly confined to the worship of the household image, and the entertainment of the Brahmins and friends. Daubing the bodies of the guests with red powder in an either dry or liquid state, and singing songs descriptive of the sports of Krishna with the milk-maids in the groves of Brindabun, form the constituent elements of the festival in Bengal. Offerings of rice, fruits and sweetmeats are made to the god, and its body is also smeared with red powder by the officiating priest, so as to render it one with that of its followers. At the close of the ceremony, the rite of purification is performed, which restores the image—either a piece of stone or metal—to its normal purity.

It is a noteworthy fact that in this festival, no new image made of clay and straw is either set up or thrown into the sacred stream, as is invariably the case with the other Hindoo gods and goddesses generally worshipped by the people of Bengal. Krishna, in whose honor this festival is celebrated, has many forms, one of which generally constitutes the household deity that is worshipped every morning and evening by the hereditary priest with all the solemnity of a religious service. A Hindoo who keeps an image of this god is esteemed more in a religious point of view than one who is without it. In the popular estimation he escapes many censures to which a godless Hindoo is often exposed. Nor is this at all singular. An orthodox Hindoo who offers up his daily prayer to his tutelar deity is at least more consistent in his principles, which, as Confucius very justly says, means Heaven, than one who is tossed about by a wavering faith in the indistinguishable whirl of life.

The festival of Dole Jattra or Holi in Bengal, commencing on the day of the full moon, varies, however, in its observance as to the day on which it is to be held. Some celebrate it on the first, some on the second, and some again on the third, fifth, seventh, ninth day of the dark phase of the moon. Generally Vaishnaws, or the followers of Krishna, observe it, though in some cases, the Saktos,—the followers of Doorga and Kalli—also celebrate it. No bloody sacrifices are offered on the occasion. Apart from the religious merit attributed to the ceremonial, it is comparatively a tame and undemonstrative affair in the Lower Provinces of Bengal when compared with the sensational excitement with which it is celebrated in the Upper Provinces. In Orissa too, it is kept up with great eclat before the shrine of Juggurnauth and its environs. Thousands and tens of thousands of pilgrims from a great distance congregate there on this occasion and offer their oblations to the "stumped" lord of the world. When the inhabitants of Bengal talk of their most popular festivals, they pronounce almost involuntarily the Dole and Doorgutsub, but the latter has long since completely eclipsed the former. Morally, socially and intellectually the enlightened Bengallees are assuredly the Athenians of Hindoostan. Their growing intelligence and refined taste,—the outcome of English education—have imbued them with a healthier ideal of moral excellence than any other section of the Indian population throughout the length and breadth of the land (the Parsis of Bombay excepted). It is owing to the influence of this superior moral sense that they do not abandon themselves to the general corruption of manners obtaining in Upper India during the Holi festival.

"Fools make a mock at sin" is a scriptural proverb which is especially applicable to the inhabitants of the Upper Provinces on the annual return of this festival. Unlike their brethren in Bengal they pay greater attention to the secular than to the religious part of the ceremony. A few days before the Holi, as if to enkindle the flame of a national demonstration of a sensational character, they return to the low, obscene old ballads which constitute a notable feature of the ceremonial. Week after week, day after day, and hour after hour, they pour them out almost as spontaneously as a bird, because they have a perverse propensity for the indulgence of impure thoughts, and rude, profane mirth, which is an outrage on common decency and a scandal to a rational being. Notwithstanding the vigilance of the Police and the stringency of the Penal Code, these ragamuffins stroll along the public streets in bands, dance antics and sing obscene songs with impunity, simply because the major portion of the Native constables come from the same lower strata of society. Of course before a European they dare not commit the same nuisance. Should a luckless female, even old and infirm, chance to come in their way, they unblushingly assail her with a volley of scurrilous and insulting epithets much too gross to be tolerated by a rational being having the smallest modicum of decorum about him. To give a specimen of the songs, vulgar as they unquestionably are, would be an act of unpardonable profanation. Even in the Burra Bazar of Calcutta, where the Up-country Hindoos mostly reside, excesses and enormities are committed, even in the full blaze of day, which alike belie reason and conscience, and ignore the divine part of humanity. Mirth, music and melody do not form the programme of their amusement, but a feverish excitement, originating in lust and leading to criminal excesses, is the characteristic of the scene. If a sober-minded man were permitted to examine the Cash Book of a country liquor shop, he would most assuredly be struck with the enormous receipts of the shopkeeper during the festive days on this occasion. Bacchanalianism in all its most detestable forms reigns rampant in almost every home and purlieu throughout the Upper Provinces. Every brothel, every toddykhannah, every grog shop, is crowded with customers from early morning to dewy evening and later on. An almost incessant volume of polluted and polluting outcries rises to the skies from these dens of sin, smirching and vulgarising the brilliant ideals of a holy festival. The endless chanting of obscene songs, the discordant notes of the inebriated songsters almost tearing their throats in excessive vociferations, the harsh din of music, their frightful gesticulations and contortions of the body, their frantic dance, their dithyrambic fanaticism in which every sense of decorum is lost, their horrid looks rendered tenfold more horrid by reason of their smearing their bodies with red powder, the pestiferous atmosphere by which they are encompassed, and their reeling posture and bestial intoxication, all conspire to make them "mock at sin."[84] Nor is this to be wondered at. The lives and examples of the Hindoo gods have, in a great measure, moulded the character of their followers: "Shiva is represented as declaring to Luckhee that he would part with the merit of his works for the gratification of a criminal passion; Brahma as burning with lust towards his own daughter; Krishna as living with the wife of another, murdering a washerman and stealing his clothes, and sending his friend Yoodhisthira to the regions of torment by causing him to utter a falsehood; Indra and Chundra are seen as the paramours of the wives of their spiritual guides." It is much to be lamented that the authors of the Hindoo mythology have unscrupulously held up the revels of their gods to the imitation of their followers.

It is but just to observe that the more respectable classes are restrained by a sense of honor from participating with the populace in the vicious pleasures of undisciplined passions. But their implied approval of such sensual gratifications tends, in no small degree, to fan the flame of superstitious frenzy. If they do not expose themselves in the highway, they betray their concupiscence within the confines of their own dwellings. They substitute opium and bhang (hemp) for spirituous liquors, and among the females of the house, some aunt or other is the butt of their rude, unseemly satire. Their lusts and want of inward discipline, stimulated by a false religion as well as by the demoralized rules of an abnormal conventionalism, have deadened, as it were, their finer sensibilities, and generations must pass away before they are enabled rightly to appreciate their social relations and their moral and religious duties.

XIII.

CASTE.

The distinction of caste is woven into the very texture of Hindoo society. In whatever light it is considered, religiously, morally, or socially, it must be admitted that this abnormal system is calculated to perpetuate the ignorance and degradation of the race among which it prevails. It is useless to enquire when and by whom it was founded. The Hindoo Shastras do not agree as to this point, but it is obvious to conclude that it must have originated in a dark age when a proud and selfish priesthood, in the exercise of its sacerdotal functions, imposed on the people this galling yoke of religious and social servitude. Even the rulers of the land were not exempt from its baneful influence. They were as much subject to the prescribed rules of their order as the common people. Calculating on the implicit and unquestioning obedience of men to their authoritative injunctions, a scheming hierarchy established a universal system, the demoralizing effects of which are perhaps without a parallel in the annals of human society. The capacity and culture of man's intellect was shamefully under-estimated when it was expected that such an artificial order, so preposterously unsuited to the interests of humanity and to the advancement of civilization, should for ever continue to influence the life and destiny of unborn generations.

"The distinctions of rank in Europe" says Mr. Ward, "are founded upon civic merit or learning, and answer very important ends in the social union; but this system commences with an act of the most consummate injustice that was ever perpetrated; binds in chains of adamant nine-tenths of the people, debars them for ever from all access to a higher state, whatever their merits may be; puts a lock upon the whole intellect of three of the four orders, and branding their very birth with infamy, and rivetting their chains for ever, says to millions and millions of mankind,—'you proceeded from the feet of Brahma, you were created for servitude.'"

History furnishes no parallel to such an audacious declaration, made in utter defiance of the fundamental principles of humanity. The onward march of intellect can never be checked, even when fenced in by the strongest of artificial barriers. Still will that "grey spirit" rise and chase away the errors which age has accumulated and superstition cherished.

"That grey spirit yearning in desire
To follow knowledge, like a sinking star,
Beyond the utmost bound of human thought."

The distinction of caste, it is obvious, was originally instituted to secure to the hierarchy all the superior advantages of a privileged class, and to condemn all other orders to follow menial occupations such as the trades of the country could furnish. They kept the key of knowledge in their own hands, and thus exercised a domineering influence over the mass of the people, imagining that their exclusive privileges should have endless duration. This power in their hands was "either a treasury chest or a rod of iron." The mind recoils from contemplating what would have been the state of the country, the extent of her hopelessness and helplessness, if the light of European knowledge had not dawned and penetrated the Hindoo mind, and thereby introduced a healthier state of things. Eighty years back this system was at the zenith of its splendour; men clung to it with all the tenacity of a natural institution, and proscribed those who ventured to break through its fetters. It was a terrible thing then to depart from the established order of social union; the least whisper of a deviation and the slightest violation of its rules were visited with social persecution of the worst type. I cannot do better than give a few instances, illustrating the nature of the punishments to which a Hindoo was subjected in that period of terror, when caste-mania raged most furiously.

"After the establishment of the English power in Bengal, the caste of a Brahmin of Calcutta was destroyed by a European who forced into his mouth flesh, spirits, &c. After remaining three years an outcast, great efforts were made, at an expense of eighty thousand rupees, to restore him to the pale of his caste, but in vain, as many Brahmins of the same order refused to associate with him as one of their own. After this, an expense of two lacks of Rupees more was incurred, when he was re-admitted to the privileges of his caste. About the year 1802, a person in Calcutta expended in feasting and presents to Brahmins fifty thousand Rupees to be re-admitted into the ring of his caste from which he had been excluded for eating with a Brahmin of the Peeralee caste. Not long after this, two Peeralee Brahmins of Calcutta made an effort to wipe out the opprobrium of Peeralism, but were disappointed, though they had expended a very large sum of money.