Rambles and Recollections of an Indian Official by William Sleeman

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Sarimant's man of affairs mentioned that when Lord Hastings took the
field against the Pindharis, in 1817,[5] and the division of the
grand army under his command was encamped near the grove in
Bundelkhand, where repose the ashes of Hardaul Lala, under a small
shrine, a cow was taken into this grove to be converted into beef for
the use of the Europeans. The priest in attendance remonstrated, but
in vain--the cow was killed and eaten. The priest complained, and
from that day the cholera morbus broke out in the camp; and from this
central point it was, he said, generally understood to have spread
all over India.[6] The story of the cow travelled at the same time,
and the spirit of Hardaul Lala was everywhere supposed to be riding
in the whirlwind, and _directing the storm_. Temples were everywhere
erected, and offerings made to appease him; and in six years after,
he had himself seen them as far as Lahore, and in almost every
village throughout the whole course of his journey to that distant
capital and back. He is one of the most sensible and freely spoken
men that I have met with. 'Up to within the last few years', added
he, 'the spirit of Hardaul Lala had been propitiated only in cases of
cholera morbus; but now he is supposed to preside over all kinds of
epidemic diseases, and offerings have everywhere been made to his
shrine during late influenzas.'[7]

'This of course arises', I observed, 'from the industry of his
priests, who are now spread all over the country; and you know that
there is hardly a village or hamlet in which there are not some of
them to be found subsisting upon the fears of the people.'

'I have no doubt', replied he, 'that the cures which the people
attribute to the spirit of Hardaul Lala often arise merely from the
firmness of their faith (_itikad_) in the efficacy of their
offerings; and that any other ceremonies, that should give to their
minds the same assurance of recovery, would be of great advantage in
cases of epidemic diseases. I remember a singular instance of this,'
said he. 'When Jeswant Rao Holkar was flying before Lord Lake to the
banks of the Hyphasis,[8] a poor trooper of one of his lordship's
irregular corps, when he tied the grain-bag to his horse's mouth,
said 'Take this in the name of Jeswant Rao Holkar, for to him you and
I owe all that we have.' The poor man had been suffering from an
attack of ague and fever; but from that moment he felt himself
relieved, and the fever never returned. At that time this fever
prevailed more generally among the people of Hindustan than any I
have ever known, though I am now an old man. The speech of the
trooper and the supposed result soon spread; and others tried the
experiment with similar success, and it acted everywhere like a
charm. I had the fever myself, and, though by no means a
superstitious man, and certainly no lover of Jeswant Rao Holkar, I
tried the experiment, and the fever left me from that day. From that
time, till the epidemic disappeared, no man, from the Nerbudda to the
Indus, fed his horse without invoking the spirit of Jeswant Rao,
though the chief was then alive and well. Some one had said he found
great relief from plunging into the stream during the paroxysms of
the fever; others followed the example, and some remained for half an
hour at a time, and the sufferers generally found relief. The streams
and tanks throughout the districts between the Ganges and Jumna
became crowded, till the propitiatory offering to the spirit of the
living Jeswant Rao Holkar were [sic] found equally good, and far less
troublesome to those who had horses that must have got their grain,
whether in Holkar's name or not.'

There is no doubt that the great mass of those who had nothing but
their horses and their _good blades_ to depend upon for their
subsistence did most fervently pray throughout India for the safety
of this Maratha chief, when he fled before Lord Lake's army; for they
considered that, with his fall, the Company's dominion would become
everywhere securely established, and that good soldiers would be at a
discount. '_Company ke amal men kuchh rozgar nahin hai_,'--'There is
no employment in the Company's dominion,' is a common maxim, not only
among the men of the sword and the spear, but among those merchants
who lived by supporting native civil and military establishments with
the luxuries and elegancies which, under the new order of things,
they have no longer the means to enjoy.

The noisy _puja_ (worship), about which our conversation began, took
place at Sagar in April, 1832, while I was at that station. More than
four-fifths of the people of the city and cantonments had been
affected by a violent influenza, which commenced with a distressing
cough, was followed by fever, and, in some cases, terminated in
death. I had an application from the old Queen Dowager of Sagar, who
received a pension of ten thousand pounds a year from the British
Government,[9] and resided in the city, to allow of a _noisy_
religious procession to implore deliverance from this great calamity.
Men, women, and children in this procession were to do their utmost
to add to the noise by 'raising their voices in _psalmody_', beating
upon their brass pots and pans with all their might, and discharging
fire-arms where they could get them; and before the noisy crowd was
to be driven a buffalo, which had been purchased by a general
subscription, in order that every family might participate in the
merit. They were to follow it out for eight miles, where it was to be
turned loose for any man who would take it. If the animal returned,
the disease, it was said, must return with it, and the ceremony be
performed over again. I was requested to intimate the circumstance to
the officer commanding the troops in cantonments, in order that the
hideous noise they intended to make might not excite any alarm, and
bring down upon them the visit of the soldiery. It was, however,
subsequently determined that the animal should be a goat, and he was
driven before the crowd accordingly. I have on several occasions been
requested to allow of such noisy _pujas_ in cases of epidemics; and
the confidence they feel in their efficiency has, no doubt, a good
effect.

While in civil charge of the district of Narsinghpur, in the valley
of the Nerbudda, in April 1823, the cholera morbus raged in almost
every house of Narsinghpur and Kandeli, situated near each other,[l0]
and one of them close to my dwelling-house and court. The European
physicians lost all confidence in their prescriptions, and the people
declared that the hand of God was upon them, and by appeasing Him
could they alone hope to be saved.[11] A religious procession was
determined upon; but the population of both towns was divided upon
the point whether a silent or a noisy one would be most acceptable to
God. Hundreds were dying around me when I was applied to to settle
this knotty point between the parties. I found that both in point of
numbers and respectability the majority was in favour of the silent
procession, and I recommended that this should be adopted. The
procession took place about nine the same night, with all due
ceremony; but the advocates for noise would none of them assist in
it. Strange as it may appear, the disease abated from that moment;
and the great majority of the population of both towns believed that
their prayers had been heard; and I went to bed with a mind somewhat
relieved by the hope that this feeling of confidence might be useful.
About one o'clock I was awoke from a sound sleep by the most hideous
noise that I had ever heard; and, not at that moment recollecting the
proposal for the noisy procession, ran out of my house, in
expectation of seeing both towns in flames. I found that the
advocates for noise, resolving to have their procession, had
assembled together about midnight; and, apprehensive that they might
be borne down by the advocates for silence and my police
establishment, had determined to make the most of their time, and put
in requisition all the pots, pans, shells, trumpets, pistols, and
muskets that they could muster. All opened at once about one o'clock;
and, had there been any virtue in discord, the cholera must soon have
deserted the place, for such another hideous compound of noises I
never heard. The disease, which seemed to have subsided with the
silent procession before I went to bed, now returned with double
violence, as I was assured by numbers who flocked to my house in
terror; and the whole population became exasperated with the leaders
of the noisy faction, who had, they believed, been the means of
bringing back among them all the horrors of this dreadful scourge.

I asked the Hindoo Sadar Amin, or head native judicial officer at
Sagar, a very profound Sanskrit scholar, what he thought of the
efficacy of these processions in checking epidemic diseases. He said
that 'there could be nothing more clear than the total inefficiency
of medicine in such cases; and, when medicine failed, a man's only
resource was in prayers; that the diseases of mankind were to be
classed under three general heads: first, those suffered for sins
committed in some former births; second, those suffered for sins
committed in the present birth; third, those merely accidental. Now,'
said the old gentleman, 'it must be clear to every unprejudiced mind
that the third only can be cured or checked by the physician.'
Epidemics, he thought, must all be classed under the second head, and
as inflicted by the Deity for some very general sin; consequently, to
be removed only by prayers; and, whether silent or noisy, was, he
thought, matter of little importance, provided they were offered in
the same spirit. I believe that, among the great mass of the people
of India, three-fourths of the diseases of individuals are attributed
to evil spirits and evil eyes; and for every physician among them
there are certainly ten _exorcisers_. The faith in them is very great
and very general; and, as the gift is supposed to be supernatural, it
is commonly exercised without fee or reward. The gifted person
subsists upon some other employment, and _exorcises_ gratis.

A child of one of our servants was one day in convulsions from its
sufferings in cutting its teeth. The Civil Surgeon happened to call
that morning, and he offered to lance the child's gums. The poor
mother thanked him, but stated that there could be no possible doubt
as to the source of her child's sufferings--that the devil had got
into it during the night, and would certainly not be frightened out
by his little lancet; but she expected every moment my old tent-
pitcher, whose exorcisms no devil of this description had ever yet
been able to withstand.

The small-pox had been raging in the town of Jubbulpore for some time
during one hot season that I was there, and a great many children had
died from it. The severity of the disease was considered to have been
a good deal augmented by a very untoward circumstance that had taken
place in the family of the principal banker of the town, Khushhal
Chand. Sewa Ram Seth, the old man, had lately died, leaving two sons.
Ram Kishan, the eldest, and Khushhal Chand, the second. The eldest
gave up all the management of the sublunary concerns of the family,
and devoted his mind entirely to religious duties. They had a very
fine family temple of their own, in which they placed an image of
their god Vishnu, cut out of the choicest stone of the Nerbudda, and
consecrated after the most approved form, and with very expensive
ceremonies. This idol Ram Kishan used every day to wash with his own
hands with rosewater, and anoint with precious ointments. One day,
while he had the image in his arms, and was busily employed in
anointing it, it fell to the ground upon the stone pavement, and one
of the arms was broken. To live after such an untoward accident was
quite out of the question, and poor Ram Kishan proceeded at once
quietly to hang himself. He got a rope from the stable, and having
tied it over the beam in the room where he had let the god fall upon
the stone pavement, he was putting his head calmly into the noose,
when his brother came in, laid hold of him, called for assistance,
and put him under restraint. A conclave of the priests of that sect
was immediately held in the town, and Ram Kishan was told that
hanging himself was not absolutely necessary; that it might do if he
would take the stone image, broken arm and all, upon his own back,
and carry it two hundred and sixty miles to Benares, where resided
the high priest of the sect, who would, no doubt, be able to suggest
the proper measures for pacifying the god.

At this time, the only son of his brother, Khushhal Chand, an
interesting little boy of about four years of age, was extremely ill
of the small-pox; and it is a rule with Hindoos never to undertake
any journey, even one of pilgrimage to a holy shrine, while any
member of the family is afflicted with this disease; they must all
sit at home clothed in sackcloth and ashes. He was told that he had
better defer his journey to Benares till the child should recover;
but he could neither sleep nor eat, so great was his terror, lest
some dreadful calamity should befall the whole family before he could
expiate his crime, or take the advice of his high priest as to the
best means of doing it: and he resolved to leave the decision of the
question to God Himself. He took two pieces of paper, and having
caused Benares to be written upon one, and Jubbulpore upon the other,
he put them both into a brass vessel. After shaking the vessel well,
he drew forth that on which Benares had been written. 'It is the will
of God,' said Ram Kishan. All the family, who were interested in the
preservation of the poor boy, implored him not to set out, lest Devi,
who presides over small-pox, should become angry. It was all in vain.
He would set out with his household god; and, unable to carry it
himself, he put it into a small litter upon a pole, and hired a
bearer to carry it at one end, while he supported it at the other.
His brother, Khushhal Chand, sent his second wife at the same time
with offerings for Devi, to ward off the effects of his brother's
rashness from his child. By the time the brother had got with his god
to Adhartal, three miles from Jubbulpore, on the road to Benares, he
heard of the death of his nephew; but he seemed not to feel this
slight blow in his terror of the dreadful but undefined calamity
which he felt to be impending over him and the whole family, and he
trotted on his road. Soon after, an infant son of their uncle died of
the same disease; and the whole town became at once divided into two
parties--those who held that the children had been killed by Devi as
a punishment for Ram Kishan's presuming to leave Jubbulpore before
they recovered; and those who held that they were killed by the god
Vishnu himself, for having been so rudely deprived of one of his
arms. Khushhal Chand's wife sickened on the road, and died on
reaching Mirzapore, of fever; and, as Devi was supposed to have
nothing to do with fevers, this event greatly augmented the advocates
of Vishnu. It is a rule with the Hindoos to bury, and not to burn,
the bodies of those who die of the small-pox; 'for', say they, 'the
small-pox is not only caused by the goddess Devi, but is, in fact,
_Devi herself_', and to burn the body of the person affected with
this disease is, in reality, neither more nor less than _to burn the
goddess_'.

Khushhal Chand was strongly urged to bury, and not burn, his child,
particularly as it was usual with Hindoos to bury infants and
children of that age, of whatever disease they might die; but he
insisted upon having his boy burned with all due pomp and ceremony,
and burned he was accordingly. From that moment, it is said, the
disease began to rage with increased violence throughout the town of
Jubbulpore. At least one-half of the children affected had before
survived; but, from that hour, at least three out of four died; and,
instead of the condolence which he expected from his fellow citizens,
poor Khushhal Chand, a very amiable and worthy man, received nothing
but their execrations for bringing down so many calamities upon their
heads; first, by maltreating his own god, and then by setting fire to
theirs.

I had, a few days after, a visit from Gangadhar Rao, the Sadar Amin,
or head native judicial officer of this district, whose father had
been for a short time the ruler of the district, under the former
government; and I asked him whether the small-pox had diminished in
the town since the rains had now set in. He told me that he thought
it had, but that a great many children had been taken off by the
disease.[12]

'I understand, Rao Sahib, that Khushhal Chand, the banker, is
supposed to have augmented the virulence of the disease by burning
his boy; was it so?'

'Certainly,' said my friend, with a grave, long face; 'the disease
was much increased by this man's folly.' I looked very grave in my
turn, and he continued:- 'Not a child escaped after he had burned his
boy. Such incredible folly! To set fire to the _goddess_ in the midst
of a population of twenty thousand souls; it might have brought
destruction on us all!'

'What makes you think that the disease is itself the goddess?'

'Because we always say, when any member of a family becomes attacked
by the small-pox, "_Devi nikali_", that is, Devi has shown herself in
that family, or in that individual. And the person affected can wear
nothing but plain white clothing, not a silken or coloured garment,
nor an ornament of any kind; nor can he or any of his family
undertake a journey, or participate in any kind of rejoicings, lest
he give offence to her. They broke the arm of their god, and he drove
them all mad.[l3] The elder brother set out on a journey with it, and
his nephew, cousin, and sister-in-law fell victims to his temerity;
and then Khushhal Chand brings down the goddess upon the whole
community by burning his boy![14] No doubt he was very fond of his
child--so we all are--and wished to do him all honour; but some
regard is surely due to the people around us, and I told him so when
he was making preparations for the funeral; but he would not listen
to reason.'

A complicated religious code, like that of the Hindoos, is to the
priest what a complicated civil code, like that of the English, is to
the lawyers. A Hindoo can do nothing without consulting his priest,
and an Englishman can do nothing without consulting his lawyer.

Notes:

1. _Ante_, Chapter 24, following note [4].

2. Sagar was ceded by the Peshwa in 1818, and a yearly sum of two and
a half lakhs of rupees was allotted by Government for pensions to
Rukma Bai, Vinayak Rao, and the other officers of the Maratha
Government. A descendant of Rukma Bai continued for many years to
enjoy a pension of R.10,000 per annum (_C.P. Gazetteer_ (1870), p,
442). The lady referred to in the text seems to be Rukma Bai.

3. A village about twenty miles north-west of Sagar. The estate
consists of twenty-six revenue-free villages.

4. The Jewish ceremonial is described in Leviticus xvi. 20-26. After
completing the atonement for the impurities of the holy place, the
tabernacle, and the altar, Aaron was directed to lay 'his hands upon
the head of the live goat', so putting all the sins of the people
upon the animal, and then to 'send him away by the hand of a fit man
into the wilderness; and the goat shall bear upon him all their
iniquities unto a land not inhabited: and he shall let go the goat in
the wilderness'. The subject of scape-goats is discussed at length
and copiously illustrated by Mr. Frazer in _The Golden Bough_, 1st
ed., vol. ii, section 15, pp. 182-217; 3rd ed. (1913) Part VI. The
author's stories in the text are quoted by Mr. Frazer.

5. During the season of 1816-17 the ravages of the Pindharis were
exceptionally daring and extensive. The Governor-General, the Marquis
of Hastings, organized an army in several divisions to crush the
marauders, and himself joined the central division in October 1817.
The operations were ended by the capture of Asirgarh in March 1819.

6. The people in the Sagar territories used to show several decayed
mango-trees in groves where European troops had encamped during the
campaigns of 1816 and 1817, and declared that they had been seen to
wither from the day that beef for the use of these troops had been
tied to their branches. The only coincidence was in the decay of the
trees, and the encamping of the troops in the groves; that the
withering trees were those to which the beef had been tied was of
course taken for granted. [W. H. S.] The Hindoo veneration for the
cow amounts to a passion, and its intensity is very inadequately
explained by the current utilitarian explanations. The best analysis
of the motives underlying the passionate Hindoo feeling on the
subject is to be found in Mr. William Crooke's article 'The
Veneration of the Cow in India' (_Folklore_, Sept. 1912, pp. 275-
306). In modern times an active, though absolutely hopeless,
agitation has been kept up, directed against the reasonable liberty
of those communities in India who are not members of the Hindoo
system. This agitation for the prohibition of cow-killing has caused
some riots, and has evoked much ill-feeling. The editor had to deal
with it in the Muzaffarnagar district in 1890, and had much trouble
to keep the peace. The local leaders of the movement went so far as
to send telegrams direct to the Government of India. Many other
magistrates have had similar experiences. The authorities take every
precaution to protect Hindoo susceptibilities from needless wounds,
but they are equally bound to defend the lawful liberty of subjects
who are not Hindoos. The Government of the United Provinces on one
occasion yielded to the Hindoo demands so far as to prohibit cow-
killing in at least one town where the practice was not fully
established, but the legality and expediency of such an order are
both open to criticism. The administrative difficulty is much
enhanced by the fact that the Indian Muhammadans profess to be under
a religious obligation to sacrifice cows at the Idul Bakr festival.
Cholera has been known to exist in India at least since the
seventeenth century (Balfour, _Cyclopaedia of India_, 3rd ed. (1885),
s.v.).

7. The cultus of Hardaul is further discussed _post_ in Chapter 31.
In 1875, the editor, who was then employed in the Hamirpur district
of Bundelkhand, published some popular Hindi songs in praise of the
hero, with the following abstract of the _Legend of Hardaul_:
'Hardaul, a son of the famous Bir Singh Deo Bundela of Orchha, was
born at Datiya. His brother, Jhajhar Singh, suspected him of undue
intimacy with his wife, and at a feast poisoned him with all his
followers. After this tragedy, it happened that the daughter of
Kunjavati, the sister of Jhajhar and Hardaul, was about to be
married. Kunjavati accordingly sent an invitation to Jhajhar Singh,
requesting him to attend the wedding. He refused, and mockingly
replied that she had better invite her favourite brother Hardaul.
Thereupon she went in despair to his tomb and lamented aloud. Hardaul
from below answered her cries, and said that he would come to the
wedding and make all arrangements. The ghost kept his promise, and
arranged the nuptials as befitted the honour of his house.
Subsequently, he visited at night the bedside of Akbar, and besought
the emperor to command _chabutras_ to be erected and honour paid to
him in every village throughout the empire, promising that, if he
were duly honoured, a wedding should never be marred by storm or
rain, and that no one who first presented a share of his meal to
Hardaul should ever want for food. Akbar complied with these
requests, and since that time Hardaul's ghost has been worshipped in
every village. He is chiefly honoured at weddings and in Baisakh
(April-May), during which month the women, especially those of the
lower castes, visit his _chabutra_ and eat there. His chabutra is
always built outside the village. On the day but one before the
arrival of a wedding procession, the women of the family worship the
gods and Hardaul, and invite them to the wedding. If any signs of a
storm appears, Hardaul is propitiated with songs '(_J.A.S.B._, vol.
xliv (1875), Part I, p. 389). The belief that Hardaul worship and
cholera had been introduced at the same time prevailed in Hamirpur,
as elsewhere. The _chabutra_ referred to in the above extract is a
small platform built of mud or masonry.

8. The Hyphasis is the Greek name for the river Bias in the Panjab.
Holkar's flight into the Panjab occurred in 1805, and in the same
year the long war with him was terminated by a treaty, much too
favourable to the marauding chief. He became insane a few years
later, and died in 1811.

9. See note 2,_ante_.

10. Narsinghpur and Kandeli are practically one town. The Government
offices and houses of the European residents are in Kandeli, which is
a mile east of Narsinghpur. The original name of Narsinghpur was
Gadaria Khera. The modern name is due to the erection of a large
temple to Narsingha, one of the forms of Vishnu. The district of
Narsinghpur lies in the Nerbudda valley, west and south-west of
Jubbulpore.