Wanderings of a pilgrim in search of the picturesque, Volume 2 (of 2)

1844, Nov. 20th.—To-day the scenery has been most uninteresting; nothing to be seen but sandbanks; the river is full of shallows, and there is no wind. Lugāoed on a fine open space in the middle of the river; it is really a good-sized island of fine and beautifully white sand. Four miles above Dinapūr is the junction of the Soane with the Ganges.

21st.—Sandbanks and shallows the whole day: we have advanced very little, and have moored as usual on a bank. Looking around me, I see nothing but a wilderness of sandbanks in the midst of the broad river, only terminating with the horizon—not a tree, not a house to be seen; here and there a distant sail. There is something very pleasing in this monotonous solitude; the only sound the roar of the sandbanks, as they give way and fall into the stream, with a noise like distant thunder. These high sandbanks are undermined by the strong current, and fall in in great masses—very dangerous to small vessels passing near them.

22nd.—“Twenty-two miles above Dinapūr,” says the “Directory,” “on the left bank, is the Civil station of Chuppra, the capital of the Sarun district. Steamers seldom touch here, even in the rains. Passengers for this place should arrange to land at Revelgunge, above it, where there is a steam agent. The latter place, which is twenty-seven miles by water above Dinapūr, on the left bank, is a very large grain and saltpetre mart, and noted for boat-building. An annual fair is held there. Steamers touch only to land passengers and a few packages to the steam agent’s care. Thence up to Ghazipūr the villagers are said to be uncivil and dishonest.”

We had a view of Chuppra from a distance, and then passed Revelgunge. The tents of a Rāja were pitched on the side of the Ganges, with the khanats extending on both sides into the river to screen the Rāja from the eyes of the curious, as he sat under a shamiyana (awning) in the centre. His camp contained several elephants, one most remarkably large, a number of fine horses and camels, and all the retinue of a wealthy native. Moored a little above Revelgunge.

23rd.—A fair wind. Lugāoed off a small bastī (village).

24th.—A fair wind. Anchored off Bulleah: a large fair was being held there on the banks of the river; we moored two miles away from it, but the din and uproar, even at that distance, was like the sound of waves breaking on a distant shore. I walked to the fair; it was late in the evening, and nothing was to be seen but thousands of people sitting in groups on the ground cooking their dinners, or lying there asleep. Some groups of people were watching the performance of nāch girls, go’ālā log, and dancing boys: every man had a long heavy bamboo in his hand, as a defence, and a walking staff.

The fakīrs had erected altars of mud, on the top of each of which was stuck a long bamboo, decorated with a flag. These holy personages, entirely naked, were sitting on the ground under some freshly-gathered boughs that were stuck up on one side. If one could but learn the real history of one of these men, it would give one a curious insight into human nature. A fakīr of this description is looked upon with respect by the natives; “No one inquires his caste or tribe; he has put on the string, and is therefore a Brahman[47].”

These men sit up all night by a fire, smoking ganja, an intoxicating herb, eating sweetmeats and ghī, and drinking milk. They never put on any sort of clothing, and never sleep under shelter. They say they do not feel the cold, and they eat the offerings that are made to them. They must receive very large sums; the bearers give from one to four paisā to these fellows, and a rich Hindū gives a rupee. Groups of people were sitting together singing and playing on tom-toms; the din was excessive, and the smoke very annoying from the innumerable fires around the pathway. To-morrow will be the last day of the fair.

25th.—From 7 A.M. until 11 o’clock we were striving to get the boats past the fair, which extended for miles along the bank of the river. It being the early morning, the people were bathing by thousands; the bank for miles was covered with moving figures ascending and descending the steep cliff in masses as thick as they could move. The river below was alive with the devout. Hindūs of all and every class were bathing and performing their devotions. The budgerow was stopped some time from the difficulty of passing her gūn, (tracking line,) over the tops of so many high masts; some persons cut the gūn, and they ran away with part of it, which theft detained us some time. The manner in which, by the aid of a bamboo, the tracking rope is carried to the top of a mast and thrown over it, is curious.

By the side of the river I saw several fakīrs bathing; they had thick heads of hair and enormous beards. One man had his hand and arm erect: it was only partly withered, his vow must therefore have been recently made, or the arm would have been withered to the bone and immovably fixed in its position. His body was covered with ashes, and his long elf locks, matted with cow-dung and yellow clay, hung down like so many rusty yellow tails. Hundreds of boats were bringing more people to the fair. The morning being cold, the people, wrapped up in great white sheets, were huddled together in the boats, as many as it was possible to cram together; and at a distance the vessels looked as if they were filled with bales of cotton.

Cows were numerous, and were undergoing the usual pūja. Sometimes a Brahman was seen seated on a charpāī with a chatr over his head, the charpāī supported on four bamboos that were erected in the river, and a fine triangular red flag flying from each end of the four bamboos. The effect was very picturesque: red and also white flags were in profusion, denoting the abiding place of a fakīr. Beauty was extremely scarce amongst the women. Some of the men had fine features—the skin of some of the latter was almost of a transparent black, that of others of a dark brown hue, and some exhibited a bright terra di sienna tint. I saw no lepers, which is remarkable; it is usual to see one of the pink-coloured lepers amongst any great multitude bathing; and that leprosy not being catching, the people are not driven from the society of their fellows, as are those who are afflicted with the Arabian leprosy.

I think the number of people collected at this fair appears greater than the number I ever saw collected at Prāg; the cliff for miles was covered with a countless multitude. Perhaps the people were more conspicuous on the cliffs than on the flat sands at the Tribeni. A number of respectable-looking Hindoo women were in boats covered with an awning. This large native village of Bulleah is seventy-four miles above Dinapūr, on the left bank: it is a dārogah station, noted for the fair annually held there, as also for a grain mart.

This is the most dangerous part of the Ganges for quicksands and shifting banks: the stream is very strong, boats being sometimes detained from four to six weeks, waiting for water and a favourable breeze. The people carry away the Ganges water from this place in sealed bottles, as they do from Prāg, and sell it in distant parts of the country at a high price. We had a hard day’s work tracking amidst the sandbanks against a rapid stream, and did not anchor until the sun had set for an hour and a half, and the full moon was high. I was very glad to see the moon; we were in a dilemma on a bad spot in the river; however, after much labour we got off, and lugāoed on a comfortable sandbank. A large vessel belonging to a Mirzapūr merchant was wrecked here a month ago; I visited the wreck,—they have recovered all but fourteen bales of linen, which they are digging out,—they lie twelve feet under the sand. In the evening the manjhī of my boat was preparing a bamboo to use for pushing the budgerow onwards; I measured it as it lay on the ground; it was sixty feet in length, and most beautifully tapered; he said he had some spare ones on board much longer; for nine of these bamboos he only paid one rupee, and he bought them at the spot where the Bhagirathī branches off from the Ganges. At Prāg such a bamboo would have cost eight ānās. A chaukidār has erected a hut close to the wreck with her fragments; there he and his people keep guard over her; in front is an image of Mahadēo, made in mud, and ornamented with fresh green plantain trees stuck into the sand around the idol.

26th.—Anchored early at Buxar, just under the fort. When walking to see the fort I was attracted to the left by the beauty of a most remarkably fine old peepul-tree, which overshadows a temple dedicated to Mahadēo, whose image is within the building; on the outer wall is an image of Hūnūmān. The temple is beautifully overshadowed, and the stems of the peepul-tree—for it is divided into many—are old and picturesque, and the smallness of the leaves denotes the antiquity of the tree. On the bank of the river there is also an old peepul-tree,—its long branching roots are exposed to view, the river having laid them bare by washing away the bank. Buxar on the right, and Kuruntadee on the left bank, are eighty-eight miles above Dinapūr, and are noted as being the Honourable Company’s stud establishment: there is a small fort here where the battle was fought.

27th.—Quitted Buxar early, and were forced to anchor for a time at Chounsah Beerboom, on account of a very heavy wind, which made old Gunga rise in waves, and rocked the budgerow like a sea: started at 4 P.M. and arrived at the Kurum-nassa river; it is a shallow, melancholy-looking, small stream, with nothing to be seen on its banks but fishermen’s nets. Hilsā fish are here caught in great numbers, and the rahū also; I purchased one of the latter, and some quail, which were twenty-five per rupee.

Lugāoed at Barrah, a small village on the right bank: climbed the cliff in the evening; a fisherman who resided there showed me two satī mounds on the top of it,—the one built of stone sacred to a Brahmān, the other of mud in honour of a Kyiatt. A kalsā is the ornament on the top of a dome; there were two of stone, without any points on the satī mound of the Brahmān; and two of mud, decorated with points, and one small image, on that of the Kyiatt[48].

I gave a small present to the people, and took away one of the kalsās of mud as a curiosity: a number of broken idols in black stone had been dug up, and placed on the satī mound of the Brahmān,—I was anxious to have two of them, and determined to ask the fisherman to give them to me. The old man told me with great pride that one of his family had been a satī, and that the Brahmāns complained greatly they were not allowed to burn the widows, as such disconsolate damsels were ready and willing to be grilled; he told me that a great number of mounds are on the left bank of the river, just opposite at Beerpūr, and that there are several about two miles higher up the stream.

The Brahmānī ducks are calling to one another from the opposite banks of the river,—there must be several pairs of them from the ā’o! ā’o! that I hear; this is only the second time during this voyage that I have heard the chakwā. The wind is down, there is a soft and brilliant moonlight,—the weather is really charming, and the moonlight nights delicious; from the high bank by the satīs one can see the stream of the Ganges below, glittering in its beams.

“Eight miles above Buxar, on the right bank of the river, is the junction of the Kurum-nassa: the touch of its waters is considered as one of the direst mishaps that can happen to a Hindū, as it is said it debars him admittance into heaven. There is a bridge over it, built by a Rajah; this part of the country is noted for decoits.” The bridge, which is some distance up the river, is not visible from the junction.

Ten P.M.; I have just returned from the satī mound, accompanied by the old fisherman, who brought with him two of the idols of black stone from the Brahmān’s mound, on which there were about twenty; the old man gave them to me the moment I asked for them; I gave him a present afterwards, therefore he did not sell his gods; but he requested to be allowed to bring them to the boats during the darkness of the night. He and his family are now the sole inhabitants of a little hamlet of five houses, which was formerly inhabited by himself and his four brothers; they are dead, and their houses, which are in ruins, are close to the mounds; the old man lives in the centre, with one young son and two daughters, and keeps his dwelling of mud in comfortable condition. They tell me fowls and chakor (the red-legged partridge) are abundant there; I was unable to procure the latter.

29th.—Stopped the budgerow for a few minutes off the ruins of the palace of the Nawāb of Ghazipūr. The fort-like bastions rise from the Ganges, and the palace is built above; the ghāt is of stone, wide and good: this ruined palace has been before described in this volume, page 66. The native town of Ghazipūr is full of picturesque beauty; the mut’hs are numerous, but their architectural beauty is disfigured by whitewash and edges of dark red paint. There is a gigantic image in mud smeared with paint, which lies upon its back close to the water’s edge, and has a curious effect: a little further on an old well has fallen into the river, on account of the high cliff within which it was sunk having been washed away; the cliff, which is of sand, and very high, is covered with native houses, small temples, and trees, from the top to the bottom.

THREE SATĪS AND A MANDAP NEAR GHAZIPŪR.

Lugāoed close to a small and very pretty mandap or Hindū temple. I went up to see it; the Brahmān opened the door, and showed me his idols with much pleasure. They consisted of Seeta, Rām, and Lutchman, painted red, and decked with bits of gold and silver tinsel, and pieces of coloured cloth. Hūnoomān was displayed on the wall painted red, and decked also with red linen. The Brahmān gave me a ball of sweetmeat, which he said was the usual offering at the shrine. Two fine peepul-trees, which had been planted together, are on the high bank above the temple, and within their shade are three satīs, built of stone, of octagonal form, and surmounted by a dome: the point of the dome is ornamented with a kalsā formed like a crown with a hole in the centre, and on each of its points or horns, on certain days, a lighted lamp is placed. The cenotaph is hollow below; and there is a little arch, through which the relatives also on particular days place a small lamp, and offerings of flowers within the cavity of the little building, and in the same place the two sīr are deposited. The kalsās differ in form from those at Barrah; and the satīs are also of higher caste, being of stone and well built. If the moon rise in time, I will sketch the spot, but I am very much fatigued, and my head aches, not only from exposure to the sun, but from a blow I received upon it from the tracking rope this morning. The insects do not molest us now at night, with the exception of the musquitoes, which are very troublesome.

On the rising of the moon I went on shore to take the sketch, and was attracted by what appeared to be the figure of a man watching from under a tree on a high cliff. On going up to it I found a satī, which had fallen to ruin; the remains were whitewashed, and a large kalsā had been placed on the top, which being also whitewashed, at a distance produced the deception. See fig. 2, which is a sketch of this kalsā; the satī herself, partially wrapped in her sarī, is seated upon it; it is adorned with points, and made of mud. I brought the kalsā away with me; it will be replaced by the kumhār, or potter of the village, whose duty it is to restore all kalsās. On the other side of the old tree was another satī mound, and small lotās, earthen drinking vessels, were hung around the tree to receive the offerings of the devout. I had the curiosity to put my hand into one of them, and found one betel-nut which had been placed there as an offering. Peeping over a high bank, I saw an open space of ground, on which were some fine trees, and I could scarcely believe the number of mounds that met my eye were those of victimized women. By a little détour I found the entrance to this place of cenotaphs, and was shocked on counting eight-and-twenty satīs. I was alone; had a Hindū been with me, he would have made salām to each of them.

One was large and somewhat in the shape of a grave, after the form of the satī of the Brahmān at Barrah. The others were of various forms; the richer ones were of stone, of an octagonal shape, and surmounted by a dome; some were so small and low, they were not higher than one foot from the earth, like a little ant hill, but ornamented with a kalsā, which quite covered the little mound. Those of stone were from six to eight feet high, and of various forms. There is a hollow space within the satī, into which, through the little arch, the offerings are placed; and there also are deposited the two sīr, as they call them, which are made of stone, and are like a cannon ball split in halves. See the plate of the kalsās, fig. 1. One very old satī tomb, in ruins, stood on the edge of the high cliff above the river, shaded by a clump of bamboos. The spot interested me extremely. It is very horrible to see how the weaker are imposed upon; and it is the same all over the world, civilized or uncivilized—perhaps some of these young married women, from eleven to twenty years of age, were burnt alive, in all the freshness of youth; it may be with the corpse of some decrepit sickly old wretch to whom their parents had given them in marriage.

The laws of England relative to married women, and the state of slavery to which those laws degrade them, render the lives of some few in the higher, and of thousands in the lower ranks of life, one perpetual satī, or burning of the heart, from which they have no refuge but the grave, or the cap of liberty,—i.e. the widow’s, and either is a sad consolation.

“It is this passive state of suffering which is most difficult to endure, and which it is generally the fate of women to experience. It is too commonly their lot to be deceived into a belief, that as they are the gentler sex, so they ought to be the weakest. Alas, it is far otherwise; the soldier covered with wounds of glory, the mariner warring with the elements, the sage consuming his strength with the midnight oil, or the bigot wearing life away with fanatical zeal in false devotion, require not the unshrinking firmness, the never-failing patience, the unbending fortitude which is expected from almost every woman.”

The river has encroached so much upon the cliff, and so much ground has fallen in, that, probably, the place of the satīs was of much larger extent; next year, most likely, those that are now tottering on the edge of the cliff will fall into the depth below. From this place I returned to the mandap, and sketched the satīs I had first seen. Their kalsās had figures upon them, meant to represent the husband and wife; I brought three of these ornaments away,—they have received all the honours; their foreheads have been marked with red paint, lamps have been lighted and placed upon their points, and offerings have been laid before them. Pretty well fagged with my moonlight expedition, I returned to the boats and slept quietly,—a great blessing.

30th.—Quitted the satī ground, and came up to the Cantonment ghāt just below the tomb of the Marquis Cornwallis. We are now in the north-western provinces, in which my husband holds his appointment under the Lieutenant-Governor of Agra, and have announced our arrival in due form.

The Civil and Military station of Ghazipūr is one hundred and nineteen miles above Dinapūr, or thirty-one miles above Buxar on the left bank of the river. The native town is built on precipices; the European inhabitants reside on a large plain about the centre of the station; the cantonments form the upper part, and the European hospital is at the other extreme. Between the Civil and Military lines are the chapel and the tomb. It is noted for its opium manufactory, and Government stud establishment, where horses can be purchased, as also for its rose-water, atr of roses, and other perfumed oils. Provisions of all sorts may be purchased here, also European articles and millinery. Its distance from Calcutta, viâ Bhagirathī, is six hundred and twenty-seven miles, viâ Sunderbunds nine hundred and fifteen, and by land four hundred and thirty-one. The dāk runs in four days—steamer’s passage, from seventeen to twenty days: they remain here for passengers, cargo, and coal. Passengers for Ghoruckpūr should land here. This is the lower extreme of the North-Western Provinces, or Agra Presidency, and is a great place of trade; it is also the lowest station for the Agra flat-boats. Kankarī banks, a sort of stony gravel, commence here, and run hence upwards. At this station we purchased game; a man came to our boats, and offered two wild geese and three wild ducks for sale; he carried a long native matchlock, and led a cow by a string; this cow he used as a stalking horse, the birds being so shy it would otherwise be impossible to get within shot distance.

Dec. 1st.—A good day, having had but little contrary wind; lugāoed off Booraneepūr. On the edge of the high cliff stood a little temple and a large peepul-tree, very picturesque, which induced me to climb the rough kankarī bank, and to find my way to the temple through a deserted village; there were a great number of ruined huts, and very few inhabitants; the village dogs barked most fiercely at a distance, and skulked away at my approach. This is the fall of the leaf, and the large peepul-tree was nearly leafless, which showed off its long and peculiar branches; one branch, at the height of about eight feet from the ground, stretched out in a horizontal direction to the length of sixty feet: although it is now winter for the peepul, in three weeks more it will be covered with fresh green leaves. At the foot of the tree was a large satī mound of mud; it was so much neglected that no pious hand had placed even a kalsā on the top, and not a flower had been offered there, nor a lamp burned in pūja. A little Hindoo temple of octagonal form stood on the extreme edge of the cliff, some fragments of idols were placed against its side; no Brahmān was there, and the place looked cold and desolate; a young banyan tree formed the background, and the Ganges spread its broad waters to the far horizon.

The “Directory” says,—“Eight miles above Ghazipūr is the dangerous kankār reef that strikes directly across the river. Twenty-three miles above Ghazipūr is Chochookpore stone ghāt and temple, noted for the numerous monkeys that resort there. Two miles above Chochookpore, on the right bank of the river, is the sunken rock, opposite to a palm-tree just below Sanotie.” All the difficulties and dangers, monkeys and all, we have passed to-day, without being conscious of their existence; the monkeys and temples I was sorry I did not see,—we passed without observing them. The river has been very uninteresting, nothing to look at, and very few vessels: moored on a most solitary and insulated sandbank.

“Thirty miles above Ghazipūr by Kucharee, on the left bank, is a difficult channel with a dangerous sunken reef. Six miles above it is Seydpūr, a large native town, with a tahsīldār and a dārogha: and two miles above Seydpūr is the junction of the Goomtie river, that goes up to Lucnow, said to be a very intricate and rocky stream, too shallow for the smallest boats in the dry season. The Ganges, from above Kucharee reef, past Seydpūr, up to the Goomtie, a distance of eight miles, is a very difficult passage, with various bad patches of kankar rock, on which native boats and budgerows split instantaneously.

“Five miles above the Goomtie is Chandroutī, with a white temple. In mid-channel is a very dangerous pakka platform, on kankar, with the ruins of an old temple on it, and no passable channel on its north-west or Zinhore side, and very dangerous for downward-bound boats, as the current sets directly upon it.” At Seydpūr is a very elaborately carved mandap or Hindū temple, of elegant form.

FUNERAL RITES.—BURNING THE DEAD.

As our boats passed slowly along, we had an opportunity of witnessing the funeral rites of the Hindūs: the burning of a corpse was being performed just at the base of the cliff on the edge of the river. The nearest relative, as is the custom, was stirring up the body, and pushing it well into the flames with a long pole: much oil and ghī must have been expended and poured over the wood, as it burnt fiercely. The face of the corpse looked cold and pale and fixed, as the wind blew aside the flames and smoke, and enabled me to behold a scene that shocked me: in all probability the son was performing the ceremony. We read of the Romans burning their dead, regard it in a classical light, and think of it without disgust,—but when you see the ceremony really performed it is very painful: nevertheless, a sort of absurdity was mixed with it in my mind, as “stir him up with the long pole” flashed across my memory. A group of relatives were sitting by the river-side, watching the ceremony; on its conclusion they will bathe and return to their homes.

The kapāl-krīyā, a ceremony among Hindūs, is, that when a dead body is burning, and nearly reduced to ashes, the nearest relation breaks the skull with the stroke of a bamboo, and pours ghī (clarified butter) into the cavity. Hence kapāl-krīyā karna, to think intensely, to beat or cudgel one’s brains.

The charpāī on which the corpse had been carried, being reckoned unclean, had been thrown into the river, and the broken lota that had contained ghī was at its side. The scene was reflected in the Ganges. From the quantity of wood and ghī consumed the departed must have been a rich man: the relatives of the very poor scarcely do more than scorch the body, and throw it into the river, where it floats swollen and scorched—a horrible sight.

“The burning of the body is one of the first ceremonies the Hindūs perform for the help of the dead in a future state. If this ceremony have not been attended to, the rites for the repose of the soul cannot be performed. If a person be unable to provide wood, cloth, clarified butter, rice, water-pans, and other things, besides the fee for the priest, he must beg among his neighbours. If the body be thrown into the river, or burnt, without the accustomed ceremonies, as is sometimes the case, the ceremonies may be performed over an image of the deceased made of kooshŭ grass. Immediately after death the attendants lay out the body on a sheet, placing two pieces of wood under the head and feet; after which they anoint the corpse with clarified butter, bathe it with the water of the Ganges, put round the loins a new garment, and another over the left shoulder, and then draw the sheet on which the body lies over the whole. The heir-at-law next bathes himself, puts on new garments, and boils some rice, a ball of which and a lighted brand he puts to the mouth of the deceased, repeating incantations. The pile having been prepared he sets fire to it, and occasionally throws on it clarified butter and other combustibles. When the body is consumed he washes the ashes into the river; the attendants bathe, and presenting a drink-offering to the deceased, return home: before they enter the house, however, each one touches fire and chews some bitter leaves, to signify that parting with relations by death is an unpleasant task.”

The rites for the repose of the soul, the offerings made in a person’s name after his decease, and the ceremonies which take place on the occasion, are called his shraddhŭ; which the Hindūs are very anxious to perform in a becoming manner. The son who performs these rites obtains great merit; the deceased is satisfied, and by gifts to the Brahmāns in his name he obtains heaven.

The Hindū shastrŭs teach that after death the soul becomes prétŭ, a departed ghost,—namely, takes a body about the size of a person’s thumb, and remains in the custody of Yŭmŭ, the judge of the dead. At the time of receiving punishment the body becomes enlarged, and is made capable of enduring sorrow. The performance of the rites for the repose of the soul, delivers the deceased at the end of a year from this state, and translates him to the heaven of the Pitrees, where he enjoys the reward of his meritorious actions, and afterwards in another body, enters into that state which the nature of his former actions assign to him. If the shraddhŭ be not performed the deceased remains in the prétŭ state, and cannot enter another body.

There are three shraddhŭs for the dead: one, eleven days after the death; another, every month; and another, at the close of a year after a person’s decease. During the ten days of mourning the relatives hold a family council, and consult on the means of performing the shraddhŭ; on the last of these days, after making an offering for the dead by the side of the river, they are shaved. On the next day after the performance of numerous ceremonies, and offerings made to the priests, the son goes into the house, and placing a Brahmān and his wife on a seat, covers them with ornaments, worships them, and adding a large present of money, dismisses them. After this the son of the deceased requests five Brahmāns to offer a male calf, in doing which they take two cloths each, four poitas, four betel-nuts, and some kourees, and go with the company to a spot where an altar has been prepared, one cubit high, and four cubits square. Four of the Brahmāns sit on the four sides of the altar, and there worship certain gods, and offer a burnt sacrifice. Near the altar are placed the shalgramŭ, four female calves, a male calf, and a vilwŭ post. The fifth Brahmān reads a portion of a poorană, to drive away evil spirits. The female calves are tied to four vilwŭ posts, and the male calf to a post called vrishŭ post. To the necks of the cow-calves four small slender baskets are suspended, in which are placed, among other things, a comb, and the iron instrument with which Hindū women blacken their eyelids. A sheet of metal is placed under the belly of the bull-calf,—on the back a sheet of copper: the hoofs are covered with silver, and the horns with gold, if the shraddhŭ be performed by a rich man. On the hips of the bull-calf marks of Shivŭ’s trident are impressed with a hot iron. After this the son of the deceased washes the tail of the bull-calf, and with the same water presents a drink-offering to his deceased ancestors: and afterwards marries the bull-calf to the four cow-calves, repeating many formulas, in which they are recommended to cultivate love and mutual sympathy. The son next liberates the cow-calves, forbidding any one to detain them, or partake of their milk in future. In liberating the male calf, he says, “I have given thee these four wives, live with them! Thou art the living image of Yŭmŭ; thou goest upon four legs. Devour not the corn of others, &c.” The cow-calves are generally taken by Brahmāns, the bull-calf is let loose, to go where he pleases: these bulls wander about, and are treated by the Hindūs with great respect; no one can claim any redress for the injury they do, and no Hindū dare destroy them. The English call them “Brahmanī bulls.” There are various other rites too numerous to detail, and the sums are enormous which at times are spent on the shraddhŭ.

The funeral rites of the Romans and those of the Hindūs are not very dissimilar. The Romans paid the greatest attention to them, because they believed that the souls of the unburied were not admitted into the abodes of the dead; or at least wandered a hundred years along the river Styx, before they were allowed to cross it; for which reason, if the bodies of their friends could not be found, they erected to them an empty tomb (cenotaphium), at which they performed the usual solemnities; and to want the due rites was esteemed the greatest misfortune. The nearest relation closed the eyes and mouth of the deceased, and when the eyes were closed they called upon the deceased by name several times at intervals: the corpse was then laid on the ground, bathed, and anointed with perfumes. The body, dressed in the best attire which the deceased had worn when alive, was laid on a couch in the vestibule, with the feet outwards; the couch was sometimes decked with leaves and flowers. A small coin (triens vel obolus) was put in his mouth, which he might give to Charon for his freight. The Romans at first usually interred their dead, which is the most ancient and most natural method. They early adopted the custom of burning (cremandi vel comburendi) from the Greeks, which is mentioned in the laws of Numa, and of the twelve tables, but it did not become general till towards the end of the republic. Numa forbade his own body to be burned, according to the custom of the Romans, but he ordered it to be buried near Mount Janiculum, with many of the books which he had written. Sylla was the first of the Patrician branch of the gens Cornelia that was burnt; which is supposed to have been in accordance with his wishes; for, having ordered the remains of Marius to be taken out of his grave, and thrown into the river Anio, he was apprehensive of the same insult. Sylla died A.D. 78. Pliny ascribes the first institution of burning among the Romans to their having discovered that the bodies of those who fell in distant wars were dug up by the enemy. Under the emperors it became almost universal, but was afterwards gradually dropped upon the introduction of Christianity, so that it had fallen into disuse about the end of the fourth century. On the day of the funeral, when the people were assembled, the body was carried out with the feet foremost on a couch, covered with rich cloth, and supported commonly on the shoulders of the nearest relations of the deceased or of his heirs. Poor citizens were carried to the funeral pile in a plain bier or coffin, usually by four bearers: the funeral couches were sometimes open and sometimes covered. Torches were used both at funerals and marriages. The funeral procession was regulated by a person called Designator, attended by lictors, dressed in black, with their fasces inverted; sometimes, also, by the officers and troops, with their spears pointing to the ground. First, went musicians of various kinds,—then, mourning women, hired to lament and sing the funeral song; next came players and buffoons, who danced and sang; one of them, called Archimimus, supported the character of the deceased, imitating his words and actions while alive; then followed the freedmen. Before the corpse were carried images of the deceased, and of his ancestors, on long poles or frames, but not of such as had been condemned for any heinous crime, whose images were broken. Behind the corpse walked the friends of the deceased in mourning,—his sons with their heads veiled, and his daughters with their heads bare, and their hair dishevelled, contrary to the ordinary custom of both; the magistrates without their badges, the nobility without their ornaments. The nearest relations sometimes tore their garments, and covered their hair with dust, or pulled it out; the women, in particular, who attended the funeral, beat their breasts and tore their cheeks, although this was forbidden by the twelve tables. At the funeral of an illustrious citizen the corpse was carried through the forum, where the procession stopped, and a funeral oration (laudatio) was delivered in praise of the deceased from the rostra, by his son, or by some near relation or friend. The honour of a funeral oration was decreed also to women, old or young, married or unmarried. From the forum the corpse was carried to the place of burning or burial, which the law of the twelve tables ordered to be without the city,—Hominem mortuum in urbe ne sepelito, neve urito,—according to the customs of other nations; the Jews, the Athenians, and others. The Romans prohibited burning or burying in the city, both from sacred and civil considerations, and that the air might not be infected. The vestal virgins were buried in the city, and some illustrious men, which right their posterity retained, but did not use.

The funeral pile (rogus vel pyra) was built in the form of an altar, with four equal sides; hence called ara sepulchri, funeris ara, of wood which might easily catch fire, as fir, pine, cleft oak, unpolished, according to the law of the twelve tables, rogum ascia ne polito, but not always so; also stuffed with paper and pitch, made higher or lower according to the rank of the deceased (hence rogus plebeius), with cypress-trees set around to prevent the noisome smell, and at the distance of sixty feet from any house. On the funeral pile was placed the corpse, with the couch; the eyes of the deceased were opened; the nearest relations kissed the body with tears, and then set fire to the pile with a lighted torch, turning away their faces (aversi) to show that they did it with reluctance. They prayed for a wind to assist the flames, as the Greeks did, and when that happened it was thought fortunate. They threw into the fire various perfumes (odores), incense, myrrh, cassia, &c.; also cups of oil and dishes (dapes vel fercula), with titles marking what they contained: likewise the clothes and ornaments, not only of the deceased, but their own; every thing, in short, that was supposed to be agreeable to the deceased while alive; all these were called munera vel dona. If the deceased had been a soldier, they threw on the pile his arms, rewards, and spoils. At the funeral of an illustrious commander the soldiers made a circuit (decurrebant) three times round the pile, from right to left (orbe sinistro), with their ensigns inverted, and striking their weapons on one another to the sound of the trumpet, all present accompanying them, as at the funeral of Sylla, and of Augustus, which custom seems to have been borrowed from the Greeks, was used also by the Carthaginians, and was sometimes repeated annually at the tomb. As the manes were supposed to be delighted with blood, various animals, especially such as the deceased had been fond of, were slaughtered at the pile, and thrown into it; in ancient times, also men, captives, or slaves, to which Cicero alludes. Afterwards instead of them, gladiators, called bustuarii, were made to fight; so amongst the Gauls, slaves and clients were burnt on the piles of their masters; among the Indians and Thracians, wives on the piles of their husbands: thus also, among the Romans, friends testified their affection; as Plotinus to his patron, Plautius to his wife Orestilla, soldiers to Otho, Mnester, a freed-man, to Agrippina.

Instances are recorded of persons who came to life again on the funeral pile after it had been set on fire, so that it was too late to rescue them; and of others, who having revived before the pile was kindled, returned home on their feet. When the pile was burnt down, the fire was extinguished, and the embers soaked with wine; the bones were gathered (ossa legebantur) by the nearest relations, with loose robes, and sometimes barefooted. We also read of the nearest female relations who were called funeræ vel funereæ, gathering the bones in their bosom.

The bones and ashes, besprinkled with the richest perfumes, were put into a vessel called urna, an urn, made of earth, brass, marble, silver, or gold. Sometimes, also, a small glass vial full of tears, called by the moderns a lachrymatory, was put in the urn, and the latter was solemnly deposited in the sepulchre.

When the body was not burnt, it was put into a coffin (arca vel loculus) with all its ornaments, usually made of stone, as that of Numa, so of Hannibal; sometimes of Assian stone, from Asses, or -us, a town in Troas or Mysia, which consumed the body in forty days, except the teeth, hence called sarcophagus, which word is also put for any coffin or tomb. The coffin was laid in the tomb on its back; in what direction among the Romans is uncertain; but among the Athenians, looking to the west. When the remains of the deceased were laid in the tomb, those present were three times sprinkled by a priest with pure water (aqua pura vel lustralis), from a branch of olive or laurel (aspergillum), to purify them. Then they were dismissed by the præfica, or some other person, pronouncing the solemn word ilicet, i.e. ire licet, you may depart. At their departure, they used to take a last farewell, by repeating several times vale, or salve æternùm; adding, nos te ordine, qua natura permiserit, cuncti sequemur. The friends, when they returned home, as a further purification, after being sprinkled with water, stepped over a fire (ignem supergrediebantur), which was called suffitio. The house itself was also purified, and swept with a certain kind of broom. There were certain ceremonies for the purification of the family, when they buried a thumb, or some part cut off from the body before it was burnt, or a bone brought home from the funeral pile, on which occasion a soldier might be absent from duty. On the ninth day after the funeral, a sacrifice was performed, called novendiale, with which these solemnities were concluded.

Oblations or sacrifices to the dead (inferiæ, vel parentalia,) were afterwards made at various times, both occasionally and at stated periods, consisting of liquors, victims, and garlands; these oblations were to appease;—to revenge, an atonement was made to their ghosts.

The sepulchre was then bespread with flowers, and covered with crowns and fillets: before it, there was a little altar, on which libations were made, and incense burnt, and a keeper was appointed to watch the tomb, which was frequently illuminated with lamps. A feast was added, called silicernium, both for the dead and the living. Certain things were laid on the tomb, commonly beans, lettuces, bread, and eggs, or the like, which it was supposed the ghosts would come and eat; hence cœna feralis; what remained was burnt; for it was thought mean to take away any thing thus consecrated, or what was thrown into the funeral pile. The Romans commonly built tombs for themselves during their lifetime; if they did not live to finish them, it was done by their heirs, who were often ordered by the testament to build a tomb. The highest honours were decreed to illustrious persons after death. The Romans worshipped their founder Romulus as a god, under the name of Quirinus. Hence afterwards the solemn consecration of the emperors, by a decree of the senate, who were thus said to be ranked in the number of the gods, also of some empresses: temples and priests were assigned to them—they were invoked with prayers—men swore by their name or genius, and offered victims on their altars.

The entrance to the Goomtie river is very narrow, and a bridge of sixteen boats is placed across it. At Chandroutī is a white temple much carved—the platform in the centre of the stream stands out about two feet high—a bamboo was stuck upon it, and several birds were perched on the stones. The ruins of the temple must have fallen into the river I suppose, as no ruins are there, only a very few stones:—this is to be lamented. It must have been very picturesque, and it also must have pointed out the dangerous spot to vessels. The navigation is perplexing, but we came through it without any mischance, and, after a great deal of annoyance, anchored at 10 P.M. off a village; our time to lugāo the boats has usually been four hours earlier. The Hindūs, who have had no dinner to-day, must be sick and weary; we could not get to the bank, on account of the shallowness of the water until this hour. The Musalmān crew of the budgerow cook and eat on board; the crews of the woolāk and cook-boat, being Hindūs, cook and eat on the river-side, that they may not defile the sacred Gunga.

If you lugāo near a village the chaukidārs come down and guard your boats; if you anchor on a sandbank you guard your own boats, and are generally distant from robbers; nevertheless, care is required through the night, and a watch should be set on each vessel during the dark hours.

Five miles above Chandroutī is Bullooah ghāt and ferry on the right bank,—the banks are formed of kankar rock. Exactly opposite the ferry, the budgerow struck on a sunken bank, which was very deep in the water; we were detained upwards of two hours ere she could be got off; the rudder was unshipped by the manjhī, and after great labour we were once again afloat, without having sustained much damage. The river is very shallow, and to find the deep stream is difficult in a budgerow.

“Fifty miles above Ghazipūr, or eight above Bullooah ghāt, on the right bank of the river, is Kye, and its sunken kankar reef—scarcely avoidable in some dry seasons. Thence due west over the right bank you may observe the Benares minarets—distant nine miles.” A little wind aided us, and we lugāoed at 6 P.M. at Rāj ghāt, Benares. A number of temples and tombs, with the minarets beyond, looked well in the distance as we approached; but the smoke of the evening fires on the bank, and the red glare of the setting sun, rendered all objects indistinct. I walked to see a tomb on the top of the high cliff a little below Rāj ghāt; it is enclosed by stone walls in a garden, and is a handsome monument; many tombs are on the outside by the ravine. It is a very picturesque spot. Thus closed the evening at Rāj ghāt.