BOOK IV.

GHAUT MURDERS.

CHAP. I.

Origin, nature, atrocity, and appalling scenes connected with the practice of exposing the sick on the banks of the Ganges.

The exposure of the sick on the banks of the Ganges has been termed Ghaut Murder. A Ghaut is a flight of steps to a river, and at these places the acts of cruelty to the sick, described in this book, are generally perpetrated. The origin of this practice is probably to be traced to the absurd notion that the river Ganges is a goddess, and that to die in sight of it is beneficial. A Correspondent, who has resided several years in India, writes upon this subject: The origin of this practice is involved in great obscurity; but one or all of the following reasons may be assigned for its continuance. The veneration paid to the rivers. The rivers of India, like the Euphrates and the Nile, annually overflow their banks. The inundation continues for a considerable time, and covers the country; and its benefits are very numerous; the fields are covered with verdure, the soil is enriched, and vegetation proceeds with rapidity. Hence has arisen that idolatrous worship which has been paid to them; indeed the most extravagant and puerile rites are performed in the sultry plains of India, in honour of rivers; and the advantages supposed to arise from them are equally absurd. He that bathes in the morning, in the months of Magha, Voishakha, and Karteka,

destroys the greatest sins. He who at the conjunctions of Naryunee bathes in silence, in the Koorootaya river, raises thirty millions of his ancestors to eternal bliss. The wish to get rid of a burthen is another reason. There is no public provision made for the old or infirm. All who are past labour become immediately dependent upon their relatives; and the consideration of the expense may possibly make them wish to rid themselves of an encumbrance; especially when it can be done in a way which, instead of appearing dishonourable or any proof of want of affection, is rather considered an act of kindness. It may also be encouraged by the doctrine of fate, which has generally prevailed in the Heathen world. Their gods, the general dispensations of Providence, and their private affairs, are all considered under the control of the iron-hand of necessity or gloomy fate, which, while it showers down upon earth calamities in abundance, cuts off every hope and every effort for the attainment of deliverance. Believing that every person's kopol (fate) is fixed by an unchangeable decree, they avoid using those means which a Being of infinite goodness has put into our hands for the recovery of the afflicted."

The nature of this cruel rite will best appear in the descriptions given of it by different writers, and eye-witnesses. "The Bengalee Hindoos," says Hamilton, "have generally a great terror of the dead, and will seldom venture to inhabit a hut or a house where a person has died. This seems connected with their custom of exposing the sick to perish on the banks of rivers; which tends to aggravate the last pangs of nature, and sometimes not only accelerates death, but exhausts that strength which might probably have enabled nature to overcome the disease. The practice also furnishes an opportunity of practising other horrid crimes."*

The late Rev. W. Ward, in his "View of the History, Literature, and Mythology of the Hindoos," states, "Thousands, yea millions, of people, are annually drawn from their houses and peaceful labours, several times in the year, to visit different holy places, at great expense of time and money, spent in making offerings to the goddess (Gunga). Expensive journeys are undertaken by multitudes to obtain the water of this river, or to carry the sick, the dying, the

* Description of Hindostan, vol. i. p. 111.

dead, or the bones of the dead, to its banks.*

What the

sick and dying suffer by being exposed to all kinds of weather in the open air on the banks of the river, and in being choked by the sacred waters in their last moments, is beyond expression." "A few years since a Rajah, living about 100 miles from Calcutta, sent for an English physician from that city. By the time that gentleman had arrived, his relations had brought the sick Rajah to the river-side, and in a short period, no doubt, would have killed him. The physician reproved them for their want of feeling, and ordered his patient to be carried home, where, in a few days, he recovered. Before the physician took his leave, he made the Rajah promise to give him the earliest information if he should be sick again. Soon afterwards, the disease having returned, he sent for his old friend; but, before he could arrive, his relations had despatched him with the mud and water of the sacred stream! want of compassion and tenderness among the Hindoos towards the poor, the sick, and the dying, is so notorious, that European travellers are frequently filled with horror at the proofs of their inhumanity, merely as they pass along the roads or navigate the rivers in this country."+

The

Dr. Johns, in his Pamphlet entitled "Facts and Opinions relative to the Burning of Widows, and other destructive Customs in British India" (Gale, London), refers to the practice of "Exposing the Sick and Aged." "The Hindoo character is in many essential points defective, and led by deep-rooted prejudices, and barbarous customs, to the commission of crimes which ought not to be sanctioned by any moral or religious code. How often is the aged Hindoo parent deemed an encumbrance and an unnecessary expense by his family; and carried a living victim, devoted to die on the margin of the Ganges, or some other holy stream: there his own children fill his mouth and nostrils with mud; and, thus cutting off every prospect of recovery, they leave the author of their being to be carried away by the stream, as food for alligators and vultures! Although sanctioned by the Brahmuns, and perhaps sometimes voluntary on the part of the aged victim, no religion

* And yet "the broad stream sweeps by them guiltless of their impiety, and unconscious of their homage.” Heber's Journ., vol. ii.

p. 297.

AUTH.

should tolerate such a sacrifice; that it is not always voluntary we have many undeniable proofs. The fatal consequence of not submitting to this extraordinary viaticum, or of eluding its effect, by returning to his family in case of a rescue or recovery, is so provided for, by the brahminical laws, that death is far more desirable than the continuance of life on such terms. Many instances might be produced to confirm this assertion: I shall recite what Captain Williamson, in his East India Vade Mecum,' from more experience than myself, has recorded on this subject. Many Hindoos in their old age, or when seriously ill, are removed to the banks of the Ganges, whose waters are held sacred: and, when about to resign their breath, are taken to the edge of the river on their beds; where a Brahmun attends to perform the religious ceremonies. No doubt many, who might recover, are thus consigned to premature death. The damp borders of the stream, with a burning sun, rarely fail, however favourable the season may be, to put a speedy termination to the sick person's sufferings; but it has often happened that the attendants become tired by the delay the poor wretch makes in shaking off his mortal coil, and, perhaps with the humane intention of finishing his pain, either place the bed at low-water mark, if the spot be within flow of the tide, or smear the dying man with the slime of the holy waters, and fill his mouth with the precious mud. When a person has been taken to the side of the Ganges, or other substituted waters, under the supposition that he is dying, he is in the eye of the Hindoo law dead; his property passes to his heir, or according to his bequest; and, in the event of a recovery, the poor fellow becomes an outcast. Not a soul, even of his own children, will eat with him, or afford him the least accommodation; if by chance they come in contact, ablution must follow. The wretched survivor from that time is held in abhorrence, and has no other resort but to associate himself in a village inhabited by persons under similar circumstances. There are but few such receptacles; the largest and most conspicuous is on the banks of the Smillah, which passes near Sooksaugur, about forty miles north of Calcutta.'"*

The late Rev. D. Brown of Calcutta, speaking of sick persons who are left on the banks of the Ganges, says,— They are swept away by the returning tide. Some, how

66

* Oriental Memoirs, vol. i. p. 220, 221.

ever, escape; and, as they can never be received again by their families, they associate with those who, like them, have escaped the jaws of death. There are two villages not far up the river Hooghly inhabited solely by these wretched fugitives. A gentleman told me, as he passed a place called Culna, a little above Calcutta, that he saw a set of Brahmuns pushing a youth, of about eighteen years of age, into the water; and, as they were performing their work of suffocation with mud, he called on them to desist. They answered calmly, It is our custom. It is our custom. He cannot live; he cannot live; our god says he must die!" The Rev. H. Townley, in his Address to the Society of Friends on behalf of Missions, refers to this custom, and shows its unsatisfactory nature to support the mind of a Hindoo in the prospect of a future state. "I have con

versed with a dying Hindoo on the banks of the Ganges, and the substance of his confession was- ." I have no hope of heaven from the circumstance of my dying near the sacred Ganges; nor do I anticipate future happiness from the worship of the gods. I know of no mode whereby I can be saved; and I believe that after death I shall be cast into hell as the punishment of my many sins!" To the same effect is the following pathetic passage from the late Rev. W. Ward." Look at the heathen by the side of the Ganges, calling upon their dying relations to repeat the names of Narayun, of Gunga, of Ram, and of a whole rabble of gods; pouring the waters of this river down the throat of the dying, exposing them in the agonies of death to the chilling damps by night, and to the scorching beams of the sun by day; and listen to the cries of the dying— Tell me not of works of merit, I have been committing nothing but sin. And now—where am I going?—What is there beyond this wretched existence? Am I going into some reptile or some animal body; or shall I at once plunge into some dreadful place of torment? I see the messengers of Yuma coming to seize me. Oh! save me save me! O mother Gunga give me a place near to thee! Oh! Ram! Oh! Narayun! O my Gooroo (his spiritual guide) how dark and heavy the cloud which envelopes me— is there no certainty, no ray of light from any of the shastras to guide and comfort me in my departure? Must I take the irrecoverable plunge to be seen no more?' And, when they have seen and heard all this, let them look at the death of Krishna, the Christian, consoled by the addresses