[5] In the matter of fanaticism, the modern Egyptians, or rather the inhabitants of Alexandria, seem hardly to have degenerated from their ethnic 'forbears,' as we read in Mr J.A. St John's travels the account of a serious insurrection which broke out some years ago in that city, in consequence of certain Jews having taken up the butcher's trade, and having slain the meat with a knife having three instead of five nails in the handle!
[ BEGGARS IN THE FAR EAST. ]
Bengal is blessed with a mild climate and a fertile soil. Provisions are consequently cheap; and as neither substantial houses nor expensive clothing is there essential to comfort, we might naturally expect to see less of misery and destitution than in this country. Such, however, is not the case. Our severe winter engenders habits of industry and forethought, which are unknown in India. The ease with which in most cases their few wants are supplied, renders the inhabitants of that country in the highest degree improvident; and nowhere do we see a greater number of beggars, and misery and destitution paraded through the streets in more revolting forms.
There are no poor-laws in any part of India. Relief, however, is not withheld, nor indeed sparingly bestowed. Many can afford to give a little; and where nothing is exacted, many give willingly. Little charity is bestowed by Europeans in the streets, as they generally ride in palanquins or carriages, and as, besides, they feel the weight even of a purse too much on a hot day. However, let it not be supposed that they, like Dives, wallow in wealth, and close their ears to the importunities of the heathen. The Baboo or Sircar gives weekly or monthly pensions to some patronised beggars; and on a Saturday in some large towns, the blind, lame, and halt come to the gates of the grandees, and receive from the trusty durwan or doorkeeper a handful of cowries and coarse rice, of which one, two, or three rupees' worth are mixed up, according to the circumstances of the master. But it is not to ordinary beggars I now propose to draw the attention of the reader—the infirm or the lazy, with whom we are all tolerably familiar. But in India there is another class of beggars—religious and professional beggars—who are proud of their calling. I do not mean that there are no religious mendicants to be found at home; but although the object to be attained in both countries may be similar, the agents employed in the East are so different, that a description of them will to many European readers have all the gloss of novelty.
The two principal sects in Bengal are known as Soneeassees and Byrâgees. The former exclusively worship Mahado. 'They are not to inhabit houses or temples,' say their scriptures; 'but to live in woods and forests, under the wide expanse of heaven, there to meditate upon the greatness of the Creator, and contemplate his beautiful works.' An infant who is to become a Soneeassee has from his birth the badge of Sheva upon him: no razor ever touches his hair, and his locks are matted and dishevelled, when other children's are neatly combed and anointed. When he approaches manhood, he takes the vow of celibacy, he receives from the hand of the Brahmin the muntra or mystical creed, the dried skin of an antelope, and a piece of coarse, unbleached cotton, stained yellow with ochre, which he can use as a plaid, it being seven feet long; upon the skin he is supposed to sit and sleep, and the cloth overshadows the shoulders of the young enthusiast. Even after these are worn out, as it is supposed that the devotee is pretty well broken in to the hardships of his situation, they on no account may be renewed. These Soneeassees seldom adhere to the letter of their religion in the present day, although it is said that in times gone by some of their class have sat absorbed and abstracted until their spirit held communion with the great god—their bodies wasting away from neglect, and their nails growing like claws. In the present day, prayer and meditation are given to the winds, and they may be seen fat and sleek, perambulating the streets of the towns and villages, smeared over with ashes and ochre, and great coils of matted hair, which some tastefully wind like a turban round their head. They take care also to display, in glaring red and white paint, upon their foreheads and arms, the various insignia or marks of Sheva, such as the trident. Occasionally one also flourishes about a steel trident, which the figure of Mahado always wields in his hand, and which is also placed on the summit of his temple. The Soneeassees are the most impudent and importunate of beggars. There came under my notice a band of three, who used regularly to visit the town twice a week. These men had made a vow to collect a certain number of rupees to build a temple, and for this purpose infested the doors of the wealthiest of the Hindoo community, and followed and persecuted them even in their drives with continued cries. It is astonishing how soon superstition enabled them to fulfil their vow, and how the extortioners were allowed to escape the punishment their impudence deserved.
The Byrâgees are not so intrusive a sect. They frequently live in the open air, though not prohibited from seeking other shelter. Their heads are differently treated from those of the Soneeassees, for both men and women have the crown shaved quite smooth. Both sexes wear a piece of cloth checked like shepherd's plaid. They have great strings of wooden beads, or malâhs, turned out of the stalks of the holy toolsie, round their necks; and they generally collect their rice and cowries in a dried gourd-shell. Persons of this sect at their death are placed in an upright position in a deep grave, and so consumed with fire. In former times, the widows used to burn themselves with their lords. The Byrâgees, when they attain years of discretion, may choose their wives from any caste they please. Some of the Byragins, therefore, are said to be far cleverer than the everyday Hindoo women, having been selected from a class which are looked down upon by the others, but who are taught high accomplishments, and are devoted to the temples of the gods. In his begging excursions the Byrâgee carries a pair of cymbals or a small gong; and singing the songs of Krishna, and his courtships among the milkmaids, he delights the hearts of his Hindoo hearers, and makes them lavish of their gifts.
The English reader perhaps has never heard of a beggar such as I shall now depict. One may happen to be in a reflective mood, and aroused from his meditations by what he supposes to be a cow lowing close to his ear. He starts up and goes to the window, but instead of that quadruped he finds a man standing with a rope round his neck, and a woful countenance, holding out his palms, indicating that he wants charity. This man has had the misfortune to lose his cow; and as it died tethered, his religion imposes on him the penalty of begging from door to door without speaking, but imitating the cow, till he has realised enough to purchase one of these sacred animals, and to give something besides in charity to the Brahmins. This provision was perhaps made by the religion of the country in favour of the cow, to preserve so useful an animal from ill-treatment; and it is astonishing to see how implicitly the Hindoo submits himself to a mere convention, which he might easily evade.