On the Coromandel Coast/Chapter 20
CHAPTER XX
GHOSTS AND DEVILS
An intelligent man is he who knows when to speak and when to be silent, whose friendship is natural and sincere, and who never undertakes anything beyond his powers.—Sloka.
Trichinopoly sits in the very bosom of idolatry, an idolatry which is real and apparent on every side. It is the worship of the power of evil, unmixed with any leavening philosophy ; nor is it elevated by any idea of symbolism. The devil, in whom the man-in-the-street believes, is a malignant sprite with a strong personality. The devil must be propitiated in his opinion, lest it should exercise supernatural powers for evil. It manifests its presence to its votaries in all kinds of ways, taking the shapes of animals and men when desirous of moving, and resting in an uncut stone or rude image when stationary.
Europeans look on the idolatrous practices of the heathen with varied feelings. Many pass them by with a scornful contempt, as though they were beneath their notice. Some are repelled, others merely show an idle curiosity, which is too often mingled with a flippancy that gives offence to the keen-witted native. A few openly ridicule the worshippers of idols, a method that does not assist the missionary in his endeavour to teach the people better things.
In the early days of the British in India heathen rites and ceremonies were regarded by the Europeans with something like horror. It was a time of superstition in England. Men and women seriously believed in witchcraft and intercourse with the devil. What they saw in India did not tend to lessen that faith. It is not surprising to read that when Matthias Vincent, one of the Company's servants, was accused (1679) by an Englishman named Thomas of having 'practised Diabolicall arts with the Bramines and others for bewitching him/ the Court of Directors gave ear to the tale. They not only listened but took action, directing the authorities in Bengal to prevent him from 'exercising charms or useing poyson, by securing him a safe custody from conversing with any of the said witches or other natives.'
Thomas afterwards went out of his mind and attempted to murder his wife. In those days this fact not only served to show that the man was a lunatic, but that he was suffering under a ban or spell cast upon him by another. Vincent succeeded in clearing himself of the charge of witchcraft after he reached England, and he received the honour of knighthood within two years of his departure from India.
There is something very pathetic in the deep-rooted faith in demons exhibited by the natives of the South of India. A man may embrace Christianity, declare his faith and allegiance to the God of his new religion, and live an exemplary Christian life, yet his demon creed clings closely. The devils are still living and real personalities, and he trembles before their power; but he no longer worships and propitiates—that is left for his heathen relatives to do. Though he does not worship nor propitiate them, he believes in the power of casting them out through the example of Jesus Christ. A native clergyman once described to me in good faith and all seriousness how he had successfully cast the devil out of a young girl. He was born a Christian, and was the son of a native clergyman. Christians, he told me, were very rarely possessed, but he had known of cases of possession among them. The girl in question was the daughter of a poor woman; she assisted her mother in making rice-cakes for sale. The usual symptoms were shown, such as indicate hysteria and derangement of the nerves in England. The girl was beaten several times, and heathen magicians were called in to exorcise the evil spirit. As she was a Christian it would not leave her at their bidding. In despair the mother came to her pastor for help. After some consideration he decided to make an attempt. He sent word that the girl was to fast on a certain day. On that same day he fasted himself, and met her and her mother at the church. He led the girl to the altar steps and bade her kneel at the railing. Opening his Prayer-book, he began to pray in a low voice. As he proceeded the patient groaned. Gradually her voice grew louder; but the more she groaned the louder did the worthy man pray, until at last he was obliged to shout against her screams, still praying earnestly at the top of his voice. The power of his supplications prevailed. The girl sank exhausted by his side, silent, but once more sane. Hoarse and worn out with the effort, he handed her back to her mother freed from the spell of the evil spirit.
He had another story to tell of the wife of a school-master, who occupied a small house near his church. She was a famine orphan, from one of the orphanages, a good, quiet girl before and for some time after her marriage. She lived with her husband like any other native woman, cooking his food and keeping the house.
One day after sunset she went to draw water at a well, which was near a tree inhabited by a devil. (I give the good man's story as he told it to me.) From that hour she was possessed, and it was supposed that she must inadvertently have gone too near the tree. Her husband, who was much attached to her, was greatly distressed. He tried to beat the devil out of her. Several times a day he beat her severely, but it had no effect. She did not seem to feel it, and was certainly neither better nor worse for the treatment. He then tried what native doctors could do, but their medicines made no difference. He was advised to take her to the General Hospital, and he did so. The devil never manifested himself before the European medical men, and, after a few days' observation, she was discharged as having no ailment of any kind. The moment she set foot inside her own house she was seized by the demon and thrown into violent convulsions.
During its manifestation she screamed and cried out in different languages, singing strange songs in unknown tongues. One of the songs she sang was in the language of the Koravans, the bird-catchers, a people she was not known to have seen or spoken with. (Could she have been an orphan of that tribe?)
Another peculiar feature of her possession was the gift of second sight. At times she prophesied and told people their innermost thoughts and secret actions. A man passing in the road heard her cry, 'Aha! you beat your wife last night; you think that no one knows that you beat her cruelly.' He slunk away like a whipped hound, for she spoke the truth. No one was safe from the revelations that might be made.
There was an elderly woman living a few miles away. She was of some consequence in her village, owning the house she occupied, and giving herself airs on that account. She professed to have certain powers of magic, and when she heard of the young woman's affliction she expressed a wish that she might be allowed to try her hand at casting out the devil. She entered the patient's room; but before she could begin her exorcisms the demon spoke by the mouth of the girl. The crowd that had gathered to witness the casting out of the devil was stricken with horror at the revelations which were poured into their ears. This woman, who held her head so high, and pretended to be so superior to her neighbours, had led a life of infamy in the past, the demon declared, and it began to give some of the details of her evil-doing. When she heard the story of her life proclaimed in this public manner the shock was so great that she fell down in a fit of paralysis before the possessed wife, and she was carried to her house, where she died two months later. It was found that everything that had been revealed was true.
The young woman was eventually cured by a Mohammedan hakim, who wove spells and wrote them on thin slips of paper. The slips were soaked in water, and were swallowed by the patient.
When people are possessed they are frequently gifted with the power of prophecy, and this power is made use of by others for their own purpose, so my informant said. There are professional casters-out of devils, who can make the demons speak through the lips of the afflicted, and with the assistance of these professionals the devils may be consulted. The belief in harsh treatment as a cure is universal. He assured me that the patient was incapable of feeling pain when possessed. He further drew attention to the fact that there were two kinds of spirits, the demon or malignant sprite that lives in trees and rocks and takes possession of the human body; and the ghost or spirit of a departed human being who has met with a violent death. The ghost is apparently almost identical with the European ghost. He related a tale that was told to his father by Bishop Dealtry's butler. The butler said:
'We were travelling up-country, and we came to a dak bungalow one evening, where we intended to sleep the night. The Mussulman servant of the bungalow met his lordship at the door, and said:
' "You cannot sleep here, my lord. No one can spend the night in this house. An evil spirit disturbs it; and it is not good to be in the same house at night with an evil spirit."
'The Bishop was not afraid. He said that he would sleep there, and he begged us not to fear any evil spirits; they could do us no harm.
'We made his lordship's dinner, prepared the bedroom, and cooked our own food. He ate his evening meal with a calm mind, and, having said his prayers as usual, he laid himself down on the cot in the bedroom, while we spread our mats in the verandah close by. In the middle of the night we heard sounds of people moving in the kitchen. There was chopping of wood, rolling of the curry-stone, and noise among the cooking-pots. From within the house came the sound of splashing water, as though someone was bathing in the bathroom adjoining his lordship's sleeping-room. Presently the Bishop called, and I went to him.
' " There is someone washing in the bathroom; bring a light, that I may see who it is," he said.
'I brought the lamp in from the verandah, and together we entered the the bathroom. The sounds ceased as we opened the door. The Bishop asked:
' "Who is there?"
' He received no reply. The room was empty, and there was no sign of water having been thrown about since the Bishop himself had taken his bath. He closed the door and returned to his bed, while I went back to my mat in the verandah. No sooner did we close our eyes in sleep than the noise began again. I knew from the beginning that it was not the noise of a human being, but of a spirit. It was the spirit of a man who years ago had been murdered there. The circumstances of the murder were well known to the village people. I heard the Bishop call once more, and I went to him.
' " My lord," I said, "this is neither man nor woman who disturbs the peace of the night. It is the ghost which has for so many years driven travellers away from this bungalow. The bungalow servant will tell your lordship that I speak a true word. Did he not warn us of this evil thing?"
'His lordship made no reply, but began hastily to dress himself. When he had put on all the clothes that he wore in the house he asked me for the robes that he used for service in the church. I gave him his long silk gown with the large white sleeves and the other garments that went with it. Taking his Bible in his hand, he opened the door of the bathroom and slowly advanced into the middle of the room, we, his servants, watching at the open doorway with our livers turning to water. The Bishop raised his hand:
' "I conjure thee, whatever thou art, to depart in peace and trouble no more this house."
'We could see nothing, and when the Bishop had stood a few minutes in silence, perhaps making a silent prayer for the spirit of the murdered man, he returned to his room and went to bed. The rest of the night was passed in peace and quietness. We left the bungalow the next morning. From that time it ceased to be haunted by ghosts; and travellers are able once again to use it.'
The same native clergyman had another authentic ghost story to tell. It was one that he had heard from his father.
Among his father's congregation there was a Eurasian, named Reilly, who had heard the tale of the Bishop laying the ghost. He expressed his disbelief in it, and in all other ghosts. He held a situation in one of the merchants' offices on the beach at Madras.
It was customary for a peon or watcher to stay all night at this office, and some difficulty was experienced in getting a man to fulfil the duty. The reason given for refusal to take the post of watchman was that the place was haunted by the ghost of a punkahman who had met with an accidental death on the spot. This punkahman in years gone by had served the head of the firm as a body servant while his master was in the office. His duties were to meet his master on arrival, carry his office-box upstairs, where the merchant sat, return to the carriage for the tiffin-basket, and make a third journey to fetch the water-goglet and tumbler. One day, in returning for the water-bottle, the man tripped, fell' down the stairs, and broke his neck. He had a tall, spare figure, and was always dressed in a spotless white Mahratta dress, the coat being full at the waist and reaching to the feet. The dress is seen at the present time on the servants of the Madras Club. He wore a muslin turban of blue check of a peculiar pattern, unlike anything that is used in the present day.
Soon after his death he was met by the night-watchman running up and down stairs as if in the performance of his duties. If there had been nothing more to disturb them but his appearance the servants might not have objected. The peculiar feature of the haunting was, that wherever the night-watchman slept he found himself in a different place on awaking. The move was made without the knowledge of the sleeper. Nothing was felt: he merely awoke in a different spot from the one in which he had laid himself down.
The watchman became nervous and took a companion to keep him company. It made no difference. In the morning the two men found themselves in another part of the house. Then a party watched, keeping awake all night; but nothing happened and no ghost was seen. The following night they watched again and unintentionally fell asleep. The next morning the whole party found to their consternation that they had been spirited away to a different part of the building.
The matter was reported to Reilly, who expressed his annoyance with what he termed their folly. He had often stayed late at the office, though he had never slept there, and he had seen no sign of the ghost. One evening, however, he had to remain later than usual. A ship was expected to arrive and it was necessary for him to await her anchorage in the Roads. He sat upstairs in the room belonging to the head of the firm, and a peon stayed below with the night-watchman. Reilly seated himself at the writing-table and beguiled the time with a book. On the table were two candlesticks with glass shades and the candles were lighted, the sun having long since sunk below the horizon.
He was deeply interested in his book and took no heed of how the hours were passing. Suddenly he felt impelled to raise his head and gaze into the room across the breadth of the table. There, just on the other side of it, stood the dead punkahman. It was impossible to mistake him. He wore the long fall old-fashioned coat and the blue-checked turban. Although the man had died before the employment of Reilly in the office, yet the strange visitor smiled at the Eurasian clerk as though he were greeting an old friend after a long absence. Reilly could not believe his eyes. He rose from his seat and, taking the two candles from the table, he advanced towards the spectre. Still the man smiled, regarding Reilly with a steady gaze until he was close upon him. Then in a moment the lights were extinguished and Reilly found himself alone in the dark. A sudden panic seized him. He called his peon, but there was no reply. Stumbling down the stairs in hot haste he found his attendant asleep. Confused, angry, and unhinged by the vision of the ghost he had derided, Reilly so far forgot himself as to beat the peon severely. The man resented the action, and the next day took out a summons against his master for assault.
When the case came on surprise was expressed that a man of so gentle and quiet a nature should have conducted himself violently towards a servant who was not offending in any way. There could be no objection to his spending the hours of waiting in sleep. Reilly did not deny his act. He admitted beating the man in the unusual agitation of the moment, and he gave, as an explanation of his extraordinary behaviour, the story of the apparition. From that day the haunting of the office ceased and the watchmen slept at their posts in peace.
With regard to second sight and the power of reading the past and the future, the natives believe that it is done by the aid of the demons through the lips of the possessed. There is another way of learning what the future holds; it is by the reading of the stars through astrology. The latter process is entirely one of calculation.
There was still living in 1899 a man named Streenivasa Chamberlain. He was of the Brahmin caste and was born in Trichinopoly. A clever youth of some education, he was brought to the notice of the police superintendent, who admitted him into the service, and encouraged him to study. He learnt several languages, English being one of them; he had been a student of astrology from his earliest days. Like many other high caste natives, he was gifted with a marvellous memory and a clear mathematical brain. While in the police service he came under the influence of a Mr. Chamberlain, who persuaded him to embrace Christianity. He was baptised, and took the name of his benefactor. Several years later he had a severe illness and was brought to the General Hospital, Madras, where he created much excitement among the European nurses by telling them something of their own lives. It was all done by casting their horoscopes and making calculations. Among other things, he said that a change would occur on the staff of the medical officers of the hospital. He professed by a series of calculations to arrive at the name of the new officer and he gave the name. A few weeks later an unexpected change did occur, and the officer named was appointed.
I asked the native clergyman how Streenivasa reconciled his practice of astrology with his profession of the Christian faith. He replied that Streenivasa saw no harm in it as long as he believed in the grace of God intervening. 'By the grace of God,' he added, 'we are able to do things spontaneously and of our free will which may avert the ruling of the stars.' He gave as an instance the following, as he cast his eyes round my drawing-room:
'Here you have a palm which should be living outside exposed to wind and rain and sun. By the grace of your hand it is brought into your drawing-room, tenderly nurtured, and safeguarded from the destroying cyclone and the knife of the hut- builder, which in the ordinary course of events would cause it to suffer. The palm, of course, has no free will or independent action; but we, who have both, and at the same time enjoy the providence of God, Who watches over us as well as the palm, may study the reading of the future and call upon Him to avert the evil which threatens.'
It is a belief in a higher power over fate which prevents the Hindu from becoming an apathetic fatalist. I have a vivid recollection of this faith in 1899, when astrologers foretold all kinds of disasters. They were to culminate in November, when a great nation was to be submerged and lost; plague and famine were to devastate the land, and on the 13th of the month the end of the world was to come. Propitiatory offerings and prayers were made by people of all castes and religions, who, when they found that the catastrophes prophesied did not come to pass, declared that the gods had listened and intervened to save men from the threatened evil. It may, perhaps, be remembered that just at this period troubles in Africa occurred which ended in the loss to the Boers of their country. The prediction of the end of the world caused a great commotion throughout the island of Ceylon; so much so that many of the Buddhists withdrew their money from the banks and spent it on religious works. Singhalese and Tamils attended their places of worship, and made offerings more frequently than usual. When the fatal 13th dawned the native merchants closed their shops, and the workmen belonging to the different mills and manufactories failed to appear. The day passed uneventfully; the gods had been merciful, and men returned to their daily routine happy and content.
No tragedy is without its stray straws of humour. For the next three months scarcely a chicken was to be had in the island, to the consternation of careful house-keepers. The old henwives of native villages had set no eggs.
'What is the good of wasting time over such foolishness? The gods will not ask fowls of us when they come,' they said.
So they curried the unfortunate hens that desired to sit, and realised on the fowls that were fit for roasting while the opportunity offered.
To return to the subject of the possessed. There was a man of the Velalla caste in the Trichinopoly district who had been born of Roman Catholic parents and been brought up in the faith. One of his sons was afflicted with epilepsy, and the fits were ascribed to possession by a demon. The father tried various means of curing him, but without success. He employed native doctors, who could do nothing. He next called in the Roman Catholic priest, who endeavoured to exorcise the evil spirit by prayer. It was said that on one occasion the padre placed the Bible on the patient's head, but the power of the demon was so strong that the holy book was thrown high into the air. The man, by the priest's advice, brought his son to live close to one of the churches. Together father and son attended the services of the church constantly, but without any visible improvement in the lad. At the end of three months the Velallan took the boy to Trichinopoly, and they presented themselves at the S.P.G. church, never missing a service. They persevered for three months more, and at the end of the time there was no improvement.
The man was then tempted to go back to the heathen practices of his ancestors. He made sacrifices and oblations to Karmachi, one of the forms of Kali. After a short time the lad seemed better, and the epilepsy gradually left him. The cure was ascribed to the beneficence of Karmachi. The man and all his family forsook their Christian faith and returned to idolatry.
The belief in the power of the priest to exorcise is not confined to the East. I remember a case in 1860, when the parents of an idiot boy came to the incumbent of a parish in Norfolk, and begged him to exorcise the evil spirit from their son. They explained what they had done in their broad Norfolk speech.
'We ha' beat him black and blue; we ha' runned him up and down the roads till he cou'n't stand; we ha' held the Bible with the church-door key atween its leaves over his head, while we burnt bacca under him, with him tied to a chair. You'd ha' thought, sir, as that would ha' druv the devil out of him; but that didn't fare to do him no good. And now if you'd be so kind as to try your hand at it, may be the devil will hear yew.'