The Calcutta Review/Series 1/Number 2/Article 4
Art. IV.—1. Parliamentary Papers, Infanticide, India, 1824.
2. Parliamentary Papers, Infanticide, India, 1828.
3. Parliamentary Papers, Infanticide, India, 1843.
Infanticide is no new crime in the multitudinous catalogue of human guilt. Other flagrant transgressions of the moral law have been limited to particular ages or climes, to particular conditions of life or stages of society. The simplicity of primitive or patriarchal times exempted them from many of those forms of delinquency that spring spontaneously out of the multiplied relationships and conventional artificialities of later epochs. The enormity of Sati, or the burning of widows alive on the funeral piles of their husbands, is, in a great measure, peculiar to these Indian realms—being a natural sprout of the baneful superstition that overshadows it. The superabounding affluence of the noble and the mighty, speedily purchasing the gratification of every desire, saves them from temptations that hurry into violations of law, the contraction of ignominy and shame, and ultimate inevitable destruction, whole multitudes of the hunger-bitten sons of poverty. The horrible atrocity of cannibalism is restricted to hordes, which, having to contend with the elements and beasts of prey for a scanty and precarious subsistence, have become so sunk and brutalized as to retain little else than the insulted prerogative of the human form;—while the civilized crime of forgery can obviously have no existence among tribes that have no metallic currency, no paper circulation, and no knowledge whatever of the art of writing. To Infanticide, on the other hand, belongs the fell and the fatal pre-eminence of ubiquity as to time and place, and rank and condition. It is common to all ages—having been sanctioned by many of the “world’s grey Fathers,” as well as by their distant posterity of yesterday. It is common to all climes—staining alike the sands of the torrid, and the snows of the frigid zone, with the blood of innocents,—and replenishing the temperate regions between, with many a voice of lamentation and woe. It is common to all ranks and degrees of life—leaving the memorials of its sanguinary presence in the palaces of princes not less than in the cottages of the poor. It is common to all stages and gradations of society, from the lowest depths of savage barbarism to the topmost heights of civilization and refinement. But, probably, in no age or clime, in no condition of life or stage of society, has the unnatural crime prevailed so extensively and systematically, as for many generations, it has done, among certain clans of feudatory Rajputs and other tribes in Central and Western India.
Before entering into details it may be well to glance at the geographical aspect or general “physiognomy” of the regions, within whose territorial limits, the unnatural crime, to a greater or less extent, is known or suspected to be perpetrated. For this end, let the reader, with a good map before him, suppose himself to start from Bombay towards the Bay of Cambay. Passing the river Tapti and city of Surat, on his right, let him advance to that part of the Bay, opposite to which the Nerbudda disembogues its waters into it. There, let him take his stand. Immediately in front, across the plains at the head of the Bay, at the distance of about three hundred miles, the insulated Abu—“the Saint’s pinnacle”—“the Rajput Olympus”—the loftiest mountain in Hindustan—rears its head. Near it, a little to the east, commences the chain of the Aravalli (Ar-bali) or “mountains of strength,” which stretch away in bold ridges, in a north easternly direction, towards the imperial city of Dehli—constituting, as it were, the back bone of Upper India—and separating the arid plains, and ever-shifting sand-hills of Marwar, Jaissalmir, and Bikanir from the fields and forests of Mewar, Ajmir, and other more highly favoured states of eastern Rajasthan. Immediately on his left, to the west, swells out the large peninsula of Gujarat (Guzzerat), on whose shores, washed by the waves of the Arabian sea, stood the celebrated temple of Somnath. Beyond its western boundary, the Gulf of Kach (Cutch), lies the country of that name, which extends to the great Delta of the Indus. Immediately on his right, to the east, is the magnificent valley of the Nerbudda, rising towards the crest or Highlands of Jabalpur, whose waters are drained off on either side, by the Ganges and the Nerbudda, into the Bay of Bengal and that of Cambay. The northern side of this valley is flanked throughout by the Vindhya chain of mountains. Between these and the Aravalli, extends the great plateau or elevated table land of Central India,—subdivided into the provinces or states of Malwa and Mewar, Harauti, including Bundi and Kotah, Ajmir and Khisengar, Kerauli and Jaipur, Bhopal and Gwalior,—and watered by the Chumbal and many other considerable streams which fall into the Jumna, between Agra and Allahabad.
These regions, as described by Colonel Tod, in his Annals of Rajasthan, Rajwarra, Raethana, or Rajputana, exhibit every conceivable variety of surface. Here, are fields of richest mould, watered and fertilized by many a meandering stream; there, is “a chaotic mass of rock with it’s splintered pinnacles rising over each other, in varied form, or frowning over the dark indented recesses of its forest-covered and rugged declivities.” Here, are low flat plains of black loam; there, lofty ridges that are “quite dazzling with enormous masses of vitreous rose-coloured quartz.” Here, are districts in which genial nature shoots forth with exuberant and almost spontaneous luxuriance; there, are tracts of barren sand and still more barren salt, relieved only by an occasional oasis of doubtful and half-forced verdure. Here, cultivation is carried on with infinite ease—the whole country resembling a well-dressed garden; there, along the slopes of rugged hills, it is conducted “with infinite labour, on terraces, as the vine is cultivated in Switzerland and on the Rhine,” Here, the hamlets of the peasantry lie scattered in peaceful seclusion amid groves and rivulets; there, the fortress of the proud chieftain scowls defiance from the summit of each lowering rock. Here, are lakes of fresh water, with banks and islets of surpassing beauty; there, are salt marshes, whose touch seems to be pollution, and whose exhalation, the very breath of the pestilence. And, what is still more rare—while there are large rivers of fresh water, there are large rivers of salt! Here, is the Chumbal, “the paramount Lord of the floods of Central India,” fed by a thousand streams and minor rills, from twice as many perennial springs—diffusing fertility and joy from the heights of Malwa and Mewar to its points of confluence with the Jumna; there, is the Luni, which, issuing from the sacred Lakes of Ajmir, and in its course becoming saturated with salt, spreads desolation as it rolls along, till it loses itself in the Run of Kach—in the rains, “a dirty saline solution,” and, in the dry season, presenting nought to the eye but a vast “glaring sheet of salt, spread over its insidious surface full of dangerous quicksands.”
In regions so exceedingly diversified, it is not to be supposed that there is a destitution of mineral resources. Accordingly, we are assured, that the Geologist and Mineralogist might there reap a rich harvest, if not of actual discovery, at least of illustrative and corroborative facts. But, this is a theme on which our limits will not allow us to enter. Neither can we venture to do more than simply to refer to the subject of their Antiquities—those wondrous remains of citadels, temples, palaces and triumphal pillars, which bespeak to the eye of the modern traveller, the glory and renown of bye-gone days—and which, amid many relics of still surviving barbarism, present monuments of an early civilization coeval with that of Greece and Rome, and decidedly surpassed only by the grandeur and magnificence of those proud commonwealths.
But, diversified as is the surface of these romantic regions, not less diversified is the history and character of their inhabitants. Without entering into particulars, for which we have no space, suffice it to say that, agreeably to the legends and traditions of the Hindus themselves, “India within the Indus is not the cradle of their race, but west, amid the hills of Caucasus (Inducush or Kho, the mountains of the moon) whence the sons of Vaivaswata, or ‘the sun-born,’ migrated eastward to the Indus and the Ganges,—and that at different periods of time, different tribes or hordes in succession entered India for purposes of plunder, conquest, or peaceful settlement. Of these we may note the existence of three classes that are generally distinct, without detailing the specific differences by which they are respectively distinguished. There are, first, the aboriginal tribes such as the Mairs, the Minas, and the Bhils, who, driven from the open and more fertile plains by successive invaders, and increased in number from time to time, the outlaws of justice and refugees from oppression, have been compelled to seek for shelter in impassable forests and the inaccessible fastnesses of mountain ranges,—living in a state of wild and savage independence—wielding the bow and arrow—subsisting on the chase and lawless rapine—and scorning to own allegiance to any superior power. There are, secondly, the more peaceful and settled tribes, such as the Goala, the Jats and the Soni, which constitute the agricultural, the pastoral, and the mercantile communities—paying the exacted tribute and rendering due homage to the lords of the soil. There are, thirdly, the Rajput or Royal races, who, for ages, have exercised sovereign power. These are the Kshetriya or military caste, which in dignity, honour, and sacredness, rank next to that of the Brahmanical order. Originally there were but two races—known under the mythological designation of the Solar and the Lunar. These claim a stupendous and incredible antiquity—tracing their ancestry to the commencement of the fabulous era of the Satya Yug, upwards of three millions of years ago,—and professing to derive their pedigree, the former, from Ikshwaku, the son of Manu, “the sun-born,” and the latter, from Budha or Mercury, the son-in-law of Ikshwaku. But these, in time spread out and multiplied into divers collateral races—subdivided into numerous branches or ramifications—and these again partitioned and cantoned into innumerable clans and rival dynasties. Of the “Race of the Sun,” the most eminent surviving chieftains are the Ranas or Princes of Mewar, Jaipur, Marwar, and Bikanir; of “the Race of the Moon,” the most important are the reigning families of Jaissalmir and Kach,—the Bhattis and the Jharijas. Respecting all of these, Col. Tod tells us that each race has “its genealogical creed, describing the essential peculiarities, religious tenets and pristine locale of the clan”—that “every Rajput should be able to repeat this creed”—and that in point of fact, “there is scarcely a chief of character for knowledge, who cannot repeat the genealogy of his line;” though, in these degenerate days, many are satisfied with referring to the family bard or rhyming chronicler. These genealogical tables, which are the “touch-stone of affinities, and guardian of the laws of inter-marriage,” include in the lines of unbroken descent from Manu, all the names that are most renowned in the national epics of the Mahabharat and Ramayan—the Purans and other heroic legends of India;—the names, not merely of giants and mighty warriors, but also of demi-gods or incarnate deities. And hence, beyond all debate, one chief cause of that inconceivable and almost superhuman pride which forms so distinguishing a characteristic of the Rajput tribes. Even in Christian and highly civilized countries how often is the pride of birth found to operate with a fell and deadly potency?—the ability to trace up a lineage through several centuries to some robber chief, or stalwart warrior, being supposed to confer the prerogative of stalking abroad with an air of loftiness that might make an Archangel pay the forfeit of his crown!—as if the poorest beggar or most clownish artizan could not, as well as they, trace his lineage still higher—even to Noah and Adam, the first and second father of the race of man! What, then, must it be among demi-civilized and Pagan races like the Rajputs, where each Rana and petty chief, down to the remotest member of his family or clan, believes, with all the intensity of an undoubting faith, that he is of a superlatively ancient and royal descent,—yea, that his genealogical tree mounts upwards for millions of years, from the present iron age, through the brazen and the silver, to the very commencement of the age of gold—and that, consequently, in his veins there literally flows the blood of those mighty kings and warriors, with the praises of whose magnificence and feats of unrivalled heroism all India has for ages rung.
Having thus glanced at the general features of the country and its inhabitants, let us at once proceed with our more immediate design, which is to point out the prevalence and extent of the horrid crime of Infanticide, as practised by the Rajputs and other tribes in Central and Western India—the agents and means employed in its accomplishment—the causes or reasons which may have led to its original perpetration, and which still tend to perpetuate it as a national custom—and the measures adopted or proposed for its immediate or ultimate abolition.I. Let us attend to the evidence by which the existence and extent of the crime have been established beyond the possibility of being called in question even by scepticism itself in its wildest and most wanton moods. It rests on the sustained testimony of men whom the breath of slander itself cannot taint with the suspicion of bewilderment amid the scintillations of a wayward and fiery fanaticism—men, some of whom have been greatly distinguished in the Republic of letters, and all of them, high political functionaries of the British Government. It is a testimony which, for the most part, exhibits all the stately march of official form, with its train of stubborn statistics and arithmetical details.
The van in the phalanx of evidence is worthily led on by Sir John Shore, afterwards Lord Teignmouth, who, as the successor of Sir William Jones in the Presidential chair of the Asiatic Society, first brought the subject to the notice of that learned body in 1794. In doing so, he feels himself obliged in the outset, on account of its novelty at the time, virtually to deprecate anticipated incredulity. “That the practice of Infanticide,” says he, “should ever be so general as to become a custom with any sect or race of people, requires the most unexceptionable evidence to gain belief: and I am sorry to say that the general practice, as far as regards female infants, is fully substantiated with respect to a particular tribe on the frontiers of Juanpur; a district of the province of Benares, adjoining to the country of Oude. A race of Hindus called Rajkumars reside here; and it was discovered in 1789 only, that the custom of putting to death their female offspring had long subsisted and did actually then very generally prevail amongst them. The Resident at Benares (Mr. Duncan, afterwards Governor of Bombay) in a circuit which he made through the country where the Rajkumars dwell, had an opportunity of authenticating the existence of the custom from their own confessions: he conversed with several: all unequivocally admitted it, though all did not fully acknowledge its atrocity.” Sir John further adds, that it must be some satisfaction to know that the custom, “though general, was not universal; as natural affection, or some other motive, had induced the fathers of some Rajkumar families, to bring up one or more of their female issue; but the instances where more than one daughter had been spared, were very rare—and that one village only furnished a complete exception to the general custom.” It was also soon afterwards discovered that “the same custom prevailed, though in a less degree, amongst a smaller tribe of people, also within the province of Benares, called Rajbunses.”Our attention is next directed to Western India. In 1800, the subject was first introduced to the notice of Mr. Duncan, then Governor of Bombay, by the Minister of the Nawab of Surat, who reported that “among the tribe of Rajputs, and especially among the Rajahs of that class, the birth of a daughter in their house was considered as disgraceful”—that newly born daughters were accordingly “put to death”—that the practice was not general through all the sub-divisions of their tribe, though, in several places, they did thus stony-heartedly kill them.” Again, in 1804, in a conversation with a daughter of one of the Guikowar Princes of Gujarat, he incidentally ascertained the fact, that the caste of Jharija Rajputs in Kach (Cutch) “did not bring up their daughters.” At the same time, a native of Kach said—“It is notoriously known to be the established practice among those of the Jharija tribe of Kach and the neighbouring district of Kattiawar, not to bring up their daughters, but to put them to death at their birth.” Once more, in 1806, a private messenger from Rajkote, the capital of Kattiawar, unequivocally admitted that, “daughters were never brought up in his master’s family.” All these incidental intimations were distinctly corroborated by Capt. Seton, stationed at Mandavi, who, after due inquiry, positively testified, that “every female infant born in the Rajah’s family, if of a Rani or lawful wife, was immediately put to death.”
It is easy to anticipate the effect of such successive disclosures on a benevolent mind like that of Mr. Duncan. And, happily for the cause of humanity, a co-adjutor, worthy of such a principal and such a cause, was providentially raised up in the person of Col. Walker—a name now indelibly engraven in the annals of philanthrophy. In 1808, he commenced those enquiries into the subject which he proposed with a vigour, an energy, and an earnestness as untiring in the pursuit as they were successful in the issue. And what was the immediate result? A relief from the previous painful surmises?—A contradiction to the antecedent distressing revelations? No such thing. His investigation opened up views of the extent of the criminal practice of a startling and appalling magnitude. After the fullest and most elaborate enquiry, his deliberate conclusion was that of the Jharija inhabitants of Kach, “the far greater part followed the practice without remorse”—that, throughout the country, there might be “six or eight houses wherein the masters of families brought up their daughters”—that, otherwise, “the practice was general,” not only in Kach, but throughout the province of Gujarat—and that even in regard to the few families which, in whole or in part, discontinued it, their motives were found to be none of the purest or the worthiest. By their own confession, “this act of humanity did not proceed from parental feelings. It appeared to be inspired not by motives of affection for the object, so much as by personal considerations, arising from the ideas of metempsychosis, which are so universally and rigidly observed by the followers of Jaina. These people consider it a sin to deprive any creature, however weak or noxious, of life; and their doctrines are said to have made an impression on a few of the Jharijas.” In the absence of an accurate census, which, with the exception of one or two districts, Col. Walker had it not in his power to obtain, it was impossible to determine, with absolute precision, the aggregate of females that perished annually from the practice of Infanticide. From the reports of natives best acquainted with the country, “the number of Jharija families inhabiting Kach and Kattiawar was estimated at 125,000, and the number of female infants yearly destroyed, to amount to 20,000.” This he was willing to admit bore the appearance of exaggeration. The lowest estimate, however, which he could form, on balancing the statements of conflicting authorities, and which he had every reason to believe fell as much short of the truth as the former might be supposed to exceed it, was, that in Kattiawar about a thousand were annually destroyed, and in Kach, about two thousand. Even if we take but the half of this supposed minimum, what a prodigious waste of human life! In a limited territory, with a population not exceeding a small English county, fifteen hundred annually meeting with an untimely end! or forty-five thousand in the course of a single generation! or, nearly half a million since the day that Luther sounded the trump of the Reformation in Europe!
Nor was this all. The custom of “exclusively murdering females and a systematic infanticide”—a custom, so peculiar and so wholly different from any among the nations of antiquity which tolerated or permitted the practice generally—did not seem to be confined to the Jharija Rajputs alone. However extraordinary it may appear, “the custom,” says Col. Walker, “of putting their infant daughters to death, has also been discovered to exist with the Rhator Rajputs of Jaipur and Jaudpur; but this fact, when reported in Europe, was doubted and denied to be possible. It is confirmed, however, by every intelligent native of that country; nor does there appear any ground for questioning its existence. The custom is traced to other tribes of Hindustan, and in particular to the Jats and Mewats, which latter are a sect of Mussulmans.” Indeed, says he, as the result of all his enquiries, “we may assume it as an unquestionable fact, that the existence of female infanticide prevails to a greater extent in India than has yet come under the observation of the British Government.”
For nearly thirty years these significant notices of Col. Walker, relative to other parts of India, were allowed to pass into comparative oblivion. Hints were occasionally thrown out by others; and isolated and partial discoveries were made in particular localities—but not of a nature to arrest general attention, or call forth the special interference of Government. It was reserved for the late excellent Mr. Wilkinson, when employed as political agent in different parts of Rajasthan, to lay open the full and fearful extent of the evil, first, in a paper inserted in the Calcutta Christian Observer, 1835, and secondly, in an official document, dated 1836, which now appears in the Parliamentary Papers for 1843. “An intelligent Rajput chief,” says Mr. W. “in conversing with me on the subject some months back, stated it as his opinion, that not less than twenty thousand infants were annually destroyed in the whole of Malwa and Rajputana, including Jaudpur, Bikanir, Jaipur and Jaissalmir. We have no means of ascertaining the fact; the number may be exaggerated; but it is infinitely greater than that of the number of Satis ever was all over India since our connexion with it.” This statement, with its various accompanying details, startled and confounded Mr. W.’s immediate superior, Mr. Bax, the British Resident at Indore. He with many others, had been lulled asleep by the too favourable verdict of Sir J. Malcolm, who, in 1821, thus reported to the Supreme Government——“Infanticide in Malwa is not known among the lower classes; this shocking usage still prevails among some Rajput chiefs of high rank and small fortunes, who, from a despair of obtaining a suitable marriage for their daughters, are led by an infatuated pride to become the destroyers of their own offspring. This usage is, however, on the decline, and every effort has been made to prevent the frequent recurrence of such crime.” Mr. Bax, accordingly, expressed himself with considerable incredulity on the subject; and, as a complete set-off against one part of Mr. W.’s statement, announced that “an intelligent native,” in his vicinity, “calculated that the utmost number of female children annually put to death in these provinces would scarcely amount to fifty!” Here was a discrepancy even to hyperbole. Two estimates, one of which “assigns fifty cases of infanticide to a whole year, and the other assigns nearly fifty-five such cases to each day throughout the year!” No wonder though the Supreme Government should, in its reply, declare that it was obviously desirable that “some attempt should be made at reconciling the conflicting statements”—adding, “that the cause of the discrepancy might perhaps be ascertained, and some means might be found of partially reconciling it.”
Whether the parties themselves ever attempted to reconcile the difference does not appear from the Parliamentary papers. But it requires very little perspicacity to detect one main source of the discordance. Mr. Bax very honestly confesses, that he himself knew very little about the subject—and that he had “not even met with any one who professed to know much of the extent to which infanticide prevailed in Malwa.” He had been told that Rajputs often gave away their daughters, “for the purpose of being brought up in less noble, though more wealthy families.” And, in the total absence of authentic facts, he adds, with an air of easy good-natured simplicity, as rare as it is amiable, “It is but charitable to believe, that the proudest Rajput would prefer such an alternative to that of destroying his off-spring.” The “intelligent native ” evidently understood his man; and, in his ignorance, boldly ventured on a pleasing guess, or, in his astuteness, hazarded the utterance of a palatable untruth. Totally different was the case with Mr. Wilkinson. He could take high ground, because he could positively declare that “for five years, he had made constant and close inquiries with the view of ascertaining the extent to which the practice still prevailed” in Malwa and elsewhere. And the facts and statements, not the charitable conjectures, assiduously collected during that long period, thoroughly satisfied him that the crime was still very extensively practised. To impose on him, therefore, with any disproportionately diminutive number, was impossible. His informant, the Rajput chief, well knew this, and did not attempt it. But being fully aware of his warm temperament as well as personal interest in, and deep experimental acquaintance with, the subject, he at once put down a number, which might somewhat approximately correspond with both—a number, which, if erroneous at all, assuredly erred on the safe, because the right side—a number, which, if in excess, the actual observations of Mr. Wilkinson and others conclusively proved to be vastly nearer the truth than the worse than pigmy number of Mr. Bax’s “intelligent native.”
Only look at some of the leading and indisputable facts of the case! Wherever Mr. Wilkinson happened to be stationed, there he instituted inquiries, and there invariably did he find the practice, more or less extensively, to prevail. Beginning with the North Eastern State of Jaipur,—whose Rajah, the celebrated Jai Singh, by his exertions about a century ago, in suppressing infanticide, shewed himself, as in other respects also, so superior to the spirit of his age,—Mr. W. testifies, that, in spite of these royal endeavours, the custom was not generally abandoned. “I knew,” says he, “several recent instances of Kachwahas and Rajawats, of the Jaipur territory, who though publicly known to have destroyed their daughters, have met with neither punishment from the Jaipur Government, nor public and general condemnation from their neighbours.” Passing southward, Mr. W. finds, that the Hara Rajputs, who give their name to Harauti, and the heads of which fill the thrones of Bundi and Kotah, “are much given to this horrifying practice.” “I know,” says he, “many cases in which individuals of this tribe have destroyed their daughters, but I cannot state the extent to which infanticide is practised throughout the whole tribe.” Proceeding westward to Mewar or Udaipur, Mr. W. ascertains, that the Ranawal tribes of that province “still practise the crime.” Instances of it came under his own direct and immediate observation. Advancing southward into the province of Malwa, Mr. W. found matters, if possible, still worse. The Thakur of Agra Burkhera, near Bhilsa, a chief of the Pannear tribe, frequently confessed to him that he had destroyed the two or three daughters that had been born to him. “And I doubt not,” adds Mr. W. “but that several of his many kinsmen have followed an example exhibited in such high quarters.” The Maharaja of Sutalia also admitted the fact of his having, many years back, destroyed his infant daughters. While stationed as Political Agent at Sehore, Mr. W. requested the Raja of Khilchipur to institute an enquiry, with a view to ascertain the number of sons and daughters of all his Khichi kinsmen and other Rajputs on his estates, and to forward to him a detailed statement of the result. Similar requests were preferred to the Umut chief of Rajgarh and Narsingarh, and to the Thakurs of other petty states or principalities. They all readily forwarded to him the required returns. The inquiries and statements were all their own, but he had no reason to believe them inaccurate. From him they had nothing to conceal; for all parties were well aware of his knowledge of the existence of the practice, and many of the guilty had openly confessed the murder of one, two, or three daughters, as the case might be; and professed to lament the tyranny of custom which drove them to the perpetration of the shocking crime. Now, what was the result? By the simple spontaneous admission of the guilty parties themselves, it turned out that, in one tribe, the proportion of sons to daughters was 118 to 16; in a second, 240 to 98; in a third, 131 to 61; in a fourth, 14 to 4; in a fifth, 39 to 7; in a sixth, 20 to 7; and in a seventh, 70 to 32. Now, as the most extended inquiries of Statists in Europe and Asia have all shewn one result, viz., “that the births of males and females are of nearly equal amount, the only inference to be drawn from this disparity is, that females, equal or nearly equal in number to the difference here exhibited, have been destroyed.” The murders, therefore, perpetrated in the first of the above tribes, “were 77 per cent. of the females born.” The aggregate result given by these censuses is 632 sons to 225 daughters. This is, at the average rate of 36 daughters to 100 boys; in other words, out of every 100 of the females born, on the sure supposition of the equality of the sexes, 64 have been cruelly destroyed by their parents; or, in round numbers, about two-thirds destroyed, and only one-third preserved. “I might,” says Mr. W. “multiply examples of female infanticide; but the returns above given afford us a means of judging, I believe, with tolerable accuracy, of the extent to which it is carried, and of asserting that it still prevails to a most serious extent. Indeed, the Rajput families, in Malwa, in which no daughters have been destroyed, are, I suspect, but comparatively few.”
Nor was the practice confined solely to the Rajputs. Mr. W. was informed, by the Nawab and Minister of Bhopal, “that a Sikh chief of rank and influence, and also Guru of the Sikhs in Bhopal, had destroyed all his daughters. Still further, as he passed along the frontier tracts of the country between Bundi, Jaipur, and Udaipur, he discovered, especially in the neighbourhood of the Parganas or districts of Jahazpur and Toukra, “that infanticide was generally practised by the Puryar Minas, a race of wild mountaineers, hereditarily addicted to plunder.” The Minas, without reserve, admitted to him, that they had destroyed each, one, two, or three daughters.” Of eleven of the villages he obtained an accurate census, which proved, that the aggregate numbers of boys under twelve years of age was 369, and of girls only 87; in other words, 282, or rather more than three fourths of the girls had been destroyed in these villages within the brief period of twelve years. In one village there were only 4 girls to 44 boys; in another, 4 girls to 58 boys; and in a third, with a large proportion of boys, no girls at all—the inhabitants freely “confessing that they had destroyed every girl born in their village.” Well might Mr. W. conclude, that “the above details must fully satisfy every one that female infanticide is carried on to a frightful extent throughout Malwa and Rajputana.”
But the existence and extent of the crime in these and other Page:The Calcutta Review (1844), Volume 1.djvu/395 has, for ages, been perpetrated, it is natural that the question should be put, how and by whom is it committed? Who are the guilty agents in this foul conspiracy against the simplest and most elementary right of humanity—the right of existence? What are the means, the methods, the instrumentalities employed in so sad and dismal a service?
Respecting the Rajkumars, Sir John Shore is satisfied with remarking, that “the mothers simply starved them (infants) to death.” Mr. Duncan states, that “they killed their infant daughters, or allowed them to die, by denying them all sustenance from their birth.” Mr. Shakespear declares, that “the infant was often strangled.” Among the Rajputs in the Allahabad territory, the juice of the madár plant is usually administered. In the Gwalior districts, the new born infant is ordinarily put to death “by administering poison in the shape of the tobacco leaf, or that of the dutturea plant, but this object is said sometimes to be effected by violence.” In the Rajput States, generally, the juice of the poppy is the ingredient by whose “mortal taste” so many unoffending victims meet with an untimely end.
In Western India, some difficulties were originally encountered in gaining authentic information on this head. Col. Walker’s account is as follows:—“The common expressions for infanticide are, ‘the custom of killing daughters,’ or, ‘the custom of killing young daughters.’ In conversation, and in discussing the subject with the Jharijas, the term used was, ‘the article of girls.’ Although the Jharijas spoke freely of the custom of putting their daughters to death, without delicacy and without pain, they were more reserved on the mode of its execution, and appeared at first unwilling to be questioned on the subject. They usually replied, that ‘it was an affair of the women; it belonged to the nursery, and made no part of the business of the men. They at last threw off this reserve.” From a Nagur Brahman, who attended the camp in the capacity of Vakeel from the Gondal chief, as also from the Chief Rajkote himself, statements, both oral and written, were obtained. From these it appeared, that there is no uniform and invariable mode or agency employed. The birth of a daughter is regarded as an insignificant event—a subject of regret rather than gratulation. “When a female,” echoes Col. Tod, “is born, no anxious enquiries await the mother—no greetings welcome the new-comer, who appears an intruder on the scene, which often closes in the hour of its birth.” “It is well known,” re-echoes Mr. Bax, “that the higher classes of Rajputs look upon the birth of a son as a blessing, and that of a daughter as a misfortune. The former event is ostentatiously promulgated, whilst the latter is passed over in silence, or studiously concealed.” In the significant language of the people it is emphatically pronounced to be “nothing.” When death is determined on, as in the case of the Jharijas it almost invariably is, the fatal act is consummated immediately on the infant’s birth; as “it would be considered a barbarous action, to deprive it of life after it had been allowed to live a day or two.”
So deep-rooted and established is the practice, that very often the child is put to death without so much as apprizing the father of its existence. Sometimes, a special message is sent to him, to which the ordinary reply is, “to do as is customary.” Sometimes, he issues an express command on the subject. But, in general, such a sanguinary intimation is superfluous;—“a total silence on the part of the husband being considered to imply his unalterable resolution, that the child, if a female, should perish.” If, however, the father should wish, as is rarely the case, to preserve a daughter, his injunction would be promptly obeyed; but if the mother entertained a similar wish, while the husband manifested any repugnance to comply, death is inevitable. Women of rank, it is added, “may have their slaves and attendants, who perform this office; but the far greater number execute it with their own hands. This compliance of the women must appear the more extraordinary, as they belong to castes who rear their females, and are brought up in families, where their own existence is evidence against the unnatural practice: but as they are betrothed at an early age, they imbibe the superstition of their husbands, and some of them appear even as advocates for this custom.”
By these assistants or attendants, in the case of noble families, a hole is sometime dug in the earth; it is then filled with milk; and the child, being dropped into it, is drowned. Sometimes, as stated by Sir J. Malcolm in his report of Central India, the father prepares the fatal pill of opium. Sometimes, the infant is simply laid on the ground, or stretched on a plank, to expire. Sometimes, the umbilical cord is drawn over the mouth, so that by the check of respiration, life is extinguished. But, whatever may be the occasional or partial variations, whether as regards the modes or the agents, there is one point about which all are unanimously agreed, viz., that, however antecedently improbable or even incredible, “the mother is commonly the executioner of her own offspring!” It is the deluded mother that most frequently applies the fatal cup, with its narcotic draught, to the lips of the helpless and unsuspecting innocent; or, as if to lacerate the feelings of humanity in their tenderest point, she “puts opium on the nipple of her breast, which the child inhaling with its milk, dies.” Professing to open the fount of life to her own babe, she coolly and deliberately impregnates it with the elements of death! And, in the state in which it was ushered into the world, without form or ceremony, without even the decency of a covering, it is carried forth in a basket and speedily committed to its kindred dust.
What would the Orator, whose indignation was roused to an uncontrollable pitch by a single case of Infanticide on the part of an unhappy mother, when he so vehemently and yet so truly denounced it as “a crime, in its own nature detestable; in a woman prodigious; in a mother, incredible: it is perpetrated against one whose age calls for compassion, whose near relation claims affection, and whose innocence deserves the highest favour;”—what would he say, had he been made acquainted with the inveterately established and whole-sale system of murder now revealed? Our tenderest sensibilities are hurt—wounded—lacerated to the quick. The soul is seized with a secret horror, which stirs up such a struggling tumult of emotions, that language, with all its resources of antithesis, figure, and imagery, furnishes but a feeble and inadequate medium for their expression. We know not well what more can be said, or to better purpose, than has already been said by a celebrated Encyclopedist:—“Infanticide, or child murder,” says he, “is an enormity that our reason and feelings would lead us to reckon a crime of very rare occurrence. That it should exist at all, is, at first view, surprizing;—that it should prevail to any extent is difficult of belief;—that parents should be its perpetrators is in a high degree painful to imagine;—but that mothers should be the executioners of their own offspring, nay their habitual and systematic executioners, is such an agonizing contemplation, such an outrage on humanity, as every amiable feeling of our nature sickens and revolts at.”
III. Curiosity, if there were no higher or nobler principle in our nature, would now impel us to inquire into the causes of so revolting a practice—so systematic an outrage against the dictates of reason, the voice of conscience, and the finest sensibilities of our æsthetic nature. What, it may be asked, are the motives—the reason—the subjects—the ends—fraught with a predominance of force and a sufficiency of interest, to lead to its establishment? How came the annals of humanity to be stained with the records of a phenomenon, not disgraceful merely, not even simply inhuman, but positively anti-human?
Does it proceed, as some have surmised, from a love of cruelty? There is no adequate reason for thinking so. Indeed the expression “love of cruelty” is an extremely vague and ill-defined one. If it be employed, as it often seems to be in common parlance, to indicate a state of mind that is passive rather than active—a negative rather than a positive quality;—then, is it simply a misapplication of terms. For, if all that is really meant by it, be, that there is such a thing as a weakness or distortion of the mental powers—a paralyzation of the moral feelings—a brutalization of the sensitive propensities;—and that, as the result of all this, there is such a thing as obduracy of heart, and searedness of conscience, followed by their inseparable consequence, a heedlessness of pain and suffering, and a general indifference to the calamities of others:—then, is it undoubted that such a state of mind has too often existed, and may too often exist again. But the proper designation for such a state is “insensibility” and not the love of cruelty or any thing else. It is a rank soil in which that, or any other malignant passion, may luxuriantly sprout forth. But, not being itself endowed with activity, it cannot, whether correctly predicable of Rajputs or not, directly lead to action of any kind, however much it may favor the development and growth of that which is evil. If it be employed to denote a love of cruelty for cruelty’s sake, that is, an active passion indicative of a positive delight in the infliction of pain, simply and nakedly as pain—a positive gratification in the suffering of a sentient creature, simply and nakedly as suffering—we trust, for the honour of humanity, that it is far more rare than is often supposed. Doubtless, cases have arisen for which it is difficult to account, except on the supposition of such inherent or acquired love of cruelty. Who has not heard of the barbarities of a Caligula and a Nero, and of the zest and joy with which they directed and watched the perpetration of them? And, in our own day, who can hear, without having his feelings lacerated, of the atrocities of such a man as Deftardar, son-in-law of Mahomet Ali, and Governor of Kordofan, in Upper Egypt,—a tyrant, or “human tiger” rather, whose thirst for blood allowed not a single day to pass without its victim—flogging a servant to death simply for taking a pinch out of his snuff box—blowing a peasant from the mouth of a cannon, merely for complaining that a soldier has robbed him of sheep—ordering iron horse-shoes to be nailed into the feet of his domestics for respectfully hinting at some of their felt wants;—in a word, a monster, who was “quite a genius in the invention of new tortures, and seldom failed to impart a character of novelty to each succeeding execution?” Poets, also, in singing of battles and bloody frays, have noted “a ruffian thirst for blood” as among the various motives that fired the strife.” And Historians have gravely recorded the experience of warriors, in other respects chivalrous and humane, who were at times conscious of a strange and “undefined pleasure in carnage.” The desperate torments inflicted by savage tribes often baffle and confound us; as well as the proceedings of popish inquisitors and all the myrmidons of relentless persecution. The records of Lunatic Asylums acquaint us with forms of madness, in which the unhappy subjects have been seized with an incontrollable fury—an insatiable propensity to mischief, cruelty, and destruction—and an apparent delight in pain, suffering, and death. To these might be added the pains and the agonies involved in the pastimes of the chase, the investigations of physiologists conducted amid the cut and parted nerves of quivering and tortured animals, and the thousand other modes in which cruelty is unquestionably manifested. But, whatever may be alleged of the cases of particular individuals, whose disposition to cruelty may be inseparably connected with mental or moral insanity, it cannot be doubted, that, in the majority of instances in which cruelty is clearly involved, it is not the naked love of cruelty, for cruelty’s sake, which constitutes the actuating cause. If time and space permitted, it would be easy to shew, that though the reality of cruelty be there, and its outward symptoms be patent to the senses, the pain and the suffering may not be the immediate object of the faculties of the mind, or the desires of the heart. Revenge, ambition, the love of fame, the fervency of a false zeal, the excitements of an exhilarating exercise, the pleasures of science, and the panting after brilliant discoveries;—these, these, and such like feelings and emotions of the soul, are the true causes that fix and absorb its attention exclusively on the objects of their own gratification—the real impellent forces that hurry it on, at all hazards, and at the cost of every sacrifice, to the attainment of their proper ends—the over-mastering energies, which, in their onward career, overpower, if they do not extinguish, its finer emotions and kindlier sensibilities. In all such cases, cruelty is not the direct object of the mind’s attention, or the heart’s desire and delight. Rather, it is lightly passed by, as a venial offence, because of its undesired but unavoidable connection with the attainment of other ends; or, perhaps, the infliction of it is wholly unheeded, amid the pursuit of more engrossing objects—the rush of more vehement desires—and the exuberance of more exciting joys. So comparatively rare a phenomenon is cruelty, for cruelty’s sake, that Milton, with his usual consummate judgment, represents Satan as loath to exhibit a disposition so utterly fiendlike—preferring to attribute his seducement of our first parents to his determination to be revenged on God, and the necessities of his hellish policy, rather than to any positive delight in their destruction and misery. On beholding them so lovely, innocent and happy in the bowers of paradise, he thus gives vent to the conflicting emotions of his troubled spirit:—
But, be all this as it may, what we are chiefly concerned with, is to know and be assured that, whatever amount of actual cruelty may be involved in the horrid practice of Rajput infanticide, and to whatever cause it may be fairly ascribed, it is not to aught so Satanic as a sheer love of cruelty. It is not possible for any one who peruses the elaborate, but somewhat tedious Annals of Rajasthan, by Col. Tod, to doubt this. That cruelty exists to a fearful extent is but too evident. But it exists, as in numberless other cases, not because of any positive love for it; but because of the absence of certain principles, and the presence of others, sufficiently potent to account for an utter regardlessness of it.
How, then, are we to account for it? Does it arise from a total destitution of maternal affection—or that love of offspring—that attachment to their young, which, as it is totally distinct from benevolence or any other of the higher sentiments, is common to human beings with the lower animals? We have no reason to think so. It is true that this is a feeling or instinctive propensity, which, like every other feeling, propensity, or higher faculty, whether intellectual or moral, exists in very different degrees among different individuals, and even different tribes or communities. It is also true that particular cases have occurred in which the feeling seemed scarcely to exist. We are told of a lady, at Vienna, “who loved her husband tenderly, and who managed the concerns of her household with intelligence and activity, but who sent from home, as soon as they saw the light, all the nine children to whom she successively gave birth, and for years never asked to see them—that, being somewhat ashamed of this indifference, and being unable to account for it herself, she insisted upon her husband seeing them every day and taking charge of their education.” History has also recorded instances of mothers, who, as in the case of the mother of the poet Savage, “conceived an unaccountable and seemingly causeless hatred against their own offspring, and who persecuted them with relentless severity.” But the comparative rarity of all such cases proves them to be exceptions from the general rule of the all but universal existence of the parental feeling; even as cases of deafness or blindness are but exceptions from the general rule of the all but universality of the endowments of vision and hearing. All observation goes to satisfy us that the love of offspring is more than ordinarily strong among Hindu mothers, viewed in their aggregate or national capacity. Even the mournful annals of Rajput infanticide furnish sufficient evidence to prove, that,—however much it may be kept in abeyance by other considerations, or however much it may be overborne by other more active impulses,—it is by no means extinct in the breast of the Rajputni mother. In the striking case of a Jharija chief, which was subjected to judicial investigation, it was clearly brought out in evidence, that, while the mother, in obedience to a tyrannous custom, made no effort to preserve her child, she was observed to weep bitterly, saying, that her “fate was a hard one;”—and, being found still crying on the second day after delivery, she confessed it was because her babe “had been murdered.” And if the shroud of impenetrable secrecy, in which every such scene has hitherto been enveloped, were torn aside, who can tell how much of the genuine relentings of nature might be found mixed up with the cruelties of a barbarous usage? In other cases, mothers, giving way to the gushings of parental affection, have been known to plead, and plead successfully too, for the life of their new-born babes. An affecting instance of this description is related by Mr. Wilkinson.—“Apji Hárá Jagírdár of Koila, and a near heir to the throne of Kotah, had destroyed several of his daughters. The last that was born to him was preserved by the maternal affection of his lady. When the child was born and announced to be a girl, the Thakur issued the order for its immediate destruction. The mother interceded. The proud Thakur indignantly repeated his order, that the madár juice be forthwith administered to the innocent babe. The mother still besought for the infant’s life. The day happened to be the anniversary of the birth of Krishna, the tutelary Deity of the Haras. ‘For Sri Krishnaji’s sake spare the innocent babe,’ cried the fond mother, ‘oh pollute not this sacred day by the commission of so black a sin.’ The Thakur relented, and this single daughter of the house of Koila lives to bless the name of Krishna.” And in those cases in which parents were persuaded to spare their children, the parental feeling, uncoiled from all entanglements, soon manifested itself. When Col. Walker visited the station of Dherole, and summoned into his presence those who had yielded to his humane suggestions, he remarks, that “it was extremely gratifying on this occasion to observe the triumph of nature and parental affection, over prejudice and a horrid superstition; and that those who, but a short period before, would, as many of them had done, have doomed their infants to destruction without compunction, should now glory in their preservation, and doat on them with fondness.” Still, it ought to be remembered that, even where the maternal affection decidedly exists, it admits, like every other original feeling or tendency of the human mind, of being contracted or expanded—depressed or elevated—crushed or developed—according to the geniality or uncongeniality of surrounding circumstances. Probably it is weakest, in most eases, at the very hour of birth. The general prostration of strength usually renders any vivid manifestation of it, or of any other primordial feeling or power, impossible. It is a feeling, too, which the subsequent wants and weakness and helplessness,—the watching and the nourishing, not less than the little endearments and winning smiles, tend powerfully to strengthen and mature. Hence the supposed language of a mother in directing the father’s attention to her babe newly awakening from its slumbers:—
It is natural to conjecture, that an experimental knowledge of the fact so touchingly represented in these lines, has had much more to do with the invariable practice of destroying infants the instant they are born, than the alleged sinlessness of the deed at the hour of birth, and its admitted sinfulness a few days after. It must be patent to the common sense of the dullest and most obtuse, that the criminality of the act depends not in any way on the element of age, whether longer or shorter, but solely on the fact—the bare and naked fact—of cruelly and causelessly taking away innocent life at all. And it could not escape the most sluggish apprehension, that the life of a living babe, an hour old, is as real and substantive an entity in kind, as the life of a child, days, or months, or years old. Experience, therefore, could not fail to teach the prudence of immediately making away with the child, before the parental feeling had time to rally, develope itself, and gather strength. For then, the perpetration of the deed might be accompanied with such agonizing pain, or even remorse, as might render the general execution, or frequent repetition of it, morally impossible,
If, then, the commission of the crime cannot fairly be attributed to any innate love of cruelty or to any radical destitution of the parental affection, to what motive, influence, or cause are we to ascribe it? Does it owe its origin to gross and perverted notions of religion, which, whether true or false, has always exercised the mightiest and most lasting influence on the mind of man and the destiny of nations? Has it sprung from the imperious dictation of a sanguinary superstition, which,—transforming, in its ignorance and under the impulse of its guilty fears, the bland and benignant aspect of a gracious God into features that bespeak nought to the trembling votaries, but the frowns of cruelty and revenge,—prompts the deluded parent to offer “his first born for his transgression, the fruit of his body, for the sin of his soul?” As regards the Rajput tribes generally there is no evidence whatever to prove this to be the case. The wild hill tribe of Minas is the only one that pretends to plead any thing like divine authority for the commission of the crime. Of them the Political Agent at Kach, 1833, remarks, that they are “distinguished from the rest by their very general observance of what they regard as the command of heaven to destroy their female children.” “The Minas,” says Mr. Wilkinson, “have a tradition, inculcating the duty and propriety of destroying their daughters; and adduce divine authority in favour of the practice.” Again, “They plead in justification of the practice, the authority of a Sati, who commanded the practice on ascending the pile, and of the goddess Bhauwani herself who enjoined it.” And to shew that this was no idle theory—no mere abstract inoperative dogma—Mr. W. relates the following incident:—“As I was riding out one morning,” says he, “accompanied with Lieut. C., I passed through the Bundi Mina village of Umur. I was there beset by the cries of a Mina woman, who clamorously demanded of me to forbear all endeavours to procure the suppression of an ancient custom, and a religious rite, enjoined upon them by divine authority. When I endeavoured to reconcile the unfeeling woman, she boldly averred, that daughters in their tribe had been foretold to bring, if preserved, only trouble and misfortune to their families, and that the event could not be but calamitous.” But, even as regards this tribe, the probability is, that the appeal to the sanction, or patronage, or command of Deity is an after-thought—an ex post facto reason,—suggested by the lamentable frequency of the all but incredible sacrifice, and designed at once to screen, palliate, or efface its enormity, and silence or wholly prevent the clamours of conscience. Thus it was with the Greeks and Romans, who, not satisfied with fastening the dishonour on any of the existing deities, coined and fabricated a new one, under the appropriate designation of Infanticida. But, be this at it may, none of the Rajput tribes profess to extenuate their conduct under an appeal similar to that of the Minas. On the contrary, Col. Tod positively testifies, that, “although custom sanctions and religion rewards, a Sati, the victim to marital selfishness, yet, to the honour of humanity, neither traditionary adage nor religious text can be quoted in support of a practice so revolting as infanticide.” Yea, more than this;—they themselves unequivocally admit that their own shastras, instead of favouring, do, with more than ordinary emphasis, condemn the practice as one of aggravated criminality, and one which, consequently, must entail an aggravated condemnation. In a style, singularly characteristic of the genius of Hinduism, it is said to be declared in one of the Purans, “that killing even a foetus is as criminal as killing a Brahman; and that for killing a female or woman, the punishment is to suffer in the narak, or hell, called Kat Sutal for as many years as there are hairs on that female’s body; and that, afterwards, that person shall be born again, and successively become a leper, and be afflicted with the Jakhima.” And from another of the Shastras a sloke is often quoted to this effect:—
All this accords with the actual observation and experience of Mr. Wilkinson, who declares it as “fortunate for the cause of humanity,” that the Rajputs “do not plead any religious sanction or authority, in any way, in defence of their barbarity. They all admit that it is a crime, and a crime even of a heinous nature. In such light the Hindu Shastras always speak of it.” Moreover, “when a Rajput murders his infant daughter, he is so far conscious of having incurred sin as to believe some expiation necessary. The poverty and brutalized hardihood of the Rajputs has reduced this expiation to the Sidha Sarrimyam, or a single meal of flour to the family purohit or priest.”
It thus appears, that the practice of infanticide prevails, in the absence of any innately cruel disposition; in spite of one of the strongest instincts of sentient being, the love of offspring; and in contravention of one of the most binding obligations, that which is enforced by the rewards and retributions of religion. Our inquiry, therefore, may conveniently assume this form:—What cause or causes can be found, sufficiently powerful to keep in abeyance, overmaster, or temporarily suppress one of the strongest of instincts and one of the most binding of obligations?
Some of the causes alleged wear a legendary aspect, and are self-evidently aprocryphal; or, even if allowed to be authentic, must be regarded as altogether inadequate to account for the phenomena. Of this description is the following, narrated by Col. Walker:—“The Jharijas relate, that a powerful Rajah of their caste, who had a daughter of singular beauty and accomplishments, desired his rajgor or family Brahman, to affiance her to a prince of desert and rank equal to her own. The rajgor travelled over many countries without discovering a chief possessed of the requisite qualities. In this dilemma the Rajah consulted his rajgor, and he advised him to avoid the disgrace which would attend the princess’s remaining unmarried, by having recourse to the desperate expedient of putting his daughter to death. The Rajah was long averse to this expedient. The rajgor at length removed his scruples, by consenting to load himself with the guilt, and to become, in his own person, responsible for all the consequences of the sin! Accordingly, the princess was put to death, and female infanticide was, from that time, practiced by the Jharijas.”
Other causes have been alleged, which, whether allowed to be authentic or not, never could account for the prevalence of the practice in all its extent and permanence. Of these the following may be taken as the most favorable specimen:—“It is said that one of the early Mussalman invaders of the Jharijas’ country, who experienced the determination with which they defended their liberties, united policy to arms, and sought to consolidate their interests in the country, by demanding the daughters of the Rajahs in marriage. The high spirited Jharijas could not brook the disgrace, and pretended they did not preserve their daughters; but fearful of the consequences, and that force would be resorted to in order to obtain what was refused to entreaty, they listened to the advice of their rajgor in this extremity, and, deluded by the fictitious responsibility which they accepted, the practice of infanticide originated, and has since been confirmed.”
But, leaving the region of fable and doubtful conjecture, we may at once proceed to state, on the unanimous concurrent testimony of European and Native authorities, that the real causes may be resolved into two leading generic ones, viz. the difficulty in procuring suitable matches for their daughters, were they allowed to grow up, coupled with the supposed disgrace of their remaining unmarried, and the difficulty of defraying the marriage expenses which immemorial usage had sanctioned.
Whence, it may next be asked, does the difficulty of procuring suitable matches and of defraying the marriage expenditure arise?
As regards the former, a few sentences may explain it. In the first place, intermarriage, according to Col. Tod’s statement, is prohibited “not only between families of the same clan, but between those of the same tribe; and though centuries may have intervened since their separation, and branches thus transplanted may have lost their patronymic, they can never be engrafted on the original stem: for instance, though eight centuries have separated the two grand subdivisions of the Gehlotes, and the younger, the Seesodia, has superseded the elder, the Aharya, each ruling distinct States, a marriage between any of the branches would be deemed incestuous: the Seesodia is yet brother to the Aharya, and regards every female of the race as his sister: every tribe has, therefore, to look abroad, and to a race distinct from its own, for suitors for the females.” In the second place, in looking abroad for suitors, the laws of caste do not allow them to go beyond the Rajput races, or those who, through lines more or less direct, profess to trace their genealogies to the Sun and the Moon. But, though all the tribes claim this high descent, all are not equally noble. The more direct lines are of course the noblest; while the less direct lines with their various collateral and subordinate branches, possess gradations of rank that are endlessly and capriciously diversified. And no tribe of superior rank, that is, superior in its own estimation, or in that of the community at large, will ordinarily allow its blood to be deteriorated by inter-marriage with another inferior to itself. Here also regard for purity of lineage takes different directions. Some tribes will accept in marriage the daughters of Rajputs that are deemed superior, though they will not give their own daughters in marriage to them. In other cases again, this practice is exactly reversed; they will give but will not take. In the third place if the temptations to infanticide be great, in proportion to the pretensions of any tribe on the score of honour, these are still more enhanced and multiplied in the case of those that are “out of the pale of feudalism, and subjected to powers not Rajput, from the increased pressure of the cause which gave it birth, and the difficulty of establishing their daughters in wedlock.” In the fourth place, the obstacles are vastly augmented, should there be, not merely inferiority of rank and remoteness of position, but also a contracted taint or impurity of blood. To this cause, chiefly, Col. Tod attributes the almost universality of the practice among the Jharijas. These, according to him, “were Rajputs, a subdivision of the Yadus; but, by inter-marriage with the Muhammadans, to whose faith they became proselytes, they lost their caste. Political causes have disunited them from the Muhammadans, and they desire again to be considered as pure Rajputs; but having been contaminated, no Rajput (of superior rank) will inter-marry with them. The owner of a hyde of land, whether Seesodia, Rhator, or Chohan would spurn the hand of a Jharija princess. Can the ‘sic volo’ be applied to men who reason in this fashion?” It is natural that the Jharijas themselves should represent the matter in a form less unfavourable to their lofty claims. A Jharija, when interrogated on the subject, promptly replied, “Where have we an equal to whom to be bestowed in marriage?” Accordingly, the Bombay Government, in a letter to the Court of Directors, from the statements laid before them, remark, that “the chief motive with the Jharijas to the commission of infanticide is the pride which leads them to consider the other tribes of Rajputs unworthy of receiving their daughters in marriage; and as no Rajput can marry a female of his own tribe, they prefer putting them to death, to the prospect of dishonour which is likely to result from their living in a single state.”
The difficulty connected with the marriage expenditure operates as widely, and, if possible, with still more fatal influence than the former. It is a prominent and never failing ingredient in every.statement which has been put forth by competent Natives and Europeans on the subject. By what is the expenditure occasioned? In some cases, there are tribes that will not condescend, from an overweening idea of their own importance, to receive the females of certain other tribes, as wives, without obtaining a very large dowry along with them. Inability to advance the marriage portion demanded, prompts to the commission of crime, as an alternative preferable in the estimate of the Rajput, to the dreaded dishonour and degradation of an unequal alliance. In other cases, “the sums were payable by the male side, ever unalterable, equal to the rich and the poor. What first established the payment is unknown; but it was so sacred, inviolable, and even a partial deviation so disgraceful, that the most necessitous of the tribe would not incur the imputation. Hence arose infanticide. The sums payable were beyond the means of so many, that daughters necessarily remained on hand after maturity, entailed disgrace, and thus imposed a necessity on all female progeny of becoming victims to their family honour.” Another very general cause is to be found in the inveterate persuasion that all nuptials must be celebrated on a scale of magnificence, prescribed by hereditary usage, and proportioned to the real or supposed rank of the contracting parties. To abate aught of this nuptial profusion and extravagance, would be to acknowledge a decline of fortune, and a virtual lapse into an inferior grade or rank. And rather than brook this imaginary disgrace the innocent must suffer, to obviate the necessity of providing for them, and prevent too palpable an exposure of the curtailment of family resource and ancient renown.
But, by far the most general and characteristic source of expenditure is to be found in the exorbitant demands of Bhats and Charans, on the celebration of marriages. From Sir John Malcolm we learn, that the Rajputs in general “pay comparatively little attention to Brahmans—that a holy man of this tribe has a share of their respect and veneration, but their priests are the Charans and Bhats, who, to the direction of their superstitious devotions, add the office of chronicler of their cherished fame and that of their ancestors. These classes have rank as the genealogists of proud and ignorant chiefs, but more favoured individuals combine with that office the station of counsellors, and establish an ascendancy over the mind of their lord, which is stronger from being grounded on a mysterious feeling of awe. Both Charans and Bhats boast of celestial origin. The former are divided into two tribes—merchants and bards. These latter apply their skill to the genealogy of tribes, and to the recital of numerous legends, usually in verse, which celebrated the praises of former heroes, which it is their duty to chaunt to gratify the pride, and rouse the emulation, of their descendants. The Bhats, as chroniclers, or bards, share offices with the Charans. They praise and give fame in their songs to those who are liberal to them, while they visit those who neglect or injure them with satires in which they are reproached with spurious birth and inherent meanness. Sometimes the Bhat, if very seriously offended, fixes the figure of the person he desires to degrade on a long pole, and appends to it a slipper as a mark of disgrace. In such cases the song of the Bhat records the infamy of the object of his revenge. This image usually travels the country, till the party or his friends purchase with money the cessation of the ridicule and curses thus entailed. It is not deemed in these countries within the power of the first ruler, much less any other, to stop a Bhat, or even punish him for such a proceeding. He is protected by that superstitious and religious awe, which when general among a people, controls even despotism.” Now, for ages, it has been the established custom for Bhats and Charans, not only to attend and be regaled at all marriage festivities, but also to be dismissed, laden with pecuniary and other gifts, corresponding to the rank and reputed wealth of the entertainer. If their expectations or demands, on these occasions, remain unsatisfied, they bitterly reproach the recusant Rajputs, and write satires against them which they circulate throughout all the cities and towns of the country. To avert so disastrous a calamity, what sacrifices will not the proud and haughty Rajput be ready to make? But scarcely any amouut of sacrifice is sufficient to meet all the claims preferred. These bards, minstrels, chroniclers and genealogists “pour forth,” says Col. Tod, “their epithalamiums in praise of the virtue of liberality. The bardais are the grand recorders of fame, and the volume of precedent is always recurred to, in citing the liberality of former chiefs; while the dread of their satire (literally, poison) shuts the eyes of the chiefs to consequences, and they are only anxious to maintain the reputations of their ancestors, though fraught with future ruin. ‘The Dahima emptied his coffers (says Chund, the pole-star of the Rajputs) on the marriage of his daughter with Pirthirjaj; but he filled them with the praises of mankind.’ The same bard retails every article of these dowers, which thus became precedents for future ages; and the lac passao then established for the chief Cardai, has become a model to posterity. Even now, the Rana of Udaipur, in his season of poverty, at the recent marriage of his daughter, bestowed ‘the gift of a lac,’ on the chief bard; though the articles of gold, horses, clothes, &c. were included in the estimate, and at undue valuation, which rendered the gift not quite so precious as in the days of the Chohan.” In like manner, Capt. Ludlow, Political Agent, at Jaudpur or Marwar, reports, that “upon occasions of an unexpected confluence of this class, their exactions have sometimes amounted to three-fourths of the year’s income—and that the estates thus became involved in debt and difficulty, which for a season of course threw insurmountable difficulties in the way of future marriages in the same family.” To the same effect, but with still greater particularity, the Jaudpur Vakeel states, that “there are perhaps twenty thousand Charans within the limits of Marwar. On occasions of nuptial ceremonies in the families of the principal nobles of the state, as many as four thousand, or even five thousand, assembled; and it became a difficult task to satisfy the demands of such a host. One or two Charans coming from a village, uniformly brought with them barbers, washermen, and others in number about twenty, all of whom they wrote down as Charans. When portions were distributed, it was the practice for the masters to retain what had been received on account of these persons, who in reality were only entitled to partake of the marriage feast. From these causes, marriages in families of Thakurs (persons of rank) became a great source of expenditure; nay, the Charans refused to go away unless their demands were satisfied, and they were capable of perpetrating various acts of coercion through violent conduct, or the utterance of abusive language; and thus it was placed beyond the power of the Thakurs to resist their demands.” Both the Vakeel and Colonel Sutherland relate an extreme instance of the extortionate demands of these insatiable harpies, because of its date being recent and the belief in it universal:—“Nahur Khan, the Thakur of Ashop, at the time of the nuptial ceremony of his daughter, made a vow that he would, during a whole year, deliver to the Charans what they might demand of him. He accordingly satisfied the claims of all comers; some obtained a horse, others articles of clothing, cash, bracelets of gold, strings of pearls. At length all was gone, and the year was not yet expired, when a Charan came, and finding the Thakur’s substance exhausted, demanded of him his head, upon which, in fulfilment of his vow, he severed it from his body with his own sword. From this cause, the descendants of the house have, from the time in question, destroyed their daughters at their birth.” So severely and extensively is the scourge felt that the Vakeel goes the extreme length of affirming that “female infanticide among the Rajputs, which has existed from time immemorial, originated in the heavy demands made upon them at marriages of their daughters by the Charans.”
From all this we gather, that the general rule, applicable alike to all the tribes composing the Rajput community, is, that whenever and wherever there is no reasonable prospect of obtaining suitable marriages for daughters, or of defraying the customary nuptial expenses, there and then, must the life of the female infant be considered as forfeited. Now, it requires no stretch of ingenuity—no subtlety of analyis—to discover, that the real root of the whole difficulty, in both these respects, is Pride—pride, in one or other of its varied modifications—pride, with its kindred ally, false honour—pride, vastly more soaring and extravagant than any ever generated by the feudalism and chivalry of demi-barbaric Europe. For, what is pride? It is that state of mind which has been not unhappily defined “the illegitimate offspring of complacency violated by self-love.” Or, to express the matter more plainly, it is that feeling, affection, or emotion of the soul which springs from erroneous or exaggerated conceptions of ourselves—our state or condition, our talents or acquirements, our rank or possessions, our sayings or doings—or, in short, any thing unduly magnified and prized in which we may have directly or indirectly a personal interest. In the case of the Rajputs the chief source of their towering pride, is that of family descent. They believe themselves to be so many royal races—bearing the stamp of an incredible antiquity—and exhibiting a nobility of lineage, such as is not to be matched in all the world besides. When a Rajput casts his eye along the roll of past ages, he sees, or what is the same thing, fancies he sees, a long and unbroken line of ancestry—an ancestry, distinguished by god-like qualities and heroic deeds, that blaze through the ancient epochs and classic realms of Indian song with an effulgence of surpassing glory. And as he gazes with wondering admiration at the mighty personages that flit across the brilliant horizon of his vision,—and contemplates, with excited interest, the awe-inspiring scenes in which they shone so pre-eminently,—he is led, with unquestioning faith, to view himself as still one of their genuine descendants and representatives, amid these latter days of eclipse and degeneracy. The view transports him beyond all reasonable bounds. He instantly feels as if their very being were mingled and interblended with his—as if their honoured country were his country—their exalted rank and dignity, his rank and dignity—their unrivalled achievements, his achievements;—in a word, as if the very splendour of their glory and renown were reflected with undiminished radiance on himself! His self-elation—his pride—now swells, till, speedily exceeding all ordinary dimensions, its head is lost in the clouds. The real question is not, whether the whole of this gorgeous superstructure be not as devoid of solidity above, or foundation underneath, as the fantastic towers and battlements of a dream. It may be, and, in our view, truly is, as utterly baseless as “the fabric of a vision.” But what of that, if,—from immemorial tradition, hereditary faith, and the sacred annals of the State,—it be, in the view of the Rajput, the chiefest and most precious of all realities? To one who thinks thus loftily, feels thus fervently, believes thus intensely, how natural, though fallacious and melancholy, are the practical conclusions to which he is led! Under the predominant influence of excessive pride, the master-passion thus generated, the lordly aristocratic Rajput,—rather than brook the fancied disgrace of unequal alliances, and thereby break the line, by contaminating the blood, of so noble a descent,—will quench the very instincts of his nature and doom to death his unoffending offspring! Rather than brook the fancied disgrace of celebrating a daughter’s nuptials in a style of pomp and magnificence disproportioned to his lofty pretensions, he will extinguish a life which, if preserved, would load him, when living, with the caresses of fondest affection, and follow him when dead, with the flowers and offerings of a filial and grateful remembrance! Rather than brook the fancied disgrace of having his name sullied and his honour tarnished by the silence or dispraise of bards and genealogists, whose favourable verdict must be purchased at a rate of liberality that would plunge him into irretrievable poverty and distress, he will steel his heart against the yearnings of parental love, and deface these “climes of the sun” with the systematic commission of one of the foulest and most unnatural of crimes!
Having thus briefly noticed the nature and extent, the causes and the instruments of the Rajput system of Infanticide, it is well to pause and note its extreme singularity—its absolute uniqueness. Other tribes and nations have been, or still are, deeply stained with the guilt of shedding innocent blood; and all of them plead their own specific reasons in justification. Did the ancient Spartans consign all children that were weak or sickly or deformed to destruction? It was because, for the sake of preserving its liberty and independence, the state demanded that all its citizens should be trained up as hardy warriors. Were the ancient Arabians often accustomed to bury their daughters alive? It was, in cases of sudden emergency and surprize, to prevent their falling captive into the hands of a hated foe. Do the women of China and Japan often suffocate, and that to a frightful extent, the tender babes at the breast? It is under the plea of hunger or threatened starvation. Is it the invariable practice of the inhabitants of Greenland and New Holland to commit the sucking infant to the same tomb with the deceased mother? It is on account of the difficulty, in regions so sterile, or where the means of subsistence are so prePage:The Calcutta Review (1844), Volume 1.djvu/414 more horrid than those infernal rites and sacrifices?” Thus has the parental affection been overpowered by superior impulses, arising from the teeming brood of ignorance with its mistaken tenderness, and lust with its riotous excesses, and physical want with its indurating appliances, and superstition with its relentless cravings. But it was reserved for the high-souled and chivalrous tribes of Rajasthan, to exhibit to the world a spectacle of wholesale destruction continued from age to age—a system rather, by which it is demonstrable that millions and millions of female children have prematurely perished! Perished!—how? By the famine that pines in empty stalls, or the pestilence that walketh at noon-day? No. That were, in some measure, a merciful death; as it would be by the righteous, though severe, ordination of an all-wise Providence. How then?—amid the remorseless atrocities of barbaric warfare? No. That, too, were comparatively a natural death, as it would be inflicted by the hands of an enemy exasperated by deadly hate. How then?—and when? In times of peace, when the trumpet hangs quietly in the hall, as well as when it peals the shout of battle;—in times of plenty, when earth, air, and ocean, fling stores of affluence from their teeming bosoms;—amid the retirements of home, amid the stillness of domestic privacy, have the thousands of hecatombs of helpless innocents been cruelly sacrificed!—sacrificed!—massacred!—butchered! Butchered by whom?—By the midnight assassin, wielding the Indian scalping knife and savage tomahawk? No, no. Let humanity shudder! They are the mothers,—the unhappy mothers,—who, in the name of false honour, demon pride, and hereditary fictions connected with rank and purity of lineage, have no compassion on the fruit of their own womb—who embrue their hands in the blood of their new-born babes! Surely, surely this must be the very consummation of the triumph of the great Adversary over poor, ruined, infatuated man! Who would not desire to remove such ignorance,—alleviate such wretchedness? Who would not desire to stem such torrents of blood,—seal up such yawning graves? Who would not desire to wipe away such a reproach from the empire of Britain,—extirpate such foul pollution and guilt from the earth,—annihilate such monuments of the supremacy of the prince of darkness? Tell us, ye British mothers, who have fondled your smiling babes, and clasped them to your bosoms, as the most precious gifts of heaven, if ever such a tale of woe has sounded in your ears? Surely, were it only possible to cause your ears to ring with but a faint and distant echo of the groans and dying agonies of myriads of infantile victims, that, from year to Page:The Calcutta Review (1844), Volume 1.djvu/416 in future. For this end they were induced to enter into a solemn written engagement. Subsequently, in the year 1795, a Regulation was passed by the Supreme Government, to the effect, that within the British Territories, infanticide must be judicially dealt with as wilful murder;—in other words, that “any person taking the life of his own child will be punished by the law as if he or she committed murder on a grown up person.” In 1808, in Kattiawar, Western India, Col. Walker entered fully on the philanthropic undertaking with sanguine expectations of success. He very naturally “conceived that reason and feeling would effect the relinquishment of a barbarous custom unconnected with the principles of Society; and which all the passions of the human mind, and all the forms and maxims of religion, were combined to destroy.” But he soon found, to his sore regret, that “sentiments of nature and humanity had no influence with the Jharijas;” and he felt himself, “however reluctantly, obliged to relinquish the favourable expectations he had formed of success.” Still, his ardour in the good cause being unquenchable, he persevered in his course of argument and persuasion with some of the leading chiefs. He appealed to every imaginable motive of humanity, morality, and religion. For a long period of time, it was “the daily subject of letters, messages, and conferences.” At length he bethought him of a change of tactics. “The humanity and tenderness congenial to the sex,” says Col. Walker, “induced me to expect the assistance of the women of Jehaji (the chief of Murvi’s) family. The preservation of their offspring appeared peculiarly their business. I conceived that my appeal to wives and mothers, and women who came from tribes who rejected infanticide, would be attended with every advantage. I was farther led to entertain great hopes of this plan, on account of the high character of the mother of the chief, for prudence, propriety of conduct, and a benevolent disposition. My overtures to this lady were, at first, received with the feelings natural to her sex; and she seemed disposed, with the rest of the women, who held several consultations together on the subject to unite their influence for the abolition of infanticide. But these ebullitions were of short duration; the Jharijas were alarmed, and the women contended for the ancient privilege of the caste: they were led away from the path of nature by the influence of their husbands. The mother of the chief of Murvi requested that she might be excused soliciting her son on this head, and referred me for farther information to Jehaji.” At this period, the Colonel confesses, that his prospect of success was “very obscure and distant.” But his brave spirit was not to be daunted. With increasing earnestness did he labour, in public and in private, to expose the enormity of the practice, “as contrary to the precepts of religion and the dictates of nature”—bringing, at the same time, the whole weight of his personal and official influence to bear on its abolition. Nor did he labour in vain. A gracious providence overruled his benevolent efforts. As the fruit of his burning zeal and indomitable perseverance, “a deed of the most solemn, effectual, and binding nature was executed,” before the close of 1808, and subscribed by most of the Jharija chiefs “renouncing for ever the practice of infanticide.” This deed, after admitting that the practice was a great offence and transgression against the divine law, thus concluded,—“We do hereby agree for ourselves and our offspring, as also we bind ourselves in behalf of our relations and their offspring for ever, for the sake of our own prosperity, and for the credit of the Hindu faith, that we shall from this day renounce this practice, and, in doubt of this, that we acknowledge ourselves offenders against the Sircars (the British and the Guikwar Governments). Moreover, should any one in future commit this offence we shall expel him from our caste, and he shall be punished according to the pleasure of the two Governments, and the rule of the Shastras.”
Thus, in the east and the west, was it fondly supposed that the practice was wholly extirpated. The double triumph of the cause of humanity, among the different and distant tribes of Rajkumars and Jharijas, was hailed with unbounded satisfaction and delight. So shocked and horrified were the minds of men by the discovery of so revolting a system, that they seized with avidity the first symptoms of a return to the path of right reason and right feeling.
The treaties, signed by the chiefs, were regarded as conclusive evidence of contrition for the past and amendment for the future; while the names of Duncan and Walker were deservedly enrolled in the bright catalogue of this world’s most honoured benefactors. The battle having been fought, and the victory supposed to be gained, and the champions crowned with honor, it was naturally believed that all might sit down quietly to enjoy the fruits of the conquest with feelings unharrowed, and peace of mind undisturbed. So undoubting, so absolute, was the general conviction of the completeness of the triumph! Major Moor dedicates his great work on the Hindu Pantheon to Mr. Duncan, Governor of Bombay, as the individual to whom humanity was indebted for “the voluntary abolition of that extraordinary practice, Infanticide; formerly and lately so unhappily prevalent among some misguided classes, both in the East and West of India.” “Thousands of infants,” says he, “owe a continuation Page:The Calcutta Review (1844), Volume 1.djvu/419 Page:The Calcutta Review (1844), Volume 1.djvu/420 Page:The Calcutta Review (1844), Volume 1.djvu/421 Page:The Calcutta Review (1844), Volume 1.djvu/422 Page:The Calcutta Review (1844), Volume 1.djvu/423 Page:The Calcutta Review (1844), Volume 1.djvu/424 Page:The Calcutta Review (1844), Volume 1.djvu/425 Page:The Calcutta Review (1844), Volume 1.djvu/426 Page:The Calcutta Review (1844), Volume 1.djvu/427 Page:The Calcutta Review (1844), Volume 1.djvu/428 Page:The Calcutta Review (1844), Volume 1.djvu/429 Page:The Calcutta Review (1844), Volume 1.djvu/430 Page:The Calcutta Review (1844), Volume 1.djvu/431 Page:The Calcutta Review (1844), Volume 1.djvu/432 Page:The Calcutta Review (1844), Volume 1.djvu/433 Page:The Calcutta Review (1844), Volume 1.djvu/434 Page:The Calcutta Review (1844), Volume 1.djvu/435 Page:The Calcutta Review (1844), Volume 1.djvu/436 Page:The Calcutta Review (1844), Volume 1.djvu/437 Page:The Calcutta Review (1844), Volume 1.djvu/438 Page:The Calcutta Review (1844), Volume 1.djvu/439 Page:The Calcutta Review (1844), Volume 1.djvu/440 Page:The Calcutta Review (1844), Volume 1.djvu/441 Page:The Calcutta Review (1844), Volume 1.djvu/442 Page:The Calcutta Review (1844), Volume 1.djvu/443 Page:The Calcutta Review (1844), Volume 1.djvu/444 Page:The Calcutta Review (1844), Volume 1.djvu/445 Page:The Calcutta Review (1844), Volume 1.djvu/446 Page:The Calcutta Review (1844), Volume 1.djvu/447 Page:The Calcutta Review (1844), Volume 1.djvu/448 Page:The Calcutta Review (1844), Volume 1.djvu/449 Page:The Calcutta Review (1844), Volume 1.djvu/450 Page:The Calcutta Review (1844), Volume 1.djvu/451 Page:The Calcutta Review (1844), Volume 1.djvu/452 Page:The Calcutta Review (1844), Volume 1.djvu/453 Page:The Calcutta Review (1844), Volume 1.djvu/454 Page:The Calcutta Review (1844), Volume 1.djvu/455 Page:The Calcutta Review (1844), Volume 1.djvu/456 Page:The Calcutta Review (1844), Volume 1.djvu/457 Page:The Calcutta Review (1844), Volume 1.djvu/458