Old Daniel.
by Thomas Hodson.
PREFACE.
I can now, in my mind's eye, see Chickka, the washerman, as if I had met him yesterday; and I can see the mud houses of Singonahully, the mud wall of the village, and the temple of Runga, as if they were all before me. Yet five and thirty years are passed and gone since the afternoon when, in quest of medical aid, I rode past the village, hoping yet to see it the abode of many follower's of Christ, not knowing that I was never to see it more. At that time Chickka was still a heathen. He was then between forty and fifty years of age, a grey-headed, resolute, self-controlled looking man.
At the mission-house of Goobbe we knew Chickka well. He was often present at our family prayer, but gave no signs of any religious conviction; and I cannot remember that he ever expressed more disapproval of idolatry than many did, who to this day have continued in their heathenism. Certainly I had no idea of the processes through which the mind of the washer man had passed. It would have been hard to conceive that one so ignorant and so simple, had as a boy, all untaught, seen as clearly the vanity of idols as well-instructed men could do, and had in his own simple way taken practical and striking steps to convince others of the justice of his views.
In the lifelike narrative of Mr Hodson,--where every touch is that of one who has lived among the people, till their sayings and their doings, their surrounding scenes and modes of thought, are all familiar,--the reader will find a very curious light upon the processes of thought which, in the deepest night of paganism, may be passing in the mind of a labourer's lad who knows not a letter. We may feel assured that similar lights are shining in the darkest places now, and that millions of young minds are being prepared, as was the mind of Chickka, to turn from dumb idols to serve the living and the true God. Even were the incidents detailed in the following pages those only of the life of a single boy, they would be of great interest. But it is not as incidents that give interest to the story of an inward change of one mind, or of the outward windings of one life, but as a sign of what is going on in multitudes, and as a foretoken of the changes that are to come, that the highest interest attaches to such scenes as that of Chickka breaking the serpent-gods, turning the sword-gods into plough-shares, refusing to bow to the idol, or speaking lightly of the great god of the vicinity when his car was burned. Even the procession, which in all forms of idolatry, from that of India to that of Rome, forms an important instrument of public impression, failed to command the feelings of Chickka. How many men in countries where weeping Madonnas are exhibited have been tormented with the same curiosity which seized Chickka on seeing the tears streaming down the cheeks of Mari, the goddess of diseases! But seldom have courage and opportunity combined to carry the inquirer to a conclusion so decisive as that which rewarded the research of the poor washerman's son. I seem now as if I could trace the boy, in the struggling grey of the morning, down the gentle slope, till he reached the tank, found the spot where the idol had been cast into it, and, daring to break its head, laid bare all the mystery of the tears.
That, too, was a step preparing him for the great change when he was to turn to One who is not the work of men's hands, but is the Maker of the mighty and the weak. And the same influences which prepared Chickka, and which eventually changed him into Daniel, are now at work in, I repeat it, millions of minds, where the influences are as much unseen and unsuspected as were at the time those of which the reader will find the account so striking.
Good Edward Hardey, whose words were the first that were sent home to the heart of the washerman with the power that quickens dry corns into sprouting seeds, and good Matthew Trevan Male, who baptized him as the firstfruits unto Christ in Goobbe, are both gone to their rest. Many others who have sowed on that field are also gone. Daniel has ended his course in peace. And still the harvest is not reaped. But the harvest is to come. In such a work delay, disappointment, and the deferring of hope are to be taken as but a call for more faith and more prayer. If the lights struggling in the heathen mind of Chickka were but an example of what is taking place in the minds of many, so also the change by which Chickka became Daniel, the steadfast Christian, was but an example of thousands of thousands that are yet to come. 'Behold, I make all things new,' says He who caused the light to shine out of darkness; and in the Mysore He will yet bring forth a new and glorious creation. In that country, at this present time, a terrible famine is making ravages.
Even that calamity may be overruled for good. At all events it gives fresh emphasis to the call for all followers of Christ to enter in and work for God, where the harvest indeed is plenteous and the labourers are few. It may be that even in times of trial the Spirit will be poured out from on high, and that God will yet gladden with tidings of great joy the hearts of some to whom those fields are unutterably dear, and who have long waited for the full corn in the ear.
W. ARTHUR.
CHAPTER ONE.
DANIEL'S PARENTAGE.
Before Daniel was baptised his name was _Chikkha_, but we will call him Daniel from the beginning to the end of this little memoir. He lived sometimes at Goobbe, and sometimes at Singonahully. Goobbe is a large market town in the kingdom of Mysore, and Singonahully is a small village about two miles from Goobbe. The Wesleyan Mission premises are situated between these two places. If my young readers, for whom this little book is written, will take a large map of India, they will see 'Goobbe,' in Latitude 13 degrees 19 minutes North, and Longitude 77 degrees East. It is fifty-five miles north-west of Bangalore, and about seventy north-east of Seringapatam.
Many years ago,--it is not known exactly how many--a man of the Washerman caste left his native village and came to Singonahully. He brought his family with him, but left behind a box containing an idol and some other sacred things, in charge of the village priest. This man was Daniel's grandfather. In Singonahully he entered into friendly relations with the old village washerman, who was nearly blind, and helped him in his work. In due time one of the blind man's daughters was given in marriage to Daniel's father, whose name was Veera Chickka.
Daniel was born May 4th, 1799, or according to his own phraseology, "I was born on the day Seringapatam was taken by the English." It may here be observed that many of the middle and lower classes of the Hindoos do not keep any correct record of the time when their children are born, so that if no event of importance happens about that time, there is generally no means of ascertaining the age of anyone in such families.
Daniel's father was always a poor man, so that his son was never sent to school; and he was never able either to read or to write; but, when quite a child, he manifested a very clear judgment in many things, and especially in the view he took as to the worship of idols.
CHAPTER TWO.
DANIEL'S FIRST PROTEST AGAINST IDOLATRY.
One day when Daniel was about ten years old, and living with his father in Goobbe, a relation of the family came from Toomcoor, on what, to him, was a very important matter; and he said to Daniel's father, "Well, Veera Chickka, your father shut up our goddess in a box and left it, in his village, in care of the temple priest, and there she now remains.
The goddess has had no worship paid her from that time to this; she is angry, and a great calamity has, in consequence, come upon me and my family. Come now, let us fetch the goddess from our ancestral home, and worship her here in this place." The goddess referred to was Lakshmi, the wife of Vishnu, the goddess of wealth and prosperity. When little Daniel heard this proposal, it seemed foolishness to him, and at a favourable opening in the conversation he said to his relation, "The goddess Lakshmi has blessed you with wealth, but she has left us in poverty; when she gives us prosperity we will worship her, but not till then." Both Daniel's father and his visitor looked at the boy angrily, but said nothing; however, in the end his father decided not to fetch the idol.
The following is another proof of Daniel's decision; and it shows what a clear view he had of idolatry before he ever heard a word of Gospel truth. The account is given in his own words.
CHAPTER THREE.
SNAKE-WORSHIP.
When I was about eleven years old, my brothers and sisters were suffering from boils, and my parents asked a fortune-teller what they should do to get rid of them. He told my parents that the boils had come in consequence of their neglect of serpent-worship, and that the children would be cured if my parents would again worship snakes. These reptiles often take up their abode in white-ant-hills, after the ants have vacated them. My parents had been in the habit of worshipping serpents two or three times a year. Their custom was to pour milk, clarified butter, curds, etcetera, etcetera, into the holes of a white-ant-hill, when they knew there was a venomous serpent inside. The libations were accompanied by fastings, prayers, prostrations, and many ceremonial purifications. And now to remove the boils from their children they resolved to comply with the fortune-teller's directions, and go through a grand performance of serpent-worship. They accordingly consecrated two old stone idols, made in the shape of serpents, and commenced the worship of them. I thought this was all foolishness, and before the whole of the ceremonies could be completed, watching my opportunity, I broke each snake-stone into two or three pieces, and threw them away as common stones. When my parents saw the broken images, and knew that it was I who had broken them, they were exceedingly angry, and my father said, with fury, "Son! is it proper to do so? Other gods may be false, but the Serpent-god is not. The children are suffering from the anger of the Serpent-god, and now you have broken his images, so that his wrath is increased; and what calamity will happen to us it is impossible to say."
After my father was a little calm, I said to him, "Father, I believe that this worshipping snakes and their stone images is all nonsense.
What connection can there be between boils on a human body and the image of a serpent? Have patience; no calamity will happen. Should any trouble come, we will then conclude that the serpent is a true god; and I will, in that case, get two other images made, and putting them in the place of the two broken ones, they shall be consecrated and receive regular worship." My father thought I was a strange child. However, in a few days, my brothers and sisters were quite well, and the belief of my parents in snake-worship died away.
CHAPTER FOUR.
BIBLE IN THE CANARESE LANGUAGE.
Daniel, at that time, had no teacher but the Holy Spirit. There were no Bibles in the Canarese language, which was the language spoken by Daniel; there were no Protestant Missionaries where he lived; no schools in which Hindoo children could be taught to read the Word of God; and no means whatever for acquiring a correct knowledge of the way to heaven.
Had these means of salvation been in existence when Daniel was a boy, he would have been taught to worship the true God, and might have been instrumental in the conversion of many people. But his youth was spent in ignorance and in the service of Satan. Thank God, there is now a change for the better. There are Missionaries who preach the Gospel in many parts of the Mysore country; there are schools for children, and also for those converted young men who wish to be taught how to preach the Gospel to their own countrymen. The Scriptures are translated into the Canarese language, and may be had everywhere at a very cheap rate indeed. A copy of the Canarese Bible, printed at the Wesleyan Mission Press, in Bangalore, and beautifully bound, was presented, with Bibles in other oriental languages, to His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales, on his late visit to Madras. This is a very different state of things from that which existed when Daniel was a boy. But there is very much yet to be done. The Missionaries have made a good beginning, but the work has to be completed; every man, woman, and child has to be converted; and therefore the young Missionary collectors all over England, have need to renew their efforts, that many more Missionaries may be sent to India every year.
CHAPTER FIVE.
DIALOGUE BETWEEN A GENTLEMAN AND A SHEPHERD.
We will now return to our history of the boy Daniel. In the same year that he broke the stone serpents, he played a trick on some impostors who were taking part in a religious procession, which the shepherds of Singonahully and the neighbourhood had got up. The shepherds in the Mysore country are very ignorant and very superstitious. This may partly be accounted for from the fact that they live with their flocks in the open fields daily, from morning to night, associate little with their fellow-men, and seem shut out from all means of instruction. A very learned Brahmin, who was at one time the Reverend William Arthur's Canarese teacher, wrote a number of 'Village Dialogues,' and in one of them the shepherd is most admirably described. The following extract is made in order to show the shepherd's ignorance, his creed, and his mode of worship. It is a fit introduction to the Shepherds' procession which little Daniel interrupted. The extract is part of a supposed dialogue between an English gentleman passing through the country and a shepherd, whom he happens to see near the public road:
The shepherd had a handkerchief round his head, a grey woollen blanket tied like a hood, and a six-cubit piece of cloth round his loins.
Behind him came a flock of sheep, and behind the flock, in front, and on both sides there were barking dogs. The shepherd had a stick in his left hand, which he laid upon his left shoulder; in his right hand he had a long switch, and under the armpit a bag, in a small net of hemp-cord network; the net hung from the shoulder on the left side.
Calling "Hus-si, hus-si, kiy-yo," to the sheep which were straggling on all four sides, he brought them together and drove them along; going sometimes before, and sometimes behind. Whilst he was going behind, he saw an English gentleman coming along in a travelling carriage, and said to himself, "Who in the world is this? A gentleman coming, as I'm alive! Why should I stay in his way? I'd better hide myself a bit."
So he got behind a hedge, and fearing lest the sheep should stray, as he kept peeping and looking out every now and then, and huffing them with his cry, "Hus-si, hus-si," this gentleman saw him, and called out, "Ho Sir, _Gowda_, come here." _Gowda_ is the head man of a village, and the word was used on this occasion respectfully. Hearing which, the shepherd said to himself, "What trouble has come now? He's calling me to come to him. If I go to him, I cannot tell what he may do to me.
And if I don't go, I cannot tell what will happen. But they say that English gentlemen never do harm to anybody. Though I hear him, I'll just keep quiet as though I didn't hear, and if he calls again, I'll go." The gentleman, seeing the shepherd's great perplexity, and knowing that it was through fear that he did not come, again called out, "Ho Sir, Gowda, Gowda, come here; don't be afraid; I won't do anything to you; you need not give me anything; come here, come and have a talk."
On which the shepherd thinking within himself, "If I don't go to him after this, he may get angry, and I can't tell what he will do," delayed a little, as though driving his sheep; when the gentleman again called, "Come." "There is no getting out of it, I must go," said the shepherd to himself; and came near, and stood with the stick across his shoulders, holding the ends of the stick on both sides with his hands, swinging the switch that he held in his right hand, stooping, moving his head from side to side, and shuffling his feet. Seeing the shepherd, who thus came and stood, the gentleman entered into conversation with him, as follows:
G. "Well, Sir, _Gowda_, who are you?"
S. "I am a shepherd, my lord."
G. "What is your name?"
S. "My name is Bit-tare Shikkanu, Sir." (The words mean, "If you let him go, you won't catch him again.")
G. "Bravo! If one let go your name, he won't catch it again, eh?
Well, what is your god's name?"
S. "_Bir-ap-pa_ is our god, Sir."
G. "_Bir-ap-pa_, eh? what is he like?"
S. "That's good, Sir. What should god be like? It is in this temple."
G. "How do you worship your god? and how often?"
S. "We worship our god once a year, or once in two years, or if we miss that, once in three years. When the worship is made, there is a great gathering, numbers of people come--wind instruments, cymbals, tambourines, drums, flags, beggars, devotees, stoics, bearskin-capped shepherd-priests,--and as for brahmins, they are without number; they abound wherever you look. Besides these, shops, cocoa-nuts, plantain bunches, and bundles of betel leaves, innumerable mountebanks, ballad-singers, tumblers, companies of stage-players; all these, a great gathering, Sir. Then worshipping god, presenting flowers, lighted wave offerings, offerings of money, of ornaments, votive offerings, and consecrated cattle; persons who give their hair, cocoa-nut scramblers, lamp bearers, offerers of fruit and flowers,--many people come together, and we worship our god _Bir-ap-pa_."
G. "Is the temple, where your god is, very clean?"