Not Peace, but a Sword
THE two companions who were turned back watched their friend from a distance when he was baptized. One of the two continued for many years more or less in sympathy; but he gradually drifted. The other was “caught in the delusive whirlpool of the Ve’dantic philosophy,” and became a bitter foe. Not long ago a young student from this district, studying in Madras, was convinced of the truth of Christianity. He grew more and more earnest, till he was considered ripe for baptism. His father, upon hearing this, went straight to Madras. He kept his son with him for a few hours, then returned him to the missionary, broken. Sense of honour, will-power, all desire, had gone. No one knows what he did with the boy. He returned to Tinnevelly, satisfied. This father was the poet’s friend. He and his son have dropped out of sight: we know no more of them. Those things, never the mere physical accidents of life, are the missionary’s hurts and heart-breaks. The cause is found in one word — caste.
There is a growing idea at home, caused by that perilous habit of generalising from an isolated incident, that caste is losing its power of grip. Where surface relations are concerned it is true that its vigilance is relaxed. Education and all civilising agencies tend towards this. But go deeper, and you find caste is still a forceful thing, and individual conversion, where it rules, still means the knife at the heart.
A South Indian Christian paper, edited by a convert from the central citadel of Hinduism, lately addressed a series of questions bearing upon this subject to men of experience, Indian and English, in different parts of the country. From north to south the answers were remarkably similar. The consensus of opinion may be fairly summarised by two answers to one of the questions:
“In order for a Christian to retain his caste, is it necessary that he should in any way take part in the worship of idols, demons, or false gods?”
“Generally speaking, it is obligatory for a Hindu to worship idols in order to retain caste.” — Hon. Kanwar Sir Harnam Singh, K.C.S.I., Ahluwalia.
“A Hindu might, by doing nothing, retain his caste, at least for a considerable length of time; but if he moved in a distinctly Christian direction he would lose caste.” — Archdeacon Caley, Travancore.
A second question was: “A Hindu becomes a Christian, and is baptized. He claims that he can live a Christian life in his orthodox Hindu home. In your opinion is it practicable? Is it even possible?”
The answers, English and Indian, were decisive:
“A baptized Christian might very well live a Christian life in a Hindu home if he were given freedom to do so.
But in this part of India the attempt would not be tolerated. If he attempted it, he would either be expelled or speedily made away with.” — Kev. Edward P. Rice, L.M.S., Bangalore.
“No; the mere act of baptism is looked upon by the Hindu as putting a man out of caste. A baptized man is considered as having gone out of the Hindu fold.” — L. C. Williams Pillai, Inspector of Schools, Northern Circars.
“He cannot live a consistent Christian life.” — Mr. P. Krishna Murti, Vizagapatam.
“No Hindu will ever be allowed to lead a consistent Christian life.” — Gangaram Pantulu, B.A., Sub-Registrar, Bimlipatam.
“No, he will be outcasted. Theoretically, he can, but no one has yet succeeded in the attempt.” — Dr. Ramachandrayya, M.D., L.R., C.I.E., etc., Madras.
‘• It is impossible to live in Hindu homes as a consistent Christian. From a Hindu standpoint such persons as lead a consistent Christian life in their Hindu homes would be surely outcasted.” — J. Vekanna, B.A., Head Master, High School, Bimlipatam.
“If anything is impossible under the sun, it is this.” — Mr. J. M. Bhaktul, Head Master, High School, Chatrapur.
The position was fairly stated in a critique on The Advanced Text-Book of Hindu Religion and Ethics: “It appears to me that most Hindus are prepared to be tolerant when principles are merely being discussed. But when it is a matter of leaving a false position to take up one rationally conceived and spiritually desired, to leave Hinduism for Christianity, we can no longer expect an indifferent toleration. Neo-Hinduism is ready enough to make a cheap identification of our religion with its own, and to hail Jesus Christ as an Eastern Muni and a Yogi of great powers; but the truth of its heart comes out when a Hindu claims to exercise his right of individual freedom, and to follow that Christ in the way He has ordained.”
These extracts form a platform; the people in our story move up and down upon it.
After the disturbance which followed Victory’s conversion several lads who seemed genuine in desire to become Christians came forward as inquirers. One of these was a young man who had been influenced at school. His relatives knew of it, and arranged a marriage for him with a speed which betrayed their alarm. His distress at the thought of causing them distress increased as the day drew nearer. His mother’s beseeching face, his father’s stern silence, weighed upon him till his very walk showed it. He stooped like an old man.
The day was fixed. The house was adorned. Strings of jessamine fastened from roof to roof and pillar to pillar filled the air with heavy scent. And the boy was entangled as if the strings had been wound about his soul, and dazed as if their scent possessed some fatal miasma.
On the evening before the wedding night we felt impelled to go to the house and try to see him.
When we arrived there it was dusk, and the courtyard, lighted with many lamps, was oppressively hot.
Servants were rushing about, friends were shouting directions. Children were playing in the midst of the confusion. Overhead, the red and white strips of the awning were interlaced with flowers withered already. Piles of flower balls lay in every available corner. All the lamps were smoking; not a breath of pure air could get in. One half wondered then, as one waited in that suffocating atmosphere, how anything could survive in it. If will-power withered with the flowers, who could wonder?
No one took any notice of us; we were lost in the crowd. After we had waited awhile the bridegroom-elect walked in, and we went out together into the cool, clear air.
It was impossible to talk in the street. We went straight to the bungalow; the boy followed. The people were kept from thinking about us.
Then for an hour Mr. Walker talked with him, while Mrs. Walker and we other workers waited on God in the next room. It was given to us in that hour to feel something of the value, the immeasurable value of a single soul.
The sound of voices ceased. There was a long silence. Then the door opened; we heard the boy go. He had gone back irresolute.
An irresolute boy among resolute men and women has a poor chance. A few hours later the preliminary noises attending a wedding of importance told us he had yielded.
But what if he had not? One stops at a loss for words to show what one can almost see: the devastation, distress, disgrace; the immediate cessation of the marriage ceremonies; the indignation of the bride’s relatives at what they would regard as an insupportable insult. Above all there would be the grief and horror of the parents; the bitter, uncontrollable frenzied excitemeDt of every one of the several hundred relations, and the scorn of the few thousand neighbours who made up that boy’s world. It is not needful to speak of physical dangers and possible cruelties, because he might escape these by flight. We only mention unavoidable certainties.
The thought of it all unnerved the boy. The word was not spoken that night or next day. So the following night the conch shell’s blare and the tomtom’s beat insisted persistently, wearily, that his soul was entangled indeed; the seductive influence had worked.
We saw him a few months later. The schoolboy carelessness had passed. He looked helpless and miserable. In the South all social ceremonies are connected with idolatry through the medium of caste customs, which have religious meanings. So the marriage had involved compromise. He was a hypocrite, and he knew it.
Day by day in fulfilling his duties he found himself more and more embarrassed. As a boy his conduct had not been much observed. As a man he must perform the rites pertaining to the husband. Direct idolatry might be evaded for a while, but the trident painted every morning freshly on his forehead related to Vishnu. He called it his caste mark, in feeble palliation, but names do not alter facts. He felt like a snared animal struggling in his snare.
Gradually this feeling passed, and gave place to inertia. He cared for nothing, would not let his little wife learn, went through idolatrous routine untroubled. Sometimes he came to the bungalow in a shamefaced, shuffling sort of fashion. But this ceased after a year or so. A coma settles upon the soul that however sorely pressed disobeys, and goes on disobeying.
Most missionaries could duplicate this story. It is such a common story, it seems superfluous to tell it. But we have told it because it is so common. If it were sporadic it would not be worth telling.