The belief in witchcraft is probably the most ancient, the most widely distributed, and the most deeply rooted of popular superstitions. In ancient Egypt and Babylon, among Arabs, Greeks, Romans, and Jews, in the heart of Africa, in remote islands of the sea, and, until quite recently, even in what profess to be the most civilized countries of the world, there has been cherished the firm conviction that certain persons have, in some occult way, acquired the power of exercising a malign influence on their fellow creatures. A minister in a small town in one of the border counties of Scotland, told the writer, some time ago, that there was an old woman in their congregation whose mother had seen a witch burned alive on the top of a neighboring hill, and it was less than twenty years ago that an old man was dragged out of his bed one night in county Cork, and roasted to death, because he was believed to be a witch. Witchcraft is often superstition’s last ditch; it marks the final stand made by barbarism against the advance of civilization. It is not surprising, therefore, to find it still rampant among the uneducated classes in India, and it may be safely affirmed that over large tracts of country, there is not a magistrate’s court whose records do not furnish instances of cruel persecution on the pretext of witchcraft.
A Legend of Its Origin
The Santals have a legend of their own to account for the institution of witches, being in this respect somewhat more advanced than the people who accept them as in the order of things. “Once upon a time,” they say, “when all the world was young, husbands were alarmed to find that their wives were becoming refractory, not submitting to rebuke, and even reviling their lords and masters. The men determined to appeal for help to the Great Spirit, and in answer to their prayers, he appeared to them at midnight in the forest, listened to their plea, and distributed sal-trees among them, with the command that if they really wanted his help, they must appear before him again, twenty-four hours later, each bringing the sal leaf marked with his own blood. The wives, however, got wind of the affair, followed the men to their midnight meeting, and secretly overheard all that had been transacted there. So they put their heads together and contrived to outwit the men. When the latter reached home, the women received16them most graciously and plied them with drink till they were either oblivious of, or indifferent to, their engagement with the Great Spirit. The wives, however, disguised themselves as men, drew blood from their arms by pricking them with thorns, and with the sal leaves smeared in the prescribed way in their hands, met the Great Spirit at the appointed time and place. Pleased with their compliance, the Great Spirit communicated to them the secrets of witchcraft with the accompanying incantations. The result was that the men, finding their wives more abusive and troublesome than ever, again appealed to the Great Spirit. Then it transpired that the men had been forestalled. The Great Spirit said he could not revoke his gifts, and the best thing he could do for the men was to initiate them into the art of the jan, or witch-finder. The art, however, has always been regarded as inferior to the witches. The “dan,” the witch, enjoys the patronage of more powerful spirits than the jan, the witch-finder, with the result that the latter is often deceived and misreads the name that is traced in oil on the leaves he consults.
The Broom Again
Like most of their kind elsewhere, the Santal witches are supposed to hold their meetings at night. If they are married women, they are believed to be able by putting a broom into the bed, to conceal their absence from their husbands. Witches do not walk (so runs their belief), but are carried along on the wings of the wind. Any woman to whom a witch makes overtures to join the witches’ sisterhood is, as a rule, pestered till she consents, and then both teacher and pupil, with brooms tied around them instead of cloth, repair to the sacred grove of sal-trees near the village, where a fowl is sacrificed, and then cooked and eaten. The witch then calls a tiger, and when it appears, orders the novice to comb its hair and kiss it. The tiger submits, and when its toilet has been completed, the young witch is told she is now ready to practise her craft. She can go to fair or market, fix her attention on any young man or woman, and by repeating the formulas she has learned, cause him or her to become giddy and fall senseless at her feet. This is the proof of proficiency. In the hands of one not quite competent, the spell will still act, but not upon the intended victim.
So much for the beliefs; now come the facts. No Santal, says Dr. Campbell, believes that a human being ever dies a natural death. Deaths, not the result of violence or accident, are laid at the door of the witches. During the performance of the ceremonies that follow death, a man is supposed to become possessed with the spirit of the deceased, and when the relatives ask him why he went away and left them, he replies, “Because there was not room for me in the eye of a certain person.”
When cattle die without visible cause, from internal disease, their loss is also charged to the witch. In this respect the credulity of the people is appalling. Even in ordinary cases of malarial fever, husbands will charge their wives, fathers their daughters, brothers their sisters, with causing the disease by witchcraft, and no means is too atrocious to force a confession or compel the removal of the spell. Women, however, are not prosecuted, as they used to be in Scotland, on the general charge of being witches, but only for specific acts. The people, too, seem to regard the witch’s evil powers as subject to limitation, for, once they resolve to punish her, they are not deterred by fear of retaliation.
The Regular Procedure
A SANTAL VILLAGE TEMPLE
The usual procedure in the case of a serious lingering illness, is to consult an ojha, or charm doctor. If his incantations are of no avail, to save his professional reputation he suggests a witch. Suspicion readily attaches itself to some woman who is known to be jealous or hostile, or who may have merely made an innocent remark about the probable fatal result of the illness. She is summoned to appear before a gathering of the villagers, and if she denies the charge, she and her friends are asked if they are willing to submit the matter to a jan, or witch-finder. Such a course is seldom if ever declined, for the refusal would be regarded as a plea of guilty. A deputation is appointed, representing both parties, whose duty it is first to select a jan—a matter often of the greatest difficulty—and then to wait upon him to present the case. They are received, not in the first instance by the jan himself, but by his assistant, known as the phul dharia, whose duty it is to worm out of the suspected person, on behalf of his master, all the possible information about the case. The jan refuses to meet the party until his assistant has succeeded in his object, and if the information received is not sufficient for his purpose, he may in the end decline to give an opinion. Then the deputation has to go elsewhere. When a jan is found willing to undertake the case, a meeting is arranged, and the spokesman of the deputation puts a number of questions to test the magician’s familiarity with the spirit world. At each question the jan rubs together two sal leaves smeared with oil, and after gazing intently at the lines formed by the oil, gives his answer. If these answers seem satisfactory and inspire confidence, the deputation proceeds to put questions regarding the specific object of the visit. If the jan, again consulting the oiled leaves, names a person as guilty, that settles the matter. No protestations will do the suspected witch any good. Her only course is to confess, and have the matter compounded as cheaply as possible. Nowadays the usual punishment is a fine, often amounting to fifty rupees, and, be it remembered, that is often more than the annual income of the family implicated. Half the fine goes to the landlord, the other half furnishes a feast for the villagers. It is a serious grievance with the Santals that the British government takes the side of the witches. They regard it as a monstrous injustice that they should be punished for taking measures of protection against disease and death.
The above is taken, largely, from the Indian Daily Telegraph.
