A Brahmin of the present iron age is quite a different ecclesiastic from what he was in the past golden age. He is a metamorphosed being. Believing in the doctrine of metempsychosis, he claims to have descended from the mouth of the Supreme BrahmÁ, the Creator according to the Hindoo triad. In the lapse of time, his physical organisation, his traditional reputation as a saint and sage, his thorough devotion to his religious duties, his mental abstraction, his logical acumen, the purity of his character, his habitude and mode of living, have all undergone a radical change, unequivocally indicating the gradual declension of corporeal strength, of intellectual vigor, as well as of moral worth. In former times he was popularly regarded as the visible embodiment of the Creator, and the delegated exponent of all knowledge, revealed or acquired. The old and venerable Munis and Rishis, and their philosophical dissertations, their theological controversies and their religious and ethical disquisitions, evoked the admiration of the world in the dark ages before the Christian era. Almost all of them lived in a state of asceticism, and devoted their lives to religious contemplation, renouncing all the pleasures, passions and desires of the mundane world. The longevity of their lives in their sequestered retreat, the perfect purity of their manners, the simplicity of their habits, and their elevated conception of the immutable attributes of God, inspired the people with a profound reverence for their precepts and principles. The prince and the peasant alike paid their homage to the sacerdotal class, whose doctrines had, in the primitive state of society, the authority of religion and law.

The power of the Brahmins penetrated every class of the people, and by way of eminence they called themselves Dvija, i. e., the regenerated or the twice born—a term which should only be applied to the really inspired sons of God. Since the promulgation of the Institutes of Manu they obtained that prominent rank among the Hindoos which they have retained unimpaired amidst all dynastic changes. Keeping the key of all knowledge in their exclusive custody, their functions were originally confined to the performance of religious ceremonies and the promulgation of laws. In all the affairs of the state or religion, the fiat of their ordinances had all the weight of a sacred command. Even the order of a mighty potentate was held in subordination to their injunctions. They were enjoined to worship their guardian deity three times a day, and were strictly prohibited from engaging in any secular occupation. They practised all manner of austerities tending to beget a contempt for all worldly enjoyments, and paved the way by religious meditation for ultimate absorption into the divine essence,—an ideal of the sublimity of which we can have no conception in the present degenerate age.

The complete monopoly of religious and legal knowledge which the Brahmins enjoyed for a very considerable period after the first dawn of learning in the East anterior to the Christian era, enabled them to put forth their very great influence upon the spiritual and temporal concerns of the three other orders of the Hindoo population, who implicitly accorded to them all the valuable rights of a privileged class, superior to all earthly power whatsoever. It has been expressly declared in the Institutes of Manu that Hindoo Law was a direct emanation from God. "That Immutable Power," says Manu, "having enacted this Code of Laws, himself taught it fully to me in the beginning; afterwards I taught Marichi and the nine other holy sages." It is believed that in the tenth century, B. C. "the complete fusion of Hindoo law and religion," was effected, and that both were administered by the Brahmins, until some mighty kings arose in Rajpootana, who curtailing their supreme influence reduced them to a secondary position. Thenceforward their ascendency gradually began to decline, till at length through succeeding generations it dwindled into comparative insignificance.[91] In process of time, the four grand original classes slowly multiplied, which is not to be wondered at in a great community split into divisions and subdivisions, separated from each other by different creeds, manners, customs and modes of life. These ramifications necessarily involved diversities of religious, moral and legal opinions and doctrines more or less fatal to the unquestioned authority of the Brahmins, who seeing in the progress and revolution of society the inevitable decay of their hitherto undisputed influence, abandoned the traditional and prescribed path of religious life and betook themselves to secular pursuit of gain for their subsistence. The necessary consequence now is that in almost every sphere of life, in every profession or calling, the Brahmins of the present day are extensively engaged. And their cupidity is so great, that every principle of law and morality is shamefully compromised in their dealings with mankind. A Brahmin is no longer typical of either religious purity or moral excellence. His profound erudition, his logical subtlety in spinning into niceties the most commonplace distinctions, his spirit of deep research and his illimitable power of polemical discussion, have all forsaken him, and from an inspired priest he has degenerated into a mercenary purohit. He no longer wears on his forehead the frontlet of righteousness, his whole heart, his whole soul is impregnated with corruption. In a fervent spirit, he no longer says to his followers—"let us meditate on the adorable light of the Divine Ruler; may it guide our intellects." His sacred poita (Brahminical thread) his divine gayÚtree (prayer) his holy basil (bead roll), his three daily services with the sacred water of the Ganges, no longer inspire the minds of his votaries with awe, obedience and homage. From the worship of the only Living and True God he has descended to the worship of 330 millions of gods and of goddesses. Human numeration reels at the list. The individuality of the godhead is lost in the never ending cycles of deified objects, animate and inanimate. We no longer recognise in the Brahminical character and life an unsullied image of godlike purity, holiness and sublimity. His ministrations no longer fill us with joyful and exhilarating hopes which extend beyond the grave and promise to lead us to the safe anchorage of everlasting bliss. They no longer stir up in our breasts during each hour of life's waning lustre "a sublimer faith, a brighter prospect, a kinder sympathy, a gentler resignation." I ask every Hindoo to look into his heart honestly and answer frankly whether a Brahmin of the present day is a true embodiment, a glorious display, a veritable representative of Brahma, the Creator. Has he not long since sacrificed his traditional pure faith on the altar of selfishness and concupiscence and committed a deliberate suicide of his moral and spiritual faculty? We blush to answer the question in the affirmative.

I now purpose to give a short account of the ceremonies connected with the investiture of the poita, the sacred thread of a Brahmin, on the strength of which he assumes the highest ecclesiastical honors and privileges. According to the Hindoo almanac, an auspicious day is fixed for this important ceremonial, which opens a new chapter in the life of a Brahmin especially intended to ensure him all the rare benefits of a full-blown Dwija, or the twice-born. In celebrating the rite, particular regard is had to the state of the weather; should any atmospheric disturbance occur, the ceremony is postponed to the next clear day. The age assigned for the investiture is between nine and fifteen years. The occasion is accompanied in many cases by the preparation of ananunda naru, a kind of sweetmeat made of powdered rice, treacle, cocoanut and gingelly seeds rolled up into small round balls and fried in mustard oil. This particular sort of Hindoo confectionery, evidently a relic of primitive preparations, is manufactured on all occasions indicative of domestic rejoicing, hence the significance of the name given above. Before the appointed day, the boy is enjoined to abstain from the use of fish and oil, and on the morning of the ceremony, having been shaved, he is made to bathe, and put on red clothes, and when the rite of investiture commences wears a conical shaped tinsel hat, while the priest reads certain incantations and worships Narayan or Vishnoo, represented by a small round stone called Saligram Sulu, the ordinary household god of all Hindoos. A piece of cloth is held over his head, that he may not see or be seen by any of the non Brahminical caste. He then assumes the dunda, or the staff of an ascetical mendicant, which is represented by the branch of a vilwa tree held in his right hand, at the top of which is tied a knot with a bit of dyed cloth. An initiatory poita made of twisted khoosh grass, to which is fastened a piece of deer's skin, is next placed over the boy's left shoulder during the repetition of the prescribed incantations. The father then repeats to his son, in a low voice, lest a Soodra should hear, the sacred gayÚtree three times, which he tries his best to commit to memory. The khoosh grass poita is here removed, and a real thread poita spun by Brahmin women[92] which he is to wear ever afterwards, is substituted in its place. The boy now puts on his shoes and holds an umbrella in his hand while the priest reads and the father repeats the usual incantations, tending to awaken in the boy a sense of the grave responsibility he assumes. Thus dressed as a Brahmacharee (a religious mendicant), with a staff upon his shoulder and a beggar's wallet hanging by his side, he goes to his mother, father and other relatives and begs alms, repeating at the same time a certain word in Sanskrit. They give him each a small quantity of rice, a few poitas and a few Rupees, amounting in some cases to two or three hundred. The boy then squats down while the father offers a burnt sacrifice and repeats the customary incantations. After the performance of these ceremonies, the boy in his Brahmacharee attire suddenly rises up in a fit of pretended ecstacy and declares before the company that he is determined in future to lead the life of a religious mendicant. The announcement of this resolution instantly evokes the sympathy of the father, mother and other relatives, and they all persuade him to change his mind and adopt a secular life, citing instances that that life is favourable to the cultivation and growth of domestic and social affections as well as religious principles of the highest order. The holy Shastra expressly inculcates that a clean heart and a righteous spirit make men happy even amid the sorrows of earth, and that the sackcloth of mendicancy is not essential to righteousness if we earnestly and sincerely ask God to give us His true riches. Thus admonished, he with apparent reluctance abandons his pre-concerted design, which is a mere sham, and assumes the rÔle of secularism. Certain formulas are now repeated, after which the boy leaves his vilwa staff, and takes in hand a thin Bamboo staff, which he throws over his shoulder. Other ritualistic rites are then performed, at the close of which the priest receives his fee for the trouble and departs home with the offerings. The boy next walks into a room, a woman pouring out water as he goes. He is then taught to commit to memory his daily service, called sundhya, after the repetition of which he eats the charÚ made of milk, sugar and rice boiled together.

For three days after being investited with the poita the boy is enjoined to sleep either on a carpet or a deer's skin, without a mattress or a musquito curtain. His food consists of boiled rice, ghee, milk and sugar, etc., only once a day, without oil and salt. He is strictly prohibited to see the sun or the face of a soodra, and is constantly employed in learning the sacred gayÚtree and the forms of the daily service which should be repeated thrice in a day. On the morning of the fourth day, he goes to the sacred stream of the Ganges, throws the two staves into the water, bathes, repeats his prayers, returns home, and again enters on the performance of his ordinary secular duties. During the day, a few Brahmins are fed according to the circumstances of the family. Thus the ceremony of investiture is closed, and the boy being purified and regenerated is elevated to the rank of a Dwija or twice born. How easily does the Brahminical Shastra make a change for the better in a religious sense in a youth quite incapable of forming adequate conceptions of a spiritual regeneration by the mere administration of a single rite!

Having endeavoured to give thus a short account of the ceremonies connected with the investiture of the sacred thread of a Brahmin, it remains to be seen how far his present position, character and conduct harmonise with the reputed sanctity of his regenerated nature. Great blame is laid at the door of the British Government, because it does not accord that high respect to the sacerdotal class which their own Rajahs had shewn them in the halcyon days of Hindooism. Before the advent of the British to India, the doctrines of the Brahminical creed, as indicated above, were in full force. Every Hindoo king used to enforce on all classes of the people high or low, a strict observance of the idolatrous ceremonies prescribed in the Hindoo Shastra. In the dark ages scarcely any nation in the world was hemmed in by such a close ring of religious ceremonials as the people of this country. Almost every commonplace occurrence had its peculiar rites which required the interposition of the sacerdotal class. On occasions of prosperity or adversity, of rejoicing or calamity, their ministration was alike needed. These formed their ordinary sources of gain, but the greatest means of support consisted in the grants of lands, including sometimes houses, tanks, gardens, etc., given in perpetuity to gods or the priests. These grants are called, as I have already stated, the Debatras and Brahmatras. Among others, the Rajahs of Burdwan, Kishnaghur, and Tipperah made the greatest gifts, and their names are still remembered with gratitude by many a Brahmin in Bengal. But the Law authorizing the resumption of rent-free tenures has, as must naturally be expected, made the English Government obnoxious, and it is denounced in no measured terms for the sacrilegious act. If Manu were to visit Bengal now, his indignation and amazement would know no bounds in witnessing the sacerdotal class reduced to the humiliating position of a servile, cringing and mercenary crowd of men. Their original prestige has suffered a total shipwreck. Generally speaking, a Brahmin of the present day is practically a Soodra (the most inferior class) of the past age, irretrievably sunk in honor and dignity. Indeed it was one of the curses of the Vedic period that to be a Brahmin of the present Kali yagu would be an impersonation of corruption, baseness and venality.

There is a common saying amongst the Natives that a Brahmin is a beggar even if he were possessed of a lakh of Rupees (£10,000.) It is a lamentable fact that impecuniosity is the common lot of the class. In ordinary conversation, when the question of the comparative fortunes of the different classes is introduced, a Brahmin is often heard to lament his most impecunious lot. The gains of the sacerdotal class of the present day have been reduced to the lowest scale imaginable. If an officiating priest can make ten Rupees a month, he considers himself very well off. He can no longer plume himself on his religious purity and mental superiority, once so pre-eminently characteristic of the order. The spread of English education has sounded the death-knell of his spiritual ascendancy. In short, his fate is doomed; he must bear or must forbear, as seems to him best. The tide of improvement will continue to roll on uninterruptedly, in spite of every "freezing and blighting influence," and we heartily rejoice to discover already that the "tender blade is grown into the green ear, and from the green ear to the rich and ripened corn."

When, a few years ago, Sir Richard Temple carefully examined the Criminal Statistics of Bengal, he was most deeply concerned to find that the proportion of the Brahmin criminals in the jails of the Province far outnumbered that of any other caste. This is an astounding fact, bearing the most unimpeachable testimony to the very lamentable deterioration of the Hindoo ecclesiastical class in our days. To expatiate on the subject would be unpalatable. But we believe we can point with a degree of pardonable pride to a past period when nine men of literary genius, among whom the renowned Kalidas, the Indian Shakespeare, was the most brilliant, flourished in the Court of Vikramaditya in Ougein; but dynastic changes were simultaneously accompanied by the rapid decline of learning as well as of religious purity.

The English rule, though most fiercely denounced by selfish, narrow-minded men, has nevertheless been productive of the most beneficial results even as far as the sacerdotal class is concerned. Every encouragement is now-a-days afforded to the cultivation of the classical language of India—Sanskrit—and not only are suitable employments provided for the most learned Pundits[93] in all the Government, Missionary and private educational Institutions throughout the country, but the University degrees conferred on the most successful students, tend to stimulate them to further laudable exertions in the study of the sacred language, which, but for this renewed attempt at cultivation and improvement, would have been very much neglected.

Independently of the above consideration, it is no less gratifying than certain that the progress of education has produced men, sprung from the sacerdotal class, whose eminent scholarly attainments, high moral principles and unblemished character, as well as a practical useful career, have raised them to the foremost ranks of Hindoo society. Rammohun Roy, Dr. K. M. Banerjea, Pundit Isser Chunder Vidyasager, Baboo Bhoodeb Mookerjee, and others of equal mental calibre, are names deservedly enshrined in the grateful memory of their countrymen. If Western knowledge had not been introduced into India, men of such high culture and moral excellence would have passed away unnoticed and unrecognised in the republic of letters, and the fruits of their literary labors, instead of being regarded as a valuable contribution to our stock of knowledge, would have been buried in obscurity. To study the lives of such distinguished pioneers of Hindoo enlightenment, "is to stir up our breasts to an exhilarating pursuit of high and ever-growing attainments in intellect and virtue."