Note 1 — 1857–1859.

The rite of passing cakes from village to village or of passing a dog from village to village is in such complete accord with magical and religious rites practised all over India that it seems hardly possible to accept either as meaningless or as accidental the passing of cakes and of a dog from one part of the country to another on the brink of the Mutinies. Knowing how suitable such a rite is to the state of feeling as well as to the phase of belief prevalent among the plotters of rebellion in Northern India it seems difficult to suppose that the passing of the cakes and the passing of the dog were not both sacramental; that is designed to spread over the country a spirit which had by religious or magical rites been housed in the dog and in the cakes. The cake-spirit, like the sugar-spirit of the Thags, was doubtless Káli, the fierce longing for unbridled cruelty, which worked on the partaker of the Thag sugar with such power that he entered with zest and without remorse on any scheme however cowardly and cruel. Like the Thags those who ate the Mutiny cakes would by partaking become of one spirit, the spirit of the indwelling Káli, and, in that spirit would be ready to support and to take part in any scheme of blood which the leaders of Mutiny might devise and start. Similarly by religious rites the Central India dog, possibly the dog of Báiza Bái of Gwálior (See Text page 437), had been made the home of some fierce war-spirit, apparently of the dog-formed Khandoba the Marátha Sword God and Dog of War. The inspired dog and the inspired dogs-meat were passed through the land in the confidence that through them the spirit of unrest would pervade every village of Gujarát. Since the Mutinies, by the magic of letters, Káli has passed from the wafer into the leaflet, and the paid political propagandist has taken the place of Khandoba’s pariah dog.

The correctness of the view suggested above is supported if not established by certain passages in Kaye’s Sepoy War, I. 632–642. Chuni says; ‘The circulating of cakes was supposed to foretell disturbance and to imply an invitation to the people to unite for some secret purpose.’ According to the king of Delhi’s physician (page 636) some charm attached to the cakes. The people thought they were made by some adept in the secret arts to keep unpolluted the religion of the country. Another authority (page 637) says; ‘The first circulation of the cakes was on the authority of a pandit who said the people would rise in rebellion if cakes were sent round and that the person in whose name the cakes were sent would rule India.’ The secret comes out in Sitárám Báwá’s evidence (pages 646–648); ‘The cakes in question were a charm or jádu which originated with Dása Báwa the guru or teacher of Nána Sáheb. Dása told Nána Sáheb he would make a charm and as far as the magic cakes should be carried so far should the people be on his side. He then took lotusseed-dough called makána and made an idol of it. He reduced the idol to very small pills and having made an immense number of cakes he put a pillet in each and said that as far as the cakes were carried so far would the people determine to throw off the Company’s yoke.’ With this making of a cake as a sacramental home of Durga or Káli compare the Buddhist of Tibet offering in a human skull to the Máháráni or Queen, that is to Durga or Káli, a sacramental cake made of black-goat’s fat, wine, dough, and butter. (Waddell’s Buddhism in Tibet, 365.). As to the effect of sharing in Durga’s mutiny cakes compare the statement of the Thag Faringia (Sleeman’s Ramaseeana, page 216); The sugar sacrament, gur-tapávani, changes our nature. Let a man once taste the sacramental sugar and he will remain a Thag however skilful a craftsman, however well-to-do. The Urdu proverb says Tapauni-ki-dhaunika gur jisne kháyá wuh waisá huá Who eats the sugar of the sacramental Vase as he is so he remains. The Thags are tools in the hand of the god they have eaten. (Compare Ramaseeana, 76.)—J. M. C. ↑