Book Name:

The Ocean of Story Volume 2

[M] Then the King of Vatsa, while encamped in Lāvānaka to rest his army, said in secret to Yaugandharāyaṇa:

“Through your sagacity I have conquered all the kings upon the earth, and they being won over by politic devices will not conspire against me. But this King of Benares, Brahmadatta, is an ill-conditioned fellow, and he alone, I think, will plot against me; what confidence can be reposed in the wicked-minded?”

Then Yaugandharāyaṇa, being spoken to in this strain by the king, answered:

“O King, Brahmadatta will not plot against you again, for when he was conquered and submitted, you showed him great consideration; and what sensible man will injure one who treats him well? Whoever does, will find that it turns out unfortunately for himself, and on this point listen to what I am going to say; I will tell you a tale.

 

24. Story of Phalabhūti

There was once on a time in the land of Padma an excellent Brāhman of high renown, named Agnidatta, who lived on a grant of land given by the king. He had born to him two sons, the elder named Somadatta, and the second Vaiśvānaradatta. The elder of them was of fine person, but ignorant, and ill-conducted, but the second was sagacious, well-conducted, and fond of study. And those two after they were married, and their father had died, divided that royal grant and the rest of his possessions between them, each taking half; and the younger of the two was honoured by the king, but the elder, Somadatta, who was of unsteady character, remained a husbandman.

One day a Brāhman, who had been a friend of his father’s, seeing him engaged in conversation with some Śūdras, thus addressed him:

“Though you are the son of Agnidatta, you behave like a Śūdra, you blockhead, and you are not ashamed, though you see your own brother in favour with the king.”

Somadatta, when he heard that, flew into a passion, and, forgetting the respect due to the old man, ran upon him, and gave him a kick. Then the Brāhman, enraged on account of the kick, immediately called on some other Brāhmans to bear witness to it, and went and complained to the king. The king sent out soldiers to take Somadatta prisoner, but they, when they went out, were slain by his friends, who had taken up arms. Then the king sent out a second force, and captured Somadatta, and blinded by wrath ordered him to be impaled. Then that Brāhman, as he was being lifted on to the stake, suddenly fell to the ground, as if he were flung down by somebody. And those executioners, when preparing to lift him on again, became blind, for the Fates protect one who is destined to be prosperous.

The king, as soon as he heard of the occurrence, was pleased, and being entreated by the younger brother, spared the life of Somadatta; then Somadatta, having escaped death, desired to go to another land with his wife on account of the insulting treatment of the king, and when his relations in a body disapproved of his departure, he determined to live without the half of the king’s grant, which he resigned; then, finding no other means of support, he desired to practise husbandry, and went to the forest on a lucky day to find a piece of ground suitable for it. There he found a promising piece of ground, from which it seemed likely that an abundant crop could be produced, and in the middle of it he saw an Aśvattha tree of great size. Desiring ground fit for cultivation, and seeing that tree to be cool like the rainy season, as it kept off the rays of the sun with its auspicious thick shade, he was much delighted.

He said:

“I am a faithful votary of that being, whoever he may be, that presides over this tree,” [1]

and walking round the tree so as to keep it on his right, [2] he bowed before it. Then he yoked a pair of bullocks, and recited a prayer for success, and after making an oblation to that tree, he began to plough there. And he remained under that tree night and day, and his wife always brought him his meals there. And in course of time, when the corn was ripe, that piece of ground was, as fate would have it, unexpectedly plundered by the troops of a hostile kingdom. Then the hostile force having departed, the courageous man, though his corn was destroyed, comforted his weeping wife, gave her the little that remained, and after making an offering as before, remained in the same place, under the same tree. For that is the character of resolute men, that their perseverance is increased by misfortune.

Then one night, when he was sleepless from anxiety and alone, a voice came out from that Aśvattha tree:

“O Somadatta, I am pleased with thee, therefore go to the kingdom of a king named Ādityaprabha in the land of Śrīkaṇṭha; continually repeat at the door of that king (after reciting the form of words used at the evening oblation to Agni) the following sentence: –

‘I am Phalabhūti by name, a Brāhman, hear what I say: he who does good will obtain good, and he who does evil will obtain evil’;

by repeating this thou shalt obtain great prosperity; and now learn from me the form of words used at the evening oblation to Agni; I am a Yakṣa.”

Having said this, and having immediately taught him by his power the form of words used in the evening oblation, the voice in the tree ceased.

And the next morning the wise Somadatta set out with his wife, having received the name of Phalabhūti by imposition of the Yakṣa, and after crossing various forests, uneven and labyrinthine as his own calamities, [3] he reached the land of Śrīkaṇṭha. There he recited at the king’s door the form of words used at the evening oblation, and then he announced, as he had been directed, his name as Phalabhūti, and uttered the following speech, which excited the curiosity of the people: –

“The doer of good will obtain good, but the doer of evil, evil.”

And after he had said this frequently, the King Ādityaprabha, being full of curiosity, caused Phalabhūti to be brought into the palace, and he entered, and over and over again repeated that same speech in the presence of the king. That made the king and all his courtiers laugh. And the king and his chiefs gave him garments and ornaments, and also villages, for the amusement of great men is not without fruit; and so Phalabhūti, having been originally poor, immediately obtained by the favour of the Guhyaka [4] wealth bestowed by the king; and by continually reciting the words mentioned above he became a special favourite of the monarch; for the regal mind loves diversion. And gradually he attained to a position of love and respect in the palace, in the kingdom, and in the female apartments, as being beloved by the king.

One day that King Ādityaprabha returned from hunting in the forest, and quickly entered his harem; [5] his suspicions were aroused by the confusion of the warders, and when he entered, he saw the queen named Kuvalayāvalī engaged in worshipping the gods, stark naked [6] with her hair standing on end, and her eyes half closed, with a large patch of red lead upon her forehead, with her lips trembling in muttering charms, in the midst of a great circle [7] strewed with various coloured powders, after offering a horrible oblation of blood, spirits and human flesh. She for her part, when the king entered, in her confusion seized her garments, and when questioned by him immediately answered, after craving pardon for what she had done: “I have gone through this ceremony in order that you might obtain prosperity, and now, my lord, listen to the way in which I learnt these rites, and the secret of my magic skill.

 

24a . Kuvalayāvalī and the Witch Kālarātri

Long ago, when I was living in my father’s house, I was thus addressed, while enjoying myself in the garden during the spring festival, by my friends who met me there:

“There is in this pleasure-garden an image of Gaṇeśa, the god of gods, in the middle of an arbour made of trees, and that image grants boons, and its power has been tested. Approach with devout faith that granter of petitions, and worship him, in order that you may soon obtain without difficulty a suitable husband.”

When I heard that, I asked my friends in my ignorance:

“What! do maidens obtain husbands by worshipping Gaṇeśa?”

Then they answered me:

“Why do you ask such a question? Without worshipping him no one obtains any success in this world; and in proof of it we will give you an instance of his power. Listen.”

Saying this, my friends told me the following tale: –

 

24aa . The Birth of Kārttikeya

Long ago, when Indra, oppressed by Tāraka, was desirous of obtaining a son from Siva to act as general of the gods, and the God of Love had been consumed, [8] Gaurī by performing austerities sought and gained as a husband the three-eyed god, who was engaged in a very long and terrible course of mortification. Then she desired the obtaining of a son, and the return to life of the God of Love, but she did not remember to worship Gaṇeśa in order to gain her end. So, when his beloved asked that her desire should be granted, Siva said to her:

“My dear goddess, the God of Love was born long ago from the mind of Brahmā, and no sooner was he born than he said in his insolence:

‘Whom shall I make mad (kan darpayāmi)?’

So Brahmā called him Kandarpa, and said to him:

‘Since thou art very confident, my son, avoid attacking Siva only, lest thou receive death from him.’

Though the creator gave him this warning, the ill-disposed god came to trouble my austerities, therefore he was burned up by me, and he cannot be created again with his body. [9] But I will create by my power a son from you, for I do not require the might of love in order to have offspring as mortals do.”

While the god, whose ensign is a bull, [10] was saying this to Pārvatī, Brahmā accompanied by Indra appeared before him; and when he had been praised by them, and entreated to bring about the destruction of the Asura Tāraka, Siva consented to beget on the goddess a son of his body. And, at their entreaty, he consented that the God of Love should be born without body in the minds of animate creatures, to prevent the destruction of created beings. And he gave permission to love to inflame his own mind; pleased with that, the creator went away and Pārvatī was delighted.

Some days after this, Siva in privacy pursued the sport of love with Umā. When there was no end to his amorous play, though centuries passed by, the triple world trembled at the friction thereof. Then from fear of the world perishing, the gods, by order of Brahmā, called to mind Agni in order to stop Siva’s amorous play. Agni, for his part, the moment they called him to mind, thinking that the foe of the God of Love was irresistible, and afraid to interfere, fled from the gods and entered the water; but the frogs, being burned by his heat, told the gods, who were searching for him, that he was in the water; then Agni by his curse immediately made the speech of the frogs thenceforth inarticulate, and again disappearing fled to a paradise tree. [11] There the gods found him, concealed in the trunk of the tree, in the form of a snail, for he was betrayed by the elephants and parrots, and he appeared to them. And after making by a curse the tongues of the parrots and the elephants incapable of clear utterance, he promised to do what the gods requested, having been praised by them. So he went to Siva and by his heat stopped Siva from his amorous play, and after inclining humbly before him, through fear of being cursed, he informed him of the commission the gods had given him. Siva, in his turn, as the impulse arose in him, deposited his seed in the fire. Neither the Fire nor Umā was able to bear this.

The goddess, distracted with anger and grief, said:

“I have not obtained a son from you after all”;

and Siva said to her:

“An obstacle has arisen in this matter, because you neglected to worship Gaṇeśa, the Lord of Obstacles; therefore adore him now in order that a son may speedily be born to us in the fire.”

When thus addressed by Siva, the goddess worshipped Gaṇeśa, and the fire became pregnant with that germ of Siva. Then, bearing that embryo of Siva, the fire shone even in the day as if the sun had entered into it. And then it discharged into the Ganges the germ difficult to bear, and the Gaṇas, by the order of Siva, placed it in a sacrificial cavity on Mount Meru. There that germ was watched by the Gaṇas, Siva’s attendants, and after a thousand years had developed it, it became a boy with six faces. [12] Then, drinking milk with his six mouths from the breasts of the six Kṛttikās [13] appointed by Gaurī to nurse him, the boy grew big in a few days. In the meanwhile, the king of the gods, overcome by the Asura Tāraka, fled to the difficult peaks of Mount Meru, abandoning the field of battle. And the gods, together with the Rishis, went to the six-mouthed Kārttikeya for protection, and he, defending the god, remained surrounded by them. When Indra heard that, he was troubled, considering that his kingdom was taken from him, and being jealous he went and made war upon Kārttikeya. But from the body of Kārttikeya, when struck by the thunderbolt of Indra, there sprang two sons called Sākha and Viśākha, both of incomparable might.

Then Siva came to his offspring Kārttikeya, who exceeded Indra in might, and forbade him and his two sons to fight, and rebuked him in the following words: –

“Thou wast born in order that thou mightest slay Tāraka and protect the realm of Indra, therefore do thy own duty.”

Then Indra was delighted, and immediately bowed before him, and commenced the ceremony of consecrating by ablutions Kārttikeya as general of his forces.

But when he himself lifted the pitcher for that purpose, his arm became stiff, wherefore he was despondent, but Siva said to him:

“Thou didst not worship the elephant-faced god when thou desiredst a general; it was for this reason that thou hast met with this obstacle, therefore adore him now.”

Indra, when he heard that, did so, and his arm was set free, and he duly performed the joyful ceremony of consecrating the general. And, not long after, the general slew the Asura Tāraka, and the gods rejoiced at having accomplished their object, and Gaurī at having obtained a son. So, princess, you see even the gods are not successful without honouring Gaṇeśa, therefore adore him when you desire a blessing.

 

24a. Kuvalayāvalī and the Witch Kālarātri

After hearing this from my companions, I went, my husband, and worshipped an image of Gaṇeśa that stood in a lonely part of the garden, and after I had finished the worship I suddenly saw that those companions of mine had flown up by their own power and were disporting themselves in the fields of the air; when I saw that, out of curiosity I called them and made them come down from the heaven, and when I asked them about the nature of their magic power, they immediately gave me this answer:

“These are the magic powers of witches’ spells, and they are due to the eating of human flesh, and our teacher in this is a Brāhman woman known by the name of Kālarātri.”

When my companions said this to me, I, being desirous of acquiring the power of a woman that can fly in the air, but afraid of eating human flesh, was for a time in a state of hesitation; then, eager to possess that power, I said to those friends of mine:

“Cause me also to be instructed in this science.”

And immediately they went and brought, in accordance with my request, Kālarātri, who was of repulsive appearance. Her eyebrows met, [14] she had dull eyes, a depressed flat nose, large cheeks, widely parted lips, projecting teeth, a long neck, pendulous breasts, a large belly, and broad expanded feet. She appeared as if the creator had made her as a specimen of his skill in producing ugliness. [15] When I fell at her feet, after bathing and worshipping Gaṇeśa, she made me take off my clothes and perform, standing in a circle, a horrible ceremony in honour of Siva in his terrific form, and after she had sprinkled me with water she gave me various spells known to her, and human flesh to eat that had been offered in sacrifice to the gods; so, after I had eaten man’s flesh and had received the various spells, I immediately flew up, naked as I was, into the heaven with my friends, and after I had amused myself, I descended from the heaven by command of my teacher, and I, the princess, went to my own apartments. Thus even in my girlhood I became one of the society of witches, [16] and in our meetings we devoured the bodies of many men. But listen, King, to a story which is a digression from my main tale.

 

24b. Sundaraka and the Witches

That Kālarātri had for husband a Brāhman of the name of Viṣṇusvāmin, and he, being an instructor in that country, taught many pupils who came from different lands, as he was skilful in the exposition of the Vedas. And among his pupils he had one young man of the name of Sundaraka, the beauty of whose person was set off by his excellent character. One day the teacher’s wife Kālarātri being love-sick secretly courted him, her husband having gone away to some place or other. Truly Kāma makes great sport with ugly people as his laughing-stocks, in that she, not considering her own appearance, fell in love with Sundaraka. But he, though tempted, detested with his whole soul the crime; however women may misbehave, the mind of the good is not to be shaken.

Then, he having departed, Kālarātri in a rage tore her own body with bites and scratches, and she remained weeping, [17] with dress and locks disordered, until the teacher Viṣṇusvāmin entered the house.

And when he had entered she said to him:

“Look, my lord, to this state has Sundaraka reduced me, endeavouring to gain possession of me by force.” [18]

As soon as the teacher heard that, he was inflamed with anger; for confidence in women robs even wise men of their power of reflection; and when Sundaraka returned home at night he ran upon him, and he and his pupils kicked him, and struck him with fists and sticks; moreover, when he was senseless with the blows, he ordered his pupils to fling him out in the road by night, without regard to his safety; and they did so.

Then Sundaraka was gradually restored to consciousness by the cool night breeze, and seeing himself thus outraged he reflected:

“Alas! the instigation of a woman troubles the minds even of those men whose souls are not under the dominion of passion, as a storm disturbs the repose of lakes which are not reached by dust. [19] This is why that teacher of mine, in the excess of his anger, though old and wise, was so inconsiderate as to treat me so cruelly. But the fact is, lust and wrath are appointed in the dispensation of fate, from the very birth even of wise Brāhmans, to be the two bolts on the door of their salvation. [20] For were not the sages long ago angry with Siva in the devadāru wood, being afraid that their wives would go astray? And they did not know that he was a god, as he had assumed the appearance of a Buddhist mendicant, with the intention of showing Umā that even Rishis do not possess self-restraint. But after they had cursed him, they discovered that he was the ruling god that shakes the three worlds, and they fled to him for protection. So it appears that even hermits injure others when beguiled by the six faults that are enemies of man, [21] lust, wrath and their crew, much more so Brāhmans learned in the Vedas.”

Thinking thus, Sundaraka, from fear of robbers during the night, climbed up and took shelter in a neighbouring cow-house. And while he was crouching unobserved in a corner of that cow-house, Kālarātri came into it with a drawn sword in her hand, [22] terrible from the hissing she uttered, with wind and flames issuing from her mouth and eyes, accompanied by a crowd of witches. Then the terrified Sundaraka, beholding Kālarātri arriving in such a guise, called to mind the spells that drive away Rākṣasas, and bewildered by these spells Kālarātri did not see him crouching secretly in a corner, with his limbs drawn together from fear. Then Kālarātri with her friends recited the spells that enable witches to fly, and they flew up into the air, cow-house and all.

And Sundaraka heard the spell and remembered it; [23] but Kālarātri with the cow-house quickly flew through the air to Ujjayinī: there she made it descend by a spell in a garden of herbs, and went and sported in the cemetery among the witches: and immediately Sundaraka, being hungry, went down into the garden of herbs and made a meal on some roots which he dug up, and after he had allayed the pangs of hunger, and returned to the cow-house, Kālarātri came back in the middle of the night from her meeting. Then she got up into the cow-house, and, just as before, she flew through the air with her pupils by the power of her magic, and returned home in the night. And after she had replaced the cow-house, which she made use of as a vehicle, in its original situation, and had dismissed those followers of hers, she entered her sleeping apartment. And Sundaraka, having thus passed through that night, astonished at the troubles he had undergone, in the morning left the cow-house and went to his friends; there he related what had happened to him, and, though desirous of going to some other country, he was comforted by those friends and took up his abode among them, and leaving the dwelling of his teacher, and taking his meals in the almshouse for Brāhmans, he lived there, enjoying himself at will in the society of his friends.

One day Kālarātri, having gone out to buy some necessaries for her house, saw Sundaraka in the market. And being once more love-sick, she went up to him and said to him a second time:

“Sundaraka, enjoy me even now, for my life depends on you.”

When she said this to him, the virtuous Sundaraka said to her:

“Do not speak thus, it is not right; you are my mother, as being the wife of my teacher.”

Then Kālarātri said:

“If you know what is right, then grant me my life, for what righteousness is greater than the saving of life?”

Then Sundaraka said:

“Mother, [24] do not entertain this wish, for what righteousness can there be in approaching the bed of my preceptor?”

Thus repulsed by him, and threatening him in her wrath, she went home, after tearing her upper garment with her own hand, and showing the garment to her husband, she said to him:

“Look, Sundaraka ran upon me and tore this garment of mine in this fashion.”

So her husband went in his anger and stopped Sundaraka’s supply of food at the almshouse, by saying that he was a felon who deserved death. [25] Then Sundaraka in disgust, being desirous of leaving that country, and knowing the spell for flying up into the air which he had learnt in the cowhouse, but being conscious that he had forgotten, after hearing it, the spell for descending from the sky, which he had been taught there also, again went in the night to that deserted cow-house, and while he was there Kālarātri came as before, and flying up in the cow-house in the same way as on the former occasion, travelled through the air to Ujjayinī, and having made the cow-house descend by a spell in the garden of herbs, went again to the cemetery to perform her nightly ceremonies.

And Sundaraka heard that spell again, but failed again to retain it; for how can magic practices be thoroughly learnt without explanation by a teacher? Then he ate some roots there, and put some others in the cow-house to take away with him, and remained there as before; then Kālarātri came, and climbing up into the cow-house, flew through the air by night, and stopping the vehicle, entered her house. In the morning Sundaraka also left that house, and taking the roots with him he went to the market in order to procure money with which to purchase food. And while he was selling them there some servants of the king, who were natives of Mālava, took them away without paying for them, seeing that they were the produce of their own country. Then he began to remonstrate angrily, so they manacled him, and took him before the king on a charge of throwing stones at them, and his friends followed him.

Those villains said to the king:

“This man, when we asked him how he managed continually to bring roots from Mālava and sell them in Ujjayinī, would not give us any answer; on the contrary he threw stones at us.”

When the king heard this, he asked about that marvel: [26] then his friends said:

“If he is placed on the palace with us, he will explain the whole wonder, but not otherwise.”

The king consented, and Sundaraka was placed on the palace, whereupon by the help of the spell he suddenly flew up into the heaven with the palace. And travelling on it with his friends, he gradually reached Prayāga, [27] and being now weary, he saw a certain king bathing there, and after stopping the palace there, he plunged from the heaven into the Ganges, and, beheld with wonder by all, he approached that king.

The king, inclining before him, said to him:

“Who art thou, and why hast thou descended from heaven?”

Sundaraka answered:

“I am an attendant of the god Siva, named Mura j aka, and by his command I have come to thee desiring human pleasures.”

When the king heard this, he supposed it was true, and gave him a city, rich in corn, filled with jewels, with women and all the insignia of rank. Then Sundaraka entered that city and flew up into the heaven with his followers, and for a long time roamed about at will, free from poverty. Lying on a golden bed, and fanned with chowries by beautiful women, he enjoyed happiness like that of Indra. Then once on a time a Siddha, that roamed in the air, with whom he had struck up a friendship, gave him a spell for descending from the air, and Sundaraka, having become possessed of this spell enabling him to come down to earth, descended from the sky-path in his own city of Kanyākubja.

Then the king, hearing that he had come down from heaven, possessed of full prosperity, with a city, went in person to meet him out of curiosity, and Sundaraka, when recognised and questioned, knowing what to say on all occasions, informed the king of all his own adventures brought about by Kālarātri. Then the king sent for Kālarātri and questioned her, and she fearlessly confessed her improper conduct; and the king was angry, and made up his mind to cut off her ears, but she, when seized, disappeared before the eyes of all the spectators. Then the king forbade her to live in his kingdom, and Sundaraka, having been honourably treated by him, returned to the air.

 

24a. Kuvalayāvalī and the Witch Kālarātri

Having said this to her husband, the King Ādityaprabha, the Queen Kuvalayāvalī went on to say:

“King, such magic powers, produced by the spells of witches, do exist, and this thing happened in my father’s kingdom, and it is famous in the world, and, as I told you at first, I am a pupil of Kālarātri’s, but because I am devoted to my husband I possess greater power even than she did. And to-day you saw me just at the time when I had performed ceremonies to ensure your welfare, and was endeavouring to attract by a spell a man to offer as a victim. So do you enter now into our practice, and set your foot on the head of all kings, conquering them by magic power.” [28]

 

24. Story of Phalabhūti

When he heard this proposal, the king at first rejected it, saying:

“What propriety is there in a king connecting himself with the eating of human flesh, the practice of witches?”

But when the queen was bent on committing suicide, he consented; for how can men who are attracted by the objects of passion remain in the good path? Then she made him enter into the circle previously consecrated, and said to the king after he had taken an oath.

“I attempted to draw hither as a victim that Brāhman named Phalabhūti, who is so intimate with you, but drawing him hither is a difficult task, so it is the best way to initiate some cook in our rites, that he may himself slay him and cook him. And you must not feel any compunction about it, because by eating a sacrificial offering of his flesh, after the ceremonies are complete, the enchantment will be perfect, for he is a Brāhman of the highest caste.”

When his beloved said this to him, the king, though afraid of the sin, a second time consented. Alas! terrible is compliance with women! Then that royal couple had the cook summoned, whose name was Sāhasika, and after encouraging him, and initiating him, they both said to him:

“Whoever comes to you to-morrow morning and says,

‘The king and queen will eat together to-day, so get some food ready quickly,’

him you must slay, and make for us secretly a savoury dish of his flesh.”

When the cook heard this, he consented, and went to his own house. And the next morning, when Phalabhūti arrived, the king said to him:

“Go and tell the cook Sāhasika in the kitchen:

‘The king together with the queen will eat to-day a savoury mess, therefore prepare as soon as possible a splendid dish.’”

Phalabhūti said, “I will do so,” and went out.

When he was outside, the prince whose name was Chandra-prabha came to him, and said:

“Have made for me this very day with this gold a pair of earrings, like those you had made before for my noble father.”

When the prince said this, Phalabhūti, in order to please him, went that moment, as he was commissioned, to get the earrings made, and the prince readily went with the king’s message, which Phalabhūti told him, alone to the kitchen. When he got there and told the king’s message, the cook Sāhasika, true to his agreement, immediately killed him with a knife, and made a dish of his flesh, which the king and queen, after performing their ceremonies, ate, not knowing the truth; [29] and after spending that night in remorse, the next morning the king saw Phalabhūti arrive with the earrings in his hand.

So, being bewildered, he questioned him about the earrings immediately; and when Phalabhūti had told him his story, the king fell on the earth, and cried out, “Alas, my son !” blaming the queen and himself; and when his ministers questioned him, he told them the whole story, and repeated what Phalabhūti had said every day:

“‘The doer of good will obtain good, and the doer of evil, evil.’

Often the harm that one wishes to do to another, recoils on oneself, as a ball thrown against a wall rebounding frequently; thus we, wicked ones, desiring to slay a Brāhman, have brought about our own son’s death, and devoured his flesh.”

After the king had said this, and informed his ministers, who stood with their faces fixed on the earth, of the whole transaction, and after he had anointed that very Phalabhūti as king in his place, he made a distribution of alms, and then, having no son, entered the fire with his wife to purify himself from guilt, though already consumed by the fire of remorse: and Phalabhūti, having obtained the royal dignity, ruled the earth; thus good or evil done by a man is made to return upon himself.

 

[M] Having related the above tale in the presence of the King of Vatsa, Yaugandharāyaṇa again said to that king:

“If Brahmadatta therefore were to plot against you, O great King, who, after conquering him, treated him kindly, he ought to be slain.”

When the chief minister had said this to him, the King of Yatsa approved of it, and rising up went to perform the duties of the day, and the day following he set out from Lāvānaka to go to his own city Kauśāmbī, having accomplished his objects in effecting the conquest of the regions. In course of time the lord of earth, accompanied by his retinue, reached his own city, which seemed to be dancing with delight, imitating with banners uplifted the taper arms [30] of the dancing-girl. So he entered the city, producing at every step, in the lotus garden composed of the eyes of the women of the city, the effect of the rising of a breeze. And the king entered his palace, sung by minstrels, praised by bards, and worshipped by kings.

Then the monarch of Yatsa laid his commands on the kings of every land, who bowed before him, and triumphantly ascended that throne, the heirloom of his race, which he had found long ago in the deposit of treasure. And the heaven was filled with the combined high and deep echoes of the sound of the drums, which accompanied the auspicious ceremonies on that occasion, like simultaneous shouts of applause uttered by the guardians of the world, each in his several quarter, being delighted with the prime minister of the King of Vatsa. Then the monarch, who was free from avarice, distributed to the Brāhmans all kinds of wealth acquired by the conquest of the world, and, after great festivities, satisfied the desires of the company of kings and of his own ministers.

Then in that city filled with the noise of drums resembling the thunder of the clouds, while the king was raining benefits on the fields [31] according to each man’s desert, the people, expecting great fruit in the form of corn, kept high festival in every house. Having thus conquered the world, that victorious king devolved on Rumaṇvat and Yaugandharāyaṇa the burden of his realm, and lived at ease there with Vāsavadattā and Padmāvatī. So he, being praised by excellent bards, seated between those two queens as if they were the goddesses of Fame and Fortune, enjoyed the rising of the moon, white as his own glory, and continually drank wine as he had swallowed the might of his foes.

Comments:

[1] For the worship of trees and tree-spirits, see Grimm’s Teutonic Mythology, p. 75 et seq., and Tylor’s Primitive Culture, vol. ii, p. 1 96 et seq. – Besides the references already given in Vol. I, p. 144n1, see also Sidney Hartland, Legend of Perseus, 1895, vol. ii, pp. 175-231; Crooke, Popular Religion of Northern India, vol. ii, pp. 83-121; Westermarck, Origin and Development of the Moral Idea (2nd edit.), 1919, vol. ii, p. 516; T. C. Hodson, “Primitive Culture of India,” Roy. As. Soc., 1922, p. 104. – n.m.p.

[2] See Vol. I, pp. 190-193. – n.m.p.

[3] I here read durdaśāḥ for the durdarśāḥ of Dr Brockhaus’ text. It must be a misprint. A MS. in the Sanskrit College reads durdaśāḥ.

[4] The Guhyakas are demigods, attendants upon Kuvera and guardians of his wealth. – See Vol. I, Appendix I, p. 203. – n.m.p.

[5] See note, p. 162 . – n.m.p.

[6] Literally, “having the cardinal points as her only garment.” – For nudity in ritual and magic see Note 1 at the end of this chapter. – n.m.p.

[7] For the circle see Henry VI, Part II, Act i, sc. 4, line 25, and Henry V, Act v, sc. 2, line 420: “If you would conjure... you must make a circle.” See also Ralston’s Russian Folk-Tales, p. 272; Veckenstedt’s Wendische Sagen, pp. 292, 302,303. See also Wirt Sikes, British Goblins, pp. 200, 201; Henderson’s Northern Folk-Lore, p. 19; Bartsch’s Sagen, Märchen und Gebräuche aus Meklen-burg, vol. i, pp. 128, 213. Prof. Jebb, in his notes on Theophrastus’ “Superstitious Man,” observes:

“The object of all those ceremonies, in which the offerings were carried round the person or place to be purified, was to trace a charmed circle within which the powers of evil should not come.”

Cf. also Grössler’s Sagen aus der Grafschaft Mansfeld, p. 217; Brand’s Popular Antiquities, vol. iii, p. 56; Grohmann’s Sagen aus Böhmen, p. 226. – In his Popular Religion and Folk-Lore of Northern India (vol. i, pp. 103, 142; vol. ii, p. 41) W. Crooke gives details of the circle among the Hindus. For the magic circle in Babylonia, Assyria and adjacent countries see R. Campbell Thompson, Semitic Magic, 1908, pp. lx et. seq., 102, 123, 165, 204 and 207. The numerous mediæval references in the works of William of Auvergne, Roger Bacon, Raymond Lull, Peter of Abano, etc., are all to be found in Thorndike, A History of Magic and Experimental Science, 1923. (See the General Index in each volume under “Circle, magic.”) For a comprehensive article on the whole subject reference should be made to A. E. Crawley, “Magical Circle,” Hastings’ Ency. Rel. Eth., vol. viii, pp. 321-324. I would also draw the attention of readers to the exhaustive series of articles on “Magic” by a large number of eminent scholars in the same volume (pp. 245-321).

It appears that the use of the magical circle is really twofold. Firstly it serves as a protective barrier to the dead and dying, and also round a house, subsequently giving rise to the superstitions connected with wedding rings, bangles, etc. Secondly it appears in black magic as a kind of magical vantage ground in which the “ operator” is himself safe and to which he can compel the presence of evil spirits. The circle also denotes finality and continuity. It commands every point of the compass and can be regarded as an inner concentric circle of the horizon itself. All these points are made quite clear if we look through the voluminous literature on the subject. There is, however, one further point I would mention. The circle is not only a safe place to be in when “conjuring” but often acts as a prison from which escape is impossible. Thus in J. H. Bridges, Opus Maius of Roger Bacon, vol. ii, p. 208, we read:

“Moreover, there are numerous things which kill every venomous animal by the slightest contact; and if a circle is drawn about such animals with objects of this sort [herbs, stones, metals, etc.] they cannot get out, but die without having been touched.”

Cf with this the curious story of the magic circle made of dittany juice as told in Appendix III of this volume, p. 295. In Chapter XXXVII we shall come across a great circle made of ashes, where I shall add a further note. – n.m.p.

[8] I.e. by the fire of Śiva’s eye.

[9] Perhaps we ought to read sadehasya. I find this reading in a MS. lent to me by the Librarian of the Sanskrit College with the kind permission of the Principal.

[10] I.e. Śiva.

[11] The correct reading here is mandara paradise” tree; Tawney originally had “place of refuge.” – n.m.p.

[12] Cf. with this wild legend a similar one in the first book of the Rāmāyaṇa. Tawney omitted some details here in the translation. They have now been added from the D. text by Dr Barnett. – n.m.p.

[13] I.e. the six Pleiades.

[14[ Mr Tylor (in his Primitive Culture, vol. ii, p. 176), speaking of Slavonian superstition, says: “A man whose eyebrows meet as if his soul were taking flight to enter some other body, may be marked by this sign either as a werewolf or a vampire.” In Icelandic Sagas a man with meeting eyebrows is said to be a werewolf. The same idea holds in Denmark, also in Germany, whilst in Greece it is a sign that a man is a Brukolak or vampire (note by Baring-Gould in Henderson’s Folk-Lore of the Northern Counties). The same idea is found in Bohemia, see Grohmann’s Sagen aus Böhmen, p. 210. Cf. Grimm’s Irische Märchen, p. cviii. – See Tawney’s original note on this subject in Ind. Ant., vol. vii, 1878, p. 87. We have already seen (Vol. I, p. 214) that the Persians considered joined eyebrows beautiful. The Arabs held the same views, and we read in the Nights (Burton, vol. i, p. 227; vol. iii, p. 164; vol. viii, p. 206) of “high-bosomed maids and of an equal age, with black eyes and cheeks like the rose, joined eyebrows and looks languorous” and “she had eyes koḥl’d with nature’s dye and joined eyebrows, a mouth as it were Solomon’s seal and lips and teeth bright with pearls’ and coral’s ight.” – n.m.p.

[15] The D. text reads nayanānanavāntolkā as one of the epithets, “casting forth flames out of her eyes and mouth.” The Arab story-tellers have equally lucid descriptions of old hags and witches. Thus in the Nights (Burton, vol. ii, p. 233) we read:

“Now this accursed old woman was a witch of the witches, past mistress in sorcery and deception; wanton and wily, deboshed and deceptious; with foul breath, red eyelids, yellow' cheeks, dull-brown face, eyes bleared, mangy body, hair grizzled, back humped, skin withered and wan, and nostrils which ever ran.”

Similarly in vol. viii, p. 86, Hasan meets a “grizzled old woman, blue-eyed [unlucky] and big-nosed, a calamity of calamities, the foulest of all created things, with face pockmarked and eyebrows bald, gap-toothed and chap-fallen, with hair hoary, nose running and mouth slavering...” – n.m.p.

[16] These magical rides in the air remind us of the orgies held by witches on the Brocken mountain in the Harz on Walpurgis night (1st May). Readers will, naturally, think of the famous “Brocken scene” in Goethe’s Faust. See the Index volume to Frazer’s Golden Bough, p. 517. A similar night was 31st October, known as Hallowe’en or All-Hallows day, which was the one night in all the year that ghosts and witches were sure to be found wandering about. See Brand’s Popular Antiquities of Great Britain, 1882-1883; Grimm’s Deutsche Mythologie, ch. xx (Elemente) and ch. xxxiv; and the references given in Frazer, Golden Bough, vol. x, p. 266 et seq., and vol. xi, pp. 184n4, 185. – N.M.P.

[17] I read āsta for āśu.

[18] See Note 2 at the end of this chapter. – n.m.p.

[19] Rajas in Sanskrit means “dust” and also “passion.”

[20] I.e. immunity from future births.

[21] I.e. desire, wrath, covetousness, bewilderment, pride and envy.

[22] Cf. the Æthiopica of Heliodorus, Book VII, ch. xv, where the witch is armed with a sword during her incantations; and Homer’s Odyssey, xi, 48. See also for the magic virtues of steel, Liebrecht, Zur Volkskunde, pp. 312, 313.

[23] See Veckenstedt’s Wendische Sagen, p. 289, where a young man overhears a spell with similar results. See also Bartsch’s Sagen, Märchen und Gebräuche aus Meklenburg, vol. i, p. 115. – This well-known motif has already occurred in the Ocean of Story (Vol. I, p. 48), where Vararuchi discovers why the fish laughed by overhearing the conversation of a female Rākṣasa. I gave a few analogues in a short note (p. 48n2) and will add some more in a note in Vol. III, Chapter XXIX. I shall, therefore, chiefly confine myself here to a brief discussion of the origin of the motif with special reference to the art of learning the languages of animals.

That birds and beasts have a language of their own which can sometimes be understood by human beings is a most natural and universal motif of folktales. All manner of ways in which this great gift can be obtained have suggested themselves to the story-teller. It is sometimes given as a reward for some kind service rendered to an animal, it may be acquired by the aid of magic, it can be a boon from a god, or the hero may be actually born with the power. Primitive minds have always credited animals with great wisdom and understanding, and as possessing important secrets which can only be discovered if the language is understood. Stories have, therefore, naturally arisen to explain how the hero acquired this most useful gift.

The language of birds enters into folk-lore much more than the language of beasts. This is not to be wondered at, owing, I think, to the simple fact that a bird can get to inaccessible places much more easily than a beast. Thus the bird can fly to a magic island, to an enchanted tree or a hidden cave – it can perch on the window-sill of a room and see and hear what goes on inside. In fact it becomes a most useful Deus ex machina to the story-teller. The English expression “ a little bird told me” contains the same idea. Cf. Eccles. x, 20.

But to return to the motif of overhearing. A bird or beast meets his mate and proceeds to tell his most recent adventures – what strange place he has visited, what rare jewel he has found, or the latest scandal from the palace in the neighbouring city. The hero in nearly all cases happens to be hiding or sleeping in the tree on which the birds perch or under which the animals are resting.

In other cases it is supernatural beings who converse – Rākṣasas, giants, vampires, etc. Sometimes they give away a secret which is fatal to themselves – a snake will tell his companion what is the only way he could be killed, and, of course, the hero takes the tip at the earliest opportunity, usually securing some hidden jewel or gold.

The above gives, roughly, the usual uses to which this motif is put. The origin of the idea can perhaps be traced to homoeopathic or imitative magic. Thus if you wish to acquire a certain quality of an animal all you have to do is to kill it and eat it, and, ipso facto, the particular quality of your victim becomes yours. In a widely distributed number of stories the eating of a snake imparts the power of understanding the language of birds and beasts. The exact reason for this is not clear unless it is because the snake (or dragon) is often considered as half-way between a beast and a bird. It is interesting to note that Pliny (Hist. Nat., x, 137; xxix, 72) reports Democritus to have said that serpents were generated from the mixed blood of certain birds, and that in consequence anyone who ate a serpent would acquire the power to understand the bird language. In describing the “Dragons of India,” Apollonius of Tyana (iii, 9) says that the Indians eat the dragon’s heart and liver in order to be able to understand the language and thoughts of animals. During his sojourn among the Arab tribes he is said to have mastered this great art and to have listened to the birds, as these predict the future (i, 20). See Thorndike, A History of Magic and Experimental Science, vol. i, p. 261 . For other examples of the use of the snake to give the power of understanding the language of birds see J. A. Macculloch, The Childhood of Fiction, p. 41; Frazer, Golden Bough, vol. viii, p. 146.

At times (see for instance Tawney’s Prabandhacintāmaṇi, p. 174) it is an ordinary human conversation that is overheard, but I would not include these examples under this motif (as does Bloomfield, Life and Stories of Pārçvanātha, p. 185), as such an ordinary and commonplace occurrence ceases to have the same degree of interest and importance as the overheard conversation of the animal world. As we shall see in my note in Chapter XXIX, the motif of overhearing is found in the Mahābhārata, the Jātakas, Pañchatantra, Kathākoça, Pariśiṣṭaparvan and numerous collections of Indian tales – such as those by Temple, Frere, Steel, Day, etc. For further references see Clouston, Popular Tales and Fictions, vol. i, pp. 242-248; ditto, A Group of Eastern Romances and Stories, pp. 505, 510; Chauvin, Bibliographie des Ouvrages Arabes, v, p. 180, and G. Nicasi, “Le credenze religiose delle popolazioni rurali dell’alte valle del Taveri,” in Lares, vol. i (1912), p. 169. – n.m.p.

[24] See note on p. 201n3 of this volume. – n.m.p.

[25] See Note 2 at the end of this chapter. – n.m.p.

[26] I read tan tad.

[27] Called more usually by English people Allāhābād.-Prayāga means “the place of sacrifice,” while Allāhābād, “abode of Allāh,” was the name given to the place by Akbar in 1572. For further details see Cunningham, Archæological Reports, vol. i, p. 296 et seq. – n.m.p.

[28] From the days of the ancient Egyptians it was customary for kings to dabble in magic, and the magicians of Pharaoh often had Pharaoh himself as a pupil. See Maspero, Popular Stories of Ancient Egypt, p. 1. In a note he says:

“Even as late as the time of the Renaissance a prince was more highly regarded because he was a sorcerer. For example, in the Weisskunig one finds the young Maximilian of Austria instructed by his ecclesiastical preceptors not only in the secrets of white magic, but of black.” – n.m.p.

[29] This incident reminds one of Schiller’s ballad: “Der Gang nach dem Eisenhammer” (Benfey, Pañchatantra, vol. i, p. 320). The story of Fridolin in Schiller’s ballad is identical with the story of Fulgentius which is found in the English Gesta Romanorum (see Bohn’s Gesta Romanorum, Introduction, p. 1). Douce says that the story is found in Scott’s Tales from the Arabic and Persian, p. 53, and in the Contes Dévots or Miracles of the Virgin (Le Grand, Fabliaux, v, 74). Mr Collier states upon the authority of M. Boettiger that Schiller founded his ballad upon an Alsatian tradition which he heard at Mannheim. Cf also the eightieth of the Sicilianische Märchen, which ends with these words: “Wer gutes ihut, wird gutes erhalten.” There is a certain resemblance in this story to that of Equitan in Marie’s Lais. See Ellis’s Early English Metrical Romances, pp. 46 and 47. It also resembles the story of Lalitānga in the Kathākoqa (see my translation, p. 166), and the conclusion of the story of Damannaka (pp. 173, 174). The story of Fridolin is also found in Schöppner’s Sagenbuch der Bayerischen Lande, vol. i, p. 204.-

As Tawney mentions above, the incident in our story appears in the Contes Dévots. The title of this tale is: “D’un Roi qui voulut faire brûler le fils de son Seneschal.” It was adapted in the Italian Cento Novelle Antiche, No. 68, where the plot is cleverly worked out. An envious knight advises one of the king’s favourites, of whom he is jealous, to hold his head farther back when serving the king, who, he says, objects to his unpleasant breath. The knight then tells the king that his favourite page acts in this way to avoid his breath. The enraged monarch orders his kilnman to throw the first man who brings him a message into the furnace. The page is immediately dispatched, but passing a monastery, goes in to listen to Mass. The knight now sets out to see if his plan has worked, and arrives at the kiln before the page, where he pays the penalty of his wickedness.

The story is also found in a work of Walter Mapes of the twelfth century. It was printed and annotated by Thomas Wright, De Nugis Cnrialium (1850), Camden Society. It reappears in the Liber de Donis of Etienne de Bourbon (thirteenth century); John of Bromyard’s Summa Prædicantium (fourteenth century); the Dialogus Creaturarum of Nicolaus Pergamenus, etc. Reference should be made to Clouston, Popular Tales and Fictions, vol. ii, pp. 44 445, whence these latter have been taken.

The Arabic form of the story is found in the Book of Sindibād, Clouston’s edition, pp. 137-141 (see also pp. 292, 293). Here a sultan adopts an abandoned infant who is given the name of Ahmed. When grown up he discovers by chance one day that the favourite concubine has a slave as lover. He does not report the matter, but the guilty woman is afraid, and feigning to have been raped by Ahmed, calls upon the sultan for a suitable punishment to be inflicted. The executioner is told to behead the first man who says to him: “Hast thou performed the business?” Ahmed is told to ask this question in a certain house. On the way he meets a group of slaves, and among them is the concubine’s lover. He tries to delay Ahmed in order to get him into trouble with the king, and finally agrees to take the message himself – with the usual result.

Two similar tales occur in C. Vernieux, Indian Tales and Anecdotes, Calcutta, 1873. In the second of these it is a letter, and not a message, which is used as the instrument of death.

As already mentioned in Vol. I, p. 52n1 “the letter of death” motif is a lieu commun in folk-lore. It has been referred to by various names, such as the “Uriah letter,” “Bellerophon letter,” and “Mutalammis letter” motif, according as to which the particular author took as the standard example – the Biblical, Greek or Arabic.

I think, however, that a general term, such as that suggested above, is preferable. As compared with the “letter of death,” examples of the “message of death” are rare, but they are, of course, only different varieties of the same motif. I shall discuss this motif at greater length at the end of Chapter XLII, where a good example of the “ letter of death” occurs.

The incident of innocently eating the flesh or heart of a loved one is well known from the story in Boccaccio, day 4, nov. 10. For full details see Lee, The Decameron, its Sources and Analogues, pp. 152-156. – n.m.p.

[30] Literally, “creeper-like.”

[31] There is a double meaning here: kṣetra means “fit recipients” as well as “field.” The king no doubt distributed corn. – The point is obscured by Tawney’s translation. The poet uses as a term for “king” the word narendra, “Indra of men”; so the words mean that “the king (narendra) pours forth benefits upon worthy objects (kṣetras) with beating of drums, as the god Indra pours forth rain upon the fields (kṣetras) amidst the thunders of the clouds” (Barnett). – n.m.p.

 

NOTE 1. – NUDITY IN MAGIC RITUAL

In many forms of black magic nudity appears to be an essential factor. The reason for this is hard to explain, and many suggestions have been put forward.

The most probable are:

Dread of pollution which may arise during a rite, and so spoil the incantation.

Clothes used in a sacred or magical rite become taboo and cannot be used again.

In order to do abnormal things successfully, the state of the operator should also be abnormal; hence nudity is a great asset.

Complete nudity represents total submission to the spirit power whose aid is needed in the particular rite to be carried out.

Nudity is supposed to shock the spirits and so force them to grant the desired aid.

The belief in the apotropæic powers attributed to the sexual organs.

As will be readily seen, it would be little short of pure guess-work in most cases to pick out a nudity rite and definitely assign to it one or other of the above explanations. We can only be certain of the true reason when actions accompanying the ritual make it obvious. For instance, in many countries ceremonies to obtain rain are often carried out in a state of complete nudity. Here the reasons seem to be twofold. In the first place, as the nature of the rite is usually to produce rain, by drenching the body with water, or standing up to the neck in water, it is obvious that any clothes would be ruined. Secondly, if other methods have failed it is necessary to give the Rain God a shock, to wake him up, to arouse his pity or to make him give what is wanted through fear. Thus some unusual and curious sight would be bound to arrest his attention. A few examples will help to explain these points.

On the principles of homoeopathic or imitative magic, various methods to produce rain after a drought are employed in many parts of the world. After prayers and sacrifices have proved ineffective, other means are tried. Thus in the Rumanian village of Ploska both girls and women go naked at night to the boundaries of the village, and pour water on the ground, in the hope that the sky will do likewise. Similarly in Serbia a girl is stripped and covered in grass, flowers and herbs. She is then conducted, dancing and singing, to every house, where she has a pail of water thrown over her (Frazer, Golden Bough, vol. i, pp. 248, 273). In other cases nude women have recourse to a ploughing rite to procure rain. Thus in Russia they draw a furrow round the village, and bury at the juncture a cock, a cat and a dog. The cat is sacred, and the dog is considered a demonic character, so both sides are thus conciliated (Conway, Demonology, vol. i, p. 267). In Chunār, Mirzapur district, after the drought in 1892 had continued a long time, the following ceremony was performed secretly: –

“Between the hours of nine and ten p.m. a barber’s wife went from door to door and invited all the women to join in ploughing. They all collected in a field from which all males were excluded. Three women from a cultivator's family stripped off all their clothes; two were yoked to a plough like oxen, and a third held the handle.

They then began to imitate the operation of ploughing. The woman who had the plough in her hand shouted:

‘O Mother Earth! bring parched grain, water and chaff. Our bellies are bursting to pieces from hunger and thirst.’

Then the landlord and village accountant approached them and laid down some grain, water and chaffin the field. The women then dressed and went home”

(North Indian Notes and Queries, vol. i, p. 210).

Cf. Russell, Tribes and Castes of the Central Provinces, vol. iii, p. 563.

In a district of Transylvania the girls take off all their clothes and, led by an older woman, who is also naked, steal a barrow and carry it across the fields to a brook, where they set it afloat. They then sit on the barrow, keeping a tiny flame burning on each corner of it for an hour. Then they leave the barrow in the water and return home (Frazer, op. cit., p. 282, where other examples are also given).

Volleys of abuse and curses often accompany these rites; thus, when rain fails, the Meitheis of Manipur, headed by their Rājā, strip off all their clothes, and stand cursing each other in the streets of Imphāl, the capital town, while women strip themselves at night and throw rice-pounders into the river (T. C. Hodson, The Meitheis, p. 108. See also A. E. Crawley, “Dress,” Hastings’ Enci/.Rel. Eth., vol. v, p. 60).

Nudity also enters into fertility-rites practised by women. In the Panjāb on a Sunday or Tuesday night, or during the Divālī, or Feast of Lights, a barren woman desiring a child sits on a stool, which is then lowered down a well. After divesting herself of her clothes and bathing, she is drawn up again and performs the Chaukpūrnā ceremony with incantations taught by a wizard. Should there be any difficulty about descending the well, the ceremony is performed beneath a sacred pīpal or fig-tree. It is believed that, after such a ceremony is performed, the well runs dry and the tree withers, the Mana of both having been exhausted during the rite (Census Report, Panjāb, 1901, vol. i, p. 164. For another version see Panjab Notes and Queries, vol. iv, p. 58). Crooke records an interesting rite, also from the Panjāb, performed during the Divālī (“The Divālī, the Lamp Festival of the Hindus,” Folk-Lore, vol. xxxiv, Dec. 1923, p. 276. This was a posthumous publication). On the Amāvas, or no-moon night, barren women, and those who have lost several children, go to a place where four roads meet, strip themselves naked, and cover a piece of ground with the leaves of five “royal” trees, the ptpal(Jicusreligiosa), the bar ficus indica ), the siras (acacia speciosa), and the ām or mango. On this they lay a black bead representing the demigod Rāma, and, sitting down, bathe from pitchers containing water drawn from five wells, one in each of the four quarters of the town or village, and one outside it in the direction of the north-east. The water is poured from the pitchers into a vessel with a hole in the bottom, from which it is allowed to drop all over the women’s bodies. The well from which the water has been drawn for this purpose is supposed to lose its fertilising power and runs dry.

Magical powers of healing disease are often practised in a state of nudity. In the Sirsā district a man can cure a horse attacked by a fit by taking off all his clothes and striking the animal seven times with his shoe on its forehead. In the Jālandhar district paralysis in cattle is cured by a man stripping himself naked and walking round the animal with a wisp of burning straw in his hand. The Orāon tribe supplies many instances of similar practices. At the time of the rice harvest they practise a solemn rite for driving fleas out of the village, in the course of which young men strip off their clothes, bathe, wrap themselves in rice-straw, and march round the houses, where they receive doles of food (W. Crooke, “Nudity in India in Custom and Ritual,” Journ. Anth. Inst., vol. xlix, 1919, p. 248. See the whole paper for numerous other references, only a few of which are quoted in this note).

Semi-nudity has always been regarded by Brāhmans as a mark of respect when in a holy place or before superiors. Thus they bare their bodies in the more sacred precincts of a temple or in the presence of the Mahārāja. This is still observed at the Darbārs of H.H. the Mahārāja of Mysore (see Crooke, Joum. Anth. Inst., vol. xlix, p. 238).

In circumambulating the Kaaba at Mecca pilgrims at one time used to either strip or borrow other clothes, as their own would become taboo owing to contact with the sacred place or function (W. Robertson Smith, Lectures on the Religion of the Semites, 2nd edition, p. 481).

From the above examples we can see that there is a distinct mystic significance attached to the naked body, an uncanny power which can be utilised for the purposes of producing rain, procuring offspring, etc. But as is the case with all power, it can also be used for less praiseworthy purposes. It can be employed for acquiring magical properties, to gain control over a person or a spirit. Thus, in Gujarāt, to obtain control over a spirit, the Hindu exorcist goes to a burial-ground alone at midnight on the dark fourteenth day of Aso (October), unearths the body of a low-caste Hindu, and bathes in the river. After bathing, while still naked, he carries the body within a circle cut with a knife or formed by sprinkling a line of water; then he goes on muttering charms, and evil spirits of all kinds congregate round him (Bombay Gazetteer, vol. ix, part i, p. 418).

A strange story is told in the United Provinces of a noted witch, known as Lonā or Nonā Chamārin, a woman of the caste of leather-dressers. One day all the village women were transplanting rice, and it was noticed that Lonā could do as much work as all her companions put together. So they watched her, and when she thought she was unobserved she stripped off her clothes, muttered some spells, and throwing a bundle of seedlings into the air, each settled down into its proper hole (Crooke, Tribes and Castes of the North-West Provinces and Oudh, vol. ii, p. 171).

Finally there is the question of the apotropæic power of the sexual organs themselves to be considered. Hartland points out (see his article, “Phallism,” Hastings’ Ency. Rel. Eth., vol. ix, p. 830) that as the great instruments of reproduction, and consequently the enemies of sterility and death, the sexual organs are in many countries exhibited and employed, actually and by symbol – i.e. magically – to counteract the depredations of mortality. Furthermore, they are regarded as having prophylactic virtue against all sorts of evil influences. Hence their common use of priapic figures and ithyphallic statues. In his article quoted above, Hartland gives numerous references and examples, some of which we have already noticed.

 

NOTE 2. – WOMEN WHOSE LOVE IS SCORNED

As is only natural, the motif of the revenge of a woman whose love has been scorned enters into nearly every collection of stories in the world. It is, moreover, not only in fiction that we have records of such happenings. Apart from Joseph and Potiphar’s wife, we read (Paulin Paris, Étude sur les differents Textes, imprimés et manuscripts, du Roman des Sept Sages), of Fausta, second wife of Constantine the Great, who caused the death of Crispus, son of his first wife, and also of Lucinian, son of Lucinius, by similar false accusations. Then there was the case of Aśoka, the great Buddhist Emperor of India (274-237 B.C.). After the death of his first wife, named (according to the Ceylon records) Asandhimitrā, he married one of her attendants, Tishyarakṣitā, and made her his chief wife. She had fallen in love with Aśoka’s eldest son and heir (by another wife), Kuṇāla, Viceroy of Taxila. He rejected her advances, however, and was shortly sent abroad to put down a revolt. The Emperor became ill in his son’s absence and decided to recall Kuṇāla and set him on the throne. Tishyarakṣitā, seeing what this would mean for her, managed to cure the Emperor herself, obtaining in return the favour of exercising regal power for seven days. She immediately has Kuṇāla’s eyes put out, but later the blind son comes to the court disguised as a lute-player, and the queen is burnt. (See Benfey, Orient und Occident, vol. iii, p. 177; Cambridge History of India, vol. i, p. 500; Przyluski, “La Légende de l’Empereur Açoka,” Annales du Musée Guimet, vol. xxxiii, 1923, chap. iv, “ Avadāna de Kuṇāla,” p. 281-295.)

Both the above stories appear in W. A. Clouston’s Book of Sindibād, pp. xxvii, xxix, to which we shall refer again later.

In Greek legend we have the stories of Hippolytus and his stepmother Phædra; Phineus and his sons with their mother-in-law; Bellerophon and Anteia, wife of Prætus; and Peleus and Astydameia (called Hippolyte in Horace, Odes, iii, 7, 17), wife of Acastus.

The oldest tale of this nature comes from Egypt, and was current in Thebes towards the end of the XlXth Dynasty. It is known as “The Story of the Two Brothers,” and has already been referred to (Vol. I, pp. 129, 130) in connection with the “ External Soul” motif. I take the following from Maspero’s Popular Stories of Ancient Egypt. It forms the first story in his excellently annotated collection, and is preceded by a full bibliography.

The two brothers Anupu and Baîti lived in the same house. Anupu, the elder brother, was married and owned the house, while Baîti did all the field work and slept with the cows each night. One day both brothers were in the fields and Anupu sent Baîti to the village to get seed. He asks Anupu’s wife for it; she is dressing her hair and tells him to take it. He shoulders five measures of the seed, which exhibition of strength at once rouses her admiration.

“And her heart went out to him as one desires a young man. She arose, she laid hold on him, she said to him:

‘Come, let us lie together for the space of one hour. If thou wilt grant me this, in faith I will make thee two beauteous garments.’

The youth became like a cheetah of the south in hot rage, because of the evil suggestion she had made to him, and she was frightened exceedingly, exceedingly. He spake to her, saying;

‘But in truth thou art to me as a mother, and thy husband is to me as a father, and he who is my elder, it is he who enables me to live. Ah! this horrible thing that thou hast said to me, do not say it to me again, and for me I shall tell it to no one; I shall not let it escape from my mouth for anyone.’

He took up his burden and went to the fields. When he reached his elder brother they set to work at their labour.”

That evening Anupu’s wife tore her garments, rubbed fat on her body to look like bruises and told her husband, who was the first to get home, that his brother had reduced her to this condition. Accordingly Anupu prepares to slay Baîti and awaits his arrival behind the stable door. The cows, however, warn Baîti of his impending fate, and he flies with all his might. We then get the earliest example of the “Magical Impediments” motif – a sheet of waterfull of crocodiles separates the two brothers, and after waiting till the next morning Baîti tells his brother the whole truth, and castrates himself on the spot.

“The elder brother cursed his heart exceedingly, exceedingly, and he remained there and wept over him. He leapt, but he could not pass over to the bank where his younger brother was, because of the crocodiles.

His younger brother called to him, saying:

‘Thus whilst thou didst imagine an evil action, thou didst not recall one of the good actions or even one of the things that I did for thee. Ah! go to thy house, and do thou thyself care for thy cattle, for I shall not live longer in the place where thou art – I go to the Vale of the Acacia.’”

Anupu is overcome, and returning home kills his wife and throws her to the dogs.

Turning to India, we find examples of the motif occur very frequently. See, for instance, the story of “ Pāla und Gōpāla,” translated by J. Hertel, Indisclie Erzähler, vol. vii, 1922 , pp. 64-68.

In his Book of Sindibād (pp. xxx, xxxi) Clouston cites two examples from H. H. Wilson, Descriptive Catalogue of the Mackenzie Collection of Oriental MSS., etc., 1828.

“In a Telugū palm-leaf manuscript entitled Sārangdhara Charita, the hero, Sārangdhara, is the son of Rājamahendra, King of Rājamahendri, whose stepmother Chitrāngī falls in love with him. He rejects her advances, on which she accuses him to the king of attempting to violate her, and the king orders him to have his feet cut off, and to be exposed in the forest to wild beasts. There a voice from heaven proclaims that the prince in his former life was Jayanta, minister of Dhaval Chandra, w'ho, being envious of Sumanta, one of his colleagues, contrived to hide the slippers of Sumanta under the bed of the queen. The king, finding them and ascertaining whose they were, commanded Sumanta to be exposed to wild beasts after having his legs and hands cut off; in retribution of which Jayanta, now Sârangdhara, suffers the like mutilation. He acknowledges the justice of the sentence, and his wounds are healed by a Yogī. A voice from heaven apprises the king of the innocence of his son, and he takes Sârangdhara back and puts Chitrāngī to death. Sârangdhara adopts a religious life. In the Tamil version, when the prince has been mutilated and cast into the jungle, his dead mother’s lamentations are heard by the Siddhas, who restore the prince’s limbs, and a voice from heaven apprises the king of Chitrāngī’s guilt. Again: In the Kumara Rāma Charita, Ratnangī, one of the wives of Rāja Kāmpila, became enamoured of Kumara Rāma, his youngest son, and importuned him to gratify her desires. Finding him inexorable, her love was changed to hatred, and she complained to Kāmpila that Rāma had attempted her chastity. Kāmpila in a rage ordered Rāma to be put to death instantly, with his four chief leaders. The minister Bachapa, however, secreted Rāma and his friends in his palace, and decapitating five ordinary criminals, produced their heads to the rāja as those of his intended victims. Kāmpila soon repented of his haste, and the prince’s death was the subject of universal sorrow. After some time Rāma reappeared, and the Princess Ratnangī, on hearing of this, hanged herself, by which Kāmpila was satisfied of the innocence of his son.”

The motif is also found in the Mahāpaduma Jātaka (see Cambridge Edition, vol. iv, p. 116 , No. 472), and Bloomfield, Life and Stories of Pārgvanātha, pp. 64, 85, 146, 199. On the latter page a preliminary bibliography of the motif is given, which includes references to the Mahābhārata, Kathā Sarit Sāgara, Jātakas, Kathāprakāga, etc., besides the collections of Ralston, Steel and Temple, and Clouston. One of the references is to Ralston’s Tibetan Tales, p. 206 . In this story the mother of Utpalavarṇā seduces her own son-in-law and he complies with her desires. A maid discloses the matter and Utpalavarṇā leaves the house. I would not include such examples under this motif. Bloomfield, however, divides it into three forms: the woman tempts, and the man rejects; the woman out of hatred [or fear] pretends that a man has made overtures to her, so as to get him into trouble; and the woman tempts and the man succumbs. The whole point of the motif is, I feel, the refusal of the man and the consequent intended revenge of the woman. Thus, whereas the first variety is the only true example of the motif, the second also may be included, but the third seems quite beside the point – the most important incident of the motif being missing.

Both Persian and Arabic fiction abound in examples of the motif. The best-known collection is that entitled The Book of Sindibād, or the Story of the King, his Son, the Damsel and the Seven Vazirs. For further details of its history, etc., reference should be made to Comparetti’s Ricerche intomo al Libro di Sindibād, translated by H. C. Coote for the Folk-Lore Society, 1882; The Book of Sindibād, W. A. Clouston, privately printed, 1884; and V. Chauvin, Bibliographic des Our rages Arabes, viii, Syntipas.

The frame-story in every case is based on the motif here under consideration. A brief outline is as follows: –

After numerous failures to teach the only son of the king, the sage Sindibād finally succeeds in under six months. He then discovers that the prince is threatened with loss of life if he speaks a single word during the next seven days. Nevertheless, he goes to his father, who is anxious to test his newly acquired knowledge. To all the king’s questions he answers not a word. At this juncture one of the king’s harem, who is secretly enamoured of the prince, enters the audience-chamber and asks leave to try privately to induce the prince to speak. On leave being given she tells him of her love, and offers to poison the king. The prince flies from her in horror. The girl, fearing exposure, tears her clothes, scratches her face and in this condition returns to the king, stating that the prince, only pretending to be dumb, has attempted to rape her, and has suggested poisoning the king. The king orders the executioner to cut off his son’s head. There are seven vazirs at the court and they determine to do what they can to prolong the carrying out of this hasty sentence, hoping in time to establish the prince’s innocence. Accordingly the First Vazir tells a story showing the deceit of women, with the result that the king wavers in his decision. The guilty woman, however, now relates a tale exemplifying the deceits of man. The Second Vazir thereupon retaliates. These alternate stories continue till all the Vazirs have spoken. By this time the unlucky seven days have passed and the innocence of the prince is established, as he can now safely speak and give the real facts of the case.

The collection also appears in the Nights (see Burton, vol. vi, p. 127), under the title, “The Craft and Malice of Women.” In the Persian Bakhtyār Nāma it is the vazirs (ten in number) who urge the death of the accused man, and it is he himself who tells the stories. It also appears in the Nights (Burton, Supp., vol. i, p. 55 et seq.) as “The Ten Wazirs: or, the History of King Āzādbakht and his Son.” In Supp., vol. ii, pp. 295, 296, Clouston writes a note on the story. The plot, however, differs from the other similar collections, not only because of the fact stated above, but also because the son, in a state of drunkenness, wanders into the queen’s bedroom and falls asleep on the bed, to be later discovered by the royal couple. The king refuses to believe that she knows nothing about the matter and the jealous ten vazirs do all they can to bring about the prince’s death. Closely allied to these is the Tamil Alakeswara Kathā (see H. H. Wilson, Descriptive Catalogue of the Mackenzie Collection of MSS., etc., vol. i, p. 220). In the Turkish version, however, the plot follows the Arabic, and it is the prince’s mother-in-law who tempts his virtue. His horoscope shows that his life is in danger for forty days (not seven, as in the other versions) and forty vazirs tell stories. See E. J. W. Gibb, The History of the Forty Vezirs, 1886. The work is very popular in Turkey, where it is known as, Qirq Vezīr Tārīkhi. The original Turkish translation is said to have been made by one Sheykh-zāda, and the title of the work to have been Hikāyetu-Erba’īna-Sabāhin we Mesā – i.e. The Story of the Forty Moms and Eves.

There are two other occurrences of the “scorned love of women” in the Nights.

The first of these is in the long “Tale of Kamar al-Zaman” (Burton, vol. iii, p. 314). The two brothers, Amjad and As’ad, are tempted to incest by each other’s mother. On being repulsed they shut themselves up in the harem, and tell the king that his two sons have raped them and they refuse to come out until their two hearts are brought to them. The enraged monarch gives the necessary order, but the pitying treasurer, whose duty it is to kill the brothers, takes back to the king two vials of a lion’s blood which the brothers chance to slay. Later the repentant father finds the original letters written by the queens in his sons’ clothes. After numerous adventures Amjad and As’ad meet their father (vol. iv, p. 27), and marry two beautiful women they met during their wanderings, and all is well

“till there overtook them the Destroyer of delights, and the Sunderer of societies; and Allah knoweth all things!”

The second tale is that of the “History of Gharib and his Brother Ajib” (vol. vii, p. 83). Queen Jan Shah is suddenly called out as her prisoner, Gharib, had broken her idol and slain her men. She immediately goes to the temple and (like Anupu’s wife in the Egyptian tale) on seeing the great strength of Gharib

“her heart was drowned in the love of him and she said to herself:

‘I have no need of the idol and care for naught save this Gharib, that he may lie in my bosom the rest of my life.’”

On his refusal he is turned into an ape by her magic, and kept carefully in a closet. After two years he pretends by signs to agree to her wishes, and is accordingly restored to his original shape. That evening, he seizes her by the neck, breaks it and so kills her.

The first of the above stories is common in Kashmir; see, e.g., Stein and Grierson, “Tale of a King,” Hatim's Tales, 1923, pp. 45-57; and Knowles, Folk-Tales of Kashmir, pp. 166 , 423.

Thus we see that, in order for a story to be classified under the heading of this motif, the woman must make the suggestion, be repulsed, and seek revenge. This is the natural sequence of events w’hich has proved so popular in every part of the East, whence it has travelled slowly westward. An interesting point to notice is that it can be traced from East to West in the same collection of stories – that of the Sindibād Kāma cycle, for besides the various versions already mentioned (see also Vol. I, p. 170) it is found in the French Dolopathos, the English Seven Wise Masters, and numerous other versions. – n.m.p.

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