Book Name:

The Ocean of Story Volume 2

[M] Then Vāsavadattā on the next day said to the King of Vatsa in private, while he was surrounded by his ministers:

“My husband, ever since I have been pregnant with this child the difficulty of taking care of it afflicts my heart; and last night, after thinking over it long, I fell asleep with difficulty, and I am persuaded I saw a certain man come in my dream, glorious with a shape distinguished by matted auburn locks and a trident-bearing hand; and he, approaching me, said as if moved by compassion:

‘My daughter, you need not feel at all anxious about the child with which you are pregnant; I will protect it, for I gave it to you. And hear something more, which I will tell you to make you confide in me: a certain woman waits to make a petition to you to-morrow; she will come dragging her husband with her as a prisoner, reviling him, accompanied by five sons, begirt with many relations; and she is a wicked woman, who desires by the help of her relations to get that husband of hers put to death, and all that she will say will be false, And you, my daughter, must beforehand inform the King of Vatsa about this matter, in order that that good man may be freed from that wicked wife.’

This command that august one gave and vanished, and I immediately woke up, and lo! the morning had come.”

When the queen had said that, all spoke of the favour of Siva, and were astonished, their minds eagerly expecting the fulfilment of the dream; when lo! at that very moment the chief warder entered and suddenly said to the King of Vatsa, who was compassionate to the afflicted:

“O King, a certain woman has come to make a representation, accompanied by her relations, bringing with her five sons, reviling her helpless husband.”

When the king heard that, being astonished at the way it tallied with the queen’s dream, he commanded the warder to bring her into his presence. And the Queen Vāsavadattā felt the greatest delight, having become certain that she would obtain a good son, on account of the truth of the dream. Then that woman entered by the command of the warder, accompanied by her husband, looked at with curiosity by all, who had their faces turned towards the door.

Then, having entered, she assumed an expression of misery, and making a bow according to rule, she addressed the king in council accompanied by the queen:

“This man, though he is my husband, does not give to me, helpless woman that I am, food, raiment and other necessaries, and yet I am free from blame with respect to him.”

When she had said this, her husband pleaded:

“King, this woman speaks falsely, supported by her relations, for she wishes me to be put to death. For I have given her supplies beforehand to last till the end of the year; and other relations of hers, who are impartial, are prepared to witness the truth of this for me.”

When he had said this to the king, the king of his own accord answered:

“The trident-bearing god himself has given evidence in this case, appearing to the queen in a dream. What need have we of more witnesses? This woman with her relations must be punished.”

When the king had delivered this judgment, the discreet Yaugandharāyaṇa said:

“Nevertheless, King, we must do what is right in accordance with the evidence of witnesses, otherwise the people, not knowing of the dream, would in no wise believe the justice of our proceedings.”

When the king heard that he consented, and had the witnesses summoned that moment, and they, being asked, deposed that that woman was speaking falsely. Then the king banished her, as she was plotting against one well known to be a good husband, from his territory, with her relations and her sons.

And with heart melting from pity he discharged her good husband, after giving him much treasure, sufficient for another marriage. And in connection with the whole affair the king remarked:

“An evil wife, of wildly [1] cruel nature, tears her still living husband like a she-wolf, when he has fallen into the pit of calamity; but an affectionate, noble and magnanimous wife averts sorrow as the shade [2] of the wayside tree averts heat, and is acquired by a man’s special merits.”

Then Vasantaka, who was a clever story-teller, being at the king’s side, said to him à propos of this: “ Moreover, King, hatred and affection are commonly produced in living beings in this world owing to their continually recalling the impressions of a past state of existence, and in proof of this hear the story which I am about to tell:

 

28. Story of Sinhaparākrama

There was a king in Benares named Vikramachaṇḍa, and he had a favourite follower named Sinhaparākrama, who was wonderfully successful in all battles and in all gambling contests. And he had a wife, very deformed both in body and mind, called by a name which expressed her nature, Kalahakārī. [3] This brave man continually obtained much money both from the king and from gambling, and, as soon as he got it, he gave it all to his wife. But the shrewish woman, backed by her three sons begotten by him, could not, in spite of this, remain one moment without a quarrel.

She continually worried by yelling out these words at him with her sons:

“You are always eating and drinking away from home, and you never give us anything.”

And though he was for ever trying to propitiate her with meat, drink and raiment, she tortured him day and night like an interminable thirst.

Then at last Sinhaparākrama, vexed with indignation on that account, left his house and went on a pilgrimage to the goddess Durgā, that dwells in the Vindhya hills. While he was fasting, the goddess said to him in a dream:

“Rise up, my son; go to thy own city of Benares; there is an enormous Nyagrodha tree; by digging round its root thou wilt at once obtain a treasure. And in the treasure thou wilt find a dish of emerald, bright as a sword-blade, looking like a piece of the sky fallen down to earth; casting thy eyes on that, thou wilt see, as it were, reflected inside, the previous existence of every individual, in whatever case thou mayest wish to know it. By means of that thou wilt learn the previous birth of thy wife and of thyself, and having learned the truth wilt dwell there in happiness free from grief.”

Having thus been addressed by the goddess, Sinhaparā-krama woke up and broke his fast, and went in the morning to Benares; and after he had reached the city he found at the root of the Nyagrodha tree a treasure, and in it he discovered a large emerald dish, and, eager to learn the truth, he saw in that dish that in a previous birth his wife had been a terrible she-bear and himself a lion. And so, recognising that the hatred between himself and his wife was irremediable, owing to the influence of bitter enmity in a previous birth, he abandoned grief and bewilderment. Then Sinha-parākrama examined many maidens by means of the dish, and discovering that they had belonged to alien races in a previous birth, he avoided them, but after he had discovered one who had been a lioness in a previous birth, and so was a suitable match for him, he married her as his second wife, and her name was Sinhaśrī. And after assigning to that Kalahakārī one village only as her portion, [4] he lived, delighted with the acquisition of treasure, in the society of his new wife. Thus, O King, wives and others are friendly or hostile to men in this world by virtue of impressions in a previous state of existence.

 

[M] When the King of Vatsa had heard this wonderful story from Vasantaka, he was exceedingly delighted, and so was the Queen Vāsavadattā. And the king was never weary day or night of contemplating the moon-like face of the pregnant queen. And as days went on there were born to all of his ministers in due course sons with auspicious marks, which heralded approaching good fortune. First there was born to Yaugandharāyaṇa, the chief minister, a son, Maru-bhūti by name. Then Rumaṇvat had a son called Hariśikha, and to Vasantaka there was born a son named Tapantaka. And to the head warder, called Nityodita, whose other title was Ityaka, [5] there was born a son named Gomukha.

And after they were born a great feast took place, and during it a bodiless voice was heard from heaven:

“These ministers shall crush the race of the enemies of the son of the King of Vatsa here, the future universal emperor.”

And as days went by the time drew near for the birth of the child with which the Queen Vāsavadattā was destined to present the King of Vatsa, and she repaired to the ornamented lying-in chamber, which was prepared by matrons having sons, and the windows of which were covered with arka and śamī plants. The room was hung with various weapons, rendered auspicious by being mixed with the gleam of jewel-lamps, shedding a blaze [6] able to protect the child; [7] and secured by conjurers who went through innumerable charms and spells and other incantations, so that it became a fortress of the matrons hard for calamity to storm; and there she brought forth in good time a prince of lovely aspect, as the heaven brings forth the moon from which stream pure nectarous rays.

The child, when born, not only irradiated that room, but the heart also of that mother, from which the darkness of grief had departed; then, as the delight of the inmates of the harem [8] was gradually extended, the king heard of the birth of a son from the people who were admitted to it; the reason he did not give his kingdom in his delight to the person who announced it was that he was afraid of committing an impropriety, not that he was avaricious.

And so the king, suddenly coming to the harem with longing mind, beheld his son, and his hope bore fruit after a long delay. The child had a long red lower lip like a leaf, beautiful flowing hair like wool, and his whole face was like the lotus, which the Goddess of the Fortune of Empire carries for her delight. He was marked on his soft feet with umbrellas and chowries, as if the fortunes of other kings had beforehand abandoned their badges in his favour, out of fear.

Then, while the king shed with tearful eye, that swelled with the pressure of the fullness of the weight of his joy, drops that seemed to be drops of paternal affection, [9] and the ministers, with Yaugandharāyaṇa at their head, rejoiced, a voice was heard from heaven at that time to the following effect: –

“King, this son that is born to thee is an incarnation of Kāma, and know that his name is Naravāhanadatta; and he will soon become emperor of the kings of Vidyādharas, and maintain that position unwearied for a Kalpa of the gods.” [10]

When so much had been said, the voice stopped, and immediately a rain of flowers fell from heaven, and the sounds of the celestial drums went forth. Then the king, excessively delighted, made a great feast, which was rendered all the more solemn from the gods having begun it. The sound of cymbals floated in the air, rising from temples, as if to tell all the Vidyādharas of the birth of their king; and red banners, flying in the wind on the tops of the palaces, seemed with their splendour to fling red dye to one another. On earth beautiful women assembled and danced everywhere, as if they were the nymphs of heaven glad that the God of Love had been born with a body. [11] And the whole city appeared equally splendid with new dresses and ornaments bestowed by the rejoicing king. For while that rich king rained riches upon his dependents, nothing but the treasury was empty. And the ladies belonging to the families of the neighbouring chieftains came in from all sides, with auspicious prayers, versed in the good custom, [12] accompanied by dancing-girls bringing with them splendid presents, escorted by various excellent guards, attended with the sound of musical instruments, like all the cardinal points in bodily form. Every movement there was of the nature of a dance, every word uttered was attended with full vessels, [13] every action was of the nature of munificence, the city resounded with musical instruments, the people were adorned with red powder, [14] and the earth was covered with bards – all these were so in that city which was full of festivity.

Thus the great feast was carried on with increasing magnificence for many days, and did not come to an end before the wishes of the citizens were fully satisfied. And as days went on that infant prince grew like the new moon, and his father bestowed on him with appropriate formalities the name of Naravāhanadatta, which had been previously assigned to him by the heavenly voice. His father was delighted when he saw him make his first two or three tottering steps, in which gleamed the sheen of his smooth fair toe-nails, and when he heard him utter his first two or three indistinct words, showing his teeth which looked like buds.

Then the excellent ministers brought to the infant prince their infant sons, who delighted the heart of the king, and commended them to him. First Yaugandharāyaṇa brought Marubhūti, and then Rumaṇvat Hariśikha, and then the head warder named Ityaka brought Gomukha, and Vasantaka his son named Tapantaka. And the domestic chaplain Śāntikara presented the two twin sons of Pingalikā, his nephews Śāntisoma and Vaiśvānara. And at that moment there fell from heaven a rain of flowers from the gods, which a shout of joy made all the more auspicious, and the king rejoiced with the queens, having bestowed presents on that company of ministers’ sons. And that Prince Naravāhanadatta was always surrounded by those six ministers’ sons, devoted to him alone, who commanded respect even in their boyhood, as if with the six political measures [15] that are the cause of great prosperity. The days of the lord of Vatsa passed in great happiness, while he gazed affectionately on his son with his lotus-like face, going from lap to lap of the kings whose minds were lovingly attached to him, and making in his mirth a charming indistinct playful prattling.

Comments:

[1] Here there is a pun: ākula may also mean “by descent.”

[2] Kulīnā may mean “falling on the earth,” referring to the shade of the tree. Mārgasthā means “in the right path” when applied to the wife.

[3] I.e. Madam Contentious. Her husband’s name means “of lion-like might.”

[4] Speyer (op. cit., p. 104) suggests grāsaikabhāginī as a more probable reading than grāmaikahhāginī, thus meaning that the repudiated wife was merely accorded her livelihood. Similar subsistence-allowances were given as punishment to the wicked officials in Mudrā-Rākṣasa, Act. Ill (see p. 135 of the Bombay edition). – n m.p.

[5] I read (after Böhtlingk and Roth) Ityakāpara. See chapter xxxiv, śl. 115.

[6] Tejas also means “might,” “courage.”

[7] See note at the end of this chapter. – n.m.p.

[8] The word harem, from the Arabic ḥaram and ḥarīm, means “that which is prohibited,” and is applied to that portion of the house allotted to the women, and also to the women themselves. It is further used to denote a particularly sacred spot, such as the sanctuary at Mecca. Owing to its constant use in English, it is often employed in describing the women’s quarters in non-Moslem lands, or in countries where only a certain proportion of the inhabitants are Moslems. The other words used with a similar meaning are zenana, seraglio and purdah.

Zenana, or more correctly zanana, is from the Persian zan, “woman” (γυνή), and is almost exclusively used in India. The word has become familiar in Britain owing to the establishment in India of zenana schools, hospitals and missionary societies.

Seraglio has an interesting etymological history. It is derived directly from the Italian serraglio, “an enclosure” (Latin sera, a bar), and has become connected with ḥarīm, through confusion with the Persian sarā, sarāi, which originally meant merely “an edifice,” or “palace.” In this sense sarāi was largely used by the Tartars, from whom the Russians obtained the use of the word, degrading it, however, to mean only a “shed.” In the language of the Levantine Franks it became serail and serraglio. It was at this point that a mistaken “striving after meaning” with the Italian serrato, “shut up,” etc., connected it with the private apartments of women.

The Italian traveller Pietro della Valle (1586-1652) refers to the subject in his Travels (vol. i, p. 36): –

“This term serraglio, so much used among us in speaking of the Grand Turk’s dwelling... has been corrupted into that form from the word serai, which in their language signifies properly ‘a palace.’... But since this word serai resembles serraio, as a Venetian would call it, or seraglio as we say, and seeing that the palace of the Turk is (serrato or) shut up all round by a strong wall, and also because the women and a great part of the courtiers dwell in it barred up and shut in, so it may perchance have seemed to some to have deserved such a name. And thus the real term serai has been converted into serraglio.”

See Yule’s Hobson Jobson, under “Serai, serye,” whence I have taken the above extract.

The use of sarāi, meaning “house” or “building,” is very well known, though perhaps not often recognised, in the word “caravanserai” (Persian karwānsarāi),“ a (halting)-place for camels.”

Turning to the word purdah, or pardah, it is derived from parda, “a curtain,” and has come to mean the women’s part of the house, which is separated from the rest by a thick curtain or blinds to which this name is given.

The literature dealing with the ḥarīm life of the East is naturally voluminous. The following references, however, contain the more important accounts: –

“Harīm,” Hughes’ Dictionary of Islam, pp. 163-167;

Hoffman’s article in Ersch and Gruber’s Encyclopädie;

J. M. Mitchell, Ency. Brit. (11th edit.), vol. xii, pp. 950-952;

F. Millingen, “The Circassian Slaves and the Sultan’s Harem,” Journ. Anth. Soc., 1870, pp. cix-cxx;

G. Dorys, La Femme Turque, 1902;

Harvey, Turkish Harems and Circassian Homes, 1871;

L. M. Garnett, The Women of Turkey and their Folk-Lore, 1901;

E. Lott, Harem Life in Egypt and Constantinople, 1869;

E. W. Lane, Manners and Customs of the Modem Egyptians (5th edit., I 860), pp. 175-191;

B. Mullick, Essays on the Hindu Family in Bengal, Calcutta, 1882;

J. Jolly, Recht und Sitte, Strassburg, 1896;

S. C. Bose, The Hindoos as They Are, Calcutta, 1881;

M. F. Billington, Woman in India, London, 1895;

Otto Rothfeld, Women of India [1920].

For further references see the numerous articles in Hastings’ Ency. Rel. Eth. under “Birth,” “Education,” “Emancipation,” “Ethics,” “Family” and “Marriage.” – n.m.p.

[9] Sneha, which means “love,” also means “oil.” This is a fruitful source -of puns in Sanskrit.

[10] Infinitely longer than a mortal Kalpa. A mortal Kalpa lasts 432 million years.

[11] He is often called Ananga, “the bodiless”as his body was consumed by the fire of Śiva’s eye.

[12] Or virtuous and generous.

[13] It is still the custom to give presents of vessels filled with rice and coins. Empty vessels are inauspicious, and even now if a Bengali on going out of his house meets a person carrying an empty pitcher he turns back, and waits a minute or two.

[14] This is the kunkam, kunkum, or kunku already mentioned in Vol. I, pp. 244, 256. It enters largely into Hindu ceremony and ritual, especially on auspicious occasions and at times of general rejoicing.

It is described as a pink powder made of turmeric, lime-juice and borax. It seems to be a more agreeable substitute for vermilion, whose constant use has probably an injurious effect on the skin and hair. The powder is used in the Maratha country in the same way as vermilion, and a married woman will smear a little patch on her forehead every day and never allow her husband to see her without it. See Russell, op. cit., vol. iv, p. 109. In the month of fasting (Shrāwan) the auspicious kunkam is not used, but at festivals such as the Holī it is greatly in evidence. – n.m.p.

[15] Peace, war, march, halt, stratagem, and recourse to the protection of a mightier king.

 

NOTE ON PRECAUTIONS OBSERVED IN THE BIRTH-CHAMBER

On page l6l we saw that the room in which Vāsavadattā was confined had its windows covered with sacred plants. These were to act as a protection against the possible intrusions of evil spirits, whose malign influence was feared on such an auspicious occasion. Furthermore, the room was hung with various weapons. Here again we have a charm to ward off danger.

In India iron does not bring good luck, but scares away evil spirits, consequently weapons hung up in the birth-chamber act as a powerful protection. In the same way our horseshoe is really only lucky because of the power in iron to repel evil influences. Steel is equally effective. In her Rites of the Twice-born, Mrs Stevenson, in describing the Brāhman birth-chamber, states that the scissors which have been used to sever the umbilical cord are put under the pillow on which the young mother’s head is resting, and the iron rod with which the floor has been dug up for the burial of the after-birth is placed on the ground at the foot of the bed. This iron rod is part of a plough, and, if the householder does not possess one of his own, it is specially borrowed for the occasion; its presence is so important that it is not returned for six days, however much its owner may be needing it. The midwife, before leaving, often secretly introduces a needle into the mattress of the bed, in the hope of saving the mother after-pains.

Frazer (Golden Bough, vol. iii, p. 234 et seq.) has collected numerous examples showing the dislike of spirits for iron in various parts of the world, especially Scotland, India and Africa. Among the Majhwār, an aboriginal tribe in the hill country of South Mirzapur, an iron implement such as a sickle or a betel-cutter is constantly kept near an infant’s head during its first year for the purpose of warding off the attacks of ghosts (W. Crooke, Tribes and Castes of the North-Western Provinces and Oudh, vol. iii, p. 431). Among the Maravars, an aboriginal race of Southern India, a knife or other iron object lies beside a woman after childbirth to keep off the devil (F. Jagor, “Berichtüber verschiedene Volksstämme in Vorderindien,” Zeitschrift fur Ethnologie, vol. xxvi, 1894, p. 70). When a Māla woman is in labour, a sickle and some nīm leaves are always kept on the cot. In Malabar people who have to pass by burning-grounds or other haunted places commonly carry with them iron in some form, such as a knife, or an iron rod used as a walking-stick. When pregnant women go on a journey, they carry with them a few twigs or leaves of the nīm tree, or iron in some shape, to scare evil spirits lurking in groves or burial-grounds which they may pass (E. Thurston, Ethnographic Notes in Southern India, Madras, 1906, p. 341; and CastesaridTribes of Southern India, vol. iv, p. 369 et seq.). See also the articles on pregnancy observances in the Panjāb by H. A. Rose, Joum.Anth. Inst., vol. xxxv, 1905, pp. 271-282.

In Annam parents sometimes sell their child to a smith, who puts an iron anklet on the child’s foot, usually adding a small iron chain. After the child has grown and all danger from the attack of evil spirits is over, the anklet is broken.

The use of the sword to scare away evil spirits during childbirth is found in the Philippines, where the husband strips naked (see p. 117 of this volume) and, standing on guard either inside the house or on the roof, flourishes his sword incessantly until the child is born.

In Malaya a piece of iron is numbered among the articles necessary for the defence of infancy against its natural and spiritual foes. See R. J. Wilkinson, Papers on Malay Subjects, part i, p. 1, Kuala Lumpur, 1908.

As iron frightens demons away it is not surprising that it is used in cases of illness. Thus, during an outbreak of cholera, people often carry axes or sickles about with them. On the Slave Coast of Western Africa, when her child is ill, a mother will attach iron rings and bells to the child’s ankles and hang iron chains round its neck.

Iron has a similar significance of driving away spirits at death, thus the chief mourners will carry iron with them. When a woman dies in childbed in the island of Salsette, they put a nail or other piece of iron in the folds of her dress; this is done specially if the child survives her. The intention plainly is to prevent her spirit from coming back; for they believe that a dead mother haunts the house and seeks to carry away her child (G. F. D’Penha, “Superstitions and Customs in Salsette,” Indian Antiquary, vol. xxviii, 1899, p. 115).

In all these cases the original cause of the dread of iron by evil spirits appears to be simply that the spirits themselves date back to Stone Age times, and the discovery of iron, with its enormous advantages over stone, attached to it miraculous powers which the evil spirits, in their ignorance, came to dread.

Crooke in his article, “Charms and Amulets (Indian),” Hastings’ Ency. Rel. Eth. (vol. iii, p. 443), gives other useful references. He first refers to W. Johnson, Folk Memory, 1908, p. 169 et seq., where the protective value of iron is described. When a child is still-born, the Burmese place iron beside the corpse, with the invocation:

“Never more return into thy mother’s womb till this metal becomes as soft as down”

(Shway Yoe [Sir George Scott], The Burman, vol. i, p. 3).

The Vadvāls of Thāna, in order to guard against the spirit which attacks the child on the sixth day after birth (an unconscious recognition of the danger from infantile lockjaw, caused by neglect of sanitary precautions), place an iron knife or scythe on the mother’s cot, and an iron bickern at the door of the lying-in room – a custom which also prevails in the Panjāb (Campbell, Notes on the Spirit Basis of Belief and Custom, Bombay, 1885, p. 387; Malik Muhammad Dīn, The Bahāwalpur State, Lahore, 1908, p. 98). An iron bracelet is worn by all Hindu married women, those of high rank enclosing it in gold (Rajendralala Mitra, The Indo-Aryans, London, 1881, vol. i, pp. 233, 279; Risley, Tribes and Castes of Bengal, vol. i, p. 532, 533; vol. ii, p. 41). In the form of the sword it has special power. When a birth occurs among the Kachins of Upper Burma, guns are fired, knives (dhā) and torches are brandished over the mother, and old rags and chillies are burned to scare demons by the stench (Gazetteer,Upper Burma, vol. i, pt. i, p. 399).

The Mohammedans of North India wave a knife over a sufferer from cramp, with the invocation:

“I salute God! The knife is of steel! The arrow is sharp! May the cramp cease through the power of Muhammad, the brave one!”

(North Indian Notes and Queries, vol. v, p. 35).

On the Irrawaddy river in Burma iron pyrites is valued as a charm against alligators (Yule, Mission to Ava, London, 1858, p. 198). A curious belief in the sanctity of iron appears among the Doms, a criminal tribe of North India. They inherit from the Stone Age the belief that it is unlawful to commit a burglary with an iron tool; anyone disobeying this rule is expelled from the community, and it is believed that the eyes of the offender will start from his head (North Indian Notes and Queries, vol. v, p. 63).

Apart from the reference to the birth-chamber of the son of the King of Vatsa being hung with various weapons, we are told that they were “rendered auspicious by being mixed with the gleam of jewel-lamps, shedding a blaze able to protect the child.” There are two similar descriptions in Chapters XXVIII and XXXIV, where the light of the lamps is eclipsed by the beauty of the expectant mother.

We have already seen (Vol. I, p. 77n1) that demons fear the light and can indulge in their machinations only when it is dark. The same idea obtains at the time of childbirth, for being a most critical period, evil spirits naturally try to take every advantage. Thus it is an almost universal custom to have lights in the birth-chamber to scare away such spirits as may be hovering round to do what harm they can.

“The rule that, where a mother and new-born child are lying, fire and light must never be allowed to go out,” says Hartland, “is equally binding in the Highlands of Scotland, in Korea, and in Basutoland; it was observed by the ancient Romans; and the sacred books of the Parsis enjoin it as a religious duty; for the evil powers hate and fear nothing so much as fire and light.”

Among the Chinese, as soon as the birth-pangs are felt, the women light candles and burn incense before the household shrine and gods. Red candles are also lighted in the chamber as at a wedding, the idea being that a display of joy and cheerful confidence repels all evil influences.

Crooke (op. cit. supra, pp. 444, 445) also gives useful references about the protecting powers of light and fire in all parts of the world.

The Nāyars of Malabar place lights, over which rice is sprinkled, in the room in which the marriage is consummated (Bull. Madras Museum, vol. iii, p. 234; cf. Dubois, Hindu Manners, Cuslotns and Ceremonies, p. 227). Among the Śavaras of Bengal the bridesmaids warm the tips of their fingers at a lamp, and rub the cheeks of the bridegroom (Risley, op. cit., vol. ii, p. 243). The Mohammedan Khojas of Gujarat place a four-wicked lamp near a young child, while the friends scatter rice (Bombay Gazetteer, vol. ix, pt. ii, p. 45). In Bombay the lamp is extinguished on the tenth day, and again filled with butter and sugar, as a mimetic charm to induce the light to come again and bring another baby (Panjab Notes and Queries, vol. iv, p. 5). The Śrigaud Brāhmans of Gujarat at marriage wear conical hats made of leaves of the sacred tree Butea frondosa, and on the hat is placed a lighted lamp (Bombay Gazetteer, vol. ix, pt. i, p. 19 i and cf. idem, p. 272).

Fire is commonly used for the same purpose. The fires lit at the Holī spring festival are intended as a purgation of evil spirits, or as a mimetic charm to produce sunshine. Touching fire is one of the methods by which mourners are freed from the ghost which clings to them. When an Arer woman of Kānara has an illegitimate child, the priest lights a lamp, plucks a hair from the woman’s head, throws it into the fire, and announces that mother and child are free from taboo (Bombay Gazetteer, vol. ix, pt. i, p. 215). The rite of fire-walking practised in many parts of the country appears to be intended as a means of purging evil spirits; and the fire lighted by all castes in the delivery-room seems to have the same object. Such use of fire is naturally common among the Zoroastrian fire-worshippers (Shea-Troyer, The Dabistān, Paris, 1843, vol. i, p. 317).

In the Nights (Burton, Supp., vol. i, p. 279) we read:

“When the woman came to her delivery, she gave birth to a girl-child in the night, and they sought fire of the neighbours.”

In the text of the Ocean of Story under discussion the lamps are described as

“jewel-lamps, shedding a blaze,” and in Chapter XXXIV we read of “a long row of flames of the jewel-lamps.”

Tawney gives a note to this latter reference, but does not tell us what jewel-lamps are. The question arises as to whether they are lamps encrusted with jewels, lamps carved out of a solid jewel, or jewels so bright that they do the service of lamps. The first seems quite probable, while the second is most unlikely and, as far as I can discover, does not appear in folk-tales. But the luminous jewel is of very common occurrence, and not only appears largely in Eastern fiction, but enters into Alexandrian myths and is found in the works of mediæval physiologists.

Clouston, Popular Tales and Fictions, vol. i, p. 412, gives references from the Gesta Romanorum, the Talmud, Pseudo-Callisthenes, Lucian’s De Dea Syria, The Forty Vazirs, and ends his note with “Jewel-lamps are often mentioned in the Kathā Sarit Sāgara,” so he evidently thought the references were to jewels.

In the Nights (Burton, vol. i, p. 166) a room is lit by a light which

“came from a precious stone big as an ostrich egg... and this jewel, blazing like the sun, cast its rays far and wide.”

On the other hand, lamps enter so enormously into Hindu ritual that one is inclined to think that lamps are really meant, especially when we read of the “long row of flames.” Whenever a luminous jewel is mentioned it is nearly always a single stone. There are exceptions, however. The gable of Prester John’s palace was lit at night by two carbuncles, one at either end. But a whole row of such jewels used for such a purpose is unheard of. – n.m.p.

Abstract: