North Indian Popular Religion: 15-The worship of trees and serpents
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North Indian Popular Religion: 15-The worship of trees and serpents
TREE AND SERPENT WORSHIP.
Sylvarum numina, Fauni
Et satyri fratres.
Ovid, Metamorp. iii. 163.
Αὐτὰρ ἐπ’ αὐτῷ
Κυάνεος ἐλέλικτο δράκων, κεφαλαὶ δὲ οἱ ἢσαν
Τρεῖς ἁμφιστρεφέες, ἑνὸς αὐχένος ἐκπεφυυῖαι.
Iliad, xi. 38–40.
The worship of trees and serpents may be conveniently considered together; not that there is much connection between these two classes of belief, but because this course has been followed in Mr. Ferguson’s elaborate monograph on the subject.
The worship of trees appears to be based on many converging lines of thought, which it is not easy to disentangle. Mr. H. Spencer1 classes it as an aberrant species of ancestor worship: “A species somewhat more disguised externally, but having the same internal nature; and though it develops in three different directions, still these have all one common origin. First, the toxic excitements produced by certain plants are attributed to the agency of spirits or demons; secondly, tribes that have come out of places characterized by particular trees or plants, unawares change the legend of emergence from them into the legend of descent from them; thirdly, the naming of individuals after plants becomes a source of confusion.”
According to Dr. Tylor,2 again, the worship depends upon man’s animistic theory of nature: “Whether such a tree [84]is looked on as inhabited by its own proper life and soul, or as possessed like a fetish by some other spirit which has entered it or used it for a body, is often hard to determine. The tree may be the spirits’ perch or shelter (as we have seen in the case of the Churel or Râkshasa), or the sacred grove is assumed to be the spirits’ resort.”
Mr. Frazer has given a very careful analysis of this branch of popular religion.3 He shows that to the savage in general the world is animate and trees are no exception to the rule; he thinks they have souls like his own and treats them accordingly; they are supposed to feel injuries done to them; the souls of the dead sometimes animate them; the tree is regarded sometimes as the body, sometimes as the home of the tree spirit; trees and tree spirits give rain and sunshine; they cause the crops to grow; the tree spirit makes the herds to multiply and blesses women with offspring; the tree spirit is often conceived and represented as detached from the tree and even as embodied in living men and women.
The basis of the cultus may then perhaps be stated as follows: There is first the tree which is regarded as embodying or representing the spirit which influences the fertility of crops and human beings. Hence the respect paid to memorial trees, where the people assemble, as at the village Pîpal, which is valued for its shade and beauty and its long connection with the social life of the community. This would naturally be regarded as the abode of some god and forms the village shrine, a convenient centre for the religious worship of the local deities, where they reside and accept the worship and offerings of their votaries.
It may, again, be the last survival of the primitive forest, where the dispossessed spirits of the jungle find their final and only resting-place. Such secluded groves form the only and perhaps the earliest shrine of many primitive races.
Again, an allegorical meaning would naturally be attached to various trees. It is invested with a mystic power owing to the mysterious waving of its leaves and branches, the [85]result of supernatural agency; and this would account for the weird sounds of the forest at night.
Many trees are evergreen, and thus enjoy eternal life. Every tree is a sort of emblem of life, reproducing itself in some uncanny fashion with each recurring spring.
It has some mystic connection with the three worlds—
Quantum vertice ad auras
Aetherias tantum radice in Tartara tendit.
Like Yggdrassil, it connects the world of man with the world of gods, and men may, like Jack of the Beanstalk, climb by its aid to heaven. In this connection it may be noted that many Indian tribes bury their dead in trees. The Khasiyas of East Bengal lay the body in the hollow trunk of a tree. The Nâgas dispose of their dead in the same way, or hang them in coffins to the branches. The Mâriya Gonds tie the corpse to a tree and burn it. The Malers lay the corpse of a priest, whose ghost often gives trouble, under a tree and cover it with leaves.4 Similar customs prevail among primitive races in many parts of the world.
The tree embodies in itself many utilities necessary to human life, and many qualities which menace its existence. Its wood is the source of fire, itself a fetish. Its fruits, juices, flowers or bark are sources of food or possess intoxicating or poisonous attributes, which are naturally connected with demoniacal influences. Trees often develop into curious or uncanny forms, which compel fear or adoration.
Thus according to the old ritual5 trees which have been struck by lightning, or knocked down by inundation, or which have fallen in the direction of the south, or which grew on a burning ground or consecrated site, or at the confluence of large rivers, or by the roadside; those which have withered tops, or an entanglement of heavy creepers [86]upon them, or are the receptacles of many honey-combs or birds’ nests, are reckoned unfit for the fabrication of bedsteads, as they are inauspicious and sure to bring disease and death. The step from such beliefs to the worship of any curious and remarkable tree is easy.
Hence the belief that the planting of a grove is a work of religious merit, which is so strongly felt by Hindus, and the idea that the grove has special religious associations, shown by the marriage of its trees to the well, and other rites of the same kind. In the Konkan it is very generally believed that barrenness is caused by uneasy spirits which wander about, and that if a home be made for the spirit by planting trees, it will go and reside there and the curse of barrenness will be removed.6
Though this branch of the subject has been pushed to quite an unreasonable length in some recent books,7 there may be some association of tree worship with the phallic cultus, such as is found in the Asherah or “groves” of the Hebrews, the European Maypole, and so on.
This has been suggested as an explanation of the honour paid by the Gypsy race in Germany to the fir tree, the birch and the hawthorn, and of the veneration of the Welsh Gypsies to the fasciated vegetable growth known to them as the Broado Koro.8 In the same way an attempt has been made to connect the Bel tree with the Saiva worship of the Lingam and the lotus with the Yonî. But this part of the subject has been involved in so much crude speculation that any analogies of this kind, however tempting, must be accepted with the utmost caution.
Further than this, it may be reasonably suspected that this cultus rests to some extent on a basis of totemism. Some of the evidence in support of this view will be discussed elsewhere, but it is, on the analogy of the various modes in which the Brâhmanical pantheon has been recruited, not improbable that trees and plants, like the Tulasî and the [87]Pîpal, may have been originally tribal totems imported into Brâhmanism from some aboriginal or other foreign source.
On the whole it is tolerably certain that there is more in tree worship than can be accounted for either by Mr. Ferguson’s theory that the worship sprang from a perception of the utility or beauty of trees, or by Mr. Spencer’s theory of nicknames. It is sufficient to say that both fail to account for the worship of insignificant and comparatively useless shrubs, weeds, or grasses.
Tree worship holds an important part in the popular ritual and folk-lore. This is shown by the prejudice against cutting trees. The jungle tribes are very averse to cutting certain trees, particularly those which are regarded as sacred. If a Kharwâr, except at the time of the annual feast, cuts his tribal tree, the Karama, he loses wealth and life, and none of these tribes will cut the large Sâl trees which are fixed by the Baiga as the abode of the forest godling. This feeling prevails very strongly among the Maghs of Bengal. Nothing but positive orders and the presence of Europeans would induce them to trespass on many hill-tops, which they regarded as occupied by the tree demons.
With the Europeans, however, they would advance fearlessly, and did not hesitate to fell trees, the blame of such sacrilege being always laid on the strangers. On felling any large tree, one of the party was always prepared with a green sprig, which he ran and placed in the centre of the stump when the tree fell, as a propitiation to the spirit which had been displaced so roughly, pleading at the same time the orders of the strangers for the work. In clearing one spot an orderly had to take the dâh or cleaver and fell the first tree himself before a Magh would make a stroke, and was considered to bear all the odium of the work with the disturbed spirits till the arrival of the Europeans relieved him of the burden.9
In folk-lore we have many magic trees. We have the Kalpataru or Kalpadruma, also known as Kalpavriksha, or Manoratha dayaka, the tree which grows in Swarga or the [88]paradise of Indra and grants all desires.
There is, again, the Pârijâta, which was produced at the churning of the ocean, and appropriated by Indra, from whom it was recovered by Krishna. The tree in the Meghadûta bears clothes, trinkets, and wine, which is like the Juniper tree of the German tale, which grants a woman a son. Many such trees appear in the Indian folk-tales.
The King Jimutaketu had a tree in his house which came down from his ancestors, and was known as “the giver of desires”; the generous Induprabha craved a boon from Indra, and became a wishing tree in his own city; and the faithful minister of Yasaketu sees a wave rise out of the sea and then a wishing tree appears, “adorned with boughs glittering with gold, embellished with sprays of coral, bearing lovely fruits and flowers of jewels. And he beheld on its trunk a maiden, alluring on account of her wonderful beauty, reclining on a gem-bestudded couch.”10 So, in the story of Devadatta, the tree is cloven and a heavenly nymph appears.
We have trees which, like those in the Odyssey, bear fruit and flowers at the same time, and in the garden of the Asura maiden “the trees were ever producing flowers and fruits, for all seasons were present there at the same time.”11
We have many trees, again, which are produced in miraculous ways. In one of the modern tales the tiger collects the bones of his friend, the cow, and from her ashes spring two bamboos, which when cut give blood, and are found to be two boys of exquisite grace and beauty.12 So in Grimm’s tale of “One Eye, Two Eyes, and Three Eyes,” the tree grows from the buried entrails of the goat. In another of Somadeva’s stories the heroine drops a tear on the Jambu flower and a fruit grew, within which a maiden was produced.13 The incident of the tree which grows on the mother’s grave and protects her helpless children is the common property of folk-lore. Again, we have the heavenly [89]fruit which was given by the grateful monkey, and freed him who ate it from old age and disease, like the tree in Aelian which makes an old man become younger and younger until he reaches the antenatal stage of non-existence.14
We have many instances of trees which talk. The mango tree shows the hero how the magic bird is to be cut out of it; the heroine is blessed and aided by the plantain tree, cotton tree, and sweet basil; she is rewarded by a plum and fig tree for services rendered to them.15 In one of the Kashmîr tales the tree informs the hero of the safety of his wife. So, in Grimm’s tale of the “Lucky Spinner,” the tree speaks when the man is about to cut it down.16
In one of the stories, as a link between tree and serpent worship, the great palace of the snake king is situated under a solitary Asoka tree in the Vindhyan forest. In the same collection we meet continually instances of tree worship. The Brâhman Somadatta worships a great Asvattha, or fig tree, by walking round it so as to keep it on his right, bowing and making an oblation; Mrigankadatta takes refuge in a tree sacred to Ganesa; and Naravâhanadatta comes to a sandal tree surrounded with a platform made of precious jewels, up which he climbs by means of ladders and adores it.17
We have a long series of legends by which certain famous trees are supposed to have been produced from the tooth twig of some saint. The famous hawthorn of Glastonbury was supposed to be sprung from the staff of Joseph of Arimathea, who having fixed it in the ground on Christmas Day, it took root immediately, put forth leaves, and the next day was covered with milk-white blossoms.18 Traditions of the Dantadhâvana or tooth-brush tree of Buddha still exist at Gonda; another at Ludhiâna is attributed to Abdul Qâdir Jilâni; there is a Buddha tree at Saketa, and [90]the great Banyan tree at Broach was similarly produced by Kabîr. So, the Santâls believe that good men turn into fruit-trees.19
Next come the numerous sacred groves scattered all over the country. These, as we have seen, are very often regarded as a survival from the primeval jungle, where the forest spirits have taken refuge. The idea is common both to the Aryan as well as to the Drâvidian races, from the latter of whom it was possibly derived.
Thus, among the jungle races we find that there are many groves, known as Sarna, in which the Cheros and Kharwârs offer triennial sacrifices of a buffalo or other animal. The Kisâns have sacred groves, called Sâ.
The Mundâri Kols keep “a fragment of the original forest, the trees in which have been for ages carefully protected, left when the clearance was first made, lest the sylvan gods of the place, disgusted at the wholesale felling of the trees which protected them, should abandon the locality. Even now if a tree is destroyed in the sacred grove, the gods evince their displeasure by withholding seasonable rain.” This idea of the influence of cutting trees on weather has been illustrated by Mr. Frazer from the usages of other races.20 So, among the Khândhs, “that timber may never be wanting, in case of accidents from fire or from enemies, a considerable grove, generally of Sâl, is uniformly dedicated by every village to the forest god, whose favour is ever and anon sought by the sacrifice of birds, hogs, and sheep, with the usual accompaniments of rice and an addled egg.
The consecrated grove is religiously preserved, the trees being occasionally pruned, but not a twig cut for use without the formal consent of the village and the formal propitiation of the god.”21 Among the Kols, in these groves the tutelary deities of the village are supposed to sojourn when attending to the wants of their votaries.22 In the Central Provinces [91]the Badiyas worship the manes of their ancestors in a grove of Sâj trees.23 In Berâr the wood of the Pathrot forests is believed to be dedicated to a neighbouring temple, and no one will cut or buy it; and in other places in the same province the sacred groves are so carefully preserved, that during the annual festivals held in them it is the custom to collect and burn solemnly all dead and fallen branches and trees.24
Among the higher races the same feelings attach to the holy groves of Mathura, each of which has appropriated one of the legends of the Krishna myth. Thus, there is a particularly sacred grove at Bhadanwâra, and it is believed that any one violating the sanctity of the place by telling a lie within its precincts will be stricken with leprosy.
In another at Hasanpur Bara the trees are under the protection of the curse of a Faqîr, and in many places people object to having toddy collected from the palm trees, because it necessitates cutting their necks.25 In the Northern Hills the Sâl and bamboos at Barmdeo are never cut, as they are sacred to the local Devî.26 In Kulu, “near the village were a number of cypresses, much decayed, and many quite dead. Some of my people had begun to strip off their dry branches for fuel, when one of the conductors of our caravan came to me in great agitation, and implored me to command them to desist.
The trees, he said, were sacred to the deities of the elements, who would be sure to revenge any injury done to them by visiting the neighbourhood with heavy and untimely snow.”27
In a village in Lucknow, noticeable among the trees is a “single mango tree, of fine growth and comely shape. It is the survivor of some old grove, which the owner, through straitened circumstances, has reluctantly cut down. He called it Jâk, or Sakhiya, the witness of the place where the old grove stood.”28 Jâk is, as we have seen, the Corn [92]spirit. The preservation of these little patches of the primeval jungle, with a view to conciliate the sylvan spirits of the place, is exactly analogous to what is known in Scotland as the “Gudeman’s Croft,” “Cloutie’s Croft,” or “Gudeman’s Field.” Often in Northern India little patches are left uncultivated in the corners of fields as a refuge for the spirits, as in North Scotland many farmers leave a corner of the field untilled, and say it is for the “Aul Man,” or the Devil.29
Some trees are, again, considered to be mystically connected with the fortunes of people and places. Thus, the Chilbil tree at Gonda, which, like others which have already been mentioned, sprouted from the tooth-twig of a saint, was supposed to be mysteriously connected with the fate of the last of the Gonda Râjas.
His kingdom was to last until the day a monkey sat on the tree, and this, it is said, happened on the morning when the Mutiny broke out which ended in the ruin of the dynasty.30 In the same way the moving wood of Dunsinane was fateful to the fortunes of Macbeth.
We have already referred to some of the regular tree sprites, like the Churel, Râkshasa, and Bansaptî Mâ. They are, like Kliddo, the North British sprite, small and delicate at first, but rapidly shooting into the clouds, while everything it overshadows is thrown into confusion.31
How sprites come to inhabit trees is well shown in an instance given from Bombay by Mr. Campbell. “In the Dakkhin, when a man is worried by a spirit, he gives it a tree to live in. The patient, or one of his relations, goes to a seer and brings the seer to his house, frankincense is burnt, and the sick man’s spirit comes into the seer’s body.
The people ask the spirit in the seer why the man is sick. [93]He says, ‘The ghost of the man you killed has come back, and is troubling you.’ Then they say, ‘What is to be done?’ The spirit says, ‘Put him in a place in his or in your land.’ The people say, ‘How can we put him?’ The spirit says, ‘Take a cock, five cocoanuts, rice, and red lead, and fill a bamboo basket with them next Sunday evening, and by waving the basket round the head of the patient, take the ghost out of the patient.’
When Sunday afternoon comes they call the exorcist. If the ghost has not haunted the sick man for a week, it is held that the man was worried by that ghost, who is now content with the proposed arrangement. If the patient is still sick, it is held that it cannot be that ghost, but it must be another ghost, perhaps a god who troubles him.
“The seer is again called, and his familiar spirit comes into him. They set the sick man opposite him, and the seer throws rice on the sick man, and the ghost comes into the patient’s body and begins to speak. The seer asks him, ‘Are you going or not?’ The ghost replies, ‘I will go if you give me a cock, a fowl, a cocoanut, red lead, and rice.’ They then bring the articles and show them to the spirit. The spirit sees the articles, and says, ‘Where is the cocoanut?’ or, ‘Where is the rice?’
They add what he says, and ask, ‘Is it right?’ ‘Yes, it is right,’ replies the spirit. ‘If we drive you out of Bâpu, will you come out?’ ask the people. ‘I will come out,’ replies the ghost. The people then say, ‘Will you never come back?’ ‘I will never return,’ replies the ghost. ‘If you ever return,’ says the seer’s spirit, ‘I will put you in a tanner’s well, sink you, and ruin you.’ ‘I will,’ says the spirit, ‘never come back, if you take these things to the Pîpal tree in my field. You must never hurt the Pîpal. If you hurt the Pîpal, I will come and worry you.’
“Then the friends of the patient make the cooked rice in a ball, and work a little hollow in the top of the ball. They sprinkle the ball with red powder, and in the hollow put a piece of a plantain leaf, and on the leaf put oil, and a wick, which they light. Then the Gâdi, or flesh-eating priest, [94]brings the goat in front of the sick man, sprinkles the goat’s head with red powder and flowers, and says to the spirit, ‘This is for you; take it.’ He then passes three fowls three times from the head to the foot of the sick man, and then from the head lowers all the other articles.
The Gâdi, or Mhâr, and some friends of the patient start for the place named by the spirit. When the party leave, the sick man is taken into the house and set close to the threshold. They put water on his eyes, and filling a pot with water, throw it outside where the articles were, and inside and outside scatter cowdung ashes, saying, ‘If you come in you will have the curse of Râma and Lakshmana.’ When the Gâdi and the party reach their destination, the Gâdi tells the party to bring a stone the size of a cocoanut.
When the stone is brought, the Gâdi washes it and puts it to the root of the tree and sets about it small stones. On the tree and on the middle stone he puts red lead, red powder, and frankincense. The people then tell the spirit to stay there, and promise to give him a cocoanut every year if he does them no harm. They then kill the goat and the fowls, and, letting the blood fall in front of the stone, offer the heart and liver to the spirit, and then return home.”32
From ceremonies like these, in which a malignant spirit is entombed in a tree and its surrounding stones, the transition to the general belief in tree sprites is easy. The use of the various articles to scare spirits will be understood from what has been already said on that subject.
The Karam Tree
Passing on to trees which are considered specially sacred, we find a good example in the Karam (Neuclea parvifolia), which is revered by the Kharwârs, Mânjhis, and some of the other allied Drâvidian races of the Vindhyan and Kaimûr ranges.
In Shâhâbâd, their great festival is the worship of the sacred tree. “Commenced early in the bright portion of [95]the month Bhâdon (August—September), it continues for fifteen days. It marks the gladness with which people wind up their agricultural operations all over the world. The festivities begin with a fast during the day. In the evening the young men of the village only proceed in a gay circle to the forest.
A leafy branch of the Karam is selected, cut, and daubed with red lead and butter. Brought in due state, it is planted in the yard in front of the house, and is decorated with wreaths of wild flowers, such as autumn yields to the Hill men with a bountiful hand. The homely ritual of the Kharwâr then follows, and is finished with the offering of corn and molasses.
The worship over, the head of the village community serves the men with a suitable feast. But the great rejoicing of the season is reserved for a later hour. After dinner the men and women appear in their gala dress, and range themselves in two opposite rows. The Mândar, or national drum of the aborigines, is then struck, and the dance commences with a movement forward, until the men and women draw close. Once face to face, a gradual movement towards the right is commenced, and the men and women advance in a slow but merry circle, which takes about an hour to describe.
“Under the influence of the example of the Hindus, the practice of a national dance in which women take a prominent part is already on the decline. When indulged in, it is done with an amount of privacy, closed to the public, but open to the members of the race only. It is difficult, however, to explain why the Karam tree should be so greatly adored by the Kharwârs.
It is an insignificant tree, with small leaves, which hardly affords shelter or shade, and possesses no title to be considered superior to others in its native forest. Nor in the religious belief of the Kharwârs have we been able to trace any classic tale connected with the growth of the Karam grove, similar to that of the peaceful olive of old, or aromatic laurel.
One important, though the last incident of the Karam worship is the appearance of the demon to the Kharwâr village men. [96]Generally at the conclusion of the dance the demon takes possession of a Kharwâr, who commences to talk, tremble, and jump, and ultimately climbs up the branch of the Karam and begins to eat the leaves. Consultation about the fortunes of the year then takes place, and when the demon has foretold them the festivities are concluded.”33
This account omits two important points which enable us to explain the meaning of the rite. The first is that when the festivities are over the branch of the Karam tree is taken and thrown into a stream or tank. This can hardly, on the analogy of similar practices to which reference has been already made, be anything but a charm to produce seasonable rain. Another is that sprigs of barley grown in a special way, as at the Upper India festival of the Jayî, which will be discussed later on, are offered to the tree.
This must be an invocation to the deity of the tree to prosper the growth of the autumn rice, which is just at this time being planted out.
I have seen the Karama danced by the Mânjhis, a Drâvidian tribe in Mirzapur, closely allied to the Kharwârs. The people there seem to affect no secrecy about it, and are quite ready to come and dance before Europeans for a small gratuity. The men expect to receive a little native liquor between the acts, but the ladies of the ballet will accept only a light supper of coarse sugar. The troupe consists of about a dozen men and the same number of women. The sexes stand in rows opposite to each other, the women clinging together, each with her arms clasped round her neighbour’s waist.
One man carrying the sacred Mândar drum, beats it and leads the ballet, hopping about in a curious way on one leg alternately. The two lines advance and retreat, the women bowing low all the time, with their heads bending towards the ground, and joining occasionally in the refrain. Most of the songs are apparently modern, bearing on the adventures of Râma, Lakshmana, and Sîtâ; some are love songs, many of which are, as might have been expected, rude and indecent.
The whole scene is a curious picture of [97]genuine aboriginal life. At the regular autumn festival the ceremony degenerates into regular saturnalia, and is, if common rumour be trusted, accompanied by an absolute abandonment of decency and self-respect which culminates in the most unrestrained debauchery.
The modern explanation of the dance is embodied in a folk-tale which turns on the verbal confusion between Karam, the name of the tree, and the Sanskrit Karma, meaning “good works.” It is, of course, comparatively modern, and quite useless as a means for ascertaining the real basis of the custom, which is probably a means of propitiating the tree god to grant favourable weather.
The Fig Tree
Among the sacred trees the various varieties of the fig hold a conspicuous place. Many ideas have probably united in securing reverence for them. Thus the Banyan with its numerous stems may fitly be regarded as the home of gods or spirits. Others are valued as a source of food, or because they possess juices valued as drink or medicine.
Such is the Umbar, the Udambara of the Sanskrit writers, which is known as Kshîra Vriksha or “milk tree,” and Hemadugha or “golden juiced,” the Ficus glomerata of botanists, from the succulent roots of which water can be found in times of drought. The juice has, in popular belief, many valuable properties.
A decoction of it is useful for bile, melancholy, and fainting; it prevents abortion and increases the mother’s milk.34 According to the old ritual, of its wood is made the seat of the father god Vivasvat, which is specially worshipped at the close of the Soma sacrifice; the throne on which Soma is placed is made of it, and so is the staff given by the Adhvaryu to the sacrificer at the initiation rite, and the staff of the Vaisya student.
So with the Pîpal (Ficus religiosa), which is connected with old temples, as it forces its roots into the crumbling masonry, grows to a great age, and, like the poplar, moves its leaves at [98]the slightest breath of wind. The English tradition about the aspen is that since its wood was used to make the Cross it ever trembles with shame.
The Pippala or Asvattha is said by some to be the abode of Brahma, and is sometimes invested with the sacred thread by the regular Upanâyana rite. Others say that in it abide Brahma, Vishnu, and Siva, but specially Vishnu in his incarnation as Krishna. Others, again, connect it with Bâsdeo or Vasudeva, the father of Krishna.
The Vata or Nyagrodha (Ficus Indica) was, according to the ancient ritual, possessed of many virtues, and the king was directed to drink its juice instead of that of the Soma.35 The famous Allahâbâd fig tree is mentioned in the Râmâyana and in the Uttara Râma Charitra. Râma, Sîtâ and Lakshmana are said to have rested beneath its branches. Another legend tells how the Rishi Mârkandeya had the presumption to ask Nârâyana to show him a specimen of his delusive power.
The god in answer to his prayer drowned the whole world in a sudden flood, and only the Akshaya Vata or imperishable Banyan tree raised its head above the waters, with a little child seated on its topmost bough, that put out its head and saved the terrified saint just as he was on the point of drowning. The Buddhist pilgrim, Hwen Thsang, says that in his time before the principal room of the temple there was a tree with wide-spreading branches, which was said to be the dwelling of a man-eating demon.
The tree was surrounded with human bones, the remains of pilgrims who had offered themselves at the temple, a custom which had been observed from time immemorial. General Cunningham identifies this tree with the Akshaya Vata, which is still an object of worship. The well-known Banyan tree of Ceylon is said to be descended from it.36
It was under the Bodhi tree at Gaya that the Buddha obtained enlightenment. The great sacred Banyan tree of the Himâlaya is said to have reached from Badarinâth to [99]Nand Prayâg, a distance of eighty miles.37 In Bombay women worship the Banyan tree on the fifteenth of the month of Jeth in honour of Savitrî, the pious wife of Satyavan, who when her husband was cutting a Banyan tree was struck by the axe and killed. Yama appeared and claimed her husband, but at last he was overcome by the devotion of Savitrî and restored her husband to her.38
Of the Gûlar (Ficus glomerata) it is believed that on the night of the Divâlî the gods assemble to pluck its flowers; hence no one has ever seen the tree in blossom. It is unlucky to grow a Gûlar tree near the house, as it causes the death of sons in the family.
High-caste Hindu women worship the Pîpal tree in the form of Vasudeva on the Amâvasya or fifteenth day of the month, when it falls on Monday. They pour water at its roots, smear the trunk with red lead and ground sandalwood, and walk round it one hundred and eight times in the course of the sun, putting at each circuit a copper coin, a sweetmeat, or a Brâhmanical cord at the root, all of which are the perquisite of beggars.
An old woman then recites the tale of the Râja Nikunjali and his queen Satyavratî, who won her husband by her devotion to the sacred tree. Hence devotion to it is supposed to promote wedded happiness.
In Râjputâna the Pîpal and Banyan are worshipped by women on the 29th day of Baisâkh (April–May) to preserve them from widowhood.39 The Pîpal is invoked at the rite of investiture with the sacred thread at marriages and at the foundation-laying of houses. Vows are made under its shade for the boon of male offspring, and pious women veil their faces when they pass it. Many, as they revolve round it, twist a string of soft cotton round the trunk. The vessel of water for the comfort of the departing soul on its way to the land of the dead is hung from its branches, and beneath it are placed the rough stones which form the shrine of the village godling.
Its wood is used in parts of [100]the Aranî, or sacred fire-drill, and for the spoons with which butter is poured on the holy fire. When its branches are attacked by the lac insect, a branch on which they have settled is taken to the Ganges at Allahâbâd and consigned to the Ganges. This, it is believed, saves the tree from further injury.
The tree should be touched only on Sunday, when Lakshmî, the goddess of wealth, abides in it; on every other day of the week, poverty and misfortune take up their quarters in it. The son of a deceased parent should pour three hundred and sixty brass vessels of water round its root to ensure the repose of the dead man. Hindus on Sunday after bathing pour a vessel of water at its root and walk round it four times. Milk and sugar are sometimes mixed with the water to intensify the charm.
When the new moon falls on Monday, pious Hindus walk one hundred and eight times round it and wind cotton threads about the trunk. In rich Hindu families small silver models of the tree answer the same purpose. When a statement is made on oath, the witness takes one of the leaves in his hand and invokes the gods above him to crush him, as he crushes the leaf, if he is guilty of falsehood.
Though Sir Monier-Williams gives currency to it, it may be suspected that the story of the Banyas who objected to Pîpal trees being planted in their bâzâr, as they could not carry on their roguery under the shade of the holy tree, has been invented for the delectation of the confiding European tourist. As a matter of fact you will often see merchants plant the tree in the immediate neighbourhood of their shops. It is needless to say that this regard for the Pîpal extends through Africa, New Zealand, Australia, Sumatra, and Java.40
The Sâl
The Sâl or Sâkhu is also a holy tree. It is held in much respect by the jungle races, who consider it the abode of spirits and erect their shrines under its shade. The Bâgdis [101]and Bauris of Bengal are married in an arbour made of the branches of the Sâl (Shorea robusta) after they have been first married to a Mahua tree (Bassia latifolia). Patches of this tree are often reserved as fragments of the primitive jungle, of which it must have constituted an important part.
The Shîsham
The Shîsham or Sîson, the Sinsapa of the Sanskrit writers, is in the tales of Somadeva the haunt of the Vetâla.41
The Jand
In the Panjâb the Jand tree (Prosopis spicigera) is very generally reverenced, more especially in those parts where it forms a chief feature in the larger flora of the great arid grazing tracts. It is commonly selected to mark the abode or shelter the shrine of some deity. It is to it that, as a rule, rags are dedicated as offerings, and it is employed in the marriage ceremonies of many tribes. Most Khatris and Brâhmans perform rites to it, especially at festivals connected with domestic occurrences. A custom prevails in some families of never putting home-made clothes upon the children, but of begging them from friends. This is, as we have already seen, done with the view of avoiding the Evil Eye.
The ceremony of putting on these clothes is usually performed when the child is three years of age. It is taken to the Jand tree, from which a bough is cut with a sickle and planted at the root of the tree as a propitiation of the indwelling spirit. The Swâstika symbol is made before it with the rice, flour, and sugar brought as an offering to the tree. Nine threads from the Mauli, or string used by women to tie up their back hair, are then taken out and cut into lengths, one of which is tied round the tree with the knot characteristic of Siva or Krishna, and another round a piece of dried molasses, which is placed on the Swâstika.
Mantras or spells are repeated and the sugar and rice are distributed [102]among the women and children; for no male adult, except the officiating Brâhman, attends the ceremony. The Brâhman then dresses the child in the new clothes, on which he impresses the mark of his hand in saffron, and girds the child’s loins with a hair string, on which is tied the bag or purse containing the Brâhman’s fee. The hair string has in front a triangular piece of red silk, which, as we have already noticed, is one of the most familiar forms of amulet intended to repel the influence of evil spirits. Similarly at marriages, they perform the ceremony of cutting off and burning a small branch of the tree, and offerings are made to it by the relations of persons suffering from small-pox.42
The Aonla
The Aonla (Emblica officinalis) is another sacred tree. It is considered propitious and chaste, and is worshipped in the month of Kârttik (December) by Brâhmans being fed under it, hair strings (mauli) being tied round it, and seven circumambulations made in the course of the sun. The eleventh of the month Phâlgun (February) is sacred to it, and on this occasion libations are poured at the foot of the tree, a string of red or yellow colour is bound round the trunk, prayers are offered to it for the fruitfulness of women, animals, and crops, and the ceremony concludes with a reverential inclination to the sacred tree.43
The Mahua
The Mahua (Bassia latifolia), which so admirably combines beauty with utility, and is one of the main sources whence the jungle tribes derive their food and intoxicants, is held in the highest respect by the people of the Central Indian Highlands. It is the marriage tree of the Kurmis, Lohârs, Mahilis, Mundas, and Santâls of Bengal. Many of the [103]Drâvidian races, such as the Bhuiyas, adore it, and a branch is placed in the hands of the bride and bridegroom during the marriage ceremony.
They also revolve round a bough of the tree planted in the ground by the Baiga or aboriginal priest. Some of the semi-Hinduized Bengal Gonds have the remarkable custom of tying the corpses of adult males by a cord to the Mahua tree, in an upright position, previous to burial. It is also the rule with them that all adult males go to the forest and clear a space round an Âsan tree (Terminalia alata tormentosa), where they make an altar and present offerings to the tribal godling, Bara Deo, after which they have a general picnic.44
The Cotton Tree
The Salmali or Semal (Bombax heptaphyllum) is likewise sacred, an idea perhaps derived from its weird appearance and the value of its fibre, which was largely used by the primitive races of the jungle. It gave its name to one of the seven Dvîpas or great divisions of the known continent, and to a special hell, in which the wicked are tortured with the Kûta Salmali, or thorny rod of this tree.
In the folk-tales a hollow cotton tree is the refuge of the heroine.45 The posts of the marriage pavilion and stake round which the bride and bridegroom revolve are very commonly made of its wood among the Kols and allied Drâvidian tribes, as are also the parrot totem emblems used at marriages by the Kharwârs and many menial castes.
The Bânsphors, a branch of the great Dom race in the North-Western Provinces, fix up a branch of the Gûlar and Semal in the marriage shed. “Among the wild tribes it is considered the favourite seat of gods still more terrible than those of the Pîpal, because their superintendence is confined to the neighbourhood, and having their attention less occupied, they can venture to make a more minute scrutiny into the [104]conduct of the people immediately around them.
The Pîpal is occupied by one or two of the Hindus triad, the gods of creation, preservation, and destruction, who have the affairs of the universe to look after, but the cotton and other trees are occupied by some minor deities, who are vested with a local superintendence over the affairs of a district, or perhaps of a single village.”46
The Nîm
The Nimba or Nîm (Azidirachta Indica) is sacred in connection with the worship of the godlings of disease, who are supposed to reside in it. In particular it is occupied by Sîtalâ and her six sisters. Hence during the season when epidemics prevail, from the seventh day of the waning moon of Chait to the same date in Asârh, that is during the hot weather, women bathe, dress themselves in fresh clothes, and offer rice, sandal-wood, flowers, and sometimes a burnt offering with incense at the root of the tree.
The Nîm tree is also connected with snake worship, as its leaves repel snakes. In this it resembles the Yggdrassil of Europe, the roots of which were half destroyed by the serpents which nestled among them. The leaves and wood of the ash tree, the modern successor of the mystic tree of Teutonic mythology, are still regarded throughout all Northern Europe as a powerful protective from all manner of snakes and evil worms.47 In Cornwall no kind of snake is ever found near the ashen tree, and a branch of it will prevent a snake from coming near a person.48 Nîm leaves are, it may be noted, useless as a snake scarer unless they are fresh.49
The leaves are also used throughout Northern India as a means of avoiding the death pollution, or rather as a mode of driving off the spirit which accompanies the mourners [105]from the cremation ground.
Hence after the funeral they chew the leaves and some water is sprinkled over them with a branch of the tree. “So great is the power of the Nîm over spirits and spirit disease, that in Bombay, when a woman is delivered of a child, Nîm leaves and cow’s urine are, as a rule, kept at the entrance of the lying-in room, in order that the child and its mother may not be affected by an evil spirit, and on their New Year’s Day it is considered essential for every Hindu to worship the Nîm tree and to eat its leaves mixed with pepper and sugar, that he may not suffer from any sickness or disease during the year.
In practice very few worship the tree, but its leaves are generally eaten by most of them. Among the Chitpâwan Brâhmans, a pot filled with cow’s urine is set at the door of the lying-in room with a Nîm branch in it, and anyone coming in must dip the branch in the urine and with it sprinkle his feet. Among Govardhan Brâhmans of Pûna, when a child is born, Nîm leaves are hung at the front and back doors of the house.
In Ahmadnagar, when a person is bitten by a snake, he is taken to Bhairoba’s temple, crushed Nîm leaves mixed with chillies are given him to eat, and Nîm leaves waved round his head. Among the Nâmdeo Shimpis of Ahmadnagar each of the mourners carries from the pyre a twig of the Nîm tree, and the Kanphatas of Cutch get the cartilage of their ears slit, and in the slit a Nîm stick is stuck, the wound being cured by a dressing of Nîm oil.”50
We have already found this tree connected with Sun worship, as in the case of the Nimbârak Vaishnavas, as well as with that of Sîtalâ, the goddess of small-pox. Among the wilder tribes it is also revered. The Jogis, a criminal tribe in Madras, reverence it and brand their dogs with a representation of the tree.51 The Banjâras, or wandering carriers, use a branch of the tree as a test of continence.
The jealous husband throws it on the ground and says, “If thou be a true woman, lift that Nîm branch.” [106]The Doms, or vagrant sweepers of the Eastern District of the North-Western Provinces, hold the Nîm tree sacred to Kâlî or Sîtalâ, and the Kurmis dedicate it to Kâlî Bhavânî, and worship this tree and the Pîpal under which the image of Devî is placed.52
The Cocoanut
The cocoanut is considered one of the most sacred fruits, and is called Srîphala, or the fruit of Srî, the goddess of prosperity. It is the symbol of fertility, and all through Upper India is kept on shrines and presented by the priests to women who desire children. One of the main causes of the respect paid to it seems to be its resemblance to a human head, and hence it is often used as a type of an actual human sacrifice.
It is also revered for its uses as food and a source of intoxicating liquor. But it is not a native of Northern India, and is naturally more revered in its home along the western coast. In Gujarât and Kanara it represents the house spirit, and is worshipped as a family god. The Konkan Kunbis put up and worship a cocoanut for each of their relations who dies, and before beginning to cut the rice, break a cocoanut and distribute it among the reapers. The Prabhus, at every place where three roads meet, wave a cocoanut round the face of the bridegroom, and break it into pieces to repel evil influences.
The Musalmâns of the Dakkhin cut a cocoanut and lime into pieces and throw them over the head of the bridegroom to scare evil spirits. Among some classes of ascetics the skull is broken at the time of cremation with a cocoanut in order to allow the ghost to escape. In Western India, at the close of the rains, cocoanuts are thrown in to pacify the sea. Its place as a substitute for a human sacrifice in Northern India seems to have been taken by the pumpkin, which is used in much the same way.
The Mimosa
The Khair, or Mimosa (Acacia catechu) seems to owe most [107]of the estimation in which it is held to its use in producing the sacred fire. It forms, on account of its hardness, the base of the Aranî or sacred fire-drill, and in it the wedge of the softer Pîpal wood works and fire is produced by friction.
The Yûpa or sacrificial post to which the victim was tied for the sacrifice was often made of this wood. In the great horse sacrifice of the Râmâyana, twenty-one of these posts were erected, six made of Vilva (Agle marmelos), six of Khadira or Acacia, six of Palâsa (Butea frondosa), one of Udumbara (Ficus glomerata), Sleshmataka (Cordia myxa), and one of Devadru, the Deodâr pine tree.
Of the Khair tree Bishop Heber thus writes in his Journal:53 “As I returned home I passed a fine tree of the Mimosa, with leaves at a little distance so much resembling those of the mountain ash, that I was for a moment deceived, and asked if it did not bear fruit. He answered, ‘No; but it was a very noble tree, being called the “Imperial tree,” for its excellent qualities.’
That it slept all night, and was alive all day, withdrawing its leaves if any one attempted to touch them. Above all, however, it was useful as a preservative against magic; a sprig worn in the turban, or suspended over the bed, was a perfect security against all spells, Evil Eye, etc., insomuch that the most formidable wizard would not, if he could help it, approach its shade. One indeed, they said, who was very renowned for his power (like Lorrinite of Kehama) of killing plants and drying up their sap with a look, had come to this very tree and gazed upon it intently; ‘but,’ said the old man, who told me this with an air of triumph, ‘look as he might, he could do the tree no harm,’ a fact of which I made no question.
I was amused and surprised to find the superstition, which in England and Scotland attaches to the rowan tree, here applied to a tree of nearly similar form.”
This superstition regarding the rowan tree and the elder is familiar in European folk-lore. In Ireland the roots of the elder and those of an apple tree which bears red apples, boiled together and drunk fasting, expel evil [108]spirits. In connection with this idea that the mimosa sleeps at night, pious Hindus prefer not to eat betel leaves after sunset, as catechu forms part of the ingredients with which they are prepared.
The Plantain
The plantain is also sacred, probably on account of the value of its fruit. The leaves are hung on the marriage booth, and a branch is placed near the pole or sacred fire round which the bride and bridegroom revolve. In Madras, when premature delivery takes place, the child is laid on a plantain leaf smeared with oil, the leaf is changed daily, and the baby is thus treated for the period which is less than the normal time of delivery. In Bengal, in consecrating an image of Durgâ, a plantain tree is brought in and bathed.
It is clothed as a woman with Bel apples representing the breasts; nine sorts of leaves smeared with red paint are hung round the breast and it is worshipped.54 The leaves are also used as a remedy for wounds and ulcers, a practice which prevailed in the time of Shakespeare. In “Romeo and Juliet” Benvolio says:—
“Take thou some new infection to thine eye,
And the rank poison of the old will die.”
To which Romeo answers:—
“Your plantain leaf is excellent for that.”
“For what, I pray thee?”
“For your broken skin.”
In the folk-tales the deserted wife sweeps the ground round a plantain tree and it gives her a blessing.55
The Pomegranate
So with the pomegranate, which among the Pârsis of Bombay is held in high respect. Its twigs were used to make the sacred broom, its seeds, in order to scare evil [109]spirits, were thrown over the child when it was girt with the sacred thread, and its juice was squeezed into the mouth of the dying.56 In its fruit Anâr Shâhzâdî, the Princess Pomegranate, commonly lies hidden. But it is in Upper India considered unlucky to have such a tree in the house, as it is envious and cannot bear that any one should be lovelier than itself.57
The Tamarind
The Orâons of Bengal revere the tamarind and bury their dead under its shade.58 One special rite among the Drâvidian races is the Imlî ghontnâ or “the grinding of the tamarind,” when the mother of the bridegroom grinds on the family curry stone some pods of the tamarind. The tree was a special favourite with the early Musalmân conquerors, and the finest specimens of it will be found in their cemeteries and near their original settlements.
The Siras
In the Panjâb the leaves of the Siras (Acacia sirisa) are a powerful charm. In many villages in Upper India they will be seen hung up on the rope crossing the village cattle path, when epidemics prevail among men or animals.59 In this case the effect of the charm is enhanced by adding to them a tile covered with some hocus-pocus formula, written by a Faqîr, and rude models of a pair of wooden sandals, a mud rake, a plough-share and other agricultural implements which are considered effectual to scare the demon which brings the plague.
The Mango
The Mango is used in much the same way. It is, as we shall see, used in making the aspersion at rural ceremonies. [110]The leaves are hung up at marriages in garlands on the house door, and on the shed in which the rite is performed, and after the wedding is over these are carefully consigned to running water by the bride and bridegroom. It is also used as a charm. Before you see a flower on a mango tree shut your eyes and make some one lead you to a tree in flower. Rub the flowers into your hands, and you thus acquire the power of curing scorpion stings by moving your hand over the place. But this power lasts only for one year, and must be renewed when the season of flowers again returns.
The Tulasî
The Tulasî or holy basil (Ocymum sanctum) is closely connected with the worship of Vishnu. At the last census over eleven hundred persons in the North-Western Provinces recorded themselves as worshippers of the plant. It is known in Sanskrit as Haripriya, or “the beloved of Vishnu,” and Bhûtaghni, or “destroyer of demons.” It seems to owe the favour with which it is regarded to its aromatic and healing properties.
Vishnu, so runs the legend, was fascinated with the beauty of Vrindâ, the wife of Jâlandhara, to redeem him from whose enthralment, the gods applied to Lakshmî, Gaurî, and Swadhâ. Each gave them seed to sow where Vishnu was enchanted. The seeds given by the deities sprang up as the Dhâtrî or Emblica Myrobalan, the Mâlatî or jasmine, and the Tulasî, or basil, and appearing in female form they attracted the admiration of the deity and saved him from the wiles of Vrindâ.60
Another legend comes from Bombay.61 Tulasî was daughter of the Râja Dharmadhwaja, and by her devotions gained the favour of Vishnu, but she married the demon Sankhachûda, who by the virtue of his wife overcame the gods. They appealed to Vishnu, but he could not help them, as the demon was his votary. At last it was resolved that he should personate her husband and gain her love. [111]When Tulasî was aware of the deception she was about to curse him, but he pacified her by promising to marry her and make her name immortal. He added that those women who married an image of him to the Tulasî on the eleventh day of the month Kârttik would prosper.
The Tulasî is also connected with Sîtâ and Rukminî, and the prayer to her is: “I adore that Tulasî, in whose roots are all the places of pilgrimage, in whose centre are all the deities, and in whose upper branches are all the Vedas.” The plant is specially worshipped by women after bathing, and more particularly at the full moon of Kârttik, if the bathing be in the Ganges. The chief ceremony is, however, the marriage of the infant Krishna to the plant, which is carried out by pious people, often at a considerable cost, in accordance with the standard ritual.
The Palâsa
The Palâsa or Dhâk is sacred, partly on account of its use in producing the sacred fire, and partly because its orange blossoms are used to dye the coloured dust and water thrown about at the Holî festival. It is supposed to be in some way connected with the Soma, and by one account was produced from the feather of the falcon imbued with the Soma. Its trifoliate leaves represent the trident, or the three great gods, Brahma, Vishnu, and Siva, or birth, life, and death. The leaves are used to form the platters employed at various feasts and religious rites; the wood in the Yûpa, or sacrificial pole, and in the funeral pyre.
In one respect it resembles the rowan, which is also a sacred tree, but why this is so has been much debated. “Possibly the inaccessible rocks on which the tree is not unfrequently found to grow and the conspicuous colour of its berries may have counted for something, but this falls decidedly short of a solution of the question. One kind of answer that would meet the case, provided it be countenanced by facts, may be briefly indicated, namely, that the berries of the rowan were used in some early period in the brewing [112]of an intoxicating drink, or better still, of the first intoxicating drink known to the Teuto-Aryan Celts.”62 The connection between the Palâsa and the Soma perhaps indicates that this may have been the case. It was again a Vedic custom to drive the cows from their calves by striking them with a rod of a Palâsa tree.
In Yorkshire it used to be the custom for “farmers to have whip-stocks of rowan tree wood, and it was held that thus supplied, they were safe against having their draught fixed, or their horses made restive by a witch. If ever a draught came to a standstill, then the nearest witchwood tree was resorted to, and a stick cut to flog the horses on with, to the discomfiture of the malevolent witch who had caused the stoppage.” In some parts of Scotland the milkmaid carries a switch of the magical rowan to expel the demon which sometimes enters the cow; and in Germany, striking the cow with this magical wand is believed to render her fertile.63
The Bel
The Bel (Aegle marmelos) is specially dedicated to Siva, because it has three leaflets in the leaf, and because of its medicinal value. Siva is called Bilvadanda, “he with a staff of the Bel wood,” and its leaves are used in his service. Its leaves laid on the Lingam cool and refresh the heated deity. The wood is one of those used for the sacrificial post. Its fruit is called Srîphala, because it is supposed to have been produced from the milk of the goddess Srî.
The Bamboo
The bamboo is sacred on account of its manifold uses and because among the jungle races fire is produced by the friction of two strips of bamboo. Besides this it contains a sort of manna, known as Bânslochan or Tabashîr, which is [113]in high repute as a medicine. The flowering of the bamboo is generally regarded as a sure sign of famine. The bamboo often appears in the folk-tales.
Thus in one of the tales of Somadeva,64 “they asked Sumeru about the origin of the bow, and he said: ‘Here is a great and glorious wood of bamboo canes; whatever bamboos are cut from it and thrown into this lake, become great and wonderful bows; and those bows have been acquired by several of the gods, and by Asuras and Gandharvas and distinguished Vidyadhâras.’” In one of the Santâl tales,65 the bamboo grows from the grave of the murdered girl, and remonstrates when the Jogi goes to cut it, but out of a piece he finally makes a flute of wondrous sweetness. Among the jungle races the bamboo often is used to make the poles of the marriage shed, while the central post is made of the wood of the holy Siddh tree, the Hardwickia binata.
In Gujarât,66 the Turis, to keep off evil spirits, lay two slips of bamboo in the lying-in room. The Prabhus of Pûna at their marriages put bamboo baskets on the heads of the bride, bridegroom, and guests. The Mhârs and Mângs make the married pair stand in bamboo baskets. The Muâsis of Bengal make the wedded pair revolve round a bamboo post. The Birhors worship Darha in the form of a split bamboo; the Kachâris and Gâros worship a bamboo planted in the ground; the Râjmahâl hill-man worships three bamboos with streamers, as Chaunda Gusâîn.67 The use of the bamboo decorated with a streamer as a perch for the deity is common at all low-caste shrines in Northern India.
The Sandal
The Sandal, again, in the form of powder or paste is very largely used in all Hindu rites, and in making the marks characteristic of sect or caste. “In Bombay, every evening, the Pârsis burn sandal chips in their houses, as the smell of [114]sandal is supposed to drive away evil spirits, and the Pûna Ghadsis or musicians say that they are sprung from sandal wood, because it is one of their tribal guardians.68”
The Birch
The Bhûrja, a species of birch, is also sacred. It, too, is supposed to drive away evil spirits. Its bark, now called Bhojpatra, is used for writing charms, and for other mystic purposes. When a corpse is burnt by low-caste people, when a person dies at the hands of an executioner, when he dies on a bed, or when he is drowned and his body cannot be found, a rite known as Palâsvidhi is performed. An effigy of the deceased is made, in which twigs of the Palâsa tree represent the bones, a cocoanut or Bel fruit the head, pearls or cowry shells the eyes, and a piece of birch bark or the skin of a deer the cuticle.
It is then filled up with Urad pulse instead of flesh and blood, and a presiding priest recites a spell to bring life into the image, which is symbolized by putting a lighted lamp close to the head. When the light goes out, life is believed to be extinct and the funeral rites are performed in the regular way, the only exception being that the period of impurity lasts for three, instead of ten days.
Other Sacred Trees
The number of these trees and plants which scare evil spirits or are invested with other mystic qualities is infinite. We may close the catalogue with the Babûl or Kîkar (Acacia Arabica), which when cut pours out a reddish juice. One of these trees, when the Musalmâns tried to cut it near a shrine at Lahore, is said to have poured out drops of blood as a warning. But on the whole it is an unlucky tree, and the resort of evil spirits. If you throw water for thirteen days successively on a Babûl tree, you will get the evil spirits which inhabit it into your power.
They tell of a man who [115]did this near Sahâranpur, who when taken to his cremation, no sooner was the light set to his pyre than he got up and walked home, and is alive to this day. His neighbours naturally look on his proceedings with a certain degree of suspicion. The ghost of a man burnt with this wood will not rest quietly, and any one who rests on a bed made of it is afflicted with evil dreams. An old servant of mine once solemnly remonstrated against the use of such a bed by his master. Such a bed, he remarked, should be only used for a clergyman guest, who by virtue of his profession is naturally protected against such uncanny visitations.
Tree Marriages
We now come to discuss the curious custom of marriages to trees. This prevails widely throughout Northern India. Thus, in some parts of Kângra, if a betrothed but as yet unmarried girl can succeed in performing the marriage ceremony with the object of her choice round a fire made in the jungle with certain wild plants, her betrothal is annulled, and this informal marriage is recognized.69 In the Panjâb a Hindu cannot be legally married a third time.
So, if he wishes to take a third wife, he is married to a Babûl tree (Acacia Arabica), or to the Akh plant (Asclepia gigantea), first, so that the wife he subsequently marries is counted as his fourth, and the evil consequences of marrying a third time are thus avoided.70 In Bengal, writes Dr. Buchanan,71 “Premature marriage is considered so necessary to Hindu ideas of prosperity, that even the unfortunate children who are brought up for prostitution are married with all due ceremony to a plantain tree, before the age when they would be defiled by remaining single.”
In the North-Western Provinces, among some of the higher classes of Brâhmans, if a man happens to lose one or two wives and is anxious to marry a third, the ceremony of his third [116]marriage is first gone through with an Akh plant. The family priest takes the intending bridegroom to the fields where there are Akh plants and repeats the marriage formula. This is known as Arka Vivâh, or Akh marriage, and it is believed that the plant itself dies soon after being married. In Oudh, it is very unlucky to marry a couple if the ruling stars of the youth form a more powerful combination than those of the female.
The way to get out of the difficulty is to marry the girl first to a Pîpal tree. In the Panjâb, rich people who have no children marry a Brâhman to a Tulasî plant. The pseudo-father of the bride treats the Brâhman ever afterwards as his son-in-law, which, it is needless to say, is a very good thing for the Brâhman.72 If the birth of a child does not follow this ceremony, they have good reason for apprehending that a messenger from Yama, the god of death, will harass them on their way to the spirit world.
In Bombay, among the Kudva Kunbis of Gujarât, when there are certain difficulties in the marriage of a girl, she is married to a mango or some other fruit tree. Mr. Campbell73 accounts for this on the principle that a spirit fears trees, especially fruit trees. Among another branch of the same tribe, when a girl is marriageable and a bridegroom cannot be found, the practice is to substitute a bunch of flowers, and the marriage ceremony proceeds. Next day, by which time the flowers have begun to fade, they are thrown into a well, and the bride of yesterday is considered a widow.
As a widow can marry at any time without social discredit, the parents find a husband for her at their leisure.74
So in Bengal, the Rautiyas before the wedding go through the form of marriage to a mango tree.75 Among the Mundâri Kols, “the bride and bridegroom are well anointed with turmeric, and wedded, not to each other, but the bride to a Mahua tree, and the groom to a mango, or both to [117]mango trees.
They are made to touch the tree with red lead, and then to clasp it, and they are tied to it.”76 Among the Kurmîs, the bridegroom on the wedding morning is first married to a mango tree. He embraces the tree, is for a time tied to it in a peculiar manner with a thread, and he daubs it with red lead. Then the thread is removed from the tree, and is used to attach some of the leaves to the bridegroom’s wrist. The bride is similarly wedded to a Mahua tree.77
Similarly in the Himâlayas, if anyone desires to marry a third time, whether his other wives are alive or not, he is married to the Akh plant. He builds an altar near the plant, or brings a branch home and plants it near the altar.
The regular marriage ceremony is then performed, and a thread is wound ten times round the plant with the recitation of appropriate verses. Four days the plant remains where it was fixed, and on the fifth day the celebrant is entitled to commence the marriage ceremony with his third wife. Similarly, a person is married to an earthen jar, when from some conjunction of the planets the omens are unfavourable, or when, from some bodily or mental defect, no one will marry the boy or girl. The usual ceremonies are gone through, and the neck of the boy or girl is connected by a string with the neck of the vessel, and water is sprinkled over them with a brush made of five leaves.78
In Nepâl every Newâr girl is, while a child, married to a Bel fruit, which, after the ceremony, is thrown into some sacred river. When she arrives at puberty a husband is selected for her, but should the marriage prove unpleasant, she can divorce herself by the simple process of placing a betel-nut under her husband’s pillow, and walking off. Widows are allowed to re-marry; in fact, a Newâr woman is never a widow, as the Bel fruit to which she first married is supposed to be always in existence.79 [118]
Before considering a possible explanation of this group of customs, we may note other instances of pseudo-marriages. We have, in the first place, instances of the marriage of girls to a god. “In the Gurgâon District, in the Rewâri Tahsîl, at the village of Bâs Doda, a fair is held on the 26th of Chait and the two following days. I was told that formerly girls of the Dhînwar class used to be married to the god at these festivals, and that they always died soon afterwards, but that of late years the practice has been discontinued.”80
Again, we have some traces of the allied custom of compulsory religious prostitution. It is said that Santâl girls are required to submit to compulsory prostitution once in their lives at Telkûpi Ghât. “It is said that the custom originally arose from the killing of a girl by her parents for incontinence; since when, girls have been permitted to do as they please, and what was once permissive has become compulsory.”81 There is no reference to this in Colonel Dalton’s account of the Santâls, and Mr. Beglar’s authority is not quite satisfactory. But on the analogy of similar rites in Babylon, as described by Herodotus, it is very likely that such a custom once prevailed. There is some evidence that similar customs once prevailed at the temple of Jaggannâth and other Indian shrines.
We have, again, folk-tale references to the same custom in a tradition of the Vallabhachârya sect of the daughter of a banker, who, by her devotion to him, won the love of the god Krishna in the form of an image. Finally the deity revealed himself, and she went with him to Brindaban and remained with her divine husband till he carried her off to the heaven of Vishnu. This, however, is hardly perhaps more than an example of the mystic union of the god with his worshippers, which forms such a large part of the Vaishnava hagiology, and is familiar in the tales of Krishna and the Gopîs.
There is, again, among children in the neighbourhood of Sahâranpur, a game which may be a survival of some more [119]primitive rite. At the Tîj festival, which occurs in the rainy season, girls dressed in their best go to a tank near the city. After dropping offerings into the water in honour of Khwâja Khizr, they divide into two parties, each of which selects a leader, one of whom is known as the bride and the other a bridegroom. The latter is decorated with a paper crown decked with tinsel.
The clothes of the pair are knotted together, and they are made to walk round a Tulasî plant or a Pîpal tree on the banks of the tank, in a mock form of the marriage ritual. Meanwhile each party chaffs the other, saying, “Your bride (or bridegroom) is one-eyed.” They return home with merriment of this kind, and when they come to the house the knot tied in the garments of the pair is unloosed.
We have, again, instances of the marriages of, or to animals. In parts of the Panjâb, if a man have lost two or three wives in succession, he gets a woman to catch a bird and adopt it as her daughter. He then marries the bird, and immediately pays over the bride-gift to the woman that adopted his bird-bride, which he divorces. After this he can get himself married to another woman, and she will probably live.82
So, there have been many instances of Râjas marrying animals with the customary rites. Some years ago, one of the Gâekwârs of Baroda spent a large sum in marrying some favourite pigeons, and a Râja of Nadiya spent a lâkh of rupees in marrying two monkeys.
Lastly, there are numerous survivals of what can hardly be anything else but tree marriage. Among the Bâwariyas, a vagrant tribe in Sirsa, the bride and bridegroom go outside the village to a Jand tree, which, as we have seen already, is regarded as sacred, move round it seven times, and then cut off a branch with an axe.83 In a Bhîl marriage, the pair walk round the Salyâra tree, which is placed in the marriage booth, twelve times.84 We have a similar custom among most of the menial tribes.
The Kols make the [120]marriage booth of nine bamboo poles, with a bamboo or a branch of the Siddh tree as the central post. As the bridegroom smears the parting of the bride’s hair with red lead, he makes a daub of the same substance on the tree. Much the same custom prevails among all the inferior castes. The worship of trees at marriage prevails in Madras, where some Râjas worship at their marriages the fire and the Vahni tree, a twig of which is used as an arrow at the hunting feast at the Navarâtri or Dasahra.85
On the whole, it seems probable that this custom of pseudo-marriages may be based on various principles. The popular explanation of the custom is, as we have seen, that it is intended to avoid the curse of widowhood, the tree-husband being always alive; the woman, even if her husband die, can never be a widow, nor can the parents be liable to the contempt which, according to popular Hindu belief, awaits those who keep a girl who has reached maturity unmarried.
But when we find the same custom prevailing among races who habitually permit pre-nuptial infidelity, and among whom every marriageable widow is either subjected to the levirate or made over to a stranger, it seems obvious that this cannot be the original explanation of the practice.
Again, according to Mr. Frazer, who has collected numerous examples of the custom, “it is difficult to separate from totemism the custom observed by totem clans in Bengal of marrying the bride and bridegroom to trees before they are married to each other.”86
But the idea that, as we have seen in one of the cases of tree marriages, the tree itself is supposed to die soon after the ceremony, seems to point to the fact that the marriage may be intended to divert to the tree some evil influence, which would otherwise attach to the wedded pair. We have an instance of a somewhat analogous practice from Bombay. “Among the Konkan Kunbis, when a woman is in labour and cannot get a speedy delivery, some gold ornament from her hair is taken to a Rûî plant (the Dhâk—[121]Callotropis gigantea of Northern India), and after digging at its roots, one of the roots is taken out, and the ornament is buried in its stead.
The root is then brought home and put in the hair of the woman in labour. It is supposed that by this means the woman gets speedy delivery. As soon as she is delivered of a child, the root is taken from her hair and brought back to the Rûî plant, and after digging at its root the ornament is taken out and the root placed in its former place.”87 The idea seems to be that the evil influence hindering parturition is thus transferred to the plant. And this may be one explanation of the practice where, as we have seen, a man is married to a bird, or so on, when his former wives have died. The bird acts as the scape-animal, and carries the disease spirit away with it.
Lastly, we have seen instances in which the wedded pair are made to clasp the tree or are tied to it in some special way. There are numerous cases in which women, in order to procure offspring, clasp an idol, like that of Hanumân and one of the other guardian deities. The clasping of the tree at marriage may possibly be a sort of sympathetic magic to bring on the pair the fertility and power of reproduction, of which vegetable life is the well-known symbol. We have the same principle of the wedding of the grove to its well, and every Hindu who goes to the expense of making a tank, does not drink of its waters until he has married the tank to a plantain or some other tree growing on its banks.
Tree and Serpent Worship
In the story of the king and his son, told in the Baitâl Pachîsi, the king supplicates the sacred tree to give him a son. The request is granted, and the king then implores the tree to make his people happy; the result was that poor wretches, hitherto living in the woods, came forth and concerted measures to seize his kingdom. Rather than shed blood, the old king, his queen, and his son retired to a lofty [122]mountain.
There the son finds something white lying under a mimosa tree. On inquiry he learnt that it is a heap of serpents’ bones left there by Garuda, who comes daily to feed on serpents. On hearing this, the king goes towards a temple, but is arrested by the cry of a woman, who says: “My son to-day will be eaten by Garuda.” She and her people were, in fact, serpents in human shape. The king was moved to pity, and as in the famous legend of Buddha and the tigress, he offered to expose himself to Garuda in the room of her son. This is discovered; Garuda releases the king, and at his request re-animates the serpents to whom the bones belong.88
Here we have an example of the combination of tree and serpent worship, and it would be easy to adduce more instances, as has been done by Mr. Ferguson and other writers of his school. But in dealing with this phase of belief much caution is required. As Dr. Tylor observes: “Serpent-worship unfortunately fell years ago into the hands of speculative writers, who mixed it up with occult philosophies, Druidical mysteries, and that portentous nonsense called the Arkite symbolism, till now sober students hear the very name of ophiolatry with a shiver.”89
It is almost needless to say that snake-worship prevails largely in Northern India. The last census showed in the North-Western Provinces over twenty-five thousand Nâga worshippers; one hundred and twenty-three persons recorded themselves as votaries of Gûga, the snake god. There are also a certain number who worship Sânp Deotâ, or the snake godling, and Ahîran, another deity of the same class, who is worshipped in Sultânpur by daily offerings of red lead, water, and rice. Sokha, said to be the ghost of a Brâhman killed by a snake, has nearly fourteen thousand worshippers. In the Panjâb, again, there are over thirty-five thousand special votaries of the snake godlings, of which the great majority worship Gûga. [123]
That the cultus of the snake has been derived from aboriginal beliefs appears tolerably certain. The Hindus of Vedic times looked on the serpent with fear and dislike. It was impersonated as Ahi or Vritra, the snake demon which brings darkness and drives away the kindly rain. The regular snake-worship, as we now find it, was obviously of a later date.
It does not appear difficult to disentangle the ideas on which snake-worship is based. To begin with, the snake is dreaded and revered on account of the mysterious fear which is associated with it, its stealthy habits, its sinuous motion, the cold fixity of its gaze, the protrusion of its forked tongue, the suddenness and deadliness of its attacks. It would be particularly dreaded by women, whose habits of walking barefoot in fields in the early dawn, and groping in dark corners of their huts, render them specially exposed to its malice. The chief basis of the cultus would then be fear, as in the case of the tiger and other beasts of prey.
It would soon be discovered that there were various harmless snakes which would, as house-hunters, come to be identified with the ancestral ghosts as the protectors of houses and goods. The power of controlling and taming the more venomous snakes would then be discovered, and the snake-charmer would come to be regarded as the wisest of mankind, as a wizard, and finally as a priest. We have thus three aspects under which the snake is worshipped by many savage races—as a dreaded enemy, as the protector of home and treasure, as the accompaniment and attribute of wisdom. The village temple would be often in early times a storehouse of treasure, and the snake, respected as its guardian, would finally, as in Kashmîr, be installed there as a god.
Next, we have the early connection between the serpent and the powers of nature, the cloud and the rain, as appears in the familiar Vedic legend of Indra and the Dragon Ahi, and Seshanâga, the great world serpent, which appears in so many of the primitive mythologies.
The serpent would again receive respect as the emblem [124]of life; his shape would, as in many forms of primitive ornament, be associated with the ring, as a symbol of eternity; he is excessively long-lived, and periodically renews his life.
He has, further, as in the Saiva cultus, become associated with phallicism, and with the sexual powers, as in the Adam legend. “The serpent round the neck of Siva denotes the endless cycle of recurring years, and a second necklace of skulls about his person, with numerous other serpents, symbolizes the eternal revolution of ages and the successive dissolution and regeneration of the races of mankind.”90
Lastly, the cultus may have a totemistic basis. As Strabo describes the Ophiogeneis or serpent races of Phrygia actually retaining physical affinity with the snakes to whom they were to be believed to be allied, the Cheros of the eastern districts of the North-Western Provinces and the Bais Râjputs of Oudh profess to be descended from the Great Serpent. Gautama Buddha himself is said to have been of serpent lineage.
But the great serpent race was that of the Nâgas, to whom much ill-considered argument and crude speculation have been devoted. According to one theory they were Skythic emigrants from Central Asia, but whether antecedent or subsequent to the so-called Aryan inroad is disputed. They seem to have been accustomed to use the serpent as a national symbol, and hence became identified with the snake. Some of the myths seem to imply that they suffered persecution at the hands of the Brâhmans, such as the tale of the burning of the Khândava forest, the opening scenes of the Mahâbhârata, and the exploits of the youthful Krishna.
They are, again, associated with Buddhism on monuments like those of Ajanta, and another theory would make them out to be the Dasyus, or aboriginal races of Upper India, who were the first to adopt Buddhism and were exterminated in the Brâhmanical revival. Little, in fact, is known of them, save that they may have been early worshippers [125]of the snake, may have embraced Buddhism, and may have introduced the worship into India from some northern home.91 But Mr. Ferguson’s theory that snake-worship was of purely Turanian origin is, to say the least, very doubtful, and his belief that Saivism is antagonistic to snake-worship, and that Vaishnavism, which he regards as a modification of Buddhism, encourages it, is opposed by the numerous examples of the connection of the serpent with the Lingam.
Seshanâga
Below the seven Pâtâlas, according to the Vishnu Purâna, is Vishnu incarnated as Seshanâga, and known by the name Ananta, or “Endless.” He has a thousand heads adorned with the mystical Swâstika, and in each head a jewel to give light. He is accompanied by Varunî, the goddess of wine (who has nowadays been replaced by Madain, who is venerated by Chamârs in Oudh), supports the world on his head, holds in one hand a pestle and in the other a plough, which, as we shall see later on, connects him with agriculture.
Snake Shrines
In various places snakes are provided with special shrines. Thus, in Garhwâl, Seshanâga is honoured at Pandukeswar; Bhekal Nâg at Ratgâon; Sangal Nâg at Talor; Bânpa Nâg at Margâon, and many others of the same kind.92 In fact, all along the Himâlaya the worship extensively prevails. Kailang Nâg is the chief Himâlayan godling, and as the [126]Vedic Ahi controls the clouds, so he gives fine weather. A victim is killed, and one of his disciples, after drinking the blood, gets into a state of afflatus.
Finally, he gasps out that the sacrifice is accepted, and falls down in a state of exhaustion. The old shrine to the serpent deity at Kângra, known as Baghsu Nâg, has been converted into a Saiva temple under the name of Baghsunâtha, another instance of the adoption of strange deities into orthodox Hinduism.
“The Nâg is specially the guardian of cattle and water-springs. According to the legend, the valleys of Kashmîr and Nepâl were in some remote period the abode of Nâgas. The milk of a cow is usually presented to a Nâg, and goats and sheep are usually sacrificed to him, as to other godlings. So far as I am aware, the only place in the Himâlaya where the living snake is worshipped is at the foot of the Rotung pass.”93 The Nepâl serpent king is Karkotaka, who dwelt in the lake Nâgavâsa, and Siva in the form of Karkotaka Nâga has a temple at Barha Kotra in the Bânda District.
In one of the Nepâl temples is a representation of a Nâg Kanyâ, a serpent maiden or mermaid, sitting on a tortoise.94 This serpent maiden constantly appears in Indian folk-lore. Such is Vijayâvatî, daughter of Gandamâlin, one of the snake kings, who is of surpassing loveliness, rescues and marries the hero. She is represented by the Melusina of European folk-lore, and one of her kindred survived to our own day, to appear as Elsie Venner in one of the finest novels of this generation.95
Curious as it may appear, all the Kashmîr temples were originally surrounded by artificial tanks, constructed in order to propitiate the Nâgas. Ancient stones covered with figures of snakes are occasionally to be seen worked up into the walls of modern buildings. Abul Fazl says that in his time there were nearly seven hundred figures of snake gods existing in Kashmîr. The snake, it is needless to say, is a common emblem in temples all over the country. An [127]ancient temple at Bilâspur in the Central Provinces has, as its only image, that of the cobra.96
Snake-worship appears constantly in history and legend. There is a passage in Plutarch from which it appears to have been the custom to sacrifice an old woman (previously condemned to death for some crime) to the serpent gods by burying her alive on the banks of the Indus. Ktesias also mentions the worship of snakes, and in the Buddhist legends snakes are often referred to as the guardian deities of towns.97
In the folk-tales, Naravâhanadatta worships snakes in a grove sacred to them, and Bhîmabhatta goes to the temple of the chief of the snakes, which he finds full of long wreaths of flowers in form like serpents, and a great lake sacred to Vâsuki, studded with red lotuses, which seemed like clouds of smoke from the fume of snake poison.98
A curious legend tells how Kadrû and Vinatâ were the two wives of the patriarch Kasyapa, the former being the mother of the serpent race, and the other of the birds. A discussion arose between them regarding the colour of the tails of the horses of the sun, Vinatâ insisting that they were white and Kadrû that they were black. It was agreed that whichever of the two was proved to be wrong should serve the other. So Kadrû contrived to fasten one of her black snakes on to the back of one of the horses, and Vinatâ, thinking this was the real tail, accepted defeat; so the snakes rule the birds for ever.
Nahusha, according to one version of his legend, aspired to the love of the queen of India when her husband concealed himself because he had killed a Brâhman. A thousand Rishis bore the litter of the presumptuous sinner through the air, and when in his pride he touched Agastya Muni with his foot, the offended sage cursed him, and he became a serpent. Finally he was pardoned by the intercession of Yudhisthira, threw off his serpent form, and was raised to the heaven of the gods. [128]
Near Jait, in the Mathura District, is a tank with the broken statue of a hooded serpent in it. Once upon a time a Râja married a princess from a distant land, and wished to bring her home with him. She refused to come until he announced his lineage. Her husband told her that she would regret her curiosity, but she persisted. At last he took her to the river and warned her again, but in vain.
Then he told her not to be alarmed at anything she saw, adding that if she did so, she would lose him. Saying this, he began to descend slowly into the water, all the time trying to dissuade her, till the water rose to his neck. Then, after a last attempt to induce her to abandon her curiosity, he dived and reappeared in the form of a Nâga, and raising his head over the water, he said, “This is my lineage. I am a Nâgavansi.” His wife could not suppress an exclamation of grief, on which the Nâga was turned into stone, where he lies to this day. Here we have another instance of the consequences of the violation of the curiosity taboo.99
The town of Nigohan in the Lucknow District is said to have been founded by Raja Nâhuk of the Chandravansi line of kings. Near it is a large tank, in which the legend says that the Râja, transformed into a snake for the sin of killing a Brâhman, was compelled to live. Here at length the Pândava brothers, in their wanderings after their battle with the Kauravas, came, and as they went to draw water, the serpent put to each of them five questions touching the vanity of human wishes and the advantages of absorption from the world. Four out of the five brethren failed to answer and were dragged under the water, but the riddle was solved by the fifth. The spell was thus loosed, and the Râja’s deliverer had come. The Pându put his ring round the body of the serpent, and he was restored to human form. In his gratitude he performed a great sacrifice, and to this day the cultivators digging small wells in the centre of the tank in the dry season, come across the burnt barley, rice, and betel-nuts used in the sacrifices.100 [129]
The old Buddhist traveller thus describes the serpent deity in the temple at Sankisa in the Farrukhâbâd District—“A white-eared dragon is the patron of this body of the priests. It is he who causes fertilizing and seasonable showers of rain to fall within their country, and preserves it from plagues and calamity, and so causes the priesthood to dwell in security. The priests, in gratitude for these favours, have erected a dragon chapel, and within it placed a seat for his accommodation; and, moreover, they make special contributions in the shape of religious offerings to provide the dragon with food.
Towards the end of each season of rest, the dragon incontinently assumes the form of a little serpent, both of whose ears are white. The body of priests, recognizing him, place in the midst for his use a copper vessel full of cream. The serpent then proceeds to come down from the highest part of the alcove, all the while moving, as though he would pay his respects to all those around him. He then suddenly disappears. He makes his appearance once every year.”101
According to Gen. Cunningham, the only spot which can be identified with any certainty at Sankisa is the tank of the Nâga, which still exists to the south-east of the ruins. The name of the Nâga is Kârewar, which appears to mean “the black one,” and that of the tank Kandaiya Tâl. Milk is still offered to him on every day of May, the Nâgpanchamî festival in August, and at any other time when rain is wanted.102
There are many instances of this control of the Nâga over the weather. Thus, in Nepâl, when Râja Gunkamdeva committed incest, the gods in their wrath withheld the rain. Finally the Râja managed to catch the great Nâga Karkotaka, and the other Nâgas came and worshipped him and gave him each a likeness of himself drawn with his own blood, and declared that whenever there was a drought hereafter, plentiful rain would fall as soon as these pictures were worshipped.
So, Gorakhnâtha confined the nine Nâgas, and there was [130]a drought until Matsyendranâtha appeared and released them, on which the clouds gave rain.103
The plan of propitiating the Nâga with an offering of milk is found also in the case of the Durham legend of the Lambton worm and the dragon of Deerhurst in Gloucestershire.104
The sacred dragons of this kind are innumerable. The Buddhist cave at Pabhosa in the Allahâbâd District was the home of a monster of this class, who was subdued by Buddha.105 That in the dragon tank at Râmagrâma used to assume the form of a Brâhman.106 Dr. Buchanan tells of another at Bhâgalpur. “They showed me a hole in a rock opening into a hollow space close by the path leading up to their village.
They said that this hole was the abode of a very large serpent, which they considered a kind of god. In cold weather they never saw it, but in the hot season it was constantly observed lying in the hollow before its den. The people pass by it without apprehension, thinking it understands their language, and would on no account injure one of them, should even a child or a drunken person fall on it.”107
But all such snakes are not friendly. In the Hitopadesa, the faithful mungoose takes the place in the legend of Bethgelert of the hound and kills the deadly snake. Some reference to this famous folk-tale will be made in another connection. Aghâsura, “the evil demon,” the king of the serpents, tried to devour the divine infant Krishna. When he and his foster-father Nanda were asleep together, a huge boa-constrictor laid hold of Nanda by the toe, and would speedily have devoured him, but Krishna, hearing his cries, ran to his side and lightly set his foot on the monster’s head.
At the very touch the serpent was transformed, and assumed the figure of a lovely youth; “for years ago a Ganymede of Heaven’s Court, by name Sudarsana, in pride of beauty and exalted birth, had vexed the holy sage Angiras when in deep [131]contemplation, by dancing backwards and forwards before him, and by his curses had been metamorphosed into a snake, in that vile shape to expiate his offence, until the advent of Krishna.”108 We have already spoken of another famous Mathura snake, the Nâga of Jait, whose tail is supposed to reach underground to Brindaban, seven miles away.109 The curious dragon cave at Kausambhi at Allahâbâd was one of the last notable discoveries of the Archæological Survey.110
The Snake Gods
Besides the sacred Nâgas there are the regular snake gods. The serpent deity of Benares is Nâgîswar, who is represented by a serpent twining round the chief idol, and like his kindred rules the weather. The Nâg Kuân, or dragon well, is one of the oldest shrines in the city.111 Târâ is the snake goddess of the Kols, and the Khândhs call her Târâ Penu, the heavenly “star snake.” Vâsuki, the “abider,” now known as Bâsuk Nâg, has many shrines, and in all of them, as at Dâraganj, near Allahâbâd, described by Sir Monier-Williams,112 the priest in charge is always a man of low caste, a fact pointing to the non-Aryan character of the worship. He forms one of the triad of the snake gods which rule the snakes of earth and hell, his fellows being Sesha and Takshaka, “he who cuts off.” Vâsuki often appears in the folk-tales. We find him resisting Garuda, the destroyer of his subjects.
His brother’s son Kirtisena is, according to one legend, a Brâhman, and weds a mortal maiden by the Gandharva form; his eldest brother Vasunemi presents a benevolent Savara with a magic lute; Vâsuki himself marries the princess Yasodharâ, and their son is Priyadarsana.
Vâsuki has a thousand ears. Once he served the gods by becoming the rope which the mount Mandara was [132]whirled round, and the sea was churned and produced Srî or Lakshmî, goddess of wealth.113 The foot of the celebrated iron pillar at Delhi was driven so deep in order that it might rest on the head of Vâsuki. A Brâhman told the king that this would secure the stability of his kingdom. The Râja doubted this, and had the pillar dug up, when its base was found wet with the blood of the serpent king. Owing to the incredulity of the Râja it could never again be firmly fixed, and his want of faith led to the ultimate downfall of his dynasty. The same tale has reached the Himâlaya, and is told of the foundation of Almora.114
The Sinhas
Next come the Sinhas, or snake godlings of the Panjâb and the western parts of the North-Western Provinces. “They are males, and though they cause fever they are not very malevolent, often taking away pain. They have got great power over milch cattle, and the milk of the eleventh day after calving is sacred to them, and libations of milk (as in the case of the Sankisa dragon) are always acceptable.
They are generally distinguished by some colour, the most commonly worshipped being Kâlî, ‘the black one,’ Hari, ‘green,’ Bhûra, ‘grey,’ Sinh. But the diviner will often declare a fever to be caused by some Sinh no one has ever heard of before, but to whom a shrine must be built. And so they multiply in a most perplexing manner. Dead men also have a way of becoming snakes—a fact which is revealed in a dream, when again a shrine must be built. If a peasant sees a snake he will salute it, and if it bite him, he or his heirs, as the case may be, will build a shrine on the spot to prevent the recurrence of such an occurrence.
They are the servants of Vâsuki Nâga, King of Pâtâla, or Tartarus, and their worship is certainly connected with that of the Pitris or ancestors, though it is difficult to see exactly in what the connection lies.”115 [133]
Connection of Snakes with Ancestor-worship
The connection is thus explained by Mr. Spencer: “The other self of the dead relative is supposed to come back occasionally to the old house; how else is it possible of the survivors sleeping there to see him in their dreams? Here are creatures which commonly, unlike wild animals, come into houses; come in, too, secretly at night.
The implication is clear. That snakes which specially do this are the returned dead, is inferred by people in Asia, Africa, and America; the haunting of houses being the common trait of the kind of snakes reverenced and worshipped.”116 The benevolent household snake, which in the folk-tales assists the hero and protects the family of which he is the guardian, thus represents the soul of some deceased ancestor which has taken up its residence there. That the dead do appear as snakes is familiar in European folk-lore.
Thus, for instance, the pious Æneas saw his father Anchises in the snake which crept from his tomb. We have already come across the same idea in the case of the Satî. It was an old European idea that this household snake, if not conciliated, and when dead buried under the threshold, a sacred place, prevented conception.117
Deified Snake Heroes
We have already mentioned the regular snake godling Gûga. With him are often worshipped his father Jaur or Jewar Sinh, and Arjan and Sarjan, his twin half-brothers.118
Pîpa, the Brâhman, is another deity of the same class in Râjputâna. He was in the habit of giving milk to a serpent whose retreat was on the banks of the Sampu, or Snake Lake. The serpent used in return to present him daily with two pieces of gold. Being obliged to go away on business, he gave instructions to his son to continue the [134]offering; but the youth, deeming it a good opportunity of becoming master of the treasure, took a stick with him, and when the serpent came forth for his expected food, he struck him violently. But the snake managed to retreat into his hole.
On his return, the young Brâhman related his adventures to his mother. She was horrified at the account, and forthwith made arrangements for sending her son away out of danger. But in the morning when she went to call him she found to her horror that her son was dead, and a huge snake lay coiled up beside his body. Pîpa on his return was inconsolable, but, stifling his thoughts of revenge, he propitiated the monster with copious libations of milk.
The serpent was appeased, and revealed to Pîpa the treasures which he guarded, commanding him to erect a monument which should transmit the knowledge of the event to future ages. Hence Pîpa has become a sort of snake godling, and the town of Pîpar and the Sampu Lake still by their names commemorate the legend.119
This famous tale, which was originally founded on a story in the Panchatantra, has come into European folk-lore through the Gesta Romanorum, and forms an excellent example of a genuine Indian folk-tale which has been naturalized in Western lands.120 The incident of the animals which produce gold is common both in European and Indian folk-lore. Even Marabhuti in the tale of Somadeva is able to spit gold, and every one knows Grimm’s pretty tale of the “Three little men in the wood,” in which a piece of gold drops from the mouth of the good girl every time she speaks.
Snake Treasure Guardians
Snakes throughout folk-lore are the guardians of treasure.121 The griffins of Scythia guarded the treasures coveted by the [135]Arimaspians; the dragon watched the golden apples of the Hesperides; in the Nibelungenlied the dragon Fafnir keeps guard over a vast treasure of gold, which Sigurd seizes after he has killed the monster. It is a common Indian belief that when a very rich man dies without an heir, he cannot take away his thoughts from his treasure, and returns to guard it in the form of a monstrous serpent.
But after a time he becomes tired of this serpent life, and either in a dream, or assuming the human voice, he asks the persons living near the treasure to take it and offer him one of their dearest relatives in return.
When some avaricious person complies with the serpent’s wishes, he gets possession of the wealth, and the serpent then enters into some other state of existence. Instances of treasure speaking are not uncommon. Some time ago two old ladies, whose houses were divided by a wall, formally applied to me to have the wall excavated in the presence of respectable witnesses, because a treasure-guarding snake was often heard speaking from inside the wall, and begging some one to take over the wealth which was in his charge.
Snake charmers are supposed to have the power of recognizing these serpent treasure guardians, follow them stealthily to their holes, and ask them to point out the deposit. This they will do in consideration of the offering of a drop of blood from the little finger of a first-born son,122 an obvious survival of human sacrifice, which is constantly found connected with the serpent cultus.
Various suggestions have been made to account for the idea of snakes guarding treasure. By one theory there is some connection between the snake and primitive metallurgy; by another, that the snake may have been the totem of the early jewellers; by a third, that the jewelled head of the snake is at the bottom of the matter.123 But it seems more probable that the idea is based on the conception of the snake as a haunter of houses and temples, and the divine protector of the inmates and their wealth. [136]
Indian folk-lore is full of such stories. In the Dakkhin tale, Seventee Bâî gets possession of the enormous diamond which the cobra used to take about in his mouth; and in the Bengal story Faqîr Chand obtains the serpent’s crest-jewel.124 The same idea appears in the Arabian Nights. Mr. Forbes tells rather a ghastly tale on this subject. He personally investigated a mysterious chamber supposed to contain treasure.
Viewed from above it was a gloomy dungeon of great depth. He desired his men to enter it, but they positively refused, alleging that “wherever money was concealed, there existed one of the Genii in the mortal form of a snake to guard it.” He at last prevailed on them to descend by means of ropes.
They had not been at the bottom many seconds, when they called out vehemently that they were encircled by a large snake. Finally he observed something like billets of wood, or rather more resembling a ship’s cable coiled up in a dark hole. Then he saw the monster raise his head over an immense length of body, coiled in volumes on the ground. A large snake was subsequently destroyed by fire, but no treasure was found, “the owner having doubtless already removed it.”125
Powers of Snakes in Folk-lore
Manifold are the powers of snakes in folk-lore. He can strike people dead with his look from a distance, like the “death-darting eye of cockatrice” in “Romeo and Juliet.” He has the power of spitting fire from his mouth, which destroys his enemies and consumes forests. His saliva is venomous, and there are many stories of snakes spitting venom into food. In one of the versions of Bethgelert, the prince, but for his guardian bird, would have drunk as water the venom of the black snakes which drips from a tree.
In the legends of Râja Rasâlu, Gûga, and Newal Dâî, the snake has power to kill and restore to life; it has the faculty of [137]metamorphosis and flying through the air. In one of the Kashmîr tales, the Brâhman, wishing to get rid of his wife, gives her a snake in a bag; but when she opens it, it turns into a beautiful little boy.126 We have, again, the world-wide story of the snake rescued by the traveller, which rewards the service rendered to him by biting his benefactor.
When Indra carried off the nectar, the snakes licked the bed of Kusa grass on which the vessel lay. The sharp edges of the grass cut them as they licked, so they have had double tongues ever since.127 Every Indian rustic believes in the Domunha or snake with a mouth at both ends, which is, as might have been expected, most virulent.
There are snake women, like Lamia or Vasudeva, the mystic serpent, who go about at night, and by day resume their hateful form. The humanity of the serpent race comes out clearly in the legend of Safîdon, which attributes the leprosy still found in the Panjâb to the sacrilegious acts of Vâsuki, the king of the serpents.128
Modern Snake-worship
Some instances may be given of the form assumed by the worship of the snake in modern times.
The great snake festival is the Nâgpanchamî, or “Dragon’s fifth,” held on the fifth day of the month of Bhâdon. In the Hills it is called the Rikhî or Birurî Panchamî. Rikheswara has now become a title of Siva as lord of the Nâgas, a form in which he is represented as surrounded by serpents and crowned with the chaplet of hooded snakes. On the day of the feast the people paint figures of serpents and birds on the walls of their houses, and seven days before the festival they steep a mixture of wheat, gram, and pulse in water. On the morning of the feast they take a wisp of grass, tie it up in the form of a snake, dip it in the water in which the gram has [138]been steeped, and offer it with money and sweetmeats to the serpents.129
In Udaypur on this day they strew particular plants about the thresholds of houses to prevent the entrance of venomous reptiles, and in Nepâl the day is observed as the anniversary of a great struggle between a famous Nâga and Garuda, the foe of the serpent race.130 In the eastern districts of the North-West Provinces on this day milk and dried rice are poured into a snake’s hole; while doing this they call out “Snake! snake!”
The feeding of snakes on this holiday is done in much the same way in Bombay.131 After the Diwâlî in Kângra, a festival is held to bid good-bye to the snakes, at which an image of the Nâga made of cowdung is worshipped. If a snake be seen after this it is called “ungrateful,” and immediately killed.132
In the North-Western Provinces the usual custom is for the head of the family to bathe on the morning of the feast, to paint on the wall of his sleeping-room two rude representations of serpents, and to make offerings to Brâhmans. On this day people pray to what Dr. Buchanan calls “the chief eight dragons of the pit,”133 girls throw some playthings into the water, and labourers take a holiday and worship the tools of their craft.
In Behâr during the month of Sâwan (August) crowds of women calling themselves Nâgin, or “wives of the snake,” go about begging for two and a half days, during which period they neither sleep under a roof nor eat salt. Half the proceeds of the begging are given to Brâhmans, and the other half invested in salt and sweetmeats, which are eaten by all the people of the village.134
In Garhwâl, the ground is freely smeared with cowdung and mud, and figures of five, seven, or nine serpents are [139]rudely drawn with sandal-wood powder or tumeric; rice, beans, or peas are parched; lamps are lighted and waved before them; incense is burnt and food and fruit offered. These observances take place both morning and evening, and the night is spent in listening to stories in praises of the Nâga.135
In parts of the North-Western Provinces, with the usual Nâgpanchamî, is performed what is known as the Guruî festival. On that day offerings are made by women to the Dragon godling Nâg Deotâ. Girls let dolls float in the water of some convenient river or tank, and the village lads beat the dolls with long switches specially cut for the purpose.
The legend of this rite is thus told. When Râja Janamejâya held the Sarpa Sattra or snake rite in order to destroy Takshaka, the king of the serpents, all the snakes were captured by spells and killed. But Takshaka escaped and was found to have taken refuge with Indra, on whose throne he seated himself in the shape of a mosquito.
Indra was ordered to produce the fugitive, and begged the life of Takshaka, which was granted on condition that he was banished from the land. So the snake king took the shape of a Brâhman lad and retired to the Caucasus. There he settled and married, but he foolishly told the story to his wife, and she being unable to keep the secret, it finally reached the ears of Janamejâya, who sentenced him to death.
Takshaka then retorted by ordering Janamejâya to cause everyone in his dominions to kill his wife as a revenge for his own wife’s treachery. Janamejâya was unwilling to issue such a cruel order, so he consulted the Brâhmans. Finally, it was proclaimed that on the Nâgpanchamî, every woman, to prove her devotion to her husband, should make a doll and offer it up as a vicarious sacrifice for herself. It would seem that the rite is the survival of some rite of human sacrifice in connection with snake-worship.
The Agarwâla Banyas, who say that they are descended from Râja Vâsuki, have a special rite in honour of Astika Muni, who is said to have been the instructor of Vâsuki. [140]They bathe and make marks representing the snake on the walls of the house, which they worship, feed Brâhmans, and do the Ârtî or lamp rite. Each woman takes home with her some of the sesamum offered to the snake, which they sprinkle with the recitation of a spell in their houses as a means of driving away venomous snakes.
Cure of Snake-bite
In Hoshangâbâd there were once two brothers, Râjawa and Soral; the ghost of the former cures snake-bite, and that of the latter cattle murrain. The moment a man is bitten, he must tie a string or a strip of his dress and fasten it round his neck, crying, “Mercy! O God Râjawa!” To call on Ghori Bâdshâh, the Delhi Emperor, who conquered the country, or Râmjî Dâs Bâba will do as well. At the same time he makes a vow to give so much to the god if he recovers.
When he gets home they use various tests to ascertain if the poison is in him still. They take him in and out over the threshold, and light a lamp before him, acts which are supposed to have the effect of developing latent poison. They then give him salt and leaves of the bitter Nîm tree. If he can take them he is safe. These are all, as we have already seen, scarers of evil spirits, in this case the snake demon. If he cannot take them, the whole village goes out and cries to Râjawa Deo until he recovers. No one (Sir C. A. Elliott’s informant told him) had been ever known to die of a snake-bite after this treatment.
But the god has no power over the dreaded Biscobra, which takes its name from the Hindi Bishkhâpra, Sanskrit Vishakharpara, or “poison-headed,” which is said to be so deadly that its very breath is venomous, one of the numerous popular delusions out of which it is hopeless to argue the rustic. The bitten man must not untie the string round his neck till the day when he goes to offer what he vows, which should be, at latest, on the next Dasahra; but if he attempts to cheat the god by offering ever so little less than he promised, he will die on the spot in agonies.136 [141]
All through Upper India the stock remedy for snake-bite is the exorcism of the Ojha or sorcerer, a performance known as Jhâr Phûnk, consisting of a series of passes, massage, and incantations, which are supposed to disperse the venom. Many, too, have faith in the so-called “Snake stone,” which seems to be usually a piece of bone soaked in blood and repeatedly baked.
This is supposed to have absorbent properties and to draw the venom out of the wound. It probably works by faith, and is as effective as the Achates or Agate of which Pliny writes: “People are persuaded that it availeth much against the venomous spiders and scorpions, which property I could very well believe to be in the Sicilian Agate, for that so soon as serpents come within the air and breath of the said province of Sicily, as venomous as they be otherwise, they die thereupon.”137
The Snake in Folk-lore
The references to the snake in folk-lore and popular belief are so numerous that only a few examples can be given. The Dhâman (Ptyas mucosus), a quite harmless snake, is said in Bombay to give a fatal bite on Sundays, and to kill cattle by crawling under them, or putting its tail up their nostrils. Its shadow is also considered malignant. It is believed to suck the milk of cattle, and that if a buffalo is looked on by it, it immediately dies. Of the Ghonas snake it is believed that it bites only at night, and at whatever hour of the night the victim is bitten, he dies just before daybreak.138
About these snake stones some curious tales are told. By one account, when a goat kills a snake, it eats it and then ruminates, after which it spits out a bead, which, when applied to a snake-bite, absorbs the poison and swells. If it be put into milk, and squeezed, the poison drips out of it like blood, and the bitten person is cured.
If it be not put in milk it will burst in pieces. By another account, in the pouch-like appendages of the older Adjutant birds (Leptoptilos [142]Argala) the fang of a snake is sometimes found. This, if rubbed over the place where a poisonous snake has bitten a man, is supposed to prevent the venom spreading to the vital parts of the body. Others say that it is found within the head of the Adjutant, and that it is only necessary to rub it to the bitten place and put it into milk, when it becomes black through the venom.
What was known as the Ovum Anguinum of the Britons is said to have been a bead which assists children to cut their teeth and cures the chincough and the ague. Mr. Campbell139 says he once possessed one of these “snake’s eggs,” which was a blue and white glass bead and supposed to be a charm used by the women of the prehistoric races.
A very common incident in the folk-tales is that the heroine is beset by snakes which come out of her nose or mouth at night and kill her newly-wedded husband, as the evil spirit kills the husband of Sara in the marriage chamber, until the hero lies awake and succeeds in destroying them.
Another power snakes possess is that of identifying the rightful heirs of kingdoms, and, as in the case of Drona, who found the Ahîr Adirâja sleeping in the shade of the hood of a cobra, announce that he is born to rule.140 So in the mythology the Nâga king Machalinda spreads his hood over the Buddha to protect him from the rain and flies.141 Many of these Nâgas indeed are friendly, as in the case of the Banjâra, who, in order to avoid octroi duty, declared his valuable goods to be Glauber salts, and Glauber salts they became until they were restored to their original condition by the intercession of the kindly Nâga of the Gundwa tank.142 In one of Somadeva’s tales the friendly snake clings round the Râja till he promises to release the Bodhisattwa out of prison.
Snakes and Euphemism
Snakes should, of course, be addressed euphemistically as “Maternal uncle,” or “Rope,” and if a snake bites you, you [143]should never mention its name, but say, “A rope has touched me.” The Mirzapur Kharwârs tell of a man who once came on a Nâgin laying her eggs. When she saw him she fell at his feet and asked him to throw the eggs in a water-hole. So he took up the eggs on a bamboo sieve and went with her to the brink.
The Nâgin plunged in and said, “Do not be afraid! Come on!” He followed her, the waters dried up, and he came to the palace of the Nâg, who entertained him royally, and offered to give him anything he wished. The boor asked only for a pan, pot, and spoon, which the Nâga gave him, and he came home to find his relations doing the death ceremonies in his honour, believing he had been carried off by a tiger.
He said nothing of his adventures till the day of his death, when he told the story. So the Nâga in other tales of the same class blesses and rewards the lucky man who has delivered the young snake from his persecutors who caught him while in the upper air. So in the Arabian Nights, the relations of Jullanar of the sea show their gratitude to the king who is kind to her on earth.
On the basis of the same idea which has been already referred to in the case of the Churel, it is believed that if the shadow of a pregnant woman fall on a snake it becomes blind.143
The Snake Jewel
The snake, like the “toad ugly and venomous,” wears on his head the Mani or precious jewel, which is a stock subject in Indian folk-tales. Thus, in one of Somadeva’s stories, “when Nala heard this, he looked round, and beheld a snake coiled up near the fire, having his head encircled with the rays of the jewels of his crest.”144
It is sometimes metamorphosed into a beautiful youth; it equals the treasure of seven kings; it can be hidden or secured only by cowdung or horsedung being thrown over it; and if it is acquired the serpent dies. It lights the hero on his [144]way to the palace under the sea where is the silver jewelled tree; or it is possessed by the sleeping beauty, who cannot return to her home beneath the waters, and loses the hero until it is recovered.
Its presence acts as an amulet against evil, and secures the attainment of every wish. It protects the owner from drowning, the waters parting on each side of him, and allowing him to pass over rivers dry-shod.145
The Rainbow and the Snake
So the rainbow is connected with the snake, being the fume of a gigantic serpent blown up from underground. In Persia it was called the “celestial serpent.” We have already seen that the Milky Way is regarded as the path of the Nâgas in the sky. It is possibly under the influence of the association of the snake, a treasure guardian, that the English children run to find where the rainbow meets the earth, and expect to find a crock of gold buried at its base.146
The Household Snake
The belief in the influence of the guardian domestic or national snake is universal. When the Persians invaded Athens the people would not leave the city till they learned that the guardian snake had refused its food and abandoned the citadel. A snake at Lanuvium and at Epirus resided in a grove and was waited on by a virgin priestess, who entered naked and fed it once a year, when by its acceptance or refusal of the offering, the prospects of the harvest were ascertained.
The Teutons and Celts had also their sacred guardian snake.
In the Panjâb Hills, every householder keeps an image of the Nâga or harmless snake, as contrasted with the Sânp, which is venomous. This snake is put in charge of the householder’s homestead, and is held responsible that no cobra or dangerous serpent enters it. It is supposed to have [145]the power of driving all cobras out of the place. Should rain drive the house snake out of his hole, he is worshipped. No image of a cobra or other venomous snake is ever made for purposes of worship.
Ant-hills are believed to be the homes of snakes, and there the people offer sugar, rice, and millet for forty days.147 These correspond to the benevolent domestic snakes, of whom Aubrey says that “the Bramens have them in great veneration; they keep their corne. I think it is Tavernier mentions it.”148
They are, in fact, as we have already seen, the representatives of the benevolent ancestral ghosts. Hence the deep-rooted prejudice against killing the snake, which is both guardian and god. “If,” says Mr. Lang,149 “the serpent were the deity of an earlier race, we could understand the prejudice against killing it, as shown in the Apollo legend.” The evidence accumulated in this chapter will perhaps go some way to settle this question, as far as India is concerned. [146]
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1 “Principles of Sociology,” i. 359.
2 “Primitive Culture,” ii. 221, 89.
3 “Golden Bough,” i. 39.
4 Dalton, “Descriptive Ethnology,” 56, 40, 43, 283; Hislop, “Papers,” 10.
5 “Brihatsanhita,” Rajendra Lâla Mitra, “Indo-Aryans,” i. 245.
6 Campbell, “Notes,” 225.
7 Forlong, “Rivers of Life;” Westropp, “Primitive Symbolism.”
8 Groome, “Encyclopædia Britannica,” s.v. “Gypsies.”
9 “Calcutta Review,” xxvi. 512.
10 Tawney, “Katha Sarit Sâgara,” i. 174; ii. 181, 592, 286.
11 Ibid., ii. 270.
12 “North Indian Notes and Queries,” iii. 123; Grimm, “Household Tales,” ii. 429.
13 Ibid., ii. 142.
14 Grimm, “Household Tales,” ii. 596.
15 Temple, “Wide-awake Stories,” 413.
16 Knowles, “Folk-tales,” 184; Grimm, loc. cit., ii. 428.
17 Tawney, “Katha Sarit Sâgara,” i. 153; ii. 387, 460.
18 Dyer, “Popular Customs,” 467.
19 Führer, “Monumental Antiquities,” 304; “North Indian Notes and Queries,” i. 4, 37; “Bombay Gazetteer,” ii. 355.
20 “Golden Bough,” i. 61.
21 “North Indian Notes and Queries,” ii. 112.
22 Dalton, “Descriptive Ethnology,” 129, 132, 141, 186, 188.
23 Hislop, “Papers,” 20.
24 “Berâr Gazetteer,” 29, 31.
25 Growse, “Mathura,” 70, 76 sqq., 83, 420, 470, 458.
26 “Himâlayan Gazetteer,” iii. 47.
27 Moorcroft, “Travels,” i. 211.
28 “North Indian Notes and Queries,” iii. 16.
29 Conway, “Demonology,” i. 315 sq.; Farrer, “Primitive Manners,” 309; Sir W. Scott, “Letters on Demonology,” 79; Gregor, “Folk-lore of North-East Scotland,” 116, 179; Henderson, “Folk-lore of the Northern Counties,” 278.
30 “Oudh Gazetteer,” i. 566; Führer, “Monumental Antiquities,” 304. See instances collected by Hartland, “Legend of Perseus,” ii. 35 sqq.
31 Henderson, loc. cit., 273.
32 Campbell, “Notes,” 221 sq.
33 “Calcutta Review,” lxix. 364 sq.
34 Campbell, “Notes,” 237.
35 Haug, “Aitareya Brâhmanam,” ii. 486 sq.
36 Cunningham, “Bhilsa Topes,” 24; “Archæological Reports,” i. 5 sq.; Ferguson, “Eastern Architecture,” 69; Führer, “Monumental Antiquities,” 127.
37 “Himâlayan Gazetteer,” ii. 783.
38 Campbell, “Notes,” 238.
39 Tod, “Annals,” i. 611.
40 See instances collected by Wake, “Serpent Worship,” 18.
41 Tawney, “Katha Sarit Sâgara,” ii. 293.
42 Ibbetson, “Panjâb Ethnography,” 118; “Panjâb Notes and Queries,” ii. 55; O’Brien, “Multâni Glossary,” 82.
43 “Panjâb Notes and Queries,” ii. 74; Elliot, “Supplementary Glossary,” 26.
44 Dalton, “Descriptive Ethnology,” 148, 281, 283; Rousselet, “India and its Native Princes,” 369 sq.
45 Tawney, “Katha Sarit Sâgara,” i. 162.
46 Sleeman, “Rambles and Recollections,” ii. 18; Tylor, “Primitive Culture,” ii. 225.
47 “Quarterly Review,” cxiv. 226; “Folk-lore,” iii. 88.
48 Hunt, “Popular Romances,” 420.
49 Temple, “Legends of the Panjâb,” i. 473.
50 Campbell, “Notes,” 234.
51 Mullaly, “Notes on Madras Criminal Tribes,” 20.
52 “Panjâb Notes and Queries,” iii. 38.
53 i. 287.
54 Ward, “Hindus,” ii. 13, quoted by Campbell, “Notes,” 229.
55 Lâl Bihâri Dê, “Folk-tales,” 280.
56 Campbell, loc. cit., 229.
57 “North Indian Notes and Queries,” i. 207.
58 Dalton, “Descriptive Ethnology,” 189.
59 “Sirsa Settlement Report,” 154.
60 Wilson, “Works,” iii. 68.
61 Campbell, “Notes,” 248.
62 Rhys, “Lectures,” 359.
63 Kelly, “Curiosities,” 159; Conway, “Demonology,” i. 126; Gubernatis, “Zoological Mythology,” i. 225; Dyer, “Popular Customs,” 274; Brand, “Observations,” 616.
64 Tawney, “Katha Sarit Sâgara,” i. 439.
65 Campbell, “Santâl Folk-tales,” 54.
66 Campbell, “Notes,” 239.
67 Dalton, “Descriptive Ethnology,” 109, 220, 234.
68 Campbell, loc. cit., 232.
69 Ibbetson, “Panjâb Ethnography,” 119.
70 “Panjâb Notes and Queries,” ii. 42; “North Indian Notes and Queries,” ii. 27.
71 “Eastern India,” iii. 555.
72 “North Indian Notes and Queries,” ii. 151 sq.
73 “Notes,” 461.
74 “Bombay Gazetteer,” vii. 61.
75 Risley, “Tribes and Castes,” ii. 201.
76 Dalton, “Descriptive Ethnology,” 194.
77 Ibid., 319.
78 Atkinson, “Himâlayan Gazetteer,” ii. 912.
79 Wright, “History of Nepâl,” 33.
80 “Settlement Report,” 38.
81 “Archæological Reports,” x. 177.
82 “North Indian Notes and Queries,” i. 15.
83 “Settlement Report,” 167.
84 “Bombay Gazetteer,” iii. 221.
85 Oppert, “Original Inhabitants,” 73.
86 “Totemism,” 33 sqq.
87 Campbell, “Notes,” 250.
88 Manning, “Ancient India,” ii. 330 sq.; Tawney, “Katha Sarit Sâgara,” i. 185.
89 “Primitive Culture,” ii. 239.
90 Monier-Williams, “Brâhmanism and Hinduism,” 319 sqq.
91 Wheeler, “History of India,” i. 148; “Gazetteer Central Provinces,” lxiii.; lxxii.; Campbell, “Notes,” 269; Ferguson, “Tree and Serpent Worship,” Appendix D; Elliot, “Supplementary Glossary,” s.v. “Gaur Taga”; Tod, “Annals,” i. 38; Atkinson, “Himâlayan Gazetteer,” ii. 280 sqq., 297; Temple, “Legends of the Panjâb,” i. 414 sq.
92 Bhekal Nâg is perhaps the Sanskrit bheka, “frog.” It has been suggested that the gypsy Beng or Devil is connected with Bheka, and thus allied to serpent-worship (Groome, “Encyclopædia Britannica,” Art. “Gypsies”). Sir G. Cox (“Introduction,” 87, note) makes out Bheki, or “the squatting frog,” to be an old name for the sun. For the Himâlayan snake shrines see Atkinson, loc. cit., ii. 374 sq.
93 Oldham, “Contemporary Review,” April, 1885.
94 Oldfield, “Sketches,” ii. 204; Wright, “History,” 85.
95 Tawney, “Katha Sarit Sâgara,” ii. 173, 544.
96 “Calcutta Review,” li. 304 sq.; liv. 25 sq.; Ferguson, “Eastern Architecture,” 289; “Central Provinces Gazetteer,” 86.
97 Tawney, loc. cit. i. 577.
98 Ibid., i. 312; ii. 225.
99 “Archæological Reports,” vii. 4.
100 “Settlement Report,” 121.
101 Beal, “Travels of Fah Hian,” 67 sq.
102 “Archæological Reports,” i. 274.
103 Wright, “History of Nepâl,” 85, 141.
104 Henderson, “Folk-lore of the Northern Counties,” 289; “Gloucestershire Folk-lore,” 23.
105 Führer, “Monumental Antiquities,” 144.
106 Beal, loc. cit., 90.
107 “Eastern India,” ii. 149.
108 Growse, “Mathura,” 55, 58.
109 Ibid., 71.
110 “Reports,” xxi. 2, “Academy,” 23rd April, 1887.
111 Sherring, “Sacred City,” 75, 87 sqq.; Führer, “Monumental Antiquities,” 211. For weather snakes see Tawney, “Katha Sarit Sâgara,” i. 438.
112 “Brâhmanism and Hinduism,” 323.
113 Tawney, loc. cit., i. 32, 55, 538; ii. 568.
114 Gangadatta, “Folk-lore of Kumaun,” Introduction, vii.
115 Ibbetson, “Panjâb Ethnography,” 114; “Legends of the Panjâb,” i. 426.
116 “Principles of Sociology,” i. 345; Gubernatis, “Zoological Mythology,” ii. 407 sq.; Wake, “Serpent-worship,” 105; Tylor, “Primitive Culture,” ii. 240.
117 Leland, “Etruscan Roman Remains,” 132.
118 “Panjâb Notes and Queries,” i. 2.
119 Tod, “Annals,” i. 777 sqq.
120 Clouston, “Popular Tales,” i. 127; Grimm, “Household Tales,” ii. 405; Tawney, “Katha Sarit Sâgara,” ii. 454; Jacobs, “English Fairy Tales,” 207, 251.
121 Gubernatis, “Zoological Mythology,” ii. 407; Clouston, loc. cit., i. 126.
122 “Panjâb Notes and Queries,” ii. 91.
123 Conway, “Demonology,” i. 353 sq.
124 Miss Frere, “Old Deccan Tales,” 33; Lâl Bihâri Dê, “Folk-tales,” 19.
125 “Oriental Memoirs,” ii. 19, 385.
126 Knowles, “Folk-tales,” 492.
127 Tawney, “Katha Sarit Sâgara,” i. 182.
128 Tawney, loc. cit., ii. 99; Temple, “Legends of the Panjâb,” i. Introduction, xv.; “Wideawake Stories,” 193, 331.
129 Atkinson, “Himâlayan Gazetteer,” ii. 851.
130 Tod, “Annals,” i. 614; Wright, “History,” 37.
131 Rousselet, “India and its Native Princes,” 28.
132 “Panjâb Notes and Queries,” iii. 75.
133 “Eastern India,” ii. 481.
134 Grierson, “Bihâr Peasant Life,” 405; “Maithili Chrestomathy,” 23 sqq., where examples of the songs are given; “Panjâb Notes and Queries,” iii. 38.
135 Atkinson, “Himâlayan Gazetteer,” ii. 836.
136 “Settlement Report,” 120 sq.
137 “Natural History,” xxxvii. 10.
138 “Gazetteer,” xi. 36.
139 “Popular Tales,” ii. 385.
140 Führer, “Monumental Antiquities,” 28.
141 Hardy, “Manual of Buddhism,” 146.
142 “Oudh Gazetteer,” i. 597.
143 “Panjâb Notes and Queries,” i. 15.
144 Tawney, “Katha Sarit Sâgara,” i. 564; ii. 315.
145 Temple, “Wideawake Stories,” 304, 424; “Panjâb Notes and Queries,” i. 15, 76.
146 Sleeman, “Rambles,” i. 42; Conway, “Demonology,” i. 354.
147 “Panjâb Notes and Queries,” iii. 92, 59.
148 “Remaines,” 39. He perhaps refers to Tavernier, “Travels,” Ball’s Edition), i. 42; ii. 249.
149 “Custom and Myth,” ii. 197.
