Story of the Bráhman and the Piśácha.
Long ago there was a Bráhman dwelling on a royal grant, which was called Yajnasthala. He once upon a time, being poor, went to the forest to bring home wood. There, a piece of wood being cleft with the axe, fell, as chance would have it, upon his leg, and piercing it, entered deep into it. And as the blood flowed from him, he fainted, and he was beheld in that condition by a man who recognised him, and taking him up carried him home. There his distracted wife washed off the blood, and consoling him, placed a plaster upon the wound. And then his wound, though tended day by day, not only did not heal, but formed an ulcer. Then the man, afflicted with his ulcerated wound, poverty-stricken, and at the point of death, was thus advised in secret by a Bráhman friend, who came to him; “A friend of mine, named Yajnadatta, was long very poor, but he gained the aid of a Piśácha by a charm, and so, having obtained wealth, lived in happiness. And he told me that charm, so do you gain, my friend, by means of it, the aid of a Piśácha; he will heal your wound.” Having said this, he told him the form of words and described to him the ceremony as follows: “Rise up in the last watch of the night, and with dishevelled hair and naked, and without rinsing your mouth, take two handfuls of rice as large as you can grasp with your two hands, and muttering the form of words go to a place where four roads meet, and there place the two handfuls of rice, and return in silence without looking behind you. Do so always until that Piśácha appears, and himself says to you, ‘I will put an end to your ailment.’ Then receive his aid gladly, and he will remove your complaint.”
When his friend had said this to him, the Bráhman did as he had been directed. Then the Piśácha, being conciliated, brought heavenly herbs from a lofty peak of the Himálayas and healed his wound. And then he became obstinately persistent, and said to the Bráhman, who was delighted at being healed, “Give me a second wound to cure, but if you will not, I will do you an injury or destroy your body.” When the Bráhman heard that, he was terrified, and immediately said to him to get rid of him—“I will give you another wound within seven days.” Whereupon the Piśácha left him, but the Bráhman felt hopeless about his life. But eventually he baffled the Piśácha by the help of his daughter, and having got over the disease, he lived in happiness.[14]
“Such are Piśáchas, and some young princes are just like them, and, though conciliated, produce misfortune, my friend, but they can be guarded against by counsel. But princesses of good family have never been heard to be such. So you must not expect any injury from associating with me.” When Somaprabhá heard from the mouth of Kalingasená in due course this sweet, entertaining, and amusing tale, she was delighted. And she said to her—“My house is sixty yojanas distant hence, and the day is passing away; I have remained long, so now I must depart, fair one.” Then, as the lord of day was slowly sinking to the eastern mountain, she took leave of her friend who was eager for a second interview, and in a moment flew up into the air, exciting the wonder of the spectators, and rapidly returned to her own house. And, after beholding that wonderful sight, Kalingasená entered into her house with much perplexity, and reflected, “I do not know, indeed, whether my friend is a Siddha female, or an Apsaras, or a Vidyádharí. She is certainly a heavenly female that travels through the upper air. And heavenly females associate with mortal ones led by excessive love. Did not Arundhatí live in friendship with the daughter of king Pṛithu? Did not Pṛithu by means of her friendship bring Surabhi from heaven to earth. And did not he by consuming its milk return to heaven though he had fallen from it. And were not thenceforth perfect cows born upon earth? So I am fortunate; it is by good luck that I have obtained this heavenly creature as a friend; and when she comes to-morrow I will dexterously as her her descent and name.” Thinking such thoughts in her heart, Kalingasená spent that night there, and Somaprabhá spent the night in her own house being eager to behold her again.
[1] The word táraká means also a star. So here we have one of those puns in which our author delights.
[2] Also full of affection. This is a common pun.
[3] Beasts of prey, or possibly Rákshasas.
[4] Compare the translation of the life of St. Brigit by Whitley Stokes, (Three Middle Irish Homilies, p. 65.)
“Shortly after that came a certain nobleman unto Dubthach to ask for his daughter in marriage. Dubthach and his sons were willing, but Brigit refused. Said a brother of her brethren named Beccán unto her: ‘Idle is the fair eye that is in thy head not to be on a pillow near a husband.’ ‘The son of the Virgin knoweth’ said Brigit, ‘it is not lively for us if it brings harm upon us.’ Then Brigit put her finger under her eye and drew it out of her head till it was on her cheek; and she said: ‘Lo, here is thy delightful eye, O Beccán.’ Then his eye burst forthwith. When Dubthach and his brethren saw that, they promised that she should never be told to go to a husband. Then she put her palm to her eye and it was whole at once. But Beccán’s eye was not whole till his death.”
That the biographers of Christian saints were largely indebted to Buddhist hagiology, has been shewn by Liebrecht in his Essay on the sources of Barlaam and Josaphat, (Zur Volkskunde, p. 441.) In Mr. Stokes’s book, p. 34, will also be found a reference to the practice of shewing reverence by walking round persons or things keeping the right hand towards them. This is pointed out by Mr. Stokes in his Preface as an interesting link between Ireland and India.
Mr. Whitley Stokes has sent me the following quotation in the Revue Celtique V, 130 from P. Cahier, Caracteristiques des Saints I, 105;
“A certain virgin Lucia (doubtful whether of Bologna or of Alexandria) se voyant fréquemment suivie par un jeune homme qui affectait de l’accompagner partout dès q’elle quittait sa maison, lui demanda enfin ce qui l’attachait si fort à ses pas. Celui-ci ayant répondu que c’ etait la beauté de ses yeux, la jeune fille se servit de son fuseau pour faire sortir ses yeux de leur orbite, et dit à son poursuivant qu’il pouvait les prendre et la laisser dèsormais en repos. On ajoute que cette generosité effrayante changea si fort le cœur du jeune homme qu’il embrassa la profession religieuse. The story of the ascetic who conquered anger, resembles closely the Khantivádijátaka No. 313 in Fausböll’s edition, Vol. III, p. 39. It is also found in the Bodhisattva Avadána, under the title Kshánti Játaka, and in the Mahávastu Avadána in a form closely resembling that of the Páli Játaka book. See Dr. Rajendra Lál Mitra’s Nepalese Buddhist Literature, pp. 55, 159, and 160.
[5] They are compared to the five sacred fires.
[6] Literally the worthless straw-heap of &c.
[7] Here there is a pun on the two meanings of Śrí.
[8] In the Svayamvara the maiden threw a garland over the neck of the favoured suitor.
[9] Rasa also means water.
[10] This story is compared by Benfey (Orient und Occident, Vol. I, p. 374) with the story of the faithful servant Víravara in the Hitopadeśa, which is also found in the Vetálapanchavinśati, (see chapter 78 of this work.) Víravara, according to the account in the Vetálapanchavinśati, hears the weeping of a woman. He finds it is the king’s fortune deserting him. He accordingly offers up his son, and finally slays himself. The king is about to do the same when the goddess Durgá restores the dead to life. The story of “Der Treue Johannes” will at once occur to readers of Grimm’s tales. According to Benfey, it is also found in the Pentamerone of Basile. The form of the tale in our text is very similar to that in Grimm. (See Benfey’s Panchatantra, Vol. I, p. 416.) The story of the faithful Víravara occurs twice in this collection, in chapter 53, and also in chapter 78. Sir G. Cox (in his Aryan Mythology, Vol. I p. 148), compares the German story with one in Miss Frere’s Old Deccan Days, the 5th in that collection. Other parallels will be found in the notes in Grimm’s third volume. A very striking parallel will be found in Bernhard Schmidt’s Griechische Märchen, Story No. 3, p. 68. In this story the three Moirai predict evil. The young prince is saved by his sister, from being burnt, and from falling over a precipice when a child, and from a snake on his wedding-day. See also De Gubernatis, Zoological Mythology, Vol. II, pp. 301–302. Cp. also Coelho’s Contos Portuguezes, No. 51, Pedro e Pedrito, p. 118, and Grimm’s Irische Märchen, pp. 106, 107. In the Gagga Játaka, No. 135, Fausböll, Vol. II, p. 15, the Buddha tells how the custom of saying “Jíva” or “God bless you” originated. A Yakka was allowed to eat all who did not say “Jíva” and “Paṭijíva.” Zimmer in his Alt-Indisches Leben, p. 60, quotes from the Atharva Veda, “vor Unglück-bedeutendem Niesen.”
[11] The same idea is found in Midsummer Night’s Dream, Act III, Sc. 2, beginning, “We, Hermia, like two artificial gods &c.”
[12] Cp. Ralston’s Russian Folk-Tales, pp. 69 and 71, for the three dangers. The custom of saying “God bless you,” or equivalent words, when a man sneezes, is shewn by Tylor (Primitive Culture, Vol. I, pp. 88–94) to exist in many parts of the world. He quotes many passages from classical literature relating to it. “Even the emperor Tiberius, that saddest of men, exacted this observance.” See also Sir Thomas Browne’s Vulgar Errors, Book IV ch. 9, “Of saluting upon sneezing.”
[13] There is a story illustrating the “pertinacity” of goblins in Wirt Sikes’s British Goblins, p. 191.
[14] I have been obliged to omit some portion of this story. “It was,” Wilson remarks, “acceptable to the couteurs of Europe, and is precisely the same as that of ‘Le petit diable de Papefigue’ of Fontaine.”