Bugaboos.
We close this long list of ghostly personages with those who are merely bugaboos to frighten children. Such are Hawwa, probably a corruption through the Prâkrit of the Sanskrit Bhûta, and Humma or Humu, who is said to be the ghost of the Emperor Humayûn, who died by an untimely death. Akin perhaps to him are the Humanas of Kumaun, who take the form of men, but cannot act as ordinary persons.[230]
These sprites are to the Bengâli matron what Old Scratch and Red Nose and Bloody Bones are to English mothers,[231] and when a Bengâli baby is particularly naughty its mother threatens to send for Warren Hastings. Akin to these is Ghoghar, who represents Ghuggu or the hooting of the owl.[232] Nekî Bîbî, “the good lady;” Mâno or the cat; Bhâkur; Bhokaswa; and Dokarkaswa, “the old man with the bag,” who carries off naughty children, who is the Mr. Miacca of the English nursery.[233]
SACRED FIG TREE AND SHRINES.
[1] For some of the literature of the Evil Eye see Tylor, “Early History,” 134; Henderson, “Folk-lore of the Northern Counties,” 187 sq.; Westropp, “Primitive Symbolism,” 58 sqq.; Gregor, “Folk-lore of North-East Scotland,” 8.
[2] “Natural History,” vii. 2.
[3] Ibbetson, “Panjâb Ethnography,” 117.
[4] Lady Wilde, “Legends,” 24.
[5] Campbell, “Notes,” 207.
[6] On this see valuable notes by W. Cockburn in “Panjâb Notes and Queries,” i. 14.
[7] For many lists of such names see Temple, “Proper Names of Panjâbis,” 22 sqq.; “Indian Antiquary,” viii. 321 sq.; x. 321 sq.; “Panjâb Notes and Queries,” i.26, 51; iii. 9.
[8] Gregor, “Folk-lore of North-East Scotland,” 35.
[9] “Folk-lore,” iii. 85.
[10] Lady Wilde, “Legends,” 20.
[11] “Folk-lore,” i. 273; Spencer, “Principles of Sociology,” i. 242; Lubbock, “Origin of Civilization,” 243; Farrer, “Primitive Manners,” 119 sq.
[12] “Notes,” 400.
[13] Cunningham, “Archæological Reports,” vii. 6.
[14] “Folk-lore,” ii. 179.
[15] “Bombay Gazetteer,” v. 45 sq.
[16] “Folk-lore,” iv. 147.
[17] “Panjâb Notes and Queries,” ii. 42.
[18] Leland, “Etruscan Roman Remains,” 53.
[19] Gregor, “Folk-lore of North-East Scotland,” 7.
[20] Brand, “Observations,” 753.
[21] Campbell, “Notes,” 184.
[22] “Notes,” 34.
[23] Gregor, “Folk-lore of North-East Scotland,” 5, 60, 62.
[24] Reg. vs. Lalla, “Nizâmat Adâlat Reports,” 22nd September, 1853.
[25] Gubernatis, “Zoological Mythology,” ii. 281.
[26] “Folk-lore,” i. 154.
[27] Tawney, “Katha Sarit Sâgara,” i. 386, 575; ii. 64.
[28] Brand, “Observations,” 339.
[29] “Primitive Manners,” 293.
[30] Lady Wilde, “Legends,” 181.
[31] “Etruscan Roman Remains,” 264.
[32] “Bombay Gazetteer,” v. 123; and for another instance, see Jarrett, “Aîn-i-Akbari,” ii. 197.
[33] Lâl Bihâri Dê, “Folk-tales,” 108 sqq.; Wilson, “Indian Caste,” ii. 174.
[34] Campbell, “Notes,” 69.
[35] Brand, “Observations,” 344, 733.
[36] v. 21.
[37] For further examples see Campbell, “Notes,” 126 sqq.
[38] Temple, “Wideawake Stories,” 83; Tawney, “Katha Sarit Sâgara,” i.478.
[39] Cunningham, “Archæological Reports,” vii. 50.
[40] Campbell, “Notes,” 119.
[41] “North Indian Notes and Queries,” iii. 53.
[42] Brand, “Observations,” 733.
[43] “Anatomy of Melancholy,” 434.
[44] Henderson, “Folk-lore of the Northern Counties,” 146; Leland. “Etruscan Roman Remains,” 267.
[45] Hunt, “Popular Romances,” 213.
[46] “Panjâb Notes and Queries,” iii. 67.
[47] Campbell, “Notes,” 49 sq.
[48] Dalton, “Descriptive Ethnology,” 115, 270, 272.
[49] “Panjâb Notes and Queries,” i. 51.
[50] Risley, “Tribes and Castes,” ii. 209.
[51] Brand, “Observations,” 166.
[52] Leland, “Etruscan Roman Remains,” 260, 279; Hartland, “Legend of Perseus,” ii. 258 sqq.
[53] “Folk-lore,” iv. 358, 361.
[54] Brand, loc. cit., 724.
[55] Campbell, “Notes,” 131; Tylor, “Primitive Culture,” ii. 439.
[56] Brand, loc. cit., 668.
[57] Tawney, “Katha Sarit Sâgara,” ii. 198.
[58] Schrader, “Prehistoric Antiquities,” 163 sqq.
[59] Gregor, “Folk-lore of North-East Scotland,” 45; Lady Wilde, “Legends,” 205.
[60] “Folk-lore,” ii. 292; Rhys, “Lectures,” 446, 553; Campbell, “Popular Tales,” Introduction, lxx.; ii. 98; Hartland, “Legend of Perseus,” i. 37.
[61] Brand, “Observations,” 355.
[62] Frazer, “Golden Bough,” i. 125.
[63] “Bombay Gazetteer,” xii. 117.
[64] Campbell, “Notes,” 95.
[65] Dalton, “Descriptive Ethnology,” 261, 321.
[66] Brand, “Observations,” 58.
[67] Hartland, “Legend of Perseus,” ii. 289.
[68] Dalton, loc. cit., 261.
[69] “Settlement Report,” 274.
[70] “North Indian Notes and Queries,” ii. 29.
[71] Campbell, “Notes,” 92.
[72] Growse, “Râmâyana,” 99.
[73] Frazer, “Totemism,” 26 sq.
[74] Dalton, “Descriptive Ethnology,” 157, 161, 191, 219, 251.
[75] Bholanâth Chandra, “Travels of a Hindu,” i. 326; “Panjâb Notes and Queries,” i. 27, 99; Farrer, “Primitive Manners,” 125.
[76] Campbell, “Notes,” p. 134.
[77] Yule, “Marco Polo,” ii. 69,99; Herodotus, v. 6; and for the Dacians, Pliny, “Natural History,” vii. 10; xxii. 2.
[78] Loc. cit., ii. 218.
[79] Hislop, “Papers,” ii., note; Risley, “Tribes and Castes,” i. 292.
[80] Brand, “Observations,” 399. For the Indian versions of Cinderella and her shoe, see “North Indian Notes and Queries,” iii. 102, 121.
[81] “Legend of Perseus,” i. 171.
[82] Hunt, “Popular Romances,” 409.
[83] Campbell, “Notes,” 105.
[84] “North Indian Notes and Queries,” i. 86.
[85] Brand, “Observations,” 335.
[86] Campbell, “Notes,” 91, quoting Chambers, “Book of Days,” 720.
[87] Leland, “Etruscan Roman Remains,” 93.
[88] “Panjâb Notes and Queries,” iv. 132; Campbell, “Notes,” 284.
[89] Brand, “Observations,” 121.
[90] Brand, “Observations,” 598.
[91] Rhys, “Lectures.” 348; Miss Cox, “Cinderella,” 489; Grimm, “Household Tales,” ii. 429; Hartland, “Legend of Perseus,” i. 12.
[92] Knowles, “Folk-lore of Kashmîr,” 333.
[93] Dalton, “Descriptive Ethnology,” 283.
[94] Spencer, “Principles of Sociology,” i. 254, note, 301.
[95] “History of Indian Architecture,” 57 sqq.; Cunningham, “Archæological Reports,” ii. 87; xvi. 8 sqq.
[96] Monier-Williams, “Brâhmanism and Hinduism,” 203.
[97] Aubrey, “Remaines,” 57.
[98] “Notes,” 177.
[99] Westropp, “Primitive Symbolism,” 58 sqq., 61 sqq.
[100] “Bombay Gazetteer,” xviii. 473, 426.
[101] “Settlement Report,” 59 sqq.
[102] Tod, “Annals,” i. 383, note, 411, note.
[103] Campbell, “Notes.” 251.
[104] “Panjâb Notes and Queries,” ii. 44.
[105] “Panjâb Notes and Queries,” iii. 186.
[106] “Folk-lore,” ii. 75; Lady Wilde, “Legends,” 110; Brand, “Observations,” 754.
[107] Lady Wilde, loc. cit., 79.
[108] Tawney, “Katha Sarit Sâgara,” i. 337; ii. 233, 358.
[109] ii. 279.
[110] “North Indian Notes and Queries,” i. 61.
[111] Tod, “Annals,” i. 457; “North Indian Notes and Queries,” i. 169.
[112] Brand, “Observations,” 359.
[113] Trumbull, “Blood Covenant,” 65; Lubbock, “Origin of Civilization,” 25; Tylor, “Early History,” 128 sq.; Jones, “Finger-ring Lore,” 91 sqq.
[114] Knowles, “Folk-tales,” 23.
[115] Tawney, “Katha Sarit Sâgara,” i. 61; ii. 80; Lane, “Arabian Nights,” i. 9.
[116] Miss Frere, “Old Deccan Days,” 230, 236.
[117] Knowles, “Folk-tales,” 467.
[118] Risley, “Tribes and Castes,” ii. 49; Tawney, loc. cit., i. 300.
[119] Henderson, “Folk-lore of Northern Counties,” 155; Gregor, “Folk-lore of North-East Scotland,” 145.
[120] “Notes and Queries,” i. ser. iv. 500.
[121] Leland, “Etruscan Roman Remains,” 259.
[122] Lady Wilde, “Legends,” 195, 197, 199.
[123] “Settlement Report,” 278, 286.
[124] “North Indian Notes and Queries,” i. 15.
[125] Tod, “Annals,” i. 415; Henderson, “Folk-lore of the Northern Counties,” 20.
[126] Knowles, “Folk-tales of Kashmîr,” 71; Tawney, “Katha Sarit Sâgara,” i. 340.
[127] Risley, “Tribes and Castes.” i. 173, 315.
[128] Leland, “Etruscan Roman Remains,” 168.
[129] Risley, loc. cit., i. 425.
[130] Tawney, “Katha Sarit Sâgara,” i. 576, quoting Lenormant, “Chaldean Magic and Sorcery,” 141; Ralston, “Songs of the Russian People,” 288.
[131] Campbell, “Notes,” 60.
[132] Harland, “Science of Fairy Tales,” 79 sqq.
[133] Growse, 146.
[134] “Primitive Culture,” i. 120.
[135] Frazer, “Golden Bough,” ii. 151.
[136] Henderson, “Folk-lore of the Northern Counties,” 48; Lady Wilde, “Legends,” 146 sqq.
[137] Lâl Bihâri Dê, “Govinda Sâmanta,” i. 12.
[138] Tawney, “Katha Sarit Sâgara,” ii. 66. It has been suggested that the idea arose from the Sanskrit word sasin, meaning “hare-marked” or “the moon”; but this seems rather putting the cart before the horse. Conway, “Demonology,” i. 125; Gubernatis, “Zoological Mythology,” ii. 8; Aubrey, “Remaines,” 20, 109.
[139] “Bombay Gazetteer,” vi. 126; Gregor, “Folk-lore of North-East Scotland,” 128; Lady Wilde, “Legends,” 179.
[140] Tod, “Annals,” ii. 577 sq.
[141] Malcolm, “Central India,” i. 253, note.
[142] Tawney, loc cit., ii. 128.
[143] Blochmann, “Aîn-i-Akbari,” i. 91.
[144] “Annals,” i. 694.
[145] Malcolm, “Central India,” i. 12, note.
[146] “North Indian Notes and Queries,” i. 137, 207; ii. 28; iii. 18; “Panjâb Notes and Queries,” i. 15, 87, 137.
[147] Growse, “Mathura,” 128.
[148] Gregor, “Folk-lore of North-East Scotland,” 200 sq.
[149] “North Indian Notes and Queries,” i. 15.
[150] Hunt, “Popular Romances,” 379; “Contemporary Review,” xlviii. 108; Gregor, “Folk-lore of North-East Scotland,” 206.
[151] Monier-Williams, “Brâhmanism and Hinduism,” 293.
[152] Spencer, “Principles of Sociology,” i. 153.
[153] Gregor, loc. cit., 206; Conway, “Demonology,” i. 53; Farrer, “Primitive Manners,” 23.
[154] “Bombay Gazetteer,” xii. 107; Campbell, “Notes,” 394.
[155] Risley, “Tribes and Castes,” ii. 34.
[156] Brand, “Observations,” 450.
[157] Dalton, “Descriptive Ethnology,” 219.
[158] “Folk-lore,” i. 155.
[159] Knowles, “Folk-tales,” 401.
[160] Leland, “Etruscan Roman Remains,” 260.
[161] “North Indian Notes and Queries,” ii. 10; iii. 90.
[162] “Folk-lore,” iv. 257.
[163] “Himâlayan Gazetteer,” ii. 832; Tylor, “Primitive Culture,” ii. 126; Wilson, “Essays,” ii. 292; Spencer, “Principles of Sociology,” i. 147.
[164] Risley, “Tribes and Castes,” ii. 19.
[165] Lady Wilde, “Legends,” 83.
[166] “Zoological Mythology,” i. 49.
[167] Frazer, “Golden Bough,” i. 154.
[168] “Bombay Gazetteer,” viii. 159.
[169] Lady Wilde, “Legends,” 83.
[170] Henderson, “Folk-lore of the Northern Counties,” 14, 271; Tawney, “Katha Sarit Sâgara,” i. 305, 546; Tylor, “Primitive Culture,” ii. 194 sq; “Contemporary Review,” xlviii. 113; Grierson, “Behâr Peasant Life,” 388; “Folk-lore,” ii. 26, 294.
[171] “Bombay Gazetteer,” xii. 109; “Illustrations of the History and Practices of the Thags,” 9.
[172] Risley, “Tribes and Castes,” ii. 75.
[173] “Notes,” 214, 473.
[174] “Folk-lore of the Northern Counties,” 264.
[175] Dalton, “Descriptive Ethnology,” 202 sq.
[176] “Folk-lore,” iv. 360.
[177] “Settlement Report,” 263 sq.
[178] Hislop, “Papers,” 19.
[179] Dalton, “Descriptive Ethnology,” 274.
[180] “Principles of Sociology,” i. 161.
[181] Dalton, “Descriptive Ethnology,” 12; Tylor, “Primitive Culture,” ii. 33 sq.
[182] “North Indian Notes and Queries,” ii. 7; iii. 17; Campbell, “Notes,” 495.
[183] Frazer, “Golden Bough,” i. 196.
[184] “Bombay Gazetteer,” iii. 220.
[185] Leland, “Etruscan Roman Remains,” 281.
[186] “Legend of Perseus,” ii. 320.
[187] Temple, “Wide-awake Tales,” 414; “Legends of the Panjâb,” i. Introduction xix.; “Folk-lore,” ii. 236; Miss Cox, “Cinderella,” 504; Clouston, “Popular Tales,” i. 341; Campbell, “Santâl Folk-tales,” 16; Grimm, “Household Tales,” ii. 382.
[188] Spencer, “Principles of Sociology,” i. 157, 206; Tylor, “Primitive Culture,” i. 482; Lubbock, “Origin of Civilization,” 37; Farrer, “Primitive Manners,” 21 sq.
[189] Gubernatis, “Zoological Mythology,” i. 49.
[190] “Descriptive Ethnology,” 205.
[191] Lady Wilde, “Legends,” 118, 140.
[192] “Bombay Gazetteer,” xii. 118; “Folk-lore,” iv. 245.
[193] “Travels in the Himâlaya,” i. 342.
[194] Risley, “Tribes and Castes,” i. 126, 174, 395; ii. 71; “Bombay Gazetteer,” xiii. 187; Dalton, “Descriptive Ethnology,” 218.
[195] Hunt, “Popular Romances,” 82.
[196] Brand, “Observations,” 519.
[197] Tylor, “Primitive Culture,” ii. 152.
[198] Risley, loc. cit., ii. 326.
[199] Dalton, “Descriptive Ethnology,” 204 sq.
[200] Dyer, “Popular Customs,” 57.
[201] Ibid., 199.
[202] Ibid., 398.
[203] “Folk-lore,” ii. 310.
[204] Leland, “Etruscan Roman Remains,” 345.
[205] “North Indian Notes and Queries,” iii. 35.
[206] “Remaines,” 95; Henderson, “Folk-lore of the Northern Counties,” 57.
[207] Gregor, “Folk-lore of North-East Scotland,” 213.
[208] Frazer, “Contemporary Review,” xlviii. 117; Spencer, “Principles of Sociology,” i. 195.
[209] Campbell, “Notes,” 334.
[210] Numbers xix. 15.
[211] “Annals,” ii. 542.
[212] Grimm, “Household Tales,” ii. 402; Clouston, “Popular Tales,” i. 380.
[213] Lane, “Arabian Nights,” i. 71; Lâl Bihâri Dê, “Folk-tales,” 198, 274.
[214] Brand, “Observations,” 435.
[215] Lâl Bihâri Dê, “Folk-tales of Bengal,” 198, 206; “Govinda Sâmanta,” i. 135; “North Indian Notes and Queries,” iii. 199.
[216] “Folk-lore,” ii. 286.
[217] “Notes,” 165.
[218] Dalton, “Descriptive Ethnology,” 25.
[219] Tawney, “Katha Sarit Sâgara,” i. 229; ii. 116; Tylor, “Primitive Culture,” i. 476; ii. 148, 215.
[220] Tawney, loc. cit., ii. 338, 511.
[221] “Notes,” 146 sq.
[222] Tawney, loc. cit., i. 337, 204; ii. 427, 83.
[223] Temple, “Wide-awake Stories,” 317; “Indian Antiquary,” xi. 260 sq.; Leland, “Etruscan Roman Remains,” 163.
[224] As if from Jaksh, “to eat;” a more probable derivation is Yaksh, “to move,” “to worship.”
[225] Spencer Hardy, “Manual of Buddhism,” 269; Conway, “Demonology,” i. 151 sq.
[226] “Bombay Gazetteer,” v. 133, 236.
[227] Frazer, “Golden Bough,” ii. 17.
[228] “Himâlayan Gazetteer,” iii. 117.
[229] Ibid., ii. 833; “North Indian Notes and Queries,” i. 56.
[230] Ganga Datt, “Folk-lore,” 71.
[231] Aubrey, “Remaines,” 59; Henderson, “Folk-lore of the Northern Counties,” 263.
[232] Ghoghar in Bombay takes the form of a native seaman or Lascar, “Bombay Gazetteer,” iv. 343.
[233] Jacobs, “English Fairy Tales.”
CHAPTER II.
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. Spencer[1] 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 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 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 ritual[5] 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 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 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 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 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 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 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 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. 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, 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.