The same idea constantly occurs in Indian folk-lore. The barren queen is given the juice of a pomegranate by a Faqîr, or the king plucks one of the seven mangoes which grow on a special tree, or a beggar gives the princess the drug which causes her to give birth to twins.[103] Even in the Râmâyana we read that Râja Dasaratha divides the oblation among his wives and they conceive. Even nowadays in Florence, if a woman wishes to be with child, she goes to a priest and gets from him an enchanted apple, with which she repairs to Saint Anna, who was the Lucina of Roman times, and repeats a prayer or a spell.[104]
Some holy men, it must be admitted, do not escape the tongue of slander for their doings in this department of their business.
Harmless Saints and Godlings.
Most of these saints and godlings whom we have been considering, are comparatively harmless, and even benevolent. Such is nearly always the case with the ghosts of the European dead, who are constantly deified. Perhaps because the Sâhib is such a curiously incomprehensible personage to the rustic, he is believed to retain his powers in the other world. But it is a remarkable and unconscious tribute to the foreign ruler that his ghost should be beneficent.
The gardener in charge of the station cemetery in Mirzapur some time ago informed me that he constantly sees the ghosts of the ladies and gentlemen buried there coming out for a walk in the hot summer nights, and that they never harm him.
But with ordinary graves it is necessary to be cautious. As appears in the cycle of tales which turn on the magic ointment which enables the possessor to see the beings of the other world, spirits hate being watched. The spirit, for instance, often announces its wishes. When the Emperor Tughlaq began to build the tomb of the Saint Bahâwal Haq, a voice was heard from below, saying, “You are treading on my body.” Another site was chosen at a short distance, and the voice said, “You are treading on my knees.” He went a little further, and the voice said, “You are treading on my toes.” So he had to go to the other end of the fort, and as the voice was not heard there, the tomb was built. If you visit an old tomb, it is well to clap your hands, as the ghost sometimes revisits its resting-place, and if discovered in déshabille, is likely to resent the intrusion in a very disagreeable manner. So it is very dangerous to pollute a tomb or insult its occupant in any way, and instances have occurred of cases of epilepsy and hysteria, which were attributed to the neglect of these precautions.
Thus, there is nothing permanent, no established rule of faith in the popular belief of the rustic. Discredited saints and shrines are always passing into contempt and oblivion; new worthies are being constantly canonized. The worst part of the matter is that there is no official controller of the right to deification, no Advocatus Diaboli to dispute the claims of the candidate to celestial honours. At the same time the system, though often discredited by fraud, admirably illustrates the elastic character of the popular creed. Hinduism would hardly be so congenial to the minds of the masses, if some rigid supervising agency disputed the right of any tribe to worship its hero, of any village to canonize its local worthy. The steady popularity of the system, for the present at least, shows that it satisfactorily provides for the religious wants of the people.
[1] Tylor, “Primitive Culture,” ii. 113.