all night; and whether eating, drinking, sleeping, sitting, going or
wandering about, during the twenty-four hours, he held his master
in watchful remembrance. This, indeed, is the custom; if a man sell
another the latter is sold, but a servant by doing service sells
himself, and when a man has become dependent, how can he be happy?
Certain it is that, however intelligent, clever, or learned a man may
be, yet, while he is in his master’s presence, he remains silent as a
dumb man, and struck with dread. Only while he is away from his lord
can he be at ease. Hence, learned men say that to do service aright
is harder than any religious study.
On one occasion it is related that there happened to be heard at
night time the wailing of a woman in a neighbouring cemetery. The
king on hearing it called out, ‘Who is in waiting?’
‘I am here,’ replied Birbal; ‘what command is there?’
‘Go,’ spoke the king, ‘to the place whence proceeds this sound of
woman’s wail, and having inquired the cause of her grief, return
quickly.’
On receiving this order the Rajput went to obey it; and the king,
unseen by him, and attired in a black dress, followed for the purpose
of observing his courage.
Presently Birbal arrived at the cemetery. And what sees he there? A
beautiful woman of a light yellow colour, loaded with jewels from
head to foot, holding a horn in her right and a necklace in her left
hand. Sometimes she danced, sometimes she jumped, and sometimes she
ran about. There was not a tear in her eye, but, beating her head and
making lamentable cries, she kept dashing herself on the ground.
Seeing her condition, and not recognising the goddess born of sea
foam, and whom all the host of heaven loved,[85] Birbal inquired,
‘Why art thou thus beating thyself and crying out? Who art thou? And
what grief is upon thee?’
[85] Lakshmi, the Goddess of Prosperity. Raj-Lakshmi would
mean the King’s Fortune, which we should call tutelary genius.
Lakshichara is our ‘luckless,’ forming, as Mr. Ward says, an
extraordinary coincidence of sound and meaning in languages so
different. But the derivations are very distinct.
‘I am the Royal-Luck,’ she replied.
‘For what reason,’ asked Birbal, ‘art thou weeping?’
The goddess then began to relate her position to the Rajput. She
said, with tears, ‘In the king’s palace Shudra (or low caste acts)
are done, and hence misfortune will certainly fall upon it, and I
shall forsake it. After a month has passed the king, having endured
excessive affliction, will die. In grief for this I weep. I have
brought much happiness to the king’s house, and hence I am full of
regret that this my prediction cannot in any way prove untrue.’
‘Is there,’ asked Birbal, ‘any remedy for this trouble, so that the
king may be preserved and live a hundred years?’
‘Yes,’ said the goddess, ‘there is. About eight miles to the east
thou wilt find a temple dedicated to my terrible sister Devi. Offer
to her thy son’s head, cut off with thine own hand, and the reign of
thy king shall endure for an age.’ So saying Raj-Lakshmi disappeared.
Birbal answered not a word, but with hurried steps he turned towards
his home. The king, still in black so as not to be seen, followed him
closely, and observed and listened to everything he did.
The Rajput went straight to his wife, awakened her, and related to
her everything that had happened. The wise have said, ‘she alone
deserves the name of wife who always receives her husband with
affectionate and submissive words.’ When she heard the circumstances,
she at once aroused her son, and her daughter also awoke. Then Birbal
told them all that they must follow him to the temple of Devi in the
wood.
On the way the Rajput said to his wife, ‘If thou wilt give up thy son
willingly, I will sacrifice him for our master’s sake to Devi the
Destroyer.’
She replied, ‘Father and mother, son and daughter, brother and
relative, have I now none. You are everything to me. It is written
in the scripture that a wife is not made pure by gifts to priests,
nor by performing religious rites; her virtue consists in waiting
upon her husband, in obeying him and in loving him—yea! though he be
lame, maimed in the hands, dumb, deaf, blind, one-eyed, leprous, or
humpbacked. It is a true saying that “a son under one’s authority,
a body free from sickness, a desire to acquire knowledge, an
intelligent friend, and an obedient wife; whoever holds these five
will find them bestowers of happiness and dispellers of affliction.
An unwilling servant, a parsimonious king, an insincere friend, and a
wife not under control; such things are disturbers of ease and givers
of trouble.”’
Then the good wife turned to her son and said, ‘Child, by the gift
of thy head, the king’s life may be spared, and the kingdom remain
unshaken.’
‘Mother,’ replied that excellent youth, ‘in my opinion we should
hasten this matter. Firstly, I must obey your command; secondly, I
must promote the interests of my master; thirdly, if this body be
of any use to a goddess, nothing better can be done with it in this
world.’
(‘Excuse me, Raja Vikram,’ said the Baital, interrupting himself, ‘if
I repeat these fair discourses at full length; it is interesting to
hear a young person, whose throat is about to be cut, talk so like a
doctor of laws.’)
Then the youth thus addressed his sire: ‘Father, whoever can be of
use to his master, the life of that man in this world has been lived
to good purpose, and by reason of his usefulness he will be rewarded
in other worlds.’
His sister, however, exclaimed, ‘If a mother should give poison to
her daughter, and a father sell his son, and a king seize the entire
property of his subjects, where then could one look for protection?’
But they heeded her not, and continued talking as they journeyed
towards the temple of Devi—the king all the while secretly following
them.
Presently they reached the temple, a single room, surrounded by a
spacious paved area; in front was an immense building capable of
seating hundreds of people. Before the image there were pools of
blood, where victims had lately been slaughtered. In the sanctum was
Devi, a large black figure with ten arms. With a spear in one of her
right hands she pierced the giant Mahisha; and with one of her left
hands she held the tail of a serpent, and the hair of the giant,
whose breast the serpent was biting. Her other arms were all raised
above her head, and were filled with different instruments of war;
against her right leg leaned a lion.
Then Birbal joined his hands in prayer, and with Hindu mildness
thus addressed the awful goddess: ‘O mother, let the king’s life be
prolonged for a thousand years by the sacrifice of my son. O Devi,
mother! destroy, destroy his enemies! Kill! kill! Reduce them to
ashes! Drive them away! Devour them! devour them! Cut them in two!
Drink! drink their blood! Destroy them root and branch! With thy
thunderbolt, spear, scymitar, discus, or rope, annihilate them!
Spheng! Spheng!’
The Rajput, having caused his son to kneel before the goddess, struck
him so violent a blow that his head rolled upon the ground. He then
threw the sword down, when his daughter, frantic with grief, snatched
it up and struck her neck with such force that her head, separated
from her body, fell. In her turn the mother, unable to survive the
loss of her children, seized the weapon and succeeded in decapitating
herself. Birbal, beholding all this slaughter, thus reflected: ‘My
children are dead; why, now, should I remain in servitude, and upon
whom shall I bestow the gold I receive from the king?’ He then gave
himself so deep a wound in the neck, that his head also separated
from his body.
Rupsen, the king, seeing these four heads on the ground, said in his
heart, ‘For my sake has the family of Birbal been destroyed. Kingly
power, for the purpose of upholding which the destruction of a whole
household is necessary, is a mere curse, and to carry on government
in this manner is not just.’ He then took up the sword and was about
to slay himself, when the Destroying Goddess, probably satisfied with
bloodshed, stayed his hand, bidding him at the same time ask any boon
he pleased.
The generous monarch begged, thereupon, that his faithful servant
might be restored to life, together with all his high-minded family;
and the goddess Devi in the twinkling of an eye fetched from Patala,
the regions below the earth, a vase full of Amrita, the water of
immortality, sprinkled it upon the dead, and raised them all as
before. After which the whole party walked leisurely home, and in due
time the king divided his throne with his friend Birbal.
Having stopped for a moment, the Baital proceeded to remark, in a
sententious tone, ‘Happy the servant who grudges not his own life to
save that of his master! And happy, thrice happy the master who can
annihilate all greedy longing for existence and worldly prosperity.
Raja, I have to ask thee one searching question—Of these five, who
was the greatest fool?’
‘Demon!’ exclaimed the great Vikram, all whose cherished feelings
about fidelity and family affection, obedience and high-mindedness,
were outraged by this Vampire view of the question; ‘if thou meanest
by the greatest fool the noblest mind, I reply without hesitating
Rupsen, the king.’
‘Why, prithee?’ asked the Baital.
‘Because, dull demon,’ said the king, ‘Birbal was bound to offer up
his life for a master who treated him so generously; the son could
not disobey his father, and the women naturally and instinctively
killed themselves, because the example was set to them. But Rupsen
the king gave up his throne for the sake of his retainer, and valued
not a straw his life and his high inducements to live. For this
reason I think him the most meritorious.’
‘Surely, mighty Vikram,’ laughed the Vampire, ‘you will be tired of
ever clambering up yon tall tree, even had you the legs and arms of
Hanuman[86] himself.’
[86] The Monkey God.
And so saying he disappeared from the cloth, although it had been
placed upon the ground.
But the poor Baital had little reason to congratulate himself on the
success of his escape. In a short time he was again bundled into the
cloth with the usual want of ceremony, and he revenged himself by
telling another true story.
THE VAMPIRE’S FOURTH STORY.
OF A WOMAN WHO TOLD THE TRUTH.
‘Listen, great king!’ again began the Baital.
An unimportant Baniya[87] (trader), Hiranyadatt, had a daughter,
whose name was Madansena Sundari, the beautiful army of Cupid. Her
face was like the moon; her hair like the clouds; her eyes like those
of a musk-rat; her eyebrows like a bent bow; her nose like a parrot’s
bill; her neck like that of a dove; her teeth like pomegranate
grains; the red colour of her lips like that of a gourd; her waist
lithe and bending like the pard’s; her hands and feet like softest
blossoms; her complexion like the jasmine—in fact, day by day the
splendour of her youth increased.
[87] Generally written ‘Banyan.’
When she had arrived at maturity, her father and mother began often
to revolve in their minds the subject of her marriage. And the people
of all that country side ruled by Birbar king of Madanpur bruited it
abroad that in the house of Hiranyadatt had been born a daughter by
whose beauty gods, men, and munis (sages) were fascinated.
Thereupon many, causing their portraits to be painted, sent them by
messengers to Hiranyadatt the Baniya, who showed them all to his
daughter. But she was capricious, as beauties sometimes are, and when
her father said, ‘Make choice of a husband thyself,’ she told him
that none pleased her, and moreover she begged of him to find her a
husband who possessed good looks, good qualities, and good sense.
At length, when some days had passed, four suitors came from four
different countries. The father told them that he must have from each
some indication that he possessed the required qualities; that he was
pleased with their looks, but that they must satisfy him about their
knowledge.
‘I have,’ the first said, ‘a perfect acquaintance with the Shastras
(or Scriptures); in science there is none to rival me. As for my
handsome mien, it may plainly be seen by you.’
The second exclaimed, ‘My attainments are unique in the knowledge
of archery. I am acquainted with the art of discharging arrows
and killing anything which though not seen is heard, and my fine
proportions are plainly visible to you.’
The third continued, ‘I understand the language of land and water
animals, of birds and of beasts, and I have no equal in strength. Of
my comeliness you yourself may judge.’
‘I have the knowledge,’ quoth the fourth, ‘how to make a certain
cloth which can be sold for five rubies: having sold it I give the
proceeds of one ruby to a Brahman, of the second I make an offering
to a deity, a third I wear on my own person, a fourth I keep for my
wife; and, having sold the fifth, I spend it in giving feasts. This
is my knowledge, and none other is acquainted with it. My good looks
are apparent.’
The father hearing these speeches began to reflect, ‘It is said that
excess in anything is not good. Sita[88] was very lovely, but the
demon Ravana carried her away; and Bali king of Mahabahpur gave much
alms, but at length he became poor.[89] My daughter is too fair to
remain a maiden; to which of these shall I give her?’
[88] The daughter of Raja Janaka, married to Ramachandra. The
latter placed his wife under the charge of his brother Lakshmana,
and went into the forest to worship, when the demon Ravana
disguised himself as a beggar, and carried off the prize.
[89] This great king was tricked by the god Vishnu out of the
sway of heaven and earth, but from his exceeding piety he was
appointed to reign in Patala, or Hades.
So saying, Hiranyadatt went to his daughter, explained the qualities
of the four suitors, and asked, ‘To which shall I give thee?’ On
hearing these words she was abashed; and, hanging down her head, knew
not what to reply.
Then the Baniya, having reflected, said to himself, ‘He who is
acquainted with the Shastras is a Brahman, he who could shoot an
arrow at the sound was a Kshatriya or warrior, and he who made the
cloth was a Shudra or servile. But the youth who understands the
language of birds is of our own caste. To him, therefore, will I
marry her.’ And accordingly he proceeded with the betrothal of his
daughter.
Meanwhile Madansena went one day, during the spring season, into the
garden for a stroll. It happened, just before she came out, that
Somdatt, the son of the merchant Dharmdatt, had gone for pleasure
into the forest, and was returning through the same garden to his
home.
He was fascinated at the sight of the maiden, and said to his friend,
‘Brother, if I can obtain her my life will be prosperous, and if I do
not obtain her my living in the world will be in vain.’
Having thus spoken, and becoming restless from the fear of
separation, he involuntarily drew near to her, and seizing her hand,
said—
‘If thou wilt not form an affection for me, I will throw away my life
on thy account.’
‘Be pleased not to do this,’ she replied; ‘it will be sinful, and it
will involve me in the guilt and punishment of shedding blood; hence
I shall be miserable in this world and in that to be.’
‘Thy blandishments,’ he replied, ‘have pierced my heart, and the
consuming thought of parting from thee has burnt up my body, and
memory and understanding have been destroyed by this pain; and from
excess of love I have no sense of right or wrong. But if thou wilt
make me a promise, I will live again.’
She replied, ‘Truly the Kali Yug (iron age) has commenced, since
which time falsehood has increased in the world and truth has
diminished; people talk smoothly with their tongues, but nourish
deceit in their hearts; religion is destroyed, crime has increased,
and the earth has begun to give little fruit. Kings levy fines,
Brahmans have waxed covetous, the son obeys not his sire’s commands,
brother distrusts brother; friendship has departed from amongst
friends; sincerity has left masters; servants have given up service;
man has abandoned manliness; and woman has abandoned modesty. Five
days hence, my marriage is to be; but if thou slay not thyself, I
will visit thee first, and after that I will remain with my husband.’
Having given this promise, and having sworn by the Ganges, she
returned home. The merchant’s son also went his way.
Presently the marriage ceremonies came on, and Hiranyadatt the Baniya
expended a lakh of rupees in feasts and presents to the bridegroom.
The bodies of the twain were anointed with turmeric, the bride was
made to hold in her hand the iron box for eye paint, and the youth
a pair of betel scissors. During the night before the wedding there
was loud and shrill music, the heads and limbs of the young couple
were rubbed with an ointment of oil, and the bridegroom‘s head was
duly shaved. The wedding procession was very grand. The streets were
a blaze of flambeaux and torches carried in the hand, fireworks by
the ton were discharged as the people passed; elephants, camels, and
horses richly caparisoned, were placed in convenient situations; and
before the procession had reached the house of the bride half a dozen
wicked boys and bad young men were killed or wounded.[90] After the
marriage formulas were repeated the Baniya gave a feast or supper,
and the food was so excellent that all sat down quietly, no one
uttered a complaint, or brought dishonour on the bride’s family, or
cut with scissors the garments of his neighbour.
[90] The procession is fair game, and is often attacked in the
dark with sticks and stones, causing serious disputes. At the
supper the guests confer the obligation by their presence, and
are exceedingly exacting.
The ceremony thus happily concluded, the husband brought Madansena
home to his own house. After some days the wife of her husband’s
youngest brother and also the wife of his eldest brother led her at
night by force to her bridegroom, and seated her on a bed ornamented
with flowers.
As her husband proceeded to take her hand, she jerked it away, and
at once openly told him all that she had promised to Somdatt on
condition of his not killing himself.
‘All things,’ rejoined the bridegroom, hearing her words, ‘have
their sense ascertained by speech; in speech they have their basis,
and from speech they proceed; consequently a falsifier of speech
falsifies everything. If truly you are desirous of going to him, go!’
Receiving her husband’s permission, she arose and went off to the
young merchant’s house in full dress. Upon the road a thief saw her,
and in high good humour came up and asked—
‘Whither goest thou at midnight in such darkness, having put on all
these fine clothes and ornaments?’
She replied that she was going to the house of her beloved.
‘And who here,’ said the thief, ‘is thy protector?’
‘Kama Deva,’ she replied, ‘the beautiful youth who by his fiery
arrows wounds with love the hearts of the inhabitants of the three
worlds, Ratipati, the husband of Rati,[91] accompanied by the kokila
bird,[92] the humming bee and gentle breezes.’ She then told to the
thief the whole story, adding—
[91] Rati is the wife of Kama, the God of Desire; and we explain
the word by ‘Spring personified.’
[92] The Indian Cuckoo (_Cuculus Indicus_). It is supposed to lay
its eggs in the nest of the crow.
‘Destroy not my jewels: I give thee a promise before I go that on my
return thou shalt have all these ornaments.’
Hearing this the thief thought to himself that it would be useless
now to destroy her jewels, when she had promised to give them to him
presently of her own good will. He therefore let her go, and sat
down and thus soliloquised:
‘To me it is astonishing that he who sustained me in my mother’s womb
should take no care of me now that I have been born and am able to
enjoy the good things of this world. I know not whether he is asleep
or dead. And I would rather swallow poison than ask man for money
or favour. For these six things tend to lower a man:—friendship
with the perfidious; causeless laughter; altercation with women;
serving an unworthy master; riding an ass, and speaking any language
but Sanskrit. And these five things the deity writes on our fate at
the hour of birth:—first, age; secondly, action; thirdly, wealth;
fourthly, science; fifthly, fame. I have now done a good deed, and as
long as a man’s virtue is in the ascendant, all people becoming his
servants obey him. But when virtuous deeds diminish, even his friends
become inimical to him.’
Meanwhile Madansena had reached the place where Somdatt the young
trader had fallen asleep.
She awoke him suddenly, and he springing up in alarm quickly asked
her, ‘Art thou the daughter of a deity? or of a saint? or of a
serpent? Tell me truly, who art thou? And whence hast thou come?’
She replied, ‘I am human—Madansena, the daughter of the Baniya
Hiranyadatt. Dost thou not remember taking my hand in that grove, and
declaring that thou wouldst slay thyself if I did not swear to visit
thee first and after that remain with my husband?’
‘Hast thou,’ he inquired, ‘told all this to thy husband or not?’
She replied, ‘I have told him everything; and he, thoroughly
understanding the whole affair, gave me permission.’
‘This matter,’ exclaimed Somdatt in a melancholy voice, ‘is
like pearls without a suitable dress, or food without clarified
butter,[93] or singing without melody; they are all alike unnatural.
In the same way, unclean clothes will mar beauty, bad food will
undermine strength, a wicked wife will worry her husband to death, a
disreputable son will ruin his family, an enraged demon will kill,
and a woman, whether she love or hate, will be a source of pain. For
there are few things which a woman will not do. She never brings to
her tongue what is in her heart, she never speaks out what is on her
tongue, and she never tells what she is doing. Truly the Deity has
created woman a strange creature in this world.’ He concluded with
these words: ‘Return thou home; with another man’s wife I have no
concern.’
[93] This is the well-known Ghi or Ghee, the one sauce of India,
which is as badly off in that matter as England.
Madansena rose and departed. On her way she met the thief,
who, hearing her tale, gave her great praise, and let her go
unplundered.[94]
[94] The European reader will observe that it is her purity which
carries the heroine through all these perils. Moreover, that her
virtue is its own reward, as it loses to her the world.
[Illustration: The Baital disappeared through the darkness.]
She then went to her husband, and related the whole matter to him.
But he had ceased to love her, and he said, ‘Neither a king nor a
minister, nor a wife, nor a person’s hair nor his nails, look well
out of their places. And the beauty of the kokila is its note, of
an ugly man knowledge, of a devotee forgiveness, and of a woman her
chastity.’
The Vampire having narrated thus far, suddenly asked the king, ‘Of
these three, whose virtue was the greatest?’
Vikram, who had been greatly edified by the tale, forgot himself, and
ejaculated, ‘The Thief’s.’
‘And pray why?’ asked the Baital.
‘Because,’ the hero explained, ‘when her husband saw that she loved
another man, however purely, he ceased to feel affection for her.
Somdatt let her go unharmed, for fear of being punished by the king.
But there was no reason why the thief should fear the law and dismiss
her; therefore he was the best.’
‘Hi! hi! hi!’ laughed the demon, spitefully. ‘Here, then, ends my
story.’
Upon which, escaping as before from the cloth in which he was slung
behind the Raja’s back, the Baital disappeared through the darkness
of the night, leaving father and son looking at each other in dismay.
‘Son Dharma Dhwaj,’ quoth the great Vikram, ‘the next time when
that villain Vampire asks me a question, I allow thee to take the
liberty of pinching my arm even before I have had time to answer his
questions. In this way we shall never, of a truth, end our task.’
‘Your words be upon my head, sire,’ replied the young prince. But he
expected no good from his father’s new plan, as, arrived under the
siras-tree, he heard the Baital laughing with all his might.
‘Surely he is laughing at our beards, sire,’ said the beardless
prince, who hated to be laughed at like a young person.
‘Let them laugh that win,’ fiercely cried Raja Vikram, who hated to
be laughed at like an elderly person.
* * * * *
The Vampire lost no time in opening a fresh story.