herself, and make the next life of the thief certain. She showed her
courage by thrusting her finger into a torch flame till it became a
cinder, and she solemnly bathed in the nearest stream.
A hole was dug in the ground, and upon a bed of green tree-trunks
were heaped hemp, pitch, faggots, and clarified butter, to form the
funeral pyre. The dead body, anointed, bathed, and dressed in new
clothes, was then laid upon the heap, which was some two feet high.
Shobhani prayed that as long as fourteen Indras reign, or as many
years as there are hairs in her head, she might abide in heaven with
her husband, and be waited upon by the heavenly dancers. She then
presented her ornaments and little gifts of corn to her friends,
tied some cotton round both wrists, put two new combs in her hair,
painted her forehead, and tied up in the end of her body-cloth
clean parched rice[112] and cowrie-shells. These she gave to the
bystanders, as she walked seven times round the funeral pyre, upon
which lay the body. She then ascended the heap of wood, sat down
upon it, and taking the thief’s head in her lap, without cords or
levers or upper layer of faggots, she ordered the pile to be lighted.
The crowd standing around set fire to it in several places, drummed
their drums, blew their conchs, and raised a loud cry of ‘Hari bol!
Hari bol!’[113] Straw was thrown on, and pitch and clarified butter
were freely poured out. But Shobhani’s was a Saha-maran, a blessed
easy death: no part of her body was seen to move after the pyre was
lighted—in fact, she seemed to die before the flame touched her.
[112] Properly speaking, the husbandman should plough with not
less than four bullocks; but few can afford this. If he plough
with a cow or a bullock, and not with a bull, the rice produced
by his ground is unclean, and may not be used in any religious
ceremony.
[113] A shout of triumph, like our ‘Huzza’ or ‘Hurrah!’ of late
degraded into ‘Hooray.’ ‘Hari bol’ is of course religious,
meaning ‘Call upon Hari!’ i.e. Krishna, i.e. Vishnu.
By the blessing of his daughter’s decease, the old householder
beheaded himself.[114] He caused an instrument to be made in the
shape of a half-moon, with an edge like a razor, and fitting the back
of his neck. At both ends of it, as at the beam of a balance, chains
were fastened. He sat down with eyes closed; he was rubbed with the
purifying clay of the holy river, Vaitarani;[115] and he repeated
the proper incantations. Then placing his feet upon the extremities
of the chains, he suddenly jerked up his neck, and his severed head
rolled from his body upon the ground. What a happy death was this!
[114] This form of suicide is one of those recognised in India.
So in Europe we read of fanatics who, with a suicidal ingenuity,
have succeeded in crucifying themselves.
[115] The river of Jaganath in Orissa; it shares the honours of
sanctity with some twenty-nine others, and in the lower regions
it represents the classical Styx.
The Baital was silent, as if meditating on the fortunate
transmigration which the old householder had thus secured.
‘But what could the thief have been laughing at, sire?’ asked the
young prince Dharma Dhwaj of his father.
‘At the prodigious folly of the girl, my son,’ replied the warrior
king, thoughtlessly.
‘I am indebted once more to your majesty,’ burst out the Baital,
‘for releasing me from this unpleasant position, but the Raja’s
penetration is again at fault. Not to leave your royal son and heir
labouring under a false impression, before going I will explain why
the brave thief burst into tears, and why he laughed at such a moment.
‘He wept when he reflected that he could not requite her kindness in
being willing to give up everything she had in the world to save his
life; and this thought deeply grieved him.
‘Then it struck him as being passing strange that she had begun to
love him when the last sand of his life was well nigh run out; that
wondrous are the ways of the revolving heavens which bestow wealth
upon the niggard that cannot use it, wisdom upon the bad man who will
misuse it, a beautiful wife upon the fool who cannot protect her, and
fertilising showers upon the stony hills. And thinking over these
things, the gallant and beautiful thief laughed aloud.
‘Before returning to my siras-tree,’ continued the Vampire, ‘as I
am about to do in virtue of your majesty’s unintelligent reply, I
may remark that men may laugh and cry, or may cry and laugh, about
everything in this world, from their neighbours’ deaths, which, as
a general rule, in no wise concerns them, to their own latter ends,
which do concern them exceedingly. For my part, I am in the habit of
laughing at everything, because it animates the brain, stimulates the
lungs, beautifies the countenance, and—for the moment, ‘good-bye,
Raja Vikram!’
[Illustration: Presently the demon was trussed up as usual.]
The warrior king, being forewarned this time, shifted the bundle
containing the Baital from his back to under his arm, where he
pressed it with all his might.
This proceeding, however, did not prevent the Vampire from slipping
back to his tree, and leaving an empty cloth with the Raja.
Presently the demon was trussed up as usual; a voice sounded behind
Vikram, and the loquacious thing again began to talk.
THE VAMPIRE’S SIXTH STORY.
IN WHICH THREE MEN DISPUTE ABOUT A WOMAN.
On the lovely banks of Jumna’s stream there was a city known as
Dharmasthal—the Place of Duty; and therein dwelt a certain Brahman
called Keshav. He was a very pious man, in the constant habit of
performing penance and worship upon the river Sidi. He modelled
his own clay images instead of buying them from others; he painted
holy stones red at the top, and made to them offerings of flowers,
fruit, water, sweetmeats, and fried peas. He had become a learned
man somewhat late in life, having, until twenty years old, neglected
his reading, and addicted himself to worshipping the beautiful youth
Kama-deva[116] and Rati his wife, accompanied by the cuckoo, the
humming-bee, and sweet breezes.
[116] Cupid. His wife Rati is the spring personified. The Hindu
poets always unite love and spring, and perhaps physiologically
they are correct.
One day his parents having rebuked him sharply for his ungovernable
conduct, Keshav wandered to a neighbouring hamlet, and hid
himself in the tall fig-tree which shadowed a celebrated image of
Panchánan.[117] Presently an evil thought arose in his head: he
defiled the god, and threw him into the nearest tank.
[117] An incarnation of the third person of the Hindu Triad, or
Triumvirate, Shiva the God of Destruction, the Indian Bacchus.
The image has five faces, and each face has three eyes. In Bengal
it is found in many villages, and the women warn their children
not to touch it on pain of being killed.
The next morning, when the person arrived whose livelihood depended
on the image, he discovered that his god was gone. He returned into
the village distracted, and all was soon in an uproar about the lost
deity.
In the midst of this confusion the parents of Keshav arrived, seeking
for their son; and a man in the crowd declared that he had seen a
young man sitting in Panchánan’s tree, but what had become of the god
he knew not.
The runaway at length appeared, and the suspicions of the villagers
fell upon him as the stealer of Panchánan. He confessed the fact,
pointed out the place where he had thrown the stone, and added
that he had polluted the god. All hands and eyes were raised in
amazement at this atrocious crime, and every one present declared
that Panchánan would certainly punish the daring insult by immediate
death. Keshav was dreadfully frightened; he began to obey his parents
from that very hour, and applied to his studies so sedulously that he
soon became the most learned man of his country.
Now Keshav the Brahman had a daughter whose name was the Madhumalati
or Sweet Jasmine. She was very beautiful. Whence did the gods procure
the materials to form so exquisite a face? They took a portion of the
most excellent part of the moon to form that beautiful face! Does
any one seek a proof of this? Let him look at the empty places left
in the moon. Her eyes resembled the full-blown blue nymphæa; her
arms the charming stalk of the lotus; her flowing tresses the thick
darkness of night.
When this lovely person arrived at a marriageable age, her mother,
father, and brother, all three became very anxious about her. For
the wise have said, ‘A daughter nubile but without husband is ever
a calamity hanging over a house.’ And, ‘Kings, women, and climbing
plants love those who are near them.’ Also, ‘Who is there that
has not suffered from the sex? for a woman cannot be kept in due
subjection, either by gifts or kindness, or correct conduct, or the
greatest services, or the laws of morality, or by the terror of
punishment, for she cannot discriminate between good and evil.’
It so happened that one day Keshav the Brahman went to the marriage
of a certain customer of his,[118] and his son repaired to the house
of a spiritual preceptor in order to read. During their absence,
a young man came to the house, when the Sweet Jasmine’s mother,
inferring his good qualities from his good looks, said to him, ‘I
will give to thee my daughter in marriage.’ The father also had
promised his daughter to a Brahman youth whom he had met at the house
of his employer; and the brother likewise had betrothed his sister to
a fellow student at the place where he had gone to read.
[118] A village Brahman on stated occasions receives fees from
all the villagers.
After some days father and son came home, accompanied by these two
suitors, and in the house a third was already seated. The name of
the first was Tribikram, of the second Baman, and of the third
Madhusadan. The three were equal in mind and body, in knowledge, and
in age.
Then the father, looking upon them, said to himself, ‘Ho! there is
one bride and three bridegrooms; to whom shall I give, and to whom
shall I not give? We three have pledged our word to these three. A
strange circumstance has occurred; what must we do?’
He then proposed to them a trial of wisdom, and made them agree that
he who should quote the most excellent saying of the wise should
become his daughter’s husband.
Quoth Tribikram: ‘Courage is tried in war; integrity in the payment
of debt and interest; friendship in distress; and the faithfulness of
a wife in the day of poverty.’
Baman proceeded: ‘That woman is destitute of virtue who in her
father’s house is not in subjection, who wanders to feasts and
amusements, who throws off her veil in the presence of men, who
remains as a guest in the houses of strangers, who is much devoted to
sleep, who drinks inebriating beverages, and who delights in distance
from her husband.’
‘Let none,’ pursued Madhusadan, ‘confide in the sea, nor in whatever
has claws or horns, or who carries deadly weapons; neither in a
woman, nor in a king.’
Whilst the Brahman was doubting which to prefer, and rather inclining
to the latter sentiment, a serpent bit the beautiful girl, and in a
few hours she died.
Stunned by this awful sudden death, the father and the three suitors
sat for a time motionless. They then arose, used great exertions,
and brought all kinds of sorcerers, wise men and women who charm
away poisons by incantations. These having seen the girl said, ‘She
cannot return to life.’ The first declared, ‘A person always dies
who has been bitten by a snake on the fifth, sixth, eighth, ninth,
and fourteenth days of the lunar month.’ The second asserted, ‘One
who has been bitten on a Saturday or a Tuesday does not survive.’
The third opined, ‘Poison infused during certain six lunar mansions
cannot be got under.’ Quoth the fourth, ‘One who has been bitten
in any organ of sense, the lower lip, the cheek, the neck, or the
stomach, cannot escape death.’ The fifth said, ‘In this case even
Brahma, the Creator, could not restore life—of what account, then,
are we? Do you perform the funeral rites; we will depart.’
Thus saying, the sorcerers went their way. The mourning father took
up his daughter’s corpse and caused it to be burnt, in the place
where dead bodies are usually burnt, and returned to his house.
After that the three young men said to one another, ‘We must now seek
happiness elsewhere. And what better can we do than obey the words of
Indra, the God of Air, who spake thus?—
‘“For a man who does not travel about there is no felicity, and a
good man who stays at home is a bad man. Indra is the friend of him
who travels. Travel!
‘“A traveller’s legs are like blossoming branches, and he himself
grows and gathers the fruit. All his wrongs vanish, destroyed by his
exertion on the roadside. Travel!
‘“The fortune of a man who sits, sits also; it rises when he rises;
it sleeps when he sleeps; it moves well when he moves. Travel!
‘“A man who sleeps is like the Iron Age. A man who awakes is like
the Bronze Age. A man who rises up is like the Silver Age. A man who
travels is like the Golden Age. Travel!
‘“A traveller finds honey; a traveller finds sweet figs. Look at the
happiness of the sun, who travelling never tires. Travel!”’
Before parting they divided the relics of the beloved one, and then
they went their way.
Tribikram, having separated and tied up the burnt bones, became one
of the Vaisheshikas, in those days a powerful sect. He solemnly
forswore the eight great crimes, namely: feeding at night; slaying
any animal; eating the fruit of trees that give milk, or pumpkins
or young bamboos; tasting honey or flesh; plundering the wealth of
others; taking by force a married woman; eating flowers, butter,
or cheese; and worshipping the gods of other religions. He learned
that the highest act of virtue is to abstain from doing injury to
sentient creatures; that crime does not justify the destruction of
life; and that kings, as the administrators of criminal justice,
are the greatest of sinners. He professed the five vows of total
abstinence from falsehood, eating flesh or fish, theft, drinking
spirits, and marriage. He bound himself to possess nothing beyond a
white loin-cloth, a towel to wipe the mouth, a beggar’s dish, and a
brush of woollen threads to sweep the ground for fear of treading on
insects. And he was ordered to fear secular affairs; the miseries of
a future state; the receiving from others more than the food of a day
at once; all accidents; provisions, if connected with the destruction
of animal life; death and disgrace; also to please all, and to obtain
compassion from all.
He attempted to banish his love. He said to himself, ‘Surely it
was owing only to my pride and selfishness that I ever looked upon
a woman as capable of affording happiness; and I thought, “Ah! ah!
thine eyes roll about like the tail of the water-wagtail, thy lips
resemble the ripe fruit, thy bosom is like the lotus buds, thy form
is resplendent as gold melted in a crucible, the moon wanes through
desire to imitate the shadow of thy face, thou resemblest the
pleasure-house of Cupid; the happiness of all time is concentrated in
thee; a touch from thee would surely give life to a dead image; at
thy approach a living admirer would be changed by joy into a lifeless
stone; obtaining thee I can face all the horrors of war; and were I
pierced by showers of arrows, one glance of thee would heal all my
wounds.”
‘My mind is now averted from the world. Seeing her I say, “Is this
the form by which men are bewitched? This is a basket covered with
skin; it contains bones, flesh, blood, and impurities. The stupid
creature who is captivated by this—is there a cannibal feeding in
Currim a greater cannibal than he? These persons call a thing made up
of impure matter a face, and drink its charms as a drunkard swallows
the inebriating liquor from his cup. The blind, infatuated beings!
Why should I be pleased or displeased with this body, composed
of flesh and blood? It is my duty to seek Him who is the Lord of
this body, and to disregard everything which gives rise either to
pleasure or to pain.’
[Illustration: Baman, the second suitor, tied up a bundle and
followed.]
Baman, the second suitor, tied up a bundle of his beloved one’s
ashes, and followed—somewhat prematurely—the precepts of the
great lawgiver Manu. ‘When the father of a family perceives his
muscles becoming flaccid, and his hair grey, and sees the child of
his child, let him then take refuge in a forest. Let him take up
his consecrated fire and all his domestic implements for making
oblations to it, and, departing from the town to the lonely wood, let
him dwell in it with complete power over his organs of sense and of
action. With many sorts of pure food, such as holy sages used to eat,
with green herbs, roots, and fruit, let him perform the five great
sacraments, introducing them with due ceremonies. Let him wear a
black antelope-hide, or a vesture of bark; let him bathe evening and
morning; let him suffer the hair of his head, his beard and his nails
to grow continually. Let him slide backwards and forwards on the
ground; or let him stand a whole day on tiptoe; or let him continue
in motion, rising and sitting alternately; but at sunrise, at noon,
and at sunset, let him go to the waters and bathe. In the hot season
let him sit exposed to five fires, four blazing around him, with
the sun above; in the rains, let him stand uncovered, without even
a mantle, where the clouds pour the heaviest showers; in the cold
season let him wear damp clothes, and let him increase by degrees the
austerity of his devotions. Then, having reposited his holy fires, as
the law directs, in his mind, let him live without external fire,
without a mansion, wholly silent, feeding on roots and fruit.’
[Illustration: Meanwhile Madhusadan, the third, became a Jogi.]
Meanwhile Madhusadan the third, having taken a wallet and neckband,
became a Jogi, and began to wander far and wide, living on nothing
but chaff, and practising his devotions. In order to see Bramha he
attended to the following duties: 1. Hearing; 2. Meditation; 3.
Fixing the Mind; 4. Absorbing the Mind. He combated the three evils,
restlessness, injuriousness, voluptuousness, by settling the Deity
in his spirit, by subjecting his senses, and by destroying desire.
Thus he would do away with the illusion (Maya) which conceals all
true knowledge. He repeated the name of the Deity till it appeared
to him in the form of a Dry Light or glory. Though connected with
the affairs of life, that is, with affairs belonging to a body
containing blood, bones, and impurities; to organs which are blind,
palsied, and full of weakness and error; to a mind filled with
thirst, hunger, sorrow, infatuation; to confirmed habits, and to the
fruits of former births: still he strove not to view these things as
realities. He made a companion of a dog, honouring it with his own
food, so as the better to think on spirit. He practised all the five
operations connected with the vital air, or air collected in the
body. He attended much to Pranayama, or the gradual suppression of
breathing, and he secured fixedness of mind as follows. By placing
his sight and thoughts on the tip of his nose he perceived smell; on
the tip of his tongue he realised taste, on the root of his tongue
he knew sound, and so forth. He practised the eighty-four Asana or
postures, raising his hand to the wonders of the heavens, till he
felt no longer the inconveniences of heat or cold, hunger or thirst.
He particularly preferred the Padma or lotus-posture which consists
of bringing the feet to the sides, holding the right in the left hand
and the left in the right. In the work of suppressing his breath
he permitted its respiration to reach at furthest twelve fingers’
breadth, and gradually diminished the distance from his nostrils till
he could confine it to the length of twelve fingers from his nose,
and even after restraining it for some time he would draw it from no
greater distance than from his heart. As respects time, he began by
retaining inspiration for twenty-six seconds, and he enlarged this
period gradually till he became perfect. He sat cross-legged, closing
with his fingers all the avenues of inspiration, and he practised
Prityahara, or the power of restraining the members of the body and
mind, with meditation and concentration, to which there are four
enemies, viz. a sleepy heart, human passions, a confused mind, and
attachment to anything but the one Bramha. He also cultivated Yama,
that is, inoffensiveness, truth, honesty, the forsaking of all evil
in the world, and the refusal of gifts except for sacrifice, and
Nihama, i.e. purity relative to the use of water after defilement,
pleasure in everything whether in prosperity or adversity, renouncing
food when hungry, and keeping down the body. Thus delivered from
these four enemies of the flesh, he resembled the unruffled flame of
the lamp, and by Bramhagnana, or meditating on the Deity, placing his
mind on the sun, moon, fire, or any other luminous body, or within
his heart, or at the bottom of his throat, or in the centre of his
skull, he was enabled to ascend from gross images of omnipotence to
the works and the divine wisdom of the glorious original.
One day Madhusadan, the Jogi, went to a certain house for food, and
the householder having seen him began to say, ‘Be so good as to
take your food here this day!’ The visitor sat down, and when the
victuals were ready, the host caused his feet and hands to be washed,
and leading him to the Chauka, or square place upon which meals are
served, seated him and sat by him. And he quoted the scripture:
‘No guest must be dismissed in the evening by a housekeeper: he is
sent by the returning sun, and whether he come in fit season or
unseasonably, he must not sojourn in the house without entertainment:
let me not eat any delicate food, without asking my guest to
partake of it: the satisfaction of a guest will assuredly bring the
housekeeper wealth, reputation, long life, and a place in heaven.’
[Illustration: The householder’s wife came to serve up the food, rice
and split peas.]
The householder’s wife then came to serve up the food, rice and
split peas, oil, and spices, all cooked in a new earthen pot with
pure firewood. Part of the meal was served and the rest remained to
be served, when the woman’s little child began to cry aloud and to
catch hold of its mother’s dress. She endeavoured to release herself,
but the boy would not let go, and the more she coaxed the more he
cried, and was obstinate. On this the mother became angry, took up
the boy and threw him upon the fire, which instantly burnt him to
ashes.
Madhusadan, the Jogi, seeing this, rose up without eating. The
master of the house said to him, ‘Why eatest thou not?’ He replied,
‘I am “Atithi,” that is to say, to be entertained at your house,
but how can one eat under the roof of a person who has committed
such a Rakshasa-like (devilish) deed? Is it not said, “He who does
not govern his passions, lives in vain?” “A foolish king, a person
puffed up with riches, and a weak child, desire that which cannot be
procured.” Also, “A king destroys his enemies, even when flying; and
the touch of an elephant, as well as the breath of a serpent, are
fatal; but the wicked destroy even while laughing.”’
Hearing this, the householder smiled; presently he arose and went
to another part of the tenement, and brought back with him a book,
treating on Sanjivnividya, or the science of restoring the dead to
life. This he had taken from its hidden place, two beams almost
touching one another with the ends in the opposite wall. The
precious volume was in single leaves, some six inches broad by treble
that length, and the paper was stained with yellow orpiment and the
juice of tamarind seeds to keep away insects.
The householder opened the cloth containing the book, untied the flat
boards at the top and bottom, and took out from it a charm. Having
repeated this Mantra, with many ceremonies he at once restored the
child to life, saying, ‘Of all precious things, knowledge is the most
valuable; other riches may be stolen, or diminished by expenditure,
but knowledge is immortal, and the greater the expenditure the
greater the increase; it can be shared with none, and it defies the
power of the thief.’