affectionately. They then began to talk of matters nearest their hearts.
The Raja’s son wondered at seeing the jaded and haggard looks of his
companion, who did not disguise that they were caused by his anxiety as
to what might have happened to his friend at the hand of so talented and
so superior a princess. Upon which Vajramukut, who now thought Padmavati
an angel, and his late abode a heaven, remarked with formality--and two
blunders to one quotation--that abilities properly directed win for a
man the happiness of both worlds.
The pradhan’s son rolled his head.
“Again on your hobby-horse, nagging at talent whenever you find it in
others!” cried the young prince with a pun, which would have delighted
Padmavati. “Surely you are jealous of her!” he resumed, anything but
pleased with the dead silence that had received his joke; “jealous of
her cleverness, and of her love for me. She is the very best creature
in the world. Even you, woman-hater as you are, would own it if you only
knew all the kind messages she sent, and the little pleasant surprise
that she has prepared for you. There! take and eat; they are made by her
own dear hands!” cried the young Raja, producing the sweetmeats. “As she
herself taught me to say--
Thank God I am a man,
Not a philosopher!”
“The kind messages she sent me! The pleasant surprise she has prepared
for me!” repeated the minister’s son in a hard, dry tone. “My lord will
be pleased to tell me how she heard of my name?”
“I was sitting one night,” replied the prince, “in anxious thought about
you, when at that moment the princess coming in and seeing my condition,
asked, ‘Why are you thus sad? Explain the cause to me.’ I then gave
her an account of your cleverness, and when she heard it she gave me
permission to go and see you, and sent these sweetmeats for you: eat
them and I shall be pleased.”
“Great king!” rejoined the young statesman, “one thing vouchsafe to
hear from me. You have not done well in that you have told my name.
You should never let a woman think that your left hand knows the secret
which she confided to your right, much less that you have shared it to
a third person. Secondly, you did evil in allowing her to see the
affection with which you honour your unworthy servant--a woman ever
hates her lover’s or husband’s friend.”
“What could I do?” rejoined the young Raja, in a querulous tone of
voice. “When I love a woman I like to tell her everything--to have no
secrets from her--to consider her another self----”
“Which habit,” interrupted the pradhan’s son, “you will lose when you
are a little older, when you recognize the fact that love is nothing but
a bout, a game of skill between two individuals of opposite sexes: the
one seeking to gain as much, and the other striving to lose as little as
possible; and that the sharper of the twain thus met on the chessboard
must, in the long run, win. And reticence is but a habit. Practise it
for a year, and you will find it harder to betray than to conceal your
thoughts. It hath its joy also. Is there no pleasure, think you, when
suppressing an outbreak of tender but fatal confidence in saying to
yourself, ‘O, if she only knew this?’ ‘O, if she did but suspect that?’
Returning, however, to the sugar-plums, my life to a pariah’s that they
are poisoned!”
“Impossible!” exclaimed the prince, horror-struck at the thought;
“what you say, surely no one ever could do. If a mortal fears not his
fellow-mortal, at least he dreads the Deity.”
“I never yet knew,” rejoined the other, “what a woman in love does fear.
However, prince, the trial is easy. Come here, Muti!” cried he to the
old woman’s dog, “and off with thee to that three-headed kinsman of
thine, that attends upon his amiable-looking master.[67]”
Having said this, he threw one of the sweetmeats to the dog; the animal
ate it, and presently writhing and falling down, died.
“The wretch! O the wretch!” cried Vajramukut, transported with wonder
and anger. “And I loved her! But now it is all over. I dare not
associate with such a calamity!”
“What has happened, my lord, has happened!” quoth the minister’s son
calmly. “I was prepared for something of this kind from so talented a
princess. None commit such mistakes, such blunders, such follies as your
clever women; they cannot even turn out a crime decently executed. O
give me dulness with one idea, one aim, one desire. O thrice blessed
dulness that combines with happiness, power.”
This time Vajramukut did not defend talent.
“And your slave did his best to warn you against perfidy. But now my
heart is at rest. I have tried her strength. She has attempted and
failed; the defeat will prevent her attempting again--just yet. But let
me ask you to put to yourself one question. Can you be happy without
her?”
“Brother!” replied the prince, after a pause, “I cannot”; and he blushed
as he made the avowal.
“Well,” replied the other, “better confess then conceal that fact;
we must now meet her on the battle-field, and beat her at her own
weapons--cunning. I do not willingly begin treachery with women,
because, in the first place, I don’t like it; and secondly, I know that
they will certainly commence practicing it upon me, after which I hold
myself justified in deceiving them. And probably this will be a good
wife; remember that she intended to poison me, not you. During the last
month my fear has been lest my prince had run into the tiger’s brake.
Tell me, my lord, when does the princess expect you to return to her?”
“She bade me,” said the young Raja, “not to return till my mind was
quite at ease upon the subject of my talented friend.”
“This means that she expects you back to-morrow night, as you cannot
enter the palace before. And now I will retire to my cot, as it is there
that I am wont to ponder over my plans. Before dawn my thought shall
mature one which must place the beautiful Padmavati in your power.”
“A word before parting,” exclaimed the prince “you know my father has
already chosen a spouse for me; what will he say if I bring home a
second?”
“In my humble opinion,” said the minister’s son rising to retire, “woman
is a monogamous, man a polygamous, creature, a fact scarcely established
in physiological theory, but very observable in every-day practice. For
what said the poet?--
Divorce, friend! Re-wed thee! The spring draweth near,[68]
And a wife’s but an almanac--good for the year.
If your royal father say anything to you, refer him to what he himself
does.”
Reassured by these words, Vajramukut bade his friend a cordial
good-night and sought his cot, where he slept soundly, despite the
emotions of the last few hours. The next day passed somewhat slowly. In
the evening, when accompanying his master to the palace, the minister’s
son gave him the following directions.
“Our object, dear my lord, is how to obtain possession of the princess.
Take, then, this trident, and hide it carefully when you see her show
the greatest love and affection. Conceal what has happened, and when
she, wondering at your calmness, asks about me, tell her that last night
I was weary and out of health, that illness prevented my eating her
sweetmeats, but that I shall eat them for supper to-night. When she goes
to sleep, then, taking off her jewels and striking her left leg with the
trident, instantly come away to me. But should she lie awake, rub upon
your thumb a little of this--do not fear, it is only a powder of
grubs fed on verdigris--and apply it to her nostrils. It would make an
elephant senseless, so be careful how you approach it to your own face.”
Vajramukut embraced his friend, and passed safely through the palace
gate. He found Padmavati awaiting him; she fell upon his bosom and
looked into his eyes, and deceived herself, as clever women will do.
Overpowered by her joy and satisfaction, she now felt certain that
her lover was hers eternally, and that her treachery had not been
discovered; so the beautiful princess fell into a deep sleep.
Then Vajramukut lost no time in doing as the minister’s son had advised,
and slipped out of the room, carrying off Padmavati’s jewels and
ornaments. His counsellor having inspected them, took up a sack and made
signs to his master to follow him. Leaving the horses and baggage at
the nurse’s house, they walked to a burning-place outside the city. The
minister’s son there buried his dress, together with that of the prince,
and drew from the sack the costume of a religious ascetic: he assumed
this himself, and gave to his companion that of a disciple. Then quoth
the guru (spiritual preceptor) to his chela (pupil), “Go, youth, to the
bazar, and sell these jewels, remembering to let half the jewellers in
the place see the things, and if any one lay hold of thee, bring him to
me.”
Upon which, as day had dawned, Vajramukut carried the princess’s
ornaments to the market, and entering the nearest goldsmith’s shop,
offered to sell them, and asked what they were worth. As your majesty
well knows, gardeners, tailors, and goldsmiths are proverbially
dishonest, and this man was no exception to the rule. He looked at the
pupil’s face and wondered, because he had brought articles whose value
he did not appear to know. A thought struck him that he might make a
bargain which would fill his coffers, so he offered about a thousandth
part of the price. This the pupil rejected, because he wished the affair
to go further. Then the goldsmith, seeing him about to depart, sprang up
and stood in the door way, threatening to call the officers of justice
if the young man refused to give up the valuables which he said had
lately been stolen from his shop. As the pupil only laughed at this,
the goldsmith thought seriously of executing his threat, hesitating only
because he knew that the officers of justice would gain more than he
could by that proceeding. As he was still in doubt a shadow darkened
his shop, and in entered the chief jeweller of the city. The moment the
ornaments were shown to him he recognized them, and said, “These jewels
belong to Raja Dantawat’s daughter; I know them well, as I set them only
a few months ago!” Then he turned to the disciple, who still held the
valuables in his hand, and cried, “Tell me truly whence you received
them?”
While they were thus talking, a crowd of ten or twenty persons had
collected, and at length the report reached the superintendent of the
archers. He sent a soldier to bring before him the pupil, the goldsmith,
and the chief jeweller, together with the ornaments. And when all were
in the hall of justice, he looked at the jewels and said to the young
man, “Tell me truly, whence have you obtained these?”
“My spiritual preceptor,” said Vajramukut, pretending great fear, “who
is now worshipping in the cemetery outside the town, gave me these white
stones, with an order to sell them. How know I whence he obtained them?
Dismiss me, my lord, for I am an innocent man.”
“Let the ascetic be sent for,” commanded the kotwal.[69] Then, having
taken both of them, along with the jewels, into the presence of King
Dantawat, he related the whole circumstances.
“Master,” said the king on hearing the statement, “whence have you
obtained these jewels?”
The spiritual preceptor, before deigning an answer, pulled from under
his arm the hide of a black antelope, which he spread out and smoothed
deliberately before using it as an asan.[70] He then began to finger a
rosary of beads each as large as an egg, and after spending nearly an
hour in mutterings and in rollings of the head, he looked fixedly at the
Raja, and repined:
“By Shiva! great king, they are mine own. On the fourteenth of the dark
half of the moon at night, I had gone into a place where dead bodies are
burned, for the purpose of accomplishing a witch’s incantation. After
long and toilsome labour she appeared, but her demeanour was so unruly
that I was forced to chastise her. I struck her with this, my trident,
on the left leg, if memory serves me. As she continued to be refractory,
in order to punish her I took off all her jewels and clothes, and told
her to go where she pleased. Even this had little effect upon her--never
have I looked upon so perverse a witch. In this way the jewels came into
my possession.”
Raja Dantawat was stunned by these words. He begged the ascetic not
to leave the palace for a while, and forthwith walked into the private
apartments of the women. Happening first to meet the queen dowager,
he said to her, “Go, without losing a minute, O my mother, and look at
Padmavati’s left leg, and see if there is a mark or not, and what sort
of a mark!” Presently she returned, and coming to the king said, “Son,
I find thy daughter lying upon her bed, and complaining that she has met
with an accident; and indeed Padmavati must be in great pain. I found
that some sharp instrument with three points had wounded her. The girl
says that a nail hurt her, but I never yet heard of a nail making
three holes. However, we must all hasten, or there will be erysipelas,
tumefaction, gangrene, mortification, amputation, and perhaps death
in the house,” concluded the old queen, hurrying away in the pleasing
anticipation of these ghastly consequences.
For a moment King Dantawat’s heart was ready to break. But he was
accustomed to master his feelings; he speedily applied the reins of
reflection to the wild steed of passion. He thought to himself, “the
affairs of one’s household, the intentions of one’s heart, and whatever
one’s losses may be, should not be disclosed to any one. Since Padmavati
is a witch, she is no longer my daughter. I will verily go forth and
consult the spiritual preceptor.”
With these words the king went outside, where the guru was still sitting
upon his black hide, making marks with his trident on the floor. Having
requested that the pupil might be sent away, and having cleared the
room, he said to the jogi, “O holy man! what punishment for the heinous
crime of witchcraft is awarded to a woman in the Dharma-Shastra [71]?”
“Great king!” replied the devotee, “in the Dharma Shastra it is thus
written: ‘If a Brahman, a cow, a woman, a child, or any other person
whatsoever who may be dependent on us, should be guilty of a perfidious
act, their punishment is that they be banished the country.’ However
much they may deserve death, we must not spill their blood, as
Lakshmi[72] flies in horror from the deed.”
Hearing these words the Raja dismissed the guru with many thanks and
large presents. He waited till nightfall and then ordered a band of
trusty men to seize Padmavati without alarming the household, and to
carry her into a distant jungle full of fiends, tigers, and bears, and
there to abandon her.
In the meantime, the ascetic and his pupil hurrying to the cemetery
resumed their proper dresses; they then went to the old nurse’s house,
rewarded her hospitality till she wept bitterly, girt on their weapons,
and mounting their horses, followed the party which issued from the gate
of King Dantawat’s palace. And it may easily be believed that they found
little difficulty in persuading the poor girl to exchange her chance in
the wild jungle for the prospect of becoming Vajramukut’s wife--lawfully
wedded at Benares. She did not even ask if she was to have a rival in
the house,--a question which women, you know, never neglect to put
under usual circumstances. After some days the two pilgrims of one love
arrived at the house of their fathers, and to all, both great and small,
excess in joy came.
“Now, Raja Vikram!” said the Baital, “you have not spoken much;
doubtless you are engrossed by the interest of a story wherein a man
beats a woman at her own weapon--deceit. But I warn you that you will
assuredly fall into Narak (the infernal regions) if you do not make
up your mind upon and explain this matter. Who was the most to blame
amongst these four? the lover[73] the lover’s friend, the girl, or the
father?”
“For my part I think Padmavati was the worst, she being at the bottom of
all their troubles,” cried Dharma Dhwaj. The king said something about
young people and the two senses of seeing and hearing, but his son’s
sentiment was so sympathetic that he at once pardoned the interruption.
At length, determined to do justice despite himself, Vikram said, “Raja
Dantawat is the person most at fault.”
“In what way was he at fault?” asked the Baital curiously.
King Vikram gave him this reply: “The Prince Vajramukut being tempted of
the love-god was insane, and therefore not responsible for his actions.
The minister’s son performed his master’s business obediently, without
considering causes or asking questions--a very excellent quality in a
dependent who is merely required to do as he is bid. With respect to the
young woman, I have only to say that she was a young woman, and thereby
of necessity a possible murderess. But the Raja, a prince, a man of a
certain age and experience, a father of eight! He ought never to have
been deceived by so shallow a trick, nor should he, without reflection,
have banished his daughter from the country.”
“Gramercy to you!” cried the Vampire, bursting into a discordant shout
of laughter, “I now return to my tree. By my tail! I never yet heard a
Raja so readily condemn a Raja.” With these words he slipped out of the
cloth, leaving it to hang empty over the great king’s shoulder.
Vikram stood for a moment, fixed to the spot with blank dismay.
Presently, recovering himself, he retraced his steps, followed by his
son, ascended the sires-tree, tore down the Baital, packed him up as
before, and again set out upon his way.
Soon afterwards a voice sounded behind the warrior king’s back, and
began to tell another true story.
THE VAMPIRE’S SECOND STORY -- Of the Relative Villany of Men and Women.
In the great city of Bhogavati dwelt, once upon a time, a young prince,
concerning whom I may say that he strikingly resembled this amiable son
of your majesty.
Raja Vikram was silent, nor did he acknowledge the Baital’s indirect
compliment. He hated flattery, but he liked, when flattered, to be
flattered in his own person; a feature in their royal patron’s character
which the Nine Gems of Science had turned to their own account.
Now the young prince Raja Ram (continued the tale teller) had an old
father, concerning whom I may say that he was exceedingly unlike your
Rajaship, both as a man and as a parent. He was fond of hunting, dicing,
sleeping by day, drinking at night, and eating perpetual tonics, while
he delighted in the idleness of watching nautch girls, and the vanity of
falling in love. But he was adored by his children because he took the
trouble to win their hearts. He did not lay it down as a law of heaven
that his offspring would assuredly go to Patala if they neglected the
duty of bestowing upon him without cause all their affections, as your
moral, virtuous, and highly respectable fathers are only too apt----.
Aie! Aie!
These sounds issued from the Vampire’s lips as the warrior king,
speechless with wrath, passed his hand behind his back, and viciously
twisted up a piece of the speaker’s skin. This caused the Vampire to
cry aloud, more however, it would appear, in derision than in real
suffering, for he presently proceeded with the same subject.
Fathers, great king, may be divided into three kinds; and be it said
aside, that mothers are the same. Firstly, we have the parent of many
ideas, amusing, pleasant, of course poor, and the idol of his children.
Secondly, there is the parent with one idea and a half. This sort of man
would, in your place, say to himself, “That demon fellow speaks a manner
of truth. I am not above learning from him, despite his position in
life. I will carry out his theory, just to see how far it goes”; and so
saying, he wends his way home, and treats his young ones with prodigious
kindness for a time, but it is not lasting. Thirdly, there is the real
one-idea’d type of parent-yourself, O warrior king Vikram, an admirable
example. You learn in youth what you are taught: for instance, the
blessed precept that the green stick is of the trees of Paradise; and
in age you practice what you have learned. You cannot teach yourselves
anything before your beards sprout, and when they grow stiff you cannot
be taught by others. If any one attempt to change your opinions you cry,
What is new is not true,
What is true is not new.
and you rudely pull his hand from the subject. Yet have you your uses
like other things of earth. In life you are good working camels for the
mill-track, and when you die your ashes are not worse compost than those
of the wise.
Your Rajaship will observe (continued the Vampire, as Vikram began
to show symptoms of ungovernable anger) that I have been concise in
treating this digression. Had I not been so, it would have led me far
indeed from my tale. Now to return.
When the old king became air mixed with air, the young king, though he
found hardly ten pieces of silver in the paternal treasury and legacies
for thousands of golden ounces, yet mourned his loss with the deepest
grief. He easily explained to himself the reckless emptiness of the
royal coffers as a proof of his dear kind parent’s goodness, because he
loved him.
But the old man had left behind him, as he could not carry it off with
him, a treasure more valuable than gold and silver: one Churaman, a
parrot, who knew the world, and who besides discoursed in the most
correct Sanscrit. By sage counsel and wise guidance this admirable bird
soon repaired his young master’s shattered fortunes.
One day the prince said, “Parrot, thou knowest everything: tell me
where there is a mate fit for me. The shastras inform us, respecting
the choice of a wife, ‘She who is not descended from his paternal or
maternal ancestors within the sixth degree is eligible by a high
caste man for nuptials. In taking a wife let him studiously avoid the
following families, be they ever so great, or ever so rich in kine,
goats, sheep, gold, or grain: the family which has omitted prescribed
acts of devotion; that which has produced no male children; that in
which the Veda (scripture) has not been read; that which has thick hair
on the body; and that in which members have been subject to hereditary
disease. Let a person choose for his wife a girl whose person has no
defect; who has an agreeable name; who walks gracefully, like a young
elephant; whose hair and teeth are moderate in quantity and in size; and
whose body is of exquisite softness.’”
“Great king,” responded the parrot Churaman, “there is in the country
of Magadh a Raja, Magadheshwar by name, and he has a daughter called
Chandravati. You will marry her; she is very learned, and, what is
better far, very fait. She is of yellow colour, with a nose like the
flower of the sesamum; her legs are taper, like the plantain-tree; her
eyes are large, like the principal leaf of the lotus; her eye-brows
stretch towards her ears; her lips are red, like the young leaves of the
mango-tree; her face is like the full moon; her voice is like the sound
of the cuckoo; her arms reach to her knees; her throat is like the
pigeon’s; her flanks are thin, like those of the lion; her hair hangs
in curls only down to her waist; her teeth are like the seeds of the
pomegranate; and her gait is that of the drunken elephant or the goose.”
On hearing the parrot’s speech, the king sent for an astrologer, and
asked him, “Whom shall I marry?” The wise man, having consulted his art,
replied, “Chandravati is the name of the maiden, and your marriage with
her will certainly take place.” Thereupon the young Raja, though he had
never seen his future queen, became incontinently enamoured of her. He
summoned a Brahman, and sent him to King Magadheshwar, saying, “If you
arrange satisfactorily this affair of our marriage we will reward you
amply”--a promise which lent wings to the priest.
Now it so happened that this talented and beautiful princess had
a jay,[74] whose name was Madan-manjari or Love-garland. She also
possessed encyclopaedic knowledge after her degree, and, like the
parrot, she spoke excellent Sanscrit.
Be it briefly said, O warrior king-for you think that I am talking
fables--that in the days of old, men had the art of making birds
discourse in human language. The invention is attributed to a great
philosopher, who split their tongues, and after many generations
produced a selected race born with those members split. He altered the
shapes of their skulls by fixing ligatures behind the occiput, which
caused the sinciput to protrude, their eyes to become prominent, and
their brains to master the art of expressing thoughts in words.