generally, had in it a terrible practical flaw The birds beginning to
speak, spoke wisely and so well, they told the truth so persistently,
they rebuked their brethren of the featherless skins so openly, they
flattered them so little and they counselled them so much, that mankind
presently grew tired of hearing them discourse. Thus the art gradually
fell into desuetude, and now it is numbered with the things that were.
One day the charming Princess Chandravati was sitting in confidential
conversation with her jay. The dialogue was not remarkable, for maidens
in all ages seldom consult their confidantes or speculate upon the
secrets of futurity, or ask to have dreams interpreted, except upon one
subject. At last the princess said, for perhaps the hundredth time that
month, “Where, O jay, is there a husband worthy of me?”
“Princess,” replied Madan-manjari, “I am happy at length to be able
as willing to satisfy your just curiosity. For just it is, though the
delicacy of our sex--”
“Now, no preaching!” said the maiden; “or thou shalt have salt instead
of sugar for supper.”
Jays, your Rajaship, are fond of sugar. So the confidante retained a
quantity of good advice which she was about to produce, and replied,
“I now see clearly the ways of Fortune. Raja Ram, king of Bhogavati, is
to be thy husband. He shall be happy in thee and thou in him, for he is
young and handsome, rich and generous, good-tempered, not too clever,
and without a chance of being an invalid.”
Thereupon the princess, although she had never seen her future husband,
at once began to love him. In fact, though neither had set eyes upon the
other, both were mutually in love.
“How can that be, sire?” asked the young Dharma Dhwaj of his father. “I
always thought that--”
The great Vikram interrupted his son, and bade him not to ask silly
questions. Thus he expected to neutralize the evil effects of the
Baital’s doctrine touching the amiability of parents unlike himself.
Now, as both these young people (resumed the Baital) were of princely
family and well to do in the world, the course of their love was
unusually smooth. When the Brahman sent by Raja Ram had reached Magadh,
and had delivered his King’s homage to the Raja Magadheshwar, the latter
received him with distinction, and agreed to his proposal. The beautiful
princess’s father sent for a Brahman of his own, and charging him with
nuptial gifts and the customary presents, sent him back to Bhogavati in
company with the other envoy, and gave him this order, “Greet Raja Ram,
on my behalf, and after placing the tilak or mark upon his forehead,
return here with all speed. When you come back I will get all things
ready for the marriage.”
Raja Ram, on receiving the deputation, was greatly pleased, and
after generously rewarding the Brahmans and making all the necessary
preparations, he set out in state for the land of Magadha, to claim his
betrothed.
In due season the ceremony took place with feasting and bands of
music, fireworks and illuminations, rehearsals of scripture, songs,
entertainments, processions, and abundant noise. And hardly had the
turmeric disappeared from the beautiful hands and feet of the bride,
when the bridegroom took an affectionate leave of his new parents--he
had not lived long in the house--and receiving the dowry and the bridal
gifts, set out for his own country.
Chandravati was dejected by leaving her mother, and therefore she
was allowed to carry with her the jay, Madanmanian. She soon told her
husband the wonderful way in which she had first heard his name, and
he related to her the advantage which he had derived from confabulation
with Churaman, his parrot.
“Then why do we not put these precious creatures into one cage,
after marrying them according to the rites of the angelic marriage
(Gandharva-lagana)?” said the charming queen. Like most brides, she was
highly pleased to find an opportunity of making a match.
“Ay! why not, love? Surely they cannot live happy in what the world
calls single blessedness,” replied the young king. As bridegrooms
sometimes are for a short time, he was very warm upon the subject of
matrimony.
Thereupon, without consulting the parties chiefly concerned in their
scheme, the master and mistress, after being comfortably settled at the
end of their journey, caused a large cage to be brought, and put into it
both their favourites.
Upon which Churaman the parrot leaned his head on one side and directed
a peculiar look at the jay. But Madan-manjari raised her beak high in
the air, puffed through it once or twice, and turned away her face in
extreme disdain.
“Perhaps,” quoth the parrot, at length breaking silence, “you will tell
me that you have no desire to be married?”
“Probably,” replied the jay.
“And why?” asked the male bird.
“Because I don’t choose,” replied the female.
“Truly a feminine form of resolution this,” ejaculated the parrot. “I
will borrow my master’s words and call it a woman’s reason, that is to
say, no reason at all. Have you any objection to be more explicit?”
“None whatever,” retorted the jay, provoked by the rude innuendo into
telling more plainly than politely exactly what she thought; “none
whatever, sir parrot. You he-things are all of you sinful, treacherous,
deceitful, selfish, devoid of conscience, and accustomed to sacrifice
us, the weaker sex, to your smallest desire or convenience.”
“Of a truth, fair lady,” quoth the young Raja Ram to his bride, “this
pet of thine is sufficiently impudent.”
“Let her words be as wind in thine ear, master,” interrupted the parrot.
“And pray, Mistress Jay, what are you she-things but treacherous, false,
ignorant, and avaricious beings, whose only wish in this world is to
prevent life being as pleasant as it might be?”
“Verily, my love,” said the beautiful Chandravati to her bridegroom,
“this thy bird has a habit of expressing his opinions in a very free and
easy way.”
“I can prove what I assert,” whispered the jay in the ear of the
princess.
“We can confound their feminine minds by an anecdote,” whispered the
parrot in the ear of the prince.
Briefly, King Vikram, it was settled between the twain that each should
establish the truth of what it had advanced by an illustration in the
form of a story.
Chandravati claimed, and soon obtained, precedence for the jay. Then the
wonderful bird, Madan-manjari, began to speak as follows:--
I have often told thee, O queen, that before coming to thy feet, my
mistress was Ratnawati, the daughter of a rich trader, the dearest, the
sweetest, the----
Here the jay burst into tears, and the mistress was sympathetically
affected. Presently the speaker resumed----
However, I anticipate. In the city of Ilapur there was a wealthy
merchant, who was without offspring; on this account he was continually
fasting and going on pilgrimage, and when at home he was ever engaged in
reading the Puranas and in giving alms to the Brahmans.
At length, by favour of the Deity, a son was born to this merchant, who
celebrated his birth with great pomp and rejoicing, and gave large gifts
to Brahmans and to bards, and distributed largely to the hungry, the
thirsty, and the poor. When the boy was five years old he had him taught
to read, and when older he was sent to a guru, who had formerly himself
been a student, and who was celebrated as teacher and lecturer.
In the course of time the merchant’s son grew up. Praise be to Brahma!
what a wonderful youth it was, with a face like a monkey’s, legs like a
stork’s, and a back like a camel’s. You know the old proverb:--
Expect thirty-two villanies from the limping, and eighty
from the one-eyed man,
But when the hunchback comes, say “Lord defend us!”
Instead of going to study, he went to gamble with other ne’er-do-weels,
to whom he talked loosely, and whom he taught to be bad-hearted as
himself. He made love to every woman, and despite his ugliness, he was
not unsuccessful. For they are equally fortunate who are very handsome
or very ugly, in so far as they are both remarkable and remarked. But
the latter bear away the palm. Beautiful men begin well with women, who
do all they can to attract them, love them as the apples of their eyes,
discover them to be fools, hold them to be their equals, deceive them,
and speedily despise them. It is otherwise with the ugly man, who, in
consequence of his homeliness, must work his wits and take pains with
himself, and become as pleasing as he is capable of being, till women
forget his ape’s face, bird’s legs, and bunchy back.
The hunchback, moreover, became a Tantri, so as to complete his
villanies. He was duly initiated by an apostate Brahman, made a
declaration that he renounced all the ceremonies of his old religion,
and was delivered from their yoke, and proceeded to perform in token
of joy an abominable rite. In company with eight men and eight women-a
Brahman female, a dancing girl, a weaver’s daughter, a woman of ill
fame, a washerwoman, a barber’s wife, a milkmaid, and the daughter of a
land-owner--choosing the darkest time of night and the most secret part
of the house, he drank with them, was sprinkled and anointed, and went
through many ignoble ceremonies, such as sitting nude upon a dead body.
The teacher informed him that he was not to indulge shame, or aversion
to anything, nor to prefer one thing to another, nor to regard caste,
ceremonial cleanness or uncleanness, but freely to enjoy all the
pleasures of sense-that is, of course, wine and us, since we are the
representatives of the wife of Cupid, and wine prevents the senses from
going astray. And whereas holy men, holding that the subjugation or
annihilation of the passions is essential to final beatitude, accomplish
this object by bodily austerities, and by avoiding temptation, he
proceeded to blunt the edge of the passions with excessive indulgence.
And he jeered at the pious, reminding them that their ascetics are safe
only in forests, and while keeping a perpetual fast; but that he could
subdue his passions in the very presence of what they most desired.
Presently this excellent youth’s father died, leaving him immense
wealth. He blunted his passions so piously and so vigorously, that in
very few years his fortune was dissipated. Then he turned towards
his neighbour’s goods and prospered for a time, till being discovered
robbing, he narrowly escaped the stake. At length he exclaimed, “Let the
gods perish! the rascals send me nothing but ill luck!” and so saying he
arose and fled from his own country.
Chance led that villain hunchback to the city of Chandrapur, where,
hearing the name of my master Hemgupt, he recollected that one of his
father’s wealthiest correspondents was so called. Thereupon, with
his usual audacity, he presented himself at the house, walked in,
and although he was clothed in tatters, introduced himself, told his
father’s name and circumstances, and wept bitterly.
The good man was much astonished, and not less grieved, to see the son
of his old friend in such woful plight. He rose up, however, embraced
the youth, and asked the reason of his coming.
“I freighted a vessel,” said the false hunchback, “for the purpose
of trading to a certain land. Having gone there, I disposed of my
merchandise, and, taking another cargo, I was on my voyage home.
Suddenly a great storm arose, and the vessel was wrecked, and I escaped
on a plank, and after a time arrived here. But I am ashamed, since I
have lost all my wealth, and I cannot show my face in this plight in my
own city. My excellent father would have consoled me with his pity. But
now that I have carried him and my mother to Ganges,[75] every one will
turn against me; they will rejoice in my misfortunes, they will accuse
me of folly and recklessness--alas! alas! I am truly miserable.”
My dear master was deceived by the cunning of the wretch. He offered him
hospitality, which was readily enough accepted, and he entertained him
for some time as a guest. Then, having reason to be satisfied with his
conduct, Hemgupt admitted him to his secrets, and finally made him a
partner in his business. Briefly, the villain played his cards so well,
that at last the merchant said to himself:
“I have had for years an anxiety and a calamity in my house. My
neighbours whisper things to my disadvantage, and those who are bolder
speak out with astonishment amongst themselves, saying, ‘At seven or
eight, people marry their daughters, and this indeed is the appointment
of the law: that period is long since gone; she is now thirteen or
fourteen years old, and she is very tall and lusty, resembling a married
woman of thirty. How can her father eat his rice with comfort and sleep
with satisfaction, whilst such a disreputable thing exists in his
house? At present he is exposed to shame, and his deceased friends are
suffering through his retaining a girl from marriage beyond the period
which nature has prescribed.’ And now, while I am sitting quietly at
home, the Bhagwan (Deity) removes all my uneasiness: by his favour such
an opportunity occurs. It is not right to delay. It is best that I shall
give my daughter in marriage to him. Whatever can be done to-day is
best; who knows what may happen to-morrow?”
Thus thinking, the old man went to his wife and said to her, “Birth,
marriage, and death are all under the direction of the gods; can anyone
say when they will be ours? We want for our daughter a young man who is
of good birth, rich and handsome, clever and honourable. But we do not
find him. If the bridegroom be faulty, thou sayest, all will go wrong.
I cannot put a string round the neck of our daughter and throw her into
the ditch. If, however, thou think well of the merchant’s son, now my
partner, we will celebrate Ratnawati’s marriage with him.”
The wife, who had been won over by the hunchback’s hypocrisy, was also
pleased, and replied, “My lord! when the Deity so plainly indicates his
wish, we should do it; since, though we have sat quietly at home, the
desire of our hearts is accomplished. It is best that no delay be made:
and, having quickly summoned the family priest, and having fixed upon a
propitious planetary conjunction, that the marriage be celebrated.”
Then they called their daughter--ah, me! what a beautiful being she was,
and worthy the love of a Gandharva (demigod). Her long hair, purple with
the light of youth, was glossy as the bramra’s[76] wing; her brow was
pure and clear as the agate; the ocean-coral looked pale beside her
lips, and her teeth were as two chaplets of pearls. Everything in her
was formed to be loved. Who could look into her eyes without wishing
to do it again? Who could hear her voice without hoping that such music
would sound once more? And she was good as she was fair. Her father
adored her; her mother, though a middle-aged woman, was not envious or
jealous of her; her relatives doted on her, and her friends could
find no fault with her. I should never end were I to tell her precious
qualities. Alas, alas! my poor Ratnawati!
So saying, the jay wept abundant tears; then she resumed:
When her parents informed my mistress of their resolution, she replied,
“Sadhu-it is well!” She was not like most young women, who hate nothing
so much as a man whom their seniors order them to love. She bowed
her head and promised obedience, although, as she afterwards told
her mother, she could hardly look at her intended, on account of his
prodigious ugliness. But presently the hunchback’s wit surmounted her
disgust. She was grateful to him for his attention to her father and
mother; she esteemed him for his moral and religious conduct; she pitied
him for his misfortunes, and she finished with forgetting his face,
legs, and back in her admiration of what she supposed to be his mind.
She had vowed before marriage faithfully to perform all the duties of a
wife, however distasteful to her they might be; but after the nuptials,
which were not long deferred, she was not surprised to find that she
loved her husband. Not only did she omit to think of his features
and figure; I verily believe that she loved him the more for his
repulsiveness. Ugly, very ugly men prevail over women for two reasons.
Firstly, we begin with repugnance, which in the course of nature turns
to affection; and we all like the most that which, when unaccustomed to
it, we most disliked. Hence the poet says, with as much truth as is in
the male:
Never despair, O man! when woman’s spite
Detests thy name and sickens at thy sight:
Sometime her heart shall learn to love thee more
For the wild hatred which it felt before, &c.
Secondly, the very ugly man appears, deceitfully enough, to think little
of his appearance, and he will give himself the trouble to pursue
a heart because he knows that the heart will not follow after him.
Moreover, we women (said the jay) are by nature pitiful, and this our
enemies term a “strange perversity.” A widow is generally disconsolate
if she loses a little, wizen-faced, shrunken shanked, ugly, spiteful,
distempered thing that scolded her and quarrelled with her, and beat her
and made her hours bitter; whereas she will follow her husband to Ganges
with exemplary fortitude if he was brave, handsome, generous----
“Either hold your tongue or go on with your story,” cried the warrior
king, in whose mind these remarks awakened disagreeable family
reflections.
“Hi! hi! hi!” laughed the demon; “I will obey your majesty, and make
Madan-manjari, the misanthropical jay, proceed.”
Yes, she loved the hunchback; and how wonderful is our love! quoth the
jay. A light from heaven which rains happiness on this dull, dark earth!
A spell falling upon the spirit, which reminds us of a higher existence!
A memory of bliss! A present delight! An earnest of future felicity!
It makes hideousness beautiful and stupidity clever, old age young and
wickedness good, moroseness amiable, and low-mindedness magnanimous,
perversity pretty and vulgarity piquant. Truly it is sovereign alchemy
and excellent flux for blending contradictions is our love, exclaimed
the jay.
And so saying, she cast a triumphant look at the parrot, who only
remarked that he could have desired a little more originality in her
remarks.
For some months (resumed Madan-manjari), the bride and the bridegroom
lived happily together in Hemgupt’s house. But it is said:
Never yet did the tiger become a lamb;
and the hunchback felt that the edge of his passions again wanted
blunting. He reflected, “Wisdom is exemption from attachment, and
affection for children, wife, and home.” Then he thus addressed my poor
young mistress:
“I have been now in thy country some years, and I have heard no tidings
of my own family, hence my mind is sad, I have told thee everything
about myself; thou must now ask thy mother leave for me to go to my own
city, and, if thou wishest, thou mayest go with me.”
Ratnawati lost no time in saying to her mother, “My husband wishes to
visit his own country; will you so arrange that he may not be pained
about this matter?”
The mother went to her husband, and said, “Your son-in-law desires leave
to go to his own country.”
Hemgupt replied, “Very well; we will grant him leave. One has no power
over another man’s son. We will do what he wishes.”
The parents then called their daughter, and asked her to tell them her
real desire-whether she would go to her father-in-law’s house, or would
remain in her mother’s home. She was abashed at this question, and could
not answer; but she went back to her husband, and said, “As my father
and mother have declared that you should do as you like, do not leave me
behind.”
Presently the merchant summoned his son-in-law, and having bestowed
great wealth upon him, allowed him to depart. He also bade his daughter
farewell, after giving her a palanquin and a female slave. And the
parents took leave of them with wailing and bitter tears; their hearts
were like to break. And so was mine.
For some days the hunchback travelled quietly along with his wife, in
deep thought. He could not take her to his city, where she would find
out his evil life, and the fraud which he had passed upon her father.
Besides which, although he wanted her money, he by no means wanted her
company for life. After turning on many projects in his evil-begotten
mind, he hit upon the following:
He dismissed the palanquin-bearers when halting at a little shed in the
thick jungle through which they were travelling, and said to his wife,
“This is a place of danger; give me thy jewels, and I will hide them in
my waist-shawl. When thou reachest the city thou canst wear them again.”
She then gave up to him all her ornaments, which were of great value.
Thereupon he inveigled the slave girl into the depths of the forest,
where he murdered her, and left her body to be devoured by wild beasts.
Lastly, returning to my poor mistress, he induced her to leave the hut
with him, and pushed her by force into a dry well, after which exploit
he set out alone with his ill-gotten wealth, walking towards his own
city.
In the meantime, a wayfaring man, who was passing through that jungle,
hearing the sound of weeping, stood still, and began to say to himself,
“How came to my ears the voice of a mortal’s grief in this wild wood?”
then followed the direction of the noise, which led him a pit, and
peeping over the side, he saw a woman crying at the bottom. The
traveller at once loosened his gird cloth, knotted it to his turband,
and letting down the line pulled out the poor bride. He asked her who
she was and how she came to fall into that well. She replied, “I am the
daughter of Hemgupt, the wealthiest merchant in the city of Chandrapur;
and I was journeying with my husband to his own country, when robbers
set upon us and surrounded us. They slew my slave girl, the threw me
into a well, and having bound my husband they took him away, together
with my jewels. I have no tidings of him, nor he of me.” And so saying,
she burst into tears and lamentations.
The wayfaring man believed her tale, and conducted her to her home,
where she gave the same account of the accident which had befallen her,
ending with, “beyond this, I know not if they have killed my husband, or
have let him go.” The father thus soothed her grief “Daughter! have no
anxiety; thy husband is alive, and by the will of the Deity he will come
to thee in a few days. Thieves take men’s money, not their lives.” Then
the parents presented her with ornaments more precious than those which
she had lost; and summoning their relations and friends, they comforted
her to the best of their power.
And so did I. The wicked hunchback had, meanwhile, returned to his own
city, where he was excellently well received, because he brought much
wealth with him. His old associates flocked around him rejoicing; and he
fell into the same courses which had beggared him before. Gambling and
debauchery soon blunted his passions, and emptied his purse. Again his
boon companions, finding him without a broken cowrie, drove him from
their doors, he stole and was flogged for theft; and lastly, half
famished, he fled the city. Then he said to himself, “I must go to my
father-in-law, and make the excuse that a grandson has been born to him,
and that I have come to offer him congratulations on the event.”
Imagine, however, his fears and astonishment, when, as he entered the
house, his wife stood before him. At first he thought it was a ghost,
and turned to run away, but she went out to him and said, “Husband,
be not troubled! I have told my father that thieves came upon us, and
killed the slave girl and robbed me and threw me into a well, and bound
thee and carried thee off. Tell the same story, and put away all anxious
feelings. Come up and change thy tattered garments-alas! some misfortune
hath befallen thee. But console thyself; all is now well, since thou
art returned to me, and fear not, for the house is thine, and I am thy
slave.”
The wretch, with all his hardness of heart, could scarcely refrain from
tears. He followed his wife to her room, where she washed his feet,
caused him to bathe, dressed him in new clothes, and placed food before
him. When her parents returned, she presented him to their embrace,
saying in a glad way, “Rejoice with me, O my father and mother! the
robbers have at length allowed him to come back to us.” Of course the
parents were deceived, they are mostly a purblind race; and Hemgupt,
showing great favour to his worthless son-in-law, exclaimed, “Remain
with us, my son, and be happy!”