caught him by his tail before he reached the siras-tree, hurled him
backwards with force, put foot upon his chest, and after shaking out the
cloth, rolled him up in it with extreme violence, bumped his back half
a dozen times against the stony ground, and finally, with a jerk, threw
him on his shoulder, as he had done before.
The young prince, afraid to accompany his father whilst he was pursuing
the fiend, followed slowly in the rear, and did not join him for some
minutes.
But when matters were in their normal state, the Vampire, who had
endured with exemplary patience the penalty of his impudence, began in
honeyed accents,
“Listen, O warrior king, whilst thy servant recounts unto thee another
true tale.”
THE VAMPIRE’S THIRD STORY -- Of a High-minded Family.
In the venerable city of Bardwan, O warrior king! (quoth the Vampire)
during the reign of the mighty Rupsen, flourished one Rajeshwar, a
Rajput warrior of distinguished fame. By his valour and conduct he had
risen from the lowest ranks of the army to command it as its captain.
And arrived at that dignity, he did not put a stop to all improvements,
like other chiefs, who rejoice to rest and return thanks. On the
contrary, he became such a reformer that, to some extent, he remodelled
the art of war.
Instead of attending to rules and regulations, drawn up in their studies
by pandits and Brahmans, he consulted chiefly his own experience and
judgment. He threw aside the systematic plans of campaigns laid down in
the Shastras or books of the ancients, and he acted upon the spur of
the moment. He displayed a skill in the choice of ground, in the use of
light troops, and in securing his own supplies whilst he cut off those
of the enemy, which Kartikaya himself, God of War, might have envied.
Finding that the bows of his troops were clumsy and slow to use, he had
them all changed before compelled so to do by defeat; he also gave his
attention to the sword handles, which cramped the men’s grasp but which
having been used for eighteen hundred years were considered perfect
weapons. And having organized a special corps of warriors using fire
arrows, he soon brought it to such perfection that, by using it against
the elephants of his enemies, he gained many a campaign.
One instance of his superior judgment I am about to quote to thee, O
Vikram, after which I return to my tale; for thou art truly a warrior
king, very likely to imitate the innovations of the great general
Rajeshwar.
(A grunt from the monarch was the result of the Vampire’s sneer.)
He found his master’s armies recruited from Northern Hindustan, and
officered by Kshatriya warriors, who grew great only because they grew
old and--fat. Thus the energy and talent of the younger men were wasted
in troubles and disorders; whilst the seniors were often so ancient
that they could not mount their chargers unaided, nor, when they were
mounted, could they see anything a dozen yards before them. But they
had served in a certain obsolete campaign, and until Rajeshwar gave them
pensions and dismissals, they claimed a right to take first part in all
campaigns present and future. The commander-in-chief refused to use any
captain who could not stand steady on his legs, or endure the sun for a
whole day. When a soldier distinguished himself in action, he raised him
to the powers and privileges of the warrior caste. And whereas it had
been the habit to lavish circles and bars of silver and other metals
upon all those who had joined in the war, whether they had sat behind
a heap of sand or had been foremost to attack the foe, he broke through
the pernicious custom, and he rendered the honour valuable by conferring
it only upon the deserving. I need hardly say that, in an inordinately
short space of time, his army beat every king and general that opposed
it.
One day the great commander-in-chief was seated in a certain room near
the threshold of his gate, when the voices of a number of people outside
were heard. Rajeshwar asked, “Who is at the door, and what is the
meaning of the noise I hear?” The porter replied, “It is a fine thing
your honour has asked. Many persons come sitting at the door of the rich
for the purpose of obtaining a livelihood and wealth. When they meet
together they talk of various things: it is these very people who are
now making this noise.”
Rajeshwar, on hearing this, remained silent.
In the meantime a traveller, a Rajput, Birbal by name, hoping to obtain
employment, came from the southern quarter to the palace of the chief.
The porter having listened to his story, made the circumstance known to
his master, saying, “O chief! an armed man has arrived here, hoping to
obtain employment, and is standing at the door. If I receive a command
he shall be brought into your honour’s presence.”
“Bring him in,” cried the commander-in-chief.
The porter brought him in, and Rajeshwar inquired, “O Rajput, who and
what art thou?”
Birbal submitted that he was a person of distinguished fame for the use
of weapons, and that his name for fidelity and valour had gone forth to
the utmost ends of Bharat-Kandha.[83]
The chief was well accustomed to this style of self introduction, and
its only effect upon his mind was a wish to shame the man by showing him
that he had not the least knowledge of weapons. He therefore bade him
bare his blade and perform some feat.
Birbal at once drew his good sword. Guessing the thoughts which were
hovering about the chief’s mind, he put forth his left hand, extending
the forefinger upwards, waved his blade like the arm of a demon round
his head, and, with a dexterous stroke, so shaved off a bit of nail
that it fell to the ground, and not a drop of blood appeared upon the
finger-tip.
“Live for ever!” exclaimed Rajeshwar in admiration. He then addressed
to the recruit a few questions concerning the art of war, or rather
concerning his peculiar views of it. To all of which Birbal answered
with a spirit and a judgment which convinced the hearer that he was no
common sworder.
Whereupon Rajeshwar bore off the new man at arms to the palace of the
king Rupsen, and recommended that he should be engaged without delay.
The king, being a man of few words and many ideas, after hearing his
commander-in-chief, asked, “O Rajput, what shall I give thee for thy
daily expenditure?”
“Give me a thousand ounces of gold daily,” said Birbal, “and then I
shall have wherewithal to live on.”
“Hast thou an army with thee?” exclaimed the king in the greatest
astonishment.
“I have not,” responded the Rajput somewhat stiffly. “I have first,
a wife; second, a son; third, a daughter; fourth, myself; there is no
fifth person with me.”
All the people of the court on hearing this turned aside their heads to
laugh, and even the women, who were peeping at the scene, covered their
mouths with their veils. The Rajput was then dismissed the presence.
It is, however, noticeable amongst you humans, that the world often
takes you at your own valuation. Set a high price upon yourselves,
and each man shall say to his neighbour, “In this man there must be
something.” Tell everyone that you are brave, clever, generous, or even
handsome, and after a time they will begin to believe you. And when thus
you have attained success, it will be harder to unconvince them than it
was to convince them. Thus---
“Listen not to him, sirrah,” cried Raja Vikram to Dharma Dhwaj, the
young prince, who had fallen a little way behind, and was giving ear
attentively to the Vampire’s ethics. “Listen to him not. And tell me,
villain, with these ignoble principles of thine, what will become of
modesty, humility, self-sacrifice, and a host of other Guna or good
qualities which--which are good qualities?”
“I know not,” rejoined the Baital, “neither do I care. But my habitually
inspiriting a succession of human bodies has taught me one fact. The
wise man knows himself, and is, therefore, neither unduly humble nor
elated, because he had no more to do with making himself than with the
cut of his cloak, or with the fitness of his loin-cloth. But the fool
either loses his head by comparing himself with still greater fools, or
is prostrated when he finds himself inferior to other and lesser fools.
This shyness he calls modesty, humility, and so forth. Now, whenever
entering a corpse, whether it be of man, woman, or child, I feel
peculiarly modest; I know that my tenement lately belonged to some
conceited ass. And--”
“Wouldst thou have me bump thy back against the ground?” asked Raja
Vikram angrily.
(The Baital muttered some reply scarcely intelligible about his having
this time stumbled upon a metaphysical thread of ideas, and then
continued his story.)
Now Rupsen, the king, began by inquiring of himself why the Rajput had
rated his services so highly. Then he reflected that if this recruit
had asked so much money, it must have been for some reason which would
afterwards become apparent. Next, he hoped that if he gave him so much,
his generosity might some day turn out to his own advantage. Finally,
with this idea in his mind, he summoned Birbal and the steward of his
household, and said to the latter, “Give this Rajput a thousand ounces
of gold daily from our treasury.”
It is related that Birbal made the best possible use of his wealth.
He used every morning to divide it into two portions, one of which was
distributed to Brahmans and Parohitas.[84] Of the remaining moiety,
having made two parts, he gave one as alms to pilgrims, to Bairagis
or Vishnu’s mendicants, and to Sanyasis or worshippers of Shiva, whose
bodies, smeared with ashes, were hardly covered with a narrow cotton
cloth and a rope about their loins, and whose heads of artificial hair,
clotted like a rope, besieged his gate. With the remaining fourth,
having caused food to be prepared, he regaled the poor, while he himself
and his family ate what was left. Every evening, arming himself with
sword and buckler, he took up his position as guard at the royal
bedside, and walked round it all night sword in hand. If the king
chanced to wake and asked who was present, Birbal immediately gave reply
that “Birbal is here; whatever command you give, that he will obey.” And
oftentimes Rupsen gave him unusual commands, for it is said, “To try thy
servant, bid him do things in season and out of season: if he obey thee
willingly, know him to be useful; if he reply, dismiss him at once. Thus
is a servant tried, even as a wife by the poverty of her husband, and
brethren and friends by asking their aid.”
In such manner, through desire of money, Birbal remained on guard
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 recognizing 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?”
“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.”
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
muskrat; 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 pards: her hands and feet like softest blossoms; her complexion
like the jasmine-in fact, day by day the splendour of her youth
increased.
When she had arrived at maturity, her father and mother began often to
resolve 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?”
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.