"Thus treasure obtained by virtuous methods is continued to a man's

posterity, but treasure of another kind is as easily melted away as

a flake of snow when the rain begins to fall. Therefore a man should

endeavour to obtain wealth by lawful methods, but a king especially,

since wealth is the root of the tree of empire. So honour all your

ministers according to custom in order that you may obtain success,

and then accomplish the conquest of the regions, so as to gain opulence

in addition to virtue. For out of regard to the fact that you are

allied by marriage with your two powerful fathers-in-law, few kings

will oppose you, most will join you. However, this king of Benares

named Brahmadatta is always your enemy, therefore conquer him first;

when he is conquered, conquer the eastern quarter, and gradually all

the quarters, and exalt the glory of the race of Pándu gleaming white

like a lotus." When his chief minister said this to him, the king

of Vatsa consented, eager for conquest, and ordered his subjects to

prepare for the expedition; and he gave the sovereignty of the country

of Videha to his brother-in-law Gopálaka, by way of reward for his

assistance, thereby shewing his knowledge of policy; and he gave

to Sinhavarman the brother of Padmávatí, who came to his assistance

with his forces, the land of Chedi, treating him with great respect;

and the monarch summoned Pulindaka the friendly king of the Bhillas,

[279] who filled the quarters with his hordes, as the rainy season

fills them with clouds; and while the preparation for the expedition

was going on in the great king's territories, a strange anxiety was

produced in the heart of his enemies; but Yaugandharáyana first sent

spies to Benares to find out the proceedings of king Brahmadatta; then

on an auspicious day, being cheered with omens portending victory,

the king of Vatsa first marched against Brahmadatta in the Eastern

quarter, having mounted [280] a tall victorious elephant, with a

lofty umbrella on its back, as a furious lion ascends a mountain

with one tree in full bloom on it. And his expedition was facilitated

[281] by the autumn which arrived as a harbinger of good fortune, and

shewed him an easy path, across rivers flowing with diminished volume,

and he filled the face of the land with his shouting forces, so as to

produce the appearance of a sudden rainy season without clouds; and

then the cardinal points resounding with the echoes of the roaring of

his host, seemed to be telling one another their fears of his coming,

and his horses, collecting the brightness of the sun on their golden

trappings, moved along followed, as it were, by the fire pleased with

the purification of his army. [282]

And his elephants with their ears like white chowries, and with

streams of ichor flowing from their temples reddened by being mixed

with vermilion, appeared, as he marched along, like the sons of the

mountains, streaked with white clouds of autumn, and pouring down

streams of water coloured with red mineral, sent by the parent hills,

in their fear, to join his expedition. And the dust from the earth

concealed the brightness of the sun, as if thinking that the king

could not endure the effulgent splendour of rivals. And the two queens

followed the king step by step on the way, like the goddess of Fame,

and the Fortune of Victory, attracted by his politic virtues. [283]

The silk of his host's banners, tossed to and fro in the wind,

seemed to say to his enemies,--"Bend in submission, or flee." Thus

he marched, beholding the districts full of blown white lotuses,

like the uplifted hoods of the serpent Sesha [284] terrified with

fear of the destruction of the world. In the meanwhile those spies,

commissioned by Yaugandharáyana, assuming the vows of scull-bearing

worshippers of Siva, reached the city of Benares. And one of them,

who was acquainted with the art of juggling, exhibiting his skill,

assumed the part of teacher, and the others passed themselves

off as his pupils. And they celebrated that pretended teacher, who

subsisted on alms, from place to place, saying, "This master of ours

is acquainted with past, present, and future." Whatever that sage

predicted, in the way of fires and so on, to those who came to consult

him about the future, his pupils took care to bring about secretly;

so he became famous. He gained complete ascendancy over the mind of

a certain Rájpút courtier there, a favourite of the king's, who was

won over by this mean skill of the teacher's. And when the war with

the king of Vatsa came on, the king Brahmadatta began to consult

him by the agency of the Rájpút, so that he learnt the secrets of

the government. Then the minister of Brahmadatta, Yogakarandaka,

laid snares in the path of the king of Vatsa as he advanced. He

tainted, by means of poison and other deleterious substances, the

trees, flowering creepers, water and grass all along the line of

march. And he sent poison-damsels [285] as dancing girls among the

enemy's host, and he also despatched nocturnal assassins into their

midst. But that spy, who had assumed the character of a prophet,

found all this out, and then quickly informed Yaugandharáyana of

it by means of his companions. Yaugandharáyana for his part, when

he found it out, purified at every step along the line of march the

poisoned grass, water, and so on, by means of corrective antidotes,

and forbade in the camp the society of strange women, and with the

help of Rumanvat he captured and put to death those assassins. When he

heard of that, Brahmadatta having found all his stratagems fail, came

to the conclusion that the king of Vatsa, who filled with his forces

the whole country, was hard to overcome. After deliberating and sending

an ambassador, he came in person to the king of Vatsa who was encamped

near, placing his clasped hands upon his head in token of submission.

The king of Vatsa for his part, when the king of Benares came to

him, bringing a present, received him with respect and kindness,

for heroes love submission. He being thus subdued, that mighty king

went on pacifying the East, making the yielding bend, but extirpating

the obstinate, as the wind treats the trees, until he reached the

Eastern ocean, rolling with quivering waves, as it were, trembling with

terror on account of the Ganges having been conquered. On its extreme

shore he set up a pillar of victory, [286] looking like the king

of the serpents emerging from the world below to crave immunity for

Pátála. Then the people of Kalinga [287] submitted and paid tribute,

and acted as the king's guides, so that the renown of that renowned

one ascended the mountain of Mahendra. Having conquered a forest

of kings by means of his elephants, which seemed like the peaks

of the Vindhya come to him terrified at the conquest of Mahendra,

he went to the southern quarter. There he made his enemies cease

their threatening murmurs and take to the mountains, strengthless

[288] and pale, treating them as the season of autumn treats the

clouds. The Káverí being crossed by him in his victorious onset,

and the glory of the king of the Chola [289] race being surpassed,

were befouled at the same time. He no longer allowed the Muralas

[290] to exalt their heads, for they were completely beaten down by

tributes imposed on them. Though his elephants drank the waters of

the Godávarí divided into seven streams, they seemed to discharge

them again seven-fold in the form of ichor. Then the king crossed

the Revá and reached Ujjayiní, and entered the city, being made by

king Chandamahásena to precede him. And there he became the target of

the amorous sidelong glances of the ladies of Málava, who shine with

twofold beauty by loosening their braided hair and wearing garlands,

and he remained there in great comfort, hospitably entertained by his

father-in-law, so that he even forgot the long-regretted enjoyments

of his native land. And Vásavadattá was continually at her parents'

side, remembering her childhood, seeming despondent even in her

happiness. The king Chandamahásena was as much delighted at meeting

Padmávatí, as he was at meeting again his own daughter. But after he

had rested some days, the delighted king of Vatsa, reinforced by the

troops of his father-in-law, marched towards the western region; his

curved sword [291] was surely the smoke of the fire of his valour,

since it dimmed with gushing tears the eyes of the women of Láta;

the mountain of Mandara, when its woods were broken through by his

elephants, seemed to tremble lest he should root it up to churn the

sea. [292] Surely he was a splendid luminary excelling the sun and

other orbs, since in his victorious career he enjoyed a glorious rising

even in the western quarter. Then he went to Alaká, distinguished by

the presence of Kuvera, displaying its beauties before him, that is

to say, to the quarter made lovely by the smile of Kailása, and having

subdued the king of Sindh, at the head of his cavalry he destroyed the

Mlechchhas as Ráma destroyed the Rákshasas at the head of the army of

monkeys; the cavalry squadrons of the Turushkas [293] were broken on

the masses of his elephants, as the waves of the agitated sea on the

woods that line the sea-shore. The august hero received the tribute of

his foes, and cut off the head of the wicked king of the Párasíkas

[294] as Vishnu did that of Ráhu. [295] His glory, after he had

inflicted a defeat on the Húnas [296], made the four quarters resound,

and poured down the Himálaya like a second Ganges. When the hosts

of the monarch, whose enemies were still from fear, were shouting,

a hostile answer was heard only in the hollows of the rocks. It is

not strange that then the king of Kámarúpa, [297] bending before

him with head deprived of the umbrella, was without shade and also

without brightness. Then that sovereign returned, followed by elephants

presented by the king of Kámarúpa, resembling moving rocks made over

to him by the mountains by way of tribute. Having thus conquered

the earth, the king of Vatsa with his attendants reached the city of

the king of Magadha the father of Padmávatí. But the king of Magadha,

when he arrived with the queens, was as joyous as the god of love when

the moon illuminates the night. Vásavadattá, who had lived with him

before without being recognised, was now made known to him, and he

considered her deserving of the highest regard.

Then that victorious king of Vatsa, having been honoured by the king

of Magadha with his whole city, followed by the minds of all the people

which pursued him out of affection, having swallowed the surface of the

earth with his mighty army, returned to Lávánaka in his own dominions.

CHAPTER XX.

Then the king of Vatsa, while encamped in Lávánaka to rest his army,

said in secret to Yaugandharáyana, "Through your sagacity I have

conquered all the kings upon the earth, and they being won over

by politic devices will not conspire against me. But this king of

Benares, Brahmadatta, is an ill-conditioned fellow, and he alone,

I think, will plot against me; what confidence can be reposed in the

wicked-minded?" Then Yaugandharáyana, being spoken to in this strain

by the king, answered, "O king, Brahmadatta will not plot against

you again, for when he was conquered and submitted, you shewed him

great consideration; and what sensible man will injure one who treats

him well? Whoever does, will find that it turns out unfortunately

for himself, and on this point, listen to what I am going to say;

I will tell you a tale."

Story of Phalabhúti.

There was once on a time in the land of Padma an excellent Bráhman

of high renown, named Agnidatta, who lived on a grant of land given

by the king. He had born to him two sons, the elder named Somadatta,

and the second Vaisvánaradatta. The elder of them was of fine person,

but ignorant, and ill-conducted, but the second was sagacious,

well-conducted, and fond of study. And those two after they were

married, and their father had died, divided that royal grant and

the rest of his possessions between them, each taking half; and the

younger of the two was honoured by the king, but the elder Somadatta,

who was of unsteady character, remained a husbandman. One day a

Bráhman, who had been a friend of his father's, seeing him engaged

in conversation with some Súdras, thus addressed him, "Though you

are the son of Agnidatta, you behave like a Súdra, you blockhead,

and you are not ashamed, though you see your own brother in favour

with the king." Somadatta, when he heard that, flew into a passion,

and forgetting the respect due to the old man, ran upon him, and

gave him a kick. Then the Bráhman, enraged on account of the kick,

immediately called on some other Bráhmans to bear witness to it,

and went and complained to the king. The king sent out soldiers to

take Somadatta prisoner, but they, when they went out, were slain

by his friends, who had taken up arms. Then the king sent out a

second force, and captured Somadatta, and blinded by wrath ordered

him to be impaled. Then that Bráhman, as he was being lifted on to

the stake, suddenly fell to the ground, as if he were flung down

by somebody. And those executioners, when preparing to lift him on

again, became blind, for the fates protect one who is destined to

be prosperous. The king, as soon as he heard of the occurrence, was

pleased, and being entreated by the younger brother, spared the life

of Somadatta; then Somadatta, having escaped death, desired to go to

another land with his wife on account of the insulting treatment of the

king, and when his relations in a body disapproved of his departure,

he determined to live without the half of the king's grant, which

he resigned; then, finding no other means of support, he desired to

practise husbandry, and went to the forest on a lucky day to find a

piece of ground suitable for it. There he found a promising piece of

ground, from which it seemed likely that an abundant crop could be

produced, and in the middle of it he saw an Asvattha tree of great

size. Desiring ground fit for cultivation, and seeing that tree to

be cool like the rainy season, as it kept off the rays of the sun

with its auspicious thick shade, he was much delighted. He said, "I

am a faithful votary of that being, whoever he may be, that presides

over this tree," and walking round the tree so as to keep it on his

right, he bowed before it. [298] Then he yoked a pair of bullocks,

and recited a prayer for success, and after making an oblation to

that tree, he began to plough there. And he remained under that tree

night and day, and his wife always brought him his meals there. And

in course of time, when the corn was ripe that piece of ground was, as

fate would have it, unexpectedly plundered by the troops of a hostile

kingdom. Then the hostile force having departed, the courageous man,

though his corn was destroyed, comforted his weeping wife, gave her

the little that remained, and after making an offering as before,

remained in the same place, under the same tree. For that is the

character of resolute men, that their perseverance is increased

by misfortune. Then one night, when he was sleepless from anxiety

and alone, a voice came out from that Asvattha tree, "O Somadatta,

I am pleased with thee, therefore go to the kingdom of a king named

Ádityaprabha in the land of Sríkantha; continually repeat at the door

of that king, (after reciting the form of words used at the evening

oblation to Agni,) the following sentence--'I am Phalabhúti by name,

a Bráhman, hear what I say: he who does good will obtain good, and he

who does evil, will obtain evil;'--by repeating this there thou shalt

attain great prosperity; and now learn from me the form of words used

at the evening oblation to Agni; I am a Yaksha." Having said this,

and having immediately taught him by his power the form of words used

in the evening oblation, the voice in the tree ceased. And the next

morning the wise Somadatta set out with his wife, having received the

name of Phalabhúti by imposition of the Yaksha, and after crossing

various forests uneven and labyrinthine as his own calamities, [299]

he reached the land of Sríkantha. There he recited at the king's door

the form of words used at the evening oblation, and then he announced,

as he had been directed, his name as Phalabhúti, and uttered the

following speech which excited the curiosity of the people, "The doer

of good will obtain good, but the doer of evil, evil." And after he had

said this frequently, the king Ádityaprabha, being full of curiosity,

caused Phalabhúti to be brought into the palace, and he entered, and

over and over again repeated that same speech in the presence of the

king. That made the king and all his courtiers laugh. And the king and

his chiefs gave him garments and ornaments, and also villages, for

the amusement of great men is not without fruit; and so Phalabhúti,

having been originally poor, immediately obtained by the favour of

the Guhyaka [300] wealth bestowed by the king; and by continually

reciting the words mentioned above, he became a special favourite

of the monarch for the regal mind loves diversion. And gradually

he attained to a position of love and respect in the palace, in

the kingdom, and in the female apartments, as being beloved by the

king. One day that king Ádityaprabha returned from hunting in the

forest, and quickly entered his harem; his suspicions were aroused by

the confusion of the warders, and when he entered, he saw the queen

named Kuvalayávalí engaged in worshipping the gods, stark naked,

[301] with her hair standing on end, and her eyes half-closed, with

a large patch of red lead upon her forehead, with her lips trembling

in muttering charms, in the midst of a great circle [302] strewed with

various coloured powders, after offering a horrible oblation of blood,

spirits, and human flesh. She for her part, when the king entered,

in her confusion seized her garments, and when questioned by him

immediately answered, after craving pardon for what she had done,

"I have gone through this ceremony in order that you might obtain

prosperity, and now, my lord, listen to the way in which I learnt

these rites, and the secret of my magic skill."

Story of Kuvalayávalí and the witch Kálarátri.

Long ago, when I was living in my father's house, I was thus addressed,

while enjoying myself in the garden during the spring festival, by my

friends who met me there; "There is in this pleasure-garden an image

of Ganesa, the god of gods, in the middle of an arbour made of trees,

and that image grants boons, and its power has been tested. Approach

with devout faith that granter of petitions, and worship him, in order

that you may soon obtain without difficulty a suitable husband." When

I heard that, I asked my friends in my ignorance; "What! do maidens

obtain husbands by worshipping Ganesa?" Then they answered me; "Why

do you ask such a question? Without worshipping him no one obtains

any success in this world; and in proof of it we will give you an

instance of his power, listen." Saying this, my friends told me the

following tale:

Story of the birth of Kártikeya.

Long ago, when Indra oppressed by Táraka was desirous or obtaining a

son from Siva to act as general of the gods, and the god of love had

been consumed, [303] Gaurí by performing austerities sought and gained

as a husband the three-eyed god, who was engaged in a very long and

terrible course of mortification. Then she desired the obtaining of

a son, and the return to life of the god of love, but she did not

remember to worship Ganesa in order to gain her end. So, when his

beloved asked that her desire should be granted, Siva said to her,

"My dear goddess, the god of love was born long ago from the mind of

Brahmá, and no sooner was he born than he said in his insolence, 'Whom

shall I make mad? (kan darpayámi).' So Brahmá called him Kandarpa, and

said to him, 'Since thou art very confident, my son, avoid attacking

Siva only, lest thou receive death from him.' Though the Creator gave

him this warning, the ill-disposed god came to trouble my austerities,

therefore he was burnt up by me, and he cannot be created again

with his body. [304] But I will create by my power a son from you,

for I do not require the might of love in order to have offspring as

mortals do." While the god, whose ensign is a bull, [305] was saying

this to Párvatí, Brahmá accompanied by Indra appeared before him;

and when he had been praised by them, and entreated to bring about

the destruction of the Asura Táraka, Siva consented to beget on the

goddess a son of his body. And, at their entreaty, he consented that

the god of love should be born without body in the minds of animate

creatures, to prevent the destruction of created beings. And he gave

permission to love to influence his own mind; pleased with that,

the Creator went away and Párvatí was delighted. But when, after the

lapse of hundreds of years, there appeared no hope of Párvatí having

any offspring, the god by the order of Brahmá called to mind Agni;

Agni for his part, the moment they called him to mind, thinking that

the foe of the god of love was irresistible, and afraid to interfere,

fled from the gods and entered the water; but the frogs being burned

by his heat told the gods, who were searching for him, that he was

in the water; then Agni by his curse immediately made the speech of

the frogs thenceforth inarticulate, and again disappearing fled to a

place of refuge. There the gods found him, concealed in the trunk of

a tree, in the form of a snail, for he was betrayed by the elephants

and parrots, and he appeared to them. And after making by a curse the

tongues of the parrots and the elephants incapable of clear utterance,

he promised to do what the gods requested, having been praised by

them. So he went to Siva, and after inclining humbly before him,

through fear of being cursed, he informed him of the commission

the gods had given him. Siva thereupon deposited the embryo in the

fire. Then the goddess distracted with anger and grief, said, "I

have not obtained a son from you after all," and Siva said to her;

"An obstacle has arisen in this matter, because you neglected to

worship Ganesa, the lord of obstacles; therefore adore him now in

order that a child may be born to us of the fire." When thus addressed

by Siva, the goddess worshipped Ganesa, and the fire became pregnant

with that germ of Siva. Then, bearing that embryo of Siva, the fire

shone even in the day as if the sun had entered into it. And then

it discharged into the Ganges the germ difficult to bear, and the

Ganges, by the order of Siva, placed it in a sacrificial cavity on

mount Meru. [306] There that germ was watched by the Ganas, Siva's

attendants, and after a thousand years had developed it, it became a

boy with six faces. Then, drinking milk with his six mouths from the

breasts of the six Krittikás [307] appointed by Gaurí to nurse him,

the boy grew big in a few days. In the meanwhile, the king of the

gods, overcome by the Asura Táraka, fled to the difficult peaks of

mount Meru, abandoning the field of battle. And the gods together

with the Rishis went to the six-mouthed Kártikeya for protection,

and he, defending the gods, remained surrounded by them. When Indra

heard that, he was troubled, considering that his kingdom was taken

from him, and being jealous he went and made war upon Kártikeya. But

from the body of Kártikeya, when struck by the thunderbolt of Indra,

there sprang two sons called Sákha and Visákha, both of incomparable

might. Then Siva came to his offspring Kártikeya, who exceeded Indra

in might, and forbade him and his two sons to fight, and rebuked him

in the following words: "Thou wast born in order that thou mightest

slay Táraka and protect the realm of Indra, therefore do thy own

duty." Then Indra was delighted and immediately bowed before him,

and commenced the ceremony of consecrating by ablutions Kártikeya

as general of his forces. But when he himself lifted the pitcher

for that purpose, his arm became stiff, wherefore he was despondent,

but Siva said to him; "Thou didst not worship the elephant-faced god,

when thou desiredst a general; it was for this reason that thou hast

met with this obstacle, therefore adore him now." Indra, when he

heard that, did so, and his arm was set free, and he duly performed

the joyful ceremony of consecrating the general. And not long after,

the general slew the Asura Táraka, and the gods rejoiced at having

accomplished their object, and Gaurí at having obtained a son. So,

princess, you see even the gods are not successful without honouring

Ganesa, therefore adore him when you desire a blessing.

After hearing this from my companions I went, my husband, and

worshipped an image of Ganesa, that stood in a lonely part of the

garden, and after I had finished the worship, I suddenly saw that those

companions of mine had flown up by their own power and were disporting

themselves in the fields of the air; when I saw that, out of curiosity

I called them and made them come down from the heaven, and when I

asked them about the nature of their magic power, they immediately

gave me this answer; "These are the magic powers of witches' spells,

and they are due to the eating of human flesh, and our teacher in this

is a Bráhman woman known by the name of Kálarátri." When my companions

said this to me, I being desirous of acquiring the power of a woman

that can fly in the air, but afraid of eating human flesh, was for

a time in a state of hesitation; then eager to possess that power, I

said to those friends of mine, "Cause me also to be instructed in this

science." And immediately they went and brought, in accordance with

my request, Kálarátri, who was of repulsive appearance. Her eyebrows

met, [308] she had dull eyes, a depressed flat nose, large cheeks,

widely parted lips, projecting teeth, a long neck, pendulous breasts,

a large belly, and broad expanded feet. She appeared as if the creator

had made her as a specimen of his skill in producing ugliness. When

I fell at her feet, after bathing and worshipping Ganesa, she made

me take off my clothes and perform, standing in a circle, a horrible

ceremony in honour of Siva in his terrific form, and after she had

sprinkled me with water, she gave me various spells known to her,

and human flesh to eat that had been offered in sacrifice to the gods;

so, after I had eaten man's flesh and had received the various spells,

I immediately flew up, naked as I was, into the heaven with my friends,

and after I had amused myself, I descended from the heaven by command

of my teacher, and I, the princess, went to my own apartments. Thus

even in my girlhood I became one of the society of witches, and in

our meetings we devoured the bodies of many men.

Story of Sundaraka.

But listen, king, to a story which is a digression from my main

tale. That Kálarátri had for husband a Bráhman of the name of

Vishnusvámin, and he, being an instructor in that country, taught

many pupils who came from different lands, as he was skilful in the

exposition of the Vedas. And among his pupils he had one young man

of the name of Sundaraka, the beauty of whose person was set off by

his excellent character; one day the teacher's wife Kálarátri being

love-sick secretly courted him, her husband having gone away to some

place or other. Truly Love makes great sport with ugly people as his

laughing-stocks, in that she, not considering her own appearance,

fell in love with Sundaraka. But he, though tempted, detested with

his whole soul the crime; however women may misbehave, the mind of the

good is not to be shaken. Then, he having departed, Kálarátri in a rage

tore her own body with bites and scratches, and she remained weeping,

[309] with dress and locks disordered, until the teacher Vishnusvámin

entered the house. And when he had entered, she said to him,--"Look,

my Lord, to this state has Sundaraka reduced me, endeavouring to

gain possession of me by force." As soon as the teacher heard that,

he was inflamed with anger, for confidence in women robs even wise

men of their power of reflection; and when Sundaraka returned home at

night, he ran upon him, and he and his pupils kicked him, and struck

him with fists, and sticks; moreover when he was senseless with the

blows, he ordered his pupils to fling him out in the road by night,

without regard to his safety, and they did so. Then Sundaraka was

gradually restored to consciousness by the cool night breeze, and

seeing himself thus outraged he reflected, "Alas! the instigation of

a woman troubles the minds even of those men whose souls are not under

the dominion of passion, as a storm disturbs the repose of lakes which

are not reached by dust. [310] This is why that teacher of mine in the

excess of his anger, though old and wise, was so inconsiderate as to

treat me so cruelly. But the fact is, lust and wrath are appointed in

the dispensation of fate, from the very birth even of wise Bráhmans,

to be the two bolts on the door of their salvation. [311] For were

not the sages long ago angry with Siva in the devadáru-wood, being

afraid that their wives would go astray? And they did not know that he

was a god, as he had assumed the appearance of a Buddhist mendicant,

with the intention of shewing Umá that even Rishis do not possess

self-restraint. But after they had cursed him, they discovered that

he was the ruling god, that shakes the three worlds, and they fled to

him for protection. So it appears that even hermits injure others, when

beguiled by the six faults that are enemies of man, [312] lust, wrath,

and their crew, much more so Bráhmans learned in the Vedas." Thinking

thus, Sundaraka from fear of robbers during the night, climbed up and

took shelter in a neighbouring cow-house. And while he was crouching

unobserved in a corner of that cow-house, Kálarátri came into it with a

drawn sword in her hand, [313] terrible from the hissing she uttered,

with wind and flames issuing from her mouth and eyes, accompanied by

a crowd of witches. Then the terrified Sundaraka, beholding Kálarátri

arriving in such a guise, called to mind the spells that drive away

Rákshasas, and bewildered by these spells Kálarátri did not see him

crouching secretly in a corner, with his limbs drawn together from

fear. Then Kálarátri with her friends recited the spells that enable

witches to fly, and they flew up into the air, cow-house and all.

And Sundaraka heard the spell and remembered it; [314] but Kálarátri

with the cow-house quickly flew through the air to Ujjayiní: there

she made it descend by a spell in a garden of herbs, and went and

sported in the cemetery among the witches: and immediately Sundaraka

being hungry went down into the garden of herbs, and made a meal

on some roots which he dug up, and after he had allayed the pangs

of hunger, and returned as before to the cow-house, Kálarátri came

back in the middle of the night from her meeting. Then she got up

into the cow-house, and, just as before, she flew through the air

with her pupils by the power of her magic, and returned home in the

night. And after she had replaced the cow-house, which she made use

of as a vehicle, in its original situation, and had dismissed those

followers of hers, she entered her sleeping apartment. And Sundaraka,

having thus passed through that night, astonished at the troubles

he had undergone, in the morning left the cow-house and went to

his friends; there he related what had happened to him, and, though

desirous of going to some other country, he was comforted by those

friends and took up his abode among them, and leaving the dwelling of

his teacher, and taking his meals in the almshouse for Bráhmans, he

lived there enjoying himself at will in the society of his friends. One

day Kálarátri, having gone out to buy some necessaries for her house,

saw Sundaraka in the market. And being once more love-sick, she went

up to him and said to him a second time--"Sundaraka, shew me affection

even now, for my life depends on you." When she said this to him, the

virtuous Sundaraka said to her, "Do not speak thus, it is not right;

you are my mother, as being the wife of my teacher." Then Kálarátri

said; "If you know what is right, then grant me my life, for what

righteousness is greater than the saving of life?" Then Sundaraka

said--"Mother, do not entertain this wish, for what righteousness can

there be in approaching the bed of my preceptor." Thus repulsed by

him, and threatening him in her wrath, she went home, after tearing

her upper garment with her own hand, and shewing the garment to her

husband, she said to him, "Look, Sundaraka ran upon me, and tore this

garment of mine in this fashion;" so her husband went in his anger

and stopped Sundaraka's supply of food at the almshouse, by saying

that he was a felon who deserved death. Then Sundaraka in disgust,

being desirous of leaving that country, and knowing the spell for

flying up into the air which he had learnt in the cow-house, but

being conscious that he had forgotten, after hearing it, the spell for

descending from the sky, which he had been taught there also, again

went in the night to that deserted cow-house, and while he was there,

Kálarátri came as before, and flying up in the cow-house in the same

way as on the former occasion, travelled through the air to Ujjayiní,

and having made the cow-house descend by a spell in the garden of

herbs, went again to the cemetery to perform her nightly ceremonies.

And Sundaraka heard that spell again, but failed again to retain it;

for how can magic practices be thoroughly learnt without explanation

by a teacher? Then he ate some roots there, and put some others in

the cow-house to take away with him, and remained there as before;

then Kálarátri came, and climbing up into the cow-house, flew through

the air by night, and stopping the vehicle, entered her house. In the

morning Sundaraka also left that house, and taking the roots with him

he went to the market in order to procure money with which to purchase

food. And while he was selling them there, some servants of the king's,

who were natives of Málava, took them away without paying for them,

seeing that they were the produce of their own country. Then he began

to remonstrate angrily, so they manacled him, and took him before the

king on a charge of throwing stones at them, and his friends followed

him. Those villains said to the king--"This man, when we asked him

how he managed continually to bring roots from Málava and sell them

in Ujjayiní, would not give us any answer, on the contrary he threw

stones at us."

When the king heard this, he asked him about that marvel, [315] then

his friends said--"If he is placed on the palace with us, he will

explain the whole wonder, but not otherwise." The king consented,

and Sundaraka was placed on the palace, whereupon by the help of

the spell he suddenly flew up into the heaven with the palace. And

travelling on it with his friends, he gradually reached Prayága,

[316] and being now weary he saw a certain king bathing there,

and after stopping the palace there, he plunged from the heaven

into the Ganges, and, beheld with wonder by all, he approached that

king. The king inclining before him, said to him, "Who art thou, and

why hast thou descended from heaven?" Sundaraka answered, "I am an

attendant of the god Siva, named Murajaka, and by his command I have

come to thee desiring human pleasures." When the king heard this,

he supposed it was true, and gave him a city, rich in corn, filled

with jewels, with women and all the insignia of rank. Then Sundaraka

entered that city and flew up into the heaven with his followers,

and for a long time roamed about at will, free from poverty. Lying

on a golden bed, and fanned with chowries by beautiful women, he

enjoyed happiness like that of Indra. Then once on a time a Siddha,

that roamed in the air, with whom he had struck up a friendship,

gave him a spell for descending from the air, and Sundaraka, having

become possessed of this spell enabling him to come down to earth,

descended from the sky-path in his own city of Kányakubja. Then the

king hearing that he had come down from heaven, possessed of full

prosperity, with a city, went in person to meet him out of curiosity,

and Sundaraka, when recognized and questioned, knowing what to say on

all occasions, informed the king of all his own adventures brought

about by Kálarátri. Then the king sent for Kálarátri and questioned

her, and she fearlessly confessed her improper conduct, and the king

was angry and made up his mind to cut off her ears, but she, when

seized, disappeared before the eyes of all the spectators. Then the

king forbade her to live in his kingdom, and Sundaraka having been

honourably treated by him returned to the air.

Having said this to her husband the king Ádityaprabha, the queen

Kuvalayávalí went on to say; "King, such magic powers, produced by the

spells of witches, do exist, and this thing happened in my father's

kingdom, and it is famous in the world, and, as I told you at first,

I am a pupil of Kálarátri's, but because I am devoted to my husband,

I possess greater power even than she did. And to-day you saw me

just at the time when I had performed ceremonies to ensure your

welfare, and was endeavouring to attract by a spell a man to offer

as a victim. So do you enter now into our practice, and set your

foot on the head of all kings, conquering them by magic power. When

he heard this proposal, the king at first rejected it, saying, "What

propriety is there in a king's connecting himself with the eating of

human flesh, the practice of witches?" But when the queen was bent on

committing suicide, he consented, for how can men who are attracted

by the objects of passion remain in the good path? Then she made him

enter into the circle previously consecrated, and said to the king,

after he had taken an oath; "I attempted to draw hither as a victim

that Bráhman named Phalabhúti, who is so intimate with you, but the

drawing him hither is a difficult task, so it is the best way to

initiate some cook in our rites, that he may himself slay him and

cook him. And you must not feel any compunction about it, because

by eating a sacrificial offering of his flesh, after the ceremonies

are complete, the enchantment will be perfect, for he is a Bráhman

of the highest caste." When his beloved said this to him, the king,

though afraid of the sin, a second time consented. Alas! terrible is

compliance with women! Then that royal couple had the cook summoned,

whose name was Sáhasika, and after encouraging him, and initiating him,

they both said to him,--"Whoever comes to you to-morrow morning and

says--'The king and queen will eat together to-day, so get some food

ready quickly,' him you must slay, and make for us secretly a savoury

dish of his flesh." When the cook heard this, he consented, and went

to his own house. And the next morning, when Phalabhúti arrived, the

king said to him, "Go and tell the cook Sáhasika in the kitchen, 'the

king together with the queen will eat to-day a savoury mess, therefore

prepare as soon as possible a splendid dish.'" Phalabhúti said, "I

will do so" and went out. When he was outside, the prince whose name

was Chandraprabha, came to him, and said--"Have made for me this very

day with this gold a pair of earrings, like those you had made before

for my noble father." When the prince said this, Phalabhúti, in order

to please him, went that moment, as he was commissioned, to get the

earrings made, and the prince readily went with the king's message,

which Phalabhúti told him, alone to the kitchen; when he got there and

told the king's message, the cook Sáhasika, true to his agreement,

immediately killed him with a knife, and made a dish of his flesh,

which the king and queen, after performing their ceremonies, ate,

not knowing the truth; [317] and after spending that night in remorse,

the next morning the king saw Phalabhúti arrive with the earrings in

his hand.

So, being bewildered, he questioned him about the earrings immediately;

and when Phalabhúti had told him his story, the king fell on the

earth, and cried out; "Alas my son!" blaming the queen and himself,

and when his ministers questioned him, he told them the whole story,

and repeated what Phalabhúti had said every day--"'The doer of

good will obtain good, and the doer of evil, evil.' Often the harm

that one wishes to do to another, recoils on one's self, as a ball

thrown against a wall rebounding frequently; thus we, wicked ones,

desiring to slay a Bráhman, have brought about our own son's death,

and devoured his flesh." After the king had said this and informed

his ministers, who stood with their faces fixed on the earth, of the

whole transaction, and after he had anointed that very Phalabhúti as

king in his place, he made a distribution of alms and then, having

no son, entered the fire with his wife to purify himself from guilt,

though already consumed by the fire of remorse: and Phalabhúti, having

obtained the royal dignity, ruled the earth; thus good or evil done

by a man is made to return upon himself.

Having related the above tale in the presence of the king of Vatsa,

Yaugandharáyana again said to that king; "If Brahmadatta therefore

were to plot against you, O great king, who, after conquering him,

treated him kindly, he ought to be slain." When the chief minister

had said this to him, the king of Vatsa approved of it, and rising up

went to perform the duties of the day, and the day following he set out

from Lávánaka to go to his own city Kausámbí, having accomplished his

objects in effecting the conquest of the regions; in course of time

the lord of earth accompanied by his retinue reached his own city,

which seemed to be dancing with delight, imitating with banners

uplifted the taper arms [318] of the dancing girl. So he entered

the city, producing, at every step, in the lotus-garden composed

of the eyes of the women of the city, the effect of the rising of a

breeze. And the king entered his palace, sung by minstrels, praised

by bards, and worshipped by kings. Then the monarch of Vatsa laid

his commands on the kings of every land, who bowed before him, and

triumphantly ascended that throne, the heirloom of his race, which

he had found long ago in the deposit of treasure. And the heaven was

filled with the combined high and deep echoes of the sound of the

drums, which accompanied the auspicious ceremonies on that occasion,

like simultaneous shouts of applause uttered by the guardians of the

world, each in his several quarter, being delighted with the prime

minister of the king of Vatsa. Then the monarch, who was free from

avarice, distributed to the Bráhmans all kinds of wealth acquired by

the conquest of the world, and after great festivities, satisfied the

desires of the company of kings and of his own ministers. Then in

that city filled with the noise of drums resembling the thunder of

the clouds, while the king was raining benefits on the fields [319]

according to each man's desert, the people, expecting great fruit

in the form of corn, kept high festival in every house. Having thus

conquered the world, that victorious king devolved on Rumanvat and

Yaugandharáyana the burden of his realm, and lived at ease there with

Vásavadattá and Padmávatí. So he, being praised by excellent bards,

seated between those two queens as if they were the goddesses of Fame

and Fortune, enjoyed the rising of the moon white as his own glory,

and continually drank wine as he had swallowed the might of his foes.

BOOK IV.

CHAPTER XXI.

Victory to the conqueror of obstacles, [320] who marks with a line like

the parting of the hair, the principal mountains [321] by the mighty

fanning of his ear-flaps, pointing out, as it were, a path of success!

Then Udayana, the king of Vatsa, remaining in Kausámbí, enjoyed the

conquered earth which was under one umbrella; and the happy monarch

devolved the care of his empire upon Yaugandharáyana and Rumanvat, and

addicted himself to pleasure only in the society of Vasantaka. Himself

playing on the lute, in the company of the queen Vásavadattá and

Padmávatí, he was engaged in a perpetual concert. While the notes of

his lyre were married to the soft sweet song of the queens, the rapid

movement of his executing finger alone indicated the difference of

the sounds. And while the roof of the palace was white with moonlight

as with his own glory, he drank wine in plenteous streams as he had

swallowed the pride of his enemies [322]; beautiful women brought him,

as he sat retired, in vessels of gold, wine flaming with rosy glow,

[323] as it were the water of his appointment as ruler in the empire

of love; he divided between the two queens the cordial liquor red,

delicious, and pellucid, in which danced the reflection of their faces;

as he did his own heart, impassioned, enraptured and transparent,

in which the same image was found; his eyes were never sated with

resting on the faces of those queens, which had the eyebrows arched,

and blushed with the rosy hue of love, though envy and anger were

far from them; the scene of his banquet, filled with many crystal

goblets of wine, gleamed like a lake of white lotuses tinged red with

the rising sun. And occasionally, accompanied by huntsmen, clad in

a vest dark green as the palása tree, he ranged, bow and arrows in

hand, the forest full of wild beasts, which was of the same colour

as himself. He slew with arrows herds of wild boars besmeared with

mud, as the sun disperses with its dense rays the masses of darkness;

when he ran towards them, the antelopes fleeing in terror, seemed like

the sidelong glances of the quarters previously conquered [324] by him.

And when he slew the buffaloes, the ground, red with blood, looked

like a bed of red lotuses, come to thank him humbly for delivering it

from the goring of their horns. When the lions too were transfixed by

his javelins falling in their open mouths, and their lives issued

from them with a suppressed roar, he was delighted. In that wood

he employed dogs in the ravines, and nets in the glades; this was

the method of his pursuit of the chase in which he relied only

upon his own resources. While he was thus engaged in his pleasant

enjoyments, one day the hermit Nárada came to him as he was in the

hall of audience, diffusing a halo with the radiance of his body,

like the sun, the orb of heaven, descending therefrom out of love

for the Solar dynasty. The king welcomed him, inclining before him

again and again, and the sage stood a moment as if pleased, and said

to that king, "Listen, O king, I will tell you a story in few words;

you had an ancestor once, a king of the name of Pándu; he like you

had two noble wives; one wife of the mighty prince was named Kuntí

and the other Mádrí. That Pándu conquered this sea-engirdled earth,

and was very prosperous, and being addicted to the vice of hunting

he went one day to the forest. There he let fly an arrow and slew

a hermit of the name of Arindama, who was sporting with his wife in

the form of a deer. [325] That hermit abandoned that deer-form, and

with his breath struggling in his throat cursed that Pándu, who in

his despair had flung away his bow; 'Since I have been slain while

sporting at will by thee, inconsiderate one, thou also shalt die in

the embraces of thy wife.' Having been thus cursed, Pándu, through

fear of its effect, abandoned the desire of enjoyment, and accompanied

by his wives lived in a tranquil grove of ascetic quietism. While he

was there, one day impelled by that curse, he suddenly approached his

beloved Mádrí, and died. So you may rest assured that the occupation

called hunting is a madness of kings, for other kings have been done

to death by it, even as the various deer they have slain. For how can

hunting produce benign results, since the genius of hunting is like

a female Rákshasa, roaring horribly, intent on raw flesh, defiled

with dust, with upstanding hair and lances for teeth. Therefore give

up that useless exertion, the sport of hunting; wild elephants and

their slayers are exposed to the same risk of losing their lives. And

you, who are ordained for prosperity, are dear to me on account of my

friendship with your ancestors, so hear how you are to have a son who

is to be a portion of the god of love. Long ago, when Rati worshipped

Siva with praises in order to effect the restoration of Káma's body,

Siva being pleased told her this secret in few words; 'This Gaurí,

[326] desiring a son, shall descend to earth with a part of herself,

and after propitiating me, shall give birth to an incarnation of

Káma.' Accordingly, king, the goddess has been born in the form of

this Vásavadattá, daughter of Chandamahásena, and she has become your

queen. So she, having propitiated Siva, shall give birth to a son who

shall be a portion of Káma, and shall become the emperor of all the

Vidyádharas." By this speech the Rishi Nárada, whose words command

respect, gave back to the king the earth which he had offered him as

a present, and then disappeared. When he had departed, the king of

Vatsa in company with Vásavadattá, in whom had arisen the desire of

obtaining a son, spent the day in thinking about it.

The next day the chief warder called Nityodita, came to the lord

of Vatsa while he was in the hall of assembly, and said to him;

"A certain distressed Bráhman woman, accompanied by two children,

is standing at the door, O king, desiring to see your Highness." When

the king heard this, he permitted her to enter, and so that Bráhman

woman entered, thin, pale, and begrimed, distressed by the tearing

of her clothes and wounding of her self-respect, carrying in her

bosom two children looking like Misery and Poverty. After she had

made the proper obeisance, she said to the king, "I am a Bráhman

woman of good caste, reduced to such poverty; as fate would have it,

I gave birth to these two boys at the same time, and I have no milk

for them, O king, without food. Therefore I have come in my misery

and helplessness for protection to the king, who is kind to all who

fly to him for protection; now, my lord the king must determine what

my lot is to be." When the king heard that, he was filled with pity,

and said to the warder, "Take this woman and commend her to the queen

Vásavadattá." Then that woman was conducted into the presence of the

queen by that warder, as it were by her own good actions marching in

front of her. The queen, when she heard from that warder that the

Bráhman woman who had come had been sent by the king, felt all the

more confidence in her. And when she saw that the woman, though poor,

had two children, she thought, "This is exceedingly unfair dealing on

the part of the Creator! Alas! he grudges a son to me who am rich, and

shews affection to one who is poor! I have not yet one son, but this

woman has these twins." Thus reflecting, the queen, who was herself

desiring a bath, gave orders to her servants to provide the Bráhman

woman with a bath and other restoratives. After she had been provided

with a bath, and had had clothes given her, and had been supplied by

them with agreeable food, that Bráhman woman was refreshed like the

heated earth bedewed with rain. And as soon as she had been refreshed,

the queen Vásavadattá, in order to test her by conversation, artfully

said to her, "O Bráhman lady, tell us some tale," when she heard that,

she agreed and began to tell this story.

Story of Devadatta.

In old time there was a certain petty monarch of the name of

Jayadatta and there was born to him a son, named Devadatta. And

that wise king wishing to marry his son who was grown up, thus

reflected--"The prosperity of kings is very unstable, being like a

hetæra to be enjoyed by force, but the prosperity of merchants is

like a woman of good family, it is steady and does not fly to another

man. Therefore I will take a wife to my son from a merchant's family,

in order that misfortune may not overtake his throne, though it is

surrounded with many relations." Having formed this resolve, that king

sought for his son the daughter of a merchant in Pátaliputra named

Vasudatta. Vasudatta, for his part, eager for such a distinguished

alliance, gave that daughter of his to the prince, though he dwelt

in a remote foreign land.

And he loaded his son-in-law with wealth to such an extent that he

no longer felt much respect for his father's magnificence. Then king

Jayadatta dwelt happily with that son of his who had obtained the

daughter of that rich merchant. Now one day the merchant Vasudatta

came, full of desire to see his daughter, to the palace of his

connexion by marriage, and took away his daughter to his own

home. Shortly after the king Jayadatta suddenly went to heaven,

and that kingdom was seized by his relations who rose in rebellion;

through fear of them his son Devadatta was secretly taken away by his

mother during the night to another country. Then that mother distressed

in soul said to the prince--"Our feudal lord is the emperor who rules

the eastern region, repair to him, my son, he will procure you the

kingdom." When his mother said this to him, the prince answered her;

"Who will respect me if I go there without attendants?" When she

heard that, his mother went on to say, "Go to the house of your

father-in-law, and get money there and so procure followers, and then

repair to the emperor." Being urged in these words by his mother,

the prince, though full of shame, slowly plodded on and reached his

father-in-law's house in the evening, but he could not bear to enter

at such an unseasonable hour, for he was afraid of shedding tears,

being bereaved of his father, and having lost his worldly splendour,

besides shame withheld him. So he remained in the verandah of an alms

house near, and at night he suddenly beheld a woman descending with

a rope from his father-in-law's house, and immediately he recognized

her as his wife, for she was so resplendent with jewels that she

looked like a meteor fallen from the clouds, and he was much grieved

thereat, but she, though she saw him, did not recognise him, as he

was emaciated and begrimed, and asked him who he was; when he heard

that, he answered, "I am a traveller;" then the merchant's daughter

entered the alms-house, and the prince followed her secretly to watch

her. There she advanced towards a certain man, and he towards her,

and asking her why she had come so late, he bestowed several kicks

on her. [327] Then the passion of the wicked woman was doubled,

and she appeased him and remained with him on the most affectionate

terms. When he saw that, the discreet prince reflected; "This is not

the time for me to shew anger, for I have other affairs in hand,

and how could I employ against these two contemptible creatures,

this wife of mine and the man who has done me this wrong, this sword

which is to be used against my foes? Or what quarrel have I with

this adulteress, for this is the work of malignant destiny, that

showers calamities upon me, shewing skill in the game of testing

my firmness? It is my marriage with a woman below me in rank that

is in fault, not the woman herself; how can a female crow leave the

male crow to take pleasure in a cuckoo?" Thus reflecting, he allowed

that wife of his to remain in the society of her paramour; for in the

minds of heroes possessed with an ardent desire of victory, of what

importance is woman, valueless as a straw? But at the moment when

his wife ardently embraced her paramour, there fell from her ear an

ornament thickly studded with valuable jewels. And she did not observe

this, but at the end of her interview taking leave of her paramour,

returned hurriedly to her house as she came. And that unlawful lover

also departed somewhere or other. Then the prince saw that jewelled

ornament and took it up; it flashed with many jewel-gleams, dispelling

the gathering darkness of despondency, and seemed like a hand-lamp

obtained by him to assist him in searching for his lost prosperity. The

prince immediately perceived that it was very valuable, and went off,

having obtained all he required, to Kányakubja; there be pledged that

ornament for a hundred thousand gold pieces, and after buying horses

and elephants went into the presence of the emperor. And with the

troops, which he gave him, he marched and slew his enemies in fight,

and recovered his father's kingdom, and his mother applauded his

success. Then he redeemed from pawn that ornament, and sent it to his

father-in-law to reveal that unsuspected secret; his father-in-law,

when he saw that ear-ring of his daughter's, which had come to him in

such a way, was confounded and shewed it to her: she looked upon it,

lost long ago like her own virtue, and when she heard that it had

been sent by her husband, she was distracted and called to mind the

whole circumstance: "This is the very ornament which I let fall in

the alms-house the night I saw that unknown traveller standing there;

so that must undoubtedly have been my husband come to test my virtue,

but I did not recognize him, and he picked up this ornament." While

the merchant's daughter was going through this train of reflection,

her heart, afflicted by the misfortune of her unchastity having been

discovered, in its agony, broke. Then her father artfully questioned

a maid of hers who knew all her secrets, and found out the truth,

and so ceased to mourn for his daughter; as for the prince, after

he recovered the kingdom, he obtained as wife the daughter of the

emperor won by his virtues, and enjoyed the highest prosperity.

So you see that the hearts of women are hard as adamant in daring

sin, but are soft as a flower when the tremor of fear falls upon

them. But there are some few women born in good families, that,

having hearts virtuous [328] and of transparent purity, become like

pearls the ornaments of the earth. And the fortune of kings is ever

bounding away like a doe, but the wise know how to bind it by the

tether of firmness, as you see in my story; therefore those who

desire good fortune must not abandon their virtue even in calamity,

and of this principle my present circumstances are an illustration,

for I preserved my character, O queen, even in this calamity, and that

has borne me fruit in the shape of the good fortune of beholding you.

Having heard this tale from the mouth of that Bráhman woman, the queen

Vásavadattá, feeling respect for her, immediately thought,--"Surely

this Bráhman woman must be of good family, for the indirect way

in which she alluded to her own virtue and her boldness in speech

prove that she is of gentle birth, and this is the reason why she

shewed such tact in entering the king's court of justice,"--having

gone through these reflections, the queen again said to the Bráhman

woman: "Whose wife are you, or what is the history of your life? Tell

me." When she heard that, the Bráhman woman again began to speak--

Story of Pingaliká.

Queen, there was a certain Bráhman in the country or Málava, named

Agnidatta, the home of Fortune and of Learning, who willingly

impoverished himself to help suppliants, and in course of time

there were born to him two sons like himself; the eldest was called

Sankaradatta and the other Sántikara; of these two, oh glorious one,

Sántikara suddenly left his father's house in quest of learning, while

he was still a boy, and went, I know not whither, and the other son

his elder brother married me, who am the daughter of Yajnadatta who

collected wealth for the sake of sacrifice only. In course of time the

father of my husband, who was named Agnidatta, being old, went to the

next world and his wife followed him, [329] and my husband left me,

when I was pregnant, to go to holy places, and through sorrow for his

loss abandoned the body in fire purified by the goddess Sarasvatí;

and when that fact was told us by those who accompanied him in his

pilgrimage, I was not permitted to follow him by my relations, as

I was pregnant. Then, while my grief was fresh, brigands suddenly

swooped down on us and plundered my house and all the royal grant;

immediately I fled with three Bráhman women from that place, for fear

that I might be outraged, taking with me very few garments. And, as

the whole kingdom was ravaged, I went to a distant land accompanied

by them, and remained there a month only supporting myself by menial

drudgery. And then hearing from people that the king of Vatsa was

the refuge of the helpless, I came here with the three Bráhman women,

with no other travelling provision than my virtue; and as soon as I

arrived I gave birth at the same time to two boys. Thus, though I have

the friendly assistance of these three Bráhman women, I have suffered

bereavement, banishment, poverty, and now comes this birth of twins;

Alas! Providence has opened to me the door of calamity. Accordingly,

reflecting that I had no other means of maintaining these children,

I laid aside shame, the ornament of women, and entering into the king's

court I made a petition to him. Who is able to endure the sight of the

misery of youthful offspring? And in consequence of his order, I have

come into your august presence, and my calamities have turned back,

as if ordered away from your door. This is my history: as for my name,

it is Pingaliká, because from my childhood my eyes have been reddened

by the smoke of the burnt-offerings. And that brother-in-law of mine

Sántikara dwells in a foreign land, but in what land he is now living,

I have not as yet discovered.

When the Bráhman woman had told her history in these words, the

queen came to the conclusion that she was a lady of high birth,

and after reflecting, said this to her with an affectionate manner:

"There is dwelling here a foreign Bráhman of the name of Sántikara,

and he is our domestic chaplain; I am certain he will turn out to be

your brother-in-law." After saying this to the eager Bráhman lady,

the queen allowed that night to pass, and the next morning sent for

Sántikara and asked him about his descent. And when he had told her his

descent, she, ascertaining that the two accounts tallied completely,

shewed him that Bráhman lady, and said to him--"Here is your brother's

wife." And when they recognised one another, and he had heard of

the death of his relations, he took the Bráhman lady the wife of his

brother to his own house. There he mourned exceedingly, as was natural,

for the death of his parents and his brother, and comforted the lady

who was accompanied by her two children; and the queen Vásavadattá

settled that the Bráhman lady's two young sons should be the domestic

chaplains of her future son, and the queen also gave the eldest the

name of Sántisoma, and the next of Vaisvánara, and she bestowed on

them much wealth. The people of this world are like a blind man,

being led to the place of recompense by their own actions, going

before them, [330] and their courage is merely an instrument. Then

those two children, and their mother and Sántikara remained united

there, having obtained wealth.

Then once upon a time, as days went on, the queen Vásavadattá beheld

from her palace a certain woman of the caste of potters coming with

five sons, bringing plates, and she said to the Bráhman lady Pingaliká,

who was at her side; "Observe, my friend: this woman has five sons,

and I have not even one as yet, to such an extent is such a one the

possessor of merit, while such a one as myself is not." [331]

Then Pingaliká said, "Queen, these numerous sons are people who

have committed many sins in a previous existence, and are born to

poor people in order that they may suffer for them, but the son that

shall be born to such a one as you, must have been in a former life

a very virtuous person. Therefore do not be impatient, you will soon

obtain a son such as you deserve." Though Pingaliká said this to her,

Vásavadattá, being eager for the birth of a son, remained with her

mind overpowered by anxiety about it. At that moment the king of

Vatsa came and perceiving what was in her heart said--"Queen, Nárada

said that you should obtain a son by propitiating Siva, therefore we

must continually propitiate Siva, that granter of boons." Upon that,

the queen quickly determined upon performing a vow, and when she had

taken a vow, the king and his ministers and the whole kingdom also

took a vow to propitiate Siva; and after the royal couple had fasted

for three nights, that Lord was so pleased that he himself appeared

to them and commanded them in a dream,--"Rise up; from you shall

spring a son who shall be a portion of the god of love, and owing to

my favour shall be king of all the Vidyádharas." When the god, whose

crest is the moon, had said this and disappeared, that couple woke

up, and immediately felt unfeigned joy at having obtained their boon,

and considered that they had gained their object. And in the morning

the king and queen rose up, and after delighting the subjects with

the taste of the nectarous story of their dream, kept high festival

with their relations and servants, and broke in this manner the fast

of their vow. After some days had past, a certain man with matted

locks came and gave the queen Vásavadattá a fruit in her dream. Then

the king of Vatsa rejoiced with the queen, who informed him of that

clear dream, and he was congratulated by his ministers, and supposing

that the god of the moon-crest had given her a son under the form of

a fruit, he considered the fulfilment of his wish to be not far off.

CHAPTER XXII.

Then, in a short time, Vásavadattá became pregnant with a child,

glorious inasmuch as it was an incarnation of the god of Love,

and it was a feast to the eyes of the king of Vatsa. She shone with

a face, the eyes of which rolled, and which was of palish hue, as

if with the moon come to visit her out of affection for the god of

Love conceived in her. When she was sitting down, the two images of

her form, reflected in the sides of the jewelled couch, seemed like

Rati and Príti come there out of regard for their husband. [332]

Her ladies-in-waiting attended upon her like the Sciences that grant

desires, come in bodily form to shew their respect for the future king

of the Vidyádharas [333] conceived in her. At that time she had breasts

with points dark like a folded bud, resembling pitchers intended for

the inaugural sprinkling [334] of her unborn son. When she lay down

on a comfortable couch in the middle of the palace, which gleamed

with pavement composed of translucent, flashing, lustrous jewels,

she appeared as if she were being propitiated by the waters, that had

come there trembling, through fear of being conquered by her future

son, with heaps of jewels on every side. Her image reflected from the

gems in the middle of the chariot, appeared like the Fortune of the

Vidyáharas coming in the heaven to offer her adoration. And she felt

a longing for stories of great magicians provided with incantations by

means of spells, introduced appropriately in conversation. Vidyádhara

ladies, beginning melodious songs, waited upon her when in her dream

she rose high up in the sky, and when she woke up, she desired to

enjoy in reality the amusement of sporting in the air, which would

give the pleasure of looking down upon the earth. And Yaugandharáyana

gratified that longing of the queen's by employing spells, machines,

juggling, and such like contrivances. So she roamed through the air

by means of those various contrivances, which furnished a wonderful

spectacle to the upturned eyes of the citizens' wives. But once on a

time, when she was in her palace, there arose in her heart a desire to

hear the glorious tales of the Vidyádharas; then Yaugandharáyana, being

entreated by that queen, told her this tale while all were listening.

Story of Jímútaváhana.

There is a great mountain named Himavat, the father of the mother

of the world, [335] who is not only the chief of hills, but the

spiritual preceptor of Siva, and on that great mountain, the home

of the Vidyádharas, dwelt the lord of the Vidyádharas, the king

Jímútaketu. And in his house there was a wishing-tree [336], which had

come down to him from his ancestors, called by a name which expressed

its nature, The Giver of Desires. And one day the king Jímútaketu

approached that wishing-tree in his garden, which was of divine

nature, and supplicated it; "We always obtain from you all we desire,

therefore give me, O god, who am now childless, a virtuous son." Then

the wishing-tree said,--"King, there shall be born to thee a son who

shall remember his past birth, who shall be a hero in giving, and

kind to all creatures." When he heard that, the king was delighted,

and bowed before that tree, and then he went and delighted his queen

with the news: accordingly in a short time a son was born to him,

and his father called the son Jímútaváhana. Then that Jímútaváhana,

who was of great goodness, grew up step by step with the growth of his

innate compassion for all creatures. And in course of time, when he

was made Crown-Prince, he being full of compassion for the world said

in secret to his father, who was pleased by his attentions--"I know,

O father, that in this world all things perish in an instant, but the

pure glory of the great alone endures till the end of a Kalpa. [337]

If it is acquired by benefiting others, what other wealth can be, like

it, valued by high-minded men more than life. And as for prosperity,

if it be not used to benefit others, it is like lightning which for a

moment pains the eye, and flickering disappears somewhere or other. So,

if this wishing-tree, which we possess, and which grants all desires,

is employed for the benefit of others, we shall have reaped from it all

the fruit it can give. So let me take such steps as that by its riches

the whole multitude of men in need may be rescued from poverty." This

petition Jímútaváhana made to his father, and having obtained his

permission, he went and said to that wishing-tree, "O god, thou always

givest us the desired fruit, therefore fulfil to-day this one wish of

ours. O my friend, relieve this whole world from its poverty, success

to thee, thou art bestowed on the world that desires wealth!" The

wishing-tree being addressed in this style by that self-denying one,

showered much gold on the earth, and all the people rejoiced; what

other compassionate incarnation of a Bodhisattva except the glorious

Jímútaváhana would be able to dispose even of a wishing-tree in favour

of the needy? For this reason every region of the earth [338] became

devoted to Jímútaváhana, and his stainless fame was spread on high.

Then the relations of Jímútaketu, seeing that his throne was firmly

established by the glory of his son, were envious, and became hostile

to him. And they thought it would be easy to conquer that place, which

possessed the excellent wishing-tree that was employed for bestowing

gifts, on account of its not being strong: then they assembled and

determined on war, and thereupon the self-denying Jímútaváhana said

to his father,--"As this body of ours is like a bubble in the water,

for the sake of what do we desire prosperity, which flickers like

a candle exposed to the wind? And what wise man desires to attain

prosperity by the slaughter of others? Accordingly, my father, I

ought not to fight with my relations. But I must leave my kingdom

and go to some forest or other; let these miserable wretches be,

let us not slay the members of our own family." When Jímútaváhana had

said this, his father Jímútaketu formed a resolution and said to him;

"I too must go, my son, for what desire for rule can I, who am old,

have, when you, though young, out of compassion abandon your realm

as if it were so much grass?" In these words his father expressed his

acquiescence in the project of Jímútaváhana, who then, with his father

and his father's wife, went to the Malaya mountain. There he remained

in a hermitage, the dwelling of the Siddhas, where the brooks were

hidden by the sandal-wood trees, and devoted himself to taking care

of his father. There he struck up a friendship with the self-denying

son of Visvávasu, the chief prince of the Siddhas, whose name was

Mitrávasu. And once on a time the all-knowing Jímútaváhana beheld in

a lonely place Mitrávasu's maiden sister, who had been his beloved

in a former birth. And the mutual gaze of those two young people was

like the catching in a frail net of the deer of the mind. [339]

Then one day Mitrávasu came up suddenly to Jímútaváhana, who deserved

the respect of the three worlds, with a pleased expression, and said

to him, "I have a younger sister, the maiden called Malayavatí; I

give her to you, do not refuse to gratify my wish." When Jímútaváhana

heard that, he said to him, "O prince, she was my wife in a former

birth, and in that life you became my friend, and were like a second

heart to me. I am one who remembers the former state of existence, I

recollect all that happened in my previous birth." When he said this,

Mitrávasu said to him, "then tell me this story of your former birth,

for I feel curiosity about it." When he heard this from Mitrávasu,

the benevolent Jímútaváhana told him the tale of his former birth

as follows:

Story of Jímútaváhana's adventures in a former birth.

Thus it is; formerly I was a sky-roaming Vidyádhara, and once on

a time I was passing over a peak of the Himálaya. And then Siva,

who was below, sporting with Gaurí, being angry at my passing above

him, cursed me, saying, "Descend into a mortal womb, and after

obtaining a Vidyádharí for your wife, and appointing your son in

your place, you shall remember your former birth, and again be born

as a Vidyádhara." Having pronounced when this curse should end, Siva

ceased and disappeared; and soon after I was born upon earth in a

family of merchants. And I grew up as the son of a rich merchant in a

city named Vallabhí, and my name was Vasudatta. And in course of time,

when I became a young man, I had a retinue given me by my father, and

went by his orders to another land to traffic. As I was going along,

robbers fell upon me in a forest, and after taking all my property,

led me in chains to a temple of Durgá in their village, terrible with a

long waving banner of red silk like the tongue of Death eager to devour

the lives of animals. There they brought me into the presence of their

chief named Pulindaka, who was engaged in worshipping the goddess,

in order that I might serve as a victim. He, though he was a Savara,

[340] the moment he saw me, felt his heart melt with pity for me;

an apparently causeless affectionate movement of the heart is a sign

of friendship in a former birth. Then that Savara king, having saved

me from slaughter, was about to complete the rite by the sacrifice

of himself, when a heavenly voice said to him--"Do not act thus, I am

pleased with thee, crave a boon of me,"--thereupon he was delighted,

and said--"O goddess, thou art pleased; what other blessing can I

need, nevertheless I ask so much--may I have friendship with this

merchant's son in another birth also." The voice said--"So be it,"

and then ceased, and then that Savara gave me much wealth, and sent

me back to my own home. And then, as I had returned from foreign

travel and from the jaws of death, my father, when he heard the whole

occurrence, made a great feast in my honour. And in course of time

I saw there that very same Savara chief, whom the king had ordered

to be brought before him as a prisoner for plundering a caravan. I

told my father of it immediately, and making a petition to the king,

I saved him from capital punishment by the payment of a hundred

thousand gold-pieces. And having in this way repaid the benefit,

which he conferred upon me by saving my life, I brought him to my

house, and entertained him honourably for a long time with all loving

attention. And then, after this hospitable entertainment, I dismissed

him, and he went to his own village fixing upon me a heart tender

with affection. Then, while he thought about a present for me that

might be worthy of my return for his previous kindness, he came to

the conclusion that the pearls and musk and treasures of that kind,

which were at his disposal, were not valuable enough. Thereupon he

took his bow and went off to the Himálaya to shoot elephants, in

order to obtain a surpassingly splendid necklace [341] for me. And

while he was roaming about there, he reached a great lake with a

temple upon its shore, being welcomed by its lotuses, which were as

devoted to their friend [342] as he was to me. And suspecting that

the wild elephants would come there to drink water, he remained in

concealment with his bow, in order to kill them. In the meanwhile

he saw a young lady of wonderful beauty come riding upon a lion to

worship Siva, whose temple stood on the shore of the lake; looking

like a second daughter of the king of the snowy mountains, devoted

to the service of Siva while in her girlhood. And the Savara, when

he saw her, being overpowered with wonder, reflected--"Who can this

be? If she is a mortal woman, why does she ride upon a lion? On the

other hand, if she is divine, how can she be seen by such as me? So

she must certainly be the incarnate development of the merits of my

eyes in a former birth. If I could only marry my friend to her, then I

should have bestowed upon him a new and wonderful recompense. So I had

better first approach her to question her." Thus reflecting, my friend

the Savara advanced to meet her. In the meanwhile she dismounted from

the lion, that lay down in the shade, and advancing began to pick the

lotuses of the lake. And seeing the Savara, who was a stranger, coming

towards her and bowing, out of a hospitable feeling she gratified him

with a welcome. And she said to him--"Who are you, and why have you

come to this inaccessible land?" Thereupon the Savara answered her,

"I am a prince of the Savaras, who regard the feet of Bhavání as my

only refuge, and I am come to this wood to get pearls from the heads

of elephants. But when I beheld you just now, O goddess, I called

to mind my own friend that saved my life, the son of a merchant

prince, the auspicious Vasudatta. For he, O fair one, is, like you,

matchless for beauty and youth, a very fount of nectar to the eyes

of this world. Happy is that maiden in the world, whose braceleted

hand is taken in this life by that treasure-house of friendship,

generosity, compassion, and patience. And if this beautiful form

of yours is not linked to such a man, then I cannot help grieving

that Káma bears the bow in vain." By these words of the king of the

hunters the mind of the maiden was suddenly carried away, as if by

the syllables of the god of Love's bewildering spell. And prompted by

love, she said to that Savara, "Where is that friend of yours? Bring

him here and shew him to me." When he heard that, he said--"I will

do so," and that moment the Savara took leave of her and set out on

his journey in high spirits, considering his object attained. And

after he had reached his village, he took with him pearls and musk,

a weight sufficient for hundreds of heavily-laden porters, and came to

our house. There he was honoured by all the inmates, and entering it,

he offered to my father that present, which was worth much gold. And

after that day and that night had been spent in feasting, he related

to me in private the story of his interview with the maiden from the

very commencement. And he said to me, who was all excitement, "Come,

let us go there," and so the Savara carried me off at night just as

he pleased. And in the morning my father found that I had gone off

somewhere with the Savara prince, but feeling perfect confidence in

his affection, he remained master of his feelings. But I was conducted

in course of time by that Savara, who travelled fast, to the Himálaya,

and he tended me carefully throughout the journey.

And one evening we reached that lake, and bathed, and we remained

that one night in the wood eating sweet fruits. That mountain wood,

in which the creepers strewed the ground with flowers, and which was

charming with the hum of bees, full of balmy gales, and with beautiful

gleaming herbs for lamps, was like the chamber of Rati to repose in

during the night for us two, who drank the water of the lake. Then,

the next day that maiden came there, and at every step my mind, full

of strange longings, flew to meet her, and her arrival was heralded

by this my right eye, throbbing as if through eagerness to behold

her. [343] And that maid with lovely eyebrows was beheld by me, on

the back of a knotty-maned lion, like a digit of the moon resting in

the lap of an autumn cloud; and I cannot describe how my heart felt at

that time while I gazed on her, being full of tumultuous emotions of

astonishment, longing, and fear; then that maiden dismounted from the

lion, and gathered flowers, and after bathing in the lake, worshipped

Siva who dwelt in the temple on its banks. [344] And when the worship

was ended, that Savara, my friend, advanced towards her and announcing

himself, bowed, and said to her who received him courteously; "Goddess,

I have brought that friend of mine as a suitable bridegroom for you:

if you think proper, I will shew him to you this moment." When she

heard that, she said, "Shew him," and that Savara came and took me

near her and shewed me to her. She looked at me askance with an eye

that shed love, and being overcome by Cupid's taking possession of her

soul, said to that chieftain of the Savaras; "This friend of yours

is not a man, surely he is some god come here to deceive me to-day:

how could a mortal have such a handsome shape?" When I heard that,

I said myself to remove all doubt from her mind: "Fair one, I am in

very truth a mortal, what is the use of employing fraud against one

so honest as yourself, lady? For I am the son of a merchant named

Mahádhana that dwells in Vallabhí, and I was gained by my father by

the blessing of Siva. For he, when performing austerities to please

the god of the moony crest, in order that he might obtain a son, was

thus commanded by the god in a dream being pleased with him; 'Rise up,

there shall spring from thee a great-hearted son, and this is a great

secret, what is the use of setting it forth at length?' After hearing

this, he woke up, and in course of time I was born to him as a son,

and I am known by the name of Vasudatta. And long ago, when I went to

a foreign land, I obtained this Savara chieftain for a chosen friend,

who shewed himself a true helper in misfortune. This is a brief

statement of the truth about me." When I had said this I ceased; and

that maiden, with her face cast down from modesty, said--"It is so;

to-day, I know, Siva being propitiated deigned to tell me in a dream,

after I had worshipped him,--'To-morrow morning thou shalt obtain

a husband:'--so you are my husband, and this friend of yours is

my brother." When she had delighted me by this nectar-like speech,

she ceased; and after I had deliberated with her, I determined to

go to my own house with my friend, in order that the marriage might

be solemnized in due form. Then that fair one summoned by a sign

of her own that lion, on which she rode, and said to me, "Mount it,

my husband," then I, by the advice of my friend, mounted the lion,

and taking that beloved one in my arms, I set out thence for my home,

having obtained all my objects, riding on the lion with my beloved,

guided by that friend. And living on the flesh of the deer that he

killed with his arrows, we all reached in course of time the city of

Vallabhí. Then the people, seeing me coming along with my beloved,

riding on a lion, being astonished, ran and told that fact quickly

to my father. He too came to meet me in his joy, and when he saw

me dismount from the lion and fall at his feet, he welcomed me with

astonishment.

And when he saw that incomparable beauty adore his feet, and

perceived that she was a fit wife for me, he could not contain

himself for joy. So he entered the house, and after asking us about

the circumstances, he made a great feast, praising the friendship of

the Savara chieftain. And the next day, by the appointment of the

astrologers, I married that excellent maiden, and all my friends

and relations assembled to witness our wedding. And that lion, on

which my wife had ridden, having witnessed the marriage, suddenly

before the eyes of all, assumed the form of a man. Then all the

by-standers were bewildered thinking--"What can this mean?" But he,

assuming heavenly garments and ornaments, thus addressed me: "I am a

Vidyádhara named Chitrángada, and this maiden is my daughter Manovatí

by name, dearer to me than life. I used to wander continually through

the forest with her in my arms, and one day I reached the Ganges,

on the banks of which are many ascetic groves. And as I was going

along in the middle of the river, for fear of disturbing the ascetics,

my garland by accident fell into its waters. Then the hermit Nárada,

who was under the water, suddenly rose up, and angry because the

garland had fallen upon his back, cursed me in the following words:

'On account of this insolence, depart, wicked one, thou shalt become a

lion, and repairing to the Himálaya, shalt carry this daughter upon thy

back. And when thy daughter shall be taken in marriage by a mortal,

then after witnessing the ceremony, thou shalt be freed from this

curse.' After being cursed in these words by the hermit, I became a

lion, and dwelt on the Himálaya carrying about this daughter of mine,

who is devoted to the worship of Siva. And you know well the sequel of

the story, how by the exertions of the Savara chieftain this highly

auspicious event has been brought about. So I shall now depart;

good luck to you all! I have now reached the termination of that

curse." Having said this, that Vidyádhara immediately flew up into

the sky. Then my father, overwhelmed with astonishment at the marvel,

delighted at the eligible connection, and finding that his friends

and relations were overjoyed, made a great feast. And there was not

a single person who did not say with astonishment, reflecting again

and again on that noble behaviour of the Savara chieftain--"Who can

imagine the actions of sincere friends, who are not even satisfied

when they have bestowed on their sworn brothers the gift of life?" The

king of the land too, hearing of that occurrence, was exceedingly

pleased with the affection which the Savara prince had shown me,

and finding he was pleased, my father gave him a present of jewels,

and so induced him immediately to bestow on the Savara a vast forest

territory. Then I remained there in happiness, considering myself

to have attained all that heart could wish, in having Manovatí for a

wife, and the Savara prince for a friend. And that Savara chieftain

generally lived in my house, finding that he took less pleasure in

dwelling in his own country than he formerly did. And the time of

us two friends, of him and me, was spent in continually conferring

benefits upon one another without our ever being satisfied. And not

long after I had a son born to me by Manovatí, who seemed like the

heart-joy of the whole family in external visible form; and being

called Hiranyadatta he gradually grew up, and after having been duly

instructed, he was married. Then my father having witnessed that,

and considering that the object of his life had been accomplished,

being old, went to the Ganges with his wife to leave the body. Then I

was afflicted by my father's death, but having been at last persuaded

by my relations to control my feelings, I consented to uphold the

burden of the family. And at that time on the one hand the sight of

the beautiful face of Manovatí, and on the other the society of the

Savara prince delighted me. Accordingly those days of mine passed,

joyous from the goodness of my son, charming from the excellence of

my wife, happy from the society of my friend.

Then, in course of time, I became well-stricken in years, and old age

seized me by the chin, as it were out of love giving me this wholesome

reproach--"Why are you remaining in the house so long as this, my

son?" Then disgust with the world was suddenly produced in my breast,

and longing for the forest I appointed my son in my stead. And with my

wife I went to the mountain of Kálinjara, together with the king of

the Savaras, who abandoned his kingdom out of love to me. And when I

arrived there, I at once remembered that I had been a Vidyádhara in a

former state of existence, and that the curse I had received from Siva

had come to an end. And I immediately told my wife Manovatí of that,

and my friend the king of the Savaras, as I was desirous of leaving

this mortal body. I said--"May I have this wife and this friend in a

future birth, and may I remember this birth," and then I meditated

on Siva in my heart, and flung myself from that hill side, and so

suddenly quitted the body together with that wife and friend. And so

I have been now born, as you see, in this Vidyádhara family, under

the name of Jímútaváhana, with a power of recollecting my former

existence. And you, that prince of the Savaras, have been also born

again by the favour of Siva, as Mitrávasu the son of Visvávasu the

king of the Siddhas. And, my friend, that Vidyádhara lady, my wife

Manovatí, has been again born as your sister Malayavatí by name. So

your sister is my former wife, and you were my friend in a former

state of existence, therefore it is quite proper that I should marry

her. But first go and tell this to my parents, for if the matter is

referred to them, your desire will be successfully accomplished.

When Mitrávasu heard this from Jímútaváhana, he was pleased, and

he went and told all that to the parents of Jímútaváhana. And when

they received his proposal gladly, he was pleased, and went and

told that same matter to his own parents. And they were delighted

at the accomplishment of their desire, and so the prince quickly

prepared for the marriage of his sister. Then Jímútaváhana, honoured

by the king of the Siddhas, received according to usage the hand of

Malayavatí. And there was a great festival, in which the heavenly

minstrels bustled about, the dense crowd of the Siddhas assembled,

and which was enlivened by bounding Vidyádharas. Then Jímútaváhana was

married, and remained on that Malaya mountain with his wife in very

great prosperity. And once on a time he went with his brother-in-law

Mitrávasu to behold the woods on the shore of the sea. And there he

saw a young man come in an agitated state, sending away his mother,

who kept exclaiming "Alas! my son!" And another man, who seemed to be

a soldier, following him, conducted him to a broad and high slab of

rock and left him there. Jímútaváhana said to him: "Who are you? What

are you about to do, and why does your mother weep for you?" Then

the man told him his story.

"Long ago Kadrú and Vinatá, the two wives of Kasyapa, had a dispute

in the course of a conversation which they were carrying on. The

former said that the Sun's horses were black, the latter that they

were white, and they made an agreement that the one that was wrong

should become a slave to the other. [345] Then Kadrú, bent on winning,

actually induced her sons, the snakes, to defile the horses of the

Sun by spitting venom over them; and shewing them to Vinatá in that

condition, she conquered her by a trick and made her her slave:

terrible is the spite of women against each other! When Garuda the

son of Vinatá heard of that, he came and tried to induce Kadrú by

fair means to release Vinatá from her slavery; then the snakes, the

sons of Kadrú, reflecting, said this to him; 'O Garuda, the gods have

began to churn the sea of milk, bring the nectar thence and give it

to us as a substitute, and then take your mother away with you, for

you are the chief of heroes.' When Garuda heard that, he went to the

sea of milk, and displayed his great might in order to obtain the

nectar. Then the god Vishnu pleased with his might deigned to say

to him, 'I am pleased with thee, choose some boon.' Then Garuda,

angry because his mother was made a slave, asked as a boon from

Vishnu--'May the snakes become my food.' Vishnu consented, and when

Garuda had obtained the nectar by his own valour, he was thus addressed

by Indra who had heard the whole story: 'King of birds, you must take

steps to prevent the foolish snakes from consuming the nectar, and to

enable me to take it away from them again.' When Garuda heard that,

he agreed to do it, and elated by the boon of Vishnu, he went to the

snakes with the vessel containing the nectar.

And he said from a distance to those foolish snakes, who were terrified

on account of the boon granted to him, "Here is the nectar brought

by me, release my mother and take it; if you are afraid, I will

put it for you on a bed of Darbha grass. When I have procured my

mother's release, I will go; take the nectar thence." The snakes

consented, and then he put the vessel of nectar on a pure bed of

Kusa grass, [346] and they let his mother go. So Garuda departed,

having thus released his mother from slavery; but while the snakes

were unsuspectingly taking the nectar, Indra suddenly swooped down,

and bewildering them by his power, carried off the vessel of nectar

from the bed of Kusa grass. Then the snakes in despair licked that

bed of Darbha grass, thinking there might be a drop of spilt nectar

on it; the effect was that their tongues were split, and they became

double-tongued for nothing. [347] What but ridicule can ever be the

portion of the over-greedy? Then the snakes did not obtain the nectar

of immortality, and their enemy Garuda, on the strength of Vishnu's

boon, began to swoop down and devour them. And this he did again and

again. And while he was thus attacking them, the snakes [348] in Pátála

were dead with fear, the females miscarried, and the whole serpent

race was well-nigh destroyed. And Vásuki the king of the snakes,

seeing him there every day, considered that the serpent world was

ruined at one blow: then, after reflecting, he preferred a petition

to that Garuda of irresistible might, and made this agreement with

him--"I will send you every day one snake to eat, O king of birds,

on the hill that rises out of the sand of the sea. But you must not

act so foolishly as to enter Pátála, for by the destruction of the

serpent world your own object will be baffled." When Vásuki said this

to him, Garuda consented, and began to eat every day in this place

one snake sent by him: and in this way innumerable serpents have met

their death here. But I am a snake called Sankachúda, [349] and it

is my turn to-day: for that reason I have to-day, by the command of

the king of the snakes, in order to furnish a meal to Garuda, come

to this rock of execution, and to be lamented by my mother."

When Jímútaváhana heard this speech of Sankachúda's, he was grieved,

and felt sorrow in his heart and said to him, "Alas! Vásuki exercises

his kingly power in a very cowardly fashion, in that with his own

hand he conducts his subjects to serve as food for his enemy. Why did

he not first offer himself to Garuda? To think of this effeminate

creature choosing to witness the destruction of his race! And how

great a sin does Garuda, though the son of Kasyapa, commit! How great

folly do even great ones commit for the sake of the body only! So

I will to-day deliver you alone from Garuda by surrendering my

body. Do not be despondent, my friend." When Sankachúda heard this,

he out of his firm patience said to him,--"This be far from thee,

O great-hearted one, do not say so again. The destruction of a jewel

for the sake of a piece of glass is never becoming. And I will never

incur the reproach of having disgraced my race." In these words the

good snake Sankachúda tried to dissuade Jímútaváhana, and thinking

that the time of Garuda's arrival would come in a moment, he went to

worship in his last hour an image of Siva under the name of Gokarna,

that stood on the shore of the sea. And when he was gone, Jímútaváhana,

that treasure-house of compassion, considered that he had gained an

opportunity of offering himself up to save the snake's life. Thereupon

he quickly dismissed Mitrávasu to his own house on the pretext of some

business, artfully pretending that he himself had forgotten it. And

immediately the earth near him trembled, being shaken by the wind of

the wings of the approaching Garuda, as if through astonishment at his

valour. That made Jímútaváhana think that the enemy of the snakes was

approaching, and full of compassion for others he ascended the stone of

execution. And in a moment Garuda swooped down, darkening the heaven

with his shadow, and carried off that great-hearted one, striking him

with his beak. He shed drops of blood, and his crest-jewel dropped off

torn out by Garuda, who took him away and began to eat him on the peak

of the mountain. At that moment a rain of flowers fell from heaven,

and Garuda was astonished when he saw it, wondering what it could mean.

In the meanwhile Sankachúda came there, having worshipped Gokarna, and

saw the rock of execution sprinkled with many drops of blood; then he

thought--"Alas! surely that great-hearted one has offered himself for

me, so I wonder where Garuda has taken him in this short time. I must

search for him quickly, perhaps I may find him." Accordingly the good

snake went following up the track of the blood. And in the meanwhile

Garuda, seeing that Jímútaváhana was pleased, left off eating and

thought with wonder: "This must be some one else, other than I ought

to have taken, for though I am eating him, he is not at all miserable,

on the contrary the resolute one rejoices." While Garuda was thinking

this, Jímútaváhana, though in such a state, said to him in order to

attain his object: "O king of birds, in my body also there is flesh

and blood; then why have you suddenly stopped eating, though your

hunger is not appeased?" When he heard that, that king of birds, being

overpowered with astonishment, said to him--"Noble one, you are not

a snake, tell me who you are." Jímútaváhana was just answering him,

"I am a snake, [350] so eat me, complete what you have begun, for men

of resolution never leave unfinished an undertaking they have begun,"

when Sankachúda arrived and cried out from afar, "Stop, stop, Garuda,

he is not a snake, I am the snake meant for you, so let him go,

alas! how have you suddenly come to make this mistake?" On hearing

that, the king of birds was excessively bewildered, and Jímútaváhana

was grieved at not having accomplished his desire. Then Garuda,

learning, in the course of their conversation [351] with one another,

that he had begun to devour by mistake the king of the Vidyádharas,

was much grieved. He began to reflect, "Alas! in my cruelty I have

incurred sin. In truth those who follow evil courses easily contract

guilt. But this great-hearted one who has given his life for another,

and despising [352] the world, which is altogether under the dominion

of illusion, come to face me, deserves praise." Thinking thus,

he was about to enter the fire to purify himself from guilt, when

Jímútaváhana said to him: "King of birds, why do you despond? If you

are really afraid of guilt, then you must determine never again to

eat these snakes: and you must repent of eating all those previously

devoured, for this is the only remedy available in this case, it

was idle for you ever to think of any other." Thus Jímútaváhana,

full of compassion for creatures, said to Garuda, and he was pleased

and accepted the advice of that king, as if he had been his spiritual

preceptor, determining to do what he recommended; and he went to bring

nectar from heaven to restore to life rapidly that wounded prince,

and the other snakes, whose bones only remained. Then the goddess

Gaurí, pleased with Jímútaváhana's wife's devotion to her, came in

person and rained nectar on him: by that his limbs were reproduced

with increased beauty, and the sound of the drums of the rejoicing

gods was heard at the same time. Then, on his rising up safe and

sound, Garuda brought the nectar of immortality [353] from heaven,

and sprinkled it along the whole shore of the sea. That made all the

snakes there rise up alive, and then that forest along the shore of the

sea, crowded with the numerous tribe of snakes, appeared like Pátála

[354] come to behold Jímútaváhana, having lost its previous dread

of Garuda. Then Jímútaváhana's relations congratulated him, having

seen that he was glorious with unwounded body and undying fame. And

his wife rejoiced with her relations, and his parents also. Who

would not joy at pain ending in happiness? And with his permission

Sankachúda departed to Rasátala, [355] and without it his glory, of

its own accord, spread through the three worlds. Then, by virtue of the

favour of the daughter of the Himálaya all his relations, Matanga and

others, who were long hostile to him, came to Garuda, before whom the

troops of gods were inclining out of love, and timidly approaching the

glory of the Vidyádhara race, prostrated themselves at his feet. And

being entreated by them, the benevolent Jímútaváhana went from that

Malaya mountain to his own home, the slope of the Himálaya. There,

accompanied by his parents and Mitrávasu and Malayavatí, the resolute

one long enjoyed the honour of emperor of the Vidyádharas. Thus

a course of fortunate events always of its own accord follows the

footsteps of all those, whose exploits arouse the admiration of the

three worlds. When the queen Vásavadattá heard this story from the

mouth of Yaugandharáyana, she rejoiced, as she was eager to hear of

the splendour of her unborn son. Then, in the society of her husband,

she spent that day in conversation about her son, who was to be the

future king of the Vidyádharas, which was suggested by that story, for

she placed unfailing reliance upon the promise of the favouring gods.

CHAPTER XXIII.

Then Vásavadattá on the next day said to the king of Vatsa in private,

while he was surrounded by his ministers;--"My husband, ever since

I have been pregnant with this child, the difficult duty of taking

care of it afflicts my heart; and last night, after thinking over

it long, I fell asleep with difficulty, and I am persuaded I saw a

certain man come in my dream, glorious with a shape distinguished by

matted auburn locks and a trident-bearing hand; and he approaching me,

said as if moved by compassion,--'My daughter, you need not feel at all

anxious about the child with which you are pregnant, I will protect it,

for I gave it to you. And hear something more, which I will tell you

to make you confide in me; a certain woman waits to make a petition

to you to-morrow, she will come dragging her husband with her as a

prisoner, reviling him, accompanied by five sons, begirt with many

relations: and she is a wicked woman who desires by the help of her

relations to get that husband of hers put to death, and all that

she will say will be false. And you, my daughter, must beforehand

inform the king of Vatsa about this matter, in order that that good

man may be freed from that wicked wife.' This command that august one

gave and vanished, and I immediately woke up, and lo! the morning had

come." When the queen had said that, all spoke of the favour of Siva,

and were astonished, their minds eagerly expecting the fulfilment

of the dream; when lo! at that very moment the chief warder entered,

and suddenly said to the king of Vatsa, who was compassionate to the

afflicted, "O king, a certain woman has come to make a representation,

accompanied by her relations, bringing with her five sons, reviling

her helpless husband." When the king heard that, being astonished at

the way it tallied with the queen's dream, he commanded the warder

to bring her into his presence. And the queen Vásavadattá felt the

greatest delight, having become certain that she would obtain a good

son, on account of the truth of the dream. Then that woman entered by

the command of the warder, accompanied by her husband, looked at with

curiosity by all, who had their faces turned towards the door. Then,

having entered, she assumed an expression of misery, and making a

bow according to rule, she addressed the king in council accompanied

by the queen: "This man, though he is my husband, does not give to

me, helpless woman that I am, food, raiment, and other necessaries,

and yet I am free from blame with respect to him."

When she had said this, her husband pleaded--"King, this woman speaks

falsely, supported by her relations, for she wishes me to be put

to death. For I have given her supplies beforehand to last till the

end of the year, and other relations of hers, who are impartial, are

prepared to witness the truth of this for me." When he had said this

to the king, the king of his own accord answered: "The trident-bearing

god himself has given evidence in this case, appearing to the queen

in a dream. What need have we of more witnesses? This woman with her

relations must be punished." When the king had delivered this judgment,

the discreet Yaugandharáyana said, "Nevertheless, king, we must do

what is right in accordance with the evidence of witnesses, otherwise

the people, not knowing of the dream, would in no wise believe in the

justice of our proceedings." When the king heard that, he consented

and had the witnesses summoned that moment, and they, being asked,

deposed that that woman was speaking falsely. Then the king banished

her, as she was plotting against one well known to be a good husband,

from his territory, with her relations and her sons. And with heart

melting from pity he discharged her good husband, after giving him

much treasure sufficient for another marriage. And in connexion with

the whole affair the king remarked,--"An evil wife, of wildly [356]

cruel nature, tears her still living husband like a she-wolf, when he

has fallen into the pit of calamity; but an affectionate, noble, and

magnanimous wife averts sorrow as the shade [357] of the wayside-tree

averts heat, and is acquired by a man's special merits." Then

Vasantaka, who was a clever story-teller, being at the king's side,

said to him à propos of this: "Moreover, king, hatred and affection

are commonly produced in living beings in this world owing to their

continually recalling the impressions of a past state of existence,

and in proof of this, hear the story which I am about to tell."

Story of Sinhaparákrama.

There was a king in Benares named Vikramachanda, and he had a favourite

follower named Sinhaparákrama; who was wonderfully successful in all

battles and in all gambling contests. And he had a wife very deformed

both in body and mind, called by a name, which expressed her nature,

Kalahakárí. [358] This brave man continually obtained much money

both from the king and from gambling, and, as soon as he got it,

he gave it all to his wife. But the shrewish woman, backed by her

three sons begotten by him, could not in spite of this remain one

moment without a quarrel. She continually worried him by yelling out

these words at him with her sons--"You are always eating and drinking

away from home, and you never give us anything." And though he was

for ever trying to propitiate her with meat, drink, and raiment,

she tortured him day and night like an interminable thirst. Then,

at last, Sinhaparákrama vexed with indignation on that account,

left his house, and went on a pilgrimage to the goddess Durgá that

dwells in the Vindhya hills. While he was fasting, the goddess said

to him in a dream: "Rise up, my son, go to thy own city of Benares;

there is an enormous nyagrodha tree, by digging round its root thou

wilt at once obtain a treasure. And in the treasure thou wilt find

a dish of emerald, bright as a sword-blade, looking like a piece of

the sky fallen down to earth; casting thy eyes on that, thou wilt

see, as it were, reflected inside, the previous existence of every

individual, in whatever case thou mayest wish to know it. By means of

that thou wilt learn the previous birth of thy wife and of thyself,

and having learned the truth wilt dwell there in happiness free from

grief." Having thus been addressed by the goddess, Sinhaparákrama woke

up and broke his fast, and went in the morning to Benares; and after

he had reached the city, he found at the root of the nyagrodha tree a

treasure, and in it he discovered a large emerald dish, and, eager to

learn the truth, he saw in that dish that in a previous birth his wife

had been a terrible she-bear, and himself a lion. And so recognising

that the hatred between himself and his wife was irremediable owing to

the influence of bitter enmity in a previous birth, he abandoned grief

and bewilderment. Then Sinhaparákrama examined many maidens by means

of the dish, and discovering that they had belonged to alien races in

a previous birth, he avoided them, but after he had discovered one,

who had been a lioness in a previous birth and so was a suitable

match for him, he married her as his second wife, and her name was

Sinhasrí. And after assigning to that Kalahakárí one village only as

her portion, he lived, delighted with the acquisition of treasure,

in the society of his new wife. Thus, O king, wives and others are

friendly or hostile to men in this world by virtue of impressions in

a previous state of existence.

When the king of Vatsa had heard this wonderful story from Vasantaka,

he was exceedingly delighted and so was the queen Vásavadattá. And the

king was never weary day or night of contemplating the moon-like face

of the pregnant queen. And as days went on, there were born to all of

his ministers in due course sons with auspicious marks, who heralded

approaching good fortune. First there was born to Yaugandharáyana,

the chief minister, a son Marubhúti by name. Then Rumanvat had a

son called Harisikha, and to Vasantaka there was born a son named

Tapantaka. And to the head-warder called Nityodita, whose other title

was Ityaka, [359] there was born a son named Gomukha. And after they

were born a great feast took place, and during it a bodiless voice

was heard from heaven--"These ministers shall crush the race of the

enemies of the son of the king of Vatsa here, the future universal

emperor. And as days went by, the time drew near for the birth of the

child, with which the queen Vásavadattá was destined to present the

king of Vatsa, and she repaired to the ornamented lying-in-chamber,

which was prepared by matrons having sons, and the windows of which

were covered with arka and samí plants. The room was hung with

various weapons, rendered auspicious by being mixed with the gleam

of jewel-lamps, shedding a blaze [360] able to protect the child;

and secured by conjurers who went through innumerable charms and

spells and other incantations, so that it became a fortress of the

matrons hard for calamity to storm, and there she brought forth in

good time a prince of lovely aspect, as the heaven brings forth the

moon from which stream pure nectarous rays. The child, when born,

not only irradiated that room, but the heart also of that mother

from which the darkness of grief had departed; then, as the delight

of the inmates of the harem was gradually extended, the king heard

of the birth of a son from the people who were admitted to it; the

reason he did not give his kingdom in his delight to the person, who

announced it, was, that he was afraid of committing an impropriety,

not that he was avaricious. And so the king, suddenly coming to the

harem with longing mind, beheld his son, and his hope bore fruit

after a long delay. The child had a long red lower lip like a leaf,

beautiful flowing hair like wool, and his whole face was like the

lotus, which the goddess of the Fortune of empire carries for her

delight. He was marked on his soft feet with umbrellas and chowries,

as if the Fortunes of other kings had beforehand abandoned their

badges in his favour, out of fear. Then, while the king shed with

tearful eye, that swelled with the pressure of the fulness of the

weight of his joy, drops that seemed to be drops of paternal affection,

[361] and the ministers with Yaugandharáyana at their head rejoiced,

a voice was heard from heaven at that time to the following effect:

"King, this son that is born to thee is an incarnation of Káma, [362]

and know that his name is Naraváhanadatta; and he will soon become

emperor of the kings of the Vidyádharas, and maintain that position

unwearied for a kalpa of the gods." [363] When so much had been said,

the voice stopped, and immediately a rain of flowers fell from heaven,

and the sounds of the celestial drums went forth. Then the king,

excessively delighted, made a great feast, which was rendered all the

more solemn from the gods having begun it. The sound of cymbals floated

in the air rising from temples, as if to tell all the Vidyádharas of

the birth of their king: and red banners, flying in the wind on the

tops of the palaces, seemed with their splendour to fling red dye to

one another. On earth beautiful women assembled and danced everywhere,

as if they were the nymphs of heaven glad that the god of love had been

born with a body. [364] And the whole city appeared equally splendid

with new dresses and ornaments bestowed by the rejoicing king. For

while that rich king rained riches upon his dependants, nothing but

the treasury was empty. And the ladies belonging to the families of

the neighbouring chieftains came in from all sides, with auspicious

prayers, versed in the good custom, [365] accompanied by dancing

girls, bringing with them splendid presents, escorted by various

excellent guards, attended with the sound of musical instruments,

like all the cardinal points in bodily form. Every movement there

was of the nature of a dance, every word uttered was attended with

full vessels, [366] every action was of the nature of munificence,

the city resounded with musical instruments, the people were adorned

with red powder, and the earth was covered with bards,--all these

things were so in that city which was all full of festivity. Thus

the great feast was carried on with increasing magnificence for many

days, and did not come to an end before the wishes of the citizens

were fully satisfied. And as days went on, that infant prince grew

like the new moon, and his father bestowed on him with appropriate

formalities the name of Naraváhanadatta, which had been previously

assigned him by the heavenly voice. His father was delighted when

he saw him make his first two or three tottering steps, in which

gleamed the sheen of his smooth fair toe-nails, and when he heard

him utter his first two or three indistinct words, shewing his teeth

which looked like buds. Then the excellent ministers brought to the

infant prince their infant sons, who delighted the heart of the king,

and commended them to him. First Yaugandharáyana brought Marubhúti,

and then Rumanvat Harisikha, and then the head-warder named Ityaka

brought Gomukha, and Vasantaka his son named Tapantaka. And the

domestic chaplain Sántikara presented the two twin sons of Pingaliká,

his nephews Sántisoma and Vaisvánara. And at that moment there fell

from heaven a rain of flowers from the gods, which a shout of joy

made all the more auspicious, and the king rejoiced with the queens,

having bestowed presents on that company of ministers' sons. And that

prince Naraváhanadatta was always surrounded by those six ministers'

sons devoted to him alone, who commanded respect even in their boyhood,

[367] as if with the six political measures that are the cause of great

prosperity. The days of the lord of Vatsa passed in great happiness,

while he gazed affectionately on his son with his smiling lotus-like

face, going from lap to lap of the kings whose minds were lovingly

attached to him, and making in his mirth a charming indistinct

playful prattling.

BOOK V.

CHAPTER XXIV.

May Ganesa, painting the earth with mosaic by means of the particles

of red lead flying from his trunk whirled round in his madness, [368]

and so, as it were, burning up obstacles with the flames of his might,

protect you.

Thus the king of Vatsa and his queen remained engaged in bringing

up their only son Naraváhanadatta, and once on a time the minister

Yaugandharáyana, seeing the king anxious about taking care of him,

said to him as he was alone,--"King, you must never feel any anxiety

now about the prince Naraváhanadatta, for he has been created by

the adorable god Siva in your house as the future emperor over the

kings of the Vidyádharas; and by their divine power the kings of the

Vidyádharas have found this out, and meaning mischief have become

troubled, unable in their hearts to endure it; and knowing this, the

god with the moon-crest has appointed a prince of the Ganas, [369]

Stambhaka by name, to protect him. And he remains here invisible,

protecting this son of yours, and Nárada coming swiftly informed

me of this." While the minister was uttering these words, there

descended from the midst of the air a divine man wearing a diadem

and a bracelet, and armed with a sword. He bowed, and then the king

of Vatsa, after welcoming him, immediately asked him with curiosity:

"Who are you, and what is your errand here?" He said, "I was once

a mortal, but I have now become a king of the Vidyádharas, named

Saktivega and I have many enemies. I have found out by my power that

your son is destined to be our emperor, and I have come to see him, O

king." When Saktivega, over-awed at the sight of his future emperor,

had said this, the king of Vatsa was pleased and again asked him

in his astonishment, "How can the rank of a Vidyádhara be attained,

and of what nature is it, and how did you obtain it? Tell me this,

my friend." When he heard this speech of the king's, that Vidyádhara

Saktivega courteously bowing, answered him thus, "O king, resolute

souls having propitiated Siva either in this or in a former birth,

obtain by his favour the rank of Vidyádhara. And that rank, denoted

by the insignia of supernatural knowledge, of sword, garland and so

on, is of various kinds, but listen! I will tell you how I obtained

it. Having said this, Saktivega told the following story, relating

to himself, in the presence of the queen Vásavadattá.

Story of Saktivega king of the Vidyádharas.

There lived long ago in a city called Vardhamána, [370] the ornament

of the earth, a king the terror of his foes, called Paropakárin. And

this exalted monarch possessed a queen of the name of Kanakaprabhá,

[371] as the cloud holds the lightning, but she had not the fickleness

of the lightning. And in course of time there was born to him by that

queen a daughter, who seemed to have been formed by the Creator to

dash Lakshmí's pride in her beauty. And that moon of the eyes of the

world was gradually reared to womanhood by her father, who gave her the

name of Kanakarekhá suggested by her mother's name Kanakaprabhá. Once

on a time, when she had grown up, the king, her father, said to the

queen Kanakaprabhá, who came to him in secret: "A grown up daughter

cannot be kept in one's house, accordingly Kanakarekhá troubles my

heart with anxiety about a suitable marriage for her. For a maiden of

good family, who does not obtain a proper position, is like a song

out of tune; when heard of by the ears even of one unconnected with

her, she causes distress. But a daughter, who through folly is made

over to one not suitable, is like learning imparted to one not fit to

receive it, and cannot tend to glory or merit but only to regret. So I

am very anxious as to what king I must give this daughter of mine to,

and who will be a fit match for her." When Kanakaprabhá heard this,

she laughed and said,--"You say this, but your daughter does not

wish to be married; for to-day when she was playing with a doll and

making believe it was a child, I said to her in fun, 'My daughter,

when shall I see you married?' When she heard that, she answered

me reproachfully: 'Do not say so, you must not marry me to any one;

and my separation from you is not appointed, I do well enough as a

maiden, but if I am married, know that I shall be a corpse; there is

a certain reason for this.' As she has said this to me I have come

to you, O king, in a state of distress; for, as she has refused to be

married, what use is there in deliberating about a bridegroom?" When

the king heard this from the queen, he was bewildered, and going

to the private apartments of the princess he said to his daughter:

"When the maidens of the gods and Asuras practise austerities in

order to obtain a husband, why, my daughter, do you refuse to take

one?' When the princess Kanakarekhá heard this speech of her father's,

she fixed her eyes on the ground and said, Father, I do not desire to

be married at present, so what object has my father in it, and why does

he insist upon it?" That king Paropakárin, when his daughter addressed

him in that way, being the discreetest of men, thus answered her:

"How can sin be avoided unless a daughter is given in marriage? And

independence is not fit for a maiden who ought to be in dependence on

relations? For a daughter in truth is born for the sake of another

and is kept for him. The house of her father is not a fit place for

her except in childhood. For if a daughter reaches puberty unmarried,

her relations go to hell, and she is an outcast, and her bridegroom is

called the husband of an outcast." When her father said this to her,

the princess Kanakarekhá immediately uttered a speech that was in her

mind, "Father, if this is so, then whatever Bráhman or Kshatriya has

succeeded in seeing the city called the Golden City, to him I must

be given, and he shall be my husband, and if none such is found,

you must not unjustly reproach me." When his daughter said that to

him, that king reflected: "It is a good thing at any rate that she

has agreed to be married on a certain condition, and no doubt she

is some goddess born in my house for a special reason, for else how

comes she to know so much though she is a child?" Such were the king's

reflections at that time: so he said to his daughter, "I will do as you

wish," and then he rose up and did his day's work. And on the next day,

as he was sitting in the hall of audience, he said to his courtiers,

"Has any one among you seen the city called the Golden City? Whoever

has seen it, if he be a Bráhman or a Kshatriya, I will give him

my daughter Kanakarekhá, and make him crown-prince." And they all,

looking at one another's faces, said, "We have not even heard of it,

much less have we seen it." Then the king summoned the warder and

said to him, "Go and cause a proclamation to be circulated in the

whole of this town with the beating of drums, and find out if any

one has really seen that city." When the warder received this order,

he said, "I will do so," and went out; and after he had gone out, he

immediately gave orders to the police, and caused a drum to be beaten

all round the city, thus arousing curiosity to hear the proclamation,

which ran as follows: "Whatever Bráhman or Kshatriya youth has seen the

city called the Golden City, let him speak, and the king will give him

his daughter and the rank of crown-prince." Such was the astounding

announcement proclaimed all about the town after the drum had been

beaten. And the citizens said, after hearing that proclamation:

"What is this Golden City that is to-day proclaimed in our town,

which has never been heard of or seen even by those among us who are

old?" But not a single one among them said, "I have seen it."

And in the meanwhile a Bráhman living in that town, Saktideva by

name, the son of Baladeva, heard that proclamation; that youth,

being addicted to vice, had been rapidly stripped of his wealth at the

gaming-table, and he reflected, being excited by hearing of the giving

in marriage of the king's daughter: "As I have lost all my wealth by

gambling, I cannot now enter the house of my father, nor even the house

of a hetæra, so, as I have no resource, it is better for me to assert

falsely to those who are making the proclamation by beat of drum,

that I have seen that city. Who will discover that I know nothing

about it, for who has ever seen it? And in this way I may perhaps

marry the princess." Thus reflecting Saktideva went to the police, and

said falsely, "I have seen that city." They immediately said to him,

"Bravo! then come with us to the king's warder." So he went with them

to the warder. And in the same way he falsely asserted to him that he

had seen that city, and he welcomed him kindly, and took him to the

king. And without wavering he maintained the very same story in the

presence of the king: what indeed is difficult for a blackleg to do

who is ruined by play? Then the king, in order to ascertain the truth,

sent that Bráhman to his daughter Kanakarekhá, and when she heard of

the matter from the mouth of the warder, and the Bráhman came near,

she asked him: "Have you seen that Golden City?" Then he answered her,

"Yes, that city was seen by me when I was roaming through the earth

in quest of knowledge." [372] She next asked him, "By what road did

you go there, and what is it like?" That Bráhman then went on to say:

"From this place I went to a town called Harapura, and from that I

next came to the city of Benares; and from Benares in a few days to the

city of Paundravardhana, thence I went to that city called the Golden

City, and I saw it, a place of enjoyment for those who act aright,

like the city of Indra, the glory of which is made for the delight

of gods. [373] And having acquired learning there, I returned here

after some time; such is the path by which I went, and such is that

city." After that fraudulent Bráhman Saktideva had made up this story,

the princess said with a laugh;--"Great Bráhman, you have indeed seen

that city, but tell me, tell me again by what path you went." When

Saktideva heard that, he again displayed his effrontery, and then

the princess had him put out by her servants. And immediately after

putting him out, she went to her father, and her father asked her:

"Did that Bráhman speak the truth?"--And then the princess said to

her father: "Though you are a king you act without due consideration;

do you not know that rogues deceive honest people? For that Bráhman

simply wants to impose on me with a falsehood, but the liar has never

seen the golden city. And all kinds of deceptions are practised on the

earth by rogues; for listen to the story of Siva and Mádhava, which I

will tell you." Having said this, the princess told the following tale:

Story of Siva and Mádhava.

There is an excellent city rightly named Ratnapura, [374] and in it

there were two rogues named Siva and Mádhava. Surrounding themselves

with many other rogues, they contrived for a long time to rob, by

making use of trickery, all the rich men in the town. And one day

those two deliberated together and said--"We have managed by this

time to plunder this town thoroughly; so let us now go and live in

the city of Ujjayiní; there we hear that there is a very rich man

named Sankarasvámin, who is chaplain to the king. If we cheat him

out of his money we may thereby enjoy the charms of the ladies of

Málava. He is spoken of by Bráhmans as a miser, because he withholds

[375] half their usual fee with a frowning face, though he possesses

treasure enough to fill seven vessels; and that Bráhman has a pearl

of a daughter spoken of as matchless, we will manage to get her too

out of him along with the money." Having thus determined, and having

arranged beforehand what part each was to play, the two rogues Siva

and Mádhava went out of that town. At last they reached Ujjayiní,

and Mádhava, with his attendants, disguised as a Rájpút, remained

in a certain village outside the town. But Siva, who was expert in

every kind of deception, having assumed perfectly the disguise of a

religious ascetic, first entered that town alone. There he took up

his quarters in a hut on the banks of the Siprá, in which he placed,

so that they could be seen, clay, darbha grass, a vessel for begging,

and a deer-skin. And in the morning he anointed his body with thick

clay, as if testing beforehand his destined smearing with the mud of

the hell Avíchi. And plunging in the water of the river, he remained

a long time with his head downward, as if rehearsing beforehand his

future descent to hell, the result of his evil actions. And when he

rose up from his bath, he remained a long time looking up towards

the sun, as if shewing that he deserved to be impaled. Then he went

into the presence of the god and making rings of Kusa grass, [376]

and muttering prayers, he remained sitting in the posture called

Padmásana, [377] with a hypocritical cunning face, and from time to

time he made an offering to Vishnu, having gathered white flowers,

even as he took captive the simple hearts of the good by his villainy;

and having made his offering he again pretended to betake himself to

muttering his prayers, and prolonged his meditations as if fixing his

attention on wicked ways. And the next day, clothed in the skin of a

black antelope, he wandered about the city in quest of alms, like one

of his own deceitful leers intended to beguile it, and observing a

strict silence he took three handfuls of rice from Bráhmans' houses,

still equipped with stick and deer-skin, and divided the food into

three parts like the three divisions of the day, and part he gave to

the crows, and part to his guest, and with the third part he filled

his maw; and he remained for a long time hypocritically telling his

beads, as if he were counting his sins at the same time, and muttering

prayers; and in the night he remained alone in his hut, thinking over

the weak points of his fellow-men, even the smallest; and by thus

performing every day a difficult pretended penance he gained complete

ascendancy over the minds of the citizens in every quarter. And all

the people became devoted to him, and a report spread among them in

every direction that Siva was an exceedingly self-denying hermit.