And in the meanwhile his accomplice, the other rogue Mádhava, having

heard from his emissaries how he was getting on, entered that city;

and taking up his abode there in a distant temple, he went to the

bank of the Siprá to bathe, disguised as a Rájpút, and after bathing,

as he was returning with his retinue, he saw Siva praying in front

of the god, and with great veneration he fell at his feet, and said

before all the people, "There is no other such ascetic in the world,

for he has been often seen by me going round from one holy place to

another." But Siva, though he saw him, kept his neck immoveable out

of cunning, and remained in the same position as before, and Mádhava

returned to his own lodging. And at night those two met together

and ate and drank, and deliberated over the rest of their programme,

what they must do next. And in the last watch of the night Siva went

back leisurely to his hut. And in the morning Mádhava said to one

of his gang, "Take these two garments and give them as a present to

the domestic chaplain of the king here, who is called Sankarasvámin,

and say to him respectfully: 'There is a Rájpút come from the Deccan

of the name of Mádhava, who has been oppressed by his relations, and

he brings with him much inherited wealth; he is accompanied by some

other Rájpúts like himself, and he wishes to enter into the service of

your king here, and he has sent me to visit you, O treasure-house of

glory.'" The rogue, who was sent off by Mádhava with this message, went

to the house of that chaplain with the present in his hand, and after

approaching him, and giving him the present at a favourable moment, he

delivered to him in private Mádhava's message, as he had been ordered;

he, for his part, out of his greed for presents, believed it all,

anticipating other favours in the future, for a bribe is the sovereign

specific for attracting the covetous. The rogue then came back, and

on the next day Mádhava, having obtained a favourable opportunity,

went in person to visit that chaplain, accompanied by attendants,

who hypocritically assumed the appearance of men desiring service,

[378] passing themselves off as Rájpúts, distinguished by the maces

they carried; he had himself announced by an attendant preceding

him, and thus he approached the family priest, who received him with

welcomes which expressed his delight at his arrival. Then Mádhava

remained engaged in conversation with him for some time, and at last

being dismissed by him, returned to his own house. On the next day he

sent another couple of garments as a present, and again approached

that chaplain and said to him, "I indeed wish to enter into service

to please my retainers, for that reason I have repaired to you,

but I possess wealth." When the chaplain heard that, he hoped to get

something out of him, and he promised Mádhava to procure for him what

he desired, and he immediately went and petitioned the king on this

account, and, out of respect for the chaplain, the king consented to do

what he asked. And on the next day the family priest took Mádhava and

his retinue, and presented them to the king with all due respect. The

king too, when he saw that Mádhava resembled a Rájpút in appearance,

received him graciously and appointed him a salary. Then Mádhava

remained there in attendance upon the king, and every night he met

Siva to deliberate with him. And the chaplain entreated him to live

with him in his house, out of avarice, as he was intent on presents.

Then Mádhava with his followers repaired to the house of the chaplain;

this settlement was the cause of the chaplain's ruin, as that of

the mouse in the trunk of the tree was the cause of its ruin. And he

deposited a safe in the strong room of the chaplain, after filling it

with ornaments made of false gems. And from time to time he opened the

box and by cunningly half-shewing some of the jewels, he captivated

the mind of the chaplain as that of a cow is captivated by grass. And

when he had gained in this way the confidence of the chaplain, he made

his body emaciated by taking little food, and falsely pretended that

he was ill. And after a few days had passed, that prince of rogues

said with weak voice to that chaplain, who was at his bedside;

"My condition is miserable in this body, so bring, good Bráhman,

some distinguished man of your caste, in order that I may bestow my

wealth upon him for my happiness here and hereafter, for, life being

unstable, what care can a wise man have for riches?" That chaplain,

who was devoted to presents, when addressed in this way, said,

"I will do so," and Mádhava fell at his feet. Then whatever Bráhman

the chaplain brought, Mádhava refused to receive, pretending that

he wanted a more distinguished one. One of the rogues in attendance

upon Mádhava, when he saw this, said--"Probably an ordinary Bráhman

does not please him. So it will be better now to find out whether

the strict ascetic on the banks of Siprá named Siva pleases him or

not?" When Mádhava heard that, he said plaintively to that chaplain:

"Yes, be kind, and bring him, for there is no other Bráhman like him."

The chaplain, thus entreated, went near Siva, and beheld him

immoveable, pretending to be engaged in meditation. And then he walked

round him, keeping him on his right hand, and sat down in front of

him: and immediately the rascal slowly opened his eyes. Then the

family priest, bending before him, said with bowed head,--"My Lord,

if it will not make you angry, I will prefer a petition to you. There

is dwelling here a very rich Rájpút from the Deccan, named Mádhava,

and he, being ill, is desirous of giving away his whole property:

if you consent, he will give you that treasure which glitters with

many ornaments made out of priceless gems." When Siva heard that, he

slowly broke silence, and said,--"O Bráhman, since I live on alms, and

observe perpetual chastity, of what use are riches to me?" Then that

chaplain went on to say to him, "Do not say that, great Bráhman, do you

not know the due order of the periods in the life of a Bráhman? [379]

By marrying a wife, and performing in his house offerings to the Manes,

sacrifices to the gods and hospitality to guests, he uses his property

to obtain the three objects of life; [380] the stage of the householder

is the most useful of all." Then Siva said, "How can I take a wife,

for I will not marry a woman from any low family?" When the covetous

chaplain heard that, he thought that he would be able to enjoy his

wealth at will, and, catching at the opportunity, he said to him:

"I have an unmarried daughter named Vinayasváminí, and she is very

beautiful, I will bestow her in marriage on you. And I will keep for

you all the wealth which you receive as a donation from Mádhava, so

enter on the duties of a householder." When Siva heard this, having

got the very thing he wanted, he said, "Bráhman, if your heart is

set on this, [381] I will do what you say. But I am an ascetic who

knows nothing about gold and jewels: I shall act as you advise; do

as you think best." When the chaplain heard that speech of Siva's,

he was delighted, and the fool said, "Agreed"--and conducted Siva

to his house. And when he had introduced there that inauspicious

guest named Siva, [382] he told Mádhava what he had done and was

applauded by him. And immediately he gave Siva his daughter, who

had been carefully brought up, and in giving her he seemed to be

giving away his own prosperity lost by his folly. And on the third

day after his marriage, he took him to Mádhava who was pretending to

be ill, to receive his present. And Mádhava rose up and fell at his

feet and said what was quite true, "I adore thee whose asceticism is

incomprehensible." [383] And in accordance with the prescribed form

he bestowed on Siva that box of ornaments made of many sham jewels,

which was brought from the chaplain's treasury. Siva for his part,

after receiving it, gave it into the hand of the chaplain, saying,

"I know nothing about this, but you do." And that priest immediately

took it, saying, "I undertook to do this long ago, why should you

trouble yourself about it?" Then Siva gave them his blessing, and

went to his wife's private apartments, and the chaplain took the

box and put it in his strong room. Mádhava for his part gradually

desisted from feigning sickness, affecting to feel better the next

day, and said that his disease had been cured by virtue of his great

gift. And he praised the chaplain when he came near, saying to him,

"It was by your aiding me in an act of faith that I tided over this

calamity." And he openly struck up a friendship with Siva, asserting

that it was due to the might of Siva's holiness that his life had

been saved. Siva, for his part, after some days said to the chaplain:

"How long am I to feast in your house in this style? Why do you not

take from me those jewels for some fixed sum of money? If they are

valuable, give me a fair price for them." When the priest heard that,

thinking that the jewels were of incalculable value, he consented,

and gave to Siva as purchase-money his whole living. And he made

Siva sign a receipt for the sum with his own hand, and he himself

too signed a receipt for the jewels, thinking that that treasure

far exceeded his own wealth in value. And they separated, taking one

another's receipts, and the chaplain lived in one place, while Siva

kept house in another. And then Siva and Mádhava dwelt together and

remained there leading a very pleasant life consuming the chaplain's

wealth. And as time went on, that chaplain, being in need of cash,

went to the town to sell one of the ornaments in the bazar.

Then the merchants, who were connoisseurs in jewels, said after

examining it, "Ha! the man who made these sham jewels was a clever

fellow, whoever he was. For this ornament is composed of pieces of

glass and quartz coloured with various colours and fastened together

with brass, and there are no gems or gold in it." When the chaplain

heard that, he went in his agitation and brought all the ornaments from

his house, and showed them to the merchants. When they saw them, they

said that all of them were composed of sham jewels in the same way; but

the chaplain, when he heard that, was, so to speak, thunderstruck. And

immediately the fool went off and said to Siva, "Take back your

ornaments and give me back my own wealth." But Siva answered him,

"How can I possibly have retained your wealth till now? Why it has

all in course of time been consumed in my house." Then the chaplain

and Siva fell into an altercation, and went, both of them, before

the king, at whose side Mádhava was standing. And the chaplain made

this representation to the king: "Siva has consumed all my substance,

taking advantage of my not knowing that a great treasure, which he

deposited in my house, [384] was composed of skilfully coloured pieces

of glass and quartz fastened together with brass." Then Siva said,

"King, from my childhood I have been a hermit, and I was persuaded by

that man's earnest petition to accept a donation, and when I took it,

though inexperienced in the ways of the world, I said to him, 'I am no

connoisseur in jewels and things of that kind, and I rely upon you,'

and he consented saying, 'I will be your warrant in the matter.' And

I accepted all the donation and deposited it in his hand. Then he

bought the whole from me at his own price, and we hold from one another

mutual receipts; and now it is in the king's power to grant me help in

my sorest need." Siva having thus finished his speech, Mádhava said,

"Do not say this, you are honourable, but what fault have I committed

in the matter? I never received anything either from you or from Siva;

I had some wealth inherited from my father, which I had long deposited

elsewhere; then I brought that wealth and presented it to a Bráhman. If

the gold is not real gold, and the jewels are not real jewels, then let

us suppose that I have reaped fruit from giving away brass, quartz,

and glass. But the fact that I was persuaded with sincere heart that

I was giving something, is clear from this, that I recovered from a

very dangerous illness." When Mádhava said this to him without any

alteration in the expression of his face, the king laughed and all

his ministers, and they were highly delighted. And those present in

court said, laughing in their sleeves, "Neither Mádhava nor Siva has

done anything unfair." Thereupon that chaplain departed with downcast

countenance, having lost his wealth. For of what calamities is not the

blinding of the mind with excessive greed the cause? And so those two

rogues Siva and Mádhava long remained there, happy in having obtained

the favour of the delighted king.

"Thus do rogues spread the webs of their tongue with hundreds of

intricate threads, like fishermen upon dry land, living by the net. So

you may be certain, my father, that this Bráhman is a case in point. By

falsely asserting that he has seen the City of Gold, he wishes to

deceive you, and to obtain me for a wife. So do not be in a hurry

to get me married; I shall remain unmarried at present, and we will

see what will happen." When the king Paropakárin heard this from his

daughter Kanakarekhá, he thus answered her: "When a girl is grown up,

it is not expedient that she should remain long unmarried, for wicked

people envious of good qualities, falsely impute sin. And people are

particularly fond of blackening the character of one distinguished;

to illustrate this, listen to the story of Harasvámin which I am

about to tell you."

Story of Harasvámin. [385]

There is a city on the banks of the Ganges named Kusumapura,

[386] and in it there was an ascetic who visited holy places, named

Harasvámin. He was a Bráhman living by begging; and constructing a hut

on the banks of the Ganges, he became, on account of his surprisingly

rigid asceticism, the object of the people's respect. [387] And one day

a wicked man among the inhabitants, who could not tolerate his virtue,

seeing him from a distance going out to beg, said, "Do you know what

a hypocritical ascetic that is? It is he that has eaten up all the

children in this town." When a second there who was like him, heard

this, he said, "It is true, I also have heard people saying this." And

a third confirming it said, "Such is the fact." The chain of villains'

conversation binds reproach on the good. And in this way the report

spread from ear to ear, and gained general credence in the city. And

all the citizens kept their children by force in their houses, saying,

"Harasvámin carries off all the children and eats them." And then the

Bráhmans in that town, afraid that their offspring would be destroyed,

assembled and deliberated about his banishment from the city. And

as they did not dare to tell him face to face, for fear he might

perhaps eat them up in his rage, they sent messengers to him. And

those messengers went and said to him from a distance; "The Bráhmans

command you to depart from this city." Then in his astonishment he

asked them "Why?" And they went on to say; "You eat every child as

soon as you see it." When Harasvámin heard that, he went near those

Bráhmans, in order to reassure them, and the people fled before him

for fear. And the Bráhmans, as soon as they saw him, were terrified

and went up to the top of their monastery. People who are deluded by

reports are not, as a rule, capable of discrimination. Then Harasvámin

standing below called all the Bráhmans who were above, one by one,

by name, and said to them, "What delusion is this, Bráhmans? Why do

you not ascertain with one another how many children I have eaten,

and whose, and how many of each man's children." When they heard that,

the Bráhmans began to compare notes among themselves, and found that

all of them had all their children left alive. And in course of time

other citizens, appointed to investigate the matter, admitted that all

their children were living. And merchants and Bráhmans and all said,

"Alas in our folly we have belied a holy man; the children of all

of us are alive; so whose children can he have eaten?" Harasvámin,

being thus completely exonerated, prepared to leave that city, for his

mind was seized with disgust at the slanderous report got up against

him by wicked men. For what pleasure can a wise man take in a wicked

place, the inhabitants of which are wanting in discrimination? Then

the Bráhmans and merchants, prostrating themselves at his feet,

entreated him to stay there, and he at last, though with reluctance,

consented to do so.

"In this way evil men often impute crime falsely to good men,

allowing their malicious garrulity full play on beholding their

virtuous behaviour. Much more, if they obtain a slight glimpse of

any opportunity for attacking them, do they pour copious showers of

oil on the fire thus kindled. Therefore if you wish, my daughter,

to draw the arrow from my heart, you must not, while this fresh youth

of yours is developing, remain unmarried to please yourself, and so

incur the ready reproach of evil men." Such was the advice which

the princess Kanakarekhá frequently received from her father the

king, but she, being firmly resolved, again and again answered him:

"Therefore quickly search for a Bráhman or Kshatriya who has seen

that City of Gold and give me to him, for this is the condition I

have named." When the king heard that, reflecting that his daughter,

who remembered her former birth, had completely made up her mind,

and seeing no other way of obtaining for her the husband she desired,

he issued another order to the effect that henceforth the proclamation

by beat of drum was to take place every day in the city, in order to

find out whether any of the newcomers had seen the Golden City. And

once more it was proclaimed in every quarter of the city every day,

after the drum had been beaten,--"If any Bráhman or Kshatriya has

seen the Golden City, let him speak; the king will give him his own

daughter, together with the rank of Crown-prince." But no one was

found who had obtained a sight of the Golden City.

CHAPTER XXV.

In the meanwhile the young Bráhman Saktideva, in very low spirits,

having been rejected with contempt by the princess he longed for,

said to himself; "To-day by asserting falsely that I had seen the

Golden City, I certainly incurred contempt, but I did not obtain that

princess. So I must roam through the earth to find it, until I have

either seen that city or lost my life. For of what use is my life,

unless I can return having seen that city, and obtain the princess as

the prize of the achievement?" Having thus taken a vow, that Bráhman

set out from the city of Vardhamána, directing his course toward the

southern quarter, and as he journeyed, he at last reached the great

forest of the Vindhya range, and entered it, which was difficult and

long as his own undertaking. And that forest, so to speak, fanned,

with the soft leaves of its trees shaken by the wind, him, who

was heated by the multitudinous rays of the sun; and through grief

at being overrun with many robbers, it made its cry heard day and

night in the shrill screams of animals which were being slain in it

by lions and other noisome beasts. And it seemed, by the unchecked

rays of heat flashed upward from its wild deserts, to endeavour

to conquer the fierce brightness of the sun: in it, though there

was no accumulation of water, calamity was to be easily purchased:

[388] and its space seemed ever to extend before the traveller as

fast as he crossed it. In the course of many days he accomplished

a long journey through this forest, and beheld in it a great lake

of cold pure water in a lonely spot: which seemed to lord it over

all lakes, with its lotuses like lofty umbrellas, and its swans like

gleaming white chowries. In the water of that lake he performed the

customary ablutions, and on its northern shore he beheld a hermitage

with beautiful fruit-bearing trees: and he saw an old hermit named

Súryatapas sitting at the foot of an Asvattha tree, surrounded by

ascetics, adorned with a rosary, the beads of which by their number

seemed to be the knots that marked the centuries of his life, [389]

and which rested against the extremity of his ear that was white with

age. And he approached that hermit with a bow, and the hermit welcomed

him with hospitable greetings. And the hermit, after entertaining

him with fruits and other delicacies, asked him, "Whence have you

come, and whither are you going? Tell me, good sir." And Saktideva

inclining respectfully, said to that hermit,--"I have come, venerable

sir, from the city of Vardhamána, and I have undertaken to go to the

Golden City in accordance with a vow. But I do not know where that

city lies; tell me venerable sir, if you know." The hermit answered,

"My son, I have lived eight hundred years in this hermitage, and I have

never even heard of that city." Saktideva when he heard this from the

hermit, was cast down, and said again--"Then my wanderings through the

earth will end by my dying here." Then that hermit, having gradually

elicited the whole story said to him, "If you are firmly resolved,

then do what I tell you. Three yojanas from here there is a country

named Kámpilya, and in it is a mountain named Uttara, and on it there

is a hermitage. There dwells my noble elder brother named Dírghatapas;

[390] go to him, he being old may perhaps know of that city." When

Saktideva heard that, hope arose in his breast, and having spent the

night there he quickly set out in the morning from that place. And

wearied with the laborious journey through difficult forest country,

he at last reached that region of Kámpilya and ascended that mountain

Uttara; and there he beheld that hermit Dírghatapas in a hermitage,

and he was delighted and approached him with a bow: and the hermit

received him hospitably: and Saktideva said to him, "I am on my way to

the City of Gold spoken of by the king's daughter: but I do not know,

venerable sir, where that city is. However I am bound to find it,

so I have been sent to you by the sage Súryatapas in order that I may

discover where it lies." When he had said this, the hermit answered

him, "Though I am so old, my son, I have never heard of that city

till to-day; I have made acquaintance with various travellers from

foreign lands, and I have never heard any one speak of it; much less

have I seen it. But I am sure it must be in some distant foreign

island, and I can tell you an expedient to help you in this matter;

there is in the midst of the ocean an island named Utsthala, and in

it there is a rich king of the Nishádas [391] named Satyavrata. He

goes to and fro among all the other islands, and he may have seen or

heard of that city. Therefore first go to the city named Vitankapura

situated on the border of the sea. And from that place go with some

merchant in a ship to the island where that Nisháda dwells, in order

that you may attain your object." When Saktideva heard this from

the hermit, he immediately followed his advice, and taking leave

of him set out from the hermitage. And after accomplishing many

kos and crossing many lands, he reached the city of Vitankapura,

the ornament of the sea-shore. There he sought out a merchant named

Samudradatta, who traded with the island of Utsthala, and struck up

a friendship with him. And he went on board his ship with him, and

having food for the voyage fully supplied by his kindness, he set

out on the ocean-path. Then, when they had but a short distance to

travel, there arose a black cloud with rumbling thunder, resembling a

roaring Rákshasa, with flickering lightning to represent his lolling

tongue. And a furious hurricane began to blow like Destiny herself,

whirling up light objects and hurling down heavy. [392] And from the

sea, lashed by the wind, great waves rose aloft like the mountains

equipped with wings, [393] indignant that their asylum had been

attacked. And that vessel rose on high one moment, and the next moment

plunged below, as if exhibiting how rich men are first elevated and

then cast down. And the next moment that ship, shrilly laden with

the cries of the merchants, burst and split asunder as if with the

weight. And the ship being broken, that merchant its owner fell into

the sea, but floating through it on a plank he at last reached another

vessel. But as Saktideva fell, a large fish, opening its mouth and

neck, swallowed him without injuring any of his limbs. And as that

fish was roaming at will in the midst of the sea, it happened to pass

near the island of Utsthala; and by chance some servants of that

king of the fishermen Satyavrata, who were engaged in the pursuit

of small fish, came there and caught it. And those fishermen, proud

of their prize, immediately dragged it along to shew to their king,

for it was of enormous size. He too, out of curiosity, seeing that it

was of such extraordinary size, ordered his servants to cut it open;

and when it was cut open, Saktideva came out alive from its belly,

having endured a second wonderful imprisonment in the womb. [394]

Then the fisher-king Satyavrata, when he saw that young man come

out and bestow his blessing on him, was astonished, and asked him,

"Who are you, and how did this lot of dwelling in the belly of the

fish befall you? What means this exceedingly strange fate that you

have suffered." When Saktideva heard this, he answered that king of

the fishermen: "I am a Bráhman of the name of Saktideva from the city

of Vardhamána; and I am bound to visit the City of Gold, and because

I do not know where it is, I have for a long time wandered far over

the earth; then I gathered from a speech of Dírghatapas' that it was

probably in an island, so I set out to find Satyavrata the king of

the fishermen, who lives in the island of Utsthala, in order to learn

its whereabouts, but on the way I suffered shipwreck, and so having

been whelmed in the sea and swallowed by a fish, I have been brought

here now." When Saktideva had said this, Satyavrata said to him: "I

am in truth Satyavrata, and this is the very island you were seeking;

but though I have seen many islands, I have never seen the city you

desire to find, but I have heard of it as situated in one of the

distant islands." Having said this, and perceiving that Saktideva was

cast down, Satyavrata out of kindness for his guest went on to say:

"Bráhman, do not be despondent; remain here this night, and to-morrow

morning I will devise some expedient to enable you to attain your

object." The Bráhman was thus consoled by the king, and sent off to a

monastery of Bráhmans, where guests were readily entertained. There

Saktideva was supplied with food by a Bráhman named Vishnudatta, an

inmate of the monastery, and entered into conversation with him. And in

the course of that conversation, being questioned by him, he told him

in a few words his country, his family, and his whole history. When

Vishnudatta heard that, he immediately embraced him, and said in a

voice indistinct from the syllables being choked with tears of joy:

"Bravo! you are the son of my maternal uncle and a fellow-countryman of

mine. But I long ago in my childhood left that country to come here. So

stop here awhile, and soon the stream of merchants and pilots that

come here from other islands will accomplish your wish." Having told

him his descent in these words, Vishnudatta waited upon Saktideva with

all becoming attentions. And Saktideva, forgetting the toil of the

journey, obtained delight, for the meeting a relation in a foreign

land is like a fountain of nectar in the desert. And he considered

that the accomplishment of his object was near at hand, for good luck,

befalling one by the way indicates success in an undertaking. So he

reclined at night sleepless upon his bed, with his mind fixed upon

the attainment of his desire, and Vishnudatta, who was by his side,

in order to encourage and delight him at the same time, related to

him the following tale:

Story of Asokadatta and Vijayadatta. [395]

Formerly there was a great Bráhman named Govindasvámin, living on a

great royal grant of land on the banks of the Yamuná. And in course of

time there were born to that virtuous Bráhman two sons like himself,

Asokadatta and Vijayadatta. While they were living there, there arose a

terrible famine in that land, and so Govindasvámin said to his wife;

"This land is ruined by famine, and I cannot bear to behold the misery

of my friends and relations. For who gives anything to anybody? So

let us at any rate give away to our friends and relations what

little food we possess and leave this country. And let us go with

our family to Benares to live there." When he said this to his wife,

she consented, and he gave away his food, and set out from that place

with his wife, sons, and servants. For men of noble soul cannot bear

to witness the miseries of their relatives. And on the road he beheld

a skull-bearing Saiva ascetic, white with ashes, and with matted hair,

like the god Siva himself with his half-moon. The Bráhman approached

that wise man with a bow, and out of love for his sons, asked him

about their destiny, whether it should be good or bad, and that Yogí

answered him: "The future destiny of your sons is auspicious, but you

shall be separated, Bráhman, from this younger one Vijayadatta, and

finally by the might of the second Asokadatta you shall be reunited

to him." Govindasvámin, when that wise man said this to him, took

leave of him and departed overpowered with joy, grief, and wonder;

and after reaching Benares he spent the day there in a temple of

Durgá outside the town, engaged in worshipping the goddess and

such like occupations. And in the evening he encamped outside that

temple under a tree, with his family, in the company of pilgrims who

had come from other countries. And at night, while all were asleep,

wearied with their long journey, stretched out on strewn leaves, and,

such other beds as travellers have to put up with, his younger son

Vijayadatta, who was awake, was suddenly seized with a cold ague-fit;

that ague quickly made him tremble, and caused his hair to stand on

end, as if it had been the fear of his approaching separation from

his relations. And oppressed with the cold he woke up his father,

and said to him: "A terrible ague afflicts me here now, father, so

bring fuel and light me a fire to keep off the cold, in no other way

can I obtain relief or get through the night." When Govindasvámin

heard him say this, he was distressed at his suffering, and said

to him; "Whence can I procure fire now my son?" Then his son said;

"Why surely we may see a fire burning near us on this side, and it

is very large, so why should I not go there and warm my body? So take

me by the hand, for I have a shivering fit, and lead me there." Thus

entreated by his son the Bráhman went on to say: "This is a cemetery,

[396] and the fire is that of a funeral pyre, so how can you go to a

place terrible from the presence of goblins and other spirits, for you

are only a child?" When the brave Vijayadatta heard that speech of his

affectionate father's, he laughed and said in his confidence, "What can

the wretched goblins and other evil ones do to me? Am I a weakling? So

take me there without fear." When he said this so persistently, his

father led him there, and the boy warming his body approached the pyre,

which seemed to bear on itself the presiding deity of the Rákshasas

in visible form, with the smoke of the flames for dishevelled hair,

devouring the flesh of men. The boy at once encouraged his father

[397] and asked him what the round thing was that he saw inside the

pyre. And his father standing at his side, answered him, "This, my son,

is the skull of a man which is burning in the pyre." Then the boy in

his recklessness struck the skull with a piece of wood lighted at the

top, and clove it. The brains spouted up from it and entered his mouth,

like the initiation into the practices of the Rákshasas, bestowed

upon him by the funeral flame. And by tasting them that boy became

a Rákshasa, with hair standing on end, with sword that he had drawn

from the flame, terrible with projecting tusks: so he seized the skull

and drinking the brains from it, he licked it with tongue restlessly

quivering like the flames of fire that clung to the bone. Then be flung

aside the skull, and lifting his sword he attempted to slay his own

father Govindasvámin. But at that moment a voice came out from the

cemetery, "Kapálasphota, [398] thou god, thou oughtest not to slay

thy father, come here." When the boy heard that, having obtained

the title of Kapálasphota and become a Rákshasa, he let his father

alone, and disappeared; and his father departed exclaiming aloud,

"Alas my son! Alas my virtuous son! Alas Vijayadatta!" And he returned

to the temple of Durgá; and in the morning he told his wife and his

eldest son Asokadatta what had taken place. Then that unfortunate man

together with them suffered an attack of the fire of grief, terrible

like the falling of lightning from a cloud, so that the other people,

who were sojourning in Benares, and had come to visit the shrine of the

goddess, came up to him and sympathised heartily with his sorrow. In

the meanwhile a great merchant, who had come to worship the goddess,

named Samudradatta, beheld Govindasvámin in that state. The good man

approached him and comforted him, and immediately took him and his

family home to his own house. And there he provided him with a bath

and other luxuries, for this is the innate tendency of the great, to

have mercy upon the wretched. Govindasvámin also and his wife recovered

their self-command, having heard [399] the speech of the great Saiva

ascetic, hoping to be re-united to their son. And thenceforth he lived

in that city of Benares, in the house of that rich merchant, having

been asked by him to do so. And there his other son Asokadatta grew

up to be a young man, and after studying the sciences learnt boxing

and wrestling. And gradually he attained such eminence in these arts,

that he was not surpassed by any champion on the earth. And once on a

time there was a great gathering of wrestlers at an idol procession,

and a great and famous wrestler came from the Deccan. He conquered

all the other wrestlers of the king of Benares, who was called

Pratápamukuta, before his eyes. Then the king had Asokadatta quickly

summoned from the house of that excellent merchant, and ordered him to

contend with that wrestler. That wrestler began the combat by catching

the arm of Asokadatta with his hand, but Asokadatta seized his arm,

and hurled him to the ground. Then the field of combat, as it were,

pleased, applauded the victor with the resounding noise produced by the

fall of that champion wrestler. And the king being gratified, loaded

Asokadatta with jewels, and having seen his might, he made him his own

personal attendant. So he became a favourite of the king's, and in time

attained great prosperity, for to one who possesses heroic qualities,

a king who appreciates merit is a perfect treasure-house. Once

on a time, that king went on the fourteenth day of the month away

from his capital, to worship the god Siva in a splendid temple in a

distant town. After he had paid his devotions, he was returning by

night near the cemetery when he heard this utterance issue from it:

"O king, the chief magistrate out of private malice proclaimed that I

deserved death, and it is now the third day since I was impaled, and

even now my life will not leave my body, though I am innocent, so I am

exceedingly thirsty; O king, order water to be given me." When the king

heard it, out of pity he said to his personal attendant Asokadatta,

"Send that man some water." Then Asokadatta said, "Who would go there

at night? So I had better go myself." Accordingly he took the water,

and set off. After the king had proceeded on his way to his capital,

the hero entered that cemetery, the interior of which was difficult to

penetrate, as it was filled with dense darkness within; in it there

were awful evening oblations offered with the human flesh scattered

about by the jackals; in places the cemetery was lighted up by the

flaming beacons of the blazing funeral pyres, and in it the Vetálas

made terrible music with the clapping of their hands, so that it

seemed as if it were the palace of black night. Then he cried aloud,

"Who asked the king for water?" And he heard from one quarter an

answer, "I asked for it." Following the voice he went to a funeral

pyre near, and beheld a man impaled on the top of a stake, and

underneath it he saw a woman that he had never seen before, weeping,

adorned with beautiful ornaments, lovely in every limb; like the night

adorned with the rays of the moon, now that the moon itself had set,

its splendour having waned in the dark fortnight, come to worship

the funeral pyre. He asked the woman: "Who are you, mother, and why

are you standing weeping here?" She answered him, "I am the ill-fated

wife of him who is here impaled, and I am waiting here with the firm

intention of ascending the funeral pyre with him. And I am waiting some

time for his life to leave his body, for though it is the third day

of his impalement, his breath does not depart. And he often asks for

that water which I have brought here, but I cannot reach his mouth,

my friend, as the stake is high." When he heard that speech of hers,

the mighty hero said to her: "But here is water in my hand sent to

him by the king, so place your foot on my back and lift it to his

mouth, for the mere touching of another man in sore need does not

disgrace a woman." When she heard that, she consented, and taking

the water she climbed up so as to plant her two feet on the back

of Asokadatta, who bent down at the foot of the stake. Soon after,

as drops of blood unexpectedly began to fall upon the earth and on

his back, the hero lifted up his face and looked. Then he saw that

woman cutting off slice after slice of that impaled man's flesh with

a knife, and eating it. [400]

Then, perceiving that she was some horrible demon, [401] he dragged

her down in a rage, and took hold of her by her foot with its

tinkling anklets in order to dash her to pieces on the earth. She,

for her part, dragged away from him that foot, and by her deluding

power quickly flew up into the heaven, and became invisible. And

the jewelled anklet, which had fallen from her foot, while she was

dragging it away, remained in one of Asokadatta's hands. Then he,

reflecting that she had disappeared after shewing herself mild at

first, and evil-working in the middle, and at the end horror-striking

by assuming a terrible form, like association with wicked men,--and

seeing that heavenly anklet in his hand, was astonished, grieved and

delighted at the same time; and then he left that cemetery, taking

the anklet with him, and went to his own house, and in the morning,

after bathing, to the palace of the king.

And when the king said--"Did you give the water to the man who was

impaled," he said he had done so, and gave him that anklet; and when

the king of his own accord asked him where it came from, he told

that king his wonderful and terrible night-adventure. And then the

king, perceiving that his courage was superior to that of all men,

though he was before pleased with his other excellent qualities,

was now more exceedingly delighted; and he took that anklet in his

joy and gave it with his own hand to the queen, and described to

her the way in which he had obtained it. And she, hearing the story

and beholding that heavenly jewelled anklet, rejoiced in her heart

and was continually engaged in extolling Asokadatta. Then the king

said to her: "Queen, in birth, in learning, in truthfulness and

beauty Asokadatta is great among the great; and I think it would be

a good thing if he were to become the husband of our lovely daughter

Madanalekhá; in a bridegroom these qualities are to be looked for,

not fortune that vanishes in a moment, so I will give my daughter to

this excellent hero." When she heard that speech of her husband's,

that queen approving the proposal said, "It is quite fitting, for the

youth will be an appropriate match for her, and her heart has been

captivated by him, for she saw him in a spring-garden, and for some

days her mind has been in a state of vacancy and she neither hears

nor sees; I heard of it from her confidante, and, after spending an

anxious night, towards morning I fell asleep, and I remember I was

thus addressed by some heavenly woman in a dream, 'My child, thou must

not give this thy daughter Madanalekhá to any one but Asokadatta,

for she is his wife acquired by him in a former birth.' And when I

heard it, I woke up, and in the morning I went myself on the strength

of the dream and consoled my daughter. And now, my husband has of

his own accord proposed the marriage to me. Let her therefore be

united to him, as a spring-creeper to its stalk." When the king's

beloved wife said this to him, he was pleased, and he made festal

rejoicings, and summoning Asokadatta gave that daughter to him. And

the union of those two, the daughter of the king, and the son of the

great Bráhman, was such that each enhanced the other's glory, like

the union of prosperity and modesty. And once upon a time the queen

said to the king, with reference to the anklet brought by Asokadatta:

"My husband, this anklet by itself does not look well, so let another

be made like it." When the king heard that, he gave an order to the

goldsmiths and other craftsmen of the kind, to make a second anklet

like that. But they, after examining it said;--"It is impossible,

O king, to make another like it, for the work is heavenly, not

human. There are not many jewels of this kind upon the earth, so let

another be sought for where this was obtained." When the king and the

queen heard this, they were despondent, and Asokadatta who was there,

on seeing that, immediately said, "I myself will bring you a fellow

to that anklet." And having made this promise he could not give up

the project on which he was resolved, although the king, terrified

at his temerity, endeavoured to dissuade him out of affection. And

taking the anklet he went again on the fourteenth night of the black

fortnight to the cemetery where he had first obtained it; and after

he had entered that cemetery which was full of Rákshasas as it was

of trees, besmirched with the copious smoke of the funeral pyres, and

with men hanging from their trunks [402] which were weighed down and

surrounded with nooses, he did not at first see that woman that he had

seen before, but he thought of an admirable device for obtaining that

bracelet, which was nothing else than the selling of human flesh. [403]

So he pulled down a corpse from the noose by which it was suspended on

the tree, and he wandered about in the cemetery, crying aloud--"Human

flesh for sale, buy, buy!" And immediately a woman called to him from

a distance, saying, "Courageous man, bring the human flesh and come

along with me." When he heard that, he advanced following that woman,

and beheld at no great distance under a tree a lady of heavenly

appearance, surrounded with women, sitting on a throne, glittering

with jewelled ornaments, whom he would never have expected to find in

such a place, any more than to find a lotus in a desert. And having

been led up by that woman, he approached the lady seated as has been

described, and said, "Here I am, I sell human flesh, buy, buy!" And

then the lady of heavenly appearance said to him, "Courageous hero,

for what price will you sell the flesh?" Then the hero, with the

corpse hanging over his shoulder and back, said to her, shewing her

at the same time that single jewelled anklet which was in his hand,

"I will give this flesh to whoever will give me a second anklet like

this one; if you have got a second like it, take the flesh." When

she heard that, she said to him, "I have a second like it, for this

very single anklet was taken by you from me. I am that very woman

who was seen by you near the impaled man, but you do not recognise

me now, because I have assumed another shape. So what is the use of

flesh? If you do what I tell you, I will give you my second anklet,

which matches the one in your hand." When she said this to the hero,

he consented and said, "I will immediately do whatever you say." Then

she told him her whole desire from the beginning: "There is, good sir,

a city named Trighanta on a peak of the Himálayas. In it there lived

a heroic prince of the Rákshasas named Lambajihva. I am his wife,

Vidyuchchhikhá by name, and I can change my form at will. And as fate

would have it, that husband of mine, after the birth of my daughter,

was slain in battle fighting in front of the king Kapálasphota;

then that king being pleased gave me his own city, and I have lived

with my daughter in great comfort on its proceeds up to the present

time. And that daughter of mine has by this time grown up to fresh

womanhood, and I have great anxiety in my mind as to how to obtain for

her a brave husband. Then being here on the fourteenth night of the

lunar fortnight, and seeing you coming along this way with the king,

I thought--'This good-looking youth is a hero and a fit match for

my daughter. So why should I not devise some stratagem for obtaining

him?' Thus I determined, and imitating the voice of an impaled person,

I asked for water, and brought you into the middle of that cemetery

by a trick. And there I exhibited my delusive power in assuming a

false shape and other characteristics, and saying what was false

I imposed upon you there, though only for a moment. And I artfully

left one of my anklets there to attract you again, like a binding

chain to draw you, and then I came away. And to-day I have obtained

you by that very expedient, so come to my house; marry my daughter

and receive the other anklet." When the Rákshasí said this to him,

the hero consented, and by means of her magic power he went with her

through the air to her city. And he saw that city built of gold on

a peak of the Himálayas, like the orb of the sun fixed in one spot,

being weary with the toil of wandering through the heavens. There

he married that daughter of the prince of the Rákshasas, by name

Vidyutprabhá, like the success of his own daring incarnate in bodily

form. And Asokadatta dwelt with that loved one some time in that city,

enjoying great comfort by means of his mother-in-law's wealth. Then

he said to his mother-in-law, "Give me that anklet, for I must now

go to the city of Benares, for I myself long ago promised the king

that I would bring a second anklet, that would vie with the first one

so distinguished for its unparalleled beauty." The mother-in-law,

having been thus entreated by her son-in-law, gave him that second

anklet of hers, and in addition a golden lotus. [404]

Then he left that city with the anklet and the lotus, after promising

to return, and his mother-in-law by the power of her magic knowledge

carried him once more through the air to the cemetery. And then she

stopped under the tree and said to him, "I always come here on the

fourteenth night of the black fortnight, and whenever you come here on

that [405] night, you will find me here under the banyan-tree." When

Asokadatta heard this, he agreed to come there on that night, and

took leave of that Rákshasí, and went first to his father's house. And

just as he was gladdening by his unexpected arrival his parents, who

were grieved by such an absence of his, which doubled their grief for

their separation from their younger son, the king his father-in-law,

who had heard of his arrival, came in. The king indulged in a long

outburst of joy, embracing him who bent before him, with limbs the

hairs of which stood on end like thorns, as if terrified at touching

one so daring. [406] Then Asokadatta entered with him the palace of

the king, like joy incarnate in bodily form, and he gave to the king

those two anklets matched together, which so to speak praised his

valour with their tinkling, and he bestowed on that king the beautiful

golden lotus, as it were the lotus, with which the presiding Fortune

of the Rákshasas' treasure plays, torn, from her hand; then being

questioned out of curiosity by the king and queen he told the story

of his exploits, which poured nectar into their ears. The king then

exclaimed--"Is glittering glory, which astonishes the mind by the

description of wonderful exploits, ever obtained without a man's

bringing himself to display boldness?" Thus the king spake on that

occasion, and he and the queen, who had obtained the pair of anklets,

considered their object in life attained, now that they had such a

son-in-law. And then that palace, resounding with festal instruments,

appeared as if it were chanting the virtues of Asokadatta. And on

the next day the king dedicated the golden lotus in a temple made

by himself, placing it upon a beautiful silver vessel; and the two

together, the vessel and the lotus, gleamed white and red like the

glory of the king and the might [407] of Asokadatta. And beholding them

thus, the king, a devout worshipper of Siva, with eyes expanded with

joy, spoke inspired with the rapture of adoration, "Ah! this lofty

vessel appears, with this lotus upon it, like Siva white with ashes,

with his auburn matted locks. If I had a second golden lotus like

it, I would place it in this second silver vessel." When Asokadatta

heard this speech of the king's, he said, "I, king, will bring you

a second golden lotus;" when the king heard that, he answered him,

"I have no need of another lotus, a truce to your temerity!" Then as

days went on, Asokadatta being desirous of bringing a golden lotus,

the fourteenth day of the black fortnight returned; and that evening

the sun, the golden lotus of the sky-lake, went to the mountain of

setting, as if out of fear, knowing his desire for a golden lotus;

and when the shades of night, brown as smoke, began immediately to

spread everywhere like Rákshasas, proud of having swallowed the red

clouds of evening as if they were raw flesh, and the mouth of night,

like that of an awful female goblin, began to yawn, shining and

terrible as tamála, full of flickering flames, [408] Asokadatta of

his own accord left the palace where the princess was asleep, and

again went to that cemetery. There he beheld at the foot of that

banyan-tree his mother-in-law the Rákshasí, who had again come,

and who received him with a courteous welcome, and with her the

youth went again to her home, the peak of the Himálayas, where his

wife was anxiously awaiting him. And after he had remained some time

with his wife, he said to his mother-in-law, "Give me a second golden

lotus from somewhere or other." When she heard that, she said to him,

"Whence can I procure another golden lotus? But there is a lake here

belonging to our king Kapálasphota, where golden lotuses of this

kind grow on all sides. From that lake he gave that one lotus to my

husband as a token of affection." When she said this, he answered

her, "Then take me to that lake, in order that I may myself take a

golden lotus from it." She then attempted to dissuade him saying,

"It is impossible; for the lake is guarded by terrible Rákshasas;"

but nevertheless he would not desist from his importunity. Then at last

his mother-in-law was with much difficulty induced to take him there,

and he beheld from afar that heavenly lake on the plateau of a lofty

mountain, covered with dense and tall-stalked lotuses of gleaming gold,

as if from continually facing the sun's rays they had drunk them in,

and so become interpenetrated with them.

So he went there and began to gather the lotuses, and while he was

thus engaged, the terrible Rákshasas, who guarded it, endeavoured to

prevent him from doing so. And being armed he killed some of them,

but the others fled and told their king Kapálasphota, [409] and when

that king of the Rákshasas heard of it, he was enraged and came there

himself, and saw Asokadatta with the lotuses he had carried off. And in

his astonishment he exclaimed as he recognised his brother: "What! is

this my brother Asokadatta come here?" Then he flung away his weapon,

and with his eyes washed with tears of joy, he quickly ran and fell at

his feet, and said to him: "I am Vijayadatta, your younger brother,

we are both the sons of that excellent Bráhman Govindasvámin. And by

the appointment of destiny, I became a Rákshasa such as you see, and

have continued such for this long time, and I am called Kapálasphota

from my cleaving the skull on the funeral pyre.

"But now from seeing you I have remembered my former Bráhman nature,

and that Rákshasa nature of mine, that clouded my mind with delusion,

has left me." When Vijayadatta said this, Asokadatta embraced him,

and so to speak, washed with copious tears of joy his body defiled by

the Rákshasa nature. And while he was thus engaged, there descended

from heaven by divine command the spiritual guide of the Vidyádharas,

named Kausika. And he approaching these two brothers, said, "You

and your family are all Vidyádharas, who have been reduced to this

state by a curse, and now the curse of all of you has terminated. So

receive these sciences, which belong to you, and which you must share

with your relations. And return to your own proper dwelling taking

with you your relations." Having said this, the spiritual guide,

after bestowing the sciences on them, ascended to heaven.

And they, having become Vidyádharas, awoke from their long dream,

and went through the air to that peak of the Himálayas, taking with

them the golden lotuses, and there Asokadatta repaired to his wife

the daughter of the king of the Rákshasas, and then her curse came

to an end, and she became a Vidyádharí. And those two brothers went

in a moment with that fair-eyed one to Benares, travelling through

the air. And there they visited their parents, who were scorched with

the fire of separation, and refreshed them by pouring upon them the

revivifying nectar of their own appearance. And those two, who, without

changing the body, had gone through such wonderful transformations,

produced joy not only in their parents, but in the people at large. And

when Vijayadatta's father, after so long a separation, folded him

in a close embrace, he filled full not only his arms, but also his

desire. Then the king Pratápamukuta, the father-in-law of Asokadatta,

hearing of it, came there in high delight; and Asokadatta, being

kindly received by the king, entered with his relations the king's

palace, in which his beloved was anxiously awaiting him, and which

was in a state of festal rejoicing. And he gave many golden lotuses

to that king, and the king was delighted at getting more than he had

asked for. Then Vijayadatta's father Govindasvámin, full of wonder

and curiosity, said to him in the presence of all: "Tell me, my son,

what sort of adventures you had, after you had become a Rákshasa in the

cemetery during the night." Then Vijayadatta said to him--"My father,

when in my reckless frivolity I had cloven the burning skull on the

funeral pyre, as fate would have it, I immediately, as you saw, became

a Rákshasa by its brains having entered my mouth, being bewildered

with delusion. Then I was summoned by the other Rákshasas, who gave

me the name of Kapálasphota, and I joined them. And then I was led

by them to their sovereign the king of the Rákshasas, and he, when he

saw me, was pleased with me and appointed me commander-in-chief. And

once on a time that king of the Rákshasas went in his infatuation to

attack the Gandharvas, and was there slain in battle by his foes. And

then his subjects accepted my rule, so I dwelt in his city and ruled

those Rákshasas, and while I was there, I suddenly beheld that elder

brother of mine Asokadatta, who had come for golden lotuses, and the

sight of him put a stop to that Rákshasa nature in me. What follows,

how we were released from the power of the curse, and thereby recovered

our sciences, [410] all this my elder brother will relate to you." When

Vijayadatta had told this story, Asokadatta began to tell his from the

beginning: "Long ago we were Vidyádharas, and from the heaven we beheld

the daughters of the hermits bathing in the Ganges near the hermitage

of Gálava, [411] and then we fell suddenly in love with them, and

they returned our affection; all this took place in secret, but their

relations, who possessed heavenly insight, found it out and cursed

us in their anger: 'May you two wicked ones be born both of you to a

mortal woman, and then you shall be separated in a marvellous manner,

but when the second of you shall behold the first arrived in a distant

land, inaccessible to man, and shall recognise him, then you shall

have your magic knowledge restored to you by the spiritual preceptor

of the Vidyádharas, and you shall again become Vidyádharas, released

from the curse and re-united to your friends.' Having been cursed in

this way by those hermits, we were both born here in this land, and

you know the whole story of our separation, and now by going to the

city of the king of the Rákshasas, by virtue of my mother-in-law's

magic power, to fetch the golden lotuses, I have found this younger

brother of mine. And in that very place we obtained the sciences from

our preceptor Prajnaptikausika, and suddenly becoming Vidyádharas

we have quickly arrived here." Thus Asokadatta spoke, and then that

hero of various adventures, delighted at having escaped the darkness

of the curse, bestowed on his parents and his beloved, the daughter

of the king, his own wonderful sciences of many kinds, so that their

minds were suddenly awakened, and they became Vidyádharas. Then the

happy hero took leave of the king, and with his brother, his parents,

and his two wives, flew up, and quickly reached through the air the

palace of his emperor. There he beheld him, and received his orders,

and so did his brother, and he bore henceforth the name of Asokavega,

and his brother of Vijayavega. And both the brothers, having become

noble Vidyádhara youths, went, accompanied by their relations,

to the splendid mountain named Govindakúta, which now became their

home. And Pratápamukuta the king of Benares, overpowered by wonder,

placed one of the golden lotuses in the second vessel in his temple,

and offered to Siva the other golden lotuses presented by Asokadatta,

and delighted with the honour of his connexion, considered his family

highly fortunate.

"Thus divine persons become incarnate for some reason, and are born

in this world of men, and possessing their native virtue and courage,

attain successes which it is hard to win. So I am persuaded that you, O

sea of courage, are some portion of a divinity, and will attain success

as you desire; daring in achievements hard to accomplish even by the

great, generally indicates a surpassingly excellent nature. Moreover

the princess Kanakarekhá, whom you love, must surely be a heavenly

being, otherwise being a mere child how could she desire a husband

that has seen the Golden City?" Having heard in secret this long and

interesting story from Vishnudatta, Saktideva desiring in his heart to

behold the Golden City, and supporting himself with resolute patience,

managed to get through the night.

CHAPTER XXVI.

The next morning, while Saktideva was dwelling in the monastery in

the island of Utsthala, Satyavrata, the king of the fishermen, came to

him, and said to him in accordance with the promise which he had made

before, "Bráhman, I have thought of a device for accomplishing your

wish; there is a fair isle in the middle of the sea named Ratnakúta,

and in it there is a temple of the adorable Vishnu founded by the

Ocean, and on the twelfth day of the white fortnight of Áshádha there

is a festival there with a procession, and people come there diligently

from all the islands to offer worship. It is possible that some one

there might know about the Golden City, so come let us go there,

for that day is near." When Satyavrata made this proposal, Saktideva

consented gladly, and took with him the provisions for the journey

furnished by Vishnudatta. Then he went on board the ship brought by

Satyavrata, and quickly set out with him on the ocean-path, and as

he was going with Satyavrata on the home of marvels [412] in which

the monsters resembled islands, he asked the king, who was steering

the ship, "What is this enormous object which is seen in the sea far

off in this direction, looking like a huge mountain equipped with

wings rising at will out of the sea?" Then Satyavrata said: "Bráhman,

this is a banyan-tree, [413] underneath it they say that there is

a gigantic whirlpool, the mouth of the submarine fire. And we must

take care in passing this way to avoid that spot, for those who once

enter that whirlpool never return again." While Satyavrata was thus

speaking, the ship began to be carried in that very direction by the

force of the wind; [414] when Satyavrata saw this, he again said to

Saktideva: "Bráhman, it is clear that the time of our destruction

has now arrived, for see, this ship suddenly drifts [415] in that

direction. And now I cannot anyhow prevent it, so we are certain

to be cast into that deep whirlpool, as into the mouth of death,

by the sea which draws us on as if it were mighty fate, the result

of our deeds. And it grieves me not for myself, for whose body is

continuing? But it grieves me to think that your desire has not been

accomplished in spite of all your toils, so while I keep back this

ship for a moment, quickly climb on to the boughs of this banyan-tree,

perhaps some expedient may present itself for saving the life of one

of such noble form, for who can calculate the caprices of fate or

the waves of the sea?" While the heroic Satyavrata was saying this,

the ship drew near the tree; at that moment Saktideva made a leap

in his terror, and caught a broad branch of that marine banyan-tree,

[416] but Satyavrata's body and ship, which he offered for another,

were swept down into the whirlpool, and he entered the mouth of the

submarine fire. But Saktideva, though he had escaped to the bough of

that tree, which filled the regions with its branches, was full of

despair and reflected--"I have not beheld that Golden City, and I am

perishing in an uninhabited place, moreover I have also brought about

the death of that king of the fishermen. Or rather who can resist the

awful goddess of Destiny, that ever places her foot upon the heads of

all men?" [417] While the Bráhman youth was thus revolving thoughts

suited to the occasion on the trunk of the tree, the day came to an

end. And in the evening he saw many enormous birds, of the nature of

vultures, coming into that banyan-tree from all quarters, filling the

sides of heaven with their cries, and the waves of the sea, that was

lashed by the wind of their broad wings, appeared as if running to

meet them out of affection produced by long acquaintance.

Then he, concealed by the dense leaves, overheard the conversation of

those birds perched on the branches, which was carried on in human

language. One described some distant island, another a mountain,

another a distant region as the place where he had gone to roam

during the day, but an old bird among them said, "I went to-day to

the Golden City to disport myself, and to-morrow morning I shall go

there again to feed at my ease, for what is the use of my taking a

long and fatiguing journey?" Saktideva's sorrow was removed by that

speech of the bird's, which resembled a sudden shower of nectar, and

he thought to himself, "Bravo! that city does exist, and now I have an

instrument for reaching it, this gigantic bird given me as a means of

conveyance." Thinking thus, Saktideva slowly advanced and hid himself

among the back-feathers of that bird while it was asleep, and next

morning, when the other birds went off in different directions, that

vulture exhibiting a strange partiality to the Bráhman like destiny,

[418] carrying Saktideva unseen on his back where he had climbed up,

went immediately to the Golden City to feed again. [419] Then the bird

alighted in a garden, and Saktideva got down from its back unobserved

and left it, but while he was roaming about there, he saw two women

engaged in gathering flowers; he approached them slowly, who were

astonished at his appearance, and he asked them, "What place is this,

good ladies, and who are you?" And they said to him: "Friend, this

is a city called the Golden City, a seat of the Vidyádharas, and in

it there dwells a Vidyádharí, named Chandraprabhá, and know that we

are the gardeners in her garden, and we are gathering these flowers

for her." Then the Bráhman said; "Obtain for me an interview with

your mistress here." When they heard this, they consented, and the

two women conducted the young man to the palace in their city. When

he reached it, he saw that it was glittering with pillars of precious

stones, and had walls of gold, [420] as it were the very rendezvous of

prosperity. And all the attendants, when they saw him arrived there,

went and told Chandraprabhá the marvellous tidings of the arrival of

a mortal; then she gave a command to the warder, and immediately had

the Bráhman brought into the palace and conducted into her presence;

when he entered, he beheld her there giving a feast to his eyes,

like the Creator's ability to create marvels, represented in bodily

form. And she rose from her jewelled couch, while he was still far off,

and honoured him with a welcome herself, overpowered by beholding

him. And when he had taken a seat, she asked him, "Auspicious sir,

who are you, that have come here in such guise, and how did you

reach this land inaccessible to men?" When Chandraprabhá in her

curiosity asked him this question, Saktideva told her his country

and his birth and his name, and he related to her how he had come in

order to obtain the princess Kanakarekhá as the reward of beholding

the Golden City. When Chandraprabhá heard that, she thought a little

and heaved a deep sigh, and said to Saktideva in private; "Listen,

I am now about to tell you something, fortunate sir. There is in this

land a king of the Vidyádharas named Sasikhanda, and we four daughters

were born to him in due course; I am the eldest Chandraprabhá, and

the next is Chandrarekhá, and the third is Sasirekhá and the fourth

Sasiprabhá. We gradually grew up to womanhood in our father's house,

and once upon a time those three sisters of mine went together to the

shore of the Ganges to bathe, while I was detained at home by illness;

then they began to play in the water, and in the insolence of youth

they sprinkled with water a hermit named Agryatapas, while he was

in the stream. That hermit in his wrath cursed those girls, who had

carried their merriment too far, saying:--"You wicked maidens, be born

all of you in the world of mortals." When our father heard that, he

went and pacified the great hermit, and the hermit told how the curse

of each of them severally should end, and appointed to each of them

in her mortal condition the power of remembering her former existence,

supplemented with divine insight. Then, they having left their bodies

and gone to the world of men, my father bestowed on me this city,

and in his grief went to the forest, but while I was dwelling here,

the goddess Durgá informed me in a dream that a mortal should become my

husband. For this reason, though my father has recommended to me many

Vidyádhara suitors, I have rejected them all and remained unmarried

up to this day. But now I am subdued by your wonderful arrival and

by your handsome form, and I give myself to you; so I will go on

the approaching fourteenth day of the lunar fortnight to the great

mountain called Rishabha to entreat my father for your sake, for

all the most excellent Vidyádharas assemble there from all quarters

on that day to worship the god Siva, and my father comes there too,

and after I have obtained his permission, I will return here quickly;

then marry me. Now rise up."

Having said this, Chandraprabhá supplied Saktideva with various kinds

of luxuries suited to Vidyádharas, and while he remained there,

he was as much refreshed, as one heated by a forest conflagration

would be by bathing in a lake of nectar. And when the fourteenth day

had arrived, Chandraprabhá said to him: "To-day I go to entreat my

father's permission to marry you, and all my attendants will go with

me. But you must not be grieved at being left alone for two days,

moreover, while you remain alone in this palace, you must by no means

ascend the middle terrace." When Chandraprabhá had said this to that

young Bráhman, she set out on her journey leaving her heart with him,

and escorted on her way by his. And Saktideva, remaining there alone,

wandered from one magnificent part of the palace to another, to delight

his mind; and then he felt a curiosity to know why that daughter of the

Vidyádhara had forbidden him to ascend the roof of the palace, and so

he ascended that middle terrace of the palace, for men are generally

inclined to do that which is forbidden: and when he had ascended it, he

saw three concealed pavilions, and he entered one of them, the door of

which was open, and when he had entered it he saw a certain woman lying

on a magnificently jewelled sofa, on which there was a mattress placed,

whose body was hidden by a sheet. But when he lifted up the sheet and

looked, he beheld lying dead in that guise that beautiful maiden, the

daughter of king Paropakárin; and when he saw her there, he thought,

"What is this great wonder? Is she sleeping a sleep from which there

is no awaking, or is it a complete delusion on my part? That woman,

for whose sake I have travelled to this foreign land, is lying here

without breath, though she is alive in my own country, and she still

retains her beauty unimpaired, so I may be certain that this is all

a magic show, which the Creator for some reason or other exhibits

to beguile me." Thinking thus, he proceeded to enter in succession

those other two pavilions, and he beheld within them in the same

way two other maidens; then he went in his astonishment out of the

palace, and sitting down he remained looking at a very beautiful

lake below it, and on its bank he beheld a horse with a jewelled

saddle; so he descended immediately from where he was, and out of

curiosity approached its side; and seeing that it had no rider on it,

he tried to mount it, and that horse struck him with its heel and

flung him into the lake. And after he had sunk beneath the surface

of the lake, he quickly rose up to his astonishment from the middle

of a garden-lake in his own city of Vardhamána; and he saw himself

suddenly standing in the water of a lake in his own native city, like

the kumuda plants, miserable without the light of the moon. [421] He

reflected "How different is this city of Vardhamána from that city

of the Vidyádharas! Alas! what is this great display of marvellous

delusion? Alas! I, ill-fated wretch, am wonderfully deceived by some

strange power; or rather, who on this earth knows what is the nature

of destiny?" Thus reflecting Saktideva rose from the midst of the lake,

and went in a state of wonder to his own father's house. There he made

a false representation, giving as an excuse for his absence that he

had been himself going about with a drum, and being gladly welcomed

by his father he remained with his delighted relations; and on the

second day he went outside his house, and heard again these words

being proclaimed in the city by beat of drum,--"Let whoever, being

a Bráhman or a Kshatriya, has really seen the Golden City, say so:

the king will give him his daughter, and make him crown-prince." Then

Saktideva hearing that, having successfully accomplished the task,

again went and said to those who were proclaiming this by beat of

drum,--"I have seen that city." And they took him before that king, and

the king recognising him, supposed that he was again saying what was

untrue, as he had done before. But he said--"If I say what is false,

and if I have not really seen that city, I desire now to be punished

with death; let the princess herself examine me." When he said this,

the king went and had his daughter summoned by his servants. She,

when she saw that Bráhman, whom she had seen before, again said to

the king; "My father, he will tell us some falsehood again." Then

Saktideva said to her,--"Princess, whether I speak truly or falsely,

be pleased to explain this point which excites my curiosity. How is

it that I saw you lying dead on a sofa in the golden city, and yet

see you here alive?" When the princess Kanakarekhá had been asked

this question by Saktideva, and furnished with this token of his

truth, she said in the presence of her father: "It is true that this

great-hearted one has seen that city, and in a short time he will be

my husband, when I return to dwell there. And there he will marry

my other three sisters; and he will govern as king the Vidyádharas

in that city. But I must to-day enter my own body and that city, for

I have been born here in your house owing to the curse of a hermit,

who moreover appointed that my curse should end in the following way,

'When you shall be wearing a human form, and a man, having beheld your

body in the Golden City, shall reveal the truth, then you shall be

freed from your curse, and that man shall become your husband.' And

though I am in a human body I remember my origin, and I possess

supernatural knowledge, so I will now depart to my own Vidyádhara

home, to a happy fortune." Saying this the princess left her body,

and vanished, and a confused cry arose in the palace. And Saktideva,

who had now lost both the maidens, thinking over the two beloved ones

whom he had gained by various difficult toils, and who yet were not

gained, and not only grieved but blaming himself, with his desires not

accomplished, left the king's palace and in a moment went through the

following train of thought: "Kanakarekhá said that I should attain

my desire; so why do I despond, for success depends upon courage? I

will again go to the Golden City by the same path, and destiny will

without doubt again provide me with a means of getting there." Thus

reflecting Saktideva set out from that city, for resolute men who

have once undertaken a project do not turn back without accomplishing

their object. And journeying on, he again reached after a long time

that city named Vitankapura, situated on the shore of the sea. And

there he saw the merchant coming to meet him, with whom he originally

went to sea, and whose ship was wrecked there. He thought, "Can this

be Samudradatta, and how can he have escaped after falling into the

sea? But how can it be otherwise? I myself am a strange illustration

of its possibility." While he approached the merchant thinking thus,

the merchant recognised him, and embraced him in his delight, and he

took him to his own house and after entertaining him, asked him--"When

the ship foundered, how did you escape from the sea?" Saktideva then

told him his whole history, how, after being swallowed by a fish,

he first reached the island of Utsthala, and then he asked the good

merchant in his turn: "Tell me also how you escaped from the sea." Then

the merchant said, "After I fell into the sea that time, I remained

floating for three days supported on a plank. Then a ship suddenly came

that way, and I, crying out, was descried by those in her, and taken on

board her. And when I got on board, I saw my own father who had gone

to a distant island long before, and was now returning after a long

absence. My father, when he saw me, recognised me, and embracing me

asked my story with tears, and I told it him as follows--'My father,

you had been away for a long time and had not returned, and so I set

about trading myself, thinking it was my proper employment; then on

my way to a distant island my ship was wrecked, and I was plunged

in the sea, and you have found me and rescued me.' When I had said

this to him, my father asked me reproachfully--'Why do you run such

risks? For I possess wealth, my son, and I am engaged in acquiring

it, see, I have brought you back this ship full of gold.' Thus spoke

my father to me, and comforting me took me home in that very ship

to my own dwelling in Vitankapura." When Saktideva had heard this

account from the merchant, and had rested that night, he said to him

on the next day--"Great merchant, I must once more go to the island

of Utsthala, so tell me how I can get there now." The merchant said

to him--"Some agents of mine are preparing to go there to-day, so

go on board the ship, and set out with them." Thereupon the Bráhman

set out with the merchant's agents to go to that island of Utsthala,

and by chance the sons of the king of the fishermen saw him there,

and when they were near him, they recognised him and said,--"Bráhman,

you went with our father to search here and there for the Golden

City, and how is it that you have come back here to-day alone?" Then

Saktideva said, "Your father, when out at sea, fell into the mouth

of the submarine fire, his ship having been dragged down by the

current." When those sons of the fisher-king heard that, they were

angry and said to their servants--"Bind this wicked man, for he has

murdered our father. Otherwise how could it have happened that, when

two men were in the same ship, one should have fallen into the mouth

of the submarine fire, and the other escaped it. So we must to-morrow

morning sacrifice our father's murderer in front of the goddess Durgá,

treating him as a victim." Having said this to their servants, those

sons of the fisher-king bound Saktideva, and took him off to the awful

temple of Durgá, the belly of which was enlarged, as if it continually

swallowed many lives, and which was like the mouth of death devouring

tamála with projecting teeth. There Saktideva remained bound during

the night in fear for his life, and he thus prayed to the goddess

Durgá,--"Adorable one, granter of boons, thou didst deliver the world

with thy form which was like the orb of the rising sun, appearing as

if it had drunk its fill of the blood gushing freely from the throat

of the giant Ruru; [422] therefore deliver me, thy constant votary,

who have come a long distance out of desire to obtain my beloved,

but am now fallen without cause into the power of my enemies." Thus

he prayed to the goddess, and with difficulty went off to sleep,

and in the night he saw a woman come out of the inner cell of the

temple; that woman of heavenly beauty came up to him, and said with a

compassionate manner, "Do not fear, Saktideva, no harm shall happen

to you. The sons of that fisher-king have a sister named Vindumatí,

that maiden shall see you in the morning and claim you for a husband,

and you must agree to that, she will bring about your deliverance:

and she is not of the fisher-caste: for she is a celestial female

degraded in consequence of a curse." When he heard this, he woke up,

and in the morning that fisher-maiden came to the temple, a shower of

nectar to his eyes. And announcing herself, she came up to him and

said in her eagerness, "I will have you released from this prison,

therefore do what I desire. For I have refused all these suitors

approved of by my brothers, but the moment I saw you, love arose in

my soul, therefore marry me." When Vindumatí, the daughter of the

fisher-king, said this to him, Saktideva remembering his dream,

accepted her proposal gladly; she procured his release, and he

married that fair one, whose wish was gratified by her brothers

receiving the command to do so from Durgá in a dream. And he lived

there with that heavenly creature that had assumed a human form,

obtained solely by his merits in a former life, as if with happy

success. And one day, as he was standing upon the roof of his palace,

he saw a Chandála coming along with a load of cow's flesh, and he

said to his beloved--"Look, slender one! how can this evildoer eat

the flesh of cows, those animals that are the object of veneration to

the three worlds?" Then Vindumatí, hearing that, said to her husband;

"The wickedness of this act is inconceivable, what can we say in

palliation of it. I have been born in this race of fishermen for a

very small offence owing to the might of cows, but what can atone for

this man's sin?" When she said this, Saktideva said to her;--"That

is wonderful: tell me, my beloved, who you are, and how you came

to be born in a family of fishermen." When he asked this with much

importunity, she said to him, "I will tell you, though it is a secret,

if you promise to do what I ask you." He affirmed with an oath;

"Yes, I will do what you ask me."

She then told him first what she desired him to do; "In this island you

will soon marry another wife, and she, my husband, will soon became

pregnant, and in the eighth month of her pregnancy you must cut her

open and take out the child, and you must feel no compunction about

it." Thus she said, and he was astonished, exclaiming, "What can this

mean?" and he was full of horror, but that daughter of the fisher-king

went on to say, "This request of mine you must perform for a certain

reason; now hear who I am, and how I came to be born in a family of

fishermen. Long ago in a former birth I was a certain Vidyádharí, and

now I have fallen into the world of men in consequence of a curse. For

when I was a Vidyádharí, I bit asunder some strings with my teeth

and fastened them to lyres, and it is owing to that that I have been

born here in the house of a fisherman. So, if such a degradation is

brought about by touching the mouth with the dry sinew of a cow, much

more terrible must be the result of eating cow's flesh!" While she was

saying this, one of her brothers rushed in in a state of perturbation,

and said to Saktideva, "Rise up, an enormous boar has appeared from

somewhere or other, and after slaying innumerable persons is coming

this way in its pride, towards us." When Saktideva heard that, he

descended from his palace, and mounting a horse, spear in hand,

[423] he galloped to meet the boar, and struck it the moment he

saw it, but when the hero attacked him the boar fled, and managed,

though wounded, to enter a cavern: and Saktideva entered there in

pursuit of him, and immediately beheld a great garden-shrubbery with

a house. And when he was there, he beheld a maiden of very wonderful

beauty, coming in a state of agitation to meet him, as if it were

the goddess of the wood advancing to receive him out of love.

And he asked her,--"Auspicious lady, who are you, and why are you

perturbed?"--Hearing that, the lovely one thus answered him; "There is

a king of the name of Chandavikrama, lord of the southern region. I

am his daughter, auspicious sir, a maiden named Vindurekhá. But a

wicked Daitya, with flaming eyes, carried me off by treachery from my

father's house to-day, and brought me here. And he, desiring flesh,

assumed the form of a boar, and sallied out, but while he was still

hungry, he was pierced with a spear to-day by some hero; and as soon

as he was pierced, he came in here and died. And I rushed out and

escaped without being outraged by him." Then Saktideva said to her,

"Then why all this perturbation? For I slew that boar with a spear,

princess." Then she said, "Tell me who you are," and he answered her

"I am a Bráhman named Saktideva." Then she said to him, "You must

accordingly become my husband," and the hero consenting went out

of the cavern with her. And when he arrived at home, he told it to

his wife Vindumatí, and with her consent he married that princess

Vindurekhá. So, while Saktideva was living there with his two wives,

one of his wives Vindurekhá became pregnant; and in the eighth

month of her pregnancy, the first wife Vindumatí came up to him of

her own accord and said to him, "Hero, remember what you promised

me; this is the eighth month of the pregnancy of your second wife:

so go and cut her open and bring the child here, for you cannot act

contrary to your own word of honour." When she said this to Saktideva,

he was bewildered by affection and compassion; but being bound by

his promise he remained for a short time unable to give an answer;

at last he departed in a state of agitation and went to Vindurekhá;

and she seeing him come with troubled air, said to him, "Husband, why

are you despondent to-day? Surely I know; you have been commissioned

by Vindumatí to take out the child with which I am pregnant; and

that you must certainly do, for there is a certain object in view,

and there is no cruelty in it, so do not feel compunction; in proof

of it, hear the following story of Devadatta."

Story of Devadatta.

Long ago there lived in the city of Kambuka a Bráhman named Haridatta;

and the son of that auspicious man, who was named Devadatta, though

he studied in his boyhood, was, as a young man, exclusively addicted

to the vice of gaming. As he had lost his clothes and everything

by gambling, he was not able to return to his father's house, so he

entered once on a time an empty temple. And there he saw alone a great

ascetic, named Jálapáda, who had attained many objects by magic, and

he was muttering spells in a corner. So he went up to him slowly and

bowed before him, and the ascetic, abandoning his habit of not speaking

to any one, greeted him with a welcome; and after he had remained there

a moment, the ascetic, seeing his trouble, asked him the cause, and he

told him of his affliction produced by the loss of his wealth, which

had been dissipated in gambling. Then the ascetic said to Devadatta;

"My child, there is not wealth enough in the whole world to satisfy

gamblers; but if you desire to escape from your calamity, do what

I tell you, for I have made preparations to attain the rank of a

Vidyádhara; so help me to accomplish this, O man of fortunate destiny,

[424] you have only to obey my orders and then your calamities will

be at an end." When the ascetic said this to him, Devadatta promised

to obey him, and immediately took up his residence with him. And the

next day the ascetic went into a corner of the cemetery and performed

worship by night under a banyan-tree, and offered rice boiled in

milk, and flung portions of the oblation towards the four cardinal

points, after worshipping them, and said to the Bráhman who was in

attendance on him; "You must worship here in this style every day,

and say 'Vidyutprabhá, accept this worship.' And then I am certain

that we shall both attain our ends;" having said this the ascetic went

with him to his own house. Then Devadatta, consenting, went every day

and duly performed worship at the foot of that tree, according to his

instructions. And one day, at the end of his worship, the tree suddenly

clave open, and a heavenly nymph came out of it before his eyes,

and said, "My good sir, my mistress summons you to come to her." And

then she introduced him into the middle of that tree. When he entered

it, he beheld a heavenly palace made of jewels, and a beautiful lady

within it reclining upon a sofa. And he immediately thought--"This

may be the success of our enterprise incarnate in bodily form,"

but while he was thinking thus, that beautiful lady, receiving him

graciously, rose with limbs on which the ornaments rang as if to

welcome him, and seated him on her own sofa. And she said to him,

"Illustrious sir, I am the maiden daughter of a king of the Yakshas,

named Ratnavarsha, and I am known by the name of Vidyutprabhá; and

this great ascetic Jálapáda was endeavouring to gain my favour, to

him I will give the attainment of his ends, but you are the lord of

my life. So, as you see my affection, marry me." When she said this,

Devadatta consented, and did so. And he remained there some time,

but when she became pregnant, he went to the great ascetic with the

intention of returning, and in a state of terror he told him all that

had happened, and the ascetic, desiring his own success, said to him,

"My good sir, you have acted quite rightly, but go and cut open that

Yakshí and taking out the embryo, bring it quickly here." The ascetic

said this to him, and then reminded him of his previous promise,

and being dismissed by him, the Bráhman returned to his beloved, and

while he stood there despondent with reflecting on what he had to do,

the Yakshí Vidyutprabhá of her own accord said to him;--"My husband,

why are you cast down? I know, Jálapáda has ordered you to cut me open,

so cut me open and take out this child, and if you refuse, I will do

it myself, for there is an object in it." Though she said this to him,

the Bráhman could not bring himself to do it, then she cut herself

open and took out the child, and flung it down before him and said,

"Take this, which will enable him who consumes it, to obtain the rank

of a Vidyádhara. But I, though properly a Vidyádharí, have been born as

a Yakshí owing to a curse, and this is the appointed end of my curse,

strange as it is, for I remember my former existence. Now I depart

to my proper home, but we two shall meet again in that place." Saying

this Vidyutprabhá vanished from his eyes. And Devadatta took the child

with sorrowful mind, and went to that ascetic Jálapáda, and gave it

to him, as that which would ensure the success of his incantations,

for good men do not even in calamity give way to selfishness. The great

ascetic divided the child's flesh, and sent Devadatta to the wood to

worship Durgá in her terrific form. And when the Bráhman came back

after presenting an oblation, he saw that the ascetic had made away

with all the flesh. And while he said--"What, have you consumed it

all?" the treacherous Jálapáda, having become a Vidyádhara, ascended

to heaven. When he had flown up, with sword blue as the sky, adorned

with necklace and bracelet, Devadatta reflected, "Alas! how I have

been deceived by this evil-minded one! Or rather on whom does not

excessive compliance entail misfortune? So how can I revenge myself

on him for this ill turn, and how can I reach him who has become

a Vidyádhara? Well! I have no other resource in this matter except

propitiating a Vetála." [425] After he had made up his mind to do this,

he went at night to the cemetery. There he summoned at the foot of

a tree a Vetála into the body of a man, and after worshipping him,

he made an oblation of human flesh to him. And as that Vetála was not

satisfied, and would not wait for him to bring more, he prepared to cut

off his own flesh in order to gratify him. And immediately that Vetála

said to that brave man;--"I am pleased with this courage of yours,

do not act recklessly. So, my good sir, what desire have you for me to

accomplish for you?" When the Vetála said this, the hero answered him;

"Take me to the dwelling-place of the Vidyádharas, where is the ascetic

Jálapáda, who deceives those that repose confidence in him, in order

that I may punish him." The Vetála consented, and placing him on his

shoulder, carried him through the air in a moment to the dwelling of

the Vidyádharas; and there he saw Jálapáda in a palace, seated on

a jewelled throne, elated at being a king among the Vidyádharas,

endeavouring by various speeches to induce that Vidyutprabhá,

[426] who had obtained the rank of a Vidyádharí, to marry him in

spite of her reluctance. And the moment that the young man saw him,

he attacked him with the help of the Vetála, being to the eyes of the

delighted Vidyutprabhá, what the moon, the repository of nectar, is to

the partridges. [427] And Jálapáda beholding him suddenly arrived in

this way, dropped his sword in his fright, and fell from his throne

on the floor. But Devadatta, though he had obtained his sword, did

not slay him, for the great-hearted feel pity even for their enemies

when they are terrified.

And when the Vetála wanted to kill him, he dissuaded him, and said,

"Of what use will it be to us to kill this miserable heretic? So

take him and place him in his own house on earth, it is better that

this wicked skull-bearing ascetic should remain there." At the very

moment that Devadatta was saying this, the goddess Durgá descended

from heaven and appeared to him, and said to him who bent before her,

"My son, I am satisfied with thee now, on account of this incomparable

courage of thine; so I give thee on the spot the rank of king of the

Vidyádharas." Having said this, she bestowed the magic sciences [428]

on him, and immediately disappeared. And the Vetála immediately took

Jálapáda, whose splendour fell from him, and placed him on earth;

(wickedness does not long ensure success;) and Devadatta accompanied

by Vidyutprabhá, having obtained that sovereignty of the Vidyádharas,

flourished in his kingdom.

Having told this story to her husband Saktideva, the softly-speaking

Vindurekhá again said to him with eagerness; "Such necessities

do arise, so cut out this child of mine as Vindumatí told you,

without remorse." When Vindurekhá said this, Saktideva was afraid

of doing wrong, but a voice sounded from heaven at this juncture,

"O Saktideva, take out this child without fear, and seize it by the

neck with your hand, then it will turn into a sword." Having heard this

divine voice, he cut her open; and quickly taking out the child, he

seized it by the throat with his hand; and no sooner did he seize it,

than it became a sword in his hand; like the long hair of Good Fortune

seized by him with an abiding grasp. Then that Bráhman quickly became

a Vidyádhara, and Vindurekhá that moment disappeared. And when he saw

that, he went, as he was, to his second wife Vindumatí, and told her

the whole story. She said to him, "My lord, we are three sisters,

the daughter of a king of the Vidyádharas, who have been banished

from Kanakapurí in consequence of a curse. The first was Kanakarekhá,

the termination of whose curse you beheld in the city of Vardhamána;

and she has gone to that city of hers, her proper home. For such

was the strange end of her curse, according to the dispensation of

fate, and I am the third sister, and now my curse is at an end. And

this very day I must go to that city of mine, my beloved, for there

our Vidyádhara bodies remain. And my elder sister, Chandraprabhá,

is dwelling there; so you also must come there quickly by virtue

of the magic power of your sword. And you shall rule in that city,

after obtaining all four of us as wives, bestowed upon you by our

father who has retired to the forest, and others in addition to us."

Thus Vindumatí declared the truth about herself, and Saktideva

consenting, went again to the City of Gold, this time through the

air, together with that Vindumatí. And when he arrived, he again saw

those three darlings of his bending before him, Kanakarekhá and the

others, after entering with their souls, as was fitting, those heavenly

female bodies, which he saw on a former occasion extended lifeless on

the couches in those three pavilions. And he saw that fourth sister

there, Chandraprabhá, who had performed auspicious ceremonies, and was

drinking in his form with an eye rendered eager by seeing him after

so long an absence. His arrival was joyfully hailed by the servants,

who were occupied in their several duties, as well as by the ladies,

and when he entered the private apartments, that Chandraprabhá said

to him--"Noble sir, here is that princess Kanakarekhá, who was seen

by you in the city of Vardhamána, my sister called Chandrarekhá. And

here is that daughter of the fisher king, Vindumatí, whom you first

married in the island of Utsthala, my sister Sasirekhá. And here

is my youngest sister Sasiprabhá, the princess who after that was

brought there by the Dánava, and then became your wife. So now come,

successful hero, with us into the presence of our father, and quickly

marry us all, when bestowed upon you by him."

When Chandraprabhá had swiftly and boldly uttered this decree of Cupid,

Saktideva went with those four to the recesses of the wood to meet

their father, and their father, the king of the Vidyádharas, having

been informed of the facts by all his daughters who bowed at his feet,

and also moved by a divine voice, with delighted soul gave them all at

once to Saktideva. Immediately after that, he bestowed on Saktideva

his opulent realm in the City of Gold, and all his magic sciences,

and he gave the successful hero his name, by which he was henceforth

known among his Vidyádharas. And he said to him; "No one else shall

conquer thee, but from the mighty lord of Vatsa there shall spring a

universal emperor, who shall reign among you here under the title of

Naraváhanadatta and be thy superior, to him alone wilt thou have to

submit." With these words the mighty lord of the Vidyádharas, named

Sasikhandapada, dismissed his son-in-law from the wood where he was

practising asceticism, after entertaining him kindly, that he might go

with his wives to his own capital. Then that Saktivega, having become

a king, entered the City of Gold, that glory of the Vidyádhara world,

proceeding thither with his wives. Living in that city, the palaces

of which gleamed with fabric of gold, which seemed on account of its

great height to be the condensed rays of the sun falling in brightness,

he enjoyed exceeding happiness with those fair-eyed wives, in charming

gardens, the lakes of which had steps made out of jewels.

Having thus related his wonderful history, the eloquent Saktivega

went on to say to the king of Vatsa, "Know me, O lord of Vatsa,

ornament of the lunar race, to be that very Saktideva come here,

full of desire to behold the two feet of your son who is just born,

and is destined to be our new emperor. Thus I have obtained, though

originally a man, the rank of sovereign among the Vidyádharas by the

favour of Siva: and now, O king, I return to my own home; I have seen

our future lord; may you enjoy unfailing felicity."

After finishing his tale, Saktivega said this with clasped hands,

and receiving permission to depart, immediately flew up into the sky

like the moon in brightness, and then the king of Vatsa in the company

of his wives, surrounded by his ministers, and with his young son,

enjoyed, in his own capital a state of indescribable felicity.

BOOK VI.

CHAPTER XXVII.

May the god with the face of an elephant, [429] who appears, with

his head bowed down and then raised, to be continually threatening

the hosts of obstacles, protect you.

I adore the god of Love, pierced with the showers of whose arrows even

the body of Siva seems to bristle with dense thorns, when embraced

by Umá.

Now hear the heavenly adventures which Naraváhanadatta, speaking of

himself in the third person, told from the very beginning, after

he had obtained the sovereignty of the Vidyádharas, and had been

questioned about the story of his life on some occasion or other by

the seven Rishis and their wives.

Then that Naraváhanadatta being carefully brought up by his father,

passed his eighth year. The prince lived at that time with the sons

of the ministers, being instructed in sciences, and sporting in

gardens. And the queen Vásavadattá and Padmávatí also on account of

their exceeding affection were devoted to him day and night. He was

distinguished by a body which was sprung from a noble stock, and bent

under the weight of his growing virtues, and gradually filled out,

as also by a bow which was made of a good bamboo, which bent as the

string rose, and slowly arched itself into a crescent. [430] And his

father the king of Vatsa spent his time in wishes for his marriage

and other happiness, delightful because so soon to bear fruit. Now

hear what happened at this point of the story.

Story of the merchant's son in Takshasilá.

There was once a city named Takshasilá [431] on the banks of the

Vitastá, the reflection of whose long line of palaces gleamed in

the waters of the river, as if it were the capital of the lower

regions come to gaze at its splendour. In it there dwelt a king named

Kalingadatta, a distinguished Buddhist, all whose subjects were devoted

to the great Buddha the bridegroom of Tárá. [432] His city shone with

splendid Buddhist temples densely crowded together, as if with the

horns of pride elevated because it had no rival upon earth. He not

only cherished his subjects like a father, but also himself taught

them knowledge like a spiritual guide. Moreover there was in that

city a certain rich Buddhist merchant called Vitastadatta, who was

exclusively devoted to the honouring of Buddhist mendicants. And he

had a son, a young man named Ratnadatta. And he was always expressing

his detestation of his father, calling him an impious man. And when

his father said to him, "Son, why do you blame me?"--the merchant's

son answered with bitter scorn, "My father, you abandon the religion

of the three Vedas and cultivate irreligion. For you neglect the

Bráhmans and are always honouring Sramanas. [433] What have you to

do with that Buddhist discipline, which all kinds of low-caste men

resort to, to gratify their desire to have a convent to dwell in,

released from bathing and other strict ordinances, loving to feed

whenever it is convenient, [434] rejecting the Bráhmanical lock and

other prescribed methods of doing the hair, quite at ease with only a

rag round their loins?" When the merchant heard that he said--"Religion

is not confined to one form; a transcendent religion is a different

thing from a religion that embraces the whole world. People say that

Bráhmanism too consists in avoiding passion and other sins, in truth,

and compassion to creatures, not in quarrelling causelessly with

one's relations. [435] Moreover you ought not to blame generally

that school which I follow, which extends security to all creatures,

on account of the fault of an individual. Nobody questions the

propriety of conferring benefits, and my beneficence consists

simply in giving security to creatures. So, if I take exceeding

pleasure in this system, the principal characteristic of which is

abstinence from injuring any creature, and which brings liberation,

wherein am I irreligious in doing so?" When his father said this

to him, that merchant's son obstinately refused to admit it, and

only blamed his father all the more. Then his father, in disgust,

went and reported the whole matter to the king Kalingadatta, who

superintended the religion of his people. The king, for his part,

summoned on some pretext the merchant's son into his judgement-hall,

and feigning an anger he did not feel, said to the executioner,

"I have heard that this merchant's son is wicked and addicted to

horrible crimes, so slay him without mercy as a corrupter of the

realm." When the king had said this, the father interceded, and then

the king appointed that the execution should be put off for two months,

in order that he might learn virtue, and entrusted the merchant's son

to the custody of his father, to be brought again into his presence at

the end of that time. The merchant's son, when he had been taken home

to his father's house, was distracted with fear, and kept thinking,

"What crime can I have committed against the king?" and pondering

over his causeless execution which was to take place at the end of two

months; and so he could get no sleep day or night, and was exhausted

by taking less than his usual food at all times. Then, the reprieve

of two months having expired, that merchant's son was again taken,

thin and pale, into the presence of the king. And the king seeing

him in such a depressed state said to him--"Why have you become so

thin? Did I order you not to eat?" When the merchant's son heard that,

he said to the king--"I forgot myself for fear, much more my food. Ever

since I heard your majesty order my execution, I have been thinking

every day of death slowly advancing." When the merchant's son said

this, the king said to him, "I have by an artifice made you teach

yourself what the fear of death is. [436] Such must be the fear which

every living creature entertains of death, and tell me what higher

piety can there be than the benefit of preserving creatures from

that? So I shewed you this in order that you might acquire religion

and the desire of salvation, [437] for a wise man being afraid of

death strives to attain salvation. Therefore you must not blame your

father who follows this religion." When the merchant's son heard this,

he bowed and said to the king--"Your majesty has made me a blessed man

by teaching me religion, and now a desire for salvation has arisen in

me, teach me that also, my lord." When the king heard that, as it was

a feast in the city, he gave a vessel full of oil into the hand of the

merchant's son and said to him, "Take this vessel in your hand and walk

all round this city, and you must avoid spilling a single drop of it,

my son; if you spill one drop of it, these men will immediately cut

you down." [438] Having said this, the king dismissed the merchant's

son to walk round the city, ordering men with drawn swords to follow

him. The merchant's son, in his fear, took care to avoid spilling a

drop of oil, and having perambulated that city with much difficulty,

returned into the presence of the king. The king, when he saw that

he had brought the oil without spilling it, said to him: "Did you

see any one to-day, as you went along in your perambulation of the

city?" When the merchant's son heard that, he clasped his hands,

and said to the king--"In truth, my lord, I neither saw nor heard

any thing, for at the time when I was perambulating the city I had

my undivided attention fixed on avoiding spilling a drop of oil, lest

the swords should descend upon me." When the merchant's son said this,

the king said to him; "Because your whole soul was intent on looking

at the oil, you saw nothing. So practise religious contemplation with

the same undivided attention. For a man, who with intent concentration

averts his attention from all outward operations, has intuition of the

truth, and after that intuition he is not entangled again in the meshes

of works. Thus I have given you in a compendious form instruction in

the doctrine of salvation." Thus the king spoke and dismissed him,

and the merchant's son fell at his feet and went home rejoicing to his

father's house, having attained all his objects. This Kalingadatta,

who superintended in this way the religion of his subjects, had a wife

named Tárádattá, of equal birth with the king, who being politic and

well-conducted, was such an ornament to the king as language is to

a poet, who delights in numerous illustrations. She was meritorious

for her bright qualities and was inseparable from that beloved king,

being to him what the moonlight is to the moon, the receptacle of

nectar. The king lived happily there with that queen, and passed his

days like Indra with Sachí in heaven.

Story of the Apsaras Surabhidattá.

At this point of my tale Indra, for some cause or other, had a

great feast in heaven. All the Apsarases assembled there to dance,

except one beautiful Apsaras named Surabhidattá, who was not to be

seen there. Then Indra by his divine power of insight perceived her

associating in secret with a certain Vidyádhara in Nandana. When Indra

saw it, wrath arose in his bosom, and he thought--"Ah! these two,

blinded with love, are both wicked: the Apsaras, because forgetting

us she acts in a wilful manner, the Vidyádhara, because he enters the

domain of the gods and commits improprieties. Or rather, what fault

is that miserable Vidyádhara guilty of? For she has enticed him here,

ensnaring him with her beauty. A lovely one will sweep away with the

sea of her beauty, flowing between the lofty banks of her breasts,

even one who can restrain his passions. Was not even Siva disturbed

long ago when he beheld Tilottamá, whom the Creator made by taking an

atom from all the noblest beings? [439] And did not Visvámitra leave

his asceticism when he beheld Menaká? And did not Yayáti come to old

age for love of Sarmishtá? So this young Vidyádhara has committed no

crime in allowing himself to be allured by an Apsaras with her beauty,

which is able to bewilder the three worlds. [440] But this heavenly

nymph is in fault, wicked creature, void of virtue, who has deserted

the gods, and introduced this fellow into Nandana." Thus reflecting,

the lover of Ahalyá [441] spared the Vidyádhara youth, but cursed

that Apsaras in the following words: "Wicked one, take upon thyself

a mortal nature, but after thou hast obtained a daughter not sprung

from the womb, and hast accomplished the object of the gods, thou

shalt return to this heaven."

In the meanwhile Tárádattá, the consort of that king in the city

of Takshasilá, reached the period favourable for procreation. And

Surabhidattá, the Apsaras who had been degraded from heaven by the

curse of Indra, was conceived in her, giving beauty to her whole

body. Then Tárádattá beheld in a dream a flame descending from

heaven and entering into her womb; and in the morning she described

with astonishment her dream to her husband, the king Kalingadatta;

and he being pleased said to her,--"Queen, heavenly beings owing to

a curse fall into human births, so I am persuaded that this is some

divine being conceived in you. For beings, bound by various works,

good and evil, are ever revolving in the state of mundane existence

in these three worlds, to receive fruits blessed and miserable." When

the queen was thus addressed by the king, she took the opportunity of

saying to him; "It is true, actions, good and bad, have a wonderful

power, producing the perception of joy and sorrow, [442] and in proof

of it I will tell you this illustration, listen to me."

Story of king Dharmadatta and his wife Nágasrí.

There once lived a king named Dharmadatta, the lord of Kosala; he had

a queen named Nágasrí, who was devoted to her husband and was called

Arundhatí on the earth, as, like her, she was the chief of virtuous

women. And in course of time, O slayer of your enemies, I was born

as the daughter of that king by that queen; then, while I was a mere

child, that mother of mine suddenly remembered her former birth and

said to her husband; "O king, I have suddenly to-day remembered my

former birth; it is disagreeable to me not to tell it, but if I do

tell it, it will cause my death, because they say that, if a person

suddenly remembers his or her former birth and tells it, it surely

brings death. Therefore, king, I feel excessively despondent." When

his queen said this to him, the king answered her; "My beloved, I, like

you, have suddenly remembered my former birth; therefore tell me yours,

and I will tell you mine, let what will be, be; for who can alter the

decree of fate." When thus urged by her husband, the queen said to him,

"If you press the matter, king, then I will tell you, listen.

"In my former birth I was a well-conducted female slave in this very

land, in the house of a certain Bráhman named Mádhava. And in that

birth I had a husband named Devadása, an excellent hired servant in

the house of a certain merchant. And so we two dwelled there, having

built a house that suited us, living on the cooked rice brought from

the houses of our respective masters. A water vessel and a pitcher,

a broom and a brazier, and I and my husband, formed three couples. We

lived happy and contented in our house into which the demon of

quarrelling never entered, eating the little food that remained over

after we had made offerings to the gods, the manes and guests.

"And any clothes which either of us had over, we gave to some poor

person or other. Then there arose a grievous famine in our country,

and owing to that the allowance of food, which we had to receive every

day, began to come to us in small quantities. Then our bodies became

attenuated by hunger, and we began to despond in mind, when once on a

time at meal-time there arrived a weary Bráhman guest. To him we both

gave all our own food, as much as we had, though we were in danger of

our lives. When the Bráhman had eaten and departed, my husband's breath

left him, as if angry that he respected a guest more than it. And then

I heaped up in honour of my husband a suitable pyre, and ascended it,

and so laid down the load of my own calamity. Then I was born in a

royal family, and I became your queen, for the tree of good deeds

produces to the righteous inconceivably glorious fruit." When his

queen said this to him, the king Dharmadatta said--"Come, my beloved,

I am that husband of thine in a former birth; I was that very Devadása

the merchant's servant, for I have remembered this moment this former

existence of mine." Having said this, and mentioned the tokens of

his own identity, the king, despondent and yet glad, suddenly went

with his queen to heaven.

"In this way my parents went to another world, and my mother's sister

brought me to her own house to rear me, and while I was unmarried,

there came there a certain Bráhman guest, and my mother's sister

ordered me to wait on him. And I diligently strove to please him

as Kuntí to please Durvásas, and owing to a boon conferred by him,

I obtained you, a virtuous husband. Thus good fortune is the result

of virtue, owing to which my parents were both born at the same time

in royal families, and also remembered their former birth." Having

heard this speech of the queen Tárádattá, the king Kalingadatta,

who was exclusively devoted to righteousness, answered her, "It is

true, a trifling act of righteousness duly performed will bring much

fruit, and in proof of this, O queen, hear the ancient tale of the

seven Bráhmans."

Story of the seven Bráhmans who devoured a cow in time of famine. [443]

Long ago, in a city called Kundina, a certain Bráhman teacher

had for pupils seven sons of Bráhmans. Then that teacher, under

pressure of famine, sent those pupils to ask his father-in-law,

who was rich in cows, to give him one. And those pupils of his went,

with their bellies pinched by hunger, to his father-in-law, who dwelt

in another land, and asked him, as their teacher had ordered them,

for a cow. He gave them one cow to support them, but the miserly

fellow did not give them food, though they were hungry. Then they

took the cow, and as they were returning and had accomplished half

the journey, being excessively pained by hunger, they fell exhausted

on the earth. They said--"Our teacher's house is far off, and we

are afflicted by calamity far from home, and food is hard to obtain

everywhere, so it is all over with our lives. And in the same way

this cow is certain to die in this wilderness without water, wood,

or human beings, and our teacher will not derive even the smallest

advantage from it. So let us support our lives with its flesh, and

quickly restore our teacher and his family with what remains over:

for it is a time of sore distress." Having thus deliberated, those

seven students treated that cow as a victim, and sacrificed it on the

spot according to the system prescribed in the sacred treatises. After

sacrificing to the gods and manes, and eating its flesh according to

the prescribed method, they went and took what remained of it to their

teacher. They bowed before him, and told him all that they had done,

to the letter, and he was pleased with them, because they told the

truth, though they had committed a fault. And after seven days they

died of famine, but because they told the truth on that occasion,

they were born again with the power of remembering their former birth.

"Thus even a small germ of merit, watered with the water of holy

aspiration, bears fruit to men in general, as a seed to cultivators,

but the same corrupted by the water of impure aspiration bears fruit in

the form of misfortune, and à propos of this I will tell you another

tale, listen!"

Story of the two ascetics, one a Bráhman the other a Chandála.

Once on a time two men remained for the same length of time fasting

on the banks of the Ganges, one a Bráhman and the other a Chandála. Of

those two, the Bráhman being overpowered with hunger, and seeing some

Nishádas [444] come that way bringing fish and eating them, thus

reflected in his folly--"O happy in the world are these fishermen,

sons of female slaves though they be, for they eat to their fill

of the fresh meat of fish!" But the other, who was a Chandála,

thought, the moment he saw those fishermen, "Out on these destroyers

of life, and devourers of raw flesh! So why should I stand here and

behold their faces?" Saying this to himself, he closed his eyes and

remained buried in his own thoughts. And in course of time those

two, the Bráhman and the Chandála, died of starvation; the Bráhman

was eaten by dogs on the bank, the Chandála rotted in the water

of the Ganges. So that Bráhman, not having disciplined his spirit,

was born in the family of a fisherman, but owing to the virtue of the

holy place, he remembered his former existence. As for that Chandála,

who possessed self-control, and whose mind was not marred by passion,

he was born as a king in a palace on that very bank of the Ganges,

and recollected his former birth. And of those two, who were born

with a remembrance of their former existence, the one suffered misery

being a fisherman, the other being a king enjoyed happiness.

"Such is the root of the tree of virtue; according to the purity

or impurity of a man's heart is without doubt the fruit which he

receives." Having said this to the queen Tárádattá, king Kalingadatta

again said to her in the course of conversation,--"Moreover actions

which are really distinguished by great courage produce fruit, since

prosperity follows on courage; and to illustrate this I will tell

the following wonderful tale. Listen!"

Story of king Vikramasinha and the two Bráhmans.

There is in Avanti a city named Ujjayiní, famous in the world,

which is the dwelling-place of Siva, [445] and which gleams with

its white palaces as if with the peaks of Kailása, come thither in

the ardour of their devotion to the god. This vast city, profound

as the sea, having a splendid emperor for its water, had hundreds of

armies entering it, as hundreds of rivers flow into the sea, and was

the refuge of allied kings, as the sea is of mountains that retain

their wings. [446] In that city there was a king who had the name of

Vikramasinha, [447] a name that thoroughly expressed his character,

for his enemies were like deer and never met him in fight. And he,

because he could never find any enemy to face him, became disgusted

with weapons and the might of his arm, and was inwardly grieved as

he never obtained the joy of battle. Then his minister Amaragupta,

who discovered his longing, said to him incidentally in the course

of conversation--"King, it is not hard for kings to incur guilt,

if through pride in their strong arms, and confidence in their skill

in the use of weapons, they even long for enemies; in this way Bána

in old time, through pride in his thousand arms, propitiated Siva and

asked for an enemy that was a match for him in fight, until at last his

prayer was actually granted, and Vishnu became his enemy, and cut off

his innumerable arms in battle. So you must not shew dissatisfaction

because you do not obtain an opportunity of fighting, and a terrible

enemy must never be desired. If you want to shew here your skill in

weapons and your strength, shew it in the forest an appropriate field

for it, and in hunting. And since kings are not generally exposed to

fatigue, hunting is approved to give them exercise and excitement, but

warlike expeditions are not recommended. Moreover the malignant wild

animals desire that the earth should be depopulated, for this reason

the king should slay them; on this ground too hunting is approved. But

wild animals should not be too unremittingly pursued, for it was

owing to the vice of exclusive devotion to hunting that former kings,

Pándu and others, met destruction." When the wise minister Amaragupta

said this to him, the king Vikramasinha approved the advice saying--"I

will do so." And the next day the king went out of the city to hunt,

to a district beset with horses, footmen and dogs, and where all the

quarters were filled with the pitching of various nets, and he made

the heaven resound with the shouts of joyous huntsmen. And as he was

going out on the back of an elephant, he saw two men sitting together

in private in an empty temple outside the walls. And the king, as

he beheld them from afar, supposed that they were only deliberating

together over something at their leisure, and passed on to the forest

where his hunting was to be. There he was delighted with the drawn

swords, and with the old tigers, and the roaring of lions, and the

scenery, and the elephants. He strewed that ground with pearls fallen

from the nails of elephant-slaying lions whom he killed, resembling the

seeds of his prowess. The deer leaping sideways, being oblique-goers,

[448] went obliquely across his path; his straight-flying arrow easily

transfixing them first, reached afterwards the mark of delight. And

after the king had long enjoyed the sport of hunting, he returned,

as his servants were weary, with slackened bowstring to the city

of Ujjayiní. There he saw those two men, whom he had seen as he was

going out, who had remained the whole time in the temple occupied in

the same way. He thought to himself--"Who are these, and why do they

deliberate so long? Surely they must be spies, having a long talk

over secrets." So he sent his warder, and had those men captured and

brought into his presence, and then thrown into prison. And the next

day he had them brought into his judgement-hall, and asked them--"Who

are you and why did you deliberate together so long?" When the king

in person asked them this, they entreated him to spare their lives,

and one of these young men began to say; "Hear, O king, I will now

tell the whole story as it happened.

"There lived a Bráhman, of the name of Karabhaka, in this very city

of yours. I, whom you see here, am the son of that learned student

of the Vedas, born by his propitiating the god of fire in order to

obtain a heroic son. And, when my father went to heaven, and his wife

followed him, [449] I being a mere boy, though I had learned the

sciences, abandoned the course of life suited to my caste, because

I was friendless. And I set myself to practise gaming and the use

of arms; what boy does not become self-willed if he is not kept in

order by some superior? And, having passed my childhood in this way,

I acquired overweening confidence in my prowess, and went one day

to the forest to practise archery. And while I was thus engaged,

a bride came out of the city in a covered palanquin, surrounded by

many attendants of the bridegroom. And suddenly an elephant, that had

broken its chain, came from some quarter or other at that very moment,

and attacked that bride in its fury. And through fear of that elephant,

all those cowardly attendants and her husband with them deserted the

bride, and fled in all directions. When I saw that, I immediately said

to myself in my excitement,--'What! have these miserable wretches left

this unfortunate woman alone? So I must defend this unprotected lady

from this elephant. For what is the use of life or courage, unless

employed to succour the unfortunate?' Thus reflecting I raised a shout

and ran towards that huge elephant; and the elephant, abandoning the

woman, charged down upon me. Then I, before the eyes of that terrified

woman, shouted and ran, and so drew off that elephant to a distance,

at last I got hold of a bough of a tree thickly covered with leaves,

which had been broken off, and covering myself with it, I went into the

middle of the tree; and placing the bough in front of me, I escaped by

a dexterous oblique movement, while the elephant trampled the bough

to pieces. Then I quickly went to that lady, who remained terrified

there, and asked her whether she had escaped without injury. She,

when she saw me, said with afflicted and yet joyful manner; 'How

can I be said to be uninjured, now that I have been bestowed on this

coward, who has deserted me in such straits, and fled somewhere or

other; but so far at any rate I am uninjured, that I again behold

you unharmed. So my husband is nothing to me; you henceforth are my

husband, by whom regardless of your life, I have been delivered from

the jaws of death. And here I see my husband coming with his servants,

so follow us slowly; for when we get an opportunity, you and I will

elope somewhere together.' When she said this, I consented. I ought to

have thought--'Though this woman is beautiful, and flings herself at my

head, yet she is the wife of another; what have I to do with her?' But

this is the course of calm self-restraint, not of ardent youth. And

in a moment her husband came up and greeted her, and she proceeded

to continue her journey with him and his servants. And I, without

being detected, followed her through her long journey, being secretly

supplied with provisions for the journey by her, though I passed for

some one unconnected with her. And she, throughout the journey, falsely

asserted that she suffered pain in her limbs, from a strain produced

by falling in her terror at the elephant, and so avoided even touching

her husband. A passionate woman, like a female snake, terrible from

the condensed venom she accumulates within, will never, if injured,

neglect to wreak her vengeance. And in course of time we reached the

city of Lohanagara, where was the house of the husband of that woman,

who lived by trading. And we all remained during that day in a temple

outside the walls. And there I met my friend this second Bráhman. And

though we had never met before, we felt a confidence in one another

at first sight; the heart of creatures recognises friendships formed

in a previous birth. Then I told him all my secret. When he heard it,

he said to me of his own accord; 'Keep the matter quiet, I know of a

device by which you can attain the object for which you came here;

I know here the sister of this lady's husband. She is ready to fly

from this place with me, and take her wealth with her. So with her

help I will accomplish your object for you.'

"When the Bráhman had said this to me, he departed, and secretly

informed the merchant's wife's sister-in-law of the whole matter. And

on the next day the sister-in-law, according to arrangement, came

with her brother's wife and introduced her into the temple. And while

we were there, she made my friend at that very time, which was the

middle of the day, put on the dress of her brother's wife. And she

took him so disguised into the city, and went into the house in which

her brother lived, after arranging what we were to do. But I left

the temple, and fleeing with the merchant's wife dressed as a man,

reached at last this city of Ujjayiní. And her sister-in-law at night

fled with my friend from that house, in which there had been a feast,

and so the people were in a drunken sleep.

"And then he came with her by stealthy journeys to this city; so

we met here. In this way we two have obtained our two wives in the

bloom of youth, the sister-in-law and her brother's wife, who bestowed

themselves on us out of affection. Consequently, king, we are afraid

to dwell anywhere; for whose mind is at ease after performing deeds

of reckless temerity? So the king saw us yesterday from a distance,

while we were debating about a place to dwell in, and how we should

subsist. And your majesty, seeing us, had us brought and thrown into

prison on the suspicion of being thieves, and to-day we have been

questioned about our history, and I have just told it; now it is for

your highness to dispose of us at pleasure." When one of them had

said this, the king Vikramasinha said to those two Bráhmans,--"I am

satisfied, do not be afraid, remain in this city, and I will give you

abundance of wealth." When the king had said this, he gave them as

much to live on as they wished, and they lived happily in his court

accompanied by their wives.

"Thus prosperity dwells for men even in questionable deeds, if they

are the outcome of great courage, and thus kings, being satisfied,

take pleasure in giving to discreet men who are rich in daring. And

thus this whole created world with the gods and demons will always

reap various fruits, corresponding exactly to their own stock of deeds

good or bad, performed in this or in a former birth. So rest assured,

queen, that the flame which was seen by you falling from heaven in your

dream, and apparently entering your womb, is some creature of divine

origin, that owing to some influence of its works has been conceived

in you." The pregnant queen Tárádattá, when she heard this from the

mouth of her own husband Kalingadatta, was exceedingly delighted.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

Then the queen Tárádattá, the consort of king Kalingadatta in

Takshasilá, slowly became oppressed with the burden of her unborn

child. And she, now that her delivery was near, being pale of

countenance, with tremulous eyeballs, [450] resembled the East

in which the pale streak of the young moon is about to rise. And

there was soon born from her a daughter excelling all others, like a

specimen of the Creator's power to produce all beauty. The lights kept

burning to protect the child against evil spirits, blazing with oil,

[451] were eclipsed by her beauty, and darkened, as if through grief

that a son of equal beauty had not been born instead. And her father

Kalingadatta, when he saw her born, beautiful though she was, was

filled with despondency at the disappointment of his hope to obtain

a son like her. Though he divined that she was of heavenly origin, he

was grieved because he longed for a son. For a son, being embodied joy,

is far superior to a daughter, that is but a lump of grief. Then in his

affliction, the king went out of his palace to divert his mind, and he

entered a monastery full of many images of Buddha. In a certain part of

the monastery, he heard this speech being uttered by a begging hermit,

who was a religious preacher, as he sat in the midst of his hearers.

"They say that the bestowal of wealth in this world is great

asceticism; a man who gives wealth is said to give life, for life

depends on wealth. And Buddha, with mind full of pity, offered up

himself for another, as if he were worthless straw, much more should

one offer up sordid pelf. And it was by such resolute asceticism,

that Buddha, having got rid of desire, and obtained heavenly insight,

attained the rank of a Buddha. Therefore a wise man should do what

is beneficial to other beings, by abstaining from selfish aspirations

even so far as to sacrifice his own body, in order that he may obtain

perfect insight."

Story of the seven princesses.

Thus, long ago, there were born in succession to a certain king

named Krita seven very beautiful princesses, and even while they

were still youthful they abandoned, in disgust with life, the house

of their father, and went to the cemetery, and when they were asked

why they did it, they said to their retinue--"This world is unreal,

and in it this body, and such delights as union with the beloved

are the baseless fabric of a dream; only the good of others in this

revolving world is pronounced to be real; so let us with these bodies

of ours do good to our fellow creatures, let us fling these bodies,

while they are alive, to the eaters of raw flesh [452] in the cemetery;

what is the use of them, lovely though they be?"

Story of the prince who tore out his own eye.

For there lived in old time a certain prince who was disgusted with

the world, and he, though young and handsome, adopted the life of a

wandering hermit. Once on a time that beggar entered the house of a

certain merchant, and was beheld by his young wife with his eyes long

as the leaf of a lotus. She, with heart captivated by the beauty of his

eyes said to him, "How came such a handsome man as you to undertake

such a severe vow as this? Happy is the woman who is gazed upon with

this eye of yours!" When the begging hermit was thus addressed by the

lady, he tore out one eye, and holding it in his hand, said, "Mother,

behold this eye, such as it is; take the loathsome mass of flesh and

blood, if it pleases you. [453] And the other is like it; say, what is

there attractive in these?" When he said this to the merchant's wife,

and she saw the eye, she was despondent, and said, "Alas! I, unhappy

wretch that I am, have done an evil deed, in that I have become the

cause of the tearing out of your eye!" When the beggar heard that,

he said,--"Mother, do not be grieved, for you have done me a benefit;

hear the following example, to prove the truth of what I say."

Story of the ascetic who conquered anger.

There lived long ago, in a certain beautiful garden on the banks

of the Ganges, a hermit animated by the desire of experiencing all

asceticism. And while he was engaged in mortifying the flesh, it

happened that a certain king came there to amuse himself with the

women of his harem. And after he had amused himself, he fell asleep

under the influence of his potations, and while he was in this state,

his queens left him out of thoughtlessness and roamed about in the

garden. And beholding in a corner of the garden that hermit engaged

in meditation, they stood round him out of curiosity, wondering

what on earth he could be. And as they remained there a long time,

that king woke up, and not seeing his wives at his side, wandered all

round the garden. And then he saw the queens standing all round the

hermit, and being enraged, he slashed the hermit with his sword out

of jealousy. What crime will not sovereign power, jealousy, cruelty,

drunkenness, and indiscretion cause separately, much more deadly are

they when combined, like five fires. [454] Then the king departed,

and though the hermit's limbs were gashed, he remained free from wrath;

whereupon a certain deity appeared and said to him,--"Great-souled one,

if you approve I will slay by my power that wicked man who did this to

you in a passion." When the hermit heard that, he said, "O goddess,

say not so, for he is my helper in virtue, not a harmer of me. For

by his favour I have attained the grace of patience; to whom could

I have shown patience, O goddess, if he had not acted thus towards

me? What anger does the wise man shew for the sake of this perishing

body? To shew patience equally with regard to what is agreeable and

disagreeable is to have attained the rank of Brahmá." When the hermit

said this to the deity, she was pleased, and after healing the wounds

in his limbs, she disappeared.

"In the same way as that king was considered a benefactor by the

hermit, you, my mother, have increased my asceticism by causing

me to tear out my eye." Thus spake the self-subduing hermit to the

merchant's wife, who bowed before him, and being regardless of his

body, lovely though it was, he passed on to perfection.

"Therefore, though our youth be very charming, why should we cling to

this perishable body? But the only thing which, in the eye of the wise

man, it is good for, is to benefit one's fellow-creatures. So we will

lay down our bodies to benefit living creatures in this cemetery, the

natural home of happiness." Having said this to their attendants, those

seven princesses did so, and obtained therefrom the highest beatitude.

"Thus you see that the wise have no selfish affection even for their

own bodies, much less for such worthless things [455] as son, wife,

and servants."

When the king Kalingadatta had heard these and other such things from

the religious teacher in the monastery, having spent the day there, he

returned to his palace. And when he was there, he was again afflicted

with grief on account of the birth of a daughter to him, and a certain

Bráhman, who had grown old in his house, said to him--"King, why do

you despond on account of the birth of a pearl of maidens? Daughters

are better even than sons, and produce happiness in this world and the

next. Why do kings care so much about those sons that hanker after

their kingdom, and eat up their fathers like crabs? But kings like

Kuntibhoja and others, by the virtues of daughters like Kuntí and

others, have escaped harm from sages like the terrible Durvásas. And

how can one obtain from a son the same fruit in the next world, as

one obtains from the marriage of a daughter? Moreover I now proceed

to tell the tale of Sulochaná, listen to it."