Once on a time I lived in a certain tree, and below me in the same

tree a bird, named Kapinjala, had made a nest and lived. One day he

went away somewhere, and he did not return for many days. In the

meanwhile a hare came and took possession of his nest. After some

days Kapinjala returned, and an altercation arose between him and the

hare, as both laid claim to the nest, exclaiming; "It is mine, not

yours." Then they both set out in search of a qualified arbitrator. And

I, out of curiosity, followed them unobserved, to see what would turn

up. After they had gone a little way they saw on the bank of a lake

a cat, who pretended to have taken a vow of abstinence from injury

to all creatures, with his eyes half-closed in meditation. They said

to one another; "Why should we not ask this holy cat here to declare

what is just?"--Then they approached the cat and said; "Reverend sir,

hear our cause, for you are a holy ascetic." When the cat heard that,

he said to them in a low voice,--"I am weak from self-mortification,

so I cannot hear at a distance, pray, come near me. For a case wrongly

decided brings temporal and eternal death." With these words the

cat encouraged them to come just in front of him, and then the base

creature killed at one spring both the hare and Kapinjala.

"So, you see, one cannot confide in villains whose actions are

base. Accordingly you must not make this owl king, for he is a great

villain." When the crow said this to the birds, they admitted the force

of it, and gave up the idea of anointing the owl king, and dispersed

in all directions. And the owl said to the crow; "Remember; from this

day forth you and I are enemies. Now I take my leave of you." And

he went away in a rage. But the crow, though he thought that he had

spoken what was right, was for a moment despondent. Who is not grieved

when he has involved himself in a dangerous quarrel by a mere speech?

"So you see that our feud with the owls arose from an inconsiderate

utterance." Having said this to the king, Chirajívin continued, "The

owls are numerous and strong, and you cannot conquer them. Numbers

prevail in this world, hear an instance."

Story of the Bráhman, the goat, and the rogues. [91]

A Bráhman had bought a goat, and was returning from a village with

it on his shoulder, when he was seen on the way by many rogues, who

wished to deprive him of the goat. And one of them came up to him,

and pretending to be in a great state of excitement, said; "Bráhman,

how come you to have this dog on your shoulder? Put it down." When

the Bráhman heard that, he paid no attention to it, but went on his

way. Then two more came up and said the very same thing to him. Then

he began to doubt, and went along examining the goat carefully,

when three other rascals came up to him and said: "How comes it that

you carry a dog and a sacrificial thread at the same time? Surely

you must be a hunter, not a Bráhman, and this is the dog with the

help of which you kill game." When the Bráhman heard that, he said:

"Surely some demon has smitten my sight and bewildered me. Can all

these men be under the influence of an optical delusion?" Thereupon

the Bráhman flung down the goat, and after bathing, returned home,

and the rogues took the goat and made a satisfactory meal off it.

After Chirajívin had told this tale, he said to the king of the crows:

"So you see, king, numerous and powerful foes are hard to conquer. So

you had better adopt, in this war with powerful foes, the following

expedient, which I suggest. Pluck out some of my feathers, [92] and

leave me under this tree, and go to that hill there, until I return,

having accomplished my object. The king of the crows agreed, and

plucked out some of his feathers, as if in anger, and placed him

under the tree, and went off to the mountain with his followers:

and Chirajívin remained lying flat under the tree which was his home.

Then the king of the owls, Avamarda, came there at night with

his followers, and he did not see a single crow on the tree. At

that moment Chirajívin uttered a feeble caw below, and the king

of the owls, hearing it, came down, and saw him lying there. In his

astonishment he asked him who he was, and why he was in that state. And

Chirajívin answered, pretending that his voice was weak from pain;

"I am Chirajívin, the minister of that king of the crows. And he

wished to make an attack on you in accordance with the advice of his

ministers. Then I rebuked those other ministers, and said to him,

'If you ask me for advice, and if I am valued by you, in that case

you will not make war with the powerful king of the owls. But you will

endeavour to propitiate him, if you have any regard for policy.' When

the foolish king of the crows heard that, he exclaimed, 'This fellow

is a partisan of my enemies,' and in his wrath, he and his followers

pecked me, and reduced me to this state. And he flung me down under

the tree, and went off somewhere or other with his followers." When

Chirajívin had said this, he sighed, and turned his face to the

ground. And then the king of the owls asked his ministers what they

ought to do with Chirajívin. When his minister Díptanayana heard this,

he said, "Good people spare even a thief, though ordinarily he ought

not to be spared, if they find that he is a benefactor."

Story of the old merchant and his young wife. [93]

For once on a time there was a certain merchant in a certain town, who,

though old, managed to marry by the help of his wealth a young girl

of the merchant caste. And she was always averse to him on account of

his old age, as the bee turns away from the forest-tree when the time

of flowers is past. [94] And one night a thief got into his house,

while the husband and wife were in bed; and, when the wife saw him,

she was afraid, and turned round and embraced her husband. The merchant

thought that a wonderful piece of good fortune, and while looking in

all directions for the explanation, he saw the thief in a corner. The

merchant said; "You have done me a benefit, so I will not have you

killed by my servants." And so he spared his life and sent him away.

"So we ought to spare the life of this Chirajívin, as he is

our benefactor." When the minister Díptanayana had said this, he

remained silent. Then the king of the owls said to another minister,

named Vakranása, "What ought we to do? Give me proper advice." Then

Vakranása said, "He should be spared, for he knows the secrets of

our foes. This quarrel between the enemies' king and his minister

is for our advantage. Listen, and I will tell you a story which will

illustrate it."

Story of the Bráhman, the thief, and the Rákshasa. [95]

A certain excellent Bráhman received two cows as a donation. A thief

happened to see them, and began plotting how to carry them off. At

that very time a Rákshasa was longing to eat that Bráhman. It happened

that the thief and the Rákshasa, as they were going to his house at

night to accomplish their objects, met, and telling one another their

errands, went together. When the thief and the Rákshasa entered the

Bráhman's dwelling, they began to wrangle. The thief said; "I will

carry off the oxen first, for if you lay hold of the Bráhman first,

and he wakes up, how can I get the yoke of oxen?" The Rákshasa said;

"By no means! I will first carry off the Bráhman, otherwise he will

wake up with the noise of the feet of the oxen, and my labour will

all be in vain." While this was going on, the Bráhman woke up. Then he

took his sword, and began to recite a charm for destroying Rákshasas,

and the thief and the Rákshasa both fled.

"So the quarrel between those two, Chirajívin and the king of the

crows, will be to our advantage, as the quarrel between the thief

and the Rákshasa was to the advantage of the Bráhman." When Vakranása

said this, the king of the owls asked his minister Prákárakarna for

his opinion, and he answered him; "This Chirajívin should be treated

with compassion, as he is in distress, and has applied to us for

protection: in old time Sivi offered his flesh for the sake of one

who sought his protection. [96] When the king of the owls heard this

from Prákárakarna, he asked the advice of his minister Krúralochana,

and he gave him the same answer.

Then the king of the owls asked a minister named Raktáksha, and he,

being a discreet minister, said to him; "King, these ministers have

done their best to ruin you by impolitic advice. Those, who know

policy, place no confidence in the acts of a hereditary enemy. It

is only a fool that, though he sees the fault, is satisfied with

insincere flattery."

Story of the carpenter and his wife. [97]

For once on a time there was a carpenter, who had a wife whom he loved

dearly; and the carpenter heard from his neighbours that she was in

love with another man; so, wishing to test the fidelity of his wife,

he said to her one day: "My dear, I am by command of the king going a

long journey to-day, in order to do a job, so give me barley-meal and

other things as provision for the journey." She obeyed and gave him

provisions, and he went out of the house; and then secretly came back

into it, and with a pupil of his hid himself under the bed. As for the

wife, she summoned her paramour. And while she was sitting with him on

the bed, the wicked woman happened to touch her husband with her foot,

and found out that he was there. And a moment after, her paramour,

being puzzled, asked her which she loved the best, himself or her

husband. When she heard this, the artful and treacherous woman said

to that lover of hers; "I love my husband best, for his sake I would

surrender my life. As for this unfaithfulness of mine, it is natural

to women; they would even eat dirt, if they had no noses."

When the carpenter heard this hypocritical speech of the adulteress,

he came out from under the bed, and said to his pupil; "You have seen,

you are my witness to this; though my wife has betaken herself to

this lover, she is still so devoted to me; so I will carry her on my

head." When the silly fellow had said this, he immediately took them

both up, as they sat on the bed, upon his head, with the help of his

pupil, and carried them about.

"So an undiscerning blockhead, though he sees a crime committed before

his eyes, is satisfied with hypocritical flattery, and makes himself

ridiculous. So you must not spare Chirajívin, who is a follower of your

enemy, for, if not carefully watched, he might slay your Majesty in

a moment, like a disease." When the king of the owls heard Raktáksha

say this, he answered; "It was in trying to benefit us that the worthy

creature was reduced to this state. So how can we do otherwise than

spare his life? Besides, what harm can he do us unaided?" So the king

of the owls rejected the advice of Raktáksha, and comforted that crow

Chirajívin. Then Chirajívin said to the king of the owls, "What is

the use to me of life, now that I am in this state? So have logs of

wood brought me, in order that I may enter the fire. And I will ask

the fire as a boon, that I may be born again as an owl, in order that

I may wreak my vengeance upon this king of the crows." When he said

this, Raktáksha laughed and said to him; "By the favour of our master

you will be well enough off: what need is there of fire? Moreover

you will never become an owl, as long as you have the nature of a

crow. Every creature is such as he is made by the Creator."

Story of the mouse that was turned into a maiden. [98]

For once on a time a hermit found a young mouse, which had escaped

from the claws of a kite, and pitying it, made it by the might of his

asceticism into a young maiden. And he brought her up in his hermitage;

and, when he saw that she had grown up, wishing to give her to a

powerful husband, he summoned the sun. And he said to the sun; "Marry

this maiden, whom I wish to give in marriage to some mighty one." Then

the sun answered, "The cloud is more powerful than I, he obscures me

in a moment." When the hermit heard that, he dismissed the sun, and

summoned the cloud, and made the same proposal to him. He replied,

"The wind is more powerful than I: he drives me into any quarter of

the heaven he pleases." When the hermit got this answer, he summoned

the wind and made the same proposal to him. And the wind replied,

"The mountains are stronger than I, for I cannot move them." When the

great hermit heard this, he summoned the Himálaya, and made the same

proposal to him. That mountain answered him; "The mice are stronger

than I am, for they dig holes in me."

Having thus got these answers in succession from those wise divinities,

the great rishi summoned a forest mouse, and said to him, "Marry this

maiden." Thereupon the mouse said, "Shew me how she is to be got

into my hole." Then the hermit said, "It is better that she should

return to her condition as a mouse." So he made her a mouse again,

and gave her to that male mouse.

"So a creature returns to what it was, at the end of a long

peregrination, accordingly you, Chirajívin, will never become an

owl." When Raktáksha said this to Chirajívin, the latter reflected;

"This king has not acted on the advice of this minister, who is skilled

in policy. All these others are fools, so my object is gained." While

he was thus reflecting, the king of the owls took Chirajívin with

him to his own fortress, confiding in his own strength, disregarding

the advice of Raktáksha. And Chirajívin, being about his person, and

fed with pieces of meat and other delicacies by him, soon acquired

as splendid a plumage as a peacock. [99] One day, Chirajívin said

to the king of the owls; "King, I will go and encourage that king

of the crows and bring him back to his dwelling, in order that you

may attack him this night and slay him, and that I may make [100]

some return for this favour of yours. But do you all fortify your

door with grass and other things, and remain in the cave where your

nests are, that they may not attack you by day." When, by saying this,

Chirajívin had made the owls retire into their cave, and barricade

the door and the approaches to the cave, with grass and leaves,

he went back to his own king. And with him he returned, carrying

a brand from a pyre, all ablaze, in his beak, and every one of the

crows that followed him had a piece of wood hanging down from his

beak. And the moment he arrived, he set on fire the door of the cave,

in which were those owls, creatures that are blind by day, which had

been barricaded with dry grass and other stuff.

And every crow, in the same way, threw down at the same time his piece

of wood, and so kindled a fire and burnt the owls, king and all. [101]

And the king of the crows, having destroyed his enemies with the help

of Chirajívin, was highly delighted, and returned with his tribe

of crows to his own banyan-tree. Then Chirajívin told the story of

how he lived among his enemies, to king Meghavarna, the king of the

crows, and said to him; "Your enemy, king, had one good minister

named Raktáksha; it is because he was infatuated by confidence,

and did not act on that minister's advice, that I was allowed to

remain uninjured. Because the villain did not act on his advice,

thinking it was groundless, I was able to gain the confidence of the

impolitic fool, and to deceive him. It was by a feigned semblance of

submission that the snake entrapped and killed the frogs."

Story of the snake and the frogs. [102]

A certain old snake, being unable to catch frogs easily on the bank of

a lake, which was frequented by men, remained there motionless. And

when he was there, the frogs asked him, keeping at a safe distance;

"Tell us, worthy sir, why do you no longer eat frogs as of old?" When

the snake was asked this question by the frogs, he answered, "While

I was pursuing a frog, I one day bit a Bráhman's son in the finger

by mistake, and he died. And his father by a curse made me a bearer

of frogs. So how can I eat you now? On the contrary I will carry you

on my back."

When the king of the frogs heard that, he was desirous of being

carried, and putting aside fear, he came out of the water, and

joyfully mounted on the back of the snake. Then the snake, having

gained his good-will by carrying him about with his ministers,

represented himself as exhausted, and said cunningly; "I cannot go

a step further without food, so give me something to eat. How can

a servant exist without subsistence?" When the frog-king, who was

fond of being carried about, heard this, he said to him; "Eat a few

of my followers then." So the snake ate all the frogs in succession,

as he pleased, and the king of the frogs put up with it, being blinded

with pride at being carried about by the snake.

"Thus a fool is deceived by a wise man who worms himself into his

confidence. And in the same way I ingratiated myself with your enemies

and brought about their ruin. So a king must be skilled in policy

and self-restrained; a fool is plundered by his servants and slain

by his foes at will. And this goddess of prosperity, O king, is ever

treacherous as gambling, fickle as a wave, intoxicating as wine. But

she remains as persistently constant to a king, who is self-contained,

well-advised, free from vice, and knows differences of character,

as if she were tied with a rope. So you must now remain attentive

to the words of the wise, and glad at the slaughter of your enemies,

rule a realm free from opponents." When the minister Chirajívin said

this to the crow-king Meghavarna, the latter loaded him with honours,

and ruled as he recommended.

When Gomukha had said this, he went on to say to the son of the

king of Vatsa; "So you see, king, that even animals are able to rule

prosperously by means of discretion, but the indiscreet are always

ruined and become the laughing-stock of the public."

Story of the foolish servant.

For instance a certain rich man had a foolish servant. He, while

shampooing him, in his extreme folly gave him a slap on his body,

(for he fancied in his conceit that he thoroughly understood the

business while he really knew nothing about it,) and so broke his

skin. Then he was dismissed by that master and sank into utter despair.

"The fact is a man who, while ignorant, thinks himself wise, and

rushes impetuously at any business, is ruined; hear another story in

proof of it."

Story of the two brothers who divided all that they had. [103]

In Málava there were two Bráhman brothers, and the wealth they

inherited from their father was left jointly between them. And while

dividing that wealth, they quarrelled about one having too little

and the other having too much, and they made a teacher learned in the

Vedas arbitrator, and he said to them; "You must divide every single

thing into two halves, in order that you may not quarrel about the

inequality of the division." When the two fools heard this, they

divided every single thing into two equal parts, house, beds, et

cetera; in fact all their wealth, even the cattle. They had only one

female slave; her also they cut in two. When the king heard of that,

he punished them with the confiscation of all their property.

"So fools, following the advice of other fools, lose this world and

the next. Accordingly a wise man should not serve fools: he should

serve wise men. Discontent also does harm, for listen to this tale."

The story of the mendicants who became emaciated from discontent.

There were some wandering mendicants, who became fat by being satisfied

with what they got by way of alms. Some friends saw this and began

to remark to one another; "Well! these mendicants are fat enough,

though they do live on what they get by begging." Then one of them

said,--"I will shew you a strange sight. I will make these men thin,

though they eat the same things as before." When he had said this,

he proceeded to invite the mendicants for one day to his house,

and gave them to eat the best possible food, containing all the

six flavours. [104] And those foolish men, remembering the taste

of it, no longer felt any appetite for the food they got as alms;

so they became thin. So that man who had entertained them, when he

saw these mendicants near, pointed them out to his friends, and said;

"Formerly these men were sleek and fat, because they were satisfied

with the food which they got as alms, now they have become thin, owing

to disgust, being dissatisfied with their alms. Therefore a wise man,

who desires happiness, should establish his mind in contentment; for

dissatisfaction produces in both worlds intolerable and unceasing

grief." When he had given his friends this lesson, they abandoned

discontent, the source of crime; to whom is not association with the

good improving? "Now king, hear of the fool and the gold."

Story of the fool who saw gold in the water. [105]

A certain young man went to a tank to drink water. There the fool saw

in the water the reflection of a golden-crested bird, that was sitting

on a tree. [106] This reflection was of a golden hue, and, thinking it

was real gold, he entered the tank to get it, but he could not lay hold

of it, as it kept appearing and disappearing in the moving water. But

as often as he ascended the bank, he again saw it in the water, and

again and again he entered the tank to lay hold of it, and still he

got nothing. Then his father saw him and questioned him, and drove away

the bird, and then, when he no longer saw the reflection in the water,

explained to him the whole thing, and took the foolish fellow home.

"Thus foolish people, who do not reflect, are deceived by false

suppositions, and become the source of laughter to their enemies, and

of sorrow to their friends. Now hear another tale of some great fools."

Story of the servants who kept rain off the trunks. [107]

The camel of a certain merchant gave way under its load on a

journey. He said to his servants, "I will go and buy another camel

to carry the half of this camel's load. And you must remain here,

and take particular care that, if it clouds over, the rain does not

wet the leather of these trunks, which are full of clothes." With

these words the merchant left the servants by the side of the camel,

and went off, and suddenly a cloud came up and began to discharge

rain. Then the fools said; "Our master told us to take care that the

rain did not touch the leather of the trunks;" and after they had made

this sage reflection, they dragged the clothes out of the trunks and

wrapped them round the leather. The consequence was, that the rain

spoiled the clothes. Then the merchant returned, and in a rage said

to his servants; "You rascals! Talk of water! Why the whole stock of

clothes is spoiled by the rain." And they answered him; "You told us

to keep the rain off the leather of the trunks. What fault have we

committed?" He answered; "I told you that, if the leather got wet,

the clothes would be spoiled: I told it you in order to save the

clothes, not the leather." Then he placed the load on another camel,

and when he returned home, imposed a fine on his servants amounting

to the whole of their wealth.

"Thus fools, with undiscerning hearts, turn things upside down, and

ruin their own interests and those of other people, and give such

absurd answers. Now hear in a few words the story of the fool and

the cakes."

Story of the fool and the cakes. [108]

A certain traveller bought eight cakes for a pana; and he ate six of

them without being satisfied, but his hunger was satisfied by eating

the seventh. Then the blockhead exclaimed; "I have been cheated;

why did I not eat this cake, which has allayed the pangs of hunger,

first of all? Why did I waste those others, why did I not store them

up?" In these words he bewailed the fact that his hunger was only

gradually satisfied, and the people laughed at him for his ignorance.

Story of the servant who looked after the door. [109]

A certain merchant said to his foolish servant; "Take care of the

door of my shop, I am going home for a moment. After the merchant had

said this, he went away, and the servant took the shop-door on his

shoulder and went off to see an actor perform. And as he was returning,

his master met him and gave him a scolding. And he answered, "I have

taken care of this door as you told me."

"So a fool, who attends only to the words of an order and does not

understand the meaning, causes detriment. Now hear the wonderful

story of the buffalo and the simpletons."

Story of the simpletons who ate the buffalo.

Some villagers took a buffalo belonging to a certain man, and killed

it in an enclosure outside the village, under a banyan-tree, and,

dividing it, ate it up. The proprietor of the buffalo went and

complained to the king, and he had the villagers, who had eaten

the buffalo, brought before him. And the proprietor of the buffalo

said before the king, in their presence; "These foolish men took

my buffalo under a banyan-tree near the tank, and killed it and ate

it before my eyes." Whereupon an old fool among the villagers said,

"There is no tank or banyan-tree in our village. He says what is not

true: where did we kill his buffalo or eat it?"

When the proprietor of the buffalo heard this, he said; "What! is there

not a banyan-tree and a tank on the east side of the village? Moreover,

you ate my buffalo on the eighth day of the lunar month." When

the proprietor of the buffalo said this, the old fool replied,

"There is no east side or eighth day in our village." When the king

heard this, he laughed, and said, to encourage the fool; "You are a

truthful person, you never say anything false, so tell me the truth,

did you eat that buffalo or did you not?" When the fool heard that,

he said, "I was born three years after my father died, and he taught

me skill in speaking. So I never say what is untrue, my sovereign;

it is true that we ate his buffalo, but all the rest that he alleges

is false." When the king heard this, he and his courtiers could not

restrain their laughter; so the king restored the price of the buffalo

to the plaintiff, and fined those villagers.

"So, fools, in the conceit of their folly, while they deny what need

not be denied, reveal what it is their interest to suppress, in order

to get themselves believed."

Story of the fool who behaved like a Brahmany drake.

A certain foolish man had an angry wife, who said to him; "To-morrow

I shall go to my father's house, I am invited to a feast. So if

you do not bring me a garland of blue lotuses from somewhere or

other, you will cease to be my husband, and I shall cease to be

your wife." Accordingly he went at night to the king's tank to fetch

them. And when he entered it, the guards saw him, and cried out; "Who

are you?" He said, "I am a Brahmany drake," but they took him prisoner;

and in the morning he was brought before the king, and when questioned,

he uttered in his presence the cry of that bird. Then the king himself

summoned him and questioned him persistently, and when he told his

story, being a merciful monarch, he let the wretched man go unpunished.

Story of the physician who tried to cure a hunchback.

And a certain Bráhman said to a foolish physician; "Drive in the hump

on the back of my son who is deformed." When the physician heard that,

he said; "Give me ten panas, I will give you ten times as many, if I

do not succeed in this." Having thus made a bet, and having taken the

ten panas from the Bráhman, the physician only tortured the hunchback

with sweating and other remedies. But he was not able to remove the

hump; so he paid down the hundred panas; for who in this world would

be able to make straight a hunchbacked man?

"So the boastful fashion of promising to accomplish impossibilities

only makes a man ridiculous. Therefore a discreet person should not

walk in these ways of fools." When the wise prince Naraváhanadatta

had heard, at night, these tales of fools from his auspicious-mouthed

minister, named Gomukha, he was exceedingly pleased with him.

And though he was pining for Saktiyasas, yet, owing to the pleasure

he derived from the stories that Gomukha told him, he was enabled

to get to sleep, when he went to bed, and slept surrounded by his

ministers who had grown up with him.

CHAPTER LXIII.

The next morning Naraváhanadatta woke up, and thinking on his beloved

Saktiyasas, became distracted. And thinking that the rest of the month,

until he married her, was as long as an age, he could not find pleasure

in anything, as his mind was longing for a new wife. When the king,

his father, heard that from the mouth of Gomukha, out of love for

him, he sent him his ministers, and Vasantaka was among them. Then,

out of respect for them, the prince of Vatsa managed to recover

his composure. And the discreet minister Gomukha said to Vasantaka;

"Noble Vasantaka, tell some new and romantic tale to delight the mind

of the crown-prince. Then the wise Vasantaka began to tell this tale.

Story of Yasodhara and Lakshmídhara and the two wives of the

water-genius.

There was a famous Bráhman in Málava, named Srídhara. And twin sons,

of like feature, were born to him. The eldest was named Yasodhara,

and his younger brother was Lakshmídhara. And when they grew up,

the two brothers set out together for a foreign country to study,

with the approval of their father. And as they were travelling along,

they reached a great wilderness, without water, without the shade of

trees, full of burning sand; and being fatigued with passing through

it, and exhausted with heat and thirst, they reached in the evening

a shady tree laden with fruit. And they saw, at a little distance

from its foot, a lake with cold and clear water, perfumed with the

fragrance of lotuses. They bathed in it, and refreshed themselves

with drinking the cold water, and sitting down on a slab of rock,

rested for a time. And when the sun set, they said their evening

prayers, and through fear of wild beasts they climbed up the tree,

to spend the night there. And in the beginning of the night, many men

rose out of the water of that tank below them, before their eyes. And

one of them swept the ground, another painted it, and another strewed

on it flowers of five colours. And another brought a golden couch

and placed it there, and another spread on it a mattress with a

coverlet. Another brought, and placed in a certain spot, under the

tree, delicious food and drink, flowers and unguents. Then there arose

from the surface of that lake a man wearing a sword, and adorned with

heavenly ornaments, surpassing in beauty the god of Love. [110] When

he had sat down on the couch, his attendants threw garlands round his

neck, and anointed him with unguents, and then they all plunged again

into the lake. Then he brought out of his mouth a lady of noble form

and modest appearance, wearing auspicious garlands and ornaments,

and a second, rich in celestial beauty, resplendent with magnificent

robes and ornaments. [111] These were both his wives, but the second

was the favourite. Then the first and good wife placed jewelled plates

on the table, and handed food in two plates to her husband and her

rival. When they had eaten, she also ate; and then her husband reclined

on the couch with the rival wife, and went to sleep. And the first

wife shampooed his feet, and the second remained awake on the couch.

When the Bráhman's sons who were in the tree, saw this, they said

to one another, "Who can this be? Let us go down and ask the lady

who is shampooing his feet, for all these are immortal beings." Then

they got down and approached the first wife, and then the second saw

Yasodhara: then she rose up from the couch in her inordinate passion,

while her husband was asleep, and approaching that handsome youth,

said, "Be my lover." He answered, "Wicked woman, you are to me the

wife of another, and I am to you a strange man. Then why do you

speak thus?" She answered, "I have had a hundred lovers. Why are you

afraid? If you do not believe it, look at these hundred rings, [112]

for I have taken one ring from each of them." With these words she

took the rings out of the corner of her garment, and shewed them to

him. Then Yasodhara said, "I do not care whether you have a hundred

or a hundred thousand lovers, to me you are as a mother; I am not

a person of that sort." When the wicked woman was repelled by him

in this way, she woke up her husband in her wrath, and, pointing to

Yasodhara, said with tears, "This scoundrel, while you were asleep,

used violence to me." When her husband heard this, he rose up and

drew his sword. Then the first and virtuous wife embraced his feet,

and said, "Do not commit a crime on false evidence. Hear what I have

to say. This wicked woman, when she saw him, rose up from your side,

and eagerly importuned him, and the virtuous man did not consent to her

proposal." When he repelled her, saying, 'You are to me as a mother,'

being unable to endure that, in her anger she woke you up, to make

you kill him. And she has already before my eyes had a hundred lovers

here on various nights, travellers who were reposing in this tree, and

taken their rings from them. But I never told you, not wishing to give

rise to unpleasantness. However, to-day I am necessarily compelled to

reveal this secret, lest you should be guilty of a crime. Just look at

the rings in the corner of her garment, if you do not believe it. And

my wifely virtue is of such a kind that I cannot tell my husband what

is untrue. In order that you may be convinced of my faithfulness,

see this proof of my power." After saying this, she reduced that tree

to ashes with an angry look, and restored it more magnificent than

it was before with a look of kindness. When her husband saw that,

he was at last satisfied and embraced her. And he sent that second

wife, the adulteress, about her business, after cutting off her nose,

and taking the rings from the corner of her garment.

He restrained his anger, when he beheld that student of the scripture,

Yasodhara, with his brother, and he said to him despondingly; "Out

of jealousy I always keep these wives of mine in my heart. But still

I have not been able to keep safe this wicked woman. Who can arrest

the lightning? Who can guard a disloyal woman? As for a chaste woman,

she is guarded by her own modesty alone, and being guarded by it,

she guards [113] her husband in both worlds, as I have to-day been

guarded by this woman, whose patience is more admirable even than her

power of cursing. By her kindness I have got rid of an unfaithful wife,

and avoided the awful crime of killing a virtuous Bráhman." When he

had said this, he made Yasodhara sit down, and said to him, "Tell

me whence you come and whither you are going." Then Yasodhara told

him his history, and having gained his confidence, said to him out of

curiosity, "Noble sir, if it is not a secret, tell me now, who you are,

and why, though you possess such luxury, you dwell in the water." When

the man who lived in the water heard this, he said, "Hear! I will

tell you." And he began to tell his history in the following words.

Story of the water-genius in his previous birth.

There is a region in the south of the Himálaya, called Kasmíra;

which Providence seems to have created in order to prevent mortals

from hankering after Heaven; where Siva and Vishnu, as self-existent

deities, inhabit a hundred shrines, forgetting their happy homes in

Kailása and Svetadvípa; which is laved by the waters of the Vitastá,

and full of heroes and sages, and proof against treacherous crimes

and enemies, though powerful. There I was born in my former life,

as an ordinary villager of the Bráhman caste, with two wives, and my

name was Bhavasarman. There I once struck up a friendship with some

Buddhist mendicants, and undertook the vow, called the fast Uposhana,

prescribed in their scriptures. And when this vow was almost completed,

one of my wives wickedly came and slept in my bed. And in the fourth

watch of the night, bewildered with sleep, I broke my vow. But as

it fell only a little short of completion, I have been born as a

water-genius, and these two wives of mine have been born as my present

wives here. That wicked woman was born as that unfaithful wife,

the second as this faithful one. So great was the power of my vow,

though it was rendered imperfect, that I remember my former birth,

and enjoy such luxuries every night. If I had not rendered my vow

imperfect, I should never have been born as what I am.

When he had told his story in these words, he honoured those two

brothers as guests, with delicious food and heavenly garments. Then

his faithful wife, having heard of her former life, knelt on the

ground, and looking at the moon, uttered this prayer, "O guardians

of the world, if I am in truth virtuous and devoted to my husband,

may this husband of mine be at once delivered from the necessity of

dwelling in the water and go to heaven." The moment she had said this,

a chariot descended from heaven, and the husband and wife ascended it

and went to heaven. Nothing in the three worlds is unattainable by

really chaste women. And the two Bráhmans, when they saw that, were

greatly astonished. And Yasodhara and Lakshmídhara, after spending the

rest of the night there, set out in the morning. And in the evening

they reached the foot of a tree in a lonely wilderness. And while

they were longing to get water, they heard this voice from the tree,

"Wait a little, Bráhmans! I will entertain you to-day with a bath

and food, for you are come to my house." Then the voice ceased,

and there sprang up there a tank of water, and meats and drinks of

every kind were provided on its bank. The two Bráhman youths said

with astonishment to one another,--"What does this mean?" And after

bathing in the tank, they ate and drank. Then they said the evening

prayer and remained under the tree, and in the meanwhile a handsome

man appeared from it. They saluted him, and he welcomed them, and he

sat down. Thereupon the two Bráhman youths asked him who he was. Then

the man said--

Story of the Bráhman who became a Yaksha.

Long ago I was a Bráhman in distress, and when I was in this condition,

I happened to make friends with some Buddhist ascetics. But while

I was performing the vow called Uposhana, which they had taught me,

a wicked man made me take food in the evening by force. That made my

vow incomplete, so I was born as a Guhyaka; if I had only completed

it, I should have been born as a god in heaven.

"So I have told you my story, but now do you two tell me, who you are,

and why you have come to this desert." When Yasodhara heard this, he

told him their story. Thereupon the Yaksha went on to say; "If this

is the case, I will by my own power bestow on you the sciences. Go

home with a knowledge of them. What is the use of roaming about in

foreign countries?" When he had said this, he bestowed on them the

sciences, and by his power they immediately possessed them. Then

the Yaksha said to them, "Now I entreat you to give me a fee as your

instructor. You must perform, on my behalf, this Uposhana vow, which

involves the speaking of the truth, the observing of strict chastity,

the circumambulating the images of the gods with the right side turned

towards them, the eating only at the time when Buddhist mendicants do,

restraint of the mind, and patience. You must perform this for one

night, and bestow the fruit of it on me, in order that I may obtain

that divinity, which is the proper fruit of my vow, when completely

performed." When the Yaksha said this, they bowed before him and

granted his request, and he disappeared in that very same tree.

And the two brothers, delighted at having accomplished their object

without any toil, after they had passed the night, returned to

their own home. There they told their adventures and delighted their

parents, and performed that vow of fasting for the benefit of the

Yaksha. Then that Yaksha, who taught them, appeared in a sky-chariot,

and said to them; "Through your kindness I have ceased to be a Yaksha

and have become a god. So now you must perform this vow for your own

advantage, in order that at your death you may attain divinity. And in

the meanwhile I give you a boon, by which you will have inexhaustible

wealth." When the deity, who roamed about at will, had said this, he

went to heaven in his chariot. Then the two brothers, Yasodhara and

Lakshmídhara, lived happily, having performed that vow, and having

obtained wealth and knowledge.

"So you see that, if men are addicted to righteousness, and do not,

even in emergencies, desert their principles, even the gods protect

them and cause them to attain their objects." Naraváhanadatta,

while longing for his beloved Saktiyasas, was much delighted with

this marvellous story told by Vasantaka; but having been summoned

by his father at the dinner hour, he went to his palace with his

ministers. There he took the requisite refreshment, and returned

to his palace, with Gomukha and his other ministers. Then Gomukha,

in order to amuse him, again said,--"Listen, prince, I will tell you

another string of tales."

Story of the monkey and the porpoise. [114]

There lived in a forest of udumbaras, on the shore of the sea, a king

of monkeys, named Valímukha, who had strayed from his troop. While he

was eating an udumbara fruit, it fell from his hand and was devoured

by a porpoise that lived in the water of the sea. The porpoise,

delighted at the taste of the fruit, uttered a melodious sound, which

pleased the monkey so much, that he threw him many more fruits. And

so the monkey went on throwing fruits, [115] and the porpoise went

on making a melodious sound, until a friendship sprang up between

them. So every day the porpoise spent the day in the water near the

monkey, who remained on the bank, and in the evening he went home.

Then the wife of the porpoise came to learn the facts, and as she did

not approve of the friendship between the monkey and her husband, which

caused the latter to be absent all day, she pretended to be ill. Then

the porpoise was afflicted, and asked his wife again and again what

was the nature of her sickness, and what would cure it. Though he

importuned her persistently, she would give no answer, but at last a

female confidante of hers said to him: "Although you will not do it,

and she does not wish you to do it, still I must speak. How can a

wise person conceal sorrow from friends? A violent disease has seized

your wife, of such a kind that it cannot be cured without soup made

of the lotus-like heart of a monkey." [116] When the porpoise heard

this from his wife's confidante, he reflected;--"Alas! how shall I

obtain the lotus-like heart of a monkey? Is it right for me to plot

treachery against the monkey, who is my friend? On the other hand

how else can I cure my wife, whom I love more than my life?" When the

porpoise had thus reflected, he said to his wife; "I will bring you

a whole monkey, my dear, do not be unhappy." When he had said this,

he went to his friend the monkey, and said to him, after he had got

into conversation; "Up to this day you have never seen my home and

my wife; so come, let us go and rest there one day. Friendship is

but hollow, when friends do not go without ceremony and eat at one

another's houses, and introduce their wives to one another." With

these words the porpoise beguiled the monkey, and induced him to come

down into the water, and took him on his back and set out. And as he

was going along, the monkey saw that he was troubled and confused,

and said, "My friend, you seem to be altered to-day." And when he

went on persistently enquiring the reason, the stupid porpoise,

thinking that the ape was in his power, said to him; "The fact is,

my wife is ill, and she has been asking me for the heart of a monkey

to be used as a remedy; that is why I am in low spirits to-day." When

the wise monkey heard this speech of his, he reflected, "Ah! This is

why the villain has brought me here! Alas! this fellow is overpowered

by infatuation for a female, and is ready to plot treachery against

his friend. Will not a person possessed by a demon eat his own flesh

with his teeth?" After the monkey had thus reflected, he said to the

porpoise; "If this is the case, why did you not inform me of this

before, my friend? I will go and get my heart for your wife. For I

have at present left it on the udumbara-tree on which I live. [117]

When the silly porpoise heard this, he was sorry and he said; "Then

bring it, my friend, from the udumbara-tree." And thereupon the

porpoise took him back to the shore of the sea. When he got there,

he bounded up the bank, as if he had just escaped from the grasp of

death, and climbing up to the top of the tree, said to that porpoise,

"Off with you, you fool! Does any animal keep his heart outside his

body? However, by this artifice I have saved my life, and I will not

return to you. Have you not heard, my friend, the story of the ass?"

Story of the sick lion, the jackal, and the ass. [118]

There lived in a certain forest a lion, who had a jackal for a

minister. A certain king, who had gone to hunt, once found him, and

wounded him so sorely with his weapons, that he with difficulty escaped

to his den alive. When the king was gone, the lion still remained in

the den, and his minister, the jackal, who lived on his leavings, being

exhausted for want of food, said to him; "My lord, why do you not go

out and seek for food to the best of your ability, for your own body

is being famished as well as your attendants?" When the jackal said

this to the lion, he answered; "My friend, I am exhausted with wounds,

and I cannot roam about outside my den. If I could get the heart and

ears of a donkey to eat, my wounds would heal, and I should recover my

former health. So go and bring me a donkey quickly from somewhere or

other." The jackal agreed to do so and sallied out. As he was wandering

about, he found a washerman's ass in a solitary place, and he went up

to him, and said in a friendly way; "Why are you so exhausted?" The

donkey answered, "I am reduced by perpetually carrying this washerman's

load." The jackal said, "Why do you endure all this toil? Come with

me and I will take you to a forest as delightful as Heaven, where you

may grow fat in the society of she-asses." When the donkey, who was

longing for enjoyment, heard this, he went to the forest, in which

that lion ranged, in the company of that jackal. And when the lion

saw him, being weak from impaired vitality, he only gave him a blow

with his paw behind, and the donkey, being wounded by the blow, was

terrified and fled immediately, and did not come near the lion again,

and the lion fell down confused and bewildered. And then the lion,

not having accomplished his object, hastily returned to his den. Then

the jackal, his minister, said to him reproachfully; "My lord, if you

could not kill this miserable donkey, what chance is there of your

killing deer and other animals?" Then the lion said to him, "If you

know how, bring that donkey again. I will be ready and kill him."

When the lion had despatched the jackal with these words, he went

to the donkey and said; "Why did you run away, sir? And the donkey

answered, "I received a blow from some creature." Then the jackal

laughed and said, "You must have experienced a delusion. There is no

such creature there, for I, weak as I am, dwell there, in safety. So

come along with me to that forest, where pleasure is without

restraint." [119] When he said this, the donkey was deluded, and

returned to the forest. And as soon as the lion saw him, he came out

of his den, and springing on him from behind, tore him with his claws

and killed him. And the lion, after he had divided the donkey, placed

the jackal to guard it, and being fatigued, went away to bathe. And

in the meanwhile the deceitful jackal devoured the heart and ears of

that donkey, to gratify his appetite. The lion, after bathing, came

back, and perceiving the donkey in this condition, asked the jackal

where its ears and heart were. The jackal answered him; "The creature

never possessed ears or a heart,--otherwise how could he have returned

when he had once escaped?" When the lion heard that, he believed it,

and ate his flesh, and the jackal devoured what remained over.

When the ape had told this tale, he said again to the porpoise; "I

will not come again, why should I behave like the jackass." When the

porpoise heard this from the monkey, he returned home, grieving that he

had through his folly failed to execute his wife's commission, while

he had lost a friend. But his wife recovered her former tranquillity,

on account of the termination of her husband's friendship with the

ape. And the ape lived happily on the shore of the sea.

"So a wise person should place no confidence in a wicked person. How

can he, who confides in a wicked person or a black cobra, enjoy

prosperity?" When Gomukha had told this story, he again said to

Naraváhanadatta, to amuse him; "Now hear in succession about the

following ridiculous fools. Hear first about the fool who rewarded

the minstrel."

Story of the fool who gave a verbal reward to the musician. [120]

A certain musician once gave great pleasure to a rich man, by

singing and playing before him. He thereupon called his treasurer,

and said in the hearing of the musician, "Give this man two thousand

panas." The treasurer said, "I will do so," and went out. Then the

minstrel went and asked him for those panas. But the treasurer,

who had an understanding with his master, refused to give them.

Then the musician came and asked the rich man for the panas, but he

said; "What did you give me, that I should make you a return? You gave

a short-lived pleasure to my ears by playing on the lyre, and I gave

a short-lived pleasure to your ears by promising you money." When

the musician heard that, he despaired of his payment, laughed, and

went home.

"Would not that speech of the miser's make even a stone laugh? And now,

prince, hear the story of the two foolish pupils."

Story of the teacher and his two jealous pupils. [121]

A certain teacher had two pupils who were jealous of one another. And

one of those pupils washed and anointed every day the right foot of

his instructor, and the other did the same to the left foot. Now it

happened that one day the pupil, whose business it was to anoint the

right foot, had been sent to the village, so the teacher said to the

second pupil, whose business it was to anoint the left foot,--"To-day

you must wash and anoint my right foot also." When the foolish pupil

received this order, he coolly said to his teacher; "I cannot anoint

this foot that belongs to my rival." When he said this, the teacher

insisted. Then that pupil, who was the very opposite of a good pupil,

took hold of his teacher's foot in a passion, and exerting great force,

broke it. Then the teacher uttered a cry of pain, and the other pupils

came in and beat that wicked pupil, but he was rescued from them by

that teacher, who felt sorry for him.

The next day, the other pupil came back from the village, and when he

saw the injury that had been done to his teacher's foot, he asked the

history of it, and then he was inflamed with rage, and he said, "Why

should I not break the foot that belongs to that enemy of mine?" So he

laid hold of the teacher's second leg, and broke it. Then the others

began to beat that wicked pupil, but the teacher, both of whose legs

were broken, in compassion begged him off too. Then those two pupils

departed, laughed to scorn by the whole country, but their teacher,

who deserved so much credit for his patient temper, gradually got well.

Thus foolish attendants, by quarrelling with one another, ruin their

master's interests, and do not reap any advantage for themselves. Hear

the story of the two-headed serpent.

Story of the snake with two heads. [122]

A certain snake had two heads, one in the usual place and one in his

tail. But the head, that he had in his tail, was blind, the head,

that was in the usual place, was furnished with eyes. And there was a

quarrel between them, each saying that it was the principal head. Now

the serpent usually roamed about with his real head foremost. But

once on a time the head in the tail caught hold of a piece of wood,

and fastening firmly round it, prevented that snake from going on. The

consequence was that the snake considered this head very powerful,

as it had vanquished the head in front. And so the snake roamed about

with his blind head foremost, and in a hole he fell into fire, owing

to his not being able to see the way, and so he was burnt. [123]

Story of the fool who was nearly choked with rice.

"So those foolish people, many in number, who are quite at home in

a small accomplishment, through their attachment to this unimportant

accomplishment, are brought to ruin."

"Hear now about the fool who ate the grains of rice."

A certain foolish person came for the first time to his father-in-law's

house, and there he saw some white grains of rice, which his

mother-in-law had put down to be cooked, and he put a handful of

them into his mouth, meaning to eat them. And his mother-in-law

came in that very moment. Then the foolish man was so ashamed, that

he could not swallow the grains of rice, nor bring them up. And his

mother-in law, seeing that his throat was swollen and distended, and

that he was speechless, was afraid that he was ill, and summoned her

husband. And he, when he saw his state, quickly brought the physician,

and the physician, fearing that there was an internal tumour, seized

the head of that fool and opened his jaw. [124] Then the grains of

rice came out, and all those present laughed.

"Thus a fool does an unseemly act, and does not know how to conceal

it."

Story of the boys that milked the donkey. [125]

Certain foolish boys, having observed the process of milking in the

case of cows, got a donkey, and having surrounded it, proceeded to

milk it vigorously. One milked and another held the milk-pail, and

there was great emulation among them, as to who should first drink

the milk. And yet they did not obtain milk, though they laboured hard.

"The fact is, prince, a fool, who spends his labour on a chimera,

makes himself ridiculous."

Story of the foolish boy that went to the village for nothing.

There was a certain foolish son of a Bráhman, and his father said

to him one evening, "My son, you must go to the village early

to-morrow." Having heard this, he set out in the morning, without

asking his father what he was to do, and went to the village without

any object, and came back in the evening fatigued. He said to his

father, "I have been to the village." "Yes, but you have not done

any good by it," answered his father.

"So a fool, who acts without an object, becomes the laughing-stock

of people generally; he suffers fatigue, but does not do any

good." When the son of the king of Vatsa had heard from Gomukha,

his chief minister, this series of tales, rich in instruction,

and had declared that he was longing to obtain Saktiyasas, and had

perceived that the night was far spent, he closed his eyes in sleep,

and reposed surrounded by his ministers.

CHAPTER LXIV.

Then, the next evening, as Naraváhanadatta was again in his private

apartment, longing for union with his beloved, at his request Gomukha

told the following series of tales to amuse him.

Story of the Bráhman and the mungoose. [126]

There was in a certain village a Bráhman, named Devasarman; and he

had a wife of equally high birth, named Yajnadattá. And she became

pregnant, and in time gave birth to a son, and the Bráhman, though

poor, thought he had obtained a treasure in him. And when she had given

birth to the child, the Bráhman's wife went to the river to bathe, but

Devasarman remained in the house, taking care of his infant son. In

the meanwhile a maid came from the womens' apartments of the palace

to summon that Bráhman, who lived on presents received for performing

inauguratory ceremonies. Then he, eager for a fee, went off to the

palace, leaving a mungoose, which he had brought up from its birth,

to guard his child. After he had gone, a snake suddenly came near the

child, and the mungoose, seeing it, killed it out of love for his

master. Then the mungoose saw Devasarman returning at a distance,

and delighted, ran out to meet him, all stained with the blood of

the snake. And Devasarman, when he saw its appearance, felt certain

that it had killed his young child, and, in his agitation killed it

with a stone. But when he went into the house, and saw the snake

killed by the mungoose, and his boy alive, he repented of what he

had done. And when his wife returned and heard what had happened,

she reproached him, saying, "Why did you inconsiderately kill the

mungoose, which had done you a good turn?"

"Therefore a wise man, prince, should never do anything rashly. For a

person who acts rashly is destroyed in both worlds. And one who does

anything contrary to the prescribed method, obtains a result which

is the opposite of that desired."

Story of the fool that was his own doctor.

For instance, there was a man suffering from flatulence. And once

on a time the doctor gave him a medicine, to be used as a clyster,

and said to him, "Go to your house, and bruise this, and wait till

I come." The physician, after giving this order, delayed a little,

and in the meanwhile the fool, having reduced the drug to powder,

mixed it with water and drank it. That made him very ill, and when

the doctor came, he had to give him an emetic, and with difficulty

brought him round, when he was at the point of death. And he scolded

his patient, saying to him, "A clyster is not meant to be drunk, but

must be administered in the proper way. Why did you not wait for me?"

"So an action, useful in itself, if done contrary to rule, has bad

effects. Therefore a wise man should do nothing contrary to rule. And

the man, who acts without consideration, does what is wrong, and

immediately incurs reproach."

Story of the fool who mistook hermits for monkeys.

For instance, there was in a certain place a foolish man. He was

once going to a foreign country, accompanied by his son, and when

the caravan encamped in the forest, the boy entered the wood to amuse

himself. There he was scratched by monkeys, and with difficulty escaped

with life, and when his father asked him what had happened, the silly

boy, not knowing what monkeys were, said; "I was scratched in this

wood by some hairy creatures that live on fruits." When the father

heard it, he drew his sword in a rage, and went to that wood. And

seeing some ascetics with long matted hair, picking fruits there,

he ran towards them, saying to himself, "Those hairy rascals injured

my son." But a certain traveller there prevented him from killing

them, by saying; "I saw some monkeys scratch your son; do not kill

the hermits." So by good luck he was saved from committing a crime,

and returned to the caravan.

"So a wise man should never act without reflection. What is ever

likely to go wrong with a man who reflects? But the thoughtless are

always ruined and made the objects of public ridicule."

Story of the fool who found a purse.

For instance, a certain poor man, going on a journey, found a bag of

gold, that had been dropped by the head of a caravan. The fool, the

moment he found it, instead of going away, stood still where he was,

and began to count the gold. In the meanwhile the merchant, who was on

horseback, discovered his loss, and galloping back, he saw the bag of

gold in the poor man's possession, and took it away from him. So he

lost his wealth as soon as he got it, and went on his way sorrowful,

with his face fixed on the ground.

"Fools lose wealth as soon as they get it."

Story of the fool who looked for the moon.

A certain foolish man, who wished to see the new moon, was told by a

man who saw it, to look in the direction of his finger. He averted

his eyes from the sky, and stood staring at his friend's finger,

and so did not see the new moon, but saw the people laughing at him.

"Wisdom accomplishes the impossible, hear a story in proof of it."

Story of the woman who escaped from the monkey and the cowherd.

A certain woman set out alone to go to another village. And on the way

a monkey suddenly came and tried to lay hold of her, but she avoided

it by going to a tree and dodging round it. The foolish monkey threw

its arms round the tree, and she laid hold of its arms with her hands,

and pressed them against the tree.

The monkey, which was held tight, became furious, but at that moment

the woman saw a cowherd coming that way, and said to him; "Sir, hold

this ape by the arms a moment, until I can arrange my dress and hair,

which are disordered." He said, "I will do so, if you promise to

grant me your love," and she consented. And he held the monkey. Then

she drew his dagger and killed the monkey, and said to the cowherd,

"Come to a lonely spot," and so took him a long distance. At last they

fell in with some travellers, so she left him and went with them to the

village that she wished to reach, having avoided outrage by her wisdom.

"So you see that wisdom is in this world the principal support of

men; the man who is poor in wealth lives, but the man who is poor in

intellect does not live. Now hear, prince, this romantic wonderful

tale."

Story of the two thieves, Ghata and Karpara. [127]

There were in a certain city two thieves, named Ghata and Karpara. One

night Karpara left Ghata outside the palace, and breaking through the

wall, entered the bedchamber of the princess. And the princess, who

could not sleep, saw him there in a corner, and suddenly falling in

love with him, called him to her. And she gave him wealth, and said

to him; "I will give you much more if you come again." Then Karpara

went out, and told Ghata what had happened, and gave him the wealth,

and having thus got hold of the king's property, sent him home. But

he himself again entered the women's apartments of the palace; who,

that is attracted by love and covetousness, thinks of death? There he

remained with the princess, and bewildered with love and wine, he fell

asleep, and did not observe that the night was at an end. And in the

morning the guards of the women's apartments entered, and made him

prisoner, and informed the king, and he in his anger ordered him to

be put to death. "While he was being led to the place of execution,

his friend Ghata came to look for him, as he had not returned in

the course of the night. Then Karpara saw Ghata, and made a sign to

him that he was to carry off and take care of the princess. And he

answered by a sign that he would do so. Then Karpara was led away

by the executioners, and being at their mercy, was quickly hanged up

upon a tree, and so executed.

Then Ghata went home, sorrowing for his friend, and as soon as

night arrived, he dug a mine and entered the apartment of the

princess. Seeing her in fetters there alone, he went up to her and

said; "I am the friend of Karpara, who was to-day put to death on

account of you. And out of love for him I am come here to carry you

off, so come along, before your father does you an injury." Thereupon

she consented joyfully, and he removed her bonds. Then he went out

with her, who at once committed herself to his care, by the underground

passage he had made, and returned to his own house.

And next morning the king heard that his own daughter had been carried

off by some one, who had dug a secret mine, and that king thought

to himself, "Undoubtedly that wicked man whom I punished has some

audacious friend, who has carried off my daughter in this way." So he

set his servants to watch the body of Karpara, and he said to them,

"You must arrest any one who may come here lamenting, to burn the

corpse and perform the other rites, and so I shall recover that wicked

girl who has disgraced her family." When those guards had received

this order from the king, they said, "We will do so," and remained

continually watching the corpse of Karpara.

Then Ghata made enquiries, and found out what was going on, and said to

the princess; "My dear, my comrade Karpara was a very dear friend to

me, and by means of him I gained you and all these valuable jewels;

so until I have paid to him the debt of friendship, I cannot rest

in peace. So I will go and see his corpse, and by a device of mine

manage to lament over it, and I will in due course burn the body,

and scatter the bones in a holy place. And do not be afraid, I am not

reckless like Karpara." After he had said this to her, he immediately

assumed the appearance of a Pásupata ascetic, and taking boiled rice

and milk in a pot, he went near the corpse of Karpara, as if he were a

person passing that way casually, and when he got near it, he slipped,

and let fall from his hand and broke that pot of milk and rice, and

began lamenting, "O Karpara full of sweetness," [128] and so on. And

the guards thought that he was grieving for his pot full of food,

that he had got by begging. And immediately he went home and told

that to the princess. And the next day he made a servant, dressed as

a bride, go in front of him, and he had another behind him, carrying a

vessel full of sweetmeats, in which the juice of the Dhattúra had been

infused. And he himself assumed the appearance of a drunken villager,

and so in the evening he came reeling along past those guards, who were

watching the body of Karpara. They said to him, "Who are you, friend,

and who is this lady, and where are you going?" Then the cunning fellow

answered them with stuttering accents, "I am a villager; this is my

wife; I am going to the house of my father-in-law; and I am taking

for him this complimentary present of sweetmeats. But you have now

become my friends by speaking to me, so I will take only half of the

sweetmeats there; take the other half for yourselves." Saying this,

he gave a sweetmeat to each of the guards. And they received them,

laughing, and all of them partook of them. Accordingly Ghata, having

stupefied the guards with Dhattúra, at night brought fuel [129]

and burnt the body of Karpara.

The next morning, after he had departed, the king hearing of it,

removed those guards who had been stupefied, and placed others there,

and said; "You must guard these bones, and you must arrest whoever

attempts to take them away, and you must not accept food from any

outsider." When the guards were thus instructed by the king, they

remained on the lookout day and night, and Ghata heard of it. Then he,

being acquainted with the operation of a bewildering charm granted

him by Durgá, made a wandering mendicant his friend, in order to make

them repose confidence in him. And he went there with that wandering

mendicant, who was muttering spells, and bewildered those guards,

and recovered the bones of Karpara. And after throwing them into the

Ganges, he came and related what he had done, and lived happily with

the princess, accompanied by the mendicant. But the king, hearing that

the bones had been carried off, and the men guarding them stupefied,

thought that the whole exploit, beginning with the carrying off of

his daughter, was the doing of a magician. And he had the following

proclamation made in his city; "If that magician, who carried off my

daughter, and performed the other exploits connected with that feat,

will reveal himself, I will give him half my kingdom." When Ghata heard

this, he wished to reveal himself, but the princess dissuaded him,

saying, "Do not do so, you cannot repose any confidence in this king,

who treacherously puts people to death." [130] Then, for fear that,

if he remained there, the truth might come out, he set out for another

country with the princess and the mendicant.

And on the way the princess said secretly to the mendicant, "The

other one of these thieves seduced me, and this one made me fall

from my high rank. The other thief is dead, as for this, Ghata, I do

not love him, you are my darling." When she had said this, she united

herself to the mendicant, and killed Ghata in the dead of night. Then,

as she was journeying along with that mendicant, the wicked woman

fell in with a merchant on the way, whose name was Dhanadeva. So

she said, "Who is this skull-bearer? You are my darling," and she

left that mendicant, while he was asleep, and went off with that

merchant. And in the morning the mendicant woke up, and reflected,

"There is no love in women, and no courtesy free from fickleness,

for, after lulling me into security, the wicked woman has gone off,

and robbed me too. However, I ought perhaps to consider myself lucky,

that I have not been killed like Ghata." After these reflections,

the mendicant returned to his own country.

Story of Dhanadeva's wife.

And the princess, travelling on with the merchant, reached his

country. And when Dhanadeva arrived there, he said to himself; "Why

should I rashly introduce this unchaste woman into my house? So,

as it was evening, he went into the house of an old woman in that

place, with the princess. And at night he asked that old woman,

who did not recognize him, "Mother, do you know any tidings about

the family of Dhanadeva?" When the old woman heard that, she said,

"What tidings is there except that his wife is always ready to take

a new lover. For a basket, covered with leather, is let down every

night from the window here, and whoever enters it, is drawn up into the

house, and is dismissed in the same way at the end of the night. And

the woman is always stupefied with drink, so that she is absolutely

void of discernment. And this state of hers has become well-known

in the whole city. And though her husband has been long away, he has

not yet returned."

When Dhanadeva heard this speech of the old woman's, he went out that

moment on some pretext, and repaired to his own house, being full

of inward grief and uncertainty. And seeing a basket let down by the

female servants with ropes, he entered it, and they pulled up him into

the house. And his wife, who was stupefied with drink, embraced him

most affectionately, without knowing who he was. But he was quite cast

down at seeing her degradation. And thereupon she fell into a drunken

sleep. And at the end of the night, the female servants let him down

again quickly from the window, in the basket suspended with ropes. And

the merchant reflected in his grief, "Enough of the folly of being a

family man, for women in a house are a snare! It is always this story

with them, so a life in the forest is much to be preferred." Having

formed this resolve, Dhanadeva abandoned the princess into the bargain,

and set out for a distant forest. And on the way he met, and struck up

a friendship with, a young Bráhman, named Rudrasoma, who had lately

returned from a long absence abroad. When he told him his story,

the Bráhman became anxious about his own wife; and so he arrived in

the company of that merchant at his own village in the evening.

Story of the wife of the Bráhman Rudrasoma.

And when he arrived there, he saw a cowherd, on the bank of the river,

near his house, singing with joy, like one beside himself. So he said

to him in joke, "Cowherd, is any young woman in love with you, that you

sing thus in your rapture, counting the world as stubble?" "When the

cowherd heard that, he laughed and said, "I have a great secret. [131]

The head of this village, a Bráhman, named Rudrasoma, has been long

away, and I visit his wife every night; her maid introduces me into

the house dressed as a woman." When Rudrasoma heard this, he restrained

his anger, and wishing to find out the truth, he said to the cowherd;

"If such kindness is shewn to guests here, give me this dress of yours,

and let me go there to-night: I feel great curiosity about it." The

cowherd said, "Do so, take this black rug of mine, and this stick,

and remain here until her maid comes. And she will take you for me,

and will give you a female dress, and invite you to come, so go there

boldly at night, and I will take repose this night." When the cowherd

said this, the Bráhman Rudrasoma took from him the stick and the rug,

and stood there, personating him. And the cowherd stood at a little

distance, with that merchant Dhanadeva, and then the maid came. She

walked silently up to him in the darkness, and wrapped him up in a

woman's dress, and said to him, "Come along," and so took him off

to his wife, thinking that he was the cowherd. When his wife saw

Rudrasoma, she sprang up and embraced him, supposing that he was

the cowherd, and then Rudrasoma thought to himself; "Alas! wicked

women fall in love with a base man, if only he is near them, for this

vicious wife of mine has fallen in love with a cowherd, merely because

be is near at hand." Then he made some excuse with faltering voice,

and went, disgusted in mind, to Dhanadeva. And after he had told his

adventure in his own house, he said to that merchant; "I too will

go with you to the forest; perish my family!" So Rudrasoma and the

merchant Dhanadeva set out together for the forest.

Story of the wife of Sasin.

And on the way a friend of Dhanadeva's, named Sasin, joined them. And

in the course of conversation they told him their circumstances. And

when Sasin heard that, being a jealous man, and having just returned

from a long absence in a foreign land, he became anxious about his

wife, though he had locked her up in a cellar. And Sasin, travelling

along with them, came near his own house in the evening, and was

desirous of entertaining them. But he saw there a man singing in an

amorous mood, who had an evil smell, and whose hands and feet were

eaten away with leprosy. And in his astonishment, he asked him; "Who

are you, sir, that you are so cheerful?" And the leper said to him,

"I am the god of love." Sasin answered, "There can be no mistake

about that. The splendour of your beauty is sufficient evidence for

your being the god of love." Thereupon the leper continued, "Listen,

I will tell you something. A rogue here, named Sasin, being jealous

of his wife, locked her up in a cellar with one servant to attend on

her, and went to a foreign land. But that wife of his happened to see

me here, and immediately surrendered herself to me, her heart being

drawn towards me by love. And I spend every night with her, for the

maid takes me on her back and carries me in. So tell me if I am not

the god of love. Who, that was the favoured lover of the beautiful

wife of Sasin, could care for other women?" When Sasin heard this

speech of the leper's, he suppressed his grief, intolerable as a

hurricane, and wishing to discover the truth, he said to the leper,

"In truth you are the god of love, so I have a boon to crave of your

godship. I feel great curiosity about this lady from your description

of her, so I will go there this very night disguised as yourself. Be

propitious to your suppliant: you will lose but little, as you can

attain this object every day." When Sasin made this request, the

leper said to him; "So be it! take this dress of mine and give me

yours, and remain covering up your hands and feet with your clothes,

as you see me do, until her maid comes, which will be as soon as it

becomes dark. And she will mistake you for me, and put you on her

back, and you must submit to go there in that fashion, for I always

have to go in that way, having lost the use of my hands and feet from

leprosy." Thereupon Sasin put on the leper's dress and remained there,

but the leper and Sasin's two companions remained a little way off.

Then Sasin's wife's maid came, and supposing that he was the leper,

as he had his dress on, said, "Come along," and took him up on her

back. And so she took him at night into that cellar to his wife, who

was expecting her paramour the leper. Then Sasin made out for certain

that it was his wife, who was lamenting there in the darkness, by

feeling her limbs, and he became an ascetic on the spot. And when she

was asleep, he went out unobserved, and made his way to Dhanadeva and

Rudrasoma. And he told them his experiences, and said in his grief,

"Alas! women are like torrents that flow in a ravine, they are ever

tending downwards, capricious, beautiful at a distance, prone to

turbidness, and so they are as difficult to guard as such rivers are

to drink, and thus my wife, though kept in a cellar, has run after

a leper. So for me also the forest is the best thing. Out on family

life!" And so he spent the night in the company of the merchant and

the Bráhman, whose affliction was the same as his. And next morning

they all set out together for the forest, and at evening they reached

a tree by the roadside, with a tank at its foot. And after they had

eaten and drunk, they ascended the tree to sleep, and while they were

there, they saw a traveller come and lie down underneath the tree.

Story of the snake-god and his wife.

And soon they saw another man arise from the tank, and he brought

out of his mouth a couch and a lady. Then he lay down on the couch

beside that wife of his, and went to sleep, and the moment she saw it,

she went and embraced the traveller. And he asked her who they were,

and she answered; "This is a snake-god, and I am his wife, a daughter

of the snake race. Do not fear, I have had ninety-nine lovers among

travellers, and you make the hundredth." But, while she was saying

this, it happened that the snake-god woke up, and saw them. And he

discharged fire from his mouth, and reduced them both to ashes.

When the snake-god had gone, the three friends said to one another,

"If it is impossible to guard one's wife by enclosing her in one's

own body, what chance is there of keeping her safe in a house? Out on

them all!" So they spent the night in contentment, and next morning

went on to the forest. There they became completely chastened in

mind, with hearts quieted by practising the four meditations, [132]

which were not interfered with by their friendship, and they became

gentle to all creatures, and attained perfection in contemplation,

which produces unequalled absolute beatification; and all three in

due course destroyed the inborn darkness of their souls, and became

liberated from the necessity of future births. But their wicked

wives fell into a miserable state by the ripening of their own sin,

and were soon ruined, losing both this and the next world.

"So attachment to women, the result of infatuation, produces misery

to all men. But indifference to them produces in the discerning

emancipation from the bonds of existence."

When the prince, who was longing for union with Saktiyasas, had

patiently listened to this diverting tale, told by his minister

Gomukha, he again went to sleep.

NOTE ON THE STORY OF GHATA AND KARPARA.

The portion of the story of "the Shifty lad," which so nearly resembles

the story of Ghata and Karpara, runs as follows: The shifty lad

remarks to his master the wright, that he might get plenty from the

king's store-house which was near at hand, if only he would break into

it. The two eventually rob it together. "But the king's people missed

the butter and cheese and the other things that had been taken out

of the store-house, and they told the king how it had happened. The

king took the advice of the Seanagal about the best way of catching

the thieves, and the counsel that he gave them was, that they should

set a hogshead of soft pitch under the hole where they were coming

in. That was done, and the next day the shifty lad and his master

went to break into the king's store-house."

The consequence was that the wright was caught in the pitch. Thereupon

the shifty lad cut off his head, which he carried home and buried

in the garden. When the king's people came into the store-house,

they found a body, without a head and they could not make out whose

it was. By the advice of the Seanagal the king had the trunk carried

about from town to town by the soldiers on the points of spears. They

were directed to observe if any one cried out on seeing it. When they

were going past the house of the wright, the wright's wife made a

tortured scream, and swift the shifty lad cut himself with an adze,

and he kept saying to the wright's wife, "It is not as bad as thou

thinkest." He then tells the soldier that she is afraid of blood,

and therefore the soldier supposed that he was the wright and she his

wife. The king had the body hung up in an open place, and set soldiers

to watch if any should attempt to take it away, or show pity or grief

for it. The shifty lad drives a horse past with a keg of whisky on

each side, and pretends to be hiding it from the soldiers. They pursue

him, capture the whisky, get dead drunk, and the shifty lad carries

off and buries the wright's body. The king now lets loose a pig to

dig up the body. The soldiers follow the pig, but the wright's widow

entertains them. Meanwhile the shifty lad kills the pig and buries

it. The soldiers are then ordered to live at free quarters among the

people, and wherever they get pig's flesh, unless the people could

explain how they came by it, to make a report to the king. But the

shifty lad kills the soldiers who visit the widow, and persuades

the people to kill all the others in their sleep. The Seanagal next

advises the king to give a feast to all the people. Whoever dared

to dance with the king's daughter would be the culprit. The shifty

lad asks her to dance, she makes a black mark on him, but he puts

a similar black mark on twenty others. The king now proclaims that,

if the author of these clever tricks will reveal himself, he shall

marry his daughter. All the men with marks on them contend for

the honour. It is agreed that to whomsoever a child shall give an

apple, the king is to give his daughter. The shifty lad goes into

the room where they are all assembled, with a shaving and a drone,

and the child gives him the apple. He marries the princess, but is

killed by accident. Köhler (Orient und Occident, Vol. II, p. 303 and

ff.) compares the story of Dolopathos quoted in Loiseleur II, 123,

ed. Brunet, p. 183, a story of the Florentine Ser Giovanni, (Pecorone,

IX, 1,) an old Netherland story in Haupt's Zeitschrift für Deutsches

Alterthum 5, 385-404, called "The thief of Bruges," and a Tyrolese

story in Zingerle, Kinder- und Hausmärchen aus Süd-Deutschland, p. 300;

also a French Romance of chivalry entitled, "The knight Berinus and

his son Aigres of the Magnet mountain." There is also a story in the

Seven Wise Masters (Ellis, specimens of early English metrical romances

new ed. by Halliwell, London, 1848, p. 423) of a father and his son

breaking into the treasure-house of the emperor Octavianus. Köhler also

compares the story of Trophonius and his brother or father Agamedes

(Scholiast to Aristophanes, Nubes, 508; Pausanias, IX, 37, 3.) This

story will also be found in Simrock's Deutsche Volksbücher, Vol. XII,

p. 148. The story appears in Melusine, 1878 p. 17 under the title of

"Le Voleur Avisé, Conte Breton." See also Ralston's Tibetan Tales,

Introduction, pp. xlvii and ff.

CHAPTER LXV.

The next evening Gomukha told Naraváhanadatta this story to amuse

him as before.

Story of the ungrateful Wife. [133]

In a certain city there lived the son of a rich merchant, who was an

incarnation of a portion of a Bodhisattva. His mother died, and his

father became attached to another wife, so he sent him away; and the

son went forth from his father's house with his wife to live in the

forest. His younger brother also was banished by his father, and went

with him, but as he was not of a chastened disposition, the elder

brother parted company with him, and went in another direction. And

as he was going along, he at last came to a great desert wilderness,

without water, grass, or tree, scorched by the fierce rays of the sun,

and his supplies were exhausted. And he travelled through it for seven

days, and kept his wife, who was exhausted with hunger and thirst,

alive, by giving her his own flesh and blood, and she drank the blood

and ate the flesh. And on the eighth day he reached a mountain forest,

resounding with the surging waters of a torrent, abounding in shady

trees laden with fruit, and in delightful turf. There he refreshed

his wife with water and fruits, and went down into the mountain-stream

that was wreathed with waves, to take a bath. And there he saw a man

with his two feet and his two hands cut off, being carried along by

the current, in need of assistance. Though exhausted with his long

fast, the brave man entered the river, and rescued this mutilated

person. And the compassionate man landed him on the bank, and said;

"Who did this to you, my brother?" Then the maimed man answered,

"My enemies cut off my hands and feet, and threw me into the river,

desiring to inflict on me a painful death. But you have saved me

from the water." When the maimed man told him this, he bandaged his

wounds, and gave him food, and then the noble fellow bathed and took

food himself. Then this merchant's son, who was an incarnation of

a Bodhisattva, remained in that wood with his wife, living on roots

and fruits, and engaged in austerities.

One day, when he was away in search of fruits and roots, his wife fell

in love with that maimed man, whose wounds were healed. And determining

to kill her husband, the wicked woman devised a plot for doing so in

concert with that mutilated man, and she pretended to be ill. And she

pointed out a plant growing in the ravine, where it was difficult

to descend, and the river hard to cross, and said to her husband;

"I may live if you bring me that sovereign plant, for I am sure that

the god indicated to me its position in a dream." He consented, and

descended into the ravine to get the plant, by the help of a rope

plaited of grass and fastened to a tree. But when he had got down,

she unfastened the rope; so he fell into the river, and was swept

away by it, as its current was strong. And he was carried an enormous

distance by the river, and flung up on the bank near a certain city,

for his merits preserved his life. Then he climbed up on to the firm

ground, and rested under a tree, as he was fatigued by his immersion

in the water, and thought over the wicked behaviour of his wife. Now

it happened that at that time the king of that city had just died,

and in that country there was an immemorial custom, that an auspicious

elephant was driven about by the citizens, and any man, that he took

up with his trunk and placed on his back, was anointed king. [134]

The elephant, wandering about, came near the merchant's son, and, as

if he were Providence pleased with his self-control, took him up, and

put him on his back. Then the merchant's son, who was an incarnation

of a portion of a Bodhisattva, was immediately taken to the city and

anointed king by the people. When he had obtained the crown, he did

not associate with charming women of coquettish behaviour, but held

converse with the virtues of compassion, cheerfulness and patience.

And his wife wandered about hither and thither, carrying that

maimed man, who was her paramour, on her back, [135] without fear

of her husband, whom she supposed to have been swept away by the

river. And she begged from village to village, and city to city,

saying, "This husband of mine has had his hands and feet cut off by

his enemies; I am a devoted wife and support him by begging, so give

me alms. At last she reached the town in which that husband of hers

was king. She begged there in the same way, and, as she was honoured

by the citizens as a devoted wife the fame of her virtue reached

the ears of the king. And the king had her summoned, with the maimed

man on her back, and, when she came near, he recognized her and said;

"Are you that devoted wife?" And the wicked woman, not recognizing her

husband, when surrounded by the splendour of the kingly office, said,

"I am that devoted wife, your Majesty." Then that incarnation of a

Bodhisattva laughed, and said; "I too have had practical experience of

your wifely devotion. How comes it that, though I your own husband,

who possess hands and feet, could not tame you, even by giving you

my own flesh and blood, which you kept feeding on like an ogress in

human form, this maimed fellow, though defective in his limbs, has

been able to tame you and make you his beast of burden? Did you carry

on your back your innocent husband, whom you threw into the river? It

is owing to that deed that you have to carry and support this maimed

man." When her husband in these words revealed her past conduct, she

recognized him, and fainting from fear, became like a painted or dead

woman. The ministers in their curiosity said, "Tell us, king, what this

means." Then the king told them the whole story. And the ministers,

when they heard that she had conspired against her husband's life,

cut off her nose and ears, and branded her, and banished her from

the country with the maimed man. And in this matter Fate shewed a

becoming combination, for it united a woman without nose and ears

with a man without hands and feet, and a man who was an incarnation

of a portion of a Bodhisattva, with the splendour of royalty.

"Thus the way of woman's heart, which is a thing full of hate,

indiscriminating, prone to the base, is difficult to fathom. And

thus good fortune comes spontaneous and unexpected, as if pleased

with them, to those of noble soul, who do not swerve from virtue and

who conquer anger." When the minister Gomukha had told this tale,

he proceeded to relate the following story.

Story of the grateful animals and the ungrateful woman. [136]

There was a certain man of noble soul, who was an incarnation of

a portion of a Bodhisattva, whose heart was melted by compassion

only, who had built a hut in a forest and lived there, performing

austerities. He, while living there, by his power rescued living

beings in distress and Pisáehas, and others he gratified by presents

of water and jewels. One day, as he was roaming about in the wood to

assist others, he saw a great well and looked into it. And a woman,

who was in it, said to him in a loud voice; "Noble sir, here are

four of us; myself a woman, a lion, and a golden-crested bird, and a

snake, fallen into this well in the night; so take us out; have mercy

upon us." When he heard this, he said, "Granted that you three fell

in because the darkness made it impossible for you to see your way,

but how did the bird fall in?" The woman answered him, "It fell in by

being caught in a fowler's net." Then the ascetic tried to lift them

out by the supernatural power of his asceticism, but he could not; on

the contrary, his power was gone. He reflected, "Surely this woman is

a sinner, and owing to my having conversed with her, my power is gone

from me. So I will use other means in this case." Then he plaited a

rope of grass, and so drew them all four up out of the well, and they

praised him. And in his astonishment he said to the lion, the bird,

and the snake; "Tell me, how come you to have articulate voice, and

what is your history?" Then the lion said, "We have articulate speech

and we remember our former births, and we are mutual enemies; hear our

stories in turns." So the lion began to tell his own story as follows:

The lion's story.

There is a splendid city on the Himálayas, called Vaidúryasringa; and

in it there is a prince of the Vidyádharas named Padmavesa, and to him

a son was born named Vajravega. That Vajravega, while he dwelt in the

world of the Vidyádharas, being a vain-glorious person, quarrelled

with any body and every body, confiding in his courage. His father

ordered him to desist, but he paid no attention to his command. Then

his father cursed him, saying, "Fall into the world of mortals." Then

his arrogance was extinguished, and his knowledge left him, and

smitten with the curse he wept, and asked his father to name a time

when it should end. Then his father Padmavega thought a little, and

said immediately; "You shall become a Bráhman's son on the earth,

and display this arrogance once more, and by your father's curse you

shall become a lion and fall into a well. And a man of noble character,

out of compassion, shall draw you out, and when you have recompensed

him in his calamity, you shall be delivered from this curse." This

was the termination of the curse which his father appointed for him.

Then Vajravega was born in Málava as Devaghosha, the son of Harighosha

a Bráhman. And in that birth also he fought with many, confiding

in his heroism, and his father said to him, "Do not go on in this

way quarrelling with every body." But he would not obey his father's

orders, so his father cursed him--"Become immediately a foolish lion,

over-confident in its strength." In consequence of this speech of

his father's, Devaghosha, that incarnation of a Vidyádhara, was again

born as a lion in this forest.

"Know that I am that lion. I was wandering about here at night, and as

chance would have it, I fell into this well; and you, noble sir, have

drawn me up out of it. So now I will depart, and, if you should fall

into any difficulty, remember me; I will do you a good turn and so get

released from my curse." After the lion had said this be went away,

and the golden-crested bird, being questioned by that Bodhisattva,

told his tale.

The golden-crested bird's story.

There is on the Himálayas a king of the Vidyádharas, named

Vajradanshtra. His queen gave birth to five daughters in

succession. And then the king propitiated Siva with austerities

and obtained a son, named Rajatadanshtra, whom he valued more than

life. His father, out of affection, bestowed the knowledge of the

sciences upon him when he was still a child, and he grew up, a feast

to the eyes of his relations.

One day he saw his eldest sister, by name Somaprabhá, playing upon

a pinjara. In his childishness he kept begging for the pinjara,

saying, "Give it me, I too want to play on it." And when she would

not give it him, in his flightiness he seized the pinjara, and

flew up to heaven with it in the form of a bird. Then his sister

cursed him, saying;--"Since you have taken my pinjara from me by

force, and flown away with it, you shall become a bird with a golden

crest." When Rajatadanshtra heard this, he fell at his sister's feet,

and entreated her to fix a time for his curse to end, and she said,

"When, foolish boy, you fall, in your bird-form, into a blind well,

and a certain merciful person draws you out, and you do him a service

in return, then you shall be released from this curse." When she had

said this to her brother, he was born as a bird with a golden crest.

"I am that same golden-crested bird, that fell into this pit

in the night, and have now been drawn out by you, so now I will

depart. Remember me when you fall into calamity, for by doing you a

service in return I shall be released from my curse." When the bird

had said this, he departed. Then the snake, being questioned by that

Bodhisattva, told his story to that great-souled one.

The snake's story.

Formerly I was the son of a hermit in the hermitage of Kasyapa. And

I had a companion there who was also the son of a hermit. And one

day my friend went down into the lake to bathe, and I remained on

the bank. And while I was there, I saw a serpent come with three

heads. And, in order to terrify that friend of mine in fun, I fixed

the serpent immoveable on the bank, opposite to where he was, by the

power of a spell. My friend got through his bathing in a moment, and

came to the bank, and unexpectedly seeing that great serpent there,

he was terrified and fainted. After some time I brought my friend

round again, but he, finding out by meditation that I had terrified

him in this way, became angry, and cursed me, saying, "Go and become

a similar great snake with three crests." Then I entreated him to fix

an end to my curse, and he said,--"When, in your serpent condition,

you fall into a well, and at a critical moment do a service to the

man who pulls you out, then you shall be freed from your curse."

"After he had said this, he departed, and I became a serpent, and now

you have drawn me out of the well; so now I will depart. And when

you think of me I will come; and by doing you a service I shall be

released from my curse."

When the snake had said this, he departed, and the woman told her

story.

The woman's story.

I am the wife of a young Kshatriya in the king's employ,

a man in the bloom of youth, brave, generous, handsome, and

high-minded. Nevertheless I was wicked enough to enter into an intrigue

with another man. When my husband found it out, he determined to

punish me. And I heard of this from my confidante, and that moment

I fled, and entered this wood at night, and fell into this well,

and was dragged out by you.

"And thanks to your kindness I will now go and maintain myself

somewhere. May a day come when I shall be able to requite your

goodness."

When the sinful woman had said this to the Bodhisattva, she went to

the town of a king named Gotravardhana. She obtained an interview,

with him, and remained among his attendants, in the capacity of maid

to the king's principal queen. But because that Bodhisattva talked

with that woman, he lost his power, and could not procure fruits and

roots and things of that kind. Then, being exhausted with hunger and

thirst, he first thought of the lion. And, when he thought of him,

he came and fed him with the flesh of deer, [137] and in a short time

he restored him to his former health with their flesh; and then the

lion said, "My curse is at an end, I will depart." When he had said

this, the Bodhisattva gave him leave to depart, and the lion became

a Vidyádhara and went to his own place.

Then that incarnation of a portion of a Bodhisattva, being again

exhausted by want of food, thought upon that golden-crested bird,

and he came, when thought of by him. And when he told the bird of

his sufferings, the bird went and brought a casket full of jewels

[138] and gave it him, and said, "This wealth will support you for

ever, and so my curse has come to an end, now I depart; may you enjoy

happiness!" When he had said this, he became a young Vidyádhara prince,

and went through the air to his own world, and received the kingdom

from his father. And the Bodhisattva, as he was wandering about to

sell the jewels, reached that city, where the woman was living whom

he had rescued from the well. And he deposited those jewels in an

out-of-the-way house belonging to an old Bráhman woman, and went to the

market, and on the way he saw coming towards him the very woman whom

he had saved from the well, and the woman saw him. And the two fell

into a conversation, and in the course of it the woman told him of her

position about the person of the queen. And she asked him about his own

adventures: so the confiding man told her how the golden-crested bird

had given him the jewels. And he took her and shewed her the jewels

in the house of the old woman, and the wicked woman went and told her

mistress the queen of it. Now it happened that the golden-crested bird

had managed artfully to steal this casket of jewels from the interior

of the queen's palace, before her eyes. And when the queen heard

from the mouth of that woman, who knew the facts, that the casket

had arrived in the city, she informed the king. And the king had

the Bodhisattva pointed out by that wicked woman, and brought by his

servants as a prisoner from that house with the ornaments. And after

he had asked him the circumstances, though he believed his account,

he not only took the ornaments from him, but he put him in prison.

Then the Bodhisattva, terrified at being put in prison, thought upon

the snake, who was an incarnation of the hermit's son, and the snake

came to him. And when the snake had seen him, and enquired what his

need was, he said to the good man, "I will go and coil round the king

from his head to his feet. [139] And I will not let him go until

I am told to do so by you. And you must say here, in the prison,

'I will deliver the king from the serpent.' And when you come and

give me the order, I will let the king go. And when I let him go, he

will give you half his kingdom." After he had said this, the snake

went and coiled round the king, and placed his three hoods on his

head. And the people began to cry out, "Alas! the king is bitten by

a snake." Then the Bodhisattva said, "I will deliver the king from

this snake." And the king's servants, having heard this, informed

him. Thereupon the king, who was in the grasp of the snake, had the

Bodhisattva summoned, and said to him, "If you deliver me from this

snake, I will give you half my kingdom, and these my ministers are your

guarantees that I will keep my promise." When his ministers heard this,

they said,--"Certainly," and then the Bodhisattva said to that snake,

"Let the king go at once." Then the snake let the king go, and the

king gave half his kingdom to that Bodhisattva, and thus he became

prosperous in a moment. And the serpent, as its curse was at an end,

became a young hermit, and he told his story in the presence of the

court and went back to his hermitage.

"Thus you see that good fortune certainly befalls those of good

dispositions. And transgression brings suffering even upon the

great. And the mind of women cannot be relied upon, it is not touched

even by such a service as rescue from death; so what other benefit

can move them?" When Gomukha had told this tale, he said to the king

of Vatsa, "Listen, I will tell you some more stories of fools."

Story of the Buddhist monk who was bitten by a dog.

There was in a certain Buddhist monastery a Buddhist monk of dull

intellect. One day, as he was walking in the high road, he was bitten

by a dog on the knee. And when he had been thus bitten, he returned to

his monastery, and thus reflected,--"Every body, one after another,

will ask me, 'What has happened to your knee?' And what a time it

will take me to inform them all one by one! So I will make use of

an artifice to let them all know at once." Having thus reflected, he

quickly went to the top of the monastery, and taking the stick with

which the gong was struck, he sounded the gong. And the mendicant

monks, hearing it, came together in astonishment, and said to him,

"Why do you without cause sound the gong at the wrong time?" He

answered the mendicants, at the same time shewing them his knee,

"The fact is, a dog has bitten my knee, so I called you together,

thinking that it would take a long time for me to tell each of you

separately such a long story: so hear it all of you now, and look

at my knee." Then all the mendicants laughed till their sides ached,

and said, "What a great fuss he has made about a very small matter!"

"You have heard of the foolish Buddhist monk, now hear of the foolish

Takka."

Story of the man who submitted to be burnt alive sooner than share

his food with a guest.

There lived somewhere a rich but foolish Takka, [140] who was a

miser. And he and his wife were always eating barley-meal without

salt. And he never learned to know the taste of any other food. Once

Providence instigated him to say to his wife, "I have conceived

a desire for a milk-pudding: cook me one to-day." His wife said,

"I will," and set about cooking the pudding, and the Takka remained

in doors concealed, taking to his bed, for fear some one should see

him and drop in on him as a guest.

In the meanwhile a friend of his, a Takka who was fond of mischief,

came there, and asked his wife where her husband was. And she,

without giving an answer, went in to her husband, and told him of

the arrival of his friend. And he, lying on the bed, said to her;

"Sit down here, and remain weeping and clinging to my feet, and say

to my friend, 'My husband is dead.' [141] When he is gone, we will

eat this pudding happily together." When he gave her this order, she

began to weep, and the friend came in, and said to her, "What is the

matter?" She said to him "Look, my husband is dead." But he reflected,

"I saw her a moment ago happy enough cooking a pudding. How comes it

that her husband is now dead, though he has had no illness? The two

things are incompatible. No doubt the two have invented this fiction

because they saw I had come as a guest. So I will not go." Thereupon

the mischievous fellow sat down, and began crying out, "Alas my

friend! Alas, my friend!" Then his relations, hearing the lamentation,

came in and prepared to take that silly Takka to the burning-place,

for he still continued to counterfeit death. But his wife came to him

and whispered in his ear, "Jump up, before these relations take you

off to the pyre and burn you." But the foolish man answered his wife

in a whisper, "No! that will never do, for this cunning Takka wishes

to eat my pudding. I cannot get up, for it was on his arrival that I

died. For to people like me the contemplation of one's possessions is

dearer than life." Then that wicked friend and his relations carried

him out, but he remained immoveable, even while he was being burned,

and kept silence till he died. So the foolish man sacrificed his life

but saved his pudding, and others enjoyed at ease the wealth he had

acquired with much toil.

"You have heard the story of the miser, now hear the story of the

foolish pupils and the cat."

Story of the foolish teacher, the foolish pupils, and the cat.

In Ujjayiní there lived in a convent a foolish teacher. And he could

not sleep, because mice troubled him at night. And wearied with

this infliction, he told the whole story to a friend. The friend,

who was a Bráhman, said to that teacher, "You must set up a cat,

it will eat the mice." The teacher said, "What sort of creature is

a cat? Where can one be found? I never came across one." When the

teacher said this, the friend replied, "Its eyes are like glass,

its colour is a brownish grey, it has a hairy skin on its back, and

it wanders about in roads. So, my friend, you must quickly discover a

cat by these signs and have one brought." After his friend had said

this, he went home. Then that foolish teacher said to his pupils,

"You have been present and heard all the distinguishing marks of

a cat. So look about for a cat, such as you have heard described,

in the roads here." Accordingly the pupils went and searched hither

and thither, but they did not find a cat anywhere.

Then at last they saw a Bráhman boy coming from the opening of a road,

his eyes were like glass, his colour brownish grey, and he wore on his

back a hairy antelope-skin. And when they saw him they said, "Here we

have got the cat according to the description." So they seized him,

and took him to their teacher. Their teacher also observed that he

had got the characteristics mentioned by his friend; so he placed

him in the convent at night. And the silly boy himself believed that

he was a cat, when he heard the description that those fools gave of

the animal. Now it happened that the silly boy was a pupil of that

Bráhman, who out of friendship gave that teacher the description of

the cat. And that Bráhman came in the morning, and, seeing the boy in

the convent, said to those fools, "Who brought this fellow here?" The

teacher and his foolish pupils answered, "We brought him here as a

cat, according to the description which we heard from you." Then the

Bráhman laughed and said, "There is considerable difference between

a stupid human being, and a cat, which is an animal with four feet

and a tail." When the foolish fellows heard this, they let the boy

go and said, "So let us go and search again for a cat such as has

been now described to us." And the people laughed at those fools.

"Ignorance makes every one ridiculous. You have heard of the fools

and their cat, now hear the story of another set of fools."

Story of the fools and the bull of Siva.

There was in a certain convent, full of fools, a man who was the

greatest fool of the lot. He once heard in a treatise on law, which

was being read out, that a man, who has a tank made, gains a great

reward in the next world. Then, as he had a large fortune, he had

made a large tank full of water, at no great distance from his own

convent. One day this prince of fools went to take a look at that tank

of his, and perceived that the sand had been scratched up by some

creature. The next day too he came, and saw that the bank had been

torn up in another part of that tank, and being quite astonished,

he said to himself, "I will watch here to-morrow the whole day,

beginning in the early morning, and I will find out what creature

it is that does this." After he had formed this resolution, he came

there early next morning, and watched, until at last he saw a bull

descend from heaven and plough up the bank with its horns. He thought,

"This is a heavenly bull, so why should I not go to heaven with

it?" And he went up to the bull, and with both his hands laid hold of

the tail behind. Then the holy bull lifted up with the utmost force

the foolish man, who was clinging to its tail, and carried him in a

moment to its home in Kailása. There the foolish man lived for some

time in great comfort, feasting on heavenly dainties, sweetmeats, and

other things which he obtained. And seeing that the bull kept going

and returning, that king of fools, bewildered by destiny, thought,

"I will go down clinging to the tail of the bull and see my friends,

and after I have told them this wonderful tale, I will return in the

same way." Having formed this resolution, the fool went and clung to

the tail of the bull one day when it was setting out, and so returned

to the surface of the earth.

When he returned to the convent, the other blockheads, who were there,

embraced him, and asked him where he had been, and he told them. Then

all those foolish men, having heard the tale of his adventures,

made this petition to him; "Be kind and take us also there, enable

us also to feast on sweetmeats." He consented, and told them his plan

for doing it, and the next day he led them to the border of the tank

and the bull came there. And the principal fool seized the tail of

the bull with his two hands, and another took hold of his feet, and

a third in turn took hold of his. So, when they had formed a chain by

clinging on to one another's feet, the bull flew rapidly up into the

air. And while the bull was going along, with all the fools clinging

to his tail, it happened that one of the fools said to the principal

fool; "Tell us now, to satisfy our curiosity; how large were those

sweetmeats which you ate, of which a never-failing supply can be

obtained in heaven?" Then the leader had his attention diverted from

the business in hand, and quickly joined his hands together like the

cup of a lotus, and exclaimed in answer, "So big." But in so doing he

let go the tail of the bull. And accordingly he and all those others

fell from heaven, and were killed, and the bull returned to Kailása;

but the people, who saw it, were much amused. [142]

"Fools do themselves an injury by asking questions and giving answers

without reflection. You have heard about the fools who flew through

the air; hear about this other fool."

Story of the fool who asked his way to the village.

A certain fool, while going to another village, forgot the way. And

when he asked his way, the people said to him; "Take the path that

goes up by the tree on the bank of the river."

Then the fool went and got on the trunk of that tree, and said

to himself, "The men told me that my way lay up the trunk of this

tree." And as he went on climbing up it, the bough at the end bent

with his weight, and it was all he could do to avoid falling by

clinging to it.

While he was clinging to it, there came that way an elephant, that had

been drinking water, with his driver on his back. When the fool, who

was clinging to the tree, saw him, he said with humble voice to that

elephant-driver, "Great Sir, take me down." And the elephant-driver

let go the elephant-hook, and laid hold of the man by the feet with

both his hands, to take him down from the tree. In the meanwhile the

elephant went on, and the elephant-driver found himself clinging to the

feet of that fool, who was clinging to the end of the tree. Then the

fool said urgently to the elephant-driver, "Sing something quickly,

if you know anything, in order that the people may hear, and come

here at once to take us down. Otherwise we shall fall, and the river

will carry us away." When the elephant-driver had been thus appealed

to by him, he sang so sweetly that the fool was much pleased. And in

his desire to applaud him properly, he forgot what he was about, and

let go his hold of the tree, and prepared to clap him with both his

hands. Immediately he and the elephant-driver fell into the river and

were drowned, for association with fools brings prosperity to no man.

After Gomukha had told this story, he went on to tell that of

Hiranyáksha.

Story of Hiranyáksha and Mrigánkalekhá.

There is in the lap of the Himálayas a country called Kasmíra,

which is the very crest-jewel of the earth, the home of sciences and

virtue. In it there was a town, named Hiranyapura, and there reigned

in it a king, named Kanakáksha. And there was born to that king,

owing to his having propitiated Siva, a son, named Hiranyáksha,

by his wife Ratnaprabhá. The prince was one day playing at ball,

and he purposely managed to strike with the ball a female ascetic

who came that way. That female ascetic possessing supernatural

powers, who had overcome the passion of anger, laughed and said

to Hiranyáksha, without altering the expression of her face, [143]

"If your youth and other qualities make you so insolent, what will

you become if you obtain Mrigánkalekhá for a wife." [144] When the

prince heard that, he propitiated the female ascetic and said to her;

"Who is this Mrigánkalekhá? tell me, reverend madam." Then she said to

him, "There is a glorious king of the Vidyádharas on the Himálayas,

named Sasitejas. He has a beautiful daughter, named Mrigánkalekhá,

whose loveliness keeps the princes of the Vidyádharas awake at

night. And she will be a fitting wife for you, and you will be a

suitable husband for her." When the female ascetic, who possessed

supernatural power, said this to Hiranyáksha, he replied, "Tell me,

reverend mother, how she is to be obtained." Thereupon she said,

"I will go and find out how she is affected towards you, by talking

about you. And then I will come and take you there. And you will find

me to-morrow in the temple of the god here, named Amaresa, for I come

here every day to worship him." After the female ascetic had said this,

she went through the air by her supernatural power to the Himálayas,

to visit that Mrigánkalekhá. Then she praised to her so artfully

the good qualities of Hiranyáksha, that the celestial maiden became

very much in love with him, and said to her, "If, reverend mother,

I cannot manage to obtain a husband of this kind, of what use to me

is this my purposeless life?" So the emotion of love was produced in

Mrigánkalekhá, and she spent the day in talking about him, and passed

the night with that female ascetic. In the meanwhile Hiranyáksha spent

the day in thinking of her, and with difficulty slept at night, but

towards the end of the night Párvatí said to him in a dream, "Thou

art a Vidyádhara, become a mortal by the curse of a hermit, and thou

shalt be delivered from it by the touch of the hand of this female

ascetic, and then thou shalt quickly marry this Mrigánkalekhá. Do not

be anxious about it, for she was thy wife in a former state." Having

said this, the goddess disappeared from his sight. And in the morning

the prince woke and rose up, and performed the auspicious ceremonies

of bathing and so on. Then he went and adored Amaresa and stood in

his presence, since it was there that the female ascetic had appointed

him a rendezvous.

In the meanwhile Mrigánkalekhá fell asleep with difficulty in her

own palace, and Párvatí said to her in a dream, "Do not grieve,

the curse of Hiranyáksha is at an end, and he will again become a

Vidyádhara by the touch of the hand of the female ascetic, and thou

shalt have him once more for a husband." When the goddess had said

this, she disappeared, and in the morning Mrigánkalekhá woke up and

told the female ascetic her dream. And the holy ascetic returned

to the earth, and said to Hiranyáksha, who was in the temenos of

Amaresa, "Come to the world of Vidyádharas." When she said this,

he bent before her, and she took him up in her arms, and flew up

with him to heaven. Then Hiranyáksha's curse came to an end, and

he became a prince of the Vidyádharas, and he remembered his former

birth, and said to the female ascetic, "Know that I was a king of the

Vidyádharas named Amritatejas in a city named Vajrakúta. And long ago I

was cursed by a hermit, angry because I had treated him with neglect,

and I was doomed to live in the world of mortals until touched by

your hand. And my wife, who then abandoned the body because I had

been cursed, has now been born again as Mrigánkalekhá, and so has

before been loved by me. And now I will go with you and obtain her

once more, for I have been purified by the touch of your hand, and

my curse is at an end." So said Amritatejas, the Vidyádhara prince,

as he travelled through the air with that female ascetic to the

Himálayas. There he saw Mrigánkalekhá in a garden, and she saw him

coming, as he had been described by the female ascetic. Wonderful to

say, these lovers first entered one another's minds by the ears, and

now they entered them by the eyes, without ever having gone out again.

Then that outspoken female ascetic said to Mrigánkalekhá, "Tell this

to your father with a view to your marriage." She instantly went,

with a face downcast from modesty, and informed her father of all

through her confidante. And it happened that her father also had been

told how to act by Párvatí in a dream, so he received Amritatejas

into his palace with all due honour. And he bestowed Mrigánkalekhá

on him with the prescribed ceremonies, and after he was married, he

went to the city of Vajrakúta. There he got back his kingdom as well

as his wife, and he had his father Kanakáksha brought there, by means

of the holy female ascetic, as he was a mortal, and he gratified him

with heavenly enjoyments and sent him back again to earth, and long

enjoyed his prosperity with Mrigánkalekhá.