‘The man is an idiot, so have no fears.’
“Grumbling still, the old and prudent minister said--
‘The beggar may rise to royal degree,
The monarch descend to beggary.’
“One day a Brahmin came to the palace, and offered to teach the king
various magical arts. The monarch agreed with delight, and for a small sum
of money acquired power to send his soul from his own body into any
disengaged carcass that he wished to vivify. The hunchback was in the room
when the king learned his lesson.
“A few days after, Mukunda and his fool were riding in the forest, when
they lit on the corpse of a Brahmin who had died of thirst. Here was an
opportunity for the king to practise what he had learned. But first he
asked the hunchback if he had given attention to the instruction of the
Brahmin. The fool replied that he never bothered his head with the
pedantry of professors. The king, satisfied with the answer, pronounced
the magical words. Down fell his body, senseless, and his soul animating
the corpse, the dead Brahmin sat up and opened his eyes. Instantly the
crafty hunchback repeated the incantation, and took possession of the
carcass of his majesty, mounted the king’s horse, and rode off to Liavati,
where he was received by the courtiers, the servants, the ministers, and
the queen as if he were the true Mukunda, whilst the real monarch, in the
shape of a begging Brahmin, roved the forests and the villages, cursing
his folly, half starved on the scanty charity of the faithful.
“Suspicions that all was not right forced their way into the queen’s mind,
and she mentioned her doubts to the minister.
‘Far flies rumour with three pairs of ears,’
said he, addressing the false king, who shrugged his shoulders, and
laughed. Again the minister tried him with--
‘The beggar may rise to royal degree,’
and received a peremptory order to be silent as he valued his head.
“‘He is not the king,’ said the minister to the queen. ‘We must find the
true Mukunda, wherever he may be.’
“In order to effect this, to every one whom the vizier addressed he
uttered the two half-verses--
‘Far flies rumour with three pairs of ears,’
and
‘The beggar may rise to royal degree,’
but with no results. One evening, however, as he was walking home, deep in
thought, a poor Brahmin clamoured for alms. The minister made no answer;
but when the pauper continued his importunities, he said, sharply,--
‘Far flies rumour with three pairs of ears’;
to which the Brahmin promptly answered--
‘The man is an idiot, so have no fears.’
“Hearing this, the old man was arrested by his interest. He hastily
continued--
‘The beggar may rise to royal degree’;
and the Brahmin responded without hesitation--
‘The monarch descend to beggary.’
“The minister caught him at once by the hand, and insisted on hearing his
story. No sooner was he made aware of what had been done by the hunchback,
than he hastened to the palace, where he found the queen bathed in tears
over a favourite parrot, which lay dead on her lap. The old man concerted
with her a plan for the destruction of the hunchback and the restoration
of the true king; then he secretly introduced the transformed Mukunda into
the chamber, and summoned the false king.
“‘O sire,’ said the queen, ‘if you love me restore my pretty parrot to
life.’
“‘That is easily effected,’ answered the fool.
“In an instant his body fell rigid, and his soul entered the bird, which
sat up, plumed its feathers, and began to chatter. At the same moment the
true Mukunda pronounced the magic words, dropped his adopted body, and
darted into that which had originally been his. At the sight of the
reviving monarch, the queen wrung the parrot’s neck, and thus destroyed
the impostor.”
This story is based on the great Buddhist doctrine of the transmigration
of souls, and was evidently a very popular illustration of that
fundamental dogma, for variations of it are common in most ancient
Sanscrit collections. Thus in the _Katha Sarit Sagara_, a work of Soma
Deva, written between A.D. 1113-1125, the story reappears considerably
altered, but still told with the design of insisting on the doctrine of
transmigration of souls. Soma Deva’s tale is this in brief:--
Vararutschi, Vyâdi, and Indradatta desired to learn the new lessons of
Varscha, but could not pay the stipulated fee--a million pieces of gold.
They determined to ask King Nanda--a contemporary of Alexander the Great,
by the way--to pay it for them, and they visited his capital. They are too
late: Nanda is just dead. However, determined to obtain the requisite sum,
Indradatta leaves his body in a wood, guarded by his companions, and sends
his soul into the dead king. Then Vararutschi goes to him, asks, and
receives the gold, whilst Vyâdi sits beside the deserted body.
But the prime minister suspected that the revived master was not quite
identical with the deceased master. Indeed, King Nanda now exhibited an
intelligence and vigour which had been sadly deficient before. The
minister knew that the heir to the throne was but a child, and that he had
powerful enemies. He therefore formed the resolution of keeping the false
king on the throne till the heir was of age to govern. To effect his
purpose, he issued orders that every corpse in the kingdom should be
burnt. Amongst the rest was consumed that of Indradatta, and the Brahmin
found himself, with horror, obliged to remain in the body of a Sudra,
though that Sudra was a king.
There is another story, similar to that in the _Pantschatantra_, told of
Tschandragupta, the founder of the Maurya dynasty, and one of the most
renowned of the ancient Indian kings. But, indeed, the variations
occurring in the ancient Sanscrit Buddhist tales are very numerous.
From India the story travelled into Persia--when, is not known; but it was
probably there long before A.D. 540 when the Persian translation of the
_Pantschatantra_ was made. In Persian it occurs in the _Bahar Danush_, and
in the version of the _Çukasaptati_. It is in the Turkish _Tûtînâmeh_. It
is in the famous _Arabian Nights_, as the story of the Prince Fadl-Allah.
It is also in the Mongolian _Vikramacarita_. But, though it was translated
with small variations from the Sanscrit in these works, popularly the
story had gone through great adaptations and alterations to suit creeds
which did not believe in the transmigration of souls.
When it was made known to the Jews is not certain; probably at the
captivity. Yet there are passages in the Psalms, and especially in the
song of Hannah, which bear a striking resemblance to the verses of the
prime minister, and seem almost like an allusion to the fable. Thus, “The
Lord maketh poor, and maketh rich: he bringeth low, and lifteth up. He
raiseth up the poor out of the dust, and lifteth up the beggar from the
dunghill, to set them among princes, and to make them inherit the throne
of glory.” This may be a reference or it may not. The sentiment is not
unlikely to have been uttered without knowledge of the Indian fable; but
if Hannah had been acquainted with it, no doubt to it allusion was made.
It is certain, however, that the story did popularise itself among the
Jews, and when it did so, it was in a form adapted to their belief, which
had nothing in common with metempsychosis. And it is exceedingly probable
that they derived it from Persia, for one of the actors in the tale,
Asmodeus, is the Zoroastrian Aêshma. The story is found in the _Talmud_
and is as follows:--
“King Solomon, having completed the temple and his house, was lifted up
with pride of heart, and regarded himself as the greatest of kings. Every
day he was wont to bathe, and before entering the water, he entrusted his
ring, wherein lay his power, to one of his wives. One day the evil
spirit, Asmodeus, stole the ring, and, assuming Solomon’s form, drove the
naked king from the bath into the streets of Jerusalem. The wretched man
wandered about his city scorned by all; then he fled into distant lands,
none recognising in him the great and wise monarch. In the meanwhile the
evil spirit reigned in his stead, but unable to bear on his finger the
ring graven with the Incommunicable Name, he cast it into the sea.
Solomon, returning from his wanderings, became scullion in the palace. One
day a fisher brought him a fish for the king. On opening it, he found in
its belly the ring he had lost. At once regaining his power, he drove
Asmodeus into banishment, and, a humbled and better man, reigned
gloriously on the throne of his father David” (_Talmud_, Gittim, fol. 68).