Volume 2 / Book 10 — 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.

There was in a certain village a Bráhman, named Devaśarman; 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 Devaśarman 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 Devaśarman returning at a distance, and delighted, ran out to meet him, all stained with the blood of the snake. And Devaśarman, 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.”

There were in a certain city two thieves, named Ghaṭa and Karpara. One night Karpara left Ghaṭa 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 Ghaṭa 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 Ghaṭa came to look for him, as he had not returned in the course of the night. Then Karpara saw Ghaṭa, 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 Ghaṭa 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.

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, Ghaṭa, I do not love him, you are my darling.” When she had said this, she united herself to the mendicant, and killed Ghaṭa 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 Ghaṭa.” 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.

Story of the wife of Śaśin.

And on the way a friend of Dhanadeva’s, named Śaśin, joined them. And in the course of conversation they told him their circumstances. And when Śaśin 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 Śaśin, 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.” Śaśin 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 Śaśin, 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 Śaśin, could care for other women?” When Śaśin 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 Śaśin 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 Śaśin put on the leper’s dress and remained there, but the leper and Śaśin’s two companions remained a little way off.

Then Śaśin’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 Śaśin 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.

“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 Śaktiyaśas, had patiently listened to this diverting tale, told by his minister Gomukha, he again went to sleep.

Note on the Story of Ghaṭa and Karpara.

The portion of the story of “the Shifty lad,” which so nearly resembles the story of Ghaṭa 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.

(1) Everything is momentary and momentary only:

(2) Everything is pain and pain only:

(3) Everything is individual and individual only:

(4) Everything is baseless and baseless only.”