The Kathá Sarit Ságara; or, Ocean of the Streams of Story
had her husband bound as having injured his wife. But even while he
was being bound, he remained speechless, like a dumb man, and said
nothing, for all the listeners, his father-in-law and the others,
had altogether turned against him. [292]
When the thief had seen all this, he slipped away nimbly, and
the night, which was spent in tumult, gradually passed away, and
then the merchant's son was taken by his father-in-law to the king,
together with his wife who had been deprived of her nose. And the king,
after he had been informed by them of the circumstances, ordered the
execution of the young merchant, on the ground that he had maimed his
own wife, rejecting with contempt his version of the story. Then,
as he was being led to the place of execution, with drums beating,
the thief came up to the king's officers and said to them, "You ought
not to put this man to death without cause; I know the circumstances,
take me to the king, that I may tell him the whole story." When the
thief said this, they took him to the king, and after he had received
a promise of pardon, he told him the whole history of the night from
the beginning. And he said, "If your Majesty does not believe my
words, look at once at the woman's nose, which is in the mouth of
that corpse." When the king heard that, he sent servants to look,
and finding that the statement was true, he gave orders that the
young merchant should not suffer capital punishment. But he banished
his wicked wife from the country, after cutting off her ears also,
and punished his father-in-law by confiscating all his wealth, and
being pleased with the thief, he made him chief magistrate of the city.
"So you see that females are naturally wicked and treacherous." When
the parrot had told this tale, the curse imposed on him by Indra
lost its force, and he became once more the Gandharva Chitraratha,
and assuming a celestial form, he went to heaven. And at the same
moment the maina's curse came to an end, and she became the heavenly
nymph Tilottamá, and went at once to heaven. And so their dispute
remained undecided in the judgment-hall.
When the Vetála had told this tale, he again said to the king, "So
let your Majesty decide, which are the worst, males or females. But
if you know and do not say, your head shall split in pieces."
When the king was asked this question by the Vetála, that was on
his shoulder, he said to him, "Chief of magicians, women are the
worst. For it is possible that once in a way a man may be so wicked,
but females are, as a rule, always such everywhere." When the king
said this, the Vetála disappeared, as before, from his shoulder,
and the king once more resumed the task of fetching him.
NOTE.
Oesterley tells us that in the Vetála Cadai the two stories are told
by two parrots, and the same is the case in the Turkish Tútínámah,
Rosen, 2, p. 92.
The 1st story is found in the Turkish Tútínámah. The principal
difference is that the parents of the extravagant man die after his
first crime; after he has spent his property, he begs in a cemetery,
and is there recognized by his wife; they live some time together, and
then set out to return to his house. On the way they pass the old well,
and there he murders her. There are some similar points in the 11th
story of the Siddhikür. [See Sagas from the Far East, pp. 120-125.]
The second story is found in Babington's Vetála Cadai, p. 44. The
lover receives a mortal wound, being taken for a thief, and in the
agony of death bites off the nose of the adulteress. She smears
her husband's betel-knife with the blood, and accuses him of the
murder. The city-guards clear the matter up.
The 2nd story is found in a very different form in the
Siddhikür, No. 10; in Jülg, p. 100. [See Sagas from The Far East,
pp. 115-119.] Here a younger brother is not invited to supper by an
elder, so he determines to rob him out of revenge. He observes his
brother's wife go to a cemetery to see her dead lover, who, when she
tries to feed him by force, bites off her nose and the tip of her
tongue. Of course when she accuses her husband, the younger brother
reveals the secret.
The story in the Turkish Tútínámah, Rosen, 2, p. 96, Wickerhauser,
p. 212, closely resembles Somadeva's. The lovers are surprised by the
city-guards, who crucify the man, and let the woman go. The man in
the agony of death bites her nose off, and she accuses her husband
of the deed; he is then condemned to lose his nose. But a thief,
who has crept into the house, and has then followed the adulteress,
reveals the secret, and the woman is thereupon drowned. The story
in the Panchatantra, Benfey, II, p. 40, only resembles this in its
conclusion. [See Johnson's Hitopadesa, p. 85.] It is no doubt a clever
adaptation of the end of this story. The tale has been traced through
all its migrations by Benfey, Vol. I, p. 140. (Oesterley's Baitál
Pachísí, pp. 187-191.)
CHAPTER LXXVIII.
(Vetála 4.)
Then king Trivikramasena again went at night to that asoka-tree in the
cemetery: and he fearlessly took that Vetála that was in the corpse,
though it uttered a horrible laugh, and placed it on his shoulder,
and set out in silence. And as he was going along, the Vetála, that
was on his shoulder, said to him again, "King, why do you take all
this trouble for the sake of this wicked mendicant? In truth you show
no discrimination in taking all this fruitless labour. So hear from
me this story to amuse you on the way."
Story of Víravara.
There is a city on the earth rightly named Sobhávatí. In it there lived
a king of great valour, called Súdraka. The fire of that victorious
king's might was perpetually fanned by the wind of the chowries waved
by the captured wives of his enemies. I ween that the earth was so
glorious during the reign of that king, owing to the uninterrupted
practice of righteousness that prevailed, that she forgot all her
other sovereigns, even Ráma.
Once on a time a Bráhman, of the name of Víravara, came from
Málava to take service under that king who loved heroes. His wife's
name was Dharmavatí, his son was Sattvavara, and his daughter was
Víravatí. These three composed his family; and his attendants were
another three, at his side a dagger, a sword in one hand, and a
splendid shield in the other. Although he had so small a retinue, he
demanded from the king five hundred dínárs a day by way of salary. And
king Súdraka, perceiving that his appearance indicated great courage,
gave him the salary he desired. But he felt curious to know whether,
as his retinue was so small, he employed so many gold coins to feed his
vices, or lavished them on some worthy object. So he had him secretly
dogged by spies, in order to discover his mode of life. And it turned
out that every day Víravara had an interview with the king in the
morning, and stood at his palace-gate in the middle of the day,
sword in hand; and then he went home and put into the hand of his
wife a hundred dínárs of his salary for food, and with a hundred he
bought clothes, unguents and betel; and after bathing, he set apart
a hundred for the worship of Vishnu and Siva; and he gave two hundred
by way of charity to poor Bráhmans. This was the distribution which he
made of the five hundred every day. Then he fed the sacrificial fire
with clarified butter and performed other ceremonies, and took food,
and then he again went and kept guard at the gate of the palace alone
at night, sword in hand. When the king Súdraka heard from his spies,
that Víravara always followed this righteous custom, he rejoiced
in his heart; and he ordered those spies, who had dogged his path,
to desist; and he considered him worthy of especial honour as a
distinguished hero.
Then in course of time, after Víravara had easily tided through the
hot weather, when the rays of the sun were exceedingly powerful, the
monsoon came roaring, bearing a brandished sword of lightning, as if
out of envy against Víravara, and smiting [293] with rain-drops. And
though at that time a terrible bank of clouds poured down rain day
and night, Víravara remained motionless, as before, at the gate of
the palace. And king Súdraka, having beheld him in the day from
the top of his palace, again went up to it at night, to find out
whether he was there or not; and he cried out from it,--"Who waits
there at the palace-gate?" When Víravara heard that, he answered,
"I am here, your Majesty." Then king Súdraka thought to himself,
"Ah! Víravara is a man of intrepid courage and devotedly attached
to me. So I must certainly promote him to an important post." After
the king had said this to himself, he came down from the roof of his
palace, and entering his private apartments, went to bed.
And the next evening, when a cloud was violently raining with a heavy
downfall, and black darkness was spread abroad, obscuring the heaven,
[294] the king once more ascended the roof of the palace to satisfy
his curiosity, and being alone, he cried out in a clear voice,
"Who waits there at the palace-gate?" Again Víravara said, "I am
here." And while the king was lost in admiration at seeing his courage,
he suddenly heard a woman weeping in the distance, distracted with
despair, uttering only the piteous sound of wailing. When the king
heard that, pity arose in his mind, and he said to himself, "There
is no oppressed person in my kingdom, no poor or afflicted person;
so who is this woman, that is thus weeping alone at night?" Then he
gave this order to Víravara, who was alone below, "Listen, Víravara;
there is some woman weeping in the distance; go and find out who she
is and why she is weeping."
When Víravara heard that, he said, "I will do so," and set out thence
with his dagger in his belt, and his sword in his hand. He looked
upon the world as a Rákshasa black with fresh clouds, having the
lightning flashing from them by way of an eye, raining large drops of
rain instead of stones. And king Súdraka, seeing him starting alone
on such a night, and being penetrated with pity and curiosity, came
down from the top of the palace, and taking his sword, set out close
behind him, alone and unobserved. And Víravara went on persistently in
the direction of the weeping, and reached a tank outside the city, and
saw there that woman in the middle of the water uttering this lament,
"Hero! merciful man! Generous man! How can I live without you?" And
Víravara, who was followed by the king, said with astonishment,
"Who are you, and why do you thus weep?"--Then she answered him,
"Dear Víravara, know that I am this earth, and king Súdraka is now
my righteous lord, but on the third day from this his death will take
place, and whence shall I obtain such another lord? So I am grieved,
and bewail both him and myself." [295] When Víravara heard this,
he said, like one alarmed, "Is there then, goddess, any expedient
to prevent the death of this king, who is the protecting amulet of
the world?"
When the earth heard this, she answered, "There is one expedient
for averting it, and one which you alone can employ." Then Víravara
said,--"Then, goddess, tell it me at once, in order that I may quickly
put it in operation: otherwise what is the use of my life?" When the
earth heard this, she said,--"Who is as brave as you, and as devoted
to his master? So hear this method of bringing about his welfare. If
you offer up your child Sattvavara to this glorious goddess Chandí,
famous for her exceeding readiness to manifest herself to her votaries,
to whom the king has built a temple [296] in the immediate vicinity of
his palace, the king will not die, but live another hundred years. And
if you do it at once, his safety will be ensured, but if not, he will
assuredly have ceased to live on the third day from this time."