The Kathá Sarit Ságara; or, Ocean of the Streams of Story
instantly cry out, "Desheal," which is an ejaculation praying it may
go by the right way." Cp. the note in Munro's Lucretius on V, 1199, and
Burton's Narratives from Criminal Trials in Scotland, Vol. I, p. 278.
BOOK III.
CHAPTER XV.
Honour to that conqueror of obstacles whose favour, I ween, even the
Creator [199] implored, in order that he might accomplish the creation
of the world without let or hindrance.
That five-arrowed god of love conquers the world, at whose command
even Siva trembles, when he is being embraced by his beloved.
Thus having obtained Vásavadattá, that king of Vatsa gradually became
most exclusively devoted to the pleasure of her society. But his prime
minister Yaugandharáyana, and his general Rumanvat, upheld day and
night the burden of his empire. And once upon a time the minister
Yaugandharáyana, full of anxiety, brought Rumanvat to his house at
night and said to him as follows: "This lord of Vatsa is sprung from
the Pándava race, and the whole earth is his by hereditary descent,
as also the city named of the elephant. [200] All these this king has
abandoned not being desirous of making conquests, and his kingdom
has so become confined to this one small corner of the earth. For
he certainly remains devoted to women, wine and hunting, and he has
delegated to us all the duty of thinking about his kingdom. So we by
our own intelligence must take such steps, as that he shall obtain
the empire of the whole earth, which is his hereditary right. For,
if we do this, we shall have exhibited devotion to his cause, and
performed our duty as ministers; for every thing is accomplished by
intellect, and in proof of this listen to the following tale:"
Story of the clever physician.
Once on a time there was a king named Mahásena, and he was attacked by
another king far superior to him in power. Then the king's ministers
met together, and in order to prevent the ruin of his interests,
Mahásena was persuaded by them to pay tribute to that enemy. And after
he had paid tribute, that haughty king was exceedingly afflicted,
thinking to himself, "Why have I made submission to my enemy?" And
his sorrow on that account caused an abscess to form in his vitals,
and he was so pulled down by the abscess that at last he was at the
point of death. Then a certain wise physician considering that that
case could not be cured by medicine, said falsely to that king; "O
king, your wife is dead." When he heard that, the king suddenly fell
on the ground, and owing to the excessive violence of his grief, the
abscess burst of itself. And so the king recovered from his disease,
and long enjoyed in the society of that queen the pleasures he desired,
and conquered his enemies in his turn. [201]
"So, as that physician did his king a good turn by his wisdom, let us
also do our king a good turn, let us gain for him the empire of the
earth. And in this undertaking our only adversary is Pradyota, the
king of Magadha; for he is a foe in the rear that is always attacking
us behind. So we must ask for our sovereign that pearl of princesses,
his daughter, named Padmávatí. And by our cleverness we will conceal
Vásavadattá somewhere, and setting fire to her house, we will give
out everywhere that the queen is burnt. For in no other case will
the king of Magadha give his daughter to our sovereign, for when I
requested him to do so on a former occasion, he answered--'I will not
give my daughter, whom I love more than myself, to the king of Vatsa,
for he is passionately attached to his wife Vásavadattá.' Moreover,
as long as the queen is alive, the king of Vatsa will not marry any
one else; but if a report is once spread that the queen is burnt,
all will succeed. And when Padmávatí is secured, the king of Magadha
will be our marriage connection, and will not attack us in the rear,
but will become our ally. Then we will march to conquer the eastern
quarter, and the others in due succession, so we shall obtain for
the king of Vatsa all this earth. And if we only exert ourselves,
this king will obtain the dominion of the earth, for long ago a
divine voice predicted this." When Rumanvat heard this speech from
the great minister Yaugandharáyana, he feared that the plan would
cover them with ridicule, and so he said to him--"Deception practised
for the sake of Padmávatí might some day be to the ruin of us both;"
in proof of this, listen to the following tale:
Story of the hypocritical ascetic.
On the bank of the Ganges there is a city named Mákandiká; in that city
long ago there was a certain ascetic who observed a vow of silence,
and he lived on alms, and surrounded by numerous other holy beggars,
dwelt in a monastery within the precincts of a god's temple where he
had taken up his abode. Once, when he entered a certain merchant's
house to beg, he saw a beautiful maiden coming out with alms in her
hand, and the rascal seeing that she was wonderfully beautiful was
smitten with love and exclaimed "Ah! Ah! Alas!" And that merchant
overheard him. Then taking the alms he had received, he departed to
his own house; and then the merchant went there and said to him in
his astonishment,--"Why did you to-day suddenly break your vow of
silence and say what you did?" When he heard that, the ascetic said
to the merchant--"This daughter of yours has inauspicious marks; when
she marries, you will undoubtedly perish, wife, sons, and all. So,
when I saw her, I was afflicted, for you are my devoted adherent;
and thus it was on your account that I broke silence and said what I
did. So place this daughter of yours by night in a basket, on the top
of which there must be a light, and set her adrift on the Ganges." The
merchant said, "So I will," and went away, and at night he did all
he had been directed to do out of pure fear. The timid are ever
unreflecting. The hermit for his part said at that time to his own
pupils, "Go to the Ganges, and when you see a basket floating along
with a light on the top of it, bring it here secretly, but you must not
open it, even if you hear a noise inside." They said, "We will do so,"
and off they went; but before they reached the Ganges, strange to say,
a certain prince went into the river to bathe. He seeing that basket,
which the merchant had thrown in, by the help of the light on it,
got his servants to fetch it for him, and immediately opened it out
of curiosity. And in it he saw that heart-enchanting girl, and he
married her on the spot by the Gándharva ceremony of marriage. And he
set the basket adrift on the Ganges, exactly as it was before, putting
a lamp on the top of it, and placing a fierce monkey inside it. The
prince having departed with that pearl of maidens, the pupils of the
hermit came there in the course of their search, and saw that basket,
and took it up and carried it to the hermit. Then he being delighted,
said to them, "I will take this upstairs and perform incantations with
it alone, but you must lie in silence this night." When he had said
this, the ascetic took the basket to the top of the monastery, and
opened it, eager to behold the merchant's daughter. And then a monkey
of terrible appearance sprang out of it, [202] and rushed upon the
ascetic, like his own immoral conduct incarnate in bodily form. The
monkey in its fury immediately tore off with its teeth the nose of
the wicked ascetic, and his ears with its claws, as if it had been
a skilful executioner; and in that state the ascetic ran downstairs,
and when his pupils beheld him, they could with difficulty suppress
their laughter. And early next morning everybody heard the story,
and laughed heartily, but the merchant was delighted, and his daughter
also, as she had obtained a good husband. And even as the ascetic made
himself ridiculous, so too may we possibly become a laughing-stock,
if we employ deceit, and fail after all. For the separation of the
king from Vásavadattá involves many disadvantages. When Rumanvat had
said this to Yaugandharáyana, the latter answered; "In no other way
can we conduct our enterprise successfully, and if we do not undertake
the enterprise, it is certain that with this self-indulgent king we
shall lose even what territory we have got; and the reputation which
we have acquired for statesmanship will be tarnished, and we shall
cease to be spoken of as men who shew loyalty to their sovereign. For
when a king is one who depends on himself for success, his ministers
are considered merely the instruments of his wisdom; and in the case
of such monarchs you would not have much to do with their success
or failures. But when a king depends on his ministers for success,
it is their wisdom that achieves his ends, and if they are wanting in
enterprise, he must bid a long farewell to all hope of greatness. [203]
But if you fear the queen's father Chandamahásena, I must tell you that
he and his son and the queen also will do whatever I bid them." When
Yaugandharáyana, most resolute among the resolute, had said this,
Rumanvat, whose heart dreaded some fatal blunder, again said to him;
"Even a discerning prince is afflicted by the pain of being separated
from a beloved woman, much more will this king of Vatsa be. In proof
of what I say, listen to the following tale:"
Story of Unmádiní. [204]
Once on a time there was a king named Devasena, best of wise men,
and the city of Srávastí was his capital. And in that city there was a
wealthy merchant, and to him there was born a daughter of unparalleled
beauty. And that daughter became known by the name of Unmádiní,
because every one, who beheld her beauty, became mad. Her father the
merchant thought, "I must not give this daughter of mine to any one
without telling the king, or he may be angry." So he went and said
to the king Devasena, "King, I have a daughter who is a very pearl,
take her if she finds favour in your eyes." When he heard that, the
king sent some Bráhmans, his confidential ministers, saying to them,
"Go and see if that maiden possesses the auspicious marks or not." The
ministers said, "We will do so," and went. But when they beheld that
merchant's daughter, Unmádiní, love was suddenly produced in their
souls, and they became utterly bewildered. When they recovered their
senses, the Bráhmans said to one another: "If the king marries this
maiden, he will think only of her, and will neglect the affairs of
the State, and everything will go to rack and ruin; so what is the
good of her?" Accordingly they went and told the king, what was not
true, that the maiden had inauspicious marks. Then the merchant gave
that Unmádiní, whom the king had refused, and who in her heart felt
a proud resentment at it, to the king's commander-in-chief. When she
was in the house of her husband, she ascended one day to the roof, and
exhibited herself to the king, who she knew would pass that way. And
the moment the king beheld her, resembling a world-bewildering drug
employed by the god of love, distraction seemed to be produced within
him. When he returned to his palace, and discovered that it was the
same lady he had previously rejected, he was full of regret, and fell
violently ill with fever; the commander-in-chief, the husband of the
lady, came to him and earnestly entreated him to take her, saying, "She
is a slave, she is not the lawful wife of another, or if it seem fit,
I will repudiate her in the temple, then my lord can take her for his
own." But the king said to him, "I will not take unto myself another
man's wife, and if you repudiate her, your righteousness will be at
end, and you will deserve punishment at my hands." When they heard
that, the other ministers remained silent, and the king was gradually
consumed by love's burning fever, and so died. So that king perished,