When the Vetála heard this speech of the king's, he again rapidly quitted his shoulder by the might of his delusive power, and returned to his own place; and the king followed him swiftly, as before, to recover him: for how can great men leave off in the middle of an enterprise, which they have begun, even though it be very difficult?
Note.
Oesterley states that this tale is No. 26, in the Persian Tútínámah, in Iken, p. 109. The deliberations about carrying off the wife of the commander-in-chief are, in this form of the story, carried on in the presence of the counsellors only; and the king is the only one that dies. From the Persian Tútínámah the story has passed in a very eimikr form into the Turkish Tútínámah. Compare Malespiní, 1, No. 102, (Oesterley's Baitál Pachísí, pp. 207, 208.) The story, as told by Sivadása, will be found in Bezzenberger's Beiträge zur Kunde der Indo-germanischen Sprachen, Vol. IV, p. 360, Dr. Zachariæ, the author of the paper, gives a reference to the Rajataranginí, IV, 17- 37, which Professor Bühler pointed out to him. He tells us that the story is the 14th in Jambhaladatta's recension. The story is also found in the parables of Buddhaghosha; in a form based upon the Ummadantíjátaka. Dr. Zachariæ gives the Pali text of this Játaka in an Appendix, and the corresponding Sanskrit version of the tale from the Játakamálá of Aryaśúra. He also refers his readers to Upham's Mahávanso, pp. 212-213; Beal, Texts from the Buddhist canon, commonly known as Dhammapada, Section XXIII, Advantageous Service; Bigandet, The life or legend of Gaudama, the Buddha of the Burmese, pp. 220-221; and Mary Summer, Histoire du Bouddha Sákya-Mouni, (Paris, 1874,) p. 145.
In the Pali version the Bráhmans are so bewildered at the sight of the girl that they cannot eat, but put their rice on their heads &c. instead of putting it in their mouths; so she has them driven out by her servants. Out of revenge they tell the king that she is a kálakanni, which according to Childers means " a hag." In the Játakamálá they are too much bewildered to stand, much less to eat; but the report which they make is much the same as in our text, and made from the same motives.
CHAPTER XCII.
(Vetála 18.)
Then in that cemetery, full of the flames of funeral pyres, as of demons, flesh-devouring, with lolling tongues of fire, the undaunted king Trivikramasena went back that same night to the aśoka-tree.
And there he unexpectedly saw many corpses of similar appearance hanging upon the tree, and they all seemed to be possessed by Vetálas. The king said to himself, " Ah ! what is the meaning of this? Is this deluding Vetála doing this now in order to waste my time? For I do not know which of these many corpses here I ought to take. If this night shall pass away without my accomplishing my object, I will enter the fire, I will not put up with disgrace." But the Vetála discovered the king's intention, and pleased with his courage, he withdrew that delusion. Then the king beheld only one Vetála on the tree in the corpse of a man, and he took it down, and put it on his shoulder, and once more started off with it. And as he trudged along, the Vetála again said to him, " King, your fortitude is wonderful: so listen to this my tale."
Story of the Bráhman's son who failed to acquire the magic power.:—There is a city called Ujjayiní, inferior only to Bhogavatí and Amarávatí, which Śiva, who was won by the toilsome asceticism of Gaurí, being in love with the matchless pre-eminence of its excellence, himself selected as his habitation. It is full of various enjoyments, to be attained only by distinguished well-doing; in that city stiffness and hardness is seen only in the bosoms of the ladies, curvature only in their eye-brows,*[1] and fickleness only in their rolling eyes; darkness only in the nights; crookedness only in the ambiguous phrases of poets; madness only in elephants; and coldness only in pearls, sandal-wood juice, and the moon.
In that city there was a learned Bráhman, named Devasvámin, who had offered many sacrifices, and possessed great wealth, and who was highly honoured by the kin, whose name was Chandraprabha. In time there was born to that Bráhman's son, named Chandrasvámin, and he, though he had studied the sciences, was, when he grew up, exclusively devoted to the vice of gambling. †[2] Now once on a time that Bráhman's son, Chandrasvámin, entered a great gambling-hall to gamble. Calamities seemed to be continually watching that hall with tumbling dice for rolling eyes, like the black antelope in colour, and saying to themselves, " Whom shall we seize on here?" And the hall, full of the noise of the altercations of gamblers, seemed to utter this cry, " Who is there whose wealth I could not take away? I could impoverish even Kuvera the lord of Alaká." Then he entered the hall, and playing dice with gamblers, he lost his clothes and all, and then he lost borrowed money in addition. And when he was called upon to pay that impossible sum, he could not do it, so the keeper of the gambling- hall seized him and beat him with sticks. ‡[3] And that Bráhman's son, when beaten with sticks all over his body, made himself motionless as a stone, and to all appearance dead, and remained in that state. When he had remained there in that condition for two or three days, the proprietor of the gambling establishment got angry, and said, in the gambling-hall, to the gamblers, who frequented it; " This fellow has begun to try on the petrifaction dodge, so take the spiritless wretch and throw him into some blind well; but I will give you the money."
When the proprietor said this to the gamblers, they took up Chandrasvámin, and carried him to a distant wood to look for a well. There an old gambler said to the others, "This fellow is all but dead; so what is the good of throwing him into a well now? So let us leave him here, and say that we left him in a well." All approved his speech, and agreed to do as he recommended.
Then the gamblers left Chandrasvámin there and went their ways, and he rose up and entered an empty temple of Śiva that stood near. There he recovered his strength a little, and reflected in his grief, " Alas ! being over-confiding, I have been robbed by these gamblers by downright cheating, so, where can I go in this condition, naked, cudgelled, and begrimed with dust? What would my father, my relations, or my friends say of me, if they saw me? So I will remain here for the present, and at night I will go out, and see how I can make shift to get food, to satisfy my hunger." While he was going through these reflections in hunger and nakedness, the sun abated his heat, and abandoned his garment the sky, and went to the mountain of setting.
Thereupon there came there a Páśupata ascetic with his body smeared with ashes, with matted hair and a trident, looking like a second Śiva. When he saw Chandrasvámin, he said to him, " Who are you? Thereupon Chandrasvámin told him his story, and bowed before him, and the hermit when he heard it, said to him; " You have arrived at my hermitage, as an unexpected guest, exhausted with hunger; so rise up, bathe, and take a portion of the food I have obtained by begging." When the hermit said this to Chandrasvámin, he answered, " Reverend sir, I am a Bráhman; how can I eat a part of your alms?"
When the hospitable hermit who possessed magic powers, heard that, he entered his hut, and called to mind the science which produces whatever one desires, and the science appeared to him when he called it to mind, and said, ' What shall I do for you?" And he gave it this order; " Provide entertainment for this guest." The science answered " I will;" and then Chandrasvámin beheld a golden city rise up, with a garden attached to it, and full of female attendants. And those females came out of that city, and approached the astonished Chandrasvámin, and said to him; " Rise up, good sir; come, eat, and forget your fatigue." Then they took him inside, and made him bathe, and anointed him; and they put splendid garments on him, and took him to another magnificent dwelling; and there the young man be held a young woman who seemed their chief, who was beautiful in all her limbs, and appeared to have been made by the Creator out of curiosity to see what he could do. She rose up, eager to welcome him, and made him sit beside her on her throne, and he partook with her of heavenly food, and ate with much delight betel-nut, flavoured with five fruits.
And next morning ho woke up, and saw only that temple of Śiva there, and neither that city, nor that heavenly lady nor her attendants. Then the hermit came out of the hut smiling, and asked him how he had enjoyed himself in the night, and the discreet Chandrasvámin, in his despondency, said to the hermit, " By your favour, reverend sir, I spent the night happily enough; but now, without that heavenly lady, my life will depart." When the hermit heard that, being kind-hearted, he laughed and said to him, " Remain here, you shall have exactly the same experiences this night also." When the hermit said this, Chandrasvámin consented to stay, and by the favour of the hermit, he was provided by the same means with the same enjoyments every night.
And at last he understood that this was all produced by magic science, so, one day, impelled by destiny, he coaxed that mighty hermit and said to him, " If, reverend sir, you really take pity on me, who have fled to you for protection, bestow on me that science, whose power is so great." When he urged this request persitently, the hermit said to him, " You cannot attain this science; for it is attained under the water, and while the aspirant is muttering spells under the water, the science creates delusions to bewilder him, so that he does not attain success. For there he sees himself born again, and a boy, and then a youth, and then a young man, and married, and then he supposes that he has a son. And he is falsely deluded, supposing that one person is his friend and another his enemy, and he does not remember this birth, nor that he is engaged in a magic rite for acquiring science. But whoever, when he seems to have reached twenty four years, is recalled to consciousness by the science of his instructor, and being firm of soul, remembers his real life, and knows that all he supposes himself to experience is the effect of illusion, and though he is under the influence of it, enters the fire, attains the science, and rising from the water, sees the real truth. But if the science is not attained by the pupil on whom it is bestowed, it is lost to the teacher also, on account of its having been communicated to an unfit person. You can attain all the results you desire by my possession of the science; why do you shew this persistence? Take care that my power is not lost, and that so your enjoyment is-not lost also."
Though the hermit said this, Chandrasvámin persisted in saying to him, I shall be able to do all that is required*[4]; do not be anxious about that." Then the hermit consented to give him the science. What will not good men do for the sake of those that implore their aid? Then tho Páśupata ascetic wont to the bank of tho river, and said to him, " My son, when, in repeating this charm, you behold that illusion, I will recall you to consciousness by my magic power, and you must enter the Ore which you will see in your illusion. For I shall remain here all the time on tho bank of the river to help you. When that prince of ascetics had said this, being himself pure, he duly communicated that charm to Chandrasvámin, who was purified and had rinsed his mouth with water. Then Chandrasvámin bowed low before his teacher, and plunged boldly into the river, while he remained on the bank. And while he was repeating over that charm in the water, he was at once bewildered by its deluding power, and cheated into forgetting the whole of that birth. And he imagined himself to be born in his own person in another town, as the son of a certain Bráhman, and he slowly grew up. And in his fancy he was invested with the Bráhmanical thread, and studied the prescribed sciences, and married a wife, and was absorbed in the joys and sorrows of married life, and in course of time had a son born to him, and he remained in that town engaged in various pursuits, enslaved by love for his son, devoted to his wife, with his parents and relations.
While be was thus living through in his fancy a life other than bis real one, the hermit his teacher employed tho charm, whose office it was to rouse him at the proper season. He was suddenly awakened from his reverie by tho employment of that charm, and recollected himself and that hermit, and became aware that all that ho was apparently going through was magic illusion, and he became eager to enter the fire, in order to gain the fruit, which was to be attained by the charm; but he was surrounded by his elders, friends, superiors and relations, who all tried to prevent him. Still, though they used all kinds of arguments to dissuade him, being desirous of heavenly enjoyment, he went with his relations to the bank of the river, on which a pyre was prepared. There he saw his aged parents and his wife ready to die with grief, and his young children crying; and in his bewilderment he said to himself; " Alas ! my relations will all die, if I enter the fire, and I do not know if that promise of my teacher's is true or not. So shall I enter the fire? Or shall I not enter it? After all, how can that promise of my teacher's be false, as it is so precisely in accordance with all that has taken place? So, I will gladly enter the fire." When the Bráhman Chandrasvámin had gone through these reflections, he entered the fire.
And to his astonishment the fire felt as cool to him as snow. Then he rose up from the water of the river, tho delusion having come to an end, and went to the bank. There he saw his teacher on the bank, and he prostrated himself at bis feet, and when bis teacher questioned him, he told him all his experiences, ending with the cool feel of the fire. Then his teacher said to him, " My son, I am afraid you have made some mistake in this incantation, otherwise how can the fire have become cool to you? This phenomenon in the process of acquiring this science is unprecedented." When Chandrasvámin heard this remark of his teacher's, he answered, " Reverend sir, I am sure that I made no mistake."
Then the teacher, in order to know for certain, called to mind that science, and it did not present itself to him or his pupil. So, as both of them had lost the science, they left that place despondent.
When the Vetála had told this story, he once more put a question to king Trivikramasena, after mentioning the same condition as before . " King, resolve this doubt of mine; tell me, why was the science lost to both of them, though the incantation was performed in the prescribed way?" When the brave king heard this speech of the Vetála's, he gave him this answer; " I know, lord of magic, you are bent on wasting my time here, still I will answer. A man cannot obtain success even by performing correctly a difficult ceremony, unless his mind is firm, and abides in spotless courage, unhesitating and pure from wavering. But in that business the mind of that spiritless young Brahman wavered, even when roused by his teacher,*[5] so his charm did not attain success, and his teacher lost his mastery over the charm, because he did bestowed it on an undeserving aspirant."
When the king had said this, the mighty Vetála again left his shoulder and went back invisible to bis own place, and the king went back to fetch him as before.
Note.
The above story closely resembles one quoted from the Turkish Tales in the 94th number of the Spectator.
A sultan of Egypt was directed by a great doctor in the law, who had the gift of working miracles, to place himself in a huge tub of water, which he accordingly did; and as he stood by the tub amidst a circle of his great men, the holy man bid him plunge his head into the water and draw it up again. The king accordingly thrust his head into the water, and at the same time found himself at the foot of a mountain on the seashore. The king immediately began to rage against his doctor for this piece of treachery and witchcraft; but at length, knowing it was in vain to be angry, he set himself to think on proper methods for getting a livelihood in this strange country, Accordingly he applied himself to some people, whom he saw at work in a neighbouring wood: these people conducted him to a town that stood at a little distance from the wood, where after some adventures, he married a woman of great beauty and fortune. He lived with this woman so long that he had by her seven sons and seven daughters. He was afterwards reduced to great want, and forced to think of plying in the streets as a porter for his livelihood. One day, as he was walking alone by the seaside, being seized with many melancholy reflections upon his former and his present state of life. which had raised a fit of devotion in him. he throw off his clothes in the desire to wash himself, according to the custom of tho Muhummadana, before he said his prayers.
After his first plunge into tho sea, he no sooner raised his head above the water, than he found himself standing by the side of the tub, with the great men of his court about him, and tho holy man at his side. He immediately upbraided his teacher for having sent him on such a course of adventures, and betrayed him into so long a state of misery and servitude; but was wonderfully surprised when ho heard that the state he talked of was only a dream and a delusion; that he had not stirred from the place where he then stood; and that he had only dipped his head into the water, and taken it out again. Oesterley compares the story of Devadatta in the 26th Taranga of this work.
CHAPTER XCIII.
(Vetála 19.)
Then king Trivikramasena again went and took the Vetála from the aśoka-tree, and putting him on his shoulder, set out with him; and as he was returning from the tree, the Vetála once more said to him, " Listen, king, I will tell you a delightful tale."
Story of the Thief's Son.:— There is a city named Vakrolaka, equal to the city of the gods; in it there dwelt a king named Súryaprabha, equal to Indra. He, like Vishnu, rescued this earth, and bore it long time on his arm, gladdening all men by his frame ever ready to bear their burdens.*[6] In the realm of that king tears were produced only by contact with smoke, there was no talk of death except in the case of the living death of starved lovers, and the only fines were the fine gold sticks in the hands of his warders. He was rich in all manner of wealth, and he had only one source of grief, namely, that, though he had many wives, no son was born to him.
Now, at this point of the story, there was a merchant, of the name of Dhanapála, in the great city of Tamraliptí, the wealthiest of the wealthy. And he had born to him one daughter only, and her name was Dhanavatí, who was shewn by her beauty to be a Vidyádharí fallen by a curse. When she grew up to womanhood, the merchant died; and his relations seized his property, as the king did not interfere to protect it. Then the wife of that merchant, who was named Hiranyavatí, took her own jewels and ornaments, which she had carefully concealed, and left her house secretly at the beginning of night, with her daughter Dhanavatí, and fled, to escape
- ↑ * Bhanga also means defeat.
- ↑ † This vice was prevalent even in the Vedic age. See Zimmer, Alt-Indischea Leben, pp. 283-287; Muir's Sanskrit Texts, Vol. V, pp. 425-430. It is well-known that the plot of the Mahábhárata principally turns on this vice.
- ↑ ‡ Compare the conduct of Máthura in tho Mrichchhakatika. For the pennileas state of the gambler, see p. 195, and Gaal, Märchen der Magyaren, p. 3.
- ↑ * I read śakshyámi with the Sanskrit College MS.
- ↑ * Prabodhya should, I think, be prabudhya.
- ↑ * It also means, in the case of Vishnu, " by his incarnation in the form of a boar."