Part 19

After a time the king ordered the dogs to be brought, whether instructed or not instructed. The other ministers, who were not versed in the sciences, had not been able to teach their dogs to speak. Then the king ordered Mahaushadha to bring the dog which had been handed over to him. When the gaunt, famished dog appeared before the king, he asked why it was so thin. Mahaushadha replied, “O king, I have given it the same kind of food that I ate myself.” But the dog exclaimed, “O king, that is not true. I am all but dead with hunger.” Thereupon Mahaushadha said, “After this fashion have I taught the dog to speak.” Whereat the king was highly pleased.

Another time, when the king wished to make a similar trial, he ordered each of the ministers to feed and water a sheep in such a manner that the sheep should become strong without waxing fat. [118] Five hundred of the ministers were unaware how to set about this matter. They reared their sheep, but the sheep became fat. But Mahaushadha, while he placed delicate food before his sheep, set up in front of it a wooden wolf which he had provided for the purpose. The sight of the wolf frightened the sheep so much that it grew up strong without becoming fat. When the king saw that the sheep of the other ministers were flourishing and very fat, but that Mahaushadha’s sheep had become strong without growing fat, he highly commended his wisdom.

On another occasion the king was again desirous of finding out who was possessed of wisdom. The five hundred sons of the ministers were holding a feast in the park. As they sat there eating and drinking, they took to describing marvellous things, each one being called upon to state whatever wondrous thing he had either himself experienced or had heard described while tarrying at home. Then out of friendship they told one another the marvels they had witnessed at home and elsewhere. Along with the rest Mahaushadha’s son was called upon by the young men to relate something. He said that there was a stone in his father’s house which, although it formed the base of a column, would yet, if thrown into water, swim to and fro, and lend itself to rubbing and kneading, and so forth. The youths expressed their opinion that no such marvel existed in any of their houses. As he would not give way, and they doubted his word, he said that he would stake upon it five hundred pieces of gold. He told this to his father, who said, “Son, do not show them the stone.” So when the youths came, he did not show them the stone, and his five hundred gold pieces were forfeited.

After a time Mahaushadha took some monkeys and gave them a musical training. Then he said to his son, “Go to your comrades and tell them, in reference to your former undertaking about marvels seen at home, that you are willing to stake twice as much money as before on the fact that you can show in your house musical monkeys, capable of dancing and singing and playing on the drum.” In accordance with these instructions the young man, after speaking of other things, passed on to that subject, and said that he had seen such creatures. They declared that they had never either seen or heard of monkeys which performed musically. “What will you give me if I show you some?” he said. They replied, “You have already lost five hundred pieces of gold, and now you will lose a thousand if you cannot show us these monkeys, but have been talking nonsense as before. But if you do show them to us, then we will pay you that sum.” When they had settled this wager, the monkeys were brought into the royal palace, where they played and sang and danced before the king. So the young men were obliged to pay the thousand pieces of gold. The king was greatly astonished; he had never seen or heard of anything like it before. Thereupon the king, the ministers, and the inhabitants of the city all paid great honour to Mahaushadha, in that he was wise and clever above all other men.

It happened that there was born unto a very learned Brahman in the land of Videha a very beautiful daughter, whom he determined he would give in marriage to him only who equalled himself in acuteness and knowledge. She received the name of Udumbarikā.

Unto another Brahman there was born a bad-looking son, unlike his father, and marked with eighteen signs of ugliness. On account of his ugliness his parents, at the time of his birth, gave him the name of Virūpa. As he was so hideous, and his parents were ashamed of his ugliness, they thought it would be of no use to have so bad-looking a creature educated. But when he had grown up, being desirous of instruction, he determined to go to another country in order to study. There he was accepted as a pupil by a Brahman, and he soon made himself master of all the knowledge his teacher possessed.

In consequence of this, Udumbarikā’s father determined, in spite of Virūpa’s ugliness, to give him his daughter to wife. However Virūpa did not dare to draw nigh unto her, but resolved to go back to his own home, in order to live with her there.

When Udumbarikā set eyes upon this paragon of ugliness, she being herself beautiful, she felt ashamed of him. Virūpa set out with her for his own country. On the way their stock of travelling provisions came to an end. Arriving at the edge of a piece of water, they threw themselves down upon the ground, feeling very hungry. A fellow-traveller, having stirred up some meal and water with a bit of wood, began to partake of it, and the woman, tormented by hunger, begged to have some too. Then Virūpa took a handful of meal and partook of it by himself.

“As I also am sorely tormented by hunger,” said Udumbarikā, “I would fain partake of that water.”

“As the early Rishis and law-teachers have forbidden women to partake of such water, I will not give you any,” replied Virūpa.

While they were suffering from hunger in a desert during a time of drought, Virūpa found some dog’s flesh, which he roasted and ate. When Udumbarikā wanted some too, he would not give her any, because the Rishis had forbidden women to partake of such food. Thereupon she gave way to all kinds of wailing, lamenting that she, unhappy one that she was, should be tormented by the pangs of hunger, and asking wherefore, on account of what fault of hers, had her parents wedded her to such a man.

They proceeded farther, and saw a ripe Udumbara tree. Virūpa climbed it and feasted on its fruit. Udumbarikā said he ought not to eat it all himself, but ought to give some to her also. He ate the ripe fruit and threw down to her only what was unripe. She told him he ought not to fling her the unripe fruit only, but ought to give her the ripe fruit also. He replied, “If you want ripe fruit, climb the tree yourself and pluck and eat.”

Tormented by hunger, she climbed up into the tree with difficulty, and there ate some fruit. But Virūpa thought, “What can such a wretched man as I am do with such a wife—I, who can scarcely support myself? She will not so much as look at me.”

Coming down from the tree, he surrounded it with thorns and then went his way.

Now it happened that just at that time King Janaka went out hunting, and he heard in the forest the wailing of Udumbarikā deserted by her husband. Following the sound, he caught sight of the bright-eyed one, who seemed to him like a goddess of the forest. When she had come down from the tree he reposed by her side, and then set her in his chariot, conveyed her to the city, and gave himself up to pleasure with her.

Meanwhile Virūpa, as he walked along by himself, repented of having deserted his wife. So he returned to the Udumbara tree, but found that his wife was not there, and learnt that King Janaka had taken her away with him, and had made her one of his wives. Thereat he was sorely grieved.

He went to the gate of the palace, but he was not admitted within. Then he saw that there were men at work in the courtyard of the palace, and he resolved to carry stone along with them. By this means he gained access to the palace, where he saw his wife and the king in loving converse. He hit upon a plan of speaking with his wife, and he and she discoursed in verse as follows:—

He. “Golden is the corner-stone. Dost thou rejoice in blaming? Fair one, lovest thou me not? Take, O carpenter, the stone!”

She. “At that spot did I beseech thee. In my memory dwell the words, ‘To women meat is forbidden.’ Me didst thou forsake.”

He. “Beside the Udumbara tree, O fair one, hast thou asked me, born beside the river Ganges. Take, O carpenter, the stone.”

She. “When I asked for meal and water, thus was I answered: ‘It is not right that a woman should partake thereof.’ Therefore have I hither come.”

He. “Much has the learned mouth spoken. Speak of the countless golden glitter. Fair one, lovest thou me not? Take, O master, the stone!”

She. “Unripe was what thou didst give me. The ripe didst thou eat thyself. Mindful of harsh speech do I now sit dallying here.”

He. “Down from the mountain will I dash, poison also will I drink, O Brahman woman. Wailing for thee am I here. Take, O carpenter, the stone!”

She. “Dash thyself down from the mountain, drink thy poison, O Brahman! In love’s time thou didst not love. At home must dalliance take place.”

While they two thus held converse, the king became suspicious, and said, “O queen, as I do not understand what ye are saying to each other, speak to me without fear, that I may hearken to your words.” As the king was completely under her influence, she gave him a full account of everything. The king asked her if she wished to go away with her husband. She did not like to say openly that her husband was repulsive to her, for she was afraid that he, as he was a Brahman, might bring a curse upon her by means of evil spells. Then the king asked Mahaushadha what was to be done. Mahaushadha promised to arrange so that the king would not have to part with her.

“How so?” asked the king.

“As this Brahman,” replied Mahaushadha, “is a man of very small means, but these women are exceedingly grand, I will speak to him after such and such a fashion. If I suggest it to him, he will look for his wife among your women, without identifying her.”

The Brahman was summoned, and was asked what he was looking for, and why he had entered the palace. He replied that he was looking for his wife, whom the king had brought there.

“Shall you be able to identify your wife?” asked Mahaushadha.

“Yes,” replied Virūpa.

“I will bring the five hundred women before you,” said Mahaushadha. “If you pick out from among them one who does not belong to you, your body shall be cut to pieces with weapons.”

Then the king ordered all his wives to appear arrayed in all their bravery, and to make the greatest possible display of ornaments. And the king caused Udumbarikā to be placed at the head of all the women, looking like the spouse of Indra, and surrounded as it were by Apsarases, and situated on a highroad, where sacrifices were brought. Mahaushadha called the Brahman to the front, and told him to take away his wife if he recognised her. But when Virūpa saw Udumbarikā and the other women adorned with all their bravery, he stood still like a snake charmed by a spell. Like one unable to gaze at the light of day looked the Brahman at the women. Then he saw a female slave, a carrier of water, like unto a Piśāchī [or female demon] in appearance, standing at the back behind one of the king’s wives, and he seized her by the hand and said, “This is my wife.”

“If that be so, then take her away with you,” said Mahaushadha.

The Brahman took her and said, “The excellent loves the excellent, and the mediocre the mediocre; to the crooked one is my heart attached. O fair one, I am like unto a Piśācha, and you too are a Piśāchī. Come unto me, O Piśāchī. As I am like unto a Piśācha, we will take pleasure together.”

Therefore King Janaka forgave Mahaushadha all the faults which he had ever committed.

One day the king went into the park with his wives, and enjoyed himself there together with them. One of them took off a string of pearls worth a hundred thousand pieces of money and hung it on a spray of an aśoka tree. While sporting with the king she forgot about it and left it there. At midnight, after she had gone back to the palace with the king, she remembered that she had left her necklace in the forest. Meanwhile it had been carried off to the top of a tree by a female monkey.

The king ordered his men to hasten to the forest and bring back the necklace. They went there, but they did not find it. Now a beggar had gone there in search of the remnants of the food of which other men had made a meal. As he came forth from the forest after partaking of such food, the king’s men arrested him. As no one else was to be seen there, they called on him to render up the necklace. Although he protested that he had not taken it, had not even seen it, yet he was beaten with fists and stakes, and then thrown into prison.

Tormented by hunger, he reflected that, unless he contrived some cunning way of escape, he would die there of starvation. So he said to the jailer that he had, it was true, taken the pearl necklace, but that he had given it to such and such a young merchant. Him also the king’s men summoned, and the two men were set fast connected by wooden fetters.

The merchant used to receive from home dainty food. While he was partaking of it the beggar asked him for some. But the merchant reviled him, saying, “It is all very well for you to accuse me of theft in order that I may nourish you with my food. I will give you none of it.” And having thus spoken, he ate it all up.

After this, when the merchant wished to change his place, and said, “Let us stand up and move,” the beggar replied, “I will not listen to your words; I shall not get up.” Then said the merchant, “Henceforward will I behave so that you will be contented.” Thus with friendly words and with an oath he won over the beggar, and was able to do as he wished.

The next day the merchant sent home orders to provide in future food enough for two persons. Thereat the beggar was highly pleased, and he reflected that in former times he used to wander about the whole city without being able to find the means of filling his belly, but now food and drink in plenty were at hand, and it would be well to call in a courtesan. Accordingly, he accused one of a share in the theft, and the king’s men set her also in the prison. When the beggar was sitting in company with these two prisoners and enjoying food and drink, he said, “Good is it if we get free from here after the space of a dozen years.”

While they so enjoyed themselves a further desire arose within them. They thought that in order to have still more pleasure they must call in a lute-player. So the beggar accused a lute-player also of having taken the string of pearls. Then the king’s men cast him also into the prison.

After some time the others besought the beggar to find some means whereby they might become free, saying that in that case he should want for nothing. He promised to do so, and bethought himself that no one could be of use except Mahaushadha. So he told the king’s men that Mahaushadha’s son had likewise taken part in the affair, and they sent for him also.

When Mahaushadha heard that his son had been imprisoned, he felt that he must certainly go to the palace, for if he did not do so his son would fret himself. On arriving there, he asked the king what offence his son had committed. The king replied that he had been imprisoned on the testimony of the beggar with respect to the stolen pearl necklace. When Mahaushadha had become fully acquainted with the contrivance of the captives, he said to the king, “The theft has not been committed by any of these people. Let them all go free on my word.” So they were released.

After this he went out to the park, and came to the spot, to the very tree, where they had been before. When he looked closely at the tree, he perceived a female monkey sitting at the top of it. Then he felt sure that this animal had taken the string of pearls, and that it must be enticed to come down by some artifice. So he asked the king to go there with his wife, and when there, to hang a necklace round her neck. When that was done, the monkey, as it sat on the tree-top, hung the pearl necklace round its neck. Then Mahaushadha told the king’s wife to dance. When she did so, the monkey on the tree-top also began to dance; but still the string of pearls did not fall from off its neck. In order to bring that about, Mahaushadha asked the king to make his wife, as she danced, hang down her head. Then the monkey also began to dance about with its head hanging down, whereupon the string of pearls fell down from off its neck. Full of joy, the king embraced Mahaushadha and bestowed much property upon him.

After a time the six ministers assembled together and held counsel as to what was to be done, seeing that whereas they had formerly been esteemed, honoured, and exalted by the king, they had now lost their credit on account of a half-starved, gross-witted upstart. Then some of them said, “Inasmuch as we have hitherto been at variance one with another, therefore have we become destitute of power. Now let us go into the park, and when we have gone there, let us take an oath and bind ourselves by a vow. By that means shall we once more recover our power.”

Mahaushadha saw them going thither, and reflected that, as they had gone somewhere as if by common consent, they probably had in hand something never seen before. Having suspected this, he sent the parrot Māṭhara [119] after them, in order that it might find out what they were about, what they said and did.

When they had reached the park and there met together, they began to communicate to each other their faults and secrets, saying, “Now will we lend each other support.”

“I ate the king’s peacock,” said one.

“I sinned with the king’s wife,” said another.

“I will do likewise,” said a third.

After all six of them had revealed their secrets to each other, they partook of food out of the same vessel.

But the parrot Māṭhara reported all it had heard to Mahaushadha, and he reported it to the king, who banished those ministers from the country.

IX.

MAHĀKĀŚYAPA AND BHADRĀ. [120]

While Bhagavant was dwelling in the region of Tushita, there lived in the city of Nyagrodhika a highly respectable Brahman named Nyagrodha, whose means were so great that he rivalled Vaiśravaṇa in wealth. He possessed sixteen slave villages, thirty agricultural villages, sixty vegetable-garden villages, nine hundred and ninety-nine pair of plough oxen, six hundred millions of gold pieces, and eighty golden earrings capable of vying with those of King Mahāpadma. He had married a wife of birth like unto his own, but their union remained childless. In order to obtain offspring he appealed to all the gods, but without result.

As he sat one day sorrowing, his mother advised him to go to the park and have recourse to the deity of the thick-foliaged Nyagrodha tree from which the city took its name, a tree provided with wide-spreading branches and a splendid crown.

“Your father also remained childless [she said], although he had appealed for offspring to many hundreds of thousands of gods. At length he betook himself to that Nyagrodha tree, and after he had implored its aid you were born, and for that reason was the name of Nyagrodha bestowed upon you.”

So Nyagrodha also betook himself to that tree, and caused the ground around it to be sprinkled, cleansed, and adorned. He then filled the space with perfumes, flowers, and incense, and set up flags and standards. Then, after having entertained eight hundred Brahmans and bestowed upon them materials for robes, he prayed thus to the tree-haunting deity:—

“Be pleased to bestow upon me a son. If a son is born unto me, I will pay thee boundless honour after this fashion for the space of a year. But if no son is born unto me, then will I cleave thee down to the level of beard-grass [121] and split thee into chips. These will I burn, when they have been dried by the wind and the sun, and their ashes will I scatter to the storm-wind or cast into the rolling stream.”

The deity, who was one of but small power, was well pleased with the prayer, and moreover was afraid of being possibly driven away from that haunt. So, being in favour with the four Mahārājas, the deity went to the Mahārāja Rāshṭrapāla, and besought him to fulfil Nyagrodha’s request. Rāshṭrapāla considered that he could not do this, inasmuch as the birth of sons and daughters takes place only in consequence of former actions. So he betook himself, along with the deity of the tree, to Virūḍhaka, to Virūpāksha, and to Vaiśravaṇa. But they likewise declared their incompetency. Then the four Mahārājas betook themselves to Śakra, the prince of the gods, and said, “O Kauśika, a deity belonging to our company is in danger of being driven from home. Be pleased on that account to bestow a son on Nyagrodha, the respected Brahman of the city Nyagrodha.”

Śakra replied that it did not lie in his power to bestow a son or daughter, seeing that sons and daughters are born as a result of their own [previous] merits. Just then the court of the gods was illuminated by a great radiance, at the sight of which Śakra begged the four Mahārājas not to go away yet, for Mahābrahma was doubtless about to appear. Then appeared Mahābrahma in youthful perfection, and took his place on Śakra’s bosom. He it is who fulfils all things which shall be accomplished. Then Śakra, the prince of the gods, laid the palms of his hands together, and thus prayed to Mahābrahma:—

“O Mahābrahma, art thou not Brahma, Mahābrahma, the ruler, the worker, the bestower, the spell-wielder, the lord, the most high, and, as father of the worlds, the creator of all beings? Lo, a deity belonging to our court, a dweller upon the earth, is in danger of being driven away from a tree-habitation. Be pleased, therefore, to bestow a son upon the respected Brahman Nyagrodha of the city of Nyagrodhika.”

Mahābrahma reflected that he really could not confer on any one a son or a daughter, but that, if he stated that he could not do so, then all the designations would be discredited which it was customary to apply to him, such as Brahma, Mahābrahma, the ruler, the worker, the bestower, and the spell-wielder. In case he should say that he would bestow a son or daughter, inasmuch as he had no power to do so, it would be requisite for him to take heed as to how he should accomplish that bestowing. With that end he said privately to Śakra, the prince of the gods, “O Kauśika, neither has the world made me, nor I the world.”

Śakra replied, “O Mahābrahma, since this is so, inspect thy region, and if a being is found there in the act of being subjected to the law of death, induce it to enter into the womb in the house of the respected Brahman.”

Brahma asked him why he did not inspect his own region. Śakra replied, “In the region of Brahma the gods are known to be powerful, but those of this region are considered powerless, and on account of their feebleness they would not venture to make their entry.”

When Brahma had given his consent, and had returned into his own region, he perceived that the life of a certain god was coming to an end, five prognostics thereof being visible. To him he spake thus:—

“O friend, as it appears that thou art departing from thy pleasant abode, and art making a change, be so good as to enter into the womb in the house of the respectable Brahman Nyagrodha in the city of Nyagrodhika. I will see that nothing shall be wanting in the way of appointments.”