Part 8

When the youth Kuśa was going to enter into his house, the doorkeeper kept him back, saying, “Do not intrude here, for this is the house of the youth Kuśa.” “I am Kuśa,” he replied. As the doorkeeper would not believe him, Kuśa removed the jewel from his head. Then his appearance became what it had been before, so that the doorkeeper now believed him.

The youth Kuśa resolved to remain at that spot, and to let his father know. So he sent word to him saying, “I shall stay here.”

The king of the gods, Indra, pointed out to him the locality of four treasures. Kuśa had a city built of the four precious stones, and it was named Kuśinagara, inasmuch as the youth Kuśa abode there. He became the mightily ruling Chakravartin Kuśa.

III.

ĀDARŚAMUKHA. [74]

To King Ānanda there were born five sons. The youngest of these, inasmuch as his face resembled a mirror, was named Ādarśamukha or Mirror-face. All five sons grew up. Prince Ādarśamukha was very gentle and modest, but the others were rash, rude, and hot-tempered. Their father called them together one day on a matter of business. The minds of the elder brothers were incapable of deciding the smallest of its points, but Prince Ādarśamukha answered with intelligence the difficult questions which were proposed to him.

Being attacked by illness, King Ānanda considered as to whom he should invest with the sovereign power. “If I invest one of my four elder sons with the power,” he thought, “inasmuch as they are rash, rude, and hot-tempered, misfortunes will unduly increase among men; but if I invest Prince Ādarśamukha with the power, then my kinsmen will reproach me for having passed over my elder sons and given the power to the youngest. It is necessary, therefore, that I should devise some way of escape.”

With that intention he decided in his mind on three precious things, and on a recognition by the women, and on six objects to be recognised by insight. Then he said to his ministers, “Give ear, O chieftains! After my death ye are to test each of the princes in turn. Him among them whom the jewel-shoes fit when they are tried on, under whom the throne remains steadfast when he is set upon it, on whom the diadem, rests unshaken when it is placed upon his head, whom the women recognise, and who guesses the six objects to be divined by his insight, namely, the inner treasure, the outer treasure, the inner and outer treasure, the treasure of the tree-top, the treasure of the hill-top, and the treasure of the river shore—him by whom all these conditions are fulfilled shall ye invest with the sovereign power.”

Then, according to the proverb which says that all which has been accumulated dwindles, and all that is high will meet with a fall, he died. Now when the ministers tried to place the jewel-shoes on the feet of the eldest prince, the shoes did not fit. When he was set upon the throne, it moved. When the diadem was placed upon his head, it shook greatly. Moreover the women did not recognise him. And when he was told the names of the six objects which were to be divined by his insight, he did not guess them. The fate of three of his younger brothers was just the same. But when the jewel-shoes were placed upon Prince Ādarśamukha’s feet, they fitted him perfectly. When he was set upon the throne, it remained unmoved. When he was crowned with the diadem, his head looked forth from beneath it proudly. Moreover the women recognised him. Then the ministers said, “Now you must find out the six objects to be divined by insight, namely, the inner treasure, the outer treasure, the inner and outer treasure, the treasure of the tree-top, the treasure of the hill-top, and the treasure of the river shore.” Ādarśamukha replied, “If the question is which is the inner treasure, that is the treasure which is inside the threshold. If the question is which is the outer treasure, that is the treasure which is outside the threshold. If the question is which is the treasure of the tree-top, that is the treasure which is at the spot on which the tree planted by the king casts its shadow at midday. If the question is which is the treasure of the hill-top, that is the treasure which is under the stone at the bottom of the tank wherein the king used to take delight. If the question is which is the treasure of the river shore, that is the treasure which is at the end of the channel by which the water flows out of the house.” As all the problems were solved, the ministers made Ādarśamukha king, and he became a mighty monarch.

In a certain place among the hills there lived a Brahman named Daṇḍin, who borrowed a pair of oxen from a householder. After ploughing his land, he went with the oxen to the householder’s dwelling. As the man was at his dinner, the Brahman Daṇḍin let the oxen go to their stall; but they went out again by another door. When the householder arose from his meal and found that the oxen had disappeared, he seized Daṇḍin and asked where the oxen were. Daṇḍin replied, “Did not I bring them back to your house?” “As you have stolen my oxen, give them back to me,” said the other. Daṇḍin replied, “I have not stolen them.” The other said, “King Ādarśamukha is wise. Let us go to him; he will settle this affair for us, separating the right from the wrong.” So they both set out on their way.

A man from whom a mare had run away called out to Daṇḍin to stop it. He asked how he was to stop it. The man told him to do so in any way he could. Daṇḍin picked up a stone and flung it at the mare’s head, the consequence of which was that the mare was killed. The man said, “As you have killed my mare, give me another one.” Daṇḍin said, “Why should I give you a mare?” The man replied, “Come, let us go to King Ādarśamukha; he will settle our business for us.” So they set off to go to him.

Daṇḍin tried to run away. As he sprang down from a wall, he fell on a weaver who was at his work below, in consequence of which the weaver died. The weaver’s wife laid hands upon Daṇḍin and demanded that he, as he had killed her husband, should restore him to her. “Where am I to get your husband from for you?” he said. “Come, let us go to King Ādarśamukha,” she replied; “he will settle our business for us.” So they went their way.

About half-way they came to a deep river, which a carpenter was fording, his axe in his mouth. Daṇḍin asked him if the river was deep or shallow. The carpenter, letting his axe drop, said, “The river is deep.” Then, as his axe had fallen into the water, he seized Daṇḍin and said, “You have flung my axe into the water.”

“No, I have not.”

“Come, let us go to King Ādarśamukha; he will settle our business for us.”

By and by they who were leading Daṇḍin along came to a drinking-house. In it Daṇḍin sat down upon the landlady’s new-born babe, which was lying asleep under a dress. “There’s a child lying there! There’s a child lying there!” cried the mother. But when she looked at it, the child was dead. She seized on Daṇḍin and demanded that he, who had killed her child, should give it back to her. He replied, “I did not kill it. Why should I give you a child?” She said, “Come, let us go to King Ādarśamukha.” So they set out on their way.

At a certain spot a crow which sat on a withered tree saw Daṇḍin, and asked him whither he was going. He replied, “I am not going anywhere, but I am being taken by these people.”

“Whither?”

“To King Ādarśamukha’s.”

“Then take charge of a commission from me, and say to King Ādarśamukha, ‘At such and such a spot there stands a tree with dry leaves. On this tree sits a crow which wants to ask you what is the reason why it remains upon that tree, and takes no delight in other trees which are green and full of sap.’”

They went farther, and some gazelles saw Daṇḍin and asked him whither he was going. He replied, “I am not going anywhere, but am being taken by these people.”

“Whither?”

“To King Ādarśamukha’s.”

“Then take charge of a commission from us, and ask the king what is the reason why we find no pleasure in any other place than this, though other places possess meadows and green grass.”

They went on farther. A partridge saw them and asked whither they were going, and all went on as above up to the words, “Then take charge of a commission from me also, and ask the king why I call like a partridge at one spot, and at another spot I have a different kind of voice.”

Elsewhere they saw a snake, and just the same as before happened up to the utterance of the words, “Then take charge of a commission from me also, and ask the king why I creep out of my hole with ease, but creep back into it only with pain.”

A snake and an ichneumon, which had quarrelled and were fighting with one another, likewise begged that the king might be asked on what account they, as soon as they saw each other, day by day became angry and began to fight. A young wife also commissioned them to ask wherefore she, so long as she lived in her father’s house, longed after the house of her father-in-law, but now, since she entered her father-in-law’s house, longed after the house of her father.

They went on and came to King Ādarśamukha’s; then Daṇḍin wished the king long life and victory, and took a seat at a certain spot, and the others also seated themselves. After they had paid reverence with their heads to the king’s feet, the king asked Daṇḍin, “Wherefore have you come?”

“O king, I have been brought hither.”

“On what account?”

Daṇḍin related the whole story of why the householder had quarrelled with him. The king said to the householder, “Did you see the oxen, or did you not see them? Did Daṇḍin drive your oxen into the stalls?”

“Yes, O king.”

The king said, “As Daṇḍin gave this man no information, his tongue shall be cut off. As this man did not tie up his oxen, his eyes shall be put out.”

The householder said, “First I lost my oxen, in the second place my eyes are to be put out. Sooner than that, I prefer not to win my suit against Daṇḍin.”

The owner of the mare said, “O king, Daṇḍin has killed my mare.”

“How did he kill it?”

The man told the whole story in full. The king said, “As this man told him he might stop the mare by any means whatsoever, his tongue shall be cut off; but Daṇḍin shall have his hand cut off, because he thought it impossible to stop the mare except by throwing a stone at it.”

The man said to himself, “First my mare died, now my tongue is to be cut off. Sooner than that, I prefer not to gain my suit against Daṇḍin.”

The weaver’s wife told her story in full, and the king said, “Then you shall receive this man as your husband.” She said, “First of all this man killed my husband, and now he is to be my husband. Sooner than that, I prefer not to win my suit against Daṇḍin.”

The carpenter fully explained his case. The king said, “As the carpenter spoke in the middle of the river and let his axe fall, his tongue shall be cut off; but Daṇḍin’s eyes shall be put out, because he, although he saw that the river was deep, asked the carpenter about it.” The carpenter said, “First I lost my axe, now my tongue is to be cut off. Sooner than that, I prefer not to win my suit against Daṇḍin.”

The landlady told her story in full, and the king said, “As the landlady left her child sleeping with a dress completely hiding it, her hand shall be cut off; but Daṇḍin shall have his eyes put out, because he sat down on an unfamiliar seat without making any investigation.”

The landlady said, “First my child died, now my hand is to be cut off. Sooner than that, I prefer not to win my suit against Daṇḍin.”

Daṇḍin presented the crow’s petition. The king said, “O Daṇḍin, say this to the crow: ‘At that spot there is a treasure, which was hidden away under the withered tree by you when you were the head man of the village. Give it to some one or other and then go away, and you will fare well.’”

Daṇḍin executed the commission of the gazelles. The king said, “Tell the gazelles this: ‘O gazelles, there stands a tree on that spot from the top of which honey drops down. Thereby are the meadows and the grass rendered sweet. But as the bees have now been driven out, do not tarry any longer on the spot, otherwise ye will suffer pain beyond measure.’”

Daṇḍin brought forward the request of the partridge. The king said, “Tell the partridge this: ‘Where you possess a partridge’s voice, there no treasure is to be found; but where you have a different voice, there a treasure is to be found. Point out this treasure to some one or other, and then, as it is not right that you should suffer pain beyond measure, betake yourself somewhere else.’”

Daṇḍin mentioned the request of the snake and the ichneumon, and the king said, “Tell both of them this: ‘When ye were men, ye were born as two brothers. One of the two said, “Let us divide our property.” But the other, overcome by envy, would not consent to the division. On that account the one, being too covetous, was born again as a snake; but the other, inasmuch as he was excessively covetous and clung to the property, was born as an ichneumon. Do ye then give these treasures to the Śramaṇas or the Brahmans, and then leave that spot. By that means will ye fare well.’”

Daṇḍin brought forward the snake’s request, and the king said, “Say this to the snake: ‘When hungry and in a state of collapse, you can easily creep out of your hole. But when you have partaken of copious food, then it is only with pain that you can creep back into the hole. If you can content yourself with so much food as is fit for you, you will fare well.’”

Daṇḍin mentioned the young wife’s request, and the king said, “Tell the young wife this: ‘In your father’s house there is a friend. When you are in your father-in-law’s house, you long after that friend; but when you are in your father’s house, you long after your husband. As it is not right that you should suffer pain beyond measure, give up the one place of residence and take up your abode permanently in the other.’”

The young wife and the snake did what they were told to do. The snake and the ichneumon, as well as the crow, made over their treasures to Daṇḍin. The others likewise acted in accordance with the instructions given to them.

IV.

THE CLEVER THIEF. [75]

In olden times there lived in a hill-town a householder, who married a wife of his own caste. When a son was born unto him, he said to his wife, “Goodwife, now that there is born unto us a causer of debts and diminisher of means, I will take merchandise and go to sea.” She replied, “Do so, lord.” So he went to sea with his merchandise, and there he died.

After his wife had got over her mourning, she continued to live, partly supported by her handiwork, and partly by her relatives. Not far from her dwelt a weaver who was skilled in his art, and who by means of adroitness succeeded in everything. Seeing that he, by means of his art, had become well to do, she came to the conclusion that weaving was better than going to sea, for when a man did the latter, he needlessly exposed himself to misfortune. So she said to the weaver, “O brother, teach this nephew of yours to weave.” He replied, “As that is right, I will do so.” The youth became his apprentice, and in a short time learnt the art of weaving, for he was sharp and quick.

As the weaver wore fine clothes, took good baths, and partook of delicate food, the youth said to him one day, “Uncle, how is it that although you and I are occupied in exactly the same kind of work, yet you have fine clothes, good baths, and delicate food, but I never have a chance of such things?” The weaver replied, “Nephew, I carry on two kinds of work. By day I practise weaving, but by night thieving.”

“If that be so, uncle, I too will practise thieving.”

“Nephew, you cannot commit a theft.”

“Uncle, I can.”

The weaver thought he would test him a little, so he took him to the market-place, purchased a hare there, and gave it to him, saying, “Nephew, I shall take a bath and then return home. Meanwhile, go on roasting this hare.” While he was taking his bath, the youth hastily roasted the hare and ate up one of its legs. When the weaver returned from his bath, he said, “Nephew, have you roasted the hare?”

“Yes!”

“Let’s see it, then.”

When the youth had brought the hare, and the weaver saw that it only had three legs, he said, “Nephew, where is the fourth leg gone?”

“Uncle, it is true that hares have four legs, but if the fourth leg is not there, it cannot have gone anywhere.”

The weaver thought, “Although I have long been a thief, yet this lad is a still greater thief.” And he went with the youth and the three-legged hare into a drinking-house and called for liquor. When they had both drunk, the weaver said, “Nephew, the score must be paid by a trick.”

“Uncle, he who has drunk may play a trick; why should I, who have not drunk, do this thing?”

The weaver saw that the lad was a great swindler, so he determined to carry out a theft along with him.

They betook themselves to housebreaking. Once when they had made a hole into a house, and the weaver was going to pass his head through the opening, the youth said, “Uncle, although you are a thief, yet you do not understand your business. The legs should be put in first, not the head. For if the head should get cut off, its owner would be recognised, and his whole family would be plunged into ruin. Therefore put your feet in first.”

When the weaver had done so, attention was called to the fact, and a cry was raised of “Thieves! thieves!” At that cry a great number of people assembled, who seized the weaver by his legs and began to pull him in. The youth, all by himself, could not succeed in pulling him out; but he cut off the weaver’s head and got away with it.

The ministers brought the news to the king, saying, “Your majesty, the thief was himself arrested at the spot where the housebreaking took place; but some one cut off his head and went away with it.” The king said, “O friends, he who has cut off the head and gone away with it is a great thief. Go and expose the headless trunk at the crossway of the main street. Then place yourselves on one side, and arrest whoever embraces it and wails over it, for that will be the thief.” Thereupon those servants of the king exposed the headless trunk at the crossway of the main street, and stationed themselves on one side. Thinking it would be wrong not to embrace his uncle and moan over him, the other thief assumed the appearance of a madman, and took to embracing men, women, carts, horses, bullocks, buffaloes, goats, and dogs. Afterwards, all men thinking he was mad, he pressed the headless trunk to his breast, wailed over it as long as he liked, and then went his way. The king was informed by his men that a madman had pressed the headless trunk to his bosom, and while he held it there had wailed over it, and had then gone away. The king said, “O friends, this man of a surety was the other thief. Ye have acted wrongly in not laying hands upon him. Therefore shall hands be laid upon you.”

The other thief said to himself, “If I do not show honour to my uncle, I shall be acting badly.” So he assumed the appearance of a carter, and drove a cart up to the spot laden with dry wood. When he arrived there, he upset the cart with its load of dry wood, unyoked the oxen, set the cart on fire, and then went away. The headless trunk was consumed by the flames. The king was informed by his men that the corpse was burnt, and they told him all that had taken place. The king said, “O friends, the carter was certainly the thief. Ye have acted wrongly in not laying hands upon him. Therefore shall hands be laid upon you.”

The thief said to himself, “I shall not be acting rightly unless I take soul-offerings to the burial-place for my uncle.” So he assumed the appearance of a Brahman, and wandered from house to house collecting food. From what he collected he made five oblation-cakes, which he left at the burial-place, and then went his way. The king’s men told him that a Brahman had wandered from house to house collecting food, and had then left five oblation-cakes on the spot where the body had been burnt, and had then gone away. The king said, “O friends, that was really the thief. Ye have acted wrongly in not laying hands upon him.”

The thief thought, “I shall be acting badly if I do not throw my uncle’s bones into the Ganges.” So he assumed the appearance of a Kāpālika, [76] went to the place where the corpse had been burnt, smeared his body with ashes, filled a skull with bones and ashes, flung it into the Ganges, and then went his way. When the king had been told by his men all that had happened, he said, “O friends, this was really the thief. Ye have acted wrongly in not laying hands upon him. In order to bring the matter to an end, do ye let it alone. I will lay hands on the man myself.”

The king had a garden laid out at a spot where the Ganges formed a bay, and he set men to watch on both of its shores. In it he stationed his very beautiful daughter on the shore of the river, giving her orders to cry aloud in case any one tried to touch her. To the watchmen also he gave orders to repair to the park as soon as they heard any sound, and if any man was found there, to seize him and bring him before him. Now the thief thought that he must not allow the opportunity of enjoying the king’s daughter to slip out of his hands. So he took an empty pitcher, went down to the shore of the Ganges, and began to draw water. As he was carrying the first pitcherful, the watchmen came running up, thinking that he was the thief, and hit him a blow, in consequence of which the pitcher was broken. As he was carrying the second pitcherful, his pitcher was broken in the same way. But after this had happened three times, the watchmen came to the conclusion that he was a water-carrier, and paid him no more attention. Then the thief covered his head with a pot, and swam down the stream to the bay. There he came ashore and said to the maiden, “If you utter a single cry you shall die.” In her fright she remained silent. He tarried awhile with her, and then went his way. The watchmen did not know what to do, seeing that she had made no noise while the thief tarried with her, and had not begun to cry till he had satisfied himself and gone away; but they gave the king a full account of what had taken place. The king said, “It is a bad business that he was not caught.”

The result of the thief’s visit was that, after eight or nine months had elapsed, the princess bore a son. When the thief heard of this, he decided that he must not miss his son’s birth-feast, so he assumed the appearance of a courtier [and betook himself to the king’s palace]. As he was leaving the palace he called out to the royal servants, “O friends, by order of the king, plunder the merchants’ quarter!” As the servants thought that the king had given permission for the plundering of the merchants’ quarter in honour of his grandson’s birth, they set to work thereat. In consequence of this a great outcry arose, and the king asked what was the meaning of it. When the ministers had supplied him with a full account, the king said, “If this be so, I also have been taken in by him. Wherefore, if I do not punish him, I shall lose my throne.”