Story of Somaprabha and her three suitors.

In Ujjayini there lived an excellent Brahman, the dear dependent and minister of king Punyasena, and his name was Harisvamin. That householder had by his wife, who was his equal in birth, an excellent son like himself, Devasvamin by name. And he also had born to him a daughter, famed for her matchless beauty, rightly named Somaprabha. [298] When the time came for that girl to be given away in marriage, as she was proud of her exceeding beauty, she made her mother give the following message to her father and brother, "I am to be given in marriage to a man possessed of heroism, or knowledge, or magic power; [299] you must not give me in marriage to any other, if you value my life."

When her father Harisvamin heard this, he was full of anxiety, trying to find for her a husband coming under one of these three categories. And while so engaged, he was sent as amba.s.sador by king Punyasena to negotiate a treaty with a king of the Dekkan, who had come to invade him. And when he had accomplished the object, for which he was sent, a n.o.ble Brahman, who had heard of the great beauty of his daughter, came and asked him for her hand. Harisvamin said to the Brahman suitor, "My daughter will not have any husband who does not possess either valour, knowledge, or magic power; so tell me which of the three you possess." When Harisvamin said this to the Brahman suitor, he answered, "I possess magic power." Thereupon Harisvamin rejoined, "Then shew me your magic power." So that possessor of supernatural power immediately prepared by his skill a chariot that would fly through the air. And in a moment he took Harisvamin up in that magic chariot, and shewed him heaven and all the worlds. And he brought him back delighted to that very camp of the king of the Dekkan, to which he had been sent on business. Then Harisvamin promised his daughter to that man possessed of magic power, and fixed the marriage for the seventh day from that time.

And in the meanwhile another Brahman, in Ujjayini, came and asked Harisvamin's son Devasvamin for the hand of his sister. Devasvamin answered, "She does not wish to have a husband who is not possessed of either knowledge, or magic power, or heroism." Thereupon he declared himself to be a hero. And when the hero displayed his skill in the use of missiles and hand-to-hand weapons, Devasvamin promised to give him his sister, who was younger than himself. And by the advice of the astrologers he told him, as his father had told the other suitor, that the marriage should take place on that very same seventh day, and this decision he came to without the knowledge of his mother.

At that very same time a third person came to his mother, the wife of Harisvamin, and asked her privately for the hand of her daughter. She said to him, "Our daughter requires a husband who possesses either knowledge, or heroism, or magic power;" and he answered, "Mother, I possess knowledge." And she, after questioning him about the past and the future, promised to give the hand of her daughter to that possessor of supernatural knowledge on that same seventh day.

The next day Harisvamin returned home, and told his wife and his son the agreement he had made to give away his daughter in marriage; and they told him separately the promises that they had made; and that made him feel anxious, as three bridegrooms had been invited.

Then, on the wedding-day, three bridegrooms arrived in Harisvamin's house, the man of knowledge, the man of magic power, and the man of valour. And at that moment a strange thing took place: the intended bride, the maiden Somaprabha, was found to have disappeared in some inexplicable manner, and though searched for, was not found. Then Harisvamin said eagerly to the possessor of knowledge; "Man of knowledge, now tell me quickly where my daughter is gone." When the possessor of knowledge heard that, he said, "The Rakshasa Dhumrasikha has carried her off to his own habitation in the Vindhya forest." When the man of knowledge said this to Harisvamin, he was terrified and said, "Alas! Alas! How are we to get her back, and how is she to be married?" When the possessor of magic power heard that, he said, "Be of good cheer! I will take you in a moment to the place where the possessor of knowledge says that she is." After he had said this, he prepared, as before, a chariot that would fly through the air, provided with all kinds of weapons, and made Harisvamin, and the man of knowledge, and the brave man get into it, and in a moment he carried them to the habitation of the Rakshasa in the Vindhya forest, which had been described by the man of knowledge. The Rakshasa, when he saw what had happened, rushed out in a pa.s.sion, and then the hero, who was put forward by Harisvamin, challenged him to fight. Then a wonderful fight took place between that man and that Rakshasa, who were contending for a woman with various kinds of weapons, like Rama and Ravana. And in a short time the hero cut off the head of that Rakshasa with a crescent-headed arrow, though he was a doughty champion. When the Rakshasa was slain, they carried off Somaprabha whom they found in his house, and they all returned in the chariot of the suitor who possessed magic power.

When they had reached Harisvamin's house, the marriage did not go forward, though the auspicious moment had arrived, but a great dispute arose between the man of knowledge, the man of magic power, and the man of valour. The man of knowledge said, "If I had not known where this maiden was, how would she have been discovered when concealed?--So she ought to be given to me." But the man of magic power said, "If I had not made this chariot that can fly through the air, how could you all have gone and returned in a moment like G.o.ds? And how could you, without a chariot, have fought with a Rakshasa, who possessed a chariot? So you ought to give her to me for I have secured by my skill this auspicious moment." The brave man said, "If I had not slain the Rakshasa in fight, who would have brought this maiden back here in spite of all your exertions? So she must be given to me." While they went on wrangling in this style, Harisvamin remained for a moment silent, being perplexed in mind.

"So tell me, king, to whom she ought to have been given, and if you know and do not say, your head shall split asunder." When Trivikramasena heard this from the Vetala, he abandoned his silence, and said to him; "She ought to be given to the brave man; for he won her by the might of his arms, at the risk of his life, slaying that Rakshasa in combat. But the man of knowledge and the man of magic power were appointed by the Creator to serve as his instruments; are not calculators and artificers always subordinate a.s.sistants to others?"

When the Vetala heard this answer of the king's, he left his seat on the top of his shoulder, and went, as before, to his own place; and the king again set out to find him, without being in the slightest degree discomposed.

NOTE.

The above story bears a slight resemblance to No. 71 in Grimm's Kinder- und Hausmarchen, Sechse kommen durch die ganze Welt; see the note in the 3rd volume of the third edition, page 120. Cp. also the 74th story in Laura Gonzenbach's Sicilianische Marchen, Part II, page 96, and the 45th story in the same book, Part I, p. 305, with Kohler's notes. The 9th story in Sagas from the Far East, p. 105, is no doubt the Mongolian form of the tale in our text. It bears a very strong resemblance to the 47th tale in the Pentamerone of Basile, (see Liebrecht's translation, Vol. II, p. 212,) and to Das weise Urtheil in Waldau's Bohmische Marchen. In this tale there are three rival brothers; one has a magic mirror, another a magic chariot, a third three magic apples. The first finds out that the lady is desperately ill, the second takes himself and his rivals to her, the third raises her to life. An old man decides that the third should have her, as his apples were consumed as medicine, while the other two have still their chariot and mirror respectively. Oesterley refers us to Benfey's articles in Ausland, 1858, pp. 969, 995, 1017, 1038, 1067, in which this story is treated in a masterly and exhaustive manner. He compares a story in the Siddhikur, No. 1, p. 55, in Julg's version, which seems to be the one above referred to in Sagas from the Far East. The 22nd story in the Persian Tutinamah (Iken, p. 93,) which is found with little variation in the Turkish Tutinamah (Rosen, II, p. 165,) closely resembles the story in our text. The only difference is that a magic horse does duty for a magic chariot, and the lady is carried away by fairies. There is a story in the Tutinamah which seems to be made up of No. 2, No. 5 and No. 21 in this collection. [No. 22, in Somadeva.] It is No. 4 in the Persian Tutinamah, (Iken, p. 37,) and is also found in the Turkish version, (Rosen I, p. 151.) The lady is the work of four companions. A carpenter hews a figure out of wood, a goldsmith adorns it with gems, a tailor clothes it, and a monk animates it with life. They quarrel about her, and lay the matter before a Dervish. He avows that he is her husband. The head of the police does the same, and the Kazi, to whom it is then referred, takes the same line. At last the matter is referred to a divinity, and the lady is again reduced to wood. This form is the exaggeration of a story in Ardschi Bordschi translated by Benfey in Ausland, 1858, p. 845, (cp. Gottinger gel. Anz. 1858, p. 1517, Benfey's Panchatantra, Vol. I, p. 490 and ff.) A shepherd boy hews a female figure out of wood, a second paints her, a third improves her [by giving her wit and understanding, according to Sagas from the Far East,] a fourth gives her life. Naran Dakini awards her to the last. (Oesterley's Baital Pachisi, pp. 192-194). The story in Ardschi Bordschi will be found in Sagas from the Far East, pp. 298-303. The story which Oesterley quotes from the Tutinamah is still found in Bannu, as appears from a review of Mr. Thorburn's book in Melusine (1878), p. 179. The reviewer, M. Loys Brueyre, tells us that it is found in the Bohemian tales of Erben under the t.i.tle, Wisdom and Fortune.

CHAPTER Lx.x.x.

(Vetala 6.)

Then king Trivikramasena again went to the asoka-tree, and carried off from it that Vetala on his shoulder, as before, and began to return with him swiftly in silence. And on the way the Vetala again said to him, "King, you are wise and brave, therefore I love you, so I will tell you an amusing tale, and mark well my question."

Story of the lady who caused her brother and husband to change heads.

There was a king famous on the earth by the name of Yasahketu, and his capital was a city of the name of Sobhavati. And in that city there was a splendid temple of Gauri, [300] and to the south of it there was a lake, called Gauritirtha. And every year, during a feast on the fourteenth day of the white fortnight of the month ashadha, large crowds came there to bathe from every part of the world. [301]

And once there came there to bathe, on that day, a young washerman of the name of Dhavala, from a village called Brahmasthala. He saw there the virgin daughter of a man named Suddhapata, a girl called Madanasundari, who had come to bathe in the sacred water. [302] His heart was captivated by that girl who eclipsed the beauty of the moon, and after he had enquired her name and family, he went home love-smitten. There he remained fasting and restless without her, but when his mother asked him the cause, he told her the truth about his desire. [303] She went and told her husband Vimala, and when he came, and saw his son in that state, he said to him, "Why are you so despondent, my son, about an object so easily attained? Suddhapata will give you his daughter, if I ask him. For we are equal to him in family, wealth, and occupation; I know him and he knows me; so this is not a difficult matter for me to arrange." With these words Vimala comforted his son, and induced him to take food, and other refreshments, and the next day he went with him to the house of Suddhapata. And there he asked his daughter in marriage for his son Dhavala, and Suddhapata courteously promised to give her. And so, after ascertaining the auspicious moment, he gave his daughter Madanasundari, who was of equal birth with Dhavala, in marriage to him the next day. And after Dhavala had been married, he returned a happy man to his father's house, together with his wife, who had fallen in love with him at first sight.

And one day, while he was living there in happiness, his father-in-law's son, the brother of Madanasundari, came there. All received him courteously, [304] and his sister embraced him and welcomed him, and his connections asked him how he was, and at last, after he had rested, he said to them, "I have been sent here by my father, to invite Madanasundari and his son-in-law, since we are engaged in a festival in honour of the G.o.ddess Durga." And all his connections and their family approved his speech, and entertained him that day with appropriate meats and drinks.

Early the next day Dhavala set out for his father-in-law's house, with Madanasundari and his brother-in-law. And he reached with his two companions the city of Sobhavati, and he saw the great temple of Durga, when he arrived near it; and then he said to his wife and brother-in-law, in a fit of pious devotion, "Come and let us visit the shrine of this awful G.o.ddess." When the brother-in-law heard this, he said to him, in order to dissuade him, "How can so many of us approach the G.o.ddess empty-handed?" Then Dhavala said, "Let me go alone, and you can wait outside." When he had said this, he went off to pay his respects to the G.o.ddess.

When he had entered her temple, and had worshipped, and had meditated upon that G.o.ddess, who with her eighteen mighty arms had smitten terrible Danavas, and who had flung under the lotus of her foot and trampled to pieces the Asura Mahisha, a train of pious reflection was produced in his mind by the impulse of Destiny, and he said to himself, "People worship this G.o.ddess with various sacrifices of living creatures, so why should not I, to obtain salvation, appease her with the sacrifice of myself?" After he had said this to himself, he took from her inner shrine, which was empty of worshippers, a sword which had been long ago offered to her by some pilgrims, and, after fastening his own head by his hair to the chain of the bell, he cut it off with the sword, and when cut off, it fell on the ground.

And his brother-in-law, after waiting a long time, without his having returned, went into that very temple of the G.o.ddess to look for him. But when he saw his sister's husband lying there decapitated, he also was bewildered, and he cut off his head in the same way with that very same sword.

And when he too did not return, Madanasundari was distracted in mind, and then she too entered the temple of the G.o.ddess. And when she had gone in, and seen her husband and her brother in such a state, she fell on the ground, exclaiming, "Alas! what is the meaning of this? I am ruined." And soon she rose up, and lamented those two that had been so unexpectedly slain, and said to herself, "Of what use is this life of mine to me now?" and being eager to abandon the body, she said to that G.o.ddess, "O thou that art the chief divinity presiding over blessedness, chast.i.ty, and holy rule, though occupying half the body of thy husband Siva, [305] thou that art the fitting refuge of all women, that takest away grief, why hast thou robbed me at once of my brother and my husband? This is not fitting on thy part towards me, for I have ever been a faithful votary of thine. So hear one piteous appeal from me who fly to thee for protection. I am now about to abandon this body which is afflicted with calamity, but grant that in all my future births, whatever they may be, these two men may be my husband and brother."

In these words she praised and supplicated the G.o.ddess, and bowed before her again, and then she made a noose of a creeper and fastened it to an asoka-tree. And while she was stretching out her neck, and putting it into the noose, the following words resounded from the expanse of air: "Do not act rashly, my daughter! I am pleased with the exceeding courage which thou hast displayed, though a mere girl; let this noose be, but join the heads of thy husband and thy brother to their bodies, and by virtue of my favour they shall both rise up alive." [306]

When the girl Madanasundari heard this, she let the noose drop, and went up to the corpses in great delight, but being confused, and not seeing in her excessive eagerness what she was doing, she stuck, as fate would have it, her husband's head on to her brother's trunk, and her brother's head on to her husband's trunk, and then they both rose up alive, with limbs free from wound, but from their heads having been exchanged their bodies had become mixed together. [307]

Then they told one another what had befallen them, and were happy, and after they had worshipped the G.o.ddess Durga, the three continued their journey. But Madanasundari, as she was going along, saw that she had changed their heads, and she was bewildered and puzzled as to what course to take.

"So tell me, king, which of the two people, thus mixed together, was her husband; and if you know and do not tell, the curse previously denounced shall fall on you!" When king Trivikramasena heard this tale and this question from the Vetala, he answered him as follows: "That one of the two, on whom her husband's head was fixed, was her husband, for the head is the chief of the limbs, and personal ident.i.ty depends upon it." When the king had said this, the Vetala again left his shoulder unperceived, and the king again set out to fetch him.

NOTE.

Oesterley remarks that the Hindi version of this story has been translated into French by Garcin de Ta.s.sy in the Journal des Savants, 1836, p. 415, and by Lancereau in the Journal Asiatique, Ser. 4, Tom. 19, pp. 390-395. In the Tutinamah, (Persian, No. 24, in Iken, No. 102; Turkish, Rosen, II, p. 169) the washerman is replaced by an Indian prince, his friend by a priest, and the rest is the same as in our text. That Goethe took that part of his Legende, which is based on this tale, from Iken's translation, has been shewn by Benfey in Orient und Occident, Vol. I, p. 719. (Oesterley's Baital Pachisi, pp. 195, 196.)

CHAPTER Lx.x.xI.

Then king Trivikramasena went back to the asoka-tree, and again found the Vetala there, and took him on his shoulder. As he was going along with him, the Vetala said to him on the way, "King, listen to me, I will tell you a story to make you forget your fatigue."

Story of the king who married his dependent to the Nereid.

There is a city on the sh.o.r.e of the eastern sea, named Tamralipti; in that city there was a king of the name of Chandasinha; he turned away his face from the wives of others, but not from battle-fields; he carried off the fortune of his foes, but not the wealth of his neighbours.

Once on a time a popular Rajput of the Dekkan, named Sattvasila, came to the palace-gate of that king. And he announced himself, and then, on account of his poverty, he and some other Rajputs tore a ragged garment in the presence of that king. Thus he became a dependent, [308] and remained there for many years perpetually serving the king, but he never received any reward from him. And he said to himself, "If I have been born in a royal race, why am I so poor? And considering my poverty is so great, why did the Creator make my ambition so vast? For though I serve the king so diligently, and my followers are sorely afflicted, and I have long been pining with hunger, he has never, up to the present time, deigned to notice me."

While such were the reflections of the dependent, the king one day went out to hunt. And he went, surrounded with horses and footmen, to the forest of wild beasts, while his dependent ran in front of him bearing a stick. And after he had hunted for some time, he followed up closely a boar that had escaped, and soon he reached another distant wood. And in that vast jungle, where the path was obscured with leaves and gra.s.s, the king lost the boar, and he became exhausted, and was unable to find his way. And the dependent was the only one that kept up with him, running on foot, regardless of his own life, tortured with hunger and thirst, though the king was mounted upon a horse swift as the wind. And the king, when he saw that the dependent had followed him, in spite of his being in such a condition, said to him in a kind voice, "Do you know the way by which we came?" When the dependent heard that, he put his hands together in an att.i.tude of supplication, and said, "I do know it, but let my lord rest here for some time. For the sun, which is the centre-jewel of the girdle of the sky-bride, is now burning fiercely with all its rays flickering forth." When the king heard this, he said to him graciously, "Then see if you can find water anywhere here." The dependent said, "I will," and he climbed up a high tree, and saw a river, and then he came down again, and led the king to it. And he took the saddle off his horse, and let him roll, and gave him water and mouthfuls of gra.s.s, and so refreshed him. And when the king had bathed, he brought out of a corner of his garment delicious [309] amalaka fruits, and washed them, and gave them to him. And when the king asked where he got them, he said to him kneeling with the amalakas in his hand, "Ten years have now pa.s.sed since I, living continually on these fruits, have been performing, in order to propitiate my sovereign, the vow of a hermit that does not dwell in solitude." When the king heard that, he answered him, "It cannot be denied that you are rightly named Sattvasila." And being filled with compa.s.sion and shame, he said to himself; "Fie on kings who do not see who among their servants is comfortable or miserable, and fie on their courtiers who do not inform them of such matters!" Such were the king's thoughts, but he was at last induced by the importunity of the dependent to take two amalakas from him. And after eating them and drinking water, he rested for a while in the company of the dependent, having satiated his hunger and thirst on fruits and water.

Then his dependent got his horse ready, and he mounted it, and the dependent went in front of him to shew him the way, but however much the king entreated him, he would not get up on the horse behind him, and so the king returned to his own city, meeting his army on the way. There he proclaimed the devotion of the dependent, and he loaded him with wealth and territories, and did not consider even then that he had recompensed him as he deserved. Then Sattvasila became a prosperous man, and discarding the life of a dependent, he remained henceforth about the person of king Chandasinha.

And one day the king sent him to the island of Ceylon, to demand for him the hand of the king's daughter. He had to go there by sea; so he worshipped his patron divinity, and went on board a ship with the Brahmans, whom the king appointed to accompany him. And when the ship had gone half-way, there suddenly rose from the sea a banner that excited the wonder of all in the ship. It was so lofty that its top touched the clouds, it was made of gold, and emblazoned like a waving flag of various hues. And at that very moment a bank of clouds suddenly arose, and began to pour down rain, and a mighty wind blew. And the ship was forced on to that flag by the rain and the wind, and thus fastened to it, as elephant-drivers force on an elephant and bind him to a post. And then the flag began to sink with the ship in the billowy sea.

And then the Brahmans in the ship, distracted with fear, called on their king Chandasinha, crying out for help. And when Sattvasila heard their cries, so great was his devotion to his master that he could not restrain himself, but with his sword in his hand, and his upper garment girded round him, the brave fellow daringly plunged into the billows, following the flag, in order to counteract the violence of the sea, not suspecting the real cause. And as soon as he had plunged in, that ship was carried to a distance by the wind and waves, and all the people, who were in it, fell into the mouths of the sea-monsters.

And when Sattvasila, who had fallen into the sea, began to look about him, he found that he was in a splendid city, [310] but he could not see the sea anywhere. That city glittered with palaces of gold supported on pillars of jewels, and was adorned with gardens in which were tanks with steps of precious gems, and in it he beheld the temple of Durga, lofty as mount Meru, with many walls of costly stone, and with a soaring banner studded with jewels. There he prostrated himself before the G.o.ddess, and praised her with a hymn, and sat down wondering whether it was all the effect of enchantment.

And in the meanwhile a heavenly maiden suddenly opened a door, and issued from a bright enclosure in front of the temple of the G.o.ddess. Her eyes were like blue lotuses, her face full-blown, her smile like a flower, her body was soft like the taper fibre of a water-lily's root, so that she resembled a moving lotus-lake. And waited on by a thousand ladies, she entered the inner shrine of the G.o.ddess and the heart of Sattvasila at the same time. And after she had worshipped, she left the inner shrine of the G.o.ddess, but nothing would make her leave the heart of Sattvasila. And she entered once more into the shining enclosure, and Sattvasila entered after her.