And when Jimutavahana was made crown-prince, the ministers of his father, desiring his welfare, came to him and said, "Prince, you must continually worship this wishing-tree invincible by all creatures, [351] which grants all our desires. For, as long as we have this, not even Indra could injure us, much less any other enemy." When Jimutavahana heard this, he inly reflected, "Alas! our predecessors, though they possessed such a divine tree, never obtained from it any fruit worthy of it; some of them asked it for wealth and did nothing more; so the mean creatures made themselves and this n.o.ble tree contemptible. Well, I will make it inserve a design which I have in my mind."

After the n.o.ble prince had formed this resolution, he went to his father, and gained his goodwill by paying him all kinds of attentions, and said to him in private, as he was sitting at ease; "Father, you know that in this sea of mundane existence, all that we behold is unsubstantial, fleeting as the twinkling of the wave. Especially are the twilight, the dawn, and Fortune shortlived, disappearing as soon as revealed; where and when have they been seen to abide? Charity to one's neighbour is the only thing that is permanent in this cycle of change; it produces holiness and fame that bear witness for hundreds of yugas. So with what object, father, do we keep for ourselves such an unfailing wishing-tree, as all these phenomenal conditions are but momentary? Where, I ask, are those our predecessors who kept it so strenuously, exclaiming, 'It is mine, it is mine?' Where is it now to them? For which of them does it exist, and which of them exists for it? So, if you permit, father, I will employ this wishing-tree, that grants all desires, for attaining the matchless fruit of charity to one's neighbour."

His father gave him leave, saying, "So be it!" And Jimutavahana went and said to the wishing-tree, "O G.o.d, thou didst fulfil all the cherished wishes of our predecessors, so fulfil this one solitary wish of mine! Enable me to behold this whole earth free from poverty; depart, and good luck attend thee; thou art bestowed by me on the world that desires wealth." When Jimutavahana had said this with joined hands, a voice came forth from the tree, "Since thou hast relinquished me, I depart." And in a moment the wishing-tree flew up to heaven, and rained wealth on the earth so plenteously, that there was not one poor man left on it. Then the glory of that Jimutavahana spread through the three worlds, on account of that ardent compa.s.sion of his for all creatures.

That made all his relations impatient with envy; and thinking that he and his father would be easy to conquer, as they were deprived of the calamity-averting tree which they had bestowed on the world, they put their heads together and formed a design, and then girded on their harness for war, to deprive Jimutavahana and his father of their realm. When Jimutavahana saw that, he said to his father, "Father, what other has might, when thou hast taken up arms? But what generous man desires to possess a realm, if he must do so by slaying his relations for the sake of this wicked perishable body? So of what use is sovereignty to us? We will depart to some other place, and practise virtue that brings happiness in both worlds. Let these miserable relations that covet our kingdom, joy their fill!" When Jimutavahana said this, his father Jimutaketu answered him, "My son, I desire a realm for your sake only; if you, being penetrated with compa.s.sion, give it up, of what value is it to me, who am old?" When Jimutavahana's father agreed to his proposal, he went with him and his mother to the Malaya mountain, abandoning his kingdom. There he made him a retreat in the valley of a brook, the stream of which was hidden by sandal-wood trees, and spent his time in waiting on his parents. And there he made a friend of the name of Mitravasu, the son of Visvavasu a king of the Siddhas, who dwelt on that mountain.

Now, one day, as Jimutavahana was roaming about, he went into a temple of the G.o.ddess Gauri, that was situated in a garden, in order to worship in the presence of the image. And there he saw a beautiful maiden accompanied by her attendants, playing on the lyre, intent on pleasing the daughter of the mountain. [352] And the deer were listening to the sweet sound of the lyre in the musical performance, standing motionless, as if abashed at beholding the beauty of her eyes. [353] She had a black pupil in her white eye, and it seemed as if it strove to penetrate to the root of her ear. [354] She was thin and elegant in her waist, which appeared as if the Creator had compressed it in his grasp, when making her, and deeply impressed on it the marks of his fingers in the form of wrinkles. The moment Jimutavahana saw that beauty, it seemed as if she entered by his eyes, and stole away his heart. And when the maiden saw him, adorning the garden, producing longing and disturbance of soul, looking as if he were the G.o.d of spring retired to the forest through disgust at the burning up of the body of the G.o.d of Love, she was overpowered with affection, and so bewildered, that her lyre, as if it had been a friend, became distracted and mute.

Then Jimutavahana said to an attendant of hers, "What is your friend's auspicious name, and what family does she adorn?" When the attendant heard that, she said, "She is the sister of Mitravasu, and the daughter of Visvavasu the king of the Siddhas, and her name is Malayavati." When she had said this to Jimutavahana, the discreet woman asked the son of the hermit, who had come with him, his name and descent, and then she made this brief remark to Malayavati, smiling as she spoke, "My friend, why do you not welcome this prince of the Vidyadharas who has come here? For he is a guest worthy of being honoured by the whole world." When she said this, that daughter of the king of the Siddhas was silent, and her face was cast down through shame. Then her attendant said to Jimutavahana, "The princess is bashful, permit me to shew you the proper courtesy in her place." So she alone gave him a garland with the arghya. Jimutavahana, as soon as the garland was given to him, being full of love, took it, and threw it round the neck of Malayavati. And she, looking at him with loving sidelong looks, placed, as it were, a garland of blue lotuses on him.

Thus they went through a sort of silent ceremony of mutual election, and then a maid came and said to that Siddha maiden, "Princess, your mother desires your presence, come at once." When the princess heard that, she withdrew regretfully and reluctantly from the face of her beloved her gaze, that seemed to be fastened to it with the arrows of love, and managed not without a struggle to return to her house. And Jimutavahana, with his mind fixed on her, returned to his hermitage.

And when Malayavati had seen her mother, she went at once and flung herself down on her bed, sick of separation from her beloved. Then her eyes were clouded, as it were by the smoke of the fire of love that burnt in her bosom, she shed floods of tears, and her body was tortured with heat; and though her attendants anointed her with sandal-wood unguent, and fanned her with the leaves of lotuses, she could not obtain any relief on the bed, in the lap of her attendant, or on the ground. Then the day retired somewhere with the glowing evening, and the moon ascending kissed the laughing forehead of the east, and though urged on by love she was too bashful to send a female messenger to her chosen one, or to adopt any of the measures that lovers usually take, but she seemed loth to live. And she was contracted in her heart, and she pa.s.sed that night, which the moon made disagreeable to her, like a lotus which closes at night, and bewilderment hung round her, like a cloud of bees.

And in the meanwhile Jimutavahana, who was tortured at parting with her, though lying on his bed, spent the night as one who had fallen into the hand of Cupid; though his glow of love was of recent birth, a pallid hue began to shew itself in him; and though shame made him dumb, he uttered the pain which love produced.

Next morning he returned with excessive longing to that temple of Gauri, where he had seen the daughter of the king of the Siddhas. And while, distracted with the fire of pa.s.sion, he was being consoled by the hermit's son, who had followed him there, Malayavati also came there; for, as she could not bear separation, she had secretly gone out alone into a solitary place to abandon the body. And the girl, not seeing her lover, who was separated from her by a tree, thus prayed, with eyes full of tears, to the G.o.ddess Gauri, "G.o.ddess, though my devotion to thee has not made Jimutavahana my husband in this life, let him be so in my next life!" As soon as she had said this, she made a noose with her upper garment, and fastened it to the branch of the asoka-tree in front of the temple of Gauri. And she said "Prince Jimutavahana, lord renowned over the whole world, how is it, that, though thou art compa.s.sionate, thou hast not delivered me?" When she had said this, she was proceeding to fasten the noose round her throat, but at that very moment a voice spoken by the G.o.ddess came from the air, "Daughter, do not act recklessly, for the Vidyadhara prince Jimutavahana, the future emperor, shall be thy husband."

When the G.o.ddess said this, Jimutavahana also heard it, and seeing his beloved, he went up to her, and his friend accompanied him. And his friend, the hermit's son, said to the young lady, "See, here is that very bridegroom whom the G.o.ddess has in reality bestowed upon you." And Jimutavahana, uttering many tender loving speeches, removed with his own hand the noose from her neck. Then they seemed to have experienced, as it were, a sudden shower of nectar, and Malayavati remained with bashful eye, drawing lines upon the ground. And at that moment, one of her companions, who was looking for her, suddenly came up to her, and said in joyful accents, "Friend, you are lucky, and you are blessed with good fortune in that you have obtained the very thing which you desired. For, this very day, prince Mitravasu said to the great king, your father, in my hearing, 'Father, that Vidyadhara prince Jimutavahana, the object of the world's reverence, the bestower of the wishing-tree, who has come here, should be complimented by us, as he is our guest; and we cannot find any other match as good as him; so let us pay him a compliment by bestowing on him this pearl of maidens Malayavati.' The king approved, saying 'So be it', and your brother Mitravasu has now gone to the hermitage of the ill.u.s.trious prince on this very errand. And I know that your marriage will take place at once, so come back to your palace, and let this ill.u.s.trious prince also return to his dwelling." When the princess's companion said this to her, she departed slowly from that place, rejoicing and regretful, frequently turning her head.

And Jimutavahana also returned quickly to his hermitage, and heard from Mitravasu, who came there, his commission, which fulfilled all his wishes, and welcomed it with joy. And as he remembered his former births, he gave him an account of one in which Mitravasu was his friend, and Mitravasu's sister his wife. [355] Then Mitravasu was pleased, and informed the parents of Jimutavahana, who were also delighted, and returned, to the joy of his own parents, having executed his mission successfully. And that very day he took Jimutavahana to his own house, and he made preparations for the marriage festival with a magnificence worthy of his magic power, and on that very same auspicious day he celebrated the marriage of his sister to that Vidyadhara prince; and then Jimutavahana, having obtained the desire of his heart, lived with his newly married wife Malayavati. And once on a time, as he was roaming about out of curiosity with Mitravasu on that Malaya mountain, he reached a wood on the sh.o.r.e of the sea. There he saw a great many heaps of bones, and he said to Mitravasu, "What creatures are these whose bones are piled up here?" Then his brother-in-law Mitravasu said to that compa.s.sionate man, "Listen, I will tell you the story of this in a few words. Long, long ago, Kadru the mother of the snakes conquered Vinata, the mother of Garuda, in a treacherous wager, and made her a slave. Through enmity caused thereby, the mighty Garuda, [356] though he had delivered his mother, began to eat the snakes the sons of Kadru. He was thenceforth continually in the habit of entering Patala, and some he smote, some he trampled, and some died of fright.

"When Vasuki, the king of the snakes, saw that, he feared that his race would be annihilated at one fell swoop, so he supplicated Garuda, and made a compact with him, saying, 'King of birds, I will send you one snake every day to this sh.o.r.e of the southern sea for your meal. But you must by no means enter Patala, for what advantage will you gain by destroying the snakes at one blow?' When the king of the snakes said this, the mighty Garuda saw that the proposal was to his advantage, and agreed to it. And from that time forth, the king of birds eats every day, on the sh.o.r.e of the sea, a snake sent by Vasuki. So these are heaps of bones of snakes devoured by Garuda, that have gradually acc.u.mulated in course of time, and come to look like the peak of a mountain."

When Jimutavahana, that treasure-house of courage and compa.s.sion, had heard, inly grieving, this story from the mouth of Mitravasu, he thus answered him, "One cannot help grieving for king Vasuki, who, like a coward, offers up every day his subjects to their enemy with his own hand. As he has a thousand faces and a thousand mouths, why could he not say with one mouth to Garuda, 'Eat me first?' And how could he be so cowardly as to ask Garuda to destroy his race, and so heartless as to be able to listen continually unmoved to the lamentation of the Naga women? [357] And to think that Garuda, though the son of Kasyapa and a hero, and though sanctified by being the bearer of Krishna, should do such an evil deed! Alas the depths of delusion!" When the n.o.ble-hearted one had said this, he formed this wish in his heart, "May I obtain the one essential object in this world by the sacrifice of the unsubstantial body! May I be so fortunate as to save the life of one friendless terrified Naga by offering myself to Garuda!"

While Jimutavahana was going through these reflections, a doorkeeper came from Mitravasu's father to summon them, and Jimutavahana sent Mitravasu home, saying to him, "Go you on first, I will follow." And after he had gone, the compa.s.sionate man roamed about alone, intent on effecting the object he had in view, and he heard afar off a piteous sound of weeping. And he went on, and saw near a lofty rocky slab a young man of handsome appearance plunged in grief: an officer of some monarch seemed to have just brought him and left him there, and the young man was trying to induce by loving persuasions [358]

an old woman, who was weeping there, to return.

And while Jimutavahana was listening there in secret, melted with pity, eager to know who he could be, the old woman, overwhelmed with the weight of her grief, began to look again and again at the young man, and to lament his hard lot in the following words, "Alas Sankhachuda, you that were obtained by me by means of a hundred pangs! Alas, virtuous one! Alas! son, the only scion of our family, where shall I behold you again? Darling, when this moon of your face is withdrawn, your father will fall into the darkness of grief, and how will he live to old age? How will your body, that would suffer even from the touch of the sun's rays, be able to endure the agony of being devoured by Garuda? How comes it that Providence and the king of the snakes were able to find out you, the only son of ill-starred me, though the world of the snakes is wide?" When she thus lamented, the young man her son said to her, "I am afflicted enough, as it is, mother; why do you afflict me more? Return home; this is my last reverence to you, for I know it will soon be time for Garuda to arrive here." When the old woman heard that, she cast her sorrowful eyes all round the horizon, and cried aloud, "I am undone; who will deliver my son?"

In the meanwhile Jimutavahana, that portion of a Bodhisattva, having heard and seen that, said to himself, being profoundly touched with pity, "I see, this is an unhappy snake, of the name of Sankhachuda, who has now been sent by king Vasuki, to serve as food for Garuda. And this is his aged mother, whose only son he is, and who has followed him here out of love, and is lamenting piteously from grief. So, if I cannot save this wretched Naga by offering up this exceedingly perishable body, alas! my birth will have been void of fruit."

When Jimutavahana had gone through these reflections, he went joyfully up to the old woman, and said to her, "Mother, I will deliver your son." When the old woman heard that, she was alarmed and terrified, thinking that Garuda had come, and she cried out, "Eat me, Garuda, eat me!" Then Sankhachuda said, "Mother, do not be afraid, this is not Garuda. There is a great difference between this being who cheers one like the moon, and the terrible Garuda." When Sankhachuda said this, Jimutavahana said, "Mother, I am a Vidyadhara, come to deliver your son; for I will give my body, disguised in clothes, to the hungry Garuda; and do you return home, taking your son with you."

When the old woman heard that, she said, "By no means, for you are my son in a still higher sense, because you have shewn such compa.s.sion for us at such a time." When Jimutavahana heard that, he replied, "You two ought not to disappoint my wish in this matter." And when he persistently urged this, Sankhachuda said to him; "Of a truth, n.o.ble-hearted man, you have displayed your compa.s.sionate nature, but I cannot consent to save my body at the cost of yours; for who ought to save a common stone by the sacrifice of a gem? The world is full of people like myself, who feel pity only for themselves, but people like you, who are inclined to feel pity for the whole world, are few in number; besides, excellent man, I shall never find it in my heart to defile the pure race of Sankhapala, as a spot defiles the disk of the moon."

When Sankhachuda had in these words attempted to dissuade him, he said to his mother, "Mother, go back, and leave this terrible wilderness. Do you not see here this rock of execution, smeared with the clotted gore of snakes, awful as the luxurious couch of Death! But I will go to the sh.o.r.e of the sea, and worship the lord Gokarna, and quickly return, before Garuda comes here." When Sankhachuda had said this, he took a respectful leave of his sadly-wailing mother, and went to pay his devotions to Gokarna.

And Jimutavahana made up his mind that, if Garuda arrived in the meantime, he would certainly be able to carry out his proposed self-sacrifice for the sake of another. And while he was thus reflecting, he saw the trees swaying with the wind of the wings of the approaching king of birds, and seeming, as it were, to utter a cry of dissuasion. So he came to the conclusion that the moment of Garuda's arrival was at hand, and determined to offer up his life for another, he ascended the rock of sacrifice. And the sea, churned by the wind, seemed with the eyes of its bright-flashing jewels to be gazing in astonishment at his extraordinary courage. Then Garuda came along, obscuring the heaven, and swooping down, struck the great-hearted hero with his beak, and carried him off from that slab of rock. And he quickly went off with him to a peak of the Malaya mountain, to eat him there; and Jimutavahana's crest-jewel was torn from his head, and drops of blood fell from him, as he was carried through the air. And while Garuda was eating that moon of the Vidyadhara race, he said to himself; "May my body thus be offered in every birth for the benefit of others, and let me not enjoy heaven or liberation, if they are dissociated from the opportunity of benefiting my neighbour." And while he was saying this to himself, a rain of flowers fell from heaven.

In the meanwhile his crest-jewel, dripping with his blood, had fallen in front of his wife Malayavati. When she saw it, she recognized it with much trepidation as her husband's crest-jewel, and as she was in the presence of her father-in-law and mother-in-law, she shewed it them with tears. And they, when they saw their son's crest-jewel, were at once beside themselves to think what it could mean. Then king Jimutaketu and queen Kanakavati found out by their supernatural powers of meditation the real state of the case, and proceeded to go quickly with their daughter-in-law to the place where Garuda and Jimutavahana were. In the meanwhile Sankhachuda returned from worshipping Gokarna, and saw, to his dismay, that that stone of sacrifice was wet with blood. Then the worthy fellow exclaimed with tears, "Alas! I am undone, guilty creature that I am! Undoubtedly that great-hearted one, in the fulness of his compa.s.sion, has given himself to Garuda in my stead. So I will find out to what place the enemy has carried him off in this moment. If I find him alive, I shall escape sinking in the mire of dishonour." While he said this, he went following up the track of the drops of blood, that he saw lying close to one another on the ground.

In the meanwhile Garuda, who was engaged in devouring Jimutavahana, saw that he was pleased; so he immediately stopped, and said to himself; "Strange! This must be some matchless hero; for the great-hearted one rejoices even while I am devouring him, but does not lose his life. And on so much of his body as is not lacerated, he has all the hairs erect, as it were a coat of mail; and his look is lovingly fixed on me, as if I were his benefactor. So he cannot be a snake; he must be some saint; I will cease from devouring him, and question him." While Garuda was thus musing, Jimutavahana said to him; "King of birds, why do you desist? There is flesh and blood in my body, and you are not satisfied as yet, so go on eating it." When the king of birds heard this, he asked him with much astonishment, "Great-souled one, you are not a snake, so tell me who you are." But Jimutavahana answered Garuda, "In truth I am a Naga; what is the meaning of this question of yours? Do your kind, for who, that is not foolish, would act [359] contrary to the purpose he had undertaken?"

While he was giving this answer to Garuda, Sankhachuda came near, and called out to Garuda from a distance, "Do not do a rash and criminal deed, son of Vinata. What delusion is this that possesses you? He is not a snake; lo! I am the snake designed for you." When Sankhachuda had said this, he came up quickly, and standing between those two, and seeing Garuda bewildered, he went on to say; "Why are you perplexed; do you not see that I have hoods and two tongues; and do you not observe the charming appearance of this Vidyadhara?" While Sankhachuda was saying this, the wife and parents of Jimutavahana came there with speed. And his parents, seeing him mangled, immediately cried out, "Alas, son! Alas, Jimutavahana! Alas, compa.s.sionate one who have given your life for others! How could you, son of Vinata, do this thoughtless deed?" When Garuda heard this, he was grieved, and he said, "What! Have I in my delusion eaten an incarnation of a Bodhisattva? This is that very Jimutavahana, who sacrifices his life for others, the renown of whose glory pervades all these three worlds? So, now that he is dead, the time has arrived for my wicked self to enter the fire. Does the fruit of the poison-tree of unrighteousness ever ripen sweet?" While Garuda was distracted with these reflections, Jimutavahana, having beheld his family, fell down in the agony of his wounds, and died.

Then his parents, tortured with sorrow, lamented, and Sankhachuda again and again blamed his own negligence. But Jimutavahana's wife, Malayavati, looked towards the heaven, and in accents choked with tears thus reproached the G.o.ddess Ambika, who before was pleased with her, and granted her a boon, "At that time, O G.o.ddess Gauri, thou didst promise me that I should have for husband one destined to be paramount sovereign over all the kings of the Vidyadharas, so how comes it that thou hast now falsified thy promise to me?" When she said this, Gauri became visible, and saying "Daughter, my speech was not false," she quickly sprinkled Jimutavahana with nectar from her pitcher. [360] That made the successful hero Jimutavahana at once rise up more splendid than before, with all his limbs free from wounds.

He rose up, and prostrated himself before the G.o.ddess, and then all prostrated themselves, and the G.o.ddess said to him, "My son, I am pleased with this sacrifice of thy body, so I now anoint thee with this hand of mine emperor over the Vidyadharas, and thou shalt hold the office for a kalpa." With these words Gauri sprinkled Jimutavahana with water from her pitcher, and after she had been worshipped, disappeared. And thereupon a heavenly rain of flowers fell on that spot, and the drums of the G.o.ds sounded joyously in the sky.

Then Garuda, bending low, said to Jimutavahana, "Emperor, I am pleased with thee, as thou art an unparalleled hero, since thou, of soul matchlessly generous, hast done this wonderful deed, that excites the astonishment of the three worlds, and is inscribed on the walls of the egg of Brahma. So give me an order, and receive from me whatever boon thou dost desire." When Garuda said this, the great-hearted hero said to him, "Thou must repent, and never again devour the snakes; and let these snakes, whom thou didst devour before, whose bones only remain, return to life." Thereupon Garuda said, "So be it; from this day forth I will never eat the snakes again; heaven forefend! As for those that I ate on former occasions, let them return to life."

Then all the snakes, that he had eaten before, whose bones alone remained, rose up unwounded, restored to life by the nectar of his boon. Then the G.o.ds, the snakes, and the hermit bands a.s.sembled there full of joy, and so the Malaya mountain earned the t.i.tle of the three worlds. And then all the kings of the Vidyadharas heard by the favour of Gauri the strange story of Jimutavahana; and they immediately came and bowed at his feet, and after he had dismissed Garuda, they took him to the Himalayas, accompanied by his rejoicing relations and friends, a n.o.ble emperor whose great inauguration ceremony had been performed by Gauri with her own hands. There Jimutavahana, in the society of his mother and father, and of Mitravasu and Malayavati, and of Sankhachuda, who had gone to his own house, and returned again, long enjoyed the dignity of emperor of the Vidyadharas, rich in jewels, which had been gained by his marvellous and extraordinarily heroic action.

Having told this very n.o.ble and interesting tale, the Vetala proceeded to put another question to king Trivikramasena, "So tell me, which of those two was superior in fort.i.tude, Sankhachuda or Jimutavahana? And the conditions are those which I mentioned before." When king Trivikramasena heard this question of the Vetala's, he broke his silence, through fear of a curse, and said with calm composure, "This behaviour was nowise astonishing in Jimutavahana, as he had acquired this virtue in many births; but Sankhachuda really deserves praise, for that, after he had escaped death, he ran after his enemy Garuda, who had found another self-offered victim [361] and had gone a long distance with him, and importunately offered him his body."

When that excellent Vetala had heard this speech of that king's, he left his shoulder and again went to his own place, and the king again pursued him as before.

NOTE.

Oesterley remarks that the substance of this story is told, in the eleventh chapter of the Vikra macharitam, of king Vikramaditya. A Rakshasa carried off so many persons from the city of Pala that the inhabitants agreed to give him one human being every day. The king takes the place of one of these victims, and the Rakshasa is so much affected by it, that he promises not to demand any more victims. A similar contest in generosity is found in the 2nd Tale of the Siddhi-kur, Julg, p. 60, but the end of the story is quite different. (Oesterley's Baital Pachisi, pp. 205-207.) The story in the Siddhi-kur is probably the 5th Tale in Sagas from the Far East; "How the Serpent-G.o.ds were propitiated."

CHAPTER XCI.

(Vetala 17.)

Then the brave king Trivikramasena went back once more to the asoka-tree, and taking the Vetala from it, carried him off on his shoulder. And when he had set out, the Vetala said to him from his perch on his shoulder, "Listen, king; to cheer your toil, I will tell you the following tale."

Story of Unmadini. [362]

There was a city of the name [363] of Kanakapura situated on the bank of the Ganges, in which the bounds of virtue were never transgressed, and which was inaccessible to the demon Kali. In it there was a king rightly named Yasodhana, who, like a rocky coast, protected the earth against the sea of calamity. When Destiny framed him, she seemed to blend together the moon and the sun, for, though he delighted the world, the heat of his valour was scorching, and the circle of his territory never waned. This king was unskilled [364] in slandering his neighbour, but skilled in the meaning of the Sastras, he shewed poverty in crime, not in treasure and military force. His subjects sang of him as one afraid only of sin, covetous only of glory, averse to the wives of others, all compact of valour, generosity, and love.

In that capital of that sovereign there was a great merchant, and he had an unmarried daughter, named Unmadini. Whoever there beheld her, was at once driven mad by the wealth of her beauty, which was enough to bewilder even the G.o.d of love himself. And when she attained womanhood, her politic father, the merchant, went to king Yasodhana, and said to him, "King, I have a daughter to give in marriage, who is the pearl of the three worlds; I dare not give her away to any one else, without informing your Majesty. For to your Majesty belong all the jewels of the whole earth, so do me the favour of accepting or rejecting her."

When the king heard this report from the merchant, he sent off, with due politeness, his own Brahmans, to see whether she had auspicious marks or not. The Brahmans went and saw that matchless beauty of the three worlds, and were at once troubled and amazed, but when they had recovered their self-control, they reflected; "If the king gets hold of this maiden the kingdom is ruined, for his mind will be thrown off its balance by her, and he will not regard his kingdom, so we must not tell the king that she possesses auspicious marks." When they had deliberated to this effect, [365] they went to the king, and said falsely to him, "She has inauspicious marks." Accordingly the king declined to take that merchant's daughter as his wife.

Then, by the king's orders, the merchant, the father of the maiden Unmadini, gave her in marriage to the commander of the king's forces, named Baladhara. And she lived happily with her husband in his house, but she thought that she had been dishonoured by the king's abandoning her on account of her supposed inauspicious marks.

And as time went on, the lion of spring came to that place, slaying the elephant of winter, that, with flowering jasmine-creepers for tusks, had ravaged the thick-cl.u.s.tering lotuses. And it sported in the wood, with luxuriant cl.u.s.ters of flowers for mane, and with mango-buds for claws. At that season king Yasodhana, mounted on an elephant, went out to see the high festival of spring in that city of his. And then a warning drum was beaten, to give notice to all matrons to retire, as it was apprehended that the sight of his beauty might prove their ruin.

When Unmadini heard that drum, she shewed herself to the king on the roof of her palace, to revenge the insult he had offered her by refusing her. And when the king saw her, looking like a flame shooting up from the fire of love, when fanned by spring and the winds from the Malaya mountain, he was sorely troubled. And gazing on her beauty, that pierced deep into his heart, like a victorious dart of Cupid, he immediately swooned. His servants managed to bring him round, and when he had entered his palace, he found out from them, by questioning them, that this was the very beauty who had been formerly offered to him, and whom he had rejected. Then the king banished from his realm those who reported that she had inauspicious marks, and thought on her with longing, night after night, saying to himself, "Ah! how dull of soul and shameless is the moon, that he continues to rise, while her spotless face is there, a feast to the eyes of the world!" Thinking thus in his heart, the king, being slowly wasted by the smouldering fires of love, pined away day by day. But through shame he concealed the cause of his grief, and with difficulty was he induced to tell it to his confidential servants, who were led by external signs to question him. Then they said; "Why fret yourself? Why do you not take her to yourself, as she is at your command?" But the righteous sovereign would not consent to follow their advice.

Then Baladhara, the commander-in-chief, heard the tidings, and being truly devoted to him, he came and flung himself at the feet of his sovereign, and made the following pet.i.tion to him, "King, you should look upon this female slave as your slave-girl, not as the wife of another; and I bestow her freely upon you, so deign to accept my wife. Or I will abandon her in the temple here, then, king, there will be no sin in your taking her to yourself, as there might be, if she were a matron." When the commander-in-chief persistently entreated the king to this effect, the king answered him with inward wrath, "How could I, being a king, do such an unrighteous deed? If I desert the path of right, who will remain loyal to his duty? And how can you, though devoted to me, urge me to commit a crime, which will bring momentary pleasure, [366] but cause great misery in the next world? And if you desert your lawful wife, I shall not allow your crime to go unpunished, for who in my position could tolerate such an outrage on morality? So death is for me the best course." With these words the king vetoed the proposal of the commander-in-chief, for men of n.o.ble character lose their lives sooner than abandon the path of virtue. And in the same way the resolute-minded monarch rejected the pet.i.tion of his citizens, and of the country-people, who a.s.sembled, and entreated him to the same effect.

Accordingly, the king's body was gradually consumed by the fire of the grievous fever of love, and only his name and fame remained. [367]

But the commander-in-chief could not bear the thought that the king's death had been brought about in this way, so he entered the fire; for the actions of devoted followers are inexplicable. [368]