Hindu literature : Comprising The Book of good counsels, Nala and Damayanti, The Ramayana, and Sakoontala
Hindu literature : Comprising The Book of good counsels, Nala and Damayanti, The Ramayana, and Sakoontala-2
The Deer thereon placed himself exactly as the Crow suggested, and was
very soon espied by the husbandman, whose eyes opened with joy at the
sight.
'Aha!' said he, 'the fellow has died of himself,' and so speaking, he
released the Deer from the snare, and proceeded to gather and lay aside
his nets. At that instant Sharp-sense uttered a loud croak, and the Deer
sprang up and made off. And the club which the husbandman flung after
him in a rage struck Small-wit, the Jackal (who was close by), and
killed him. Is it not said, indeed?—
'In years, or moons, or half-moons three,
Or in three days—suddenly,
Knaves are shent—true men go free,'
"Thou seest, then," said Golden-skin, "there can be no friendship
between food and feeder."
"I should hardly," replied the Crow, "get a large breakfast out of your
worship; but as to that indeed you have nothing to fear from me. I am
not often angry, and if I were, you know—
'Anger comes to noble natures, but leaves there no strife or storm:
Plunge a lighted torch beneath it, and the ocean grows not warm.'
"Then, also, thou art such a gad-about," objected the King.
"Maybe," answered Light o' Leap; "but I am bent on winning thy
friendship, and I will die at thy door of fasting if thou grantest it
not. Let us be friends! for
'Noble hearts are golden vases—close the bond true metals make;
Easily the smith may weld them, harder far it is to break.
Evil hearts are earthen vessels—at a touch they crack a-twain,
And what craftsman's ready cunning can unite the shards again?'
And then, too,
'Good men's friendships may be broken, yet abide they friends at heart;
Snap the stem of Luxmee's lotus, and its fibres will not part.'
"Good sir," said the King of the Mice, "your conversation is as pleasing
as pearl necklets or oil of sandal-wood in hot weather. Be it as you
will"—and thereon King Golden-skin made a treaty with the Crow, and
after gratifying him with the best of his store reëntered his hole. The
Crow returned to his accustomed perch:—and thenceforward the time
passed in mutual presents of food, in polite inquiries, and the most
unrestrained talk. One day Light o' Leap thus accosted Golden-skin:—
"This is a poor place, your Majesty, for a Crow to get a living in. I
should like to leave it and go elsewhere."
"Whither wouldst thou go?" replied the King; they say,
'One foot goes, and one foot stands,
When the wise man leaves his lands.'
"And they say, too," answered the Crow,
'Over-love of home were weakness; wheresoever the hero come,
Stalwart arm and steadfast spirit find or win for him a home.
Little recks the awless lion where his hunting jungles lie—
When he enters it be certain that a royal prey shall die,'
"I know an excellent jungle now."
"Which is that?" asked the Mouse-king.
"In the Nerbudda woods, by Camphor-water," replied the Crow. "There is
an old and valued friend of mine lives there—Slow-toes his name is, a
very virtuous Tortoise; he will regale me with fish and good things."
"Why should I stay behind," said Golden-skin, "if thou goest? Take me
also."
Accordingly, the two set forth together, enjoying charming converse upon
the road. Slow-toes perceived Light o' Leap a long way off, and hastened
to do him the guest-rites, extending them to the Mouse upon Light o'
Leap's introduction.
"Good Slow-toes," said he, "this is Golden-skin, King of the Mice—pay
all honor to him—he is burdened with virtues—a very jewel-mine of
kindnesses. I don't know if the Prince of all the Serpents, with his two
thousand tongues, could rightly repeat them." So speaking, he told the
story of Speckle-neck. Thereupon Slow-toes made a profound obeisance to
Golden-skin, and said, "How came your Majesty, may I ask, to retire to
an unfrequented forest?"
"I will tell you," said the King. "You must know that in the town of
Champaka there is a college for the devotees. Unto this resorted daily a
beggar-priest, named Chudakarna, whose custom was to place his
begging-dish upon the shelf, with such alms in it as he had not eaten,
and go to sleep by it; and I, so soon as he slept, used to jump up, and
devour the meal. One day a great friend of his, named Vinakarna, also a
mendicant, came to visit him; and observed that while conversing, he
kept striking the ground with a split cane, to frighten me. 'Why don't
you listen?' said Vinakarna. 'I am listening!' replied the other; 'but
this plaguy mouse is always eating the meal out of my begging-dish,'
Vinakarna looked at the shelf and remarked, 'However can a mouse jump as
high as this? There must be a reason, though there seems none. I guess
the cause—the fellow is well off and fat,' With these words Vinakarna
snatched up a shovel, discovered my retreat, and took away all my hoard
of provisions. After that I lost strength daily, had scarcely energy
enough to get my dinner, and, in fact, crept about so wretchedly, that
when Chudakarna saw me he fell to quoting—
'Very feeble folk are poor folk; money lost takes wit away:—
All their doings fail like runnels, wasting through the summer day.'
"Yes!" I thought, "he is right, and so are the sayings—
'Wealth is friends, home, father, brother—title to respect and fame;
Yea, and wealth is held for wisdom—that it should be so is shame,'
'Home is empty to the childless; hearts to them who friends deplore:—
Earth unto the idle-minded; and the three worlds to the poor.'
'I can stay here no longer; and to tell my distress to another is out of
the question—altogether out of the question!—
'Say the sages, nine things name not: Age, domestic joys and woes,
Counsel, sickness, shame, alms, penance; neither Poverty disclose.
Better for the proud of spirit, death, than life with losses told;
Fire consents to be extinguished, but submits not to be cold.'
'Verily he was wise, methought also, who wrote—
'As Age doth banish beauty,
As moonlight dies in gloom,
As Slavery's menial duty
Is Honor's certain tomb;
As Hari's name and Hara's
Spoken, charm sin away,
So Poverty can surely
A hundred virtues slay.'
'And as to sustaining myself on another man's bread, that,' I mused,
'would be but a second door of death. Say not the books the same?—
'Half-known knowledge, present pleasure purchased with a future woe,
And to taste the salt of service—greater griefs no man can know.'
'And herein, also—
'All existence is not equal, and all living is not life;
Sick men live; and he who, banished, pines for children, home, and wife;
And the craven-hearted eater of another's leavings lives,
And the wretched captive waiting for the word of doom survives;
But they bear an anguished body, and they draw a deadly breath,
And life cometh to them only on the happy day of death.'
Yet, after all these reflections, I was covetous enough to make one
more attempt on Chudakarna's meal, and got a blow from the split cane
for my pains. 'Just so,' I said to myself, 'the soul and organs of the
discontented want keeping in subjection. I must be done with
discontent:—
'Golden gift, serene Contentment! have thou that, and all is had; Thrust
thy slipper on, and think thee that the earth is leather-clad.'
'All is known, digested, tested; nothing new is left to learn When the
soul, serene, reliant, Hope's delusive dreams can spurn.'
'And the sorry task of seeking favor is numbered in the miseries of
life—
'Hast thou never watched, a-waiting till the great man's door unbarred?
Didst thou never linger parting, saying many a last sad word? Spak'st
thou never word of folly, one light thing thou wouldst recall? Rare and
noble hath thy life been! fair thy fortune did befall!'
'No!' exclaimed I, 'I will do none of these; but, by retiring into the
quiet and untrodden forest, I will show my discernment of real good and
ill. The holy Books counsel it—
'True Religion!—'tis not blindly prating what the priest may prate, But
to love, as God hath loved them, all things, be they small or great; And
true bliss is when a sane mind doth a healthy body fill; And true
knowledge is the knowing what is good and what is ill.'
"So came I to the forest, where, by good fortune and this good friend, I
met much kindness; and by the same good fortune have encountered you,
Sir, whose friendliness is as Heaven to me. Ah! Sir Tortoise,
'Poisonous though the tree of life be, two fair blossoms grow thereon:
One, the company of good men; and sweet songs of Poet's, one.'
"King!" said Slow-toes, "your error was getting too much, without
giving. Give, says the sage—
'Give, and it shall swell thy getting; give, and thou shalt safer keep:
Pierce the tank-wall; or it yieldeth, when the water waxes deep.'
And he is very hard upon money-grubbing: as thus—
'When the miser hides his treasure in the earth, he doeth well;
For he opens up a passage that his soul may sink to hell,'
And thus—
'He whose coins are kept for counting, not to barter nor to give,
Breathe he like a blacksmith's bellows, yet in truth he doth not live.'
It hath been well written, indeed,
'Gifts, bestowed with words of kindness, making giving doubly dear:—
Wisdom, deep, complete, benignant, of all arrogancy clear;
Valor, never yet forgetful of sweet Mercy's pleading prayer;
Wealth, and scorn of wealth to spend it—oh! but these be virtues rare!'
"Frugal one may be," continued Slow-toes; "but not a niggard like the
Jackal—
'The Jackal-knave, that starved his spirit so,
And died of saving, by a broken bow.'
"Did he, indeed," said Golden-skin; "and how was that?"
"I will tell you," answered Slow-toes:—
The Story of the Dead Game and the Jackal
"In a town called 'Well-to-Dwell' there lived a mighty hunter, whose
name was 'Grim-face,' Feeling a desire one day for a little venison, he
took his bow, and went into the woods; where he soon killed a deer. As
he was carrying the deer home, he came upon a wild boar of prodigious
proportions. Laying the deer upon the earth, he fixed and discharged an
arrow and struck the boar, which instantly rushed upon him with a roar
louder than the last thunder, and ripped the hunter up. He fell like a
tree cut by the axe, and lay dead along with the boar, and a snake also,
which had been crushed by the feet of the combatants. Not long
afterwards, there came that way, in his prowl for food, a Jackal, named
'Howl o' Nights,' and cast eyes on the hunter, the deer, the boar, and
the snake lying dead together. 'Aha!' said he,' what luck! Here's a
grand dinner got ready for me! Good fortune can come, I see, as well as
ill fortune. Let me think:—the man will be fine pickings for a month;
the deer with the boar will last two more; the snake will do for
to-morrow; and, as I am very particularly hungry, I will treat myself
now to this bit of meat on the bow-horn,' So saying, he began to gnaw it
asunder, and the bow-string slipping, the bow sprang back, and resolved
Howl o' Nights into the five elements by death. That is my story,"
continued Slow-toes, "and its application is for the wise:—
'Sentences of studied wisdom, nought avail they unapplied;
Though the blind man hold a lantern, yet his footsteps stray aside.'
The secret of success, indeed, is a free, contented, and yet
enterprising mind. How say the books thereon?—
'Wouldst thou know whose happy dwelling Fortune entereth unknown?
His, who careless of her favor, standeth fearless in his own;
His, who for the vague to-morrow barters not the sure to-day—
Master of himself, and sternly steadfast to the rightful way:
Very mindful of past service, valiant, faithful, true of heart—
Unto such comes Lakshmi smiling—comes, and will not lightly part.'
"What indeed," continued Slow-toes, "is wealth, that we should prize it,
or grieve to lose it?—
'Be not haughty, being wealthy; droop not, having lost thine all;
Fate doth play with mortal fortunes as a girl doth toss her ball.'
It is unstable by nature. We are told—
'Worldly friendships, fair but fleeting, shadows of the clouds at noon
Women, youth, new corn, and riches—these be pleasures passing soon.'
And it is idle to be anxious; the Master of Life knows how to sustain
it. Is it not written?—
'For thy bread be not o'er thoughtful—God for all hath taken thought:
When the babe is born, the sweet milk to the mother's breast is brought.
He who gave the swan her silver, and the hawk her plumes of pride,
And his purples to the peacock—He will verily provide.'
"Yes, verily," said Slow-toes, "wealth is bad to handle, and better left
alone; there is no truer saying than this—
'Though for good ends, waste not on wealth a minute;
Mud may be wiped, but wise men plunge not in it.'
Hearing the wisdom of these monitions, Light o' Leap broke out, 'Good
Slow-toes! thou art a wise protector of those that come to thee; thy
learning comforts my enlightened friend, as elephants drag elephants
from the mire,' And thus, on the best of terms, wandering where they
pleased for food, the three lived there together.
One day it chanced that a Deer named Dapple-back, who had seen some
cause of alarm in the forest, came suddenly upon the three in his
flight. Thinking the danger imminent, Slow-toes dropped into the water,
King Golden-skin slipped into his hole, and Light o' Leap flew up into
the top of a high tree. Thence he looked all round to a great distance,
but could discover nothing. So they all came back again, and sat down
together. Slow-toes welcomed the Deer.
'Good Deer,' said he, 'may grass and water never fail thee at thy need.
Gratify us by residing here, and consider this forest thine own.'
'Indeed,' answered Dapple-back, 'I came hither for your protection,
flying from a hunter; and to live with you in friendship is my greatest
desire.'
'Then the thing is settled,' observed Golden-skin.
'Yes! yes!' said Light o' Leap, 'make yourself altogether at home!'
So the Deer, charmed at his reception, ate grass and drank water, and
laid himself down in the shade of a Banyan-tree to talk. Who does not
know?—
'Brunettes, and the Banyan's shadow,
Well-springs, and a brick-built wall.
Are all alike cool in the summer,
And warm in the winter—all.'
'What made thee alarmed, friend Deer?' began Slow-toes. 'Do hunters ever
come to this unfrequented forest?'
'I have heard,' replied Dapple-back, 'that the Prince of the Kalinga
country, Rukmangada, is coming here. He is even now encamped on the
Cheenab River, on his march to subjugate the borders; and the hunters
have been heard to say that he will halt to-morrow by this very lake of
"Camphor-water." Don't you think, as it is dangerous to stay, that we
ought to resolve on something?'
'I shall certainly go to another pool,' exclaimed Slow-toes.
'It would be better,' answered the Crow and Deer together.
'Yes!' remarked the King of the Mice, after a minute's thought; 'but how
is Slow-toes to get across the country in time? Animals like our
amphibious host are best in the water; on land he might suffer from his
own design, like the merchant's son—
'The merchant's son laid plans for gains,
And saw his wife kissed for his pains.'
'How came that about?' asked all. "I'll tell you," answered Golden-skin.
The Prince and the Wife of the Merchant's Son
"In the country of Kanouj there was a King named Virasena, and he made
his son viceroy of a city called Virapoora. The Prince was rich,
handsome, and in the bloom of youth. Passing through the streets of his
city one day, he observed a very lovely woman, whose name was
Lávanyavati—i.e., the Beautiful—the wife of a merchant's son. On
reaching his palace, full of her charms and of passionate admiration for
them, he despatched a message to her, and a letter, by a female
attendant:—who wonders at it?—
'Ah! the gleaming, glancing arrows of a lovely woman's eye!
Feathered with her jetty lashes, perilous they pass us by:—
Loosed at venture from the black bows of her arching brow they part,
All too penetrant and deadly for an undefended heart.'
Now Lávanyavati, from the moment she saw the Prince, was hit with the
same weapon of love that wounded him; but upon hearing the message of
the attendant, she refused with dignity to receive his letter.
'I am my husband's,' she said,'and that is my honor; for—
'Beautiful the Koíl seemeth for the sweetness of his song,
Beautiful the world esteemeth pious souls for patience strong;
Homely features lack not favor when true wisdom they reveal,
And a wife is fair and honored while her heart is firm and leal.'
What the lord of my life enjoins, that I do.'
'Is such my answer?' asked the attendant.
'It is,' said Lávanyavati.
Upon the messenger reporting her reply to the Prince, he was in despair.
'The God of the five shafts has hit me,' he exclaimed, 'and only her
presence will cure my wound.'
'We must make her husband bring her, then,' said the messenger.
'That can never be,' replied the Prince.
'It can,' replied the messenger—
'Fraud may achieve what force would never try:—
The Jackal killed the Elephant thereby.'
'How was that?' asked the Prince. The Slave related:—
The Story of the Old Jackal and the Elephant
"In the forest of Brahma lived an Elephant, whose name was
'White-front.' The Jackals knew him, and said among themselves, 'If this
great brute would but die, there would be four months' food for us, and
plenty, out of his carcase.' With that an old Jackal stood up, and
pledged himself to compass the death of the Elephant by his own wit.
Accordingly, he sought for 'White-front,' and, going up to him, he made
the reverential prostration of the eight members, gravely saluting him.
'Divine creature,' said he, 'vouchsafe me the regard of one look.'
'Who art thou?' grunted the Elephant,'and whence comest thou?'
'I am only a Jackal,' said the other; 'but the beasts of the forest are
convinced that it is not expedient to live without a king, and they have
met in full council, and despatched me to acquaint your Royal Highness
that on you, endowed with so many lordly qualities, their choice has
fallen for a sovereign over the forest here; for—
'Who is just, and strong, and wise?
Who is true to social ties?
He is formed for Emperies.
Let your Majesty, therefore, repair thither at once, that the moment of
fortunate conjunction may not escape us.' So saying he led the way,
followed at a great pace by White-front, who was eager to commence his
reign.
"Presently the Jackal brought him upon a deep slough, into which he
plunged heavily before he could stop himself.
'Good master Jackal,' cried the Elephant,'what's to do now? I am up to
my belly in this quagmire.'
'Perhaps your Majesty,' said the Jackal, with an impudent laugh, 'will
condescend to take hold of the tip of my brush with your trunk, and so
get out.'
'Then White-front, the Elephant, knew that he had been deceived; and
thus he sank in the slime, and was devoured by the Jackals. Hence,'
continued the attendant, 'is why I suggested stratagem to your
Highness,'
Shortly afterwards, by the Slave's advice, the Prince sent for the
merchant's son (whose name was Charudatta), and appointed him to be near
his person; and one day, with the same design, when he was just come
from the bath, and had on his jewels, he summoned Charudatta, and said—
"I have a vow to keep to Gauri—bring hither to me every evening for a
month some lady of good family, that I may do honor to her, according to
my vow; and begin to-day."
Charudatta in due course brought a lady of quality, and, having
introduced her, retired to watch the interview. The Prince, without even
approaching his fair visitor, made her the most respectful obeisances,
and dismissed her with gifts of ornaments, sandal-wood, and perfumes,
under the protection of a guard. This made Charudatta confident, and
longing to get some of these princely presents he brought his own wife
next evening. When the Prince recognized the charming Lávanyavati—the
joy of his soul—he sprang to meet her, and kissed and caressed her
without the least restraint. At sight of this the miserable Charudatta
stood transfixed with despair—the very picture of wretchedness'——
'And you too, Slow-toes—but where is he gone?' abruptly asked King
Golden-skin.
Now Slow-toes had not chosen to wait the end of the story, but was gone
before, and Golden-skin and the others followed him up in some anxiety.
The Tortoise had been painfully travelling along, until a hunter, who
was beating the wood for game, had overtaken him. The fellow, who was
very hungry, picked him up, fastened him on his bow-stick, and set off
for home; while the Deer, the Crow, and the Mouse, who had witnessed
the capture, followed them in terrible concern. 'Alas!' cried the
Mouse-king, 'he is gone!—and such a friend!
'Friend! gracious word!—the heart to tell is ill able
Whence came to men this jewel of a syllable.'
'Let us,' continued he to his companions, 'let us make one attempt, at
least, to rescue Slow-toes before the hunter is out of the wood!'
'Only tell us how to do it,' replied they.
'Do thus,' said Golden-skin: 'let Dapple-back hasten on to the water,
and lie down there and make himself appear dead; and do you, Light o'
Leap, hover over him and peck about his body. The hunter is sure to put
the Tortoise down to get the venison, and I will gnaw his bonds.'
'The Deer and the Crow started at once; and the hunter, who was sitting
down to rest under a tree and drinking water, soon caught sight of the
Deer, apparently dead. Drawing his wood-knife, and putting the Tortoise
down by the water, he hastened to secure the Deer, and Golden-skin, in
the meantime, gnawed asunder the string that held Slow-toes, who
instantly dropped into the pool. The Deer, of course, when the hunter
got near, sprang up and made off, and when he returned to the tree the
Tortoise was gone also. "I deserve this," thought he—
'Whoso for greater quits his gain,
Shall have his labor for his pain;
The things unwon unwon remain,
And what was won is lost again.'
And so lamenting, he went to his village. Slow-toes and his friends,
quit of all fears, repaired together to their new habitations, and there
lived happily.
Then spake the King Sudarsana's sons, "We have heard every word, and are
delighted; it fell out just as we wished."
"I rejoice thereat, my Princes," said Vishnu-Sarman; "may it also fall
out according to this my wish—
"Lakshmi give you friends like these!
Lakshmi keep your lands in ease!
Set, your sovereign thrones beside,
Policy, a winsome bride!
And He, whose forehead-jewel is the moon
Give peace to us and all—serene and soon."
FOOTNOTES:
THE PARTING OF FRIENDS
Then spake the Royal Princes to Vishnu-Sarman,
"Reverend Sir! we have listened to the 'Winning of Friends,' we would
now hear how friends are parted."
"Attend, then," replied the Sage, "to 'the Parting of Friends,' the
first couplet of which runs in this wise—
'The Jackal set—of knavish cunning full—
At loggerheads the Lion and the Bull.'
"How was that?" asked the sons of the Rajah.
Vishnu-Sarman proceeded to relate:—
The Story of the Lion, the Jackals, and the Bull
"In the Deccan there is a city called Golden-town, and a wealthy
merchant lived there named Well-to-do. He had abundant means, but as
many of his relations were even yet richer, his mind was bent: upon
outdoing them by gaining more. Enough is never what we have—
'Looking down on lives below them, men of little store are great;
Looking up to higher fortunes, hard to each man seems his fate.'
And is not wealth won by courage and enterprise?—
'As a bride, unwisely wedded, shuns the cold caress of eld,
So, from coward souls and slothful, Lakshmi's favors turn repelled.'
'Ease, ill-health, home-keeping, sleeping, woman-service, and content—
In the path that leads to greatness these be six obstructions sent.'
And wealth that increases not, diminishes—a little gain is so far
good—
'Seeing how the soorma wasteth, seeing how the ant-hill grows,
Little adding unto little—live, give, learn, as life-time goes.'
'Drops of water falling, falling, falling, brim the chatty o'er;
Wisdom comes in little lessons—little gains make largest store.'
Moved by these reflections Well-to-do loaded a cart with wares of all
kinds, yoked two bulls to it, named Lusty-life and Roarer, and started
for Kashmir to trade. He had not gone far upon his journey when in
passing through a great forest called Bramble-wood, Lusty-life slipped
down and broke his foreleg. At sight of this disaster Well-to-do fell
a-thinking, and repeated—
'Men their cunning schemes may spin—
God knows who shall lose or win.'
Comforting himself with such philosophy, Well-to-do left Lusty-life
there, and went on his way. The Bull watched him depart, and stood
mournfully on three legs, alone in the forest. 'Well, well,' he thought,
'it is all destiny whether I live or die:—
'Shoot a hundred shafts, the quarry lives and flies—not due to death;
When his hour is come, a grass-blade hath a point to stop his breath.'
As the days passed by, and Lusty-life picked about in the tender forest
grass, he grew wonderfully well, and fat of carcase, and happy, and
bellowed about the wood as though it were his own. Now, the reigning
monarch of the forest was King Tawny-hide the Lion, who ruled over the
whole country absolutely, by right of having deposed everybody else. Is
not might right?—
'Robes were none, nor oil of unction, when the King of Beasts was crowned:—
'Twas his own fierce roar proclaimed him, rolling all his kingdom round.'
One morning, his Majesty, being exceedingly thirsty, had repaired to the
bank of the Jumna to drink water, and just as he was about to lap it,
the bellow of Lusty-life, awful as the thunder of the last day, reached
the imperial ears. Upon catching the sound the King retreated in
trepidation to his own lair, without drinking a drop, and stood there in
silence and alarm revolving what it could mean. In this position he was
observed by the sons of his minister, two jackals named Karataka and
Damanaka, who began to remark upon it.
'Friend Karataka,' said the last,'what makes our royal master slink away
from the river when he was dying to drink?'
'Why should we care?' replied Karataka. 'It's bad enough to serve him,
and be neglected for our pains—
'Oh, the bitter salt of service!—toil, frost, fire, are not so keen:—
Half such heavy penance bearing, tender consciences were clean.'
'Nay, friend! never think thus,' said Damanaka—
'What but for their vassals,
Elephant and man—
Swing of golden tassels,
Wave of silken fan—
But for regal manner
That the "Chattra" brings,
Horse, and foot, and banner—
What would come of kings?'
'I care not,' replied Karataka; 'we have nothing to do with it, and
matters that don't concern us are best left alone. You know the story of
the Monkey, don't you?'—
'The Monkey drew the sawyer's wedge, and died:—
Let meddlers mark it, and be edified.'
'No!' said Damanaka. 'How was it?'
'In this way,' answered Karataka:—
The Story of the Monkey and the Wedge
"In South Behar, close by the retreat of Dhurmma, there was an open plot
of ground, upon which a temple was in course of erection, under the
management of a man of the Káyeth caste, named Subhadatta. A carpenter
upon the works had partly sawed through a long beam of wood, and wedged
it open, and was gone away, leaving the wedge fixed. Shortly afterwards
a large herd of monkeys came frolicking that way, and one of their
number, directed doubtless by the Angel of death, got astride the beam,
and grasped the wedge, with his tail and lower parts dangling down
between the pieces of the wood. Not content with this, in the mischief
natural to monkeys, he began to tug at the wedge; till at last it
yielded to a great effort and came out; when the wood closed upon him,
and jammed him all fast. So perished the monkey, miserably crushed; and
I say again—
'Let meddlers mark it, and be edified.'
'But surely,' argued Damanaka, 'servants are bound to watch the
movements of their masters!'
'Let the prime minister do it, then,' answered Karataka; 'it is his
business to overlook things, and subordinates shouldn't interfere in the
department of their chief. You might get ass's thanks for it—
'The Ass that hee-hawed, when the dog should do it,
For his lord's welfare, like an ass did rue it.'
Damanaka asked how that happened, and Karataka related:—
The Story of the Washerman's Jackass
"There was a certain Washerman at Benares, whose name was Carpúrapataka,
and he had an Ass and a Dog in his courtyard; the first tethered, and
the last roaming loose. Once on a time, when he had been spending his
morning in the society of his wife, whom he had just married, and had
fallen to sleep in her arms, a robber entered the house, and began to
carry off his goods. The Ass observed the occupation of the thief, and
was much concerned.
'Good Dog,' said he, 'this is thy matter: why dost thou not bark aloud,
and rouse the master?'
'Gossip Ass,' replied the Dog, 'leave me alone to guard the premises. I
can do it, if I choose; but the truth is, this master of ours thinks
himself so safe lately that he clean forgets me, and I don't find my
allowance of food nearly regular enough. Masters will do so; and a
little fright will put him in mind of his defenders again.'
'Thou scurvy cur!' exclaimed the Ass—
'At the work-time, asking wages—is it like a faithful herd?'
'Thou extreme Ass!' replied the Dog.
'When the work's done, grudging wages—is that acting like a lord?'
'Mean-spirited beast,' retorted the Ass, 'who neglectest thy master's
business! Well, then, I at least will endeavor to arouse him; it is no
less than religion,
'Serve the Sun with sweat of body; starve thy maw to feed the flame;
Stead thy lord with all thy service; to thy death go, quit of blame.'
So saying, he put forth his very best braying. The Washerman sprang up
at the noise, and missing the thief, turned in a rage upon the Ass for
disturbing him, and beat it with a cudgel to such an extent that the
blows resolved the poor animal into the five elements of death. 'So
that,' continued Karataka, 'is why I say, Let the prime minister look to
him. The hunting for prey is our duty—let us stick to it, then. And
this,' he said, with a meditative look, 'need not trouble us to-day; for
we have a capital dish of the royal leavings.'
'What!' said Damanaka, rough with rage, 'dost thou serve the King for
the sake of thy belly? Why take any such trouble to preserve an
existence like thine?—
'Many prayers for him are uttered whereon many a life relies;
'Tis but one poor fool the fewer when the gulping Raven dies.'
For assisting friends, and defeating enemies also, the service of kings
is desirable. To enter upon it for a mere living makes the thing low
indeed. There must be dogs and elephants; but servants need not be like
hungry curs, while their masters are noble. What say the books?
'Give thy Dog the merest mouthful, and he crouches at thy feet,
Wags his tail, and fawns, and grovels, in his eagerness to eat;
Bid the Elephant be feeding, and the best of fodder bring;
Gravely—after much entreaty—condescends that mighty king.'
'Well, well!' said Karataka; 'the books are nothing to us, who are not
councillors.'
'But we may come to be,' replied Damanaka; 'men rise, not by chance or
nature, but by exertions—