The Little Clay Cart [Mṛcchakaṭika]
by Sūdraka · English · Gutenberg #21020 · 344,419 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: The Little Clay Cart [Mṛcchakaṭika]
Author: Sūdraka
Translator: Arthur W. Ryder
Release date: April 10, 2007 [eBook #21020]
Language: English
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/21020
Credits: Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Bruce Albrecht, Suzanne
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LITTLE CLAY CART [MṚCCHAKAṬIKA] ***
Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Bruce Albrecht, Suzanne
Lybarger, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
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HARVARD ORIENTAL SERIES
WITH THE COÖPERATION OF VARIOUS SCHOLARS
BY
CHARLES ROCKWELL LANMAN
WALES PROFESSOR OF SANSKRIT IN HARVARD UNIVERSITY
Volume Nine
CAMBRIDGE, MASSACHUSETTS
Published by Harvard University
1905
* * * * *
THE LITTLE CLAY CART
[MRCCHAKATIKA]
A Hindu Drama
ATTRIBUTED TO KING SHUDRAKA
TRANSLATED FROM THE ORIGINAL SANSKRIT AND PRAKRITS
INTO ENGLISH PROSE AND VERSE
BY
ARTHUR WILLIAM RYDER, PH.D.
INSTRUCTOR IN SANSKRIT IN HARVARD UNIVERSITY
CAMBRIDGE, MASSACHUSETTS
Published by Harvard University
1905
COPYRIGHT, 1905, BY HARVARD UNIVERSITY
* * * * *
TO MY FATHER
WILLIAM HENRY RYDER
* * * * *
CONTENTS
NOTE BY THE EDITOR OF THE SERIES
PREFACE BY THE TRANSLATOR
INTRODUCTION
THE AUTHOR AND THE PLAY
THE TRANSLATION
AN OUTLINE OF THE PLOT
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
TRANSLATION OF THE LITTLE CLAY CART
PROLOGUE
ACT I. THE GEMS ARE LEFT BEHIND
ACT II. THE SHAMPOOER WHO GAMBLED
ACT III. THE HOLE IN THE WALL
ACT IV. MADANIKA AND SHARVILAKA
ACT V. THE STORM
ACT VI. THE SWAPPING OF THE BULLOCK-CARTS
ACT VII. ARYAKA'S ESCAPE
ACT VIII. THE STRANGLING OF VASANTASENA
ACT IX. THE TRIAL
ACT X. THE END
EPILOGUE
DEPARTURES OF THE TRANSLATION FROM PARAB'S TEXT
* * * * *
NOTE BY THE EDITOR
With _the battle of the Sea of Japan another turning-point in the
brief course of recorded human history has been reached. Whatever the
outcome of the negotiations for peace, one thing is sure: for better,
for worse, and whether we will or no, the West must know the East, and
the East must know the West. With that knowledge will inevitably come
an interchange of potent influences, of influences that will affect
profoundly the religion and morals, the philosophy, the literature,
the art, in short, all the elements that make up the civilizations of
the two hemispheres. It is a part of the responsibility resting upon
the molders and leaders of the thought and life of our time, and upon
our Universities in particular, to see to it that these new forces,
mighty for good or for evil, are directed aright._
_The fruitfulness of those scions of Western civilization which the
Japanese have grafted upon their own stock is to-day the admiration
of the world. In our wonder, let us not forget that that stock is the
growth of centuries, and that it is rooted in a soil of racial character
informed by ethical ideals which we are wont to regard, with
arrogant self-complacency, as exclusively proper to Christianity, but
which were, in fact, inculcated twenty-four centuries ago through
precept and example by Gotama the Enlightened, or, as the Hindus
called him, Gotama the Buddha. It has often been said that India
has never influenced the development of humanity as a whole. Be that
as it may, it now seems no less probable than strange that she is yet
destined to do so, on the one hand, indirectly, through the influence
of Indian Buddhism upon Japan, and, on the other, directly, by the
diffusion in the West of a knowledge of her sacred writings, especially
those of Vedantism and Buddhism. To judge the East aright,
we must know not only what she is, but also how she has become what
she is; know, in short, some of the principal phases of her spiritual
history as they are reflected in her ancient literature, especially that
of India. To interpret to the West the thought of the East, to bring
her best and noblest achievements to bear upon our life_,--_that is to-day
the problem of Oriental philology._
_The Harvard Oriental Series embodies an attempt to present to Western
scholars, in trustworthy texts and translations, some of the greatest
works of the Hindu literature and philosophy and religion, together
with certain instruments, such as the Vedic Concordance or the History
of the Beast-fable, for their critical study or elucidation. Some
account of the volumes completed or in progress may be found at the
end of this book. Dr. Ryder, passing by for the present the more
momentous themes of religion and philosophy, has in this volume
attempted to show what the Indian genius, in its strength and in its
weakness, could do in the field of literature pure and simple. The
timeliness of the Series as a whole is an eloquent tribute to the
discernment of my loved and unforgotten pupil and friend, Henry Clarke
Warren. In him were united not only the will and the ability to
establish such a publication as this, but also the learning and
insight which enabled him to forecast in a general way its
possibilities of usefulness. He knew that the East had many a lesson
to teach the West; but whether the lesson be repose of spirit or
hygiene of the soldier in the field, whether it be the divine
immanence or simplicity of life or the overcoming of evil with good,
he knew that the first lesson to be taught us was the teachable habit
of mind._
C. R. L.
June, 1905
PREFACE
The text chosen as the basis of this translation is that given in the
edition of Parab,[1] and I have chosen it for the following reasons.
Parab's edition is the most recent, and its editor is a most admirable
Sanskrit scholar, who, it seems to me, has in several places
understood the real meaning of the text better than his predecessors.
This edition contains the comment of Prthvidhara; it is far freer from
misprints than many texts printed in India, and, in respect to
arrangement and typography, it is clear and convenient. Besides, it is
easily obtainable and very cheap. This last consideration may prove to
be of importance, if the present translation should be found helpful
in the class-room. For the sake of cataloguers, I note that the proper
transliteration of the Sanskrit names of this title according to the
rules laid down by the American Library Association in its Journal for
1885, is as follows: Mrcchakatika; Çudraka; Prthvidhara; Kaçinatha
Panduranga Paraba; Nirnaya-Sagara.
The verse-numeration of each act follows the edition of Parab;
fortunately, it is almost identical with the numeration in the editions
of Godabole and Jivananda. For the convenience of those
who may desire to consult this book in connection with Stenzler's
edition, I have added references at the top of the page to that edition
as well as to the edition of Parab. In these references, the
letter P. stands for Parab, the letter S. for Stenzler.
There are a few passages in which I have deviated from Parab's
text. A list of such passages is given on page 177. From this list
I have omitted a few minor matters, such as slight misprints and
what seem to me to be errors in the _chaya_; these matters, and the
passages of unusual interest or difficulty, I shall treat in a series
of notes on the play, which I hope soon to publish in the Journal
of the American Oriental Society. It is hardly necessary to give
reasons for the omission of the passage inserted by Nilakantha
in the tenth act (Parab. 288.3-292.9). This passage is explicitly
declared by tradition to be an interpolation by another hand, and
it is clearly shown to be such by internal evidence. It will be noticed
that the omission of this passage causes a break in the verse-numeration
of the tenth act, where the verse-number 54 is followed
by the number 58.
Of the books which have been useful to me in the present work,
I desire to mention especially the editions of Stenzler, Godabole,
Jivananda Vidyasagara, and Parab; the commentaries of Prthvidhara,
Lalladiksita, and Jivananda; further, the translations of
Wilson, Regnaud, and Böhtlingk.
A number of friends were kind enough to read my manuscript,
and each contributed something. I wish to mention especially my
friend and pupil, Mr. Walter E. Clark, of Harvard University,
whose careful reading of both text and translation was fruitful of
many good suggestions.
But by far my greatest personal indebtedness is to Professor
Lanman, whose generous interest in my work has never flagged
from the day when I began the study of Sanskrit under his guidance.
He has criticized this translation with the utmost rigor; indeed,
the pages are few which have not witnessed some improvement
from his hand. It is to him also that I owe the accuracy
and beauty which characterize the printed book: nothing has been
hard enough to weary him, nothing small enough to escape him.
And more than all else, I am grateful to him for the opportunity
of publishing in the Harvard Oriental Series; for this series is that
enterprise which, since the death of Professor Whitney, most
honorably upholds in this country the standards of accurate scholarship
set by the greatest of American Sanskritists.
ARTHUR W. RYDER
_Harvard University_
_May 23, 1905_
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 1: The Mrichchhakatika of Sudraka with the commentary of
Prthvidhara. Edited by Kashinath Pandurang Parab. Bombay: Nirnaya-Sagar
Press. 1900. Price 1 Rupee. It may be had of O. Harrassowitz in Leipzig
for 2-1/2 Marks.]
INTRODUCTION
I. THE AUTHOR AND THE PLAY
Concerning the life, the date, and the very identity[2] of
King Shudraka, the reputed author of The Little Clay Cart,
we are curiously ignorant. No other work is ascribed to him, and
we have no direct information about him, beyond the somewhat
fanciful statements of the Prologue to this play. There are, to be
sure, many tales which cluster about the name of King Shudraka,
but none of them represents him as an author. Yet our very lack of
information may prove, to some extent at least, a disguised blessing.
For our ignorance of external fact compels a closer study of
the text, if we would find out what manner of man it was who
wrote the play. And the case of King Shudraka is by no means
unique in India; in regard to every great Sanskrit writer,--so bare
is Sanskrit literature of biography,--we are forced to concentrate
attention on the man as he reveals himself in his works. First, however,
it may be worth while to compare Shudraka with two other
great dramatists of India, and thus to discover, if we may, in what
ways he excels them or is excelled by them.
Kalidasa, Shudraka, Bhavabhuti--assuredly, these are the greatest
names in the history of the Indian drama. So different are these
men, and so great, that it is not possible to assert for any one of
them such supremacy as Shakspere holds in the English drama.
It is true that Kalidasa's dramatic masterpiece, the Shakuntala,
is the most widely known of the Indian plays. It is true that the
tender and elegant Kalidasa has been called, with a not wholly fortunate
enthusiasm, the "Shakspere of India." But this rather exclusive
admiration of the Shakuntala results from lack of information
about the other great Indian dramas. Indeed, it is partly due
to the accident that only the Shakuntala became known in translation
at a time when romantic Europe was in full sympathy with
the literature of India.
Bhavabhuti, too, is far less widely known than Kalidasa; and for this
the reason is deeper-seated. The austerity of Bhavabhuti's style, his
lack of humor, his insistent grandeur, are qualities which prevent his
being a truly popular poet. With reference to Kalidasa, he holds a
position such as Aeschylus holds with reference to Euripides. He will
always seem to minds that sympathize with his grandeur[3] the greatest
of Indian poets; while by other equally discerning minds of another
order he will be admired, but not passionately loved.
Yet however great the difference between Kalidasa, "the grace
of poetry,"[4] and Bhavabhuti, "the master of eloquence,"[5] these two
authors are far more intimately allied in spirit than is either of
them with the author of The Little Clay Cart. Kalidasa and Bhavabhuti
are Hindus of the Hindus; the Shakuntala and the Latter
Acts of Rama could have been written nowhere save in India:
but Shudraka, alone in the long line of Indian dramatists, has a
cosmopolitan character. Shakuntala is a Hindu maid, Madhava is
a Hindu hero; but Sansthanaka and Maitreya and Madanika are
citizens of the world. In some of the more striking characteristics of
Sanskrit literature--in its fondness for system, its elaboration of
style, its love of epigram--Kalidasa and Bhavabhuti are far truer
to their native land than is Shudraka. In Shudraka we find few
of those splendid phrases in which, as the Chinese[6] say, "it is only
the words which stop, the sense goes on,"--phrases like Kalidasa's[7]
"there are doors of the inevitable everywhere," or Bhavabhuti's[8] "for
causeless love there is no remedy." As regards the predominance of
swift-moving action over the poetical expression of great truths,
The Little Clay Cart stands related to the Latter Acts of Rama as
Macbeth does to Hamlet. Again, Shudraka's style is simple and direct,
a rare quality in a Hindu; and although this style, in the passages
of higher emotion, is of an exquisite simplicity, yet Shudraka
cannot infuse into mere language the charm which we find in Kalidasa
or the majesty which we find in Bhavabhuti.
Yet Shudraka's limitations in regard to stylistic power are not
without their compensation. For love of style slowly strangled originality
and enterprise in Indian poets, and ultimately proved the
death of Sanskrit literature. Now just at this point, where other
Hindu writers are weak, Shudraka stands forth preëminent. Nowhere
else in the hundreds of Sanskrit dramas do we find such variety,
and such drawing of character, as in The Little Clay Cart;
and nowhere else, in the drama at least, is there such humor. Let
us consider, a little more in detail, these three characteristics of
our author; his variety, his skill in the drawing of character, his
humor.
To gain a rough idea of Shudraka's variety, we have only to recall
the names of the acts of the play. Here The Shampooer who
Gambled and The Hole in the Wall are shortly followed by The
Storm; and The Swapping of the Bullock-carts is closely succeeded
by The Strangling of Vasantasena. From farce to tragedy, from
satire to pathos, runs the story, with a breadth truly Shaksperian.
Here we have philosophy:
_The lack of money is the root of all evil._ (_i. 14_)
And pathos:
_My body wet by tear-drops falling, falling;
My limbs polluted by the clinging mud;
Flowers from the graveyard torn, my wreath appalling;
For ghastly sacrifice hoarse ravens calling,
And for the fragrant incense of my blood._ (_x. 3_)
And nature description:
_But mistress, do not scold the lightning. She is your friend,
This golden cord that trembles on the breast
Of great Airavata; upon the crest
Of rocky hills this banner all ablaze;
This lamp tn Indra's palace; but most blest
As telling where your most belovèd stays._ (_v. 33_)
And genuine bitterness:
_Pride and tricks and lies and fraud
Are in your face;
False playground of the lustful god,
Such is your face;
The wench's stock in trade, in fine,
Epitome of joys divine,
I mean your face--
For sale! the price is courtesy.
I trust you'll find a man to buy
Your face._ (_v. 36_)
It is natural that Shudraka should choose for the expression of
matters so diverse that type of drama which gives the greatest
scope to the author's creative power. This type is the so-called
"drama of invention,"[9] a category curiously subordinated in India
to the heroic drama, the plot of which is drawn from history or
mythology. Indeed, The Little Clay Cart is the only extant drama
which fulfils the spirit of the drama of invention, as defined by the
Sanskrit canons of dramaturgy. The plot of the "Malati and Madhava,"
or of the "Mallika and Maruta," is in no true sense the invention
of the author; and The Little Clay Cart is the only drama
of invention which is "full of rascals."[10]
But a spirit so powerful as that of King Shudraka could not be
confined within the strait-jacket of the minute, and sometimes
puerile, rules of the technical works. In the very title of the drama,
he has disregarded the rule[11] that the name of a drama of invention
should be formed by compounding the names of heroine and hero.[12]
Again, the books prescribe[13] that the hero shall appear in every act;
yet Charudatta does not appear in acts ii., iv., vi., and viii. And
further, various characters, Vasantasena, Maitreya, the courtier,
and others, have vastly gained because they do not conform too
closely to the technical definitions.
The characters of The Little Clay Cart are living men and women. Even
when the type makes no strong appeal to Western minds, as in the case
of Charudatta, the character lives, in a sense in which Dushyanta[14]
or even Rama[15] can hardly be said to live. Shudraka's men are better
individualized than his women; this fact alone differentiates him
sharply from other Indian dramatists. He draws on every class of
society, from the high-souled Brahman to the executioner and the
housemaid.
His greatest character is unquestionably Sansthanaka, this
combination of ignorant conceit, brutal lust, and cunning, this greater
than Cloten, who, after strangling an innocent woman, can say:[16]
"Oh, come! Let's go and play in the pond." Most attractive characters
are the five[17] conspirators, men whose home is "east of Suez
and the ten commandments." They live from hand to mouth, ready
at any moment to steal a gem-casket or to take part in a revolution,
and preserving through it all their character as gentlemen and their
irresistible conceit. And side by side with them moves the hero
Charudatta, the Buddhist beau-ideal of manhood,
_A tree of life to them whose sorrows grow_,
_Beneath its fruit of virtue bending low_. (_i. 48_)
To him, life itself is not dear, but only honor.[18] He values wealth
only as it supplies him with the means of serving others. We may,
with some justice, compare him with Antonio in The Merchant
of Venice. There is some inconsistency, from our point of view,
in making such a character the hero of a love-drama; and indeed,
it is Vasantasena who does most of the love-making.[19]
Vasantasena is a character with neither the girlish charm of
Shakuntala[20] nor the mature womanly dignity of Sita.[21] She is
more admirable than lovable. Witty and wise she is, and in her
love as true as steel; this too, in a social position which makes such
constancy difficult. Yet she cannot be called a great character; she
does not seem so true to life as her clever maid, Madanika. In
making the heroine of his play a courtezan, Shudraka follows a
suggestion of the technical works on the drama; he does not
thereby cast any imputation of ill on Vasantasena's character. The
courtezan class in India corresponded roughly to the hetæræ of
ancient Greece or the geishas of Japan; it was possible to be a
courtezan and retain one's self-respect. Yet the inherited[22] way of
life proves distasteful to Vasantasena; her one desire is to escape
its limitations and its dangers by becoming a legal wife.[23]
In Maitreya, the Vidushaka, we find an instance of our author's
masterly skill in giving life to the dry bones of a rhetorical definition.
The Vidushaka is a stock character who has something in
common with a jester; and in Maitreya the essential traits of the
character--eagerness for good food and other creature comforts,
and blundering devotion to his friend--are retained, to be sure,
but clarified and elevated by his quaint humor and his readiness
to follow Charudatta even in death. The grosser traits of the typical
Vidushaka are lacking. Maitreya is neither a glutton nor a fool,
but a simple-minded, whole-hearted friend.
The courtier is another character suggested by the technical
works, and transformed by the genius of Shudraka. He is a man
not only of education and social refinement, but also of real nobility
of nature. But he is in a false position from the first, this
true gentleman at the wretched court of King Palaka; at last he
finds the courage to break away, and risks life, and all that makes
life attractive, by backing Aryaka. Of all the conspirators, it is he
who runs the greatest risk. To his protection of Vasantasena is
added a touch of infinite pathos when we remember that he was
himself in love with her.[24] Only when Vasantasena leaves him[25] without
a thought, to enter Charudatta's house, does he realize how
much he loves her; then, indeed, he breaks forth in words of the
most passionate jealousy. We need not linger over the other characters,
except to observe that each has his marked individuality,
and that each helps to make vivid this picture of a society that
seems at first so remote.
Shudraka's humor is the third of his vitally distinguishing qualities.
This humor has an American flavor, both in its puns and in its
situations. The plays on words can seldom be adequately reproduced in
translation, but the situations are independent of language. And
Shudraka's humor runs the whole gamut, from grim to farcical, from
satirical to quaint. Its variety and keenness are such that King
Shudraka need not fear a comparison with the greatest of Occidental
writers of comedies.
It remains to say a word about the construction of the play. Obviously,
it is too long. More than this, the main action halts through acts ii.
to v., and during these episodic acts we almost forget that the main
plot concerns the love of Vasantasena and Charudatta. Indeed, we have in
The Little Clay Cart the material for two plays. The larger part of act
i. forms with acts vi. to x. a consistent and ingenious plot; while the
remainder of act i. might be combined with acts iii. to v. to make a
pleasing comedy of lighter tone. The second act, clever as it is, has
little real connection either with the main plot or with the story of
the gems. The breadth of treatment which is observable in this play is
found in many other specimens of the Sanskrit drama, which has set
itself an ideal different from that of our own drama. The lack of
dramatic unity and consistency is often compensated, indeed, by lyrical
beauty and charms of style; but it suggests the question whether we
might not more justly speak of the Sanskrit plays as dramatic poems than
as dramas. In The Little Clay Cart, at any rate, we could ill afford to
spare a single scene, even though the very richness and variety of the
play remove it from the class of the world's greatest dramas.
II. THE TRANSLATION
The following translation is sufficiently different from previous
translations of Indian plays to require a word of explanation. The
difference consists chiefly in the manner in which I have endeavored to
preserve the form of the original. The Indian plays are written in
mingled prose and verse; and the verse portion forms so large a part of
the whole that the manner in which it is rendered is of much importance.
Now this verse is not analogous to the iambic trimeter of Sophocles or
the blank verse of Shakspere, but roughly corresponds to the Greek
choruses or the occasional rhymed songs of the Elizabethan stage. In
other words, the verse portion of a Sanskrit drama is not narrative; it
is sometimes descriptive, but more commonly lyrical: each stanza sums up
the emotional impression which the preceding action or dialogue has made
upon one of the actors. Such matter is in English cast into the form of
the rhymed stanza; and so, although rhymed verse is very rarely employed
in classical Sanskrit, it seems the most appropriate vehicle for the
translation of the stanzas of a Sanskrit drama. It is true that we
occasionally find stanzas which might fitly be rendered in English blank
verse, and, more frequently, stanzas which are so prosaic as not to
deserve a rendering in English verse at all.[26] But, as the present
translation may be regarded as in some sort an experiment, I have
preferred to hold rigidly to the distinction found in the original
between simple prose and types of stanza which seem to me to correspond
to English rhymed verse.
It is obvious that a translation into verse, and especially into
rhymed verse, cannot be as literal as a translation into prose; this
disadvantage I have used my best pains to minimize. I hope it
may be said that nothing of real moment has been omitted from
the verses; and where lack of metrical skill has compelled expansion,
I have striven to make the additions as insignificant as
possible.
There is another point, however, in which it is hardly feasible to
imitate the original; this is the difference in the dialects used by the
various characters. In The Little Clay Cart, as in other Indian dramas,
some of the characters speak Sanskrit, others Prakrit. Now Prakrit is
the generic name for a number of dialects derived from the Sanskrit and
closely akin to it. The inferior personages of an Indian play, and, with
rare exceptions, all the women, speak one or another of these Prakrits.
Of the thirty characters of this play, for example, only five
(Charudatta, the courtier, Aryaka, Sharvilaka, and the judge) speak
Sanskrit;[27] the others speak various Prakrit dialects. Only in the
case of Sansthanaka have I made a rude attempt to suggest the dialect by
substituting sh for s as he does. And the grandiloquence of Sharvilaka's
Sanskrit in the satirical portion of the third act I have endeavored to
imitate.
Whenever the language of the original is at all technical, the
translator labors under peculiar difficulty. Thus the legal terms
found in the ninth act are inadequately rendered, and, to some extent
at least, inevitably so; for the legal forms, or lack of forms,
pictured there were never contemplated by the makers of the English
legal vocabulary. It may be added here that in rendering from a
literature so artificial as the Sanskrit, one must lose not only the
sensuous beauty of the verse, but also many plays on words.
In regard to the not infrequent repetitions found in the text, I
have used my best judgment. Such repetitions have been given in
full where it seemed to me that the force or unity of the passage
gained by such treatment, or where the original repeats in full, as
in the case of v. 7, which is identical with iii. 29. Elsewhere, I have
merely indicated the repetition after the manner of the original.
The reader will notice that there was little effort to attain realism
in the presentation of an Indian play. He need not be surprised
therefore to find (page 145) that Viraka leaves the court-room,
mounts a horse, rides to the suburbs, makes an investigation
and returns--all within the limits of a stage-direction. The
simplicity of presentation also makes possible sudden shifts of
scene. In the first act, for example, there are six scenes, which take
place alternately in Charudatta's house and in the street outside.
In those cases where a character enters "seated" or "asleep," I have
substituted the verb "appear" for the verb "enter"; yet I am not
sure that this concession to realism is wise.
The system of transliteration which I have adopted is intended to render
the pronunciation of proper names as simple as may be to the English
reader. The consonants are to be pronounced as in English,[28] the
vowels as in Italian. Diacritical marks have been avoided, with the
exception of the macron. This sign has been used consistently[29] to
mark long vowels except _e_ and _o_, which are always long.
Three rules suffice for the placing of the accent. A long penult is
accented: Maitréya, Charudatta. If the penult is short, the antepenult
is accented provided it be long: Sansthanaka. If both penult and
antepenult of a four-syllabled word are short, the pre-antepenultimate
receives the accent: Mádanika, Sthavaraka.
III. AN OUTLINE OF THE PLOT
ACT I., entitled _The Gems are left Behind_. Evening of the first
day.--After the prologue, Charudatta, who is within his house, converses
with his friend Maitreya, and deplores his poverty. While they are
speaking, Vasantasena appears in the street outside. She is pursued by
the courtier and Sansthanaka; the latter makes her degrading offers of
his love, which she indignantly rejects. Charudatta sends Maitreya from
the house to offer sacrifice, and through the open door Vasantasena
slips unobserved into the house. Maitreya returns after an altercation
with Sansthanaka, and recognizes Vasantasena. Vasantasena leaves a
casket of gems in the house for safe keeping and returns to her home.
ACT II., entitled _The Shampooer who Gambled_. Second day.--The
act opens in Vasantasena's house. Vasantasena confesses to her
maid Madanika her love for Charudatta. Then a shampooer appears
in the street, pursued by the gambling-master and a gambler, who
demand of him ten gold-pieces which he has lost in the gambling-house.
At this point Darduraka enters, and engages the gambling-master
and the gambler in an angry discussion, during which the
shampooer escapes into Vasantasena's house. When Vasantasena
learns that the shampooer had once served Charudatta, she pays his
debt; the grateful shampooer resolves to turn monk. As he leaves
the house he is attacked by a runaway elephant, and saved by
Karnapuraka, a servant of Vasantasena.
ACT III., entitled _The Hole in the Wall_. The night following the
second day.--Charudatta and Maitreya return home after midnight
from a concert, and go to sleep. Maitreya has in his hand the
gem-casket which Vasantasena has left behind. Sharvilaka enters.
He is in love with Madanika, a maid of Vasantasena's, and is
resolved to acquire by theft the means of buying her freedom. He
makes a hole in the wall of the house, enters, and steals the casket
of gems which Vasantasena had left. Charudatta wakes to find
casket and thief gone. His wife gives him her pearl necklace with
which to make restitution.
ACT IV., entitled _Madanika and Sharvilaka_. Third day.--Sharvilaka
comes to Vasantasena's house to buy Madanika's freedom.
Vasantasena overhears the facts concerning the theft of her gem-casket
from Charudatta's house, but accepts the casket, and gives
Madanika her freedom. As Sharvilaka leaves the house, he hears
that his friend Aryaka, who had been imprisoned by the king, has
escaped and is being pursued. Sharvilaka departs to help him.
Maitreya comes from Charudatta with the pearl necklace, to repay
Vasantasena for the gem-casket. She accepts the necklace also, as
giving her an excuse for a visit to Charudatta.
ACT V., entitled _The Storm_. Evening of the third day.--Charudatta
appears in the garden of his house. Here he receives a servant
of Vasantasena, who announces that Vasantasena is on her
way to visit him. Vasantasena then appears in the street with the
courtier; the two describe alternately the violence and beauty of the
storm which has suddenly arisen. Vasantasena dismisses the courtier,
enters the garden, and explains to Charudatta how she has
again come into possession of the gem-casket. Meanwhile, the storm
has so increased in violence that she is compelled to spend the night
at Charudatta's house.
ACT VI., entitled _The Swapping of the Bullock-carts_. Morning of
the fourth day.--Here she meets Charudatta's little son, Rohasena.
The boy is peevish because he can now have only a little clay cart
to play with, instead of finer toys. Vasantasena gives him her
gems to buy a toy cart of gold. Charudatta's servant drives up to
take Vasantasena in Charudatta's bullock-cart to the park, where
she is to meet Charudatta; but while Vasantasena is making ready,
he drives away to get a cushion. Then Sansthanaka's servant drives
up with his master's cart, which Vasantasena enters by mistake.
Soon after, Charudatta's servant returns with his cart. Then the
escaped prisoner Aryaka appears and enters Charudatta's cart.
Two policemen come on the scene; they are searching for Aryaka.
One of them looks into the cart and discovers Aryaka, but agrees
to protect him. This he does by deceiving and finally maltreating
his companion.
ACT VII., entitled _Aryaka's Escape_. Fourth day.--Charudatta
is awaiting Vasantasena in the park. His cart, in which Aryaka lies
hidden, appears. Charudatta discovers the fugitive, removes his
fetters, lends him the cart, and leaves the park.
ACT VIII., entitled _The Strangling of Vasantasena_. Fourth
day.--A Buddhist monk, the shampooer of the second act, enters
the park. He has difficulty in escaping from Sansthanaka, who
appears with the courtier. Sansthanaka's servant drives in with the
cart which Vasantasena had entered by mistake. She is discovered
by Sansthanaka, who pursues her with insulting offers of love.
When she repulses him, Sansthanaka gets rid of all witnesses,
strangles her, and leaves her for dead. The Buddhist monk enters
again, revives Vasantasena, and conducts her to a monastery.
ACT IX., entitled _The Trial_. Fifth day.--Sansthanaka accuses
Charudatta of murdering Vasantasena for her money. In the course
of the trial, it appears that Vasantasena had spent the night of the
storm at Charudatta's house; that she had left the house the next
morning to meet Charudatta in the park; that there had been a
struggle in the park, which apparently ended in the murder of a
woman. Charudatta's friend, Maitreya, enters with the gems which
Vasantasena had left to buy Charudatta's son a toy cart of gold.
These gems fall to the floor during a scuffle between Maitreya and
Sansthanaka. In view of Charudatta's poverty, this seems to establish
the motive for the crime, and Charudatta is condemned to
death.
ACT X., entitled _The End_. Sixth day.--Two headsmen are conducting
Charudatta to the place of execution. Charudatta takes his last leave of
his son and his friend Maitreya. But Sansthanaka's servant escapes from
confinement and betrays the truth; yet he is not believed, owing to the
cunning displayed by his master. The headsmen are preparing to execute
Charudatta, when Vasantasena herself appears upon the scene, accompanied
by the Buddhist monk. Her appearance puts a summary end to the
proceedings. Then news is brought that Aryaka has killed and supplanted
the former king, that he wishes to reward Charudatta, and that he has by
royal edict freed Vasantasena from the necessity of living as a
courtezan. Sansthanaka is brought before Charudatta for sentence, but is
pardoned by the man whom he had so grievously injured. The play ends
with the usual Epilogue.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 2: For an illuminating discussion of these matters, the reader
is referred to Sylvain Lévi's admirable work, Le Théâtre Indien, Paris,
1890, pages 196-211.]
[Footnote 3: In his Malatimadhava, i. 8, he says: "Whoever they may be
who now proclaim their contempt for me,--they know something, but this
work was not for them. Yet there will arise a man of nature like mine
own; for time is endless, and the world is wide." This seems prophetic
of John Milton.]
[Footnote 4: Prasannaraghava, i. 22.]
[Footnote 5: Mahaviracarita, i. 4.]
[Footnote 6: History of Chinese Literature, by H. A. Giles, pages 145-146.]
[Footnote 7: Shakuntala, i. 15.]
[Footnote 8: Latter Acts of Rama, v. 17.]
[Footnote 9: _Prakarana._]
[Footnote 10: Dhurtasamkula: Daçarupa, iii. 38.]
[Footnote 11: _Sahityadarpana_, 428.]
[Footnote 12: As in Malati-madhava.]
[Footnote 13: Daçarupa, iii. 33.]
[Footnote 14: In Kalidasa's Shakuntala.]
[Footnote 15: In Bhavabhuti's Latter Acts of Rama.]
[Footnote 16: See page 128.]
[Footnote 17: Aryaka, Darduraka, Chandanaka, Sharvilaka, and the courtier.]
[Footnote 18: See x. 27.]
[Footnote 19: See v. 46 and the following stage-direction.]
[Footnote 20: In Kalidasa's play of that name.]
[Footnote 21: In Bhavabhuti's Latter Acts of Rama.]
[Footnote 22: See viii. 43.]
[Footnote 23: See pages 65-66 and page 174.]
[Footnote 24: See viii. 38 and compare the words, "Yet love bids me
prattle," on page 86.]
[Footnote 25: Page 87.]
[Footnote 26: Stanzas of the latter sort in The Little Clay Cart are
vii. 2 and viii. 5.]
[Footnote 27: This statement requires a slight limitation; compare, for
example, the footnote to page 82.]
[Footnote 28: But the combination _th_ should be pronounced as in
_ant-hill_, not as in _thin_ or _this_; similarly _dh_ as in
_mad-house_; _bh_ as in _abhor._]
[Footnote 29: Except in the names Aryaka and Ahinta, where typographical
considerations have led to the omission of the macron over the initial
letter; and except also in head-lines.]
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
CHARUDATTA, _a Brahman merchant_
ROHASENA, _his son_
MAITREYA, _his friend_
VARDHAMANAKA, _a servant in his house_
SANSTHANAKA, _brother-in-law of King_ PALAKA
STHAVARAKA, _his servant_
_Another Servant of_ SANSTHANAKA
_A Courtier_
ARYAKA, _a herdsman who becomes king_
SHARVILAKA, _a Brahman, in love with_ MADANIKA
_A Shampooer, who becomes a Buddhist monk_
MATHURA, _a gambling-master_
DARDURAKA, _a gambler_
_Another Gambler_
KARNAPURAKA }
KUMBHILAKA } _servants of_ VASANTASENA
VIRAKA }
CHANDANAKA } _policemen_
GOHA }
AHINTA } _headsmen_
_Bastard pages, in_ VASANTASENA'S _house_
_A Judge_, _a Gild-warden_, _a Clerk_, _and a Beadle_
VASANTASENA, _a courtezan_
_Her Mother_
MADANIKA, _maid to_ VASANTASENA
_Another Maid to_ VASANTASENA
_The Wife of_ CHARUDATTA
RADANIKA, _a maid in_ CHARUDATTA'S _house_
SCENE
UJJAYINI (_called also_ AVANTI) _and its Environs_
THE LITTLE CLAY CART
PROLOGUE
_Benediction upon the audience_
His bended knees the knotted girdle holds,
Fashioned by doubling of a serpent's folds;
His sensive organs, so he checks his breath,
Are numbed, till consciousness seems sunk in death;
Within himself, with eye of truth, he sees
The All-soul, free from all activities.
May His, may Shiva's meditation be
Your strong defense; on the Great Self thinks he,
Knowing full well the world's vacuity. 1
And again:
May Shiva's neck shield you from every harm,
That seems a threatening thunder-cloud, whereon,
Bright as the lightning-flash, lies Gauri's arm. 2
_Stage-director._ Enough of this tedious work, which fritters away
the interest of the audience! Let me then most reverently salute
the honorable gentlemen, and announce our intention to produce
a drama called "The Little Clay Cart." Its author was a man
Who vied with elephants in lordly grace;
Whose eyes were those of the chakora bird
That feeds on moonbeams; glorious his face
As the full moon; his person, all have heard,
Was altogether lovely. First in worth
Among the twice-born was this poet, known
As Shudraka far over all the earth,
His virtue's depth unfathomed and alone. 3
[1.14. S.
And again:
The Samaveda, the Rigveda too,
The science mathematical, he knew;
The arts wherein fair courtezans excel,
And all the lore of elephants as well.
Through Shiva's grace, his eye was never dim;
He saw his son a king in place of him.
The difficult horse-sacrifice he tried
Successfully; entered the fiery tide,
One hundred years and ten days old, and died. 4
And yet again:
Eager for battle; sloth's determined foe;
Of scholars chief, who to the Veda cling;
Rich in the riches that ascetics know;
Glad, gainst the foeman's elephant to show
His valor;--such was Shudraka, the king. 5
And in this work of his,
Within the town, Avanti named,
Dwells one called Charudatta, famed
No less for youth than poverty;
A merchant's son and Brahman, he.
His virtues have the power to move
Vasantasena's inmost love;
Fair as the springtime's radiancy,
And yet a courtezan is she. 6
So here king Shudraka the tale imparts
Of love's pure festival in these two hearts,
Of prudent acts, a lawsuit's wrong and hate,
A rascal's nature, and the course of fate. 7
[_He walks about and looks around him._] Why, this music-room of
ours is empty. I wonder where the actors have gone. [_Reflecting._]
Ah, I understand.
P. 4.7]
Empty his house, to whom no child was born;
Thrice empty his, who lacks true friends and sure;
To fools, the world is empty and forlorn;
But all that is, is empty to the poor. 8
I have finished the concert. And I've been practising so long that
the pupils of my eyes are dancing, and I'm so hungry that my eyes
are crackling like a lotus-seed, dried up by the fiercest rays of the
summer sun. I'll just call my wife and ask whether there is anything
for breakfast or not.
Hello! here I am--but no! Both the particular occasion and the
general custom demand that I speak Prakrit. [_Speaking in Prakrit._]
Confound it! I've been practising so long and I'm so hungry that
my limbs are as weak as dried-up lotus-stalks. Suppose I go home
and see whether my good wife has got anything ready or not. [_He
walks about and looks around him._] Here I am at home. I'll just go
in. [_He enters and looks about._] Merciful heavens! Why in the world
is everything in our house turned upside down? A long stream of
rice-water is flowing down the street. The ground, spotted black
where the iron kettle has been rubbed clean, is as lovely as a girl
with the beauty-marks of black cosmetic on her face. It smells so
good that my hunger seems to blaze up and hurts me more than
ever. Has some hidden treasure come to light? or am I hungry
enough to think the whole world is made of rice? There surely isn't
any breakfast in our house, and I'm starved to death. But everything
seems topsyturvy here. One girl is preparing cosmetics, another
is weaving garlands of flowers. [_Reflecting._] What does it all
mean? Well, I'll call my good wife and learn the truth. [_He looks
toward the dressing-room._] Mistress, will you come here a moment?
[_Enter an actress._]
_Actress._ Here I am, sir.
_Director._ You are very welcome, mistress.
_Actress._ Command me, sir. What am I to do?
[3.8. S.
_Director._ Mistress, I've been practising so long and I'm so hungry
that my limbs are as weak as dried-up lotus-stalks. Is there anything
to eat in the house or not?
_Actress._ There's everything, sir.
_Director._ Well, what?
_Actress._ For instance--there's rice with sugar, melted butter, curdled
milk, rice; and, all together, it makes you a dish fit for
heaven. May the gods always be thus gracious to you!
_Director._ All that in our house? or are you joking?
_Actress._ [_Aside._] Yes, I will have my joke. [_Aloud._] It's in the
market-place, sir.
_Director._ [_Angrily._] You wretched woman, thus shall your own
hope be cut off! And death shall find you out! For my expectations,
like a scaffolding, have been raised so high, only to fall again.
_Actress._ Forgive me, sir, forgive me! It was only a joke.
_Director._ But what do these unusual preparations mean? One girl
is preparing cosmetics, another is weaving garlands, and the very
ground is adorned with sacrificial flowers of five different colors.
_Actress._ This is a fast day, sir.
_Director._ What fast?
_Actress._ The fast for a handsome husband.
_Director._ In this world, mistress, or the next?
_Actress._ In the next world, sir.
_Director._ [_Wrathfully._] Gentlemen! look at this. She is sacrificing
my food to get herself a husband in the next world.
_Actress._ Don't be angry, sir. I am fasting in the hope that you
may be my husband in my next birth, too.
_Director._ But who suggested this fast to you?
_Actress._ Your own dear friend Jurnavriddha.
_Director._ [_Angrily._] Ah, Jurnavriddha, son of a slave-wench!
When, oh, when shall I see King Palaka angry with you? Then
you will be parted, as surely as the scented hair of some young
bride.
P. 8.10]
_Actress._ Don't be angry, sir. It is only that I may have you in the
next world that I celebrate this fast. [_She falls at his feet._]
_Director._ Stand up, mistress, and tell me who is to officiate at this
fast.
_Actress._ Some Brahman of our own sort whom we must invite.
_Director._ You may go then. And I will invite some Brahman of
our own sort.
_Actress._ Very well, sir. [_Exit._
_Director._ [_Walking about._] Good heavens! In this rich city of
Ujjayini how am I to find a Brahman of our own sort? [_He looks
about him._] Ah, here comes Charudatta's friend Maitreya. Good!
I'll ask him. Maitreya, you must be the first to break bread in
our house to-day.
_A voice behind the scenes._ You must invite some other Brahman.
I am busy.
_Director._ But, man, the feast is set and you have it all to yourself.
Besides, you shall have a present.
_The voice._ I said no once. Why should you keep on urging me?
_Director._ He says no. Well, I must invite some other Brahman.
[_Exit._
END OF THE PROLOGUE
ACT THE FIRST
THE GEMS ARE LEFT BEHIND
[_Enter, with a cloak in his hand, Maitreya._]
_Maitreya._
"You must invite some other Brahman. I am busy." And yet I really ought
to be seeking invitations from a stranger. Oh, what a wretched state of
affairs! When good Charudatta was still wealthy, I used to eat my fill
of the most deliciously fragrant sweetmeats, prepared day and night with
the greatest of care. I would sit at the door of the courtyard, where I
was surrounded by hundreds of dishes, and there, like a painter with his
paint-boxes, I would simply touch them with my fingers and thrust them
aside. I would stand chewing my cud like a bull in the city market. And
now he is so poor that I have to run here, there, and everywhere, and
come home, like the pigeons, only to roost. Now here is this
jasmine-scented cloak, which Charudatta's good friend Jurnavriddha has
sent him. He bade me give it to Charudatta, as soon as he had finished
his devotions. So now I will look for Charudatta. [_He walks about and
looks around him._] Charudatta has finished his devotions, and here he
comes with an offering for the divinities of the house.
[_Enter Charudatta as described, and Radanika._]
_Charudatta._ [_Looking up and sighing wearily._]
Upon my threshold, where the offering
Was straightway seized by swans and flocking cranes,
The grass grows now, and these poor seeds I fling
Fall where the mouth of worms their sweetness stains. 9
[_He walks about very slowly and seats himself._]
_Maitreya_. Charudatta is here. I must go and speak to him.
[_Approaching._] My greetings to you. May happiness be yours.
P. 13.1]
_Charudatta._ Ah, it is my constant friend Maitreya. You are very
welcome, my friend. Pray be seated.
_Maitreya._ Thank you. [_He seats himself._] Well, comrade, here is a
jasmine-scented cloak which your good friend Jurnavriddha has
sent. He bade me give it you as soon as you had finished your devotions.
[_He presents the cloak. Charudatta takes it and remains
sunk in thought._] Well, what are you thinking about?
_Charudatta._ My good friend,
A candle shining through the deepest dark
Is happiness that follows sorrow's strife;
But after bliss when man bears sorrow's mark,
His body lives a very death-in-life. 10
_Maitreya._ Well, which would you rather, be dead or be poor?
_Charudatta._ Ah, my friend,
Far better death than sorrows sure and slow;
Some passing suffering from death may flow,
But poverty brings never-ending woe. 11
_Maitreya._ My dear friend, be not thus cast down. Your wealth has
been conveyed to them you love, and like the moon, after she has
yielded her nectar to the gods, your waning fortunes win an added
charm.
_Charudatta._ Comrade, I do not grieve for my ruined fortunes. But
This is my sorrow. They whom I
Would greet as guests, now pass me by.
"This is a poor man's house," they cry.
As flitting bees, the season o'er,
Desert the elephant, whose store
Of ichor[30] spent, attracts no more. 12
_Maitreya._ Oh, confound the money! It is a trifle not worth thinking
about. It is like a cattle-boy in the woods afraid of wasps; it
doesn't stay anywhere where it is used for food.
[8.5. S.
_Charud._ Believe me, friend. My sorrow does not spring
From simple loss of gold;
For fortune is a fickle, changing thing,
Whose favors do not hold;
But he whose sometime wealth has taken wing,
Finds bosom-friends grow cold. 13
Then too:
A poor man is a man ashamed; from shame
Springs want of dignity and worthy fame;
Such want gives rise to insults hard to bear;
Thence comes despondency; and thence, despair;
Despair breeds folly; death is folly's fruit--
Ah! the lack of money is all evils root! 14
_Maitreya._ But just remember what a trifle money is, after all, and
be more cheerful.
_Charudatta._ My friend, the poverty of a man is to him
A home of cares, a shame that haunts the mind,
Another form of warfare with mankind;
The abhorrence of his friends, a source of hate
From strangers, and from each once-loving mate;
But if his wife despise him, then 't were meet
In some lone wood to seek a safe retreat.
The flame of sorrow, torturing his soul,
Burns fiercely, yet contrives to leave him whole. 15
Comrade, I have made my offering to the divinities of the house.
Do you too go and offer sacrifice to the Divine Mothers at a place
where four roads meet.
_Maitreya._ No!
_Charudatta._ Why not?
_Maitreya._ Because the gods are not gracious to you even when
thus honored. So what is the use of worshiping?
P. 16.8]
_Charudatta._ Not so, my friend, not so! This is the constant duty
of a householder.
The gods feel ever glad content
In the gifts, and the self-chastisement,
The meditations, and the prayers,
Of those who banish worldly cares. 16
Why then do you hesitate? Go and offer sacrifice to the Mothers.
_Maitreya._ No, I'm not going. You must send somebody else. Anyway,
everything seems to go wrong with me, poor Brahman that
I am! It's like a reflection in a mirror; the right side becomes the
left, and the left becomes the right. Besides, at this hour of the
evening, people are abroad upon the king's highway--courtezans,
courtiers, servants, and royal favorites. They will take me now for
fair prey, just as the black-snake out frog-hunting snaps up the
mouse in his path. But what will you do sitting here?
_Charudatta._ Good then, remain; and I will finish my devotions.
* * * * *
_Voices behind the scenes._ Stop, Vasantasena, stop!
[_Enter Vasantasena, pursued by the courtier, by Sansthanaka, and the
servant._]
_Courtier._ Vasantasena! Stop, stop!
Ah, why should fear transform your tenderness?
Why should the dainty feet feel such distress,
That twinkle in the dance so prettily?
Why should your eyes, thus startled into fear,
Dart sidelong looks? Why, like the timid deer
Before pursuing hunters, should you flee? 17
_Sansthanaka._ Shtop,[31] Vasantasena, shtop!
Why flee? and run? and shtumble in your turning?
Be kind! You shall not die. Oh, shtop your feet!
With love, shweet girl, my tortured heart is burning.
As on a heap of coals a piece of meat. 18
[10.2 S.
_Servant._ Stop, courtezan, stop!
In fear you flee
Away from me,
As a summer peahen should;
But my lord and master
Struts fast and faster,
Like a woodcock in the wood. 19
_Courtier._ Vasantasena! Stop, stop!
Why should you tremble, should you flee,
A-quiver like the plantain tree?
Your garment's border, red and fair,
Is all a-shiver in the air;
Now and again, a lotus-bud
Falls to the ground, as red as blood.
A red realgar[32] vein you seem,
Whence, smitten, drops of crimson stream. 20
_Sansthanaka._ Shtop. Vasantasena, shtop!
You wake my passion, my desire, my love;
You drive away my shleep in bed at night;
Both fear and terror sheem your heart to move;
You trip and shtumble in your headlong flight.
But Ravana forced Kunti[33] to his will;
Jusht sho shall I enjoy you to the fill. 21
_Courtier._ Ah, Vasantasena,
Why should your fleeter flight
Outstrip my flying feet?
Why, like a snake in fright
Before the bird-king's might,
Thus seek to flee, my sweet?
Could I not catch the storm-wind in his flight?
Yet would not seize upon you, though I might. 22
P. 19.9]
_Sansthanaka_. Lishten to me, shir!
Thish whip of robber Love, thish dancing-girl,
Eater of fish, deshtroyer of her kin,
Thish shnubnose, shtubborn, love-box, courtezan,
Thish clothes-line, wanton creature, maid of sin--
I gave her ten shweet names, and shtill
She will not bend her to my will. 23
_Courtier_.
As courtier's fingers strike the lute's tense string,
The dancing ear-ring smites your wounded cheek.
Why should you flee, with dreadful terror weak,
As flees the crane when heaven's thunders ring? 24
_Sansth_.
Your jingling gems, girl, clink like anything;
Like Draupadi you flee, when Rama kisshed her.
I'll sheize you quick, as once the monkey-king
Sheized Subhadra, Vishvavasu's shweet shishter. 25
_Servant_.
He's the royal protégé;
Do whatever he may say.
And you shall have good fish and flesh to eat.
For when dogs have all the fish
And the flesh that they can wish,
Even carrion seems to them no longer sweet. 26
_Courtier_. Mistress Vasantasena,
The girdle drooping low upon your hips
Flashes as brilliant as the shining stars;
The wondrous terror of your fleeing mars
Your charms; for red realgar, loosened, slips
As on an imaged god, from cheek and lips. 27
_Sansth_.
We're chasing you with all our main and might,
As dogs a jackal when they hunt and find it;
But you are quick and nimble in your flight,
And shteal my heart with all the roots that bind it. 28
[11.23. S.
_Vasantasena._ Pallavaka! Parabhritika!
_Sansthanaka._ Mashter! a man! a man!
_Courtier._ Don't be a coward.
_Vasantasena._ Madhavika! Madhavika!
_Courtier._ [_Laughing._] Fool! She is calling her servants.
_Sansthanaka._ Mashter! Is she calling a woman?
_Courtier._ Why, of course.
_Sansthanaka._ Women! I kill hundreds of 'em. I'm a brave man.
_Vasantasena._ [_Seeing that no one answers._] Alas, how comes it that
my very servants have fallen away from me? I shall have to defend
myself by mother-wit.
_Courtier._ Don't stop the search.
_Sansthanaka._ Shqueal, Vasantasena, shqueal for your cuckoo
Parabhritika, or for your blosshom Pallavaka or for all the month of
May! Who's going to save you when I'm chasing you?
Why shpeak of Bhimasena? Or the shon
Of Jamadagni, that thrice-mighty one?
The ten-necked ogre? Shon of Kunti fair?
Jusht look at me! My fingers in your hair,
Jusht like Duhshasana, I'll tear, and tear. 29
Look, look!
My shword is sharp; good-by, poor head!
Let's chop it off, or kill you dead.
Then do not try my wrath to shun;
When you musht die, your life is done. 30
_Vasantasena._ Sir, I am a weak woman.
_Courtier._ That is why you are still alive.
_Sansthanaka._ That is why you're not murdered.
_Vasantasena._ [_Aside._] Oh! his very courtesy frightens me. Come,
I will try this. [_Aloud._] Sir, what do you expect from this pursuit?
my jewels?
P. 24.7]
_Courtier._ Heaven forbid! A garden creeper, mistress Vasantasena,
should not be robbed of its blossoms. Say no more about the jewels.
_Vasantasena._ What is then your desire?
_Sansthanaka._ I'm a man, a big man, a regular Vasudeva.[34] You
musht love me.
_Vasantasena._ [_Indignantly._] Heavens! You weary me. Come, leave
me! Your words are an insult.
_Sansthanaka._ [_Laughing and clapping his hands._] Look, mashter,
look! The courtezan's daughter is mighty affectionate with me,
isn't she? Here she says "Come on! Heavens, you're weary. You're
tired!" No, I haven't been walking to another village or another
city. No, little mishtress, I shwear by the gentleman's head, I
shwear by my own feet! It's only by chasing about at your heels
that I've grown tired and weary.
_Courtier._ [_Aside._] What! is it possible that the idiot does not
understand when she says "You weary me"? [_Aloud._] Vasantasena,
your words have no place in the dwelling of a courtezan,
Which, as you know, is friend to every youth;
Remember, you are common as the flower
That grows beside the road; in bitter truth,
Your body has its price; your beauty's dower
Is his, who pays the market's current rate:
Then serve the man you love, and him you hate. 31
And again:
The wisest Brahman and the meanest fool
Bathe in the selfsame pool;
Beneath the peacock, flowering plants bend low,
No less beneath the crow;
The Brahman, warrior, merchant, sail along
With all the vulgar throng.
You are the pool, the flowering plant, the boat;
And on your beauty every man may dote. 32
[13.22 S.
_Vasantasena._ Yet true love would be won by virtue, not violence.
_Sansthanaka._ But, mashter, ever since the shlave-wench went into
the park where Kama's[35] temple shtands, she has been in love with
a poor man, with Charudatta, and she doesn't love me any more.
His house is to the left. Look out and don't let her shlip out of our
hands.
_Courtier._ [_Aside._] Poor fool, he has said the very thing he should
have concealed. So Vasantasena is in love with Charudatta? The
proverb is right. Pearl suits with pearl. Well, I have had enough
of this fool. [_Aloud._] Did you say the good merchant's house was
to the left, you jackass?
_Sansthanaka._ Yes. His house is to the left.
_Vasantasena._ [_Aside._] Oh, wonderful! If his house is really at my
left hand, then the scoundrel has helped me in the very act of hurting
me, for he has guided me to my love.
_Sansthanaka._ But mashter, it's pitch dark and it's like hunting
for a grain of soot in a pile of shpotted beans. Now you shee Vasantasena
and now you don't.
_Courtier._ Pitch dark it is indeed.
The sudden darkness seems to steal
The keenness of my sight;
My open eyes, as with a seal,
Are closed by blackest night. 33
And again:
Darkness anoints my body, and the sky
Drops ointment of thick darkness, till mine eye
Is all unprofitable grown to me,
Like service done to them who cheat and lie. 34
_Sansthanaka._ Mashter, I'm looking for Vasantasena.
_Courtier._ Is there anything you can trace her by, jackass?
_Sansthanaka._ Like what, for inshtance?
P. 28.3]
_Courtier._ Like the tinkling of her jewels, for instance, or the fragrance
of her garlands.
_Sansthanaka._ I hear the shmell of her garlands, but my nose is
shtuffed so full of darkness that I don't shee the shound of her
jewels very clearly.
_Courtier._ [_To Vasantasena. Aside._] Vasantasena,
'T is true, the night is dark, O timid maid,
And like the lightning hidden in the cloud,
You are not seen; yet you will be betrayed
By fragrant garlands and by anklets loud. 35
Have you heard me, Vasantasena?
_Vasantasena._ [_To herself._] Heard and understood. [_She removes
the ankle-rings, lays aside the garlands, and takes a few steps, feeling
her way._] I can feel the wall of the house, and here is a side-entrance.
But alas! my fingers tell me that the door is shut.
* * * * *
_Charudatta_ [_who is within the house_]. Comrade, my prayer is done.
Go now and offer sacrifice to the Mothers.
_Maitreya._ No, I'm not going.
_Charudatta._ Alas!
The poor man's kinsmen do not heed his will;
The friends who loved him once, now stand afar;
His sorrows multiply; his strength is nil;
Behold! his character's bright-shining star
Fades like the waning moon; and deeds of ill
That others do, are counted to him still. 36
And again:
No man holds converse with him; none will greet
With due respect the poor man when they meet.
Where rich men hold a feast, if he draw near,
He meets with scornful looks for looks of cheer.
[15.19. S.
Where vulgar throngs are gathered, 't is the same;
His scanty raiment wakes his heartfelt shame.
Five are the deadly sins[36] we knew before;
Alas! I find the sixth is--to be poor. 37
And yet again:
Ah, Poverty, I pity thee, that so
To me thou clingest, as thy dearest friend;
When my poor life has met its woeful end,
I sadly wonder, whither thou wilt go. 38
_Maitreya._ [_Betraying his embarrassment._] Well, comrade, if I must
go, at least let Radanika go with me, to keep me company.
_Charudatta._ Radanika, you are to accompany Maitreya.
_Radanika._ Yes, sir.
_Maitreya_. Mistress Radanika, do you take the offering and the
candle while I open the side-door. [_He does so._]
_Vasantasena._ It seems as if the door took pity on me and opened
of itself. I will lose no time, but enter. [_She looks in._] What? a
candle? Oh dear, oh dear! [_She puts it out with her skirt and enters._]
_Charudatta._ What was that, Maitreya?
_Maitreya._ I opened the side-door and the wind came through all
in a lump and blew out the candle. Suppose you go out by the
side-door, Radanika, and I will follow as soon as I have gone into
the courtyard and lighted the candle again. [_Exit._
_Sansthanaka._ Mashter! mashter! I'm looking for Vasantasena.
_Courtier._ Keep on looking, keep on looking!
_Sansthanaka._ [_Does so._] Mashter! mashter! I've caught her! I've
caught her!
_Courtier._ Idiot, you've caught me.
_Sansthanaka._ You shtand right here, mashter, and shtay where
you're put. [_He renews the search and seizes the servant._] Mashter!
mashter! I've caught her! I've caught her!
P. 31.3]
_Servant._ Master, you've caught me, your servant.
_Sansthanaka._ Mashter here, shervant here! Mashter, shervant;
shervant, mashter. Now shtay where you're put, both of you. [_He
renews the search and seizes Radanika by the hair._] Mashter! mashter!
Thish time I've caught her! I've caught Vasantasena!
Through the black night she fled, fled she;
Her garland's shmell betrayed her;
Like Chanakya caught Draupadi,
I caught her hair and shtayed her. 39
_Courtier._
Ah, proud to be so young, so fair!
Too high thy love must not aspire;
For now thy blossom-fragrant hair,
That merits richest gems and rare,
Serves but to drag thee through the mire. 40
_Sansth._
I've got your head, girl, got it tight,
By the hair, the locks, and the curls, too.
Now shcream, shqueak, shqueal with all your might
"Shiva! Ishvara! Shankara! Shambhu!"[37] 41
_Radanika._ [_In terror._] Oh, sirs, what does this mean?
_Courtier._ You jackass! It's another voice.
_Sansthanaka._ Mashter, the wench has changed her voice, the way a
cat changes her voice, when she wants shome cream of curdled milk.
_Courtier._ Changed her voice? Strange! Yet why so strange?
She trod the stage; she learned the arts;
She studied to deceive our hearts;
And now she practises her parts. 42
[_Enter Maitreya._]
_Maitreya._ Look! In the gentle evening breeze the flame of the
candle is fluttering like the heart of a goat that goes to the altar.
[_He approaches and discovers Radanika._] Mistress Radanika!
[17.17. S.
_Sansthanaka._ Mashter, mashter! A man! a man!
_Maitreya._ This is right, this is perfectly right, that strangers should
force their way into the house, just because Charudatta is poor.
_Radanika._ Oh, Maitreya, see how they insult me.
_Maitreya._ What! insult you? No, they are insulting us.
_Radanika._ Very well. They are insulting you, then.
_Maitreya._ But they aren't using violence?
_Radanika._ Yes, yes!
_Maitreya._ Really?
_Radanika._ Really.
_Maitreya._ [_Raising his staff angrily._] No, sir! Man, a dog will show
his teeth in his own kennel, and I am a Brahman! My staff is crooked
as my fortunes, but it can still split a dry bamboo or a rascal's pate.
_Courtier._ Have mercy, O great Brahman, have mercy.
_Maitreya._ [_Discovers the courtier._] He is not the sinner. [_Discovers
Sansthanaka._] Ah, here is the sinner. Well, you brother-in-law to
the king, Sansthanaka, you scoundrel, you coward, this is perfectly
proper, isn't it? Charudatta the good is a poor man now--true,
but are not his virtues an ornament to Ujjayini? And so men break
into his house and insult his servants!
Insult not him, laid low by poverty;
For none are counted poor by mighty fate:
Yet he who falls from virtue's high estate,
Though he be rich, no man is poor as he. 43
_Courtier._ [_Betraying his embarrassment._] Have mercy, O great
Brahman, have mercy. We intended no insolence; we merely mistook this
lady for another. For
We sought an amorous maiden,
_Maitreya._ What! this one?
_Courtier._ Heaven forbid!
one whose youth
Is in the guidance of her own sweet will;
She disappeared: unconscious of the truth,
We did what seems a purposed deed of ill. 44
P. 35.4]
I pray you, accept this all-in-all of humblest supplication. [_He drops
his sword, folds his hands, and falls at Maitreya's feet._]
_Maitreya._ Good man, rise, rise. When I reviled you, I did not know
you. Now I know you and I ask your pardon.
_Courtier._ It is I who should ask pardon. I will rise on one condition.
_Maitreya._ And that is--
_Courtier._ That you will not tell Charudatta what has happened here.
_Maitreya._ I will be silent.
_Courtier._
Brahman, this gracious act of thine
I bow my neck to bear;
For never could this sword of mine
With virtue's steel compare. 45
_Sansthanaka._ [_Indignantly._] But mashter, what makes you fold
your hands sho helplesshly and fall at the feet of thish manikin?
_Courtier._ I was afraid.
_Sansthanaka._ What were _you_ afraid of?
_Courtier._ Of Charudatta's virtues.
_Sansthanaka._ Virtues? He? You can go into his houshe and not
find a thing to eat.
_Courtier._ No, no.
His loving-kindness unto such as we
Has brought him low at last;
From him could no man learn what insults be,
Or e'er his wealth was past.
This well-filled pool, that in its summer day
Gave others drink, itself is dried away. 46
_Sansthanaka._ [_Impatiently._] Who is the shon of a shlave-wench
anyway?
Brave Shvetaketu is he, Pandu's child?
Or Radha's shon, the ten-necked ogre wild?
Or Indradatta? or again, is he
Shon of brave Rama and of fair Kunti?
Or Dharmaputra? Ashvatthaman bold?
Perhaps Jatayu's shelf, that vulture old? 47
[19.19. S.
_Courtier._ Fool! I will tell you who Charudatta is.
A tree of life to them whose sorrows grow,
Beneath its fruit of virtue bending low;
Father to good men; virtue's touchstone he;
The mirror of the learned; and the sea
Where all the tides of character unite;
A righteous man, whom pride could never blight;
A treasure-house, with human virtues stored;
Courtesy's essence, honor's precious hoard.
He doth to life its fullest meaning give,
So good is he; we others breathe, not live. 48
Let us be gone.
_Sansthanaka._ Without Vasantasena?
_Courtier._ Vasantasena has disappeared.
_Sansthanaka._ How?
_Courtier._
Like sick men's strength, or like the blind man's sight,
Like the fool's judgment, like the sluggard's might,
Like thoughtless scoundrels' store of wisdom's light,
Like love, when foemen fan our slumbering wrath,
So did _she_ vanish, when you crossed her path. 49
_Sansthanaka._ I'm not going without Vasantasena.
_Courtier._ And did you never hear this?
To hold a horse, you need a rein;
To hold an elephant, a chain;
To hold a woman, use a heart;
And if you haven't one, depart. 50
_Sansthanaka._ If you're going, go along. I'm not going.
_Courtier._ Very well. I will go. [_Exit._
P. 38.2]
_Sansthanaka._ Mashter's gone, sure enough. [_To Maitreya._] Well,
you man with the head that looks like a caret, you manikin, take a
sheat, take a sheat.
_Maitreya._ We have already been invited to take a seat.
_Sansthanaka._ By whom?
_Maitreya._ By destiny.
_Sansthanaka._ Shtand up, then, shtand up!
_Maitreya._ We shall.
_Sansthanaka._ When?
_Maitreya._ When fate is kind again.
_Sansthanaka._ Weep, then, weep!
_Maitreya._ We have wept.
_Sansthanaka._ Who made you?
_Maitreya._ Poverty.
_Sansthanaka._ Laugh, then, laugh!
_Maitreya._ Laugh we shall.
_Sansthanaka._ When?
_Maitreya._ When Charudatta is happy once more.
_Sansthanaka._ You manikin, give poor little Charudatta thish messhage
from me. "Thish wench with golden ornaments and golden jewels, thish
female shtage-manager looking after the rehearsal of a new play, thish
Vasantasena--she has been in love with you ever shince she went into the
park where Kama's temple shtands. And when we tried to conciliate her by
force, she went into your houshe. Now if you shend her away yourshelf
and hand her over to me, if you reshtore her at once, without any
lawshuit in court, then I'll be friends with you forever. But if you
don't reshtore her, there will be a fight to the death." Remember:
Shmear a pumpkin-shtalk with cow-dung;
Keep your vegetables dried;
Cook your rice in winter evenings;
And be sure your meat is fried.
Then let 'em shtand, and they will not
Bothershomely shmell and rot. 51
[21.17. S.
Tell it to him prettily, tell it to him craftily. Tell it to him sho that
I can hear it as I roosht in the dove-cote on the top of my own
palace. If you shay it different, I'll chew your head like an apple
caught in the crack of a door.
_Maitreya._ Very well. I shall tell him.
_Sansthanaka._ [_Aside._] Tell me, shervant. Is mashter really gone?
_Servant._ Yes, sir.
_Sansthanaka._ Then we will go as quickly as we can.
_Servant._ Then take your sword, master.
_Sansthanaka._ You can keep it.
_Servant._ Here it is, master. Take your sword, master.
_Sansthanaka._ [_Taking it by the wrong end._]
My shword, red as a radish shkin,
Ne'er finds the time to molder;
Shee how it shleeps its sheath within!
I put it on my shoulder.
While curs and bitches yelp at me, I roam,
Like a hunted jackal, home. 52
[_Sansthanaka and the servant walk about, then exeunt._
_Maitreya._ Mistress Radanika, you must not tell good Charudatta
of this outrage. I am sure you would only add to the poor man's
sorrows.
_Radanika._ Good Maitreya, you know Radanika. Her lips are sealed.
_Maitreya._ So be it.
* * * * *
_Charudatta._ [_To Vasantasena._] Radanika, Rohasena likes the fresh
air, but he will be cold in the evening chill. Pray bring him into the
house, and cover him with this mantle. [_He gives her the mantle._]
P. 49.19]
_Vasantasena._ [_To herself._] See! He thinks I am his servant. [_She
takes the mantle and perceives its perfume. Ardently to herself._] Oh,
beautiful! The mantle is fragrant with jasmine. His youthful days
are not wholly indifferent to the pleasures of the world. [_She wraps
it about her, without letting Charudatta see._]
_Charudatta._ Come, Radanika, take Rohasena and enter the heart
of the house.
_Vasantasena._ [_To herself._] Ah me unhappy, that have little part
or lot in your heart!
_Charudatta._ Come, Radanika, will you not even answer? Alas!
When man once sees that miserable day,
When fate almighty sweeps his wealth away,
Then ancient friendships will no longer hold,
Then all his former bosom-friends grow cold. 53
_Maitreya._ [_Drawing near to Radanika._] Sir, here is Radanika.
_Charudatta._ Here is Radanika? Who then is this--
This unknown lady, by my robe
Thus clinging, desecrated,
_Vasantasena._ [_To herself._] Say rather "consecrated."
_Charudatta._ Until she seems the crescent moon.
With clouds of autumn[38] mated? 54
But no! I may not gaze upon another's wife.
_Maitreya._ Oh, you need not fear that you are looking at another
man's wife. This is Vasantasena, who has been in love with you
ever since she saw you in the garden where Kama's temple stands.
_Charudatta._ What! this is Vasantasena? [_Aside._]
My love for whom--my fortune spent--
My wretched self in twain has rent.
Like coward's anger, inward bent. 55
[23. 19. S.
_Maitreya._ My friend, that brother-in-law of the king says--
_Charudatta._ Well?
_Maitreya._ "This wench with golden ornaments and golden jewels,
this female stage-manager looking after the rehearsal of a new
play, this Vasantasena--she has been in love with you ever since
she went into the park where Kama's temple stands. And when we
tried to conciliate her by force, she went into your house."
_Vasantasena._ [_To herself._] "Tried to conciliate me by force"--truly,
I am honored by these words.
_Maitreya._ "Now if you send her away yourself and hand her over
to me, if you restore her at once, without any lawsuit in court,
then I'll be friends with you forever. Otherwise, there will be a
fight to the death."
_Charudatta._ [_Contemptuously._] He is a fool. [_To himself._] How is
this maiden worthy of the worship that we pay a goddess! For now
Although I bade her enter, yet she seeks
To spare my poverty, nor enters here;
Though men are known to her, yet all she speaks
Contains no word to wound a modest ear. 56
[_Aloud._] Mistress Vasantasena, I have unwittingly made myself
guilty of an offense; for I greeted as a servant one whom I did not
recognize. I bend my neck to ask your pardon.
_Vasantasena._ It is I who have offended by this unseemly intrusion.
I bow my head to seek your forgiveness.
_Maitreya._ Yes, with your pretty bows you two have knocked your
heads together, till they look like a couple of rice-fields. I also bow
my head like a camel colt's knee and beseech you both to stand
up. [_He does so, then rises._]
_Charudatta._ Very well, let us no longer trouble ourselves with
conventions.
_Vasantasena._ [_To herself._] What a delightfully clever hint! But
it would hardly be proper to spend the night, considering how I
came hither. Well, I will at least say this much. [_Aloud._] If I am
to receive thus much of your favor, sir, I should be glad to leave
these jewels in your house. It was for the sake of the jewels that
those scoundrels pursued me.
P. 45.14]
_Charudatta._ This house is not worthy of the trust.
_Vasantasena._ You mistake, sir! It is to men that treasures are
entrusted, not to houses.
_Charudatta._ Maitreya, will you receive the jewels?
_Vasantasena._ I am much indebted to you. [_She hands him the
jewels._]
_Maitreya._ [_Receiving them._] Heaven bless you, madam.
_Charudatta._ Fool! They are only entrusted to us.
_Maitreya._ [_Aside._] Then the thieves may take them, for all I care.
_Charudatta._ In a very short time--
_Maitreya._ What she has entrusted to us, belongs to us.
_Charudatta._ I shall restore them.
_Vasantasena._ I should be grateful, sir, if this gentleman would
accompany me home.
_Charudatta._ Maitreya, pray accompany our guest.
_Maitreya._ She walks as gracefully as a female swan, and you are
the gay flamingo to accompany her. But I am only a poor Brahman,
and wherever I go, the people will fall upon me just as dogs will
snap at a victim dragged to the cross-roads.
_Charudatta._ Very well. I will accompany her myself. Let the
torches be lighted, to ensure our safety on the highway.
_Maitreya._ Vardhamanaka, light the torches.
_Vardhamanaka._ [_Aside to Maitreya._] What! light torches without
oil?
_Maitreya._ [_Aside to Charudatta._] These torches of ours are like
courtezans who despise their poor lovers. They won't light up unless
you feed them.
[25.23. S.
_Charudatta._ Enough, Maitreya! We need no torches. See, we have
a lamp upon the king's highway.
Attended by her starry servants all,
And pale to see as a loving maiden's cheeks,
Rises before our eyes the moon's bright ball,
Whose pure beams on the high-piled darkness fall
Like streaming milk that dried-up marshes seeks. 57
[_His voice betraying his passion._] Mistress Vasantasena, we have
reached your home. Pray enter. [_Vasantasena gazes ardently at him,
then exit._] Comrade, Vasantasena is gone. Come, let us go home.
All creatures from the highway take their flight;
The watchmen pace their rounds before our sight;
To forestall treachery, is just and right,
For many sins find shelter in the night. 58
[_He walks about._] And you shall guard this golden casket by night,
and Vardhamanaka by day.
_Maitreya._ Very well. [_Exeunt ambo._
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 30: During the mating season, a fragrant liquor exudes from
the forehead of the elephant. Of this liquor bees are very fond.]
[Footnote 31: The most striking peculiarity of Sansthanaka's
dialect--his substitution of _sh_ for _s_--I have tried to imitate in
the translation.]
[Footnote 32: Red arsenic, used as a cosmetic.]
[Footnote 33: Here, as elsewhere, Sansthanaka's mythology is wildly
confused. To a Hindu the effect must be ludicrous enough; but the humor
is necessarily lost in a translation. It therefore seems hardly worth
while to explain his mythological vagaries in detail.]
[Footnote 34: A name of Krishna, who is perhaps the most amorous
character in Indian story.]
[Footnote 35: Cupid.]
[Footnote 36: The five deadly sins are: the slaying of a Brahman, the
drinking of wine, theft, adultery with the wife of one's teacher, and
association with one guilty of these crimes.]
[Footnote 37: These are all epithets of the same god.]
[Footnote 38: Which look pretty, but do not rain. He doubtless means to
suggest that the cloak, belonging to a strange man, is as useless to
Vasantasena as the veil of autumn clouds to the earth.]
ACT THE SECOND
THE SHAMPOOER[39] WHO GAMBLED
[_Enter a maid._]
_Maid._
I am sent with a message to my mistress by her mother. I must
go in and find my mistress. [_She walks about and looks around
her._] There is my mistress. She is painting a picture, and putting
her whole heart into it. I must go and speak to her.
[_Then appear the love-lorn Vasantasena, seated, and Madanika._]
_Vasantasena._ Well, girl, and then--
_Madanika._ But mistress, you were not speaking of anything. What
do you mean?
_Vasantasena._ Why, what did I say?
_Madanika._ You said, "and then"--
_Vasantasena._ [_Puckering her brows._] Oh, yes. So I did.
_Maid._ [_Approaching._] Mistress, your mother sends word that you
should bathe and then offer worship to the gods.
_Vasantasena._ You may tell my mother that I shall not take the
ceremonial bath to-day. A Brahman must offer worship in my place.
_Maid._ Yes, mistress. [_Exit._
_Madanika._ My dear mistress, it is love, not naughtiness, that asks
the question--but what does this mean?
_Vasantasena._ Tell me, Madanika. How do I seem to you?
_Madanika._ My mistress is so absent-minded that I know her heart
is filled with longing for somebody.
_Vasantasena._ Well guessed. My Madanika is quick to fathom
another's heart.
_Madanika._ I am very, very glad. Yes, Kama is indeed mighty, and
his great festival is welcome when one is young. But tell me, mistress,
is it a king, or a king's favorite, whom you worship?
[28.1. S.
_Vasantasena._ Girl, I wish to love, not to worship.
_Madanika._ Is it a Brahman that excites your passion, some youth
distinguished for very particular learning?
_Vasantasena._ A Brahman I should have to reverence.
_Madanika._ Or is it some young merchant, grown enormously
wealthy from visiting many cities?
_Vasantasena._ A merchant, girl, must go to other countries and
leave you behind, no matter how much you love him. And the
separation makes you very sad.
_Madanika._ It isn't a king, nor a favorite, nor a Brahman, nor a
merchant. Who is it then that the princess loves?
_Vasantasena._ Girl! Girl! You went with me to the park where
Kama's temple stands?
_Madanika._ Yes, mistress.
_Vasantasena._ And yet you ask, as if you were a perfect stranger.
_Madanika._ Now I know. Is it the man who comforted you when
you asked to be protected?
_Vasantasena._ Well, what was his name?
_Madanika._ Why, he lives in the merchants' quarter.
_Vasantasena._ But I asked you for his name.
_Madanika._ His name, mistress, is a good omen in itself. His name
is Charudatta.
_Vasantasena._ [_Joyfully._] Good, Madanika, good. You have guessed
it.
_Madanika._ [_Aside._] So much for that. [_Aloud._] Mistress, they say
he is poor.
_Vasantasena._ That is the very reason why I love him. For a courtezan
who sets her heart on a poor man is blameless in the eyes of
the world.
P. 59.14]
_Madanika._ But mistress, do the butterflies visit the mango-tree
when its blossoms have fallen?
_Vasantasena._ That is just why we call _that_ sort of a girl a butterfly.
_Madanika._ Well, mistress, if you love him, why don't you go and
visit him at once?
_Vasantasena._ Girl, if I should visit him at once, then, because he
can't make any return--no, I don't mean that, but it would be
hard to see him.
_Madanika._ Is that the reason why you left your jewels with him?
_Vasantasena._ You have guessed it.
* * * * *
_A voice[40] behind the scenes_. Oh, sir, a shampooer owes me ten
gold-pieces, and he got away from us. Hold him, hold him! [_To the
fleeing shampooer._] Stop, stop! I see you from here. [_Enter hurriedly
a frightened shampooer._]
_Shampooer._ Oh, confound this gambling business!
Freed from its tether, the ace--
I might better say "ass"--how it kicks me!
And the cast of the dice called the "spear"
Proves true to its name; for it sticks me. 1
The keeper's whole attention
Was busy with the score;
So it took no great invention
To vanish through the door.
But I cannot stand forever
In the unprotected street.
Is there no one to deliver?
I would fall before his feet. 2
While the keeper and the gambler are looking somewhere else
for me, I'll just walk backwards into this empty temple and turn
goddess. [_He makes all sorts of gestures, takes his place, and waits._]
[_Enter Mathura and the gambler._]
[30.1. S.
_Mathura._ Oh, sir, a shampooer owes me ten gold-pieces, and he got
away from us. Hold him, hold him! Stop, stop! I see you from
here.
_Gambler._
You may run to hell, if they'll take you in;
With Indra, the god, you may stay:
For there's never a god can save your skin.
While Mathura wants his pay. 3
_Mathura._
Oh, whither flee you, nimble rambler.
You that cheat an honest gambler?
You that shake with fear and shiver.
All a-tremble, all a-quiver;
You that cannot trip enough.
On the level ground and rough;
You that stain your social station,
Family, and reputation! 4
_Gambler._ [_Examining the footprints._] Here he goes. And here the
tracks are lost.
_Mathura._ [_Gazes at the footprints. Reflectively._] Look! The feet are
turned around. And the temple hasn't any image. [_After a moment's
thought._] That rogue of a shampooer has gone into the temple
with his feet turned around.
_Gambler._ Let's follow him.
_Mathura._ All right. [_They enter the temple and take a good look,
then make signs to each other._]
_Gambler._ What! a wooden image?
_Mathura._ Of course not. It's stone. [_He shakes it with all his might,
then makes signs._] What do we care? Come, let's have a game. [_He
starts to gamble as hard as he can._]
_Shampooer._ [_Trying with all his might to repress the gambling
fever. Aside._] Oh, oh!
Oh, the rattle of dice is a charming thing,
When you haven't a copper left;
It works like a drum on the heart of a king,
Of all his realm bereft. 5
For gamblers leap down a mountain steep--
I know I shall not play.
Yet the rattle of dice is as sweet as the peep
Of nightingales in May. 6
_Gambler._ My turn, my turn!
P. 56.10]
_Mathura._ Not much! it's my turn.
_Shampooer._ [_Coming up quickly from behind._] Isn't it _my_ turn?
_Gambler._ We've got our man.
_Mathura._ [_Seizing him._] You jail-bird, you're caught. Pay me
my ten gold-pieces.
_Shampooer._ I'll pay you this very day.
_Mathura._ Pay me this very minute!
_Shampooer._ I'll pay you. Only have mercy!
_Mathura._ Come, will you pay me now?
_Shampooer._ My head is getting dizzy. [_He falls to the ground. The
others beat him with all their might._]
_Mathura._ There [_drawing the gamblers ring_] you're bound by
the gamblers' ring.
_Shampooer._ [_Rises. Despairingly._] What! bound by the gamblers'
ring? Confound it! That is a limit which we gamblers can't pass.
Where can I get the money to pay him?
_Mathura._ Well then, you must give surety.
_Shampooer._ I have an idea. [_He nudges the gambler._] I'll give you
half, if you'll forgive me the other half.
_Gambler._ All right.
_Shampooer._ [_To Mathura._] I'll give you surety for a half. You
might forgive me the other half.
_Mathura._ All right. Where's the harm?
_Shampooer._ [_Aloud._] You forgave me a half, sir?
[31.24. S.
_Mathura._ Yes.
_Shampooer._ [_To the gambler._] And you forgave me a half?
_Gambler._ Yes.
_Shampooer._ Then I think I'll be going.
_Mathura._ Pay me my ten gold-pieces! Where are you going?
_Shampooer._ Look at this, gentlemen, look at this! Here I just gave
surety to one of them for a half, and the other forgave me a half.
And even after that he is dunning me, poor helpless me!
_Mathura._ [_Seizing him._] My name is Mathura, the clever swindler,
and you're not going to swindle me this time. Pay up, jail-bird,
every bit of my money, and this minute, too.
_Shampooer._ How can I pay?
_Mathura._ Sell your father and pay.
_Shampooer._ Where can I get a father?
_Mathura._ Sell your mother and pay.
_Shampooer._ Where can I get a mother?
_Mathura._ Sell yourself and pay.
_Shampooer._ Have mercy! Lead me to the king's highway.
_Mathura._ Go ahead.
_Shampooer._ If it must be. [_He walks about._] Gentlemen, will you
buy me for ten gold-pieces from this gambling-master? [_He sees
a passer-by and calls out._] What is that? You wish to know what
I can do? I will be your house-servant. What! he has gone without
even answering. Well, here's another. I'll speak to him. [_He repeats
his offer._] What! this one too takes no notice of me. He is
gone. Confound it! I've had hard luck ever since Charudatta lost
his fortune.
_Mathura._ Will you pay?
_Shampooer._ How can I pay? [_He falls down. Mathura drags him
about._] Good gentlemen, save me, save me! [_Enter Darduraka._]
P. 61.5]
_Darduraka._ Yes, gambling is a kingdom without a throne.
You do not mind defeat at all;
Great are the sums you spend and win;
While kingly revenues roll in,
Rich men, like slaves, before you fall. 7
And again:
You earn your coin by gambling,
Your friends and wife by gambling,
Your gifts and food by gambling;
Your last cent goes by gambling. 8
And again:
My cash was taken by the trey;
The deuce then took my health away;
The ace then set me on the street;
The four completed my defeat. 9
[_He looks before him._] Here comes Mathura, our sometime
gambling-master. Well, as I can't escape, I think I'll put on my veil.
[_He makes any number of gestures with his cloak, then examines it._]
This cloth is sadly indigent in thread;
This lovely cloth lets in a lot of light;
This cloth's protective power is nearly fled;
This cloth is pretty when it's rolled up tight. 10
Yet after all, what more could a poor saint do? For you see,
One foot I've planted in the sky,
The other on the ground must lie.[41]
The elevation's rather high,
But the sun stands it. Why can't I? 11
_Mathura._ Pay, pay!
_Shampooer._ How can I pay? [_Mathura drags him about._]
_Darduraka._ Well, well, what is this I see? [_He addresses a bystander._]
What did you say, sir? "This shampooer is being maltreated
by the gambling-master, and no one will save him"? I'll
save him myself. [_He presses forward._] Stand back, stand back!
[33.25. S.
[_He takes a look._] Well, if this isn't that swindler Mathura. And
here is the poor saintly shampooer; a saint to be sure,
Who does not hang with bended head
Rigid till set of sun,
Who does not rub his back with sand
Till boils begin to run,
Whose shins dogs may not browse upon,
As they pass him in their rambling.[42]
Why should this tall and dainty man
Be so in love with gambling? 12
Well, I must pacify Mathura. [_He approaches._] How do you do,
Mathura? [_Mathura returns the greeting._]
_Darduraka._ What does this mean?
_Mathura._ He owes me ten gold-pieces.
_Darduraka._ A mere bagatelle!
_Mathura._ [_Pulling the rolled-up cloak from under Darduraka's
arm._] Look, gentlemen, look! The man in the ragged cloak calls
ten gold-pieces a mere bagatelle.
_Darduraka._ My good fool, don't I risk ten gold-pieces on a cast
of the dice? Suppose a man has money--is that any reason why
he should put it in his bosom and show it? But you,
You'll lose your caste, you'll lose your soul,
For ten gold-pieces that he stole,
To kill a man that's sound and whole,
With five good senses in him. 13
_Mathura._ Ten gold-pieces may be a mere bagatelle to you, sir. To
me they are a fortune.
_Darduraka._ Well then, listen to me. Just give him ten more, and
let him go to gambling again.
_Mathura._ And what then?
_Darduraka._ If he wins, he will pay you.
P. 63.12]
_Mathura._ And if he doesn't win?
_Darduraka._ Then he won't pay you.
_Mathura._ This is no time for nonsense. If you say that, you can
give him the money yourself. My name is Mathura. I'm a swindler
and I play a crooked game, and I'm not afraid of anybody. You
are an immoral scoundrel.
_Darduraka._ Who did you say was immoral?
_Mathura._ You're immoral.
_Darduraka._ Your father is immoral. [_He gives the shampooer a
sign to escape._]
_Mathura._ You cur! That is just the way that you gamble.
_Darduraka._ That is the way I gamble?
_Mathura._ Come, shampooer, pay me my ten gold-pieces.
_Shampooer._ I'll pay you this very day. I'll pay at once. [_Mathura
drags him about._]
_Darduraka._ Fool! You may maltreat him when I am away, but
not before my eyes.
[_Mathura seizes the shampooer and hits him on the nose. The shampooer
bleeds, faints, and falls flat. Darduraka approaches and interferes.
Mathura strikes Darduraka, and Darduraka strikes back._]
_Mathura._ Oh, oh, you accursèd hound! But I'll pay you for this.
_Darduraka._ My good fool, I was walking peaceably along the
street, and you struck me. If you strike me to-morrow in court,
then you will open your eyes.
_Mathura._ Yes, I'll open my eyes.
_Darduraka._ How will you open your eyes?
_Mathura._ [_Opening his eyes wide._] This is the way I'll open my
eyes.
[_Darduraka throws dust in Mathura's eyes, and gives the shampooer
a sign to escape. Mathura shuts his eyes and falls down. The shampooer
escapes._]
[35.20. S.
_Darduraka._ [_Aside._] I have made an enemy of the influential
gambling-master Mathura. I had better not stay here. Besides, my
good friend Sharvilaka told me that a young herdsman named
Aryaka has been designated by a soothsayer as our future king.
Now everybody in my condition is running after him. I think I
will join myself to him. [_Exit._
_Shampooer._ [_Trembles as he walks away and looks about him._] Here
is a house where somebody has left the side-door open. I will go
in. [_He enters and perceives Vasantasena._] Madam, I throw myself
upon your protection.
_Vasantasena._ He who throws himself upon my protection shall be
safe. Close the door, girl. [_The maid does so._]
_Vasantasena._ What do you fear?
_Shampooer._ A creditor, madam.
_Vasantasena._ You may open the door now, girl.
_Shampooer._ [_To himself._] Ah! Her reasons for not fearing a creditor
are in proportion to her innocence. The proverb is right:
The man who knows his strength and bears a load
Proportioned to that strength, not more nor less,
Is safe from stumbling and from sore distress,
Although he wander on a dreary road. 14
That means me.
_Mathura._ [_Wiping his eyes. To the gambler._] Pay, pay!
_Gambler._ While we were quarreling with Darduraka, sir, the
man escaped.
_Mathura._ I broke that shampooer's nose for him with my fist
Come on! Let's trace him by the blood. [_They do so._]
_Gambler._ He went into Vasantasena's house, sir.
_Mathura._ Then that is the end of the gold-pieces.
_Gambler._ Let's go to court and lodge a complaint.
P. 67.1]
_Mathura._ The swindler would leave the house and escape. No, we
must besiege him and so capture him.
* * * * *
[_Vasantasena gives Madanika a sign._]
_Madanika._ Whence are you, sir? or who are you, sir? or whose son
are you, sir? or what is your business, sir? or what are you afraid of?
_Shampooer._ Listen, madam. My birthplace is Pataliputra, madam.
I am the son of a householder. I practise the trade of a shampooer.
_Vasantasena._ It is a very dainty art, sir, which you have mastered.
_Shampooer._ Madam, as an art I mastered it. It has now become a
mere trade.
_Madanika._ Your answers are most disconsolate, sir. Pray continue.
_Shampooer._ Yes, madam. When I was at home, I used to hear travelers
tell tales, and I wanted to see new countries, and so I came here. And
when I had come here to Ujjayini, I became the servant of a noble
gentleman. Such a handsome, courteous gentleman! When he gave money
away, he did not boast; when he was injured, he forgot it. To cut a long
story short: he was so courteous that he regarded his own person as the
possession of others, and had compassion on all who sought his
protection.
_Madanika._ Who may it be that adorns Ujjayini with the virtues
which he has stolen from the object of my mistress' desires?
_Vasantasena._ Good, girl, good! I had the same thought in mind.
_Madanika._ But to continue, sir--
_Shampooer._ Madam, he was so compassionate and so generous that
now--
_Vasantasena._ His riches have vanished?
_Shampooer._ I didn't say it. How did you guess it, madam?
_Vasantasena._ What was there to guess? Virtue and money seldom
keep company. In the pools from which men cannot drink there
is so much the more water.
_Madanika._ But sir, what is his name?
[37.23. S.
_Shampooer._ Madam, who does not know the name of this moon
of the whole world? He lives in the merchants' quarter. He whose
name is worthy of all honor is named Charudatta.
_Vasantasena._ [_Joyfully rising from her seat._] Sir, this house is your
own. Give him a seat, girl, and take this fan. The gentleman is
weary. [_Madanika does as she is bid._]
_Shampooer._ [_Aside._] What! so much honor because I mentioned
Charudatta's name? Heaven bless you, Charudatta! You are the
only man in the world who really lives. All others merely breathe.
[_He falls at Vasantasena's feet._] Enough, madam, enough. Pray
be seated, madam.
_Vasantasena._ [_Seating herself._] Where is he who is so richly your
creditor, sir?
_Shamp._
The good man's wealth consists in kindly deeds;
All other wealth is vain and quickly flies.
The man who honors not his neighbor's needs,
Does that man know what honor signifies? 15
_Vasantasena._ But to continue--
_Shampooer._ So I became a servant in his employ. And when his
wealth was reduced to his virtue, I began to live by gambling. But
fate was cruel, and I lost ten gold-pieces.
_Mathura._ I am ruined! I am robbed!
_Shampooer._ There are the gambling-master and the gambler, looking
for me. You have heard my story, madam. The rest is your
affair.
_Vasantasena._ Madanika, the birds fly everywhither when the tree
is shaken in which they have their nests. Go, girl, and give the
gambling-master and the gambler this bracelet. And tell them that
this gentleman sends it. [_She removes a bracelet from her arm, and
gives it to Madanika._]
_Madanika._ [_Receiving the bracelet._] Yes, mistress. [_She goes out._]
P. 71.2]
_Mathura._ I am ruined! I am robbed!
_Madanika._ Inasmuch as these two are looking up to heaven, and
sighing, and chattering, and fastening their eyes on the door, I
conclude that they must be the gambling-master and the gambler.
[_Approaching._] I salute you, sir.
_Mathura._ May happiness be yours.
_Madanika._ Sir, which of you is the gambling-master?
_Math._
O maiden, fair but something less than shy,
With red lip wounded in love's ardent play,
On whom is bent that sweet, coquettish eye?
For whom that lisp that steals the heart away? 16
_I_ haven't got any money. You'll have to look somewhere else.
_Madanika._ You are certainly no gambler, if you talk that way.
Is there any one who _owes_ you money?
_Mathura._ There is. He owes ten gold-pieces. What of him?
_Madanika._ In his behalf my mistress sends you this bracelet. No,
no! He sends it himself.
_Mathura._ [_Seizing it joyfully._] Well, well, you may tell the noble
youth that his account is squared. Let him come and seek delight
again in gambling. [_Exeunt Mathura and the gambler._
* * * * *
_Madanika._ [_Returning to Vasantasena._] Mistress, the gambling-master
and the gambler have gone away well-pleased.
_Vasantasena._ Go, sir, and comfort your kinsfolk.
_Shampooer._ Ah, madam, if it may be, these hands would gladly
practise their art in your service.
_Vasantasena._ But sir, he for whose sake you mastered the art,
who first received your service, he should have your service still.
_Shampooer._ [_Aside._] A very pretty way to decline my services. How
shall I repay her kindness? [_Aloud._] Madam, thus dishonored as a
gambler, I shall become a Buddhist monk. And so, madam, treasure these
words in your memory: "He was a shampooer, a gambler, a Buddhist monk."
[40.1. S.
_Vasantasena._ Sir, you must not act too precipitately.
_Shampooer._ Madam, my mind is made up. [_He walks about._]
I gambled, and in gambling I did fall,
Till every one beheld me with dismay.
Now I shall show my honest face to all,
And walk abroad upon the king's highway. 17
[_Tumultuous cries behind the scenes._]
_Shampooer._ [_Listening._] What is this? What is this? [_Addressing
some one behind the scenes._] What did you say? "Post-breaker,
Vasantasena's rogue elephant, is at liberty!" Hurrah! I must go
and see the lady's best elephant. No, no! What have I to do with
these things? I must hold to my resolution. [_Exit._
[_Then enter hastily Karnapuraka, highly delighted, wearing a gorgeous
mantle._]
_Karnapuraka._ Where is she? Where is my mistress?
_Madanika._ Insolent! What can it be that so excites you? You do
not see your mistress before your very eyes.
_Karnapuraka._ [_Perceiving Vasantasena._] Mistress, my service to
you.
_Vasantasena._ Karnapuraka, your face is beaming. What is it?
_Karnapuraka._ [_Proudly._] Oh, mistress! You missed it! You didn't
see Karnapuraka's heroism to-day!
_Vasantasena._ What, Karnapuraka, what?
_Karnapuraka._ Listen. Post-breaker, my mistress' rogue elephant,
broke the stake he was tied to, killed his keeper, and ran into the
street, making a terrible commotion. You should have heard the
people shriek,
Take care of the babies, as quick as you can.
And climb up a roof or a tree!
The elephant rogue wants the blood of a man.
Escape! Run away! Can't you see? 18
P. 74.14]
And:
How they lose their ankle-rings!
Girdles, set with gems and things,
Break away from fastenings!
As they stumble, trip, and blunder,
See the bracelets snap asunder,
Each a tangled, pearly wonder! 19
And that rogue of an elephant dives with his trunk and his feet
and his tusks into the city of Ujjayini, as if it were a lotus-pond
in full flower. At last he comes upon a Buddhist monk.[43] And
while the man's staff and his water-jar and his begging-bowl fly
every which way, he drizzles water over him and gets him between
his tusks. The people see him and begin to shriek again,
crying "Oh, oh, the monk is killed!"
_Vasantasena._ [_Anxiously._] Oh, what carelessness, what carelessness!
_Karnapuraka._ Don't be frightened. Just listen, mistress. Then,
with a big piece of the broken chain dangling about him, he picked
him up, picked up the monk between his tusks, and just then
Karnapuraka saw him, _I_ saw him, no, no! the slave who grows
fat on my mistress' rice-cakes saw him, stumbled with his left
foot over a gambler's score, grabbed up an iron pole out of a shop,
and challenged the mad elephant--
_Vasantasena._ Go on! Go on!
_Karnap._
I hit him--in a fit of passion, too--
He really looked like some great mountain peak.
And from between those tusks of his I drew
The sacred hermit meek. 20
_Vasantasena._ Splendid, splendid! But go on!
_Karnapuraka._ Then, mistress, all Ujjayini tipped over to one side,
like a ship loaded unevenly, and you could hear nothing but "Hurrah,
hurrah for Karnapuraka!" Then, mistress, a man touched the
places where he ought to have ornaments, and, finding that he
hadn't any, looked up, heaved a long sigh, and threw this mantle
over me.
[41.19. S.
_Vasantasena._ Find out, Karnapuraka, whether the mantle is perfumed
with jasmine or not.
_Karnapuraka._ Mistress, the elephant perfume is so strong that I
can't tell for sure.
_Vasantasena._ Then look at the name.
_Karnapuraka._ Here is the name. You may read it, mistress. [_He
hands her the mantle._]
_Vasantasena._ [_Reads._] Charudatta. [_She seizes the mantle eagerly
and wraps it about her._]
_Madanika._ The mantle is very becoming to her, Karnapuraka.
_Karnapuraka._ Oh, yes, the mantle is becoming enough.
_Vasantasena._ Here is your reward, Karnapuraka. [_She gives him
a gem._]
_Karnapuraka._ [_Taking it and bowing low._] Now the mantle is
most wonderfully becoming.
_Vasantasena._ Karnapuraka, where is Charudatta now?
_Karnapuraka._ He started to go home along this very street.
_Vasantasena._ Come, girl! Let us go to the upper balcony and see
Charudatta. [_Exeunt omnes._
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 39: Perhaps masseur would be more accurate.]
[Footnote 40: That of Mathura, the keeper of the gambling house.]
[Footnote 41: A humorously exaggerated reference to Indian ascetic
practices.]
[Footnote 42: See note on page 33.]
[Footnote 43: The shampooer, whose transformation is astonishingly
sudden.]
ACT THE THIRD
THE HOLE IN THE WALL
[_Enter Charudatta's servant, Vardhamanaka._]
_Vardh._
A master, kindly and benevolent,
His servants love, however poor he be.
The purse-proud, with a will on harshness bent,
Pays service in the coin of cruelty. 1
And again:
A bullock greedy for a feast of corn
You never can prevent;
A wife who wants her lord to wear a horn
You never can prevent;
A man who loves to gamble night and morn
You never can prevent;
And blemishes[44] that with a man are born
You never can prevent. 2
It is some time since Charudatta went to the concert. It is past
midnight, and still he does not come. I think I will go into the
outer hall and take a nap. [_He does so._]
* * * * *
[_Enter Charudatta and Maitreya._]
_Charudatta._ How beautifully Rebhila sang! The lute is indeed a
pearl, a pearl not of the ocean.
Gently the anxious lover's heart befriending,
Consoling when true lovers may not meet,
To love-lorn souls the dearest comforts sending,
It adds to sweetest love its more of sweet. 3
_Maitreya._ Well then, let's go into the house.
_Charudatta._ But how wonderfully Master Rebhila sang!
[44.1. S
_Maitreya._ There are just two things that always make me laugh.
One is a woman talking Sanskrit, and the other is a man who tries
to sing soft and low. Now when a woman talks Sanskrit, she is like
a heifer with a new rope through her nose; all you hear is "soo,
soo, soo." And when a man tries to sing soft and low, he reminds
me of an old priest muttering texts, while the flowers in his chaplet
dry up. No, I don't like it!
_Charudatta._ My friend, Master Rebhila sang most wonderfully
this evening. And still you are not satisfied.
The notes of love, peace, sweetness, could I trace,
The note that thrills, the note of passion too,
The note of woman's loveliness and grace--
Ah, my poor words add nothing, nothing new!
But as the notes in sweetest cadence rang,
I thought it was my hidden love who sang. 4
The melody of song, the stricken strings
In undertone that half-unconscious clings,
More clearly sounding when the passions rise,
But ever sweeter as the music dies.
Words that strong passion fain would say again,
Yet checks their second utterance--in vain;
For music sweet as this lives on, until
I walk as hearing sweetest music still. 5
_Maitreya._ But see, my friend! The very dogs are sound asleep in
the shops that look out on the market. Let us go home. [_He looks
before him._] Look, look! The blessèd moon seems to give place to
darkness, as she descends from her palace in heaven.
_Charudatta._ True.
The moon gives place to darkness as she dips
Behind the western mountain; and the tips
Of her uplifted horns alone appear,
Like two sharp-pointed tusks uplifted clear,
Where bathes an elephant in waters cool,
Who shows naught else above the jungle pool. 6
P. 89.1]
_Maitreya._ Well, here is our house. Vardhamanaka, Vardhamanaka,
open the door!
_Vardhamanaka._ I hear Maitreya's voice. Charudatta has returned.
I must open the door for him. [_He does so._] Master, I salute you.
Maitreya, I salute you too. The couch is ready. Pray be seated.
[_Charudatta and Maitreya enter and seat themselves._]
_Maitreya._ Vardhamanaka, call Radanika to wash our feet.
_Charudatta._ [_Compassionately._] She sleeps. Do not wake her.
_Vardhamanaka._ I will bring the water, Maitreya, and you may
wash Charudatta's feet.
_Maitreya._ [_Angrily._] Look, man. He acts like the son of a slave
that he is, for he is bringing water. But he makes me wash your
feet, and I am a Brahman.
_Charudatta._ Good Maitreya, do you bring the water, and Vardhamanaka
shall wash my feet.
_Vardhamanaka._ Yes, Maitreya. Do you bring the water. [_Maitreya
does so. Vardhamanaka washes Charudatta's feet, then moves away._]
_Charudatta._ Let water be brought for the Brahman's feet.
_Maitreya._ What good does water do my feet? I shall have to roll
in the dirt again, like a beaten ass.
_Vardhamanaka._ Maitreya, you are a Brahman.
_Maitreya._ Yes, like a slow-worm among all the other snakes, so
am I a Brahman among all the other Brahmans.
_Vardhamanaka._ Maitreya, I will wash your feet after all. [_He does
so._] Maitreya, this golden casket I was to keep by day, you by
night. Take it. [_He gives it to Maitreya, then exit._
_Maitreya._ [_Receiving the casket._] The thing is here still. Isn't there
a single thief in Ujjayini to steal the wretch that robs me of my
sleep? Listen. I am going to take it into the inner court.
[46.1. S.
_Charud._
Such lax attention we can ill afford.
If we are trusted by a courtezan,
Then, Brahman, prove yourself an honest man,
And guard it safely, till it be restored. 7
[_He nods, repeating the stanza_ "The melody of song, the stricken
strings:" _page_ 44.]
_Maitreya._ Are you going to sleep?
_Charudatta._ Yes, so it seems.
For conquering sleep, descending on mine eyes,
First smites the brow with unresisted blow;
Unseen, elusive, like old age, she tries
To gather strength by weakening her foe. 8
_Maitreya._ Then let's go to sleep. [_He does so._]
* * * * *
[_Enter Sharvilaka._[45]]
_Sharv._
I made an entrance for my body's round
By force of art and arms, a path to deeds!
I skinned my sides by crawling on the ground,
Like a snake that sloughs the skin no longer sound:
And now I go where my profession leads. 9
[_He gazes at the sky. Joyfully._] See! The blessèd moon is setting.
For well I know,
My trade would fain from watchmen's eyes be shrouded;
Valiant, I force the dwelling of another.
But see, the stars in deepest dark are clouded,
And the night shields me like a careful mother. 10
I made a breach in the orchard wall and entered. And now I must force my
way into the inner court as well.
Yes, let men call it vulgar, if they will,
The trade that thrives while sleeps the sleepyhead;
Yes, knavery, not bravery, call it still,
To overreach confiding folk a-bed.
P. 86.9]
Far better blame and hissing, fairly won.
Than the pay of genuflecting underlings;
This antique path was trod by Drona's son,
Who slew the sleeping, unsuspecting kings. 11
But where shall I make the breach?
Where is the spot which falling drops decayed?
For each betraying sound is deadened there.
No yawning breach should in the walls be made,
So treatises on robbery declare.
Where does the palace crumble? Where the place
That niter-eaten bricks false soundness wear?
Where shall I 'scape the sight of woman's face?
Fulfilment of my wishes waits me there. 12
[_He feels the wall._] Here is a spot weakened by constant sun and
sprinkling and eaten by saltpeter rot. And here is a pile of dirt
thrown up by a mouse. Now heaven be praised! My venture prospers.
This is the first sign of success for Skanda's[46] sons. Now first
of all, how shall I make the breach? The blessèd Bearer of the
Golden Lance[47] has prescribed four varieties of breach, thus: if
the bricks are baked, pull them out; if they are unbaked, cut
them; if they are made of earth, wet them; if they are made of
wood, split them. Here we have baked bricks; ergo, pull out the
bricks.
Now what shall be the shape I give the breach?
A "lotus," "cistern," "crescent moon," or "sun"?
"Oblong," or "cross," or "bulging pot"? for each
The treatises permit. Which one? which one?
And where shall I display my sovereign skill,
That in the morning men may wonder still? 13
In this wall of baked bricks, the "bulging pot" would be effective. I
will make that.
[47.16. S.
At other walls that I have pierced by night,
And at my less successful ventures too,
The crowd of neighbors gazed by morning light,
Assigning praise or blame, as was my due. 14
Praise to the boon-conferring god, to Skanda of immortal youth!
Praise to him, the Bearer of the Golden Lance, the Brahman's
god, the pious! Praise to him, the Child of the Sun! Praise to him,
the teacher of magic, whose first pupil I am! For he found pleasure
in me and gave me magic ointment,
With which so I anointed be,
No watchman's eye my form shall see;
And edged sword that falls on me
From cruel wounds shall leave me free. 15
[_He anoints himself._] Alas, I have forgotten my measuring line.
[_Reflecting._] Aha! This sacred cord[48] shall be my measuring line.
Yes, the sacred cord is a great blessing to a Brahman, especially to one
like me. For, you see,
With this he measures, ere he pierce a wall,
And picks the lock, when jewels are at stake.
It serves as key to bolted door and hall,
As tourniquet for bite of worm and snake. 16
The measuring is done. I begin my task. [_He does so, then takes a
look._] My breach lacks but a single brick. Alas, I am bitten by a
snake. [_He binds his finger with the sacred cord, and manifests the
workings of poison._] I have applied the remedy, and now I am restored.
[_He continues his work, then gazes._] Ah, there burns a candle.
See!
Though jealous darkness hems it round,
The golden-yellow candle from its place
Shines through the breach upon the ground,
Like a streak of gold upon the touchstone's face. 17
P. 87.9]
[_He returns to his work._] The breach is finished. Good! I enter.
But no, I will not enter yet. I will shove a dummy in. [_He does
so._] Ah, no one is there. Praise be to Skanda! [_He enters and looks
about._] See! Two men asleep. Come, for my own protection I will
open the door. But the house is old and the door squeaks. I must
look for water. Now where might water be? [_He looks about, finds
water, and sprinkles the door. Anxiously._] I hope it will not fall
upon the floor and make a noise. Come, this is the way. [_He puts
his back against the door and opens it cautiously._] Good! So much
for that. Now I must discover whether these two are feigning
sleep, or whether they are asleep in the fullest meaning of the
term. [_He tries to terrify them, and notes the effect._] Yes, they must
be asleep in the fullest meaning of the term. For see!
Their breath first calmly rises, ere it sink;
Its regularity all fear defies.
Unmoving in their socket-holes, the eyes
Are tightly closed, and never seem to wink.
The limbs relaxed, at ease the bodies lie,
I see their feet beyond the bedstead peep,
The lighted candle vexes not the eye;
It would, if they were only feigning sleep. 18
[_He looks about him._] What! a drum? And here is a flute. And
here, a snare-drum. And here, a lute. And reed-pipes. And yonder,
manuscripts. Is this the house of a dancing-master? But no!
When I entered, I was convinced that this was a palatial residence.
Now then, is this man poor in the fullest meaning of the term, or,
from fear of the king or of thieves, does he keep his property
buried? Well, my own property is buried, too. But I will scatter
the seeds that betray subterranean gold. [_He does so._] The scattered
seeds nowhere swell up. Ah, he is poor in the fullest meaning
of the term. Good! I go.
_Maitreya._ [_Talking in his sleep._] Look, man. I see something like
a hole in the wall. I see something like a thief. You had better
take this golden casket.
[49.7. S
_Sharvilaka._ I wonder if the man has discovered that I have entered,
and is showing off his poverty in order to make fun of me.
Shall I kill him, or is the poor devil talking in his sleep? [_He takes
a look._] But see! This thing wrapped in a ragged bath-clout, now
that I inspect it by the light of my candle, is in truth a jewel-casket
Suppose I take it. But no! It is hardly proper to rob a
man of good birth, who is as poor as I am. I go.
_Maitreya._ My friend, by the wishes of cows and Brahmans[49] I conjure
you to take this golden casket.
_Sharvilaka._ One may not disregard the sacred wish of a cow and
the wish of a Brahman. I will take it. But look! There burns the
candle. I keep about me a moth for the express purpose of extinguishing
candles. I will let him enter the flame. This is his place
and hour. May this moth which I here release, depart to flutter
above the flame in varying circles. The breeze from the insect's
wings has translated the flame into accursèd darkness. Or shall I
not rather curse the darkness brought by me upon my Brahmanic
family? For my father was a man who knew the four Vedas, who
would not accept a gift; and I, Sharvilaka, his son, and a Brahman,
I am committing a crime for the sake of that courtezan girl
Madanika. Now I will grant the Brahman's wish. [_He reaches out
for the casket._]
_Maitreya._ How cold your fingers are, man!
_Sharvilaka._ What carelessness! My fingers are cold from touching
water. Well, I will put my hand in my armpit [_He warms his left hand
and takes the casket._]
_Maitreya._ Have you got it?
_Sharvilaka._ I could not refuse a Brahman's request. I have it.
P. 80.9]
_Maitreya._ Now I shall sleep as peacefully as a merchant who has
sold his wares.
_Sharvilaka._ O great Brahman, sleep a hundred years! Alas that a
Brahman family should thus be plunged in darkness for the sake
of Madanika, a courtezan! Or better, I myself am thus plunged
in darkness.
A curse on poverty, I say!
'T is stranger to the manly will;
This act that shuns the light of day
I curse indeed, but do it still. 19
Well then, I must go to Vasantasena's house to buy Madanika's
freedom. [_He walks about and looks around him._] Ah, I think I
hear footsteps. I hope they are not those of policemen. Never mind.
I will pretend to be a pillar, and wait. But after all, do policemen
exist for me, for Sharvilaka? Why, I am
A cat for crawling, and a deer for flight,
A hawk for rending, and a dog for sight
To judge the strength of men that wake or sleep,
A snake, when 't is advisable to creep,
Illusion's self, to seem a saint or rogue,
Goddess of Speech in understanding brogue;
A light in blackest night, in holes a lizard I can be,
A horse on terra firma, and a ship upon the sea. 20
And again:
Quick as a snake, and steady as a hill;
In flight the prince of birds can show no greater skill;
In searching on the ground I am as keen as any hare,
In strength I am a lion, and a wolf to rend and tear. 21
_Radanika._ [_Entering._] Dear me! Vardhamanaka went to sleep
in the outer court, and now he is not there. Well, I will call
Maitreya. [_She walks about._]
[51.1. S.
_Sharvilaka._ [_Prepares to strike down Radanika, but first takes a
look._] What! a woman? Good! I go. [_Exit._
* * * * *
_Radanika._ [_Recoiling in terror._] Oh, oh, a thief has cut a hole in
the wall of our house and is escaping, I must go and wake Maitreya.
[_She approaches Maitreya._] Oh, Maitreya, get up, get up!
A thief has cut a hole in the wall of our house and has escaped.
_Maitreya._ [_Rising._] What do you mean, wench? "A hole in the
wall has cut a thief and has escaped"?
_Radanika._ Poor fool! Stop your joking. Don't you see it?
_Maitreya._ What do you mean, wench? "It looks as if a second
door had been thrown open"? Get up, friend Charudatta, get up!
A thief has made a hole in the wall of our house and has escaped.
_Charudatta._ Yes, yes! A truce to your jests!
_Maitreya._ But it isn't a jest. Look!
_Charudatta._ Where?
_Maitreya._ Why, here.
_Charudatta._ [_Gazing._] What a very remarkable hole!
The bricks are drawn away below, above;
The top is narrow, but the center wide;
As if the great house-heart had burst with pride,
Fearing lest the unworthy share its love. 22
To think that science should be expended on a task like this!
_Maitreya._ My friend, this hole must have been made by one of
two men; either by a stranger, or else for practice by a student
of the science of robbery. For what man here in Ujjayini does
not know how much wealth there is in our house?
_Charud._
Stranger he must have been who made the breach,
His customed harvest in my house to reap;
He has not learned that vanished riches teach
A calm, untroubled sleep.
He saw the sometime greatness of my home
And forced an entrance; for his heart did leap
With short-lived hope; now he must elsewhere roam,
And over broken hopes must sorely weep. 23
Just think of the poor fellow telling his friends: "I entered the
house of a merchant's son, and found--nothing."
P. 92.4]
_Maitreya._ Do you mean to say that you pity the rascally robber? Thinks
he--"Here's a great house. Here's the place to carry off a jewel-casket
or a gold-casket." [_He remembers the casket. Despondently. Aside._]
Where _is_ that golden casket? [_He remembers the events of the night.
Aloud._] Look, man! You are always saying "Maitreya is a fool, Maitreya
is no scholar." But I certainly acted wisely in handing over that golden
casket to you. If I hadn't, the son of a slave would have carried it
off.
_Charudatta._ A truce to your jests!
_Maitreya._ Just because I'm a fool, do you suppose I don't even
know the place and time for a jest?
_Charudatta._ But when did this happen?
_Maitreya._ Why, when I told you that your fingers were cold.
_Charudatta._ It might have been. [_He searches about. Joyfully._]
My friend, I have something pleasant to tell you.
_Maitreya._ What? Wasn't it stolen?
_Charudatta._ Yes.
_Maitreya._ What is the pleasant news, then?
_Charudatta._ The fact that he did not go away disappointed.
_Maitreya._ But it was only entrusted to our care.
_Charudatta._ What! entrusted to our care? [_He swoons._]
_Maitreya._ Come to yourself, man. Is the fact that a thief stole what
was entrusted to you, any reason why you should swoon?
53.5. S.]
_Charudatta._ [_Coming to himself._] Ah, my friend,
Who will believe the truth?
Suspicion now is sure.
This world will show no ruth
To the inglorious poor. 24
Alas! If envious fate before
Has wooed my wealth alone.
Why should she seek my store
Of virtue as her own? 25
_Maitreya._ I intend to deny the whole thing. Who gave anybody
anything? who received anything from anybody? who was a witness?
_Charudatta._ And shall I tell a falsehood now?
No! I will beg until I earn
The wherewithal my debt to pay.
Ignoble falsehood I will spurn.
That steals the character away. 26
_Radanika._ I will go and tell his good wife. [_She goes out, returning
with Charudatta's wife._]
_Wife._ [_Anxiously._] Oh! Is it true that my lord is uninjured, and
Maitreya too?
_Radanika._ It is true, mistress. But the gems which belong to the
courtezan have been stolen. [_Charudatta's wife swoons._] O my good
mistress! Come to yourself!
_Wife._ [_Recovering._] Girl, how can you say that my lord is uninjured?
Better that he were injured in body than in character. For
now the people of Ujjayini will say that my lord committed this
crime because of his poverty. [_She looks up and sighs._] Ah, mighty
Fate! The destinies of the poor, uncertain as the water-drops which
fall upon a lotus-leaf, seem to thee but playthings. There remains
to me this one necklace, which I brought with me from my mother's
house. But my lord would be too proud to accept it. Girl,
call Maitreya hither.
P. 95.7]
_Radanika._ Yes, mistress. [_She approaches Maitreya._] Maitreya,
my lady summons you.
_Maitreya._ Where is she?
_Radanika._ Here. Come!
_Maitreya._ [_Approaching._] Heaven bless you!
_Wife._ I salute you, sir. Sir, will you look straight in front of you?
_Maitreya._ Madam, here stands a man who looks straight in front
of him.
_Wife._ Sir, you must accept this.
_Maitreya._ Why?
_Wife._ I have observed the Ceremony of the Gems. And on this
occasion one must make as great a present as one may to a Brahman.
This I have not done, therefore pray accept this necklace.
_Maitreya._ [_Receiving the necklace._] Heaven bless you! I will go
and tell my friend.
_Wife._ You must not do it in such a way as to make me blush,
Maitreya. [_Exit._
_Maitreya._ [_In astonishment._] What generosity!
* * * * *
_Charudatta._ How Maitreya lingers! I trust his grief is not leading
him to do what he ought not. Maitreya, Maitreya!
_Maitreya._ [_Approaching._] Here I am. Take that. [_He displays the
necklace._]
_Charudatta._ What is this?
_Maitreya._ Why, that is the reward you get for marrying such a
wife.
_Charudatta._ What! my wife takes pity on me? Alas, now am I
poor indeed!
When fate so robs him of his all,
That on her pity he must call,
The man to woman's state doth fall,
The woman is the man. 27
But no, I am not poor. For I have a wife
Whose love outlasts my wealthy day;
In thee a friend through good and ill;
And truth that naught could take away:
Ah! this the poor man lacketh still. 28
[55.9. S.
Maitreya, take the necklace and go to Vasantasena. Tell her in
my name that we have gambled away the golden casket, forgetting
that it was not our own, that we trust she will accept this
necklace in its place.
_Maitreya._ But you must not give away this necklace, the pride of
the four seas, for that cheap thing that was stolen before we had
a bite or a drink out of it.
_Charudatta._ Not so, my friend.
She showed her trust in leaving us her treasure;
The price of confidence has no less measure. 29
Friend, I conjure you by this gesture, not to return until you have
delivered it into her hands. Vardhamanaka, do you speedily
Fill up the opening with the selfsame bricks;
Thus will I thwart the process of the law,
For the blemish of so great a scandal sticks. 30
And, friend Maitreya, you must show your pride by not speaking
too despondently.
_Maitreya._ How can a poor man help speaking despondently?
_Charudatta._ Poor I am not, my friend. For I have a wife
Whose love outlasts my wealthy day;
In thee a friend through good and ill;
And truth that naught could take away:
Ah, this the poor man lacketh still. (28)
Go then, and after performing rites of purification, I will offer
my morning prayer. [_Exeunt omnes._
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 44: This refers to Charudatta's generosity, which continues
after his wealth has vanished.]
[Footnote 45: The following scene satirises the Hindu love of system and
classification.]
[Footnote 46: The patron saint of thieves.]
[Footnote 47: An epithet of Skanda.]
[Footnote 48: The sacrificial cord, which passes over the left shoulder
and under the right arm, is worn constantly by members of the three
upper castes.]
[Footnote 49: Sacred creatures.]
ACT THE FOURTH
MADANIKA AND SHARVILAKA
[_Enter a maid._]
_Maid._
I am entrusted with a message for my mistress by her mother.
Here is my mistress. She is gazing at a picture and is talking
with Madanika. I will go to her. [_She walks about. Then enter
Vasantasena as described, and Madanika._]
_Vasantasena._ Madanika girl, is this portrait really like Charudatta?
_Madanika._ Very like.
_Vasantasena._ How do you know?
_Madanika._ Because my mistress' eyes are fastened so lovingly
upon it.
_Vasantasena._ Madanika girl, do you say this because courtezan
courtesy demands it?
_Madanika._ But mistress, is the courtesy of a girl who lives in a
courtezan's house, necessarily false?
_Vasantasena._ Girl, courtezans meet so many kinds of men that
they do learn a false courtesy.
_Madanika._ But when the eyes of my mistress find such delight in
a thing, and her heart too, what need is there to ask the reason?
_Vasantasena._ But I should not like to have my friends laugh at me.
_Madanika._ You need not be afraid. Women understand women.
_Maid._ [_Approaching._] Mistress, your mother sends word that a
covered cart is waiting at the side-door, and that you are to take
a drive.
_Vasantasena._ Tell me, is it Charudatta who invites me?
_Maid._ Mistress, the man who sent ornaments worth ten thousand
gold-pieces with the cart--
[58.6. S.
_Vasantasena._ Is who?
_Maid._ Is the king's brother-in-law, Sansthanaka.
_Vasantasena._ [_Indignantly._] Go! and never come again on such
an errand.
_Maid._ Do not be angry, mistress. I was only sent with the message.
_Vasantasena._ But it is the message which makes me angry.
_Maid._ But what shall I tell your mother?
_Vasantasena._ Tell my mother never to send me another such
message, unless she wishes to kill me.
_Maid._ As you will. [_Exit._] [_<Enter Sharvilaka._]
_Sharv._
Blame for my sin I laid upon the night;
I conquered sleep and watchmen of the king;
But darkness wanes, and in the sun's clear light
My light is like the moon's--a faded thing. 1
And again:
Whoever cast at me a passing look,
Or neared me, anxious, as they quickly ran,
All such my laden soul for foes mistook;
For sin it was wherein man's fear began. 2
Well, it was for Madanika's sake that I did the deed of sin.
I paid no heed to any one who talked with serving-men;
The houses ruled by women-folk--these I avoided most;
And when policemen seemed to have me almost in their ken,
I stood stock-still and acted just exactly like a post.
A hundred such manoeuvres did I constantly essay,
And by such means succeeded in turning night to day. 3
[_He walks about._]
_Vasantasena._ Girl, lay this picture on my sofa and come back at
once with a fan.
_Madanika._ Yes, mistress. [_Exit with the picture._
_Sharvilaka._ This is Vasantasena's house. I will enter. [_He does so._]
P. 101.11]
I wonder where I can find Madanika. [_Enter Madanika with the
fan. Sharvilaka discovers her._] Ah, it is Madanika.
Surpassing Madana[50] himself in charm,
She seems the bride of Love, in human guise;
Even while my heart the flames of passion harm,
She brings a sandal[51] coolness to my eyes. 4
Madanika!
_Madanika._ [_Discovers Sharvilaka._] Oh, oh, oh, Sharvilaka! I am so
glad, Sharvilaka. Where have you been?
_Sharvilaka._ I will tell you. [_They gaze at each other passionately._]
_Vasantasena._ How Madanika lingers! I wonder where she is. [_She
looks through a bull's-eye window._] Why, there she stands, talking
with a man. Her loving glance does not waver, and she gazes as
if she would drink him in. I imagine he must be the man who
wishes to make her free. Well, let her stay, let her stay. Never interrupt
anybody's happiness. I will not call her.
_Madanika._ Tell me, Sharvilaka. [_Sharvilaka looks about him uneasily._]
What is it, Sharvilaka? You seem uneasy.
_Sharvilaka._ I will tell you a secret. Are we alone?
_Madanika._ Of course we are.
_Vasantasena._ What! a deep secret? I will not listen.
_Sharvilaka._ Tell me, Madanika. Will Vasantasena take a price for
your freedom?
_Vasantasena._ The conversation has to do with me? Then I will
hide behind this window and listen.
_Madanika._ I asked my mistress about it, Sharvilaka, and she said
that if she could have _her_ way, she would free all her servants for
nothing. But Sharvilaka, where did you find such a fortune that
you can think of buying my freedom from my mistress?
_Sharvilaka._
A victim to my pauper plight,
And your sweet love to win,
For you, my timid maid, last night
I did the deed of sin. 5
[60.16. S.
_Vasantasena._ His face is tranquil. It would be troubled, if he had
sinned.
_Madanika._ Oh, Sharvilaka! For a mere nothing--for a woman--you
have risked both things!
_Sharvilaka._ What things?
_Madanika._ Your life and your character.
_Sharvilaka._ My foolish girl, fortune favors the brave.
_Madanika._ Oh, Sharvilaka! Your character was without a stain.
You didn't do anything _very_ bad, did you, when for my sake you
did the deed of sin?
_Sharv._
The gems that magnify a woman's charm,
As flowers the creeping plant, I do not harm.
I do not rob the Brahman of his pelf,
Nor seize the sacrificial gold myself.
I do not steal the baby from the nurse,
Simply because I need to fill my purse.
Even as a thief, I strive with main and might
For just distinction 'twixt the wrong and right. 6
And so you may tell Vasantasena this:
These ornaments were made for you to don,
Or so it seems to me;
But as you love me, never put them on
Where other folks may see. 7
_Madanika._ But Sharvilaka, ornaments that nobody may see, and
a courtezan--the two things do not hang together. Give me the
jewels. I want to see them.
_Sharvilaka._ Here they are. [_He gives them to her with some uneasiness._]
_Madanika._ [_Examining the jewels._] It seems to me I have seen
these before. Tell me. Where did you get them?
P. 104.15]
_Sharvilaka._ What does that matter to you, Madanika? Take them.
_Madanika._ [_Angrily._] If you can't trust me, why do you wish to
buy my freedom?
_Sharvilaka._ Well, this morning I heard in the merchants' quarter
that the merchant Charudatta--
[_Vasantasena and Madanika swoon._]
_Sharvilaka._ Madanika! Come to yourself! Why is it that now
Your figure seems to melt in limp despair,
Your eyes are wildly rolling here and there?
That when I come, sweet girl, to make you free,
You fall to trembling, not to pitying me? 8
_Madanika._ [_Coming to herself._] O you reckless man! When you
did what you ought not to have done for my sake, you didn't kill
anybody or hurt anybody in that house?
_Sharvilaka._ Madanika, Sharvilaka does not strike a terrified man
or a man asleep. I did not kill anybody nor hurt anybody.
_Madanika._ Really?
_Sharvilaka._ Really.
_Vasantasena._ [_Recovering consciousness._] Ah, I breathe again.
_Madanika._ Thank heaven!
_Sharvilaka._ [_Jealously._] What does this "Thank heaven" mean,
Madanika?
I sinned for you, when love had made me pine,
Although my house was good since time began;
Love took my virtue, but my pride is mine.
_You_ call me friend and love another man? 9
[_Meaningly._]
A noble youth is like a goodly tree;
His wealth, the fruit so fair;
The courtezan is like a bird; for she
Pecks him and leaves him bare. 10
Love is a fire, whose flame is lust,
Whose fuel is gallantry,
Wherein our youth and riches must
Thus sacrificèd be. 11
[62.16. S.
_Vasantasena._ [_With a smile._] His excitement is a little out of
place.
_Sharvilaka._ Yes!
Those men are fools, it seems to me,
Who trust to women or to gold;
For gold and girls, 'tis plain to see.
Are false as virgin snakes and cold. 12
Love not a woman; if you ever do,
She mocks at you, and plays the gay deceiver:
Yet if she loves you, you may love her too;
But if she doesn't, leave her. 13
Too true it is that
A courtezan will laugh and cry for gold;
She trusts you not, but waits your trustful hour.
If virtue and a name are yours, then hold!
Avoid her as you would a graveyard flower. 14
And again:
As fickle as the billows of the sea,
Glowing no longer than the evening sky,
A woman takes your gold, then leaves you free;
You're worthless, like cosmetics, when you're dry. 15
Yes, women are indeed fickle.
One man perhaps may hold her heart in trust,
She lures another with coquettish eyes,
Sports with another in unseemly lust,
Another yet her body satisfies. 16
As some one has well said:
On mountain-tops no lotuses are grown;
The horse's yoke no ass will ever bear;
Rice never springs from seeds of barley sown;
A courtezan is not an honest fair. 17
Accursèd Charudatta, you shall not live! [_He takes a few steps._]
P. 107.11]
_Madanika._ [_Seizing the hem of his garment._] O you foolish man!
Your anger is so ridiculous.
_Sharvilaka._ Ridiculous? how so?
_Madanika._ Because these jewels belong to my mistress.
_Sharvilaka._ And what then?
_Madanika._ And she left them with that gentleman.
_Sharvilaka._ What for?
_Madanika._ [_Whispers._] That's why.
_Sharvilaka._ [_Sheepishly._] Confound it!
The sun was hot one summer day;
I sought the shadow, there to stay:
Poor fool! the kindly branch to pay,
I stole its sheltering leaves away. 18
_Vasantasena._ How sorry he seems. Surely, he did this thing in
ignorance.
_Sharvilaka._ What is to be done now, Madanika?
_Madanika._ Your own wit should tell you that.
_Sharvilaka._ No. For you must remember,
Nature herself gives women wit;
Men learn from books a little bit. 19
_Madanika._ Sharvilaka, if you will take my advice, restore the
jewels to that righteous man.
_Sharvilaka._ But Madanika, what if he should prosecute me?
_Madanika._ No cruel heat comes from the moon.
_Vasantasena._ Good, Madanika, good!
_Sharvilaka._ Madanika,
For what I did, I feel no grief nor fear:
Why tell me of this good man's virtues high?
Shame for my baseness touches me more near;
What can this king do to such rogues as I? 20
Nevertheless, your suggestion is inconsistent with prudence. You
must discover some other plan.
[64.16. S.
_Madanika._ Yes, there is another plan.
_Vasantasena._ I wonder what it will be.
_Madanika._ Pretend to be a servant of that gentleman, and give
the jewels to my mistress.
_Sharvilaka._ And what then?
_Madanika._ Then you are no thief, Charudatta has discharged his
obligation, and my mistress has her jewels.
_Sharvilaka._ But isn't this course too reckless?
_Madanika._ I tell you, give them to her. Any other course is too
reckless.
_Vasantasena._ Good, Madanika, good! Spoken like a free woman.
_Sharvilaka._
Risen at last is wisdom's light.
Because I followed after you;
When clouds obscure the moon by night,
'Tis hard to find a guide so true. 21
_Madanika._ Then you must wait here a moment in Kama's shrine,
while I tell my mistress that you have come.
_Sharvilaka._ I will.
_Madanika._ [_Approaches Vasantasena._] Mistress, a Brahman has
come from Charudatta to see you.
_Vasantasena._ But girl, how do you know that he comes from
Charudatta?
_Madanika._ Should I not know my own, mistress?
_Vasantasena._ [_Shaking her head and smiling. Aside._] Splendid!
[_Aloud._] Bid him enter.
_Madanika._ Yes, mistress. [_Approaching Sharvilaka._] Enter, Sharvilaka.
_Sharvilaka._ [_Approaches. With some embarrassment._] My greetings
to you.
P. 110.8]
_Vasantasena._ I salute you, sir. Pray be seated.
_Sharvilaka._ The merchant sends this message: "My house is so
old that it is hard to keep this casket safe. Pray take it back."
[_He gives it to Madanika, and starts to leave._]
_Vasantasena._ Sir, will you undertake a return commission of mine?
_Sharvilaka._ [_Aside._] Who will carry it? [_Aloud._] And this commission
is--
_Vasantasena._ You will be good enough to accept Madanika.
_Sharvilaka._ Madam, I do not quite understand.
_Vasantasena._ But I do.
_Sharvilaka._ How so?
_Vasantasena._ Charudatta told me that I was to give Madanika to
the man who should return these jewels. You are therefore to
understand that he makes you a present of her.
_Sharvilaka._ [_Aside._] Ah, she sees through me. [_Aloud._] Good,
Charudatta, good!
On virtue only set your heart's desire;
The righteous poor attain to heights whereto
The wicked wealthy never may aspire. 22
And again:
On virtue let the human heart be set;
To virtue nothing serves as check or let
The moon, attaining unattainable, is led
By virtue to her seat on Shiva's head. 23
_Vasantasena._ Is my driver there? [_Enter a servant with a
bullock-cart._]
_Servant._ Mistress, the cart is ready.
_Vasantasena._ Madanika girl, you must show me a happy face.
You are free. Enter the bullock-cart. But do not forget me.
_Madanika._ [_Weeping._] My mistress drives me away. [_She falls at
her feet._]
_Vasantasena._ You are now the one to whom honor should be
paid.[52] Go then, enter the cart. But do not forget me.
[66.17. S.
_Sharvilaka._ Heaven bless you! and you, Madanika,
Turn upon her a happy face,
And hail with bended head the grace
That gives you now the name of wife.
As a veil to keep you safe through life. 24
[_He enters the bullock-cart with Madanika, and starts away._]
_A voice behind the scenes._ Men! Men! We have the following
orders from the chief of police: "A soothsayer has declared that
a young herdsman named Aryaka is to become king. Trusting to
this prophecy, and alarmed thereat, King Palaka has taken him
from his hamlet, and thrown him into strict confinement. Therefore
be watchful, and every man at his post."
_Sharvilaka._ [_Listening._] What! King Palaka has imprisoned my
good friend Aryaka? And here I am, a married man. Confound it!
But no,
Two things alone--his friend, his wife--
Deserve man's love below;
A hundred brides may forfeit life
Ere he should suffer so. 25
Good! I will get out [_He does so._]
_Madanika._ [_Folding her hands. Tearfully._] My lord, if you must,
at least bring me first to your parents.
_Sharvilaka._ Yes, my love. I will. I had the same thought in mind.
[_To the servant._] My good fellow, do you know the house of the
merchant Rebhila?
_Servant._ Certainly.
_Sharvilaka._ Bring my wife thither.
_Servant._ Yes, sir.
_Madanika_. If you desire it, dear. But dear, you must be very
careful. [_Exit._
P. 113.6]
_Sharvilaka._ Now as for me,
I'll rouse my kin, the kitchen cabinet.
Those high in fame by strength of good right arm,
And those who with the king's contempt have met,
And royal slaves, to save my friend from harm:
Like old Yaugandharayana
For the good king Udayana. 26
And again:
My friend has causeless been confined
By wicked foes of timid kind;
I fly, I fly to free him soon,
Like the eclipse-oppressèd moon. [_Exit._] 27
_Maid._ [_Entering._] Mistress, I congratulate you. A Brahman has
come with a message from Charudatta.
_Vasantasena._ Ah, this is a joyful day. Show him every mark of
respect, girl, and have him conducted hither by one of the pages.
_Maid._ Yes, mistress. [_Exit._
* * * * *
[_Enter Maitreya with a page._]
_Maitreya._ Well! Ravana, the king of the demons, travels with his
chariot that they call the "Blossom." He earned it by his penances.
Now I am a Brahman, and though I never performed any penances,
I travel with another sort of a blossom--a woman of the town.
_Maid._ Sir, will you inspect our gateway.
_Maitreya._ [_Gazes admiringly._] It has just been sprinkled and
cleaned and received a coat of green. The threshold of it is pretty
as a picture with the offerings of all sorts of fragrant flowers. It
stretches up its head as if it wanted to peep into the sky. It is
adorned with strings of jasmine garlands that hang down and toss
about like the trunk of the heavenly elephant. It shines with its
high ivory portal. It is lovely with any number of holiday banners
that gleam red as great rubies and wave their coquettish fingers as
they flutter in the breeze and seem to invite me to enter. Both
sides are decorated with holiday water-jars of crystal, which are
charming with their bright-green mango twigs, and are set at the
foot of the pillars that sustain the portal. The doors are of gold,
thickly set with diamonds as hard to pierce as a giant's breast.
It actually wearies a poor devil's envy. Yes, Vasantasena's house-door
is a beautiful thing. Really, it forcibly challenges the attention
of a man who doesn't care about such things.
[68.16. S.
_Maid._ Come, sir, and enter the first court.
_Maitreya._ [_Enters and looks about._] Well! Here in the first court
are rows of balconies brilliant as the moon, or as sea-shells, or as
lotus-stalks; whitened by handfuls of powder strewn over them;
gleaming with golden stairways inlaid with all sorts of gems: they
seem to gaze down on Ujjayini with their round faces, the crystal
windows, from which strings of pearls are dangling. The porter sits
there and snoozes as comfortably as a professor. The crows which
they tempt with rice-gruel and curdled milk will not eat the
offering, because they can't distinguish it from the mortar. Show
me the way, madam.
_Maid._ Come, sir, and enter the second court.
_Maitreya._ [_Enters and looks about._] Well! Here in the second
court the cart-bullocks are tied. They grow fat on mouthfuls of
grass and pulse-stalks which are brought them, right and left, by
everybody. Their horns are smeared with oil. And here is another,
a buffalo, snorting like a gentleman insulted. And here is a ram[53]
having his neck rubbed, like a prize-fighter after the fight. And
here are others, horses having their manes put in shape. And here
in a stall is another, a monkey, tied fast like a thief. [_He looks in
another direction._] And here is an elephant, taking from his drivers
a cake of rice and drippings and oil. Show me the way, madam.
_Maid._ Come, sir, and enter the third court.
_Maitreya._ [_Enters and looks about._] Well! Here in the third court
are these seats, prepared for young gentlemen to sit on. A half-read
book is lying on the gaming-table. And the table itself has
its own dice, made out of gems. And here, again, are courtezans
and old hangers-on at court, past masters in the war and peace of
love, wandering about and holding in their fingers pictures painted
in many colors. Show me the way, madam.
P. 117.4]
_Maid._ Come, sir, and enter the fourth court.
_Maitreya._ [_Enters and looks about._] Well! Here in the fourth
court the drums that maiden fingers beat are booming like the
thunder; the cymbals are falling, as the stars fall from heaven when
their merit is exhausted;[54] the pipe is discoursing music as sweet
as the humming of bees. And here, again, is a lute that somebody
is holding on his lap like a girl who is excited by jealousy and
love, and he is stroking it with his fingers. And here, again, are
courtezan girls that sing as charmingly as honey-drunken bees,
and they are made to dance and recite a drama with love in it.
And water-coolers are hanging in the windows so as to catch the
breeze. Show me the way, madam.
_Maid._ Come, sir, and enter the fifth court.
_Maitreya._ [_Enters and looks about._] Well! Here in the fifth court
the overpowering smell of asafetida and oil is attractive enough
to make a poor devil's mouth water. The kitchen is kept hot all
the time, and the gusts of steam, laden with all sorts of good
smells, seem like sighs issuing from its mouth-like doors. The
smell of the preparation of all kinds of foods and sauces makes me
smack my lips. And here, again, is a butcher's boy washing a mess
of chitterlings as if it were an old loin-cloth. The cook is preparing
every kind of food. Sweetmeats are being constructed, cakes
are being baked. [_To himself._] I wonder if I am to get a chance to
wash my feet and an invitation to eat what I can hold. [_He looks
in another direction._] There are courtezans and bastard pages,
adorned with any number of jewels, just like Gandharvas[55] and
Apsarases.[56] Really, this house is heaven. Tell me, who are you
bastards anyway?
[70.13. S.
_Pages._ Why, we are bastard pages--
Petted in a stranger's court.
Fed on stranger's food,
Stranger's money makes us sport--
Not so very good.
Stranger women gave us birth.
Stranger men begot;
Baby elephants in mirth,
We're a bastard lot. 28
_Maitreya._ Show me the way, madam.
_Maid._ Come, sir, and enter the sixth court.
_Maitreya._ [_Enters and looks about._] Well! Here in the sixth
court they are working in gold and jewels. The arches set with
sapphires look as if they were the home of the rainbow. The jewelers
are testing the lapis lazuli, the pearls, the corals, the topazes,
the sapphires, the cat's-eyes, the rubies, the emeralds, and all the
other kinds of gems. Rubies are being set in gold. Golden ornaments
are being fashioned. Pearls are being strung on a red cord.
Pieces of lapis lazuli are being cleverly polished. Shells are being
pierced. Corals are being ground. Wet bundles of saffron are being
dried. Musk is being moistened. Sandalwood is being ground
to make sandal-water. Perfumes are being compounded. Betel-leaves
and camphor are being given to courtezans and their lovers.
Coquettish glances are being exchanged. Laughter is going on.
Wine is being drunk incessantly with sounds of glee. Here are
men-servants, here are maid-servants, and here are men who forget
child and wife and money. When the courtezans, who have
drunk the wine from the liquor-jars, give them the mitten, they--drink.
Show me the way, madam.
P. 121.5]
_Maid._ Come, sir, and enter the seventh court.
_Maitreya._ [_Enters and looks about._] Well! Here in the seventh
court the mated doves are sitting comfortably in their snug dovecotes,
billing and cooing and nothing else, and perfectly happy.
And there is a parrot in a cage, chanting like a Brahman with a
bellyful of curdled milk and rice. And here, again, is a talking
thrush, chattering like a housemaid who spreads herself because
somebody noticed her. A cuckoo, her throat still happy from tasting
all sorts of fruit-syrups, is cooing like a procuress. Rows of
cages are hanging from pegs. Quails are being egged on to fight.
Partridges are being made to talk. Caged pigeons are being provoked.
A tame peacock that looks as if he was adorned with all
sorts of gems is dancing happily about, and as he flaps his wings,
he seems to be fanning the roof which is distressed by the rays
of the sun. [_He looks in another direction._] Here are pairs of flamingos
like moonbeams rolled into a ball, that wander about after
pretty girls, as if they wanted to learn how to walk gracefully.
And here, again, are tame cranes, walking around like ancient
eunuchs. Well, well! This courtezan keeps a regular menagerie of
birds. Really, the courtezan's house seems to me like Indra's heaven.
Show me the way, madam.
_Maid._ Come, sir, and enter the eighth court.
_Maitreya._ [_Enters and looks about._] Madam, who is this in the
silk cloak, adorned with such astonishingly tautologous ornaments,
who wanders about, stumbling and stretching his limbs?
_Maid._ Sir, this is my mistress' brother.
_Maitreya._ What sort of ascetic exercises does a man have to perform,
in order to be born as Vasantasena's brother? But no,
He may be shiny, may be greasy,
And perfumed may he be.
And yet I warn you to go easy;
He's a graveyard champak-tree. 29
[_He looks in another direction._] But madam, who is that in the
expansive garment, sitting on the throne? She has shoes on her
greasy feet.
[72.9. S.
_Maid._ Sir, that is my mistress' mother.
_Maitreya._ Lord! What an extensive belly the dirty old witch has
got! I suppose they couldn't put that superb portal on the house
till after they had brought the idol in?
_Maid._ Rascal! You must not make fun of our mother so. She is
pining away under a quartan ague.
_Maitreya._ [_Bursts out laughing._] O thou blessèd quartan ague!
Look thou upon a Brahman, even upon me, with this thy favor!
_Maid._ Rascal! May death strike you.
_Maitreya._ [_Bursts out laughing._] Why, wench, a pot-belly like
that is better dead.
Drinking brandy, rum, and wine,
Mother fell extremely ill.
If mother now should peak and pine,
A jackal-pack would have its fill. 30
Well, I have seen Vasantasena's palace with its many incidents
and its eight courts, and really, it seems as if I had seen the triple
heaven in a nut-shell. I haven't the eloquence to praise it. Is this
the house of a courtezan, or a piece of Kubera's[57] palace? Where's
your mistress?
_Maid._ She is here in the orchard. Enter, sir.
_Maitreya._ [_Enters and looks about._] Well! What a beautiful orchard!
There are any number of trees planted here, and they are
covered with the most wonderful flowers. Silken swings are hung
under the thick-set trees, just big enough for a girl to sit in. The
golden jasmine, the shephalika, the white jasmine, the jessamine,
the navamallika, the amaranth, the spring creeper, and all the other
flowers have fallen of themselves, and really, it makes Indra's heaven
look dingy. [_He looks in another direction._] And the pond here
looks like the morning twilight, for the lilies and red lotuses are
as splendid as the rising sun. And again:
The ashoka-tree, whose twigs so merry
And crimson flowers have just appeared,
Seems like a battling mercenary,
With clotting crimson gore besmeared. 31
Good! Now where's your mistress?
P. 126.7]
_Maid._ If you would stop star-gazing, sir, you would see her.
_Maitreya._ [_Perceives Vasantasena and approaches._] Heaven bless
you!
_Vasantasena._ [_Speaking in Sanskrit._[58]] Ah, Maitreya! [_Rising._] You
are very welcome. Here is a seat. Pray be seated.
_Maitreya._ When you are seated, madam. [_They both seat themselves._]
_Vasantasena._ Is the merchant's son well?
_Maitreya._ Well, madam.
_Vasantasena._ Tell me, good Maitreya,
Do friends, like birds, yet seek a shelter free
Beneath the modest boughs of this fair tree,
Whose leaves are virtues, confidence its root,
Its blossoms honor, good its precious fruit? 32
_Maitreya._ [_Aside._] A good description by a naughty woman.
[_Aloud._] They do, indeed.
_Vasantasena._ Tell me, what is the purpose of your coming?
_Maitreya._ Listen, madam. The excellent Charudatta folds his
hands[59] and requests--
_Vasantasena._ [_Folding her hands._] And commands--
_Maitreya._ He says he imagined that that golden casket was his
own and gambled it away. And nobody knows where the gambling-master
has gone, for he is employed in the king's business.
[74.9. S.
_Maid._ Mistress, I congratulate you. The gentleman has turned
gambler.
_Vasantasena._ [_Aside._] It was stolen by a thief, and he is so proud
that he says he gambled it away. I love him for that.
_Maitreya._ He requests that you will therefore be good enough to
accept in its place this necklace of pearls.
_Vasantasena._ [_Aside._] Shall I show him the jewels? [_Reflecting._]
No, not yet.
_Maitreya._ Why don't you take this necklace?
_Vasantasena._ [_Laughs and looks at her friend._] Why should I not
take the necklace, Maitreya? [_She takes it and lays it away. Aside._]
How is it possible that drops of honey fall from the mango-tree,
even after its blossoms are gone? [_Aloud._] Sir, pray tell the worthy
gambler Charudatta in my name that I shall pay him a visit this
evening.
_Maitreya._ [_Aside._] What else does she expect to get out of a visit
to our house? [_Aloud._] Madam, I will tell him--[_Aside_ to have
nothing more to do with this courtezan. [_Exit._
_Vasantasena._ Take these jewels, girl. Let us go and bring cheer
to Charudatta.
_Maid._ But mistress, see! An untimely storm is gathering.
_Vasant._
The clouds may come, the rain may fall forever,
The night may blacken in the sky above;
For this I care not, nor I will not waver;
My heart is journeying to him I love. 33
Take the necklace, girl, and come quickly. [_Exeunt omnes._
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 50: A name of Kama, the god of love.]
[Footnote 51: Used as a refrigerant.]
[Footnote 52: That is to say. You are now a legal wife, while I am still
a courtesan.]
[Footnote 53: "Rams in India are commonly trained to fight." WILSON.]
[Footnote 54: Virtuous souls after death may become stars; but when
their stellar happiness equals the sum of their acquired merit, they
fall to earth again.]
[Footnote 55: The choristers of heaven.]
[Footnote 56: The nymphs of heaven.]
[Footnote 57: The god of wealth.]
[Footnote 58: This shows the excellence of Vasantasena's education.
Women, as an almost invariable rule, speak Prakrit.]
[Footnote 59: A gesture of respectful entreaty.]
ACT THE FIFTH
THE STORM
[_The love-lorn Charudatta appears, seated._]
_Charudatta._ [_Looks up._]
An untimely storm[60] is gathering. For see!
The peacocks gaze and lift their fans on high;
The swans forget their purpose to depart;
The untimely storm afflicts the blackened sky,
And the wistful lover's heart. 1
And again:
The wet bull's belly wears no deeper dye;
In flashing lightning's golden mantle clad,
While cranes, his buglers, make the heaven glad,
The cloud, a second Vishnu,[61] mounts the sky. 2
And yet again:
As dark as Vishnu's form, with circling cranes
To trumpet him, instead of bugle strains,
And garmented in lightning's silken robe.
Approaches now the harbinger of rains. 3
When lightning's lamp is lit, the silver river
Impetuous falls from out the cloudy womb;
Like severed lace from heaven-cloaking gloom,
It gleams an instant, then is gone forever. 4
Like shoaling fishes, or like dolphins shy,
Or like to swans, toward heaven's vault that fly,
Like paired flamingos, male and mate together,
Like mighty pinnacles that tower on high.
In thousand forms the tumbling clouds embrace,
Though torn by winds, they gather, interlace,
And paint the ample canvas of the sky. 5
The sky is black as Dhritarashtra's face;
Proud as the champion of Kuru's race.
The haughty peacock shrills his joy abroad;
The cuckoo, in Yudhishthira's sad case,
Is forced to wander if he would not die;
The swans must leave their forest-homes and fly,
Like Pandu's sons, to seek an unknown place. 6
[_Reflecting._] It is long since Maitreya went to visit Vasantasena.
And even yet he does not come. [_Enter Maitreya._]
[76.20. S.
_Maitreya._ Confound the courtezan's avarice and her incivility! To
think of her making so short a story of it! Over and over she
repeats something about the affection she feels, and then without
more ado she pockets the necklace. She is rich enough so that
she might at least have said: "Good Maitreya, rest a little. You
must not go until you have had a cup to drink." Confound the
courtezan! I hope I 'll never set eyes on her again. [_Wearily._]
The proverb is right. "It is hard to find a lotus-plant without a
root, a merchant who never cheats, a goldsmith who never steals,
a village-gathering without a fight, and a courtezan without avarice."
Well, I 'll find my friend and persuade him to have nothing
more to do with this courtezan. [_He walks about until he discovers
Charudatta._] Ah, my good friend is sitting in the orchard. I 'll
go to him. [_Approaching._] Heaven bless you! May happiness be
yours.
_Charudatta._ [_Looking up._] Ah, my friend Maitreya has returned.
You are very welcome, my friend. Pray be seated.
_Maitreya._ Thank you.
_Charudatta._ Tell me of your errand, my friend.
_Maitreya._ My errand went all wrong.
P. 132.8]
_Charudatta._ What! did she not accept the necklace?
_Maitreya._ How could we expect such a piece of luck? She put
her lotus-tender hands to her brow,[62] and took it.
_Charudatta._ Then why do you say "went wrong"?
_Maitreya._ Why not, when we lost a necklace that was the pride
of the four seas for a cheap golden casket, that was stolen before
we had a bite or a drink out of it?
_Charudatta._ Not so, my friend.
She showed her trust in leaving us her treasure;
The price of confidence has no less measure. 7
_Maitreya._ Now look here! I have a second grievance. She tipped
her friend the wink, covered her face with the hem of her dress,
and laughed at me. And so, Brahman though I am, I hereby fall
on my face before you and beg you not to have anything more
to do with this courtezan. That sort of society does any amount
of damage. A courtezan is like a pebble in your shoe. It hurts
before you get rid of it. And one thing more, my friend. A courtezan,
an elephant, a scribe, a mendicant friar, a swindler, and an
ass--where these dwell, not even rogues are born.
_Charudatta._ Oh, my friend, a truce to all your detraction! My
poverty of itself prevents me. For consider:
The horse would gladly hasten here and there,
But his legs fail him, for his breath departs.
So men's vain wishes wander everywhere,
Then, weary grown, return into their hearts. 8
Then too, my friend:
If wealth is thine, the maid is thine,
For maids are won by gold;
[_Aside._ And not by virtue cold. _Aloud._]
But wealth is now no longer mine,
And her I may not hold. 9
[78.23. S.
_Maitreya._ [_Looks down. Aside._] From the way he looks up and
sighs, I conclude that my effort to distract him has simply increased
his longing. The proverb is right. "You can't reason with
a lover." [_Aloud._] Well, she told me to tell you that she would
have to come here this evening. I suppose she isn't satisfied with
the necklace and is coming to look for something else.
_Charudatta._ Let her come, my friend. She shall not depart unsatisfied.
[_Enter Kumbhilaka._]
_Kumbhilaka._ Listen, good people.
The more it rains in sheets,
The more my skin gets wet;
The more the cold wind beats,
The more I shake and fret. 10
[_He bursts out laughing._]
I make the sweet flute speak from seven holes,
I make the loud lute speak on seven strings;
In singing, I essay the donkey's rôles:
No god can match my music when he sings. 11
My mistress Vasantasena said to me "Kumbhilaka, go and tell Charudatta
that I am coming." So here I am, on my way to Charudatta's house. [_He
walks about, and, as he enters, discovers Charudatta._] Here is
Charudatta in the orchard. And here is that wretched jackanapes, too.
Well, I'll go up to them. What! the orchard-gate is shut? Good! I'll
give this jackanapes a hint. [_He throws lumps of mud._]
_Maitreya._ Well! Who is this pelting me with mud, as if I were
an apple-tree inside of a fence?
_Charudatta._ Doubtless the pigeons that play on the roof of the
garden-house.
_Maitreya._ Wait a minute, you confounded pigeon! With this
stick I'll bring you down from the roof to the ground, like an
over-ripe mango. [_He raises his stick and starts to run._]
P. 136.8]
_Charudatta._ [_Holding him back by the sacred cord._] Sit down, my
friend. What do you mean? Leave the poor pigeon alone with his
mate.
_Kumbhilaka._ What! he sees the pigeon and doesn't see me? Good!
I'll hit him again with another lump of mud. [_He does so._]
_Maitreya._ [_Looks about him._] What! Kumbhilaka? I'll be with you
in a minute. [_He approaches and opens the gate._] Well, Kumbhilaka,
come in. I'm glad to see you.
_Kumbhilaka._ [_Enters._] I salute you, sir.
_Maitreya._ Where do you come from, man, in this rain and darkness?
_Kumbhilaka._ You see, she's here.
_Maitreya._ Who's she? Who's here?
_Kumbhilaka._ She. See? She.
_Maitreya._ Look here, you son of a slave! What makes you sigh
like a half-starved old beggar in a famine, with your "shesheshe"?
_Kumbhilaka._ And what makes you hoot like an owl with your
"whowhowho"?
_Maitreya._ All right. Tell me.
_Kumbhilaka._ [_Aside._] Suppose I say it this way. [_Aloud._] I'll give
you a riddle, man.
_Maitreya._ And I'll give you the answer with my foot on your
bald spot.
_Kumbhilaka._ Not till you've guessed it. In what season do the
mango-trees blossom?
_Maitreya._ In summer, you jackass.
_Kumbhilaka._ [_Laughing._] Wrong!
_Maitreya._ [_Aside._] What shall I say now? [_Reflecting._] Good! I'll
go and ask Charudatta. [_Aloud._] Just wait a moment. [_Approaching
Charudatta._] My friend, I just wanted to ask you in what
season the mango-trees blossom.
[81.3. S.
_Charudatta._ You fool, in spring, in _vasanta._
_Maitreya._ [_Returns to Kumbhilaka._] You fool, in spring, in _vasanta_.
_Kumbhilaka._ Now I 'll give you another. Who guards thriving
villages?
_Maitreya._ Why, the guard.
_Kumbhilaka._ [_Laughing._] Wrong!
_Maitreya._ Well, I'm stuck. [_Reflecting._] Good! I'll ask Charudatta
again. [_He returns and puts the question to Charudatta._]
_Charudatta._ The army, my friend, the _sena_.
_Maitreya._ [_Comes back to Kumbhilaka._] The army, you jackass, the
_sena_.
_Kumbhilaka._ Now put the two together and say 'em fast.
_Maitreya._ Sena-vasanta.
_Kumbhilaka._ Say it turned around.
_Maitreya._ [_Turns around._] Sena-vasanta.
_Kumbhilaka._ You fool! you jackanapes! Turn the parts of the thing
around!
_Maitreya._ [_Turns his feet around._] Sena-vasanta.
_Kumbhilaka._ You fool! Turn the parts of the word around!
_Maitreya._ [_After reflection._] Vasanta-sena.
_Kumbhilaka._ She's here.
_Maitreya._ Then I must tell Charudatta. [_Approaching._] Well,
Charudatta, your creditor is here.
_Charudatta._ How should a creditor come into my family?
_Maitreya._ Not in the family perhaps, but at the door. Vasantasena
is here.
_Charudatta._ Why do you deceive me, my friend?
_Maitreya._ If you can't trust me, then ask Kumbhilaka here.
Kumbhilaka, you jackass, come here.
P. 140.4]
_Kumbhilaka._ [_Approaching._] I salute you, sir.
_Charudatta._ You are welcome, my good fellow. Tell me, is Vasantasena
really here?
_Kumbhilaka._ Yes, she's here. Vasantasena is here.
_Charudatta._ [_Joyfully._] My good fellow, I have never let the
bearer of welcome news go unrewarded. Take this as your recompense.
[_He gives him his mantle._]
_Kumbhilaka._ [_Takes it and bows. Gleefully._] I'll tell my mistress.
[_Exit._
_Maitreya._ Do you see why she comes in a storm like this?
_Charudatta._ I do not quite understand, my friend.
_Maitreya._ I know. She has an idea that the pearl necklace is
cheap, and the golden casket expensive. She isn't satisfied, and
she has come to look for something more.
_Charudatta._ [_Aside._] She shall not depart unsatisfied.
* * * * *
[_Then enter the love-lorn Vasantasena, in a splendid garment, fit
for a woman who goes to meet her lover, a maid with an umbrella,
and the courtier._]
_Courtier._ [_Referring to Vasantasena._]
Lakshmi[63] without the lotus-flower is she,
Loveliest arrow of god Kama's bow,[64]
The sweetest blossom on love's magic tree.
See how she moves, so gracefully and slow!
In passion's hour she still loves modesty;
In her, good wives their dearest sorrow know.
When passion's drama shall enacted be.
When on love's stage appears the passing show,
A host of wanderers shall bend them low.
Glad to be slaves in such captivity. 12
[82.94. S.
See, Vasantasena, see!
The clouds hang drooping to the mountain peaks,
Like a maiden's heart, that distant lover seeks:
The peacocks startle, when the thunder booms,
And fan the heaven with all their jeweled plumes. 13
And again:
Mud-stained, and pelted by the streaming rain,
To drink the falling drops the frogs are fain;
Full-throated peacocks love's shrill passion show,
And nipa flowers like brilliant candles glow;
Unfaithful clouds obscure the hostage moon,
Like knaves, unworthy of so dear a boon;
Like some poor maid of better breeding bare,
The impatient lightning rests not anywhere. 14
_Vasantasena._[65] Sir, what you say is most true. For
The night, an angry rival, bars my way;
Her thunders fain would check and hinder me:
"Fond fool! with him I love thou shalt not stay,
'T is I, 't is I, he loves," she seems to say,
"Nor from my swelling bosom shall he flee." 15
_Courtier._ Yes, yes. That is right. Scold the night.
_Vasantasena._ And yet, sir, why scold one who is so ignorant of
woman's nature! For you must remember:
The clouds may rain, may thunder ne'er so bold,
May flash the lightning from the sky above;
That woman little recks of heat or cold,
Who journeys to her love. 16
_Courtier._ But see, Vasantasena! Another cloud,
Sped by the fickle fury of the air--
A flood of arrows in his rushing streams,
His drum, the roaring thunder's mighty blare,
His banner, living lightning's awful gleams--
Rages within the sky, and shows him bold
'Mid beams that to the moon allegiance owe,
Like a hero-king within the hostile hold
Of his unwarlike foe. 17
P. 142.9]
_Vasantasena._ True, true. And more than this:
As dark as elephants, these clouds alone
Fall like a cruel dart--
With streaks of lightning and with white birds strewn--
To wound my wretched heart.
But, oh, why should the heron, bird of doom,
With that perfidious sound[66]
Of "Rain! Rain! Rain!"--grim summons to the tomb
For her who spends her lonely hours in gloom--
Strew salt upon the wound? 18
_Courtier._ Very true, Vasantasena. And yet again:
It seems as if the sky would take the guise
Of some fierce elephant to service bred;
The lightning like a waving streamer flies,
And white cranes serve to deck his mighty head. 19
_Vasantasena._ But look, sir, look!
Clouds, black as wet tamala-leaves, the ball
Of heaven hide from our sight;
Rain-smitten homes of ants decay and fall
Like beasts that arrows smite;
Like golden lamps within a lordly hall
Wander the lightnings bright;
As when men steal the wife of some base thrall,
Clouds rob the moon of light. 20
_Courtier._ See, Vasantasena, see!
Clouds, harnessed in the lightning's gleams,
Like charging elephants dash by;
At Indra's bidding, pour their streams,
Until with silver cords it seems
That earth is linked with sky. 21
[84.14. S.
And look yonder!
As herds of buffaloes the clouds are black;
The winds deny them ease;
They fly on lightning wings and little lack
Of seeming troubled seas.
Smitten with falling drops, the fragrant sod,
Upon whose bosom greenest grasses nod,
Seems pierced with pearls, each pearl an arrowy rod. 22
_Vasantasena._ And here is yet another cloud.
The peacock's shrill-voiced cry
Implores it to draw nigh;
And ardent cranes on high
Embrace it lovingly.
The wistful swans espy
The lotus-sweeter sky;
The darkest colors lie
On heaven clingingly. 23
_Courtier._ True. For see!
A thousand lotuses that bloom by night,
A thousand blooming when the day is bright,
Nor close nor ope their eyes to heaven's sight;
There is no night nor day.
The face of heaven, thus shrouded in the night,
Is only for a single instant bright,
When momentary lightning gives us sight;
Else is it dark alway.
Now sleeps the world as still as in the night
Within the house of rain where naught is bright,
Where hosts of swollen clouds seem to our sight
One covering veil of gray. 24
P. 143.20]
_Vasantasena._ True. And see!
The stars are lost like mercies given
To men of evil heart;
Like lonely-parted wives, the heaven
Sees all her charms depart.
And, molten in the cruel heat
Of Indra's bolt, it seems
As if the sky fell at our feet
In liquid, flowing streams. 25
And yet again:
The clouds first darkly rise, then darkly fall,
Send forth their floods of rain, and thunder all;
Assuming postures strange and manifold,
Like men but newly blest with wealth untold. 26
_Courtier._ True.
The heaven is radiant with the lightning's glare;
Its laughter is the cry of myriad cranes;
Its voice, the bolts that whistle through the air;
Its dance, that bow whose arrows are the rains.
It staggers at the winds, and seems to smoke
With clouds, which form its black and snaky cloak. 27
_Vasantasena._ O shameless, shameless sky!
To thunder thus, while I
To him I love draw nigh.
Why do thy thunders frighten me and pain?
Why am I seized upon by hands of rain? 28
O Indra, mighty Indra!
Did I then give thee of my love before,
That now thy clouds like mighty lions roar?
Ah no! Thou shouldst not send thy streaming rain,
To fill my journey to my love with pain. 29
[83.23. S.
Remember:
For Ahalya's sweet sake thou once didst lie;
Thou knowest lover's pain.
As thou didst suffer then, now suffer I;
O cruel, cease thy rain. 30
And yet:
Thunder and rain and lighten hundredfold
Forth from thy sky above;
The woman canst thou not delay nor hold
Who journeys to her love. 31
Let thunders roar, for men were cruel ever;
But oh, thou maiden lightning! didst thou never
Know pains that maidens know? 32
_Courtier._ But mistress, do not scold the lightning. She is your
friend,
This golden cord that trembles on the breast
Of great Airavata;[67] upon the crest
Of rocky hills this banner all ablaze;
This lamp in Indra's palace; but most blest
As telling where your most beloved stays. 33
_Vasantasena._ And here, sir, is his house.
_Courtier._ You know all the arts, and need no instruction now.
Yet love bids me prattle. When you enter here, you must not
show yourself too angry.
Where anger is, there love is not;
Or no! except for anger hot,
There is no love.
Be angry! make him angry then!
Be kind! and make him kind again--
The man you love. 34
So much for that. Who is there? Let Charudatta know, that
P. 145.17]
While clouds look beautiful, and in the hour
Fragrant with nipa and kadamba flower,
She comes to see her lover, very wet.
With dripping locks, but pleased and loving yet.
Though lightning and though thunder terrifies,
She comes to see you; 't is for you she sighs.
The mud still soils the anklets on her feet,
But in a moment she will have them sweet. 35
_Charudatta._ [_Listening._] My friend, pray discover what this means.
_Maitreya._ Yes, sir. [_He approaches Vasantasena. Respectfully._]
Heaven bless you!
_Vasantasena._ I salute you, sir. I am very glad to see you. [_To the
courtier._] Sir, the maid with the umbrella is at your service.
_Courtier._ [_Aside._] A very clever way to get rid of me. [_Aloud._]
Thank you. And mistress Vasantasena,
Pride and tricks and lies and fraud
Are in your face;
False playground of the lustful god,
Such is your face;
The wench's stock in trade, in fine,
Epitome of joys divine,
I mean, your face--
For sale! the price is courtesy.
I trust you'll find a man to buy
Your face. [_Exit._] 36
_Vasantasena._ Good Maitreya, where is your gambler?
_Maitreya._ [_Aside._] "Gambler"? Ah, she's paying a compliment to
my friend. [_Aloud._] Madam, here he is in the dry orchard.
_Vasantasena._ But sir, what do you call a dry orchard?
_Maitreya._ Madam, it's a place where there's nothing to eat or
drink, [_Vasantasena smiles._] Pray enter, madam.
_Vasantasena._ [_Aside to her maid._] What shall I say when I enter?
[87.17. S.
_Maid._ "Gambler, what luck this evening?"
_Vasantasena._ Shall I dare to say it?
_Maid._ When the time comes, it will say itself.
_Maitreya._ Enter, madam.
_Vasantasena._ [_Enters, approaches Charudatta, and strikes him with
the flowers which she holds._] Well, gambler, what luck this evening?
_Charudatta._ [_Discovers her._] Ah, Vasantasena is here. [_He rises
joyfully._] Oh, my belovèd,
My evenings pass in watching ever,
My nights from sighs are never free;
This evening cannot else than sever--
In bringing you--my grief and me. 37
You are very, very welcome. Here is a seat. Pray be seated.
_Maitreya._ Here is a seat. Be seated, madam. [_Vasantasena sits, then
the others._]
_Charudatta._ But see, my friend,
The dripping flower that decks her ear, droops down,
And one sweet breast
Anointed is, like a prince who wears the crown,
With ointment blest. 38
My friend, Vasantasena's garments are wet. Let other, and most
beautiful, garments be brought.
_Maitreya._ Yes, sir.
_Maid._ Good Maitreya, do you stay here. I will wait upon my mistress.
[_She does so._]
_Maitreya._ [_Aside to Charudatta._] My friend, I'd just like to ask
the lady a question.
_Charudatta._ Then do so.
_Maitreya._ [_Aloud._] Madam, what made you come here, when it
is so stormy and dark that you can't see the moon?
_Maid._ Mistress, the Brahman is very plain-spoken.
P. 148.17]
_Vasantasena._ You might better call him clever.
_Maid._ My mistress came to ask how much that pearl necklace is
worth.
_Maitreya._ [_Aside to Charudatta._] There! I told you so. She thinks
the pearl necklace is cheap, and the golden casket is expensive.
She isn't satisfied. She has come to look for something more.
_Maid._ For my mistress imagined that it was her own, and gambled
it away. And nobody knows where the gambling-master has gone,
for he is employed in the king's business.
_Maitreya._ Madam, you are simply repeating what somebody said
before.
_Maid._ While we are looking for him, pray take this golden casket.
[_She displays the casket._ _Maitreya hesitates._] Sir, you examine
it very closely. Did you ever see it before?
_Maitreya._ No, madam, but the skilful workmanship captivates
the eye.
_Maid._ Your eyes deceive you, sir. This _is_ the golden casket.
_Maitreya._ [_Joyfully._] Well, my friend, here is the golden casket,
the very one that thieves stole from our house.
_Charudatta._ My friend,
The artifice we tried before,
Her stolen treasure to restore,
Is practised now on us. But no,
I cannot think 't is really so. 39
_Maitreya._ But it is so. I swear it on my Brahmanhood.
_Charudatta._ This is welcome news.
_Maitreya._ [_Aside to Charudatta._] I'm going to ask where they
found it.
_Charudatta._ I see no harm in that.
_Maitreya._ [_Whispers in the maid's ear._] There!
_Maid._ [_Whispers in Maitreya's ear._] So there!
[89.19. S.
_Charudatta._ What is it? and why are we left out?
_Maitreya._ [_Whispers in Charudatta's ear._] So there!
_Charudatta._ My good girl, is this really the same golden casket?
_Maid._ Yes, sir, the very same.
_Charudatta._ My good girl, I have never let the bearer of welcome
news go unrewarded. Take this ring as your recompense. [_He
looks at his finger, notices that the ring is gone, and betrays his
embarrassment._]
_Vasantasena._ [_To herself._] I love you for that.
_Charudatta._ [_Aside to Maitreya._] Alas,
When in this world a man has lost his all,
Why should he set his heart on longer life?
His angers and his favors fruitless fall,
His purposes and powers are all at strife. 40
Like wingless birds, dry pools, or withered trees,
Like fangless snakes--the poor are like to these. 41
Like man-deserted houses, blasted trees,
Like empty wells--the poor are like to these.
For them no pleasant hours serve happy ends;
They are forgotten of their sometime friends. 42
_Maitreya._ But you must not grieve thus beyond reason. [_He
bursts out laughing. Aloud._] Madam, please give me back my
bath-clout.
_Vasantasena._ Charudatta, it was not right that you should show
your distrust of me by sending me this pearl necklace.
_Charudatta._ [_With an embarrassed smile._] But remember, Vasantasena,
Who will believe the truth?
Suspicion now is sure.
This world will show no ruth
To the inglorious poor. 43
P. 152.4]
_Maitreya._ Tell me, girl, are you going to sleep here to-night?
_Maid._ [_Laughing._] But good Maitreya, you show yourself most
remarkably plain-spoken now.
_Maitreya._ See, my friend, the rain enters again in great streams,
as if it wanted to drive people away when they are sitting comfortably
together.
_Charudatta._ You are quite right.
The falling waters pierce the cloud,
As lotus-shoots the soil;
And tears the face of heaven shroud,
Who weeps the moon's vain toil. 44
And again:
In streams as pure as thoughts to good men given,
But merciless as darts that Arjun hurls,
And black as Baladeva's cloak, the heaven
Seems to pour out all Indra's hoarded pearls. 45
See, my belovèd, see!
The heaven is painted with the blackest dye,
And fanned by cool and fragrant evening airs;
Red lightning, glad in union, clasps the sky
With voluntary arms, and shows on high
The love that maiden heart to lover bears. 46
[_Vasantasena betrays her passion, and throws her arms about Charudatta.
Charudatta feels her touch, and embraces her._]
_Charudatta._
More grimly yet, O thunder, boom;
For by thy grace and power
My love-distracted limbs now bloom
Like the kadamba flower.
Her dear touch all my being thrills,
And love my inmost spirit fills. 47
_Maitreya._ Confound you, storm! You are no gentleman, to
frighten the lady with the lightning.
[91.20. S.
_Charudatta._
Do not rebuke the storm, my friend.
Let ceaseless rain a hundred years endure,
The lightning quiver, and the thunder peal;
For what I deemed impossible is sure:
Her dear-loved arms about my neck I feel. 48
And oh, my friend,
He only knows what riches are,
Whose love comes to him from afar,
Whose arms that dearest form enfold,
While yet with rain 't is wet and cold. 49
Vasantasena, my belovèd,
The masonry is shaken; and so old
The awning, that 't will not much longer hold.
Heavy with water is the painted wall,
From which dissolving bits of mortar fall. 50
[_He looks up._] The rainbow! See, my belovèd, see!
See how they yawn, the cloudy jaws of heaven,
As by a tongue, by forkèd lightning riven;
And to the sky great Indra's fiery bow
In lieu of high-uplifted arms is given. 51
Come, let us seek a shelter. [_He rises and walks about._]
On palm-trees shrill,
On thickets still,
On boulders dashing,
On waters splashing,
Like a lute that, smitten, sings,
The rainy music rings. 52
[_Exeunt omnes._
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 60: In Indian love poetry, the rainy season is the time when
lovers most ardently long to be united.]
[Footnote 61: In allusion to Vishnu's name, Krishna, "black."]
[Footnote 62: A gesture of respect.]
[Footnote 63: The goddess of wealth and beauty, usually represented with
a lotus.]
[Footnote 64: Kama's (Cupid's) arrows are flowers.]
[Footnote 65: Throughout this scene, Vasantasena's verses are in
Sanskrit. Compare note 1 on page 73.]
[Footnote 66: The cry of the heron resembles the Sanskrit word for
"rain." Indian love-poetry often paints the sorrow, even unto death, of
her whose beloved does not return before the rainy season.]
[Footnote 67: The elephant of Indra. Indra is the god of the
thunderstorm.]
ACT THE SIXTH
THE SWAPPING OF THE BULLOCK-CARTS
[_Enter a maid._]
_Maid._
Isn't my mistress awake yet? Well, I must go in and wake
her. [_She walks about. Vasantasena appears, dressed, but still
asleep. The maid discovers her._] It is time to get up, mistress. The
morning is here.
_Vasantasena._ [_Awakening._] What! is the night over? is it morning?
_Maid._ For us it is morning. But for my mistress it appears to be
night still.
_Vasantasena._ But girl, where is your gambler?
_Maid._ Mistress, after giving Vardhamanaka his orders, Charudatta
went to the old garden Pushpakaranda.
_Vasantasena._ What orders?
_Maid._ To have the bullock-cart ready before daylight; for, he
said, Vasantasena was to come--
_Vasantasena._ Where, girl?
_Maid._ Where Charudatta is.
_Vasantasena._ [_Embraces the maid._] I did not have a good look at
him in the evening. But to-day I shall see him face to face. Tell
me, girl. Have I found my way into the inner court?
_Maid._ You have found your way not only into the inner court,
but into the heart of every one who lives here.
_Vasantasena._ Tell me, are Charudatta's servants vexed?
_Maid._ They will be.
_Vasantasena._ When?
_Maid._ When my mistress goes away.
_Vasantasena._ But not so much as I shall be. [_Persuasively._] Here,
girl, take this pearl necklace. You must go and give it to my lady
sister, his good wife. And give her this message: "Worthy Charudatta's
virtues have won me, made me his slave, and therefore your
slave also. And so I hope that these pearls may adorn your neck."
[94.3. S.
_Maid._ But mistress, Charudatta will be angry with you.
_Vasantasena._ Go. He will not be angry.
_Maid._ [_Takes the necklace._] Yes, mistress. [_She goes out, then
returns._] Mistress, his lady wife says that her lord made you a present
of it, and it would not be right for her to accept it. And further, that
you are to know that her lord and husband is her most excellent
adornment.
[_Enter Radanika, with Charudatta's little son._]
_Radanika._ Come, dear, let's play with your little cart.
_Rohasena._ [_Peevishly._] I don't like this little clay cart, Radanika.
Give me my gold cart.
_Radanika._ [_Sighing wearily._] How should we have anything to do
with gold now, my child? When your papa is rich again, then you
shall have a gold cart to play with. But I'll amuse him by taking
him to see Vasantasena. [_She approaches Vasantasena._] Mistress,
my service to you.
_Vasantasena._ I am glad to see you, Radanika. But whose little
boy is this? He wears no ornaments, yet his dear little face makes
my heart happy.
_Radanika._ This is Charudatta's son, Rohasena.
_Vasantasena._ [_Stretches out her arms._] Come, my boy, and put
your little arms around me. [_She takes him on her lap._] He looks
just like his father.
_Radanika._ More than looks like him, he _is_ like him. At least I
think so. His father is perfectly devoted to him.
_Vasantasena._ But what is he crying about?
_Radanika._ He used to play with a gold cart that belongs to the
son of a neighbor. But that was taken away, and when he asked
for it, I made him this little clay cart. But when I gave it to him,
he said "I don't like this little clay cart, Radanika. Give me my
gold cart."
P. 158.10]
_Vasantasena._ Oh, dear! To think that this little fellow has to suffer
because others are wealthy. Ah, mighty Fate! the destinies of men,
uncertain as the water-drops which fall upon a lotus-leaf, seem to
thee but playthings! [_Tearfully._] Don't cry, my child. You shall
have a gold cart to play with.
_Rohasena._ Who is she, Radanika?
_Vasantasena._ A slave of your father's, won by his virtues.
_Radanika._ My child, the lady is your mother.
_Rohasena._ That's a lie, Radanika. If the lady is my mother, why
does she wear those pretty ornaments?
_Vasantasena._ My child, your innocent lips can say terrible things.
[_She removes her ornaments. Weeping._] Now I am your mother.
You shall take these ornaments and have a gold cart made for you.
_Rohasena._ Go away! I won't take them. You're crying.
_Vasantasena._ [_Wiping away her tears._] I'll not cry, dear. There!
go and play. [_She fills the clay cart with her jewels._] There, dear,
you must have a little gold cart made for you.
[_Exit Radanika, with Rohasena._
[_Enter Vardhamanaka, driving a bullock-cart._]
_Vardhamanaka._ Radanika, Radanika! Tell mistress Vasantasena
that the covered cart is standing ready at the side-door.
_Radanika._ [_Entering._] Mistress, Vardhamanaka is here, and he
says that the cart is waiting at the side-door.
_Vasantasena._ He must wait a minute, girl, while I get ready.
_Rad._ Wait a minute, Vardhamanaka, while she gets ready. [_Exit._
_Vardhamanaka._ Hello, I've forgotten the cushion. I must go and
get it. But the nose-rope makes the bullocks skittish. I suppose I
had better take the cart along with me. [_Exit._
[96.14. S.
_Vasantasena._ Bring me my things, girl. I must make myself ready.
[_She does so._]
* * * * *
[_Enter, driving a bullock-cart, Sthavaraka, servant to Sansthanaka._]
_Sthavaraka._ Sansthanaka, the king's brother-in-law, said to me "Take a
bullock-cart, Sthavaraka, and come as quick as you can to the old garden
Pushpakaranda." Well, I'm on my way there. Get up, bullocks, get up!
[_He drives about and looks around._] Why, the road is blocked with
villagers' carts. What am I to do now? [_Haughtily._] Get out of my way,
you! Get out of my way! [_He listens._] What's that? you want to know
whose cart this is? This cart belongs to Sansthanaka, the king's
brother-in-law. So get out of my way--and this minute, too! [_He looks
about._] Why, here's a man going in the other direction as fast as he
can. He is trying to hide like a runaway gambler, and he looks at me as
if I were the gambling-master. I wonder who he is. But then, what
business is it of mine? I must get there as soon as I can. Get out of my
way, you villagers, get out of my way! What's that? you want me to wait
a minute and put a shoulder to your wheel? Confound you! A brave man
like me, that serves Sansthanaka, the king's brother-in-law, put a
shoulder to your wheel? After all, the poor fellow is quite alone. I'll
do it. I'll stop my cart at the side-door to Charudatta's orchard. [_He
does so._] I'm coming! [_Exit._
_Maid._ Mistress, I think I hear the sound of wheels. The cart
must be here.
_Vasantasena._ Come, girl. My heart grows impatient. Go with me
to the side-door.
_Maid._ Follow me, mistress.
_Vasantasena._ [_Walks about._] You have earned a rest, girl.
_Maid._ Thank you, mistress. [_Exit._
_Vasantasena._ [_Feels her right eye twitch_[68] _as she enters the
cart._] Why should my right eye twitch now? But the sight of Charudatta
will smooth away the bad omen. [_Enter Sthavaraka._]
P. 169.8]
_Sthavaraka._ I've cleared the carts out of the way, and now I'll
go ahead. [_He mounts and drives away. To himself._] The cart has
grown heavy. But I suppose it only seems so, because I got tired
helping them with that wheel. Well, I'll go along. Get up, bullocks,
get up!
_A voice behind the scenes._ Police! Police! Every man at his post!
The young herdsman has just broken jail, killed the jailer, broken
his fetters, escaped, and run away. Catch him! Catch him!
[_Enter, in excited haste, Aryaka, an iron chain on one foot. Covering
his face, he walks about._]
_Sthavaraka._ [_To himself._] There is great excitement in the city. I
must get out of the way as fast as I possibly can. [_Exit._
_Aryaka._
I leave behind me that accursèd sea
Of human woe and human misery,
The prison of the king.
Like elephants that break their chains and flee,
I drag a fettered foot most painfully
In flight and wandering. 1
King Palaka was frightened by a prophecy, took me from the
hamlet where I lived, fettered me, and thrust me into a solitary
cell, there to await my death. But with the help of my good friend
Sharvilaka I escaped. [_He sheds tears._]
If such my fate, no sin is mine at least,
That he should cage me like a savage beast.
A man may fight with kings, though not with fate--
And yet, can helpless men contend with great? 2
Whither shall I go with my wretchedness? [_He looks about._] Here is the
house of some good man who hasn't locked the side-door.
The house is old, the door without a lock,
The hinges all awry.
Some man, no doubt, who feels misfortune's shock
As cruelly as I. 3
[96.18. S.
I will enter here and wait.
_A voice behind the scenes._ Get up, bullocks, get up!
_Aryaka._ [_Listening._] Ah, a bullock-cart is coming this way.
If this should prove to be a picnic rig,
Its occupants not peevishly inclined;
Some noble lady's waiting carriage trig;
Or rich man's coach, that leaves the town behind--
And if it empty be, fate proving kind,
'T would seem a godsend to my anxious mind. 4
[_Enter Vardhamanaka with the bullock-cart._]
_Vardhamanaka._ There, I've got the cushion. Radanika, tell mistress
Vasantasena that the cart is ready and waiting for her to get
in and drive to the old garden Pushpakaranda.
_Aryaka._ [_Listening._] This is a courtezan's cart, going out of the
city. Good, I'll climb in. [_He approaches cautiously._]
_Vardhamanaka._ [_Hears him coming._] Ah, the tinkling of ankle-rings!
The lady is here. Mistress, the nose-rope makes the bullocks
skittish. You had better climb in behind. [_Aryaka does so._]
The ankle-rings tinkle only when the feet are moving, and the
sound has ceased. Besides, the cart has grown heavy. I am sure the
lady must have climbed in by this time. I'll go ahead. Get up,
bullocks, get up! [_He drives about. Enter Viraka._]
_Viraka._ Come, come! Jaya, Jayamana, Chandanaka, Mangala,
Phullabhadra, and the rest of you!
So calm, when the herdsman, slipping his tether,
Breaks jail and the heart of the king together? 5
Here! You stand at the east gate of the main street, you at the
west, you at the south, you at the north. I'll climb up the broken
wall here with Chandanaka and take a look. Come on, Chandanaka,
come on! This way! [_Enter Chandanaka, in excitement._]
P. 166.5]
_Chandanaka._ Come, come! Viraka, Vishalya, Bhimangada, Dandakala,
Dandashura, and the rest of you!
Come quick, my reliables! Work! Now begin!
Lest the old king go out, and a new king come in. 6
Search gardens, and dives, and the town, and the street,
The market, the hamlet, wherever you meet 7
With what looks suspicious. Now, Viraka, say,
Who saved the young herdsman that just broke away? 8
Who was born when the sun in his eighth mansion stood,
Or the moon in her fourth, or when Jupiter could
Be seen in his sixth, or when Saturn was resting
In his ninth, in her sixth house when Venus was nesting,
Or Mars in his fifth?[69] Who will dare to be giving
The herdsman protection, while I am still living? 9, 10
_Viraka._ Chandanaka, you mercenary!
I swear on your heart, he's been long out of prison,
For the herdsman escaped ere the sun was half risen. 11
_Vardhamanaka._ Get up, bullocks, get up!
_Chandanaka._ [_Discovers him._] Look, man, look!
A covered cart is moving in the middle of the road;
Investigate it, whose it is, and where it takes its load! 12
_Viraka._ [_Discovers him._] Here, driver, stop your cart! Whose cart
is this? who is in it? where is it going?
_Vardhamanaka._ This is Charudatta's cart. Mistress Vasantasena
is in it. I am taking her to the old garden Pushpakaranda to meet
Charudatta.
_Viraka._ [_Approaches Chandanaka._] The driver says it is Charudatta's
cart; that Vasantasena is in it; that he is taking her to the
old garden Pushpakaranda.
_Chandanaka._ Then let it p
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