Chapter III: Part 3

In the midst of this reflection the Tiger came in with the line of attendants and observed that the Lion was thoughtful. On the ground of his tact and affection, he advanced near the throne of royalty, and was emboldened to ask the cause of that thoughtfulness, and having learned how the case stood, he took upon himself to accomplish the matter, and having been honoured with permission, he set off with a body of attendants, and, arriving at that place at noon, he betook himself to the accomplishment of that affair, and the instant that the business was settled to his satisfaction he changed his reins to return.

The officers who had been appointed to attend him unanimously represented as follows: "In such heat as this, all this distance has been traversed by the steps of completion, and now that the affair has been settled and the confidence placed in you by his majesty been demonstrated, it will certainly be advisable if you should repose a short time in the shade of a tree and allay the fiery tongue of thirst by drinking cool water."

The Tiger smiled and said: "My intimacy and rank with his majesty the king is a banner that I have by toil and effort set up. It would not be well to level it with the ground by indulgence and sloth. Without supporting trouble it is impossible to arrive at the carrying off of treasure, and unaccompanied by the thorn we cannot reap the enjoyment of the rose garden."

The informers furnished intelligence of this to the Lion, and recited the book of the affair, from preface to conclusion. The Lion nodded the head of approval, and said: "The people may be at peace in the just reign of that ruler who does not place his head on the pillow of repose." He then sent for the Tiger, and having distinguished him with special honours, committed that jungle to him, and, having bestowed on him the place of his sire, conferred on him, in addition, the dignity of being his heir.

And the use of this fable is, that thou mayest learn that to no one does the sun of his wish rise from the eastern quarter of hope without the diligent use of great exertion.

The Fox and the Drum

It is related that a Fox was once prowling over a moor, and was roaming in every direction in hope of scenting food. Presently he came to the foot of a tree, at the side of which they had suspended a drum, and whenever a gust of wind came, a branch of the tree was put in motion, and struck the surface of the drum, when a terrible noise arose from it.

The Fox, seeing a domestic fowl under the tree, who was pecking the ground with her beak, and searching for food, planted himself in ambush, and wished to make her his prey, when all of a sudden the sound of a drum reached his ear. He looked and saw a very fat form, and a prodigious sound from it reached his hearing. The appetite of the Fox was excited, and he thought to himself, "Assuredly its flesh and skin will be proportioned to its voice."

He issued from his lurking-place and turned toward the tree. The fowl being put on its guard by that circumstance, fled, and the Fox, by a hundred exertions, ascended the tree. Much did he labour till he had torn the drum, and then he found nought save a skin and a piece of wood. The fire of regret descended into his heart, and the water of contrition began to run from his eyes, and he said: "Alas! that by reason of this huge bulk which is all wind, that lawful prey has escaped from my hand, and from this empty form no advantage has resulted to me."

Loudly ever sounds the labour,
But in vain--within is nought:
Art thou wise, for substance labour,
Semblance will avail thee nought.

The Sparrows and the Falcon

Two Sparrows once fixed their nest on the branch of a tree; and of worldly gear, water and grain sufficed them; while on the summit of a mountain, beneath which that tree lay, a Falcon had its abode, which, at the time of stooping on its quarry, issued from its lurking-place like lightning, and, like heaven's bolt, clean consumed the feebler birds.

Whenever the Sparrows produced young, and the time was near at hand for them to fly, that Falcon, rushing forth from its ambush, used to carry them off and make them food for its own young. Now, to those Sparrows--in accordance with the saying, "The law of home is a part of faith"--to migrate from that place was impossible, and yet from the cruelty of the tyrannous Hawk it was difficult to reside there.

On one occasion their young ones, having gained strength and put forth feathers and wings, were able to move; and the father and mother, pleased with the sight of their offspring, testified their joy at their attempt to fly.

Suddenly the thought of the Falcon passed through their minds, and, all at once, they began to lament from anxiety.

One of their children--in whose countenance the signs of ripe discretion were visible--having inquired the reason of their despondency, they recounted the history of the Falcon's oppression and of its carrying off their young, with all the particulars.

The son said; "The Causer of Causes has sent a cure for every sorrow. It is probable that if ye exert yourselves in repelling this misfortune both this calamity will be averted from our heads and this burden removed from your hearts."

These words pleased the Sparrows; and while one of them stopped to attend the young ones, the other flew forth in search of relief. He resolved in his mind on the way that he would tell his story to whatsoever animal his eyes first fell upon, and ask a remedy for his heart's distress from it.

It happened that a Salamander, having come forth from a mine of fire, was wandering in the spreading plain of the desert. When the glance of the Sparrow lighted upon him, and that strange form came into his view, he said to himself: "I have fallen upon good! Come on, I will disclose the grief of my heart to this marvellous bird; perhaps he may undo the knot of my affairs and may show me the way to a remedy." Then with the utmost respect, he advanced to the Salamander, and after the usual salutation, paid the compliment of offering service. The Salamander, too, in a kind tone, expressed the courtesy required toward travellers and said: "The traces of weariness are discernible in thy countenance. If this arises from journeying, be pleased to halt some days in this neighbourhood; and if the case be aught else, explain it, that, to the extent of my power, I may exert myself to remedy it."

The Sparrow loosed his tongue, and represented to the Salamander his piteous condition, after a fashion, that, had he told it to a rock, it would have been rent in pieces by his distress.

After hearing his tale, the Salamander, too, felt the fire of compassion kindled, and he said; "Grieve not! for I will this night take such measures as to consume the Falcon's abode and nest and all that therein is. Do thou point out to me thy dwelling, and go to thy offspring until the time I come to thee."

The Sparrow indicated his dwelling in such a way as not to leave a doubt in the mind of the Salamander; and with a glad heart turned toward his own nest. When the night came on, the Salamander, with a number of its own kind, each carrying a quantity of naphtha and brimstone, set off in the direction of the spot, and under the guidance of that Sparrow conveyed themselves to the vicinity of the Falcon's nest.

The latter, unaware of the impending misfortune, had, with its young, eaten plentifully and fallen asleep. The Salamanders cast upon their nest all the naphtha and brimstone that they had brought with them and turned back and the blast of justice fell upon those oppressors. They rose up from the sleep of negligence and all of them, with their abode and nest, were at once consumed to ashes.

And this instance is given that thou mayest know that every one who labours to repel an enemy, though he be small and weak, and his foe great and strong, may yet hope for victory and triumph.

The Hermit, the Thief, and the Demon

It is related that a Hermit of pure disposition, abstemious and virtuous, had made his cell in one of the environs of Baghdad, and passed his morning and evening hours in the worship of the All-wise King, and by these means had shaken his skirt clear from the dust of worldly affairs. He had bowed his head in the corner of contentment under the collar of freedom from care, and rested satisfied with the portion that was supplied to him from the invisible world.

One of his sincere disciples got knowledge of the poverty and fastings of the Holy Man, and by way of offering, brought to the hermitage a she buffalo, young and fat, with whose delicious milk the palate of desire was oiled and sweetened.

A thief beheld the circumstance, and his hungry appetite was excited; and he set off for the cell of the recluse. A demon, too, joined him in the likeness of a man. The thief asked him: "Who art thou, and whither goest thou?" He replied: "I am a demon, who have assumed this shape, and, putting on this guise, am going to the hermitage of the recluse, for many of the people of this country, through the blessing of his instruction, have begun to repent and to be converted and the market of our temptations has become flat. I wish to get an opportunity and kill him. This is my story which thou hast heard; now, tell me, who art thou and what is thy story?" The thief replied:

"I am a man whose trade is roguery, and I am occupied night and day with thinking how to steal some one's goods and impose the scar of affliction on his heart. I am now going, as the recluse has got a fat buffalo, to steal it and use it for my own wants." The demon said;

"Praise be to God that the bond of kinship is strong between us, and this alone is sufficient to ally us, since the object of both is to assail him."

They then proceeded on their way, and at night reached the cell of the recluse. The latter had finished the performance of his daily worship, and had gone to sleep, just as he was, on his prayer-carpet. The thief bethought himself, that if the demon attempted to kill him he would probably awake and make an outcry; and the other people who were his neighbours, would be alarmed, and in that case it would be impossible to steal the buffalo. The demon, too, reflected that if the thief carried off the buffalo from the house, he must of course open the door. Then the noise of the door would very likely awaken the recluse, and he should have to postpone killing him. He then said to the thief: "Do thou wait and give me time to kill the hermit, and then do thou steal the buffalo." The thief rejoined: "Stop thou till I steal the buffalo, and then kill the hermit."

This difference was prolonged between them, and at last the words of both came to wrangling. The thief was so annoyed that he called out to the recluse: "There is a demon here who wants to kill thee." The demon, too, shouted: "Here is a thief, who wants to steal thy buffalo."

The hermit was roused by the uproar, and raised a cry, whereupon the neighbours came, and both the thief and the demon ran way; and the life and property of the Holy Man remained safe and secure through the quarrel of his enemies.

When the two hostile armies fall to strife,
Then from its sheath what need to draw the knife?

The King and the Hawk

It is related that in ancient times there was a King fond of hunting. He was ever giving reins to the courser of his desire in the pursuit of game, and was always casting the lasso of gladness over the neck of sport. Now this King had a Hawk, who at a single flight could bring down a pebble from the peak of the Caucasus, and in terror of whose claws the constellation Aquila kept himself in the green nest of the sky; and the King had a prodigious fondness for this Hawk and always cared for it with his own hands.

It happened one day that the Monarch, holding the Hawk on his hand, had gone to the chase. A stag leapt up before him and he galloped after it with the utmost eagerness. But he did not succeed in coming up with it, and became separated from his retinue and servants; and though some of them followed him, the King rode so hotly that the morning breeze could not have reached the dust he raised.

Meantime the fire of his thirst was kindled, and the intense desire to drink overcame the King. He galloped his steed in every direction in search of water until he reached the skirt of a mountain, and beheld that from its summit limpid water was trickling. The King drew forth a cup which he had in his quiver, and riding under the mountain filled the cup with that water, which fell drop by drop, and was about to take a draught, when the Hawk made a blow with his wing, and spilled all the water in the goblet. The King was vexed at this action, but held the cup a second time under the rock, until it was brimful. He then raised it to his lips again, and again the Hawk made a movement and overthrew the cup. The King rendered impatient by thirst, dashed the Hawk on the ground and killed it.

Shortly after a stirrup-holder of the King came up and saw the Hawk dead, and the Monarch athirst. He then undid a water-vessel from his saddle-cord and washed the cup clean, and was about to give the King a drink. The latter bade him ascend the mountain, as he had an inclination for the pure water which trickled from the rock; and could not wait to collect it in the cup, drop by drop. The stirrup-holder ascended the mountain and beheld a spring giving out a drop at a time with a hundred stintings; and a huge serpent lay dead on the margin of the fountain; and as the heat of the sun had taken effect upon it, the poisonous saliva mixed with the water of that mountain, and it trickled drop by drop down the rock.

The stirrup-holder was overcome with horror, and came down from the mountain bewildered, and represented the state of the case, and gave the King a cup of cold water from his ewer. The latter raised the cup to his lips, and his eyes overflowed with tears. The attendant asked the reason of his weeping. The King drew a sigh from his anguished heart and relating in full the story of the Hawk and the spilling of the water in the cup, said: "I grieve for the death of the Hawk, and bemoan my own deed in that without inquiry I have deprived a creature, so dear to me, of life." The attendant replied: "This Hawk protected thee from a great peril, and has established a claim to the gratitude of all the people of this country. It would have been better if the King had not been precipitate in slaying it, and had quenched the fire of wrath with the water of mildness."

The King replied; "I repent of this unseemly action; but my repentance is now unavailing, and the wound of this sorrow cannot be healed by any salve"; and this story is related in order that it may be known that many such incidents have occurred where, through the disastrous results of precipitation, men have fallen into the whirlpool of repentance.

The Mouse and the Frog

It is related that a Mouse had taken up its abode on the brink of a fountain and had fixed its residence at the foot of a tree.

A Frog, too, passed his time in the water there, and sometimes came to the margin of the pool to take the air. One day, coming to the edge of the water, he continued uttering his voice in a heart-rending cadence and assumed himself to be a nightingale of a thousand melodies.

At that time the Mouse was engaged in chanting in a corner of his cell. Directly he heard the uproarious yelling of the Frog he was astounded, and came out with the intention of taking a look at the reciter; and while occupied with listening to him, kept smiting his hands together and shaking his head. These gestures, which seemed to display approbation, pleased the Frog and he made advances toward acquaintance with him. In short, being mutually pleased with each other, they became inseparable companions, and used to narrate to each other entertaining stories and tales.

One day the Mouse said to the Frog: "I am oftentimes desirous of disclosing to thee a secret and recounting to thee a grief which I have at heart, and at that moment thou art abiding under the water. However much I shout thou nearest me not, owing to the noise of the water, and in spite of my crying to thee, the sound cannot reach thee, because of the clamour of the other frogs. We must devise some means by which thou mayest know when I come to the brink of the water, and thus mayest be informed of my arrival without my shouting to thee."

The Frog said: "Thou speakest the truth. I, too, have often pondered uneasily, thinking, should my friend come to the brink of the water, how shall I, at the bottom of this fountain, learn his arrival? And it sometimes happens that I, too, come to the mouth of thy hole, and thou hast gone out from another side, and I have to wait long. I had intended to have touched somewhat on this subject before, but now the arrangement of it rests with thee."

The Mouse replied: "I have got hold of the thread of a plan, and it appears to me the best thing to get a long string, and to fasten one end to thy foot, and tie the other tight around my own, in order that when I come to the water's edge and shake the string, thou mayest know what I want; and if thou, too, art so kind as to come to the door of my cell, I may also get information by thy jerking the string." Both parties agreed to this, and the knot of friendship was in this manner firmly secured, and they were also kept informed of one another's condition. One day, the Mouse came to the water's edge to seek the Frog, in order to renew their friendly converse. All of a sudden a Crow, like an unforeseen calamity, flew down from the air, and snatching up the Mouse, soared aloft, with him. The string which was tied to the leg of the Mouse drew forth the Frog from the bottom of the water, and, as the other leg was fastened to the Frog's leg, he was suspended head downward in the air. The Crow flew on, holding the Mouse in its beak, and lower still the Frog hanging head downward. People witnessing that extraordinary sight were uttering in the road various jokes and sarcasms: "A strange thing this, that contrary to his wont, a crow has made a prey of a frog!" and "Never before was a frog the prey of a crow!"

The Frog was howling out in reply: "Now, too, a Frog is not the prey of a Crow, but from the bad luck of associating with a Mouse, I have been caught in this calamity, and he who associates with a different species deserves a thousand times as much."

And this story carries with it this beneficial advice: That no one ought to associate with one of a different race, in order that, like the Frog, he may not be suspended on the string of calamity.

The Crow and the Partridge

It is related that one day a Crow was flying and saw a Partridge, which was walking gracefully on the ground with a quick step and graceful gait that enchanted the heart of the looker-on.

The Crow was pleased with the gait of the Partridge, and amazed at its agility. The desire of walking in the same manner fixed itself in his mind, and the insane longing to step proudly, after this fascinating fashion, made its appearance. He forthwith girt his loins in attendance on the Partridge, and abandoning sleep and food, gave himself up to that arduous occupation, and kept continually running in the traces of the Partridge and gazing on its progress.

One day the Partridge said: "O crazy, black-faced one! I observe that thou art ever hovering about me, and art always watching my motions. What is it that thou dost want?"

The Crow replied: "O thou of graceful manners and sweet smiling face, know that having conceived a desire to learn thy gait, I have followed thy steps for a long time past, and wish to acquire thy manner of walking, in order that I may place the foot of preeminence on the head of my fellows."

The Partridge uttered a merry laugh, and said: "Alack! alack! My walking gracefully is a thing implanted in me by nature, and thy style of going is equally a natural characteristic. My going is in one way, and thy mode of procedure is quite another. Leave off this fancy and relinquish this idea."

The Crow replied: "Since I have plunged into this affair, no idle stories shall make me give it up; and until I grasp my wished-for object, I will not turn back from this road."

So the unfortunate Crow for a long time ran after the Partridge, and having failed to learn his method of going, forgot his own too, and could in nowise recover it.

FABLES FROM THE HITOPADESA

"This work entitled Hitopadesa, or Friendly Instructor, affordeth elegance in the Sanskrit idioms, in every part variety of language, and inculcateth the doctrine of prudence and policy."

FABLES FROM THE HITOPADESA

The Traveller and the Tiger

A traveller, through lust of gold, being plunged into an inextricable mire, is killed and devoured by an old tiger.

As I was travelling on the southern road, once upon a time, I saw an old Tiger seated upon the bank of a large river, with a bunch of kusa grass in his paw, calling out to every one who passed: "Ho! ho! traveller, take this golden bracelet," but every one was afraid to approach him to receive it. At length, however, a certain wayfarer, tempted by avarice, regarded it as an instance of good fortune; but, said he, in this there is personal danger, in which we are not warranted to proceed. Yet, said he, there is risk in every undertaking for the acquisition of wealth.

The Traveller then asked where was the bracelet; and the Tiger, having held out his paw, showed it to him and said, "Look at it, it is a golden bracelet." "How shall I place confidence in thee?" said the Traveller; and the Tiger replied: "Formerly, in the days of my youth, I was of a very wicked disposition, and as a punishment for the many men and cattle I had murdered, my numerous children died, and I was also deprived of my wife; so, at present, I am destitute of relations. This being the case, I was advised, by a certain holy person, to practise charity and other religious duties, and I am now grown extremely devout. I perform ablutions regularly, and am charitable. Why, then, am I not worthy of confidence?"

"So far, you see," continued the Tiger, "I have an interest in wishing to give away to some one this golden bracelet from off my own wrist; and as thou appearest to be rather a poor man, I prefer giving it to thee; according to this saying:

"'Make choice of the poor, and bestow not thy gifts on others.' Then go, and having purified thyself in this stream, take the golden bracelet."

The Traveller no sooner began to enter the river to purify himself, than he stuck fast in the mud, and was unable to escape. The Tiger told him he would help him out; and creeping softly toward him, the poor man was seized, and instantly exclaimed to himself: "Alas! the career of my heart is cut short by fate!"

But whilst the unfortunate fellow was thus meditating, he was devoured by the Tiger. Hence also, it is at no time proper to undertake anything without examination.

The Jackal and the Cat

To one whose family and profession are unknown, one should not give residence: the Jackal Jarad-gava was killed through the fault of a Cat.

On the banks of the river Bhageerathee, and upon the mountain Greedhra-koota, there is a large parkattee tree, in the hollow of whose trunk there dwelt a Jackal, by name Jarad-gava, who, by some accident, was grown blind, and for whose support the different birds who roosted upon the branches of the same tree were wont to contribute a trifle from their own stores, by which he existed. It so fell out, that one day a certain Cat, by name Deerga-karna,[1] came there to prey upon the young birds, whom perceiving, the little nestlings were greatly terrified, and began to be very clamorous; and their cries being heard by Jarad-gava, he asked who was coming. The Cat Deerga-karna, too, seeing the Jackal, began to be alarmed, and said to himself: "Oh! I shall certainly be killed, for now that I am in his sight, it will not be in my power to escape. However, let what will be the consequence, I will approach him." So, having thus resolved, he went up to the Jackal, and said: "Master, I salute thee!" "Who art thou?" demanded the Jackal. Said he, "I am a Cat." "Ah! wicked animal," cried the Jackal, "get thee at a distance; for if thou dost not, I will put thee to death."

"Hear me for a moment," replied Puss, "and then determine whether I merit either to be punished or to be killed; for what is any one, simply by birth, to be punished or applauded? When his deeds have been scrutinized, he may, indeed, be either praiseworthy or punishable."

The Jackal after this desired the Cat to give some account of himself, and he complied in the following words: "I am," said he, "in the constant habit of performing ablutions on the side of this river; I never eat flesh, and I lead that mode of life which is called Brahma-Charya[2]. So, as thou art distinguished amongst those of thy own species, noted for skill in religious matters, and as a repository of confidence, and as the birds here are always speaking before me in praise of thy good qualities, I am come to hear from thy mouth, who art so old in wisdom, the duties of religion. Thou, master, art acquainted with the customs of life; but these young birds, who are in ignorance, would fain drive me, who am a stranger, away. The duties of a housekeeper are thus enjoined:

"Hospitality is commanded to be exercised, even toward an enemy, when he cometh to thine house. The tree doth not withdraw its shade, even from the wood-cutter.

"And again:

"Some straw, a room, water, and in the fourth place, gentle words. These things are never to be refused in good men's houses."

To all this the Jackal replied: "Cats have a taste for animal food, and above is the residence of the young birds: it is on this account I speak to thee."

The Cat, having touched his two ears, and then the ground, exclaimed: "I, who have read books upon the duties of religion, and am freed from inordinate desires, have forsaken such an evil practice; and, indeed, even amongst those who dispute with one another about the authority of the Sastras, there are many by whom this sentence: 'Not to kill is a supreme duty,' is altogether approved."

The Cat by these means having satisfied the jackal, he remained in the hollow of the tree with him and passed the time in amusing conversation; and the Jackal told the young birds that they had no occasion to go out of the way.

After this, when many days had passed, it was discovered that the Cat had, by degrees, drawn all the little birds down into the hollow of the tree, and there devoured them; but when he found inquiry was about to be made by those whose young ones had been eaten, he slipped out of the hole and made his escape. In the meantime, the bones of the young ones having been discovered in the hollow of the tree by the parent birds, who had been searching here and there, they concluded that their little ones had been devoured by the Jackal, and so, being joined by other birds, they put him to death.

Wherefore I say, "To one whose family and profession are unknown, one should not give residence."

[1]Long-ear

[2]Forsaking all worldly concerns to lead a godly life.

The Greedy Jackal

A hoard should always be made; but not too great a hoard. A Jackal, through the fault of hoarding too much, was killed by a bow.

A certain Huntsman, by name Bhirava, being fond of flesh, once upon a time went to hunt in the forests of the Vindhya mountains and having killed a Deer, as he was carrying him away, he chanced to see a wild Boar of a formidable appearance. So, laying the Deer upon the ground, he wounded the Boar with an arrow; but, upon his approaching him, the horrid animal set up a roar dreadful as the thunder of the clouds, and wounding the Huntsman in the groin, he fell like a tree cut off by the axe. At the same time, a Serpent, of that species which is called Ajagara, pressed by hunger and wandering about, rose up and bit the Boar, who instantly fell helpless upon him, and remained upon the spot. For:

The body having encountered some efficient cause, water, fire, poison, the sword, hunger, sickness, or a fall from an eminence, is forsaken by the vital spirits.

In the meantime, a Jackal, by name Deergharava, prowling about in search of prey, discovered the Deer, the Huntsman, and the Boar; and having observed them, he said to himself: "Here is a fine feast prepared for me; with their flesh I shall have food to eat. The Man will last me for a whole month, and the Deer and the Boar for two more; then the Serpent will serve me a day; and let me taste the bow-string too. But, in the first place, let me try that which is the least savoury. Suppose, then, I eat this catgut line which is fastened to the bow": saying so, he drew near to eat it; but the instant he had bit the line in two, he was torn asunder by the spring of the bow; and he was reduced to the state of the five elements. I say, therefore, "A hoard should always be made; but not too great a hoard."

The Elephant and the Jackal

That which cannot be effected by force may be achieved by cunning. An Elephant was killed by a Jackal, in going over a swampy place.

In the forest Brahmaranya there was an Elephant, whose name was Karphooratilaka,[1] who having been observed by the jackals, they all determined that if he could by any stratagem be killed, he would be four months' provisions for them all. One of them, who was of exceeding vicious inclination and by nature treacherous, declared that he would engage, by the strength of his own judgment, to effect his death. Some time after, this deceitful wretch went up to the Elephant, and having saluted him, said: "Godlike sir! Condescend to grant me an audience." "Who art thou?" demanded the Elephant, "and whence comest thou?" "My name," replied he, "is Kshudrabuddhi,[2] a jackal, sent into thy presence by all the inhabitants of the forest, assembled for that purpose, to represent that, as it is not expedient to reside in so large a forest as this without a chief, your Highness, endued with all the cardinal virtues, hath been selected to be anointed Rajah of the Woods. Then, that we may not lose the lucky moment," continued the Jackal, "be pleased to follow quickly." Saying this, he cocked his tail and went away.

The Elephant, whose reason was perverted by the lust of power, took the same road as the Jackal, and followed him so exactly that, at length, he stuck fast in a great mire. "O my friend!" cried the Elephant, "what is to be done in this disaster? I am sinking in a deep mire!"

The Jackal laughed, and said: "Please, your divine Highness, take hold of my tail with your trunk, and get out! This is the fruit of those words which thou didst place confidence in."

They say:

As often as thou shalt be deprived of the society of the good, so often shalt thou fall into the company of knaves.

After a few days, the Elephant dying for want of food, his flesh was devoured by the Jackals. I say, therefore: "That which cannot be effected by force, may be achieved by cunning."

[1]Marked with white spots.

[2]Low-minded, mean-spirited, bad-hearted.

The Lion, the Mouse, and the Cat

The master should never be rendered free from apprehension by his servants, for a servant having quieted the fears of his master may experience the fate of Dahdikarna.[1]

Upon the mountain Arbuda-sikhara, there was a Lion, whose name was Maliavikrama[2] the tips of whose mane a Mouse was wont to gnaw, as he slept in his den. The noble beast, having discovered that his hair was bitten, was very much displeased; and as he was unable to catch the offender, who always slipped into his hole, he meditated what was best to be done; and having resolved, said he:

"Whoso hath a trifling enemy, who is not to be overcome by dint of valour, should employ against him a force of his own likeness."

With a review of this saying, the Lion repaired to the village, and by means of a piece of meat thrown into his hole, with some difficulty caught a Cat, whose name was Dadhikarna. He carried him home, and the Mouse for some time being afraid to venture out, the Lion remained with his hair unnipped. At length, however, the Mouse was so oppressed with hunger, that creeping about he was caught and devoured by the Cat. The Lion now, no longer hearing the noise of the Mouse, thought he had no further occasion for the services of the Cat, and so began to be sparing of his allowance; and, in consequence, poor Puss pined away and died for want. Wherefore, I say: "The master should never be rendered free from apprehension by his servants."

[1]Whose ears are the colour of curds.

[2]Great courage.

The Poor Woman and the Bell

It is not proper to be alarmed by a mere sound, when the cause of that sound is unknown. A poor woman obtaineth consequence for discovering the cause of a sound.

Between the mountains Sree-parvata there is a city called Brahma-puree, the inhabitants of which used to believe that a certain giant, whom they called Ghautta-Karna, infested one of the adjacent hills.

The fact was thus: A thief, as he was running away with a Bell he had stolen, was overcome and devoured by a tiger; and the Bell falling from his hand having been picked up by some monkeys, every now and then they used to ring it. Now the people of the town finding that a man had been killed there, and at the same time hearing the Bell, used to declare that the giant Ghautta-Karna being enraged, was devouring a man, and ringing his Bell; so that the city was abandoned by all the principal inhabitants. At length, however, a certain Poor Woman having considered the subject, discovered that the Bell was rung by the monkeys.

She accordingly went to the Rajah, and said:

"If, divine sir, I may expect a very great reward, I will engage to silence this Ghautta-Karna."

The Rajah was exceedingly well pleased, and gave her some money. So having displayed her consequence to the priesthood of the country, to the leaders of the army, and to all the rest of the people, she provided such fruits as she conceived the monkeys were fond of, and went into the wood; where strewing them about, they presently quitted the Bell, and attached themselves to the fruit. The Poor Woman, in the meantime, took away the Bell, and repaired to the city, where she became an object of adoration to its inhabitants. Wherefore, I say: "It is not proper to be alarmed by a mere sound, when the cause of the sound is unknown."

The Lion and the Rabbit

He who bath sense hath strength. Where hath he strength who wanteth judgment? See how a Lion, when intoxicated with anger, was overcome by a Rabbit.

Upon a certain mountain there lived a Lion, whose name was Durganta,[1] who was perpetually sacrificing animals to his gods; so that, at length, all the different species assembled, and, in a body, represented that, as by his present mode of proceeding the forest would be cleared all at once; if it pleased his Highness, they would, each of them in his turn, provide him an animal for his daily food; and the Lion gave, his consent accordingly. So every beast delivered his stipulated provision, till at length, in coming to the Rabbit's turn he began to meditate in this manner: "Policy should be practised by him who would save his life; and I myself shall lose mine, if I do not take care. Suppose I lead him after another Lion? Who knows how that may turn out for me? Then I will approach him slowly, as if fatigued."

The Lion by this time began to be very hungry; so, seeing the Rabbit coming toward him, he called out in a great passion: "What is the reason thou comest so late?" "Please your Highness," said the Rabbit "as I was coming along, I was forcibly detained by another of your species; but having given him my word that I would return immediately I came here to represent it to your Highness." "Go quickly," said the Lion in a rage, "and show me where this vile wretch may be found?"

Accordingly the Rabbit conducted the Lion to the brink of a deep well, where being arrived, "There," said the Rabbit, "look down and behold him"; at the same time he pointed to the reflected image of the Lion in the water; who swelling with pride and resentment, leaped into the well, as he thought, upon his adversary, and thus put an end to his own life. I repeat, therefore: "He who hath sense, hath strength."

[1]Hard to go near.

The Birds and the Monkeys

A wise man is worthy to be advised; but an ignorant one never. Certain birds, having given advice to a troop of monkeys, have their nests torn to pieces, and are obliged to fly away.

On the banks of the river Navmoda, upon a neighbouring mountain, there was a large Salmalee tree wherein certain Birds were wont to build their nests and reside, even during the season of the rains. One day the sky being overcast with a troop of thick dark clouds, there fell a shower of rain in very large streams. The Birds seeing a troop of Monkeys at the foot of the tree, all wet, and shivering with cold, called out to them; "Ho, Monkeys! why don't you invent something to protect you from the rain? We build ourselves nests with straws collected with nothing else but our bills. How is this, that you, who are blessed with hands and feet, yield to such sufferings?"

The Monkeys hearing this, and understanding it as a kind of reproach, were exceedingly irritated and said amongst themselves: "Those Birds there, sitting comfortably out of the wind within their warm nests, are laughing at us! So let them, as long as the shower may last." In short, as soon as the rain subsided, the whole troop of them mounted into the tree, where tearing all the nests to pieces, the eggs fell upon the ground and were broken. I say, therefore: "A wise man is worthy to be advised, but an ignorant one never."

The Rabbits and the Elephants

Great things may be effected by wise counsel, when a sovereign enemy may be too powerful. Certain Rabbits were enabled to live in comfort, through the policy of one of their brethren.

Once upon a time, for want of rain in due season, a troop of Elephants being greatly distressed for water, addressed their chief in these words: "What resource have we, except in that hollow sinking ground inhabited by those little animals! but deprived of that too, whither, sir, shall we go? What shall we do?"

Upon hearing their complaints, their chief, after travelling with them a great way, discovered a fountain of clear water. But, as many Rabbits who happened, to be in their burrows were crushed to death under the feet of so many Elephants trampling over their warren, at length, one of them, reflected in this manner: "This troop of Elephants, oppressed with thirst, will be coming here every day to drink, and, at length, our whole race will be destroyed!" But an old buck said to him, "Brother, don't be uneasy; for I am going to prevent what thou dreadest." Saying which, he set off to try how he could oppose them; but as he went along, he began to consider how he should approach so formidable a troop; "for," observed he, "they say:

"'An elephant killeth even by touching, a serpent even by smelling, a king even by ruling, and a wicked man by laughing at one.'

"Wherefore, I will mount the summit of a rock to address the head of the troop."

This being put in execution accordingly, the chief Elephant asked him who he was, and whence he came. "I am," he replied, "an ambassador sent here by the god Chandra." "Declare the purport of thy commission," said the Elephant. "Sir," replied the Rabbit, "as ambassadors, even when the weapons of war are lifted up, speak not otherwise than for the benefit of their State; and although they speak boldly according as it is their advantage, they are not to be put to death; then I will declare what are the commands of the god Chandra. He bade me say, that in driving away and destroying the Rabbits who are appointed to guard the fountain which is consecrated to that duty, you have done ill; 'for,' said he, 'they are my guards and it is notorious that the figure of a Rabbit is my emblem.'"

The head Elephant, upon hearing this became greatly alarmed, declared that they had offended through ignorance, and would never go to the fountain again.

"If this be your resolution," said the ambassador, "go this once, and make your submission before the diety himself, whom you will see in the fountain, quite agitated with anger; and when you have pacified him, you may depart."

Accordingly, as soon as it was night, the ambassador Vijaya having conducted the chief of the Elephants to the fountain, there showed him the image of the moon, trembling, as it were, upon the smooth surface of the water and when he had made him bow down to it, in token of submission, he said: "Please your divinity! What hath been done having been done through ignorance, I pray thee pardon them!" and upon saying this, he caused the Elephant to depart. I repeat, therefore, "Great things may be effected by wise counsel, when a sovereign enemy may be too powerful."

The Blue Jackal

The fool who forsaketh his own party, and delighteth to dwell with the opposite side may be killed by them; as was the case with the Blue Jackal.

A certain Jackal, as he was roaming about the borders of a town, just as his inclinations led him, fell into a dyer's vat;[1] but being unable to get out in the morning he feigned himself dead. At length, the master of the vat, which was filled with indigo, came, and seeing a Jackal lying with his legs uppermost, his eyes closed, and his teeth bare, concluded that he was dead, and so, taking him out, he carried him a good way from the town, and there left him. The sly animal instantly got up, and ran into the woods; when, observing that his coat was turned blue, he meditated in this manner: "I am now of the finest colour! what great exaltation may I not bring about for myself?" Saying this, he called a number of Jackals together, and addressed them in the following words: "Know that I have lately been sprinkled king of the forests, by the hands of the goddess herself who presides over these woods, with a water drawn from a variety of choice herbs. Observe my colour, and henceforward let every business be transacted according to my orders."

The rest of the Jackals, seeing him of such a fine complexion, prostrated themselves before him, and said: "According as your Highness commands!" By this step he made himself honoured by his own relations, and so gained the supreme power over those of his own species, as well as all the other inhabitants of the forests. But after a while, finding himself surrounded by a levee of the first quality, such as the tiger and the like, he began to look down upon his relations; and, at length, he kept them at a distance. A certain old Jackal perceiving that his brethren were very much cast down at this behaviour, cried: "Do not despair! If it continues thus, this imprudent friend of ours will force us to be revenged. Let me alone to contrive his downfall. The lion, and the rest who pay him court, are taken by his outward appearance; and they obey him as their king, because they are not aware that he is nothing but a Jackal: do something then by which he may be found out. Let this plan be pursued: Assemble all of you in a body about the close of the evening, and set up one general howl in his hearing; and I'll warrant you, the natural disposition of his species will incline him to join in the cry for:

"'Whatever may be the natural propensity of any one is very hard to be overcome. If a dog were made king, would he not gnaw his shoe straps?'

"And thus, the tiger discovering that he is nothing but a Jackal, will presently put him to death."

In short, the plan was executed, and the event was just as it had been foretold. I repeat, therefore: "The fool who forsaketh his own party and delighteth to dwell with the opposite side, may be killed by them."

[1]A dyer's vat, in Hindostan, is a large pan sunk in the ground, often in the little court before the dyer's house.

The Mouse Who Became a Tiger

One of low degree, having obtained a worthy station, seeketh to destroy his master; like the mouse, who having been raised to the state of a Tiger, went to kill the Hermit.

In a certain forest, there once dwelt a Hermit whose name was Maha-tapa. One day seeing a young Mouse fall from the mouth of a crow near his hermitage, out of compassion be took it up and reared it with broken particles of rice. He now observed that the cat was seeking to destroy it; so, by the sacred powers of a saint, he metamorphosed his Mouse into a cat; but his cat being afraid of his dog, he changed her into a dog; and the dog being terrified at the tiger, at length he was transformed into a Tiger. The holy man now regarded the Tiger as no way superior to his Mouse. But the people who came to visit the Hermit, used to tell one another that the Tiger which they saw there had been made so by the power of the saint, from a Mouse; and this being overheard by the Tiger, he was very uneasy, and said to himself: "As long as this Hermit is alive, the disgraceful story of my former state will be brought to my ears"; saying which he went to kill his protector; but as the holy man penetrated his design with his supernatural eye, he reduced him to his former state of a Mouse. I repeat, therefore: "One of low degree, having obtained a worthy station, may seek to destroy his master."

The Brahmin and the Goat

He who, judging by what passeth in his own breast, believeth a knave to be a person of veracity, is deceived; as the Brahmin was concerning his Goat.

In a certain forest, a Brahmin, having determined to make an offering, went to a neighbouring village and purchased a Goat, which having thrown across his shoulder, he turned toward home. As he was travelling along, he was perceived by three thieves. "If," said they, "we could by some artifice get the Goat from that man, it would be a great proof of our address."

Saying this, they agreed upon their stratagem, and executed it in this manner: They stationed themselves before the Brahmin, and sat down under the trees in the road which led to his habitation, till he should come up to them. Soon after, he was accosted by one of them in this manner: "Is not that a dog? Brahmin, what is the reason thou carriest it upon thy shoulder?" The Brahmin replied: "No, it is not a dog; it is a Goat, which I have purchased to make an offering of." About a mile farther on he met another of them, who repeating the same question, he took the Goat from his shoulder, and putting it upon the ground, examined it again and again; and at length, replacing it upon his shoulder, he went on, quite staggered as it were, for:

The minds even of good men are staggered by the arguments of the wicked; but those who place confidence in them may suffer by it.

At length the Brahmin, having heard the third thief, like the former two, insist upon it that he had a dog upon his shoulder, was convinced that it was indeed a dog; and so, leaving his Goat behind him, which the thieves presently took away and made a feast of, the good man washed himself and went home. Whence, I say, "He who, judging by what passeth in his own breast, believeth a knave to be a person of veracity, is deceived."

FABLES FROM INDIA

"These simple children's stories have lived on, and maintained their place of honour and their undisputed sway in every schoolroom of the East and every nursery of the West."

F. MAX MULLER

FABLES FROM INDIA

The Lion, the Fox, and the Story-teller

A Lion who was the king of a great forest once said to his subjects: "I want some one among you to tell me stories one after another without ceasing. If you fail to find somebody who can so amuse me, you will all be put to death."

In the East there is a proverb which says; "The king kills when he will," so the animals were in great alarm.

The Fox said: "Fear not; I shall save you all. Tell the king the Story-teller is ready to come to court when ordered." So the animals had orders to send the Story-teller at once to the presence. The Fox bowed respectfully, and stood before the king, who said: "So you are to tell us stories without ceasing?"

"Yes, your Majesty," said the Fox.

"Then begin," said the Lion.

"But before I do so," said the Fox, "I would like to know what your Majesty means by a story."

"Why," said the Lion, "a narrative containing some interesting event or fact."

"Just so," said the Fox, and began: "There was once a fisherman who went to sea with a huge net, and spread it far and wide. A great many fish got into it. Just as the fisherman was about to draw the net the coils snapped. A great opening was made. First one fish escaped." Then the Fox stopped.

"What then?" said the Lion.

"Then two escaped," said the Fox.

"What then?" asked the impatient Lion.