No More Learning

Caru-datta — And why not, pray?
Maitreya —Why, what's the use, when the gods you have wor
shiped have done nothing for you ? Caru-datta —
Friend, speak not thus, for worship is the duty Of every family ; the gods are honored
By offerings, and gratified by acts
Of penance and restraint in thought and word. Therefore, delay not to present the oblation.
Maitreya — I don't intend to go; send some one else. Caru-datta —
Stay quiet then for a little, till I have finished My religious meditations and prayer.
They are supposed here to retire, and a voice is heard be hind the scenes : —
Stop ! Vasanta-sena, stop !
The heroine of the play now appears in front of Caru- datta's house, pursued by the king's worthless but wealthy brother-in-law, called Samsthanaka, who is an embodiment of everything vicious and mean, in exact contrast to Caru-datta.
Samsthanaka — Stop! Vasanta-sena, stop! Why do you run away ? Don't be alarmed. I am not going to kill you. My poor
THE CLAY CART. 285
heart is on fire with love, like a piece of meat placed on a heap of burning coals.
Vasanta-sena — Noble sir, I am only a weak woman. Samstlianaka — That is just why I don't intend murdering you. Vasanta-sena — Why then do you pursue me ? Do you seek my
jewels ?
Samsthandka — No, I only seek to gain your affections.
At this point the frightened Vasanta-sena discovers that she is close to Caru-datta's house. He is not only loved by her, but greatly respected as a man of honor ; and under cover of the evening darkness, now supposed to have supervened, she slips into the courtyard of his house by a side door, and hides herself. A companion who is with the king's brother now counsels him to desist from following her, by remarking: —
An elephant is bound by a chain,
A horse is curbed by a bridle and rein ; — But a woman is only held by her heart
If you can't hold that, you had better depart.
Samsthanaka, however, forces his way into Caru-datta's house ; and there finding Caru-datta's friend and companion Maitreya, thus addresses him: —
Take this message to Caru-datta. — Vasanta-sena loves you, and has taken refuge in your house. If you will deliver her up, you shall be rewarded by my everlasting friendship; if not, I shall remain your enemy till death. Give this message, so that I may hear you from the neighboring terrace; refuse to say exactly what I have told you, and I will crush your head as I would a wood apple beneath a door.
He then leaves the stage.
Maitreya accordingly delivers the message. Soon after wards the heroine Vasanta-sena ventures into the presence of Caru-datta, asks pardon for intruding into his house, requests him to take charge of a golden casket containing her ornaments as a deposit left in trust, and solicits his friend's escort back to her own house.
Maitreya is too much alarmed to accompany her, so Caru- datta himself escorts Vasanta-sena home.
So far is an epitome of the first act.
At the commencement of the second act a gambler is intro duced running away from the keeper of a gaming house, named
286 THE CLAY CART.
Mathura, and another gambler to whom the first gambler has lost money, who are both pursuing him.
First Gambler — The master of the tables and the gamester are at my heels : how can I escape them ? Here is an empty temple: I will enter it walking backwards, and pretend to be its idol.
Mathura — Ho there ! stop, thief ! A gambler has lost ten suvar- nas, and is running off without paying. Stop him, stop him !
Second Gambler — He has run as far as this point ; but here the
They enter and make signs to each other on discovering the object of their search, who pretends to be an idol fixed on a pedestal.
track is lost. — Mathura Ah !
I see, — the footsteps are reversed : the rogue has walked backwards into this temple which has no image in it.
Second Gambler — Is this a wooden image, I wonder?
Mathura — No, no, it must be made of stone, I think. [So say ing, they shake and pinch him. ] Never mind, sit we down here, and play out our game. [They commence playing. ]
First Gambler [still acting the image, but looking on and toith difficulty restraining his wish to join in the game. Aside] — The rat tling of dice is as tantalizing to a penniless man as the sound of drums to a dethroned monarch ; verily it is sweet as the note of a nightingale.
Second Gambler — The throw is mine, the throw is mine! Mathura — No, it is mine, I say.
First Gambler [forgetting himself and jumping off his pedestal] —
No, I tell you it is mine.
Second Gambler — We've caught him!
Mathura — Yes, rascal, you're caught at last: hand over the
suvarnas. — First Gambler
Worthy sir, I'll pay them in good time.
Mathura — Hand them over this very minute, I say. [ They beat
him. ]
First Gambler [aside to Second Gambler] — I'll pay you half if
you will forgive me the rest.
Second Gambler — Agreed.
First Gambler [aside to Mathura] — I'll give you security for
half if you will let me off the other half.
Mathura — Agreed.
First Gambler — Then good morning to you, sirs; I'm off.
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Mathura —Hullo! stop there, where are you going so fast? Hand over the money.
First Gambler — See here, my good sirs, one has taken security for half, and the other has let me off another half. Isn't it clear I have nothing to pay ?
Mathura —No, no, my fine fellow: my name is Mathura, and I'm not such a fool as you take me for. Don't suppose I'm going to be cheated out of my ten suvarnas in this way. Hand them over, you scoundrel.
Upon that they set to work beating the unfortunate gam bler, whose cries for help bring to his rescue another gamester who happens to be passing. A general scuffle now takes place, and in the midst of the confusion the first gambler escapes. In his flight he comes to the house of Vasanta-sena, and finding the door open, rushes in. Vasanta-sena inquires who he is and what he wants. He then recites his story, and makes known to her that having been once in the service of Caru-datta, and having been discharged by him on account of his reduced cir cumstances, he has been driven to seek a livelihood by gambling. The mention of Caru-datta at once secures Vasanta-sena's aid ; and the pursuers having now tracked their fugitive to the door of her house, she sends them out a jeweled bracelet, which satis fies their demands, and they retire. The gambler expresses the deepest gratitude, hopes in return to be of use to Vasanta-sena at some future time, and announces his intention of abandoning his disreputable mode of life and becoming a Buddhist mendicant.
The third act opens with a scene inside Caru-datta's house. The time is supposed to be night. Caru-datta and Maitreya are absent at a concert. A servant is preparing their sleeping couches, and commences talking to himself thus : —
A good master who is kind to his servants, even though he be poor, is their delight ; while a harsh fellow, who is always finding fault and has nothing but his money to be proud of, is a perpetual torment from morning to night. Well, well ! one can't alter nature ; an ox can't be kept out of a field of corn, and a man once addicted to gambling can't be induced to leave off. My good master has gone to a concert. I must await his return ; so I may as well take a nap in the hall.
Meanwhile Caru-datta and Maitreya come back, and the servant delivers Vasanta-sena's golden casket, saying that it is his turn to take charge of it by night. They now lie down.
288
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Maitreya — Are you sleepy ? Carvr&atta —
Yes:
I feel inconstant sleep, with shadowy form Viewless and wayward, creep across my brow And weigh my eyelids down ; her soft approach Is like Decay's advance, which stronger grows Till it has mastered all our faculties,
And life is lost in blank unconsciousness.
The whole household is soon buried in slumber, when a thief named Sarvilaka is seen to approach. His soliloquy, while he proceeds to accomplish his design of breaking into the house, is curious, as showing that an Indian burglar's mode of operation in ancient times differed very little from that now in fashion. Moreover, it appears that the whole practice of housebreaking was carried on by professional artists according to certain fixed rules and principles, which a master of the science, named Yogacarya, had embodied in a kind of "Thieves' Manual," for the better training of his disciples. It is evident, too, that the fraternity of thieves, burglars, and rogues had a special presiding Deity and Patron in India, much in the same way as in ancient Greece and Rome.
It may be noted also, as still more curious, that the particu lar burglar here introduced is represented as a Brahman, that he is made to speak the learned language, Sanskrit, and to dis play acquaintance with Sanskrit literature ; while all the sub ordinate characters in Indian dramas, including women of rank, are represented as speaking one or other of the provincial dia lects called Prakrit. Here is part of the burglar's soliloquy : —
I advance creeping stealthily along the ground, like a snake wig gling out of its worn-out skin, making a path for my operations by the sheer force of my scientific craft, and artfully constructing an opening just big enough to admit my body with ease.
This friendly night which covers all the stars With a thick coat of darkness, acts the part Of a kind mother, shrouding me, her son, Whose valor is displayed in night assaults Upon my neighbors, and whose only dread
Is to be pounced upon by royal watchmen.
Good ! I have made a hole in the garden wall, and am now in the midst of the premises. Now for an attack on the four walls of the house itself.
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Men call this occupation mean, which thrives By triumphing o'er sleeping enemies.
This, they say, is not chivalry but burglary : But better far reproach with independence, Than cringing service without liberty ;
And did not Aswatthaman long ago CFerpower in night attack his slumbering foe?
289
Where shall I make my breach ? Ah ! here's a rat hole — this is the very thing we disciples of the god Skanda hail as the best guide to our operations, and the best omen of success. Here then I must begin my excavation, that is clear; but how shall I pro ceed ? The golden-speared god has taught four methods of making a breach : namely, — pulling out baked bricks, cutting through un baked ones; soaking a mud wall with water, and boring through one made of wood. This wall is evidently of baked bricks, so they must be pulled out. Now for the shape of the hole. It must be carved according to some orthodox pattern : shall it be like a lotus
Then follows a little of the burglar's plain prose : —
Imust do it cleverly, so that to-morrow morning people may look at my handi
blossom, the sun, a crescent, a lake, a triangle, or a jar ?
work with wonder, and say to each other, " None but a skilled artist could have done this ! " The jar shape looks best in a wall of baked bricks. Be it so : now, then, to work ! Reverence to the golden- speared god Karttikeya, the giver of all boons ! Reverence to
Yogacarya, whose chief disciple I
am, and who was so pleased with his pupil that he gave me a magical pigment, which, when spread
over my body, prevents any police officer from catching sight of me
I have forgotten my measuring line. Never mind, I can use my Brahmanical cord, — a most serviceable implement to all Brahmans,
and any weapons from harming my limbs. Ah ! what a pity !
especially to men of my profession. It serves to measure a wall, or to throw round ornaments which have to be drawn from their places, or to lift the latch of a door, or to bind up one's finger when bitten by insects or snakes. And now, to commence measur ing. Good! the hole is exactly the right size; only one brick
I must bind up my finger and apply the antidote that's the only cure. Now I
remains ! Ah ! botheration !
I am bitten by a snake :
am all right again. Let me first peep in. What ! A light gleams somewhere ! Never mind ! the breach being perfect, I must creep in. Reverence to Karttikeya ! How now ! two men asleep ! Are they really asleep, or only shamming ? If they are shamming, they won't bear the glimmer of this lamp when passed over their faces ; — they are fast asleep, I believe, — their breathing is regular, their eyes are firmly closed, their joints are all relaxed, and their limbs
VOL. VII. — 19
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of a dancing master ; I had better be off.
Maitreya here calls out in his sleep : —
protrude beyond the bed. What have we here ? Here are tabors, a lute, flutes, and books ; why, I must have broken into the house
an old bathing dress. Very good !
I took it for the mansion of a man of rank.
Master, I am afraid some thief is breaking into the house ; take you charge of the golden casket.
Sarvilaka — What! does he see me? Shall I have to kill him? No, no, it's all right, — he's only dreaming and talking in his sleep. But sure enough, he has hold of a casket of jewels wrapped up in
I will relieve him of his burden ; — but no, it's a shame to take the only thing the poor creature seems
to possess ; so I'll be off without more ado.
Maitreya — My good friend, if you won't take the casket, may
you incur the curse of disappointing the wishes of a cow and of a Brahman.
Sarvilaka — The wishes of a cow and a Brahman! These are much too sacred to be opposed ; so take the casket I must.
Accordingly he helps himself to the casket, and proceeds to make good his escape.
The noise he makes in going out rouses its inmates, and they discover that the house has been robbed. Caru-datta is greatly shocked at the loss of Vasanta-sena's casket, which had been deposited with him in trust. He has only one valuable thing left, — a necklace or string of jewels, forming part of the private property of his wife. This he sends by Maitreya to Vasanta-sena as a substitute for the casket.
The fourth act commences with a scene in Vasanta-sena's house. The burglar Sarvilaka is seen to approach, but this time with no burglarious designs. It appears that he is in love with Vasanta-sena's slave girl, and hopes to purchase her freedom by offering as a ransom the stolen casket of jewels, being of course ignorant that he is offering it to its owner. —
As he advances towards the house, he thus soliloquizes :
I have brought blame and censure on the night, I've triumphed over slumber, and defied
The vigilance of royal watchmen ; now
I imitate the moon, who, when the night
Is closing, quickly pales beneath the rays Of the ascending sun, and hides himself. I tremble, or I run, or stand aside,
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Or seek deliverance by a hundred shifts,
If haply from behind some hurried step Appears to track me, or a passer-by
Casts but a glance upon me ; every one
Is viewed by me suspiciously, for thus
A guilty conscience makes a man a coward, Affrighting him with his unrighteous deeds.
On reaching the house, he sees the object of his affections, the female slave of Vasanta-sena. He presents her with the casket, and begs her to take it to her mistress, and request in return freedom from further service. The servant girl, on see ing the casket, recognizes the ornaments as belonging to her mistress. She then reproaches her lover, who is forced to con fess how they came into his possession, and to explain that they were stolen entirely out of love for her. The altercation which ensues leads him to make some very disparaging remarks on the female sex generally. Here is a specimen of his asperities, which are somewhat softened down in the translation : —
A woman will for money smile or weep
According to your will ; she makes a man
Put trust in her, but trusts him not herself.
Women are as inconstant as the waves
Of ocean, their affection is as fugitive
As streak of sunset glow upon a cloud.
They cling with eager fondness to the man
Who yields them wealth, which they squeeze out like sap Out of a juicy plant, and then they leave him.
Therefore are men thought foolish who confide
In women and in fortune, for their windings
Are like the coils of serpent nymphs, insidious.
Well is it said, you cannot alter nature ;
The lotus grows not on the mountain top,
Asses refuse to bear a horse's burden,
He who sows barley reaps not fields of rice :
Do what you will, a woman will be a woman.
After other still more caustic aspersions, the thief Sarvilaka and his lover make up their differences, and it is agreed be tween them that the only way out of the difficulty is for him to take the casket to Vasanta-sena, as if he were a messenger from Caru-datta, sent to restore her property. This he does : and Vasanta-sena, who, unknown to the lovers, has overheard
292 THE CLAY CART.
their conversation, astonishes Sarvilaka by setting her slave girl free and permitting her to become his wife, thus affording a practical refutation of his charge against women of selfish ness and want of generosity.
Soon after the departure of the lovers, an attendant an nounces the arrival of a Brahman from Caru-datta. This turns out to be Maitreya, who is honored by an introduction into the private garden attached to the inner apartments of Vasanta- sena's house. His passage through the courts of the mansion, no less than seven in number, is made an occasion for describ ing the interior of the splendid residence which a Hindu lady of wealth and fashion might be supposed, allowing for a little play of the imagination, to occupy.
The description affords a striking picture of Indian life and manners, which to this day are not greatly changed. The account of the courtyards will remind those who have seen Pompeii of some of the houses there, and will illustrate the now universally received opinion of the common origin of Hindus, Greeks, and Romans. Of course the object of Maitreya's visit to Vasanta-sena is to confess the loss of the casket, and to request her acceptance of the string of jewels from Caru-datta as a compensation. The good man in his simplicity expects that she will politely decline the costly present tendered by Caru-datta as a substitute for her far less valuable casket of ornaments ; but to his surprise and disgust she eagerly accepts the proffered compensation, and dismisses him with a few com plimentary words, — intending however, as it afterwards appears, to make the acceptance of Caru-datta's compensation an excuse for going in person to his house, that she may see him once again and restore to him with her own hand both the necklace and casket.
The fifth act opens with a scene in Caru-datta's garden. A heavy thunderstorm is supposed to be gathering, when Maitreya enters, salutes Caru-datta, and informs him of the particulars of his interview with Vasanta-sena. The rain now begins to descend in torrents, when a servant arrives to announce that Vasanta-sena is waiting outside. On hearing this, Maitreya says : —
What can she have come for ? Oh ! I know what she wants. She considers the casket worth more than the necklace of jewels, and so she wants to get the balance out of you.
Caru-datta — Then she shall go away satisfied.
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Meanwhile some delay occurs in admitting Vasanta-sena, which is made an occasion for introducing a dialogue between her and her attendant, in the course of which they are made to describe very poetically the grandeur of the approaching storm : the sudden accumulation of dense masses of threatening clouds, the increasing gloom followed by portentous darkness, the ter rific rolling of thunder, the blaze of blinding lightning, the sud den outburst of rain, as if the very clouds themselves were falling, and the effect of all this upon the animals, — some of which, such as the peacocks and storks, welcome the strife of elements with their shrillest cries.
In her descriptions of the scene, Vasanta-sena speaks Sanskrit, which is quite an unusual circumstance, and an evidence of her superior education (no good sign, however, according to Eastern ideas), — the female characters in Indian dramas being supposed to be incapable of speaking anything but the ordinary provincial Prakrit. Vasanta-sena is ultimately admitted to the presence of Caru- datta, and before returning the necklace practices a little play ful deception upon him as a set-off against that tried upon herself. She pretends that the string of pearls sent to her by Caru-datta has been accidentally lost by her ; she therefore pro duces a casket which she begs him to accept in its place. This, of course, turns out to be the identical casket which the thief had carried off from Caru-datta's house. In the end the whole matter is explained, and both casket and necklace are given over to Caru-datta ; and the storm, having now increased in violence, Vasanta-sena, to her great delight, is obliged to accept the shelter of his roof and is conducted to his private apartments. This brings five acts of the drama to a close.
At the commencement of the sixth act, Vasanta-sena is sup posed to be at Caru-datta's house, waiting for a covered car riage which is to convey her away. While the vehicle is preparing, Caru-datta's child, a little boy, comes into the room with a toy cart made of clay. He appears to be crying, and an attendant explains that his tears are caused by certain childish troubles connected with his clay cart, which has ceased to please him since his happening to see one made of gold belonging to a neighbor's child. Upon this Vasanta-sena takes off her jeweled ornaments, places them in the clay cart, and tells the child to purchase a golden cart with the value of the jewels, as a present from herself. While this is going on, the carriage which is to convey her away is brought up to the door, but is
294 THE CLAY CART.
driven off again to fetch some cushions accidentally forgotten by the driver. Meanwhile an empty carriage belonging to Samsthanaka, — the worthless brother-in-law of the king, — which is on its way to meet him at an appointed place in a cer tain garden called Pushpa-karandaka, happens to stop for a moment, impeded by some obstruction in the road close to the door of Caru-datta's house. Vasanta-sena, having been told that Caru-datta's carriage is ready and waiting for her, goes suddenly out and jumps by mistake into the carriage of the man who is most hateful to her, and the very man who is rep resented as persecuting her by his attentions in the first act. The driver of the empty vehicle, quite unaware of the passen ger he has suddenly received, and finding the road now clear before him, drives on to meet his master. Soon afterwards the empty carriage of Caru-datta is brought to the door, and in con nection with this incident an important part of the under plot of the drama is then introduced.
The seventh act continues this underplot, which, although ingeniously interwoven with the main action of the drama, is not sufficiently interesting to be worth following out in this epitome.
The eighth act commences with a scene in the Pushpa- karandaka garden. Our old friend, the gambler of the second act, who has abjured his evil ways, and is now converted into a Sramana, or Buddhist mendicant, appears with a wet garment in his hand. He begins his soliloquy with some verses, of which the following is a slightly amplified translation : —
Hear me, ye foolish, I implore —
Make sanctity your only store ;
Be satisfied with meager fare ;
Of greed and gluttony beware ;
Shun slumber, practice lucubration, Sound the deep gong of meditation, Restrain your appetite with zeal,
Let not these thieves your merit steal ; Be ever storing it anew,
And keep eternity in view.
Live ever thus, like me, austerely, And be the home of Virtue merely. Kill your five senses, murder then Women and all immoral men : Whoever has slain these evils seven
THE CLAY CART. 295
Has saved himself, and goes to heaven. Nor think by shaven face and head
To prove your appetites are dead :
Who shears his head and not his heart Is an ascetic but in part ;
But he whose heart is closely lopped Has also head and visage cropped.
He then proceeds with his soliloquy thus : —
My tattered garment is now properly dyed of a reddish-yellow color. I will just slip into this garden belonging to the king's brother-in-law, wash my clothes in the lake, and then make off as fast as I can. —
A Voice behind stop.
Hollo there ! you wretch of a mendicant, stop,
Mendicant — Woe's me! Here is the king's brother himself coming. A poor mendicant once offended him, so now whenever he sees another like me, he slits his nose and drags him away like an ox. Where shall I take refuge ? None but the venerated Buddha can be my protector.
Samsthanaka, the king's brother-in-law, now enters the garden, and laying hold of the luckless mendicant, commences beating him. A companion of Samsthanaka, however, here interposes, and begs that the mendicant be released.
Samsthanaka then says : —
I will let him go on one condition, namely, that he removes all the mud from this pool without disturbing the water, or else collects all the clear water in a heap and then throws the mud away.
After some wrangling, and a good deal of nonsense of this sort, spoken by the king's brother, the mendicant is allowed to make off. Nevertheless, he still hangs about the precincts of the garden. In the mean time the carriage containing Vasanta- sena approaches.
Samsthanaka [to his companion] — What o'clock is it? That driver of mine, Sthavaraka, was ordered to be here sharp with the
carriage, and has not yet arrived. I
midday, and one cannot stir a step on foot; the sun is in mid sky, and can no more be looked at than an angry ape ; the ground is as parched as the face of Gandhari when her hundred sons were slain ; the birds seek shelter in the branches ; men panting with heat hide themselves from the sun's rays as well as they can in the recesses of their houses. Shall I give you a song to while away the time ? My
am dying with hunger ; it is
296 THE CLAY CART.
voice is in first-rate condition, for I keep it so with asafetida, cumin seed, cyperus,*orris root, treacle, and ginger. [Sings. ]
The driver Sthavaraka now enters with the carriage con taining Vasanta-sena.
Samsthanaka — Oh ! here is the carriage at last.
On seeing he about to jump into the vehicle, but starts back in alarm, declaring that either thief or witch inside. In the end he recognizes Vasanta-sena, and in his delight at having secured the object of his affection, kneels at her feet in the attitude of lover. She at first terrified at the mistake she has made then in her anger and scorn, spurns him with her foot. This disdainful treatment so enrages the king's brother- in-law that he resolves to kill her on the spot. He tries first to induce his companion to put her to death, but he will not listen to so scandalous proposal. Stopping his ears, he says —
What kill woman, innocent and young,
Our city's ornament! Were to perpetrate
A deed so foul, who could transport my soul Across the stream that bounds the other world
Samsthanaka —Never fear. I'll make you a raft to carry you across.
To this his companion replies, quoting with little altera
—
The heavens and all the quarters of the sky, The moon, the light-creating sun, the winds, This earth, the spirits of the dead, the god Of Justice, and the inner soul itself,
Witness man's actions, be they good or bad.
Samsthanaka — Conceal her under cloth, then, and kill her
under cover.
His associate remaining firm in his indignant refusal to have any hand in the crime, Samsthanaka next tries, first by bribes and then by threats, to force the driver Sthavaraka to do the deed for him.
Samsthanaka — Sthavaraka, my good fellow, will give you golden bracelets will place you on golden seat you shall eat all the dainties from my table you shall be chief of all my servants, — only do as bid you.
Sthavaraka — What are your commands
tion from Manu
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him. "] —
Sthavaraka Beat me or kill me,
I will not commit such a
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297 Sthavaraka — Nay, sir; forgive her, sir: her coming hither was
Samsthanaka — Kill Vasanta-sena.
I brought her here in the carriage by mistake.
my fault ;
Samsthanaka — Do as I command you. Am I not your master ? Sthavaraka — You are master of my body, but not of my
morality. Pardon me, sir, I dare not commit such a crime. Samsthanaka — Why ? What are you afraid of ? Sthavaraka — Of futurity.
Samsthanaka — Futurity ? Who is he ?
Sthavaraka — The certain issue of our good and evil deeds. Samsthanaka — Then you won't murder her? [Begins beating
crime.
Samsthanaka's companion now interferes and says : —
Sthavaraka says well : he, now a slave,
Is poor and lowly in condition, but
Hopes for reward hereafter ; not so those — Who prosper in their wicked actions here, Destruction waits them in another sphere. Unequal fortune makes you here the lord
And him the slave, but there 't may be inverted, He to a lord and you to slave converted.
Samsthanaka — What a pair of cowards ! One of them is afraid of Injustice and the other of Futurity. Well, I'm a king's brother- in-law, and fear no one. Be off out of my way, you son of a slave.
The slave Sthavaraka then retreats. The king's brother, by pretending that the proposal to kill Vasanta-sena was only a joke, and by putting on a show of great affection for her, rids himself next of his companion, who would otherwise have defended her. He then strangles Vasanta-sena. Soon after wards his companion and the driver of the carriage, unable to repress their fears for her safety, return and find her apparently dead. The king's brother-in-law horrifies them by confessing that he has murdered her. After much angry altercation they leave him. He then covers up the body with some leaves, and resolves to go before a judge and accuse Caru-datta of having murdered Vasanta-sena for the sake of her costly ornaments. Meanwhile the Buddhist mendicant, having washed his gar ments, returns into the garden and finds the body under a heap of leaves. He sprinkles water on the face, and Vasanta-sena
298 THE CLAY CART.
revives. He is delighted to have the power of making some return to his benefactress, who formerly delivered him from the rapacity of the gaming-house keeper. He therefore does all he can to restore animation, and having at last succeeded, places her in a neighboring convent to recover.
The ninth act opens with a scene in a court of justice. The judge before taking his seat soliloquizes thus : —
How difficult our task ! to search the heart, To sift false charges, and elicit truth !
A judge must be well read in books of law, Well skilled in tracking crime, able to speak With eloquence, not easily made angry, Holding the scales impartially between Friends, kindred, and opponents ; a protector Of weak and feeble men, a punisher
Of knaves ; not covetous, having a heart
Intent on truth and justice ; not pronouncing Judgment in any case until the facts
Are duly weighed, then shielding the condemned From the king's wrath, and loving clemency.
Samsthanaka, the king's brother, now enters in a sumptu ous dress and makes his accusation against Caru-datta of hav ing murdered Vasanta-sena. It is proved that Vasanta-sena was last seen at Caru-datta's house. It is also discovered that some portions of her hair and the marks of her feet remain in the Pushpa-karandaka garden, which leads to the conclusion that her body may have been carried off by beasts of prey. Caru-datta is therefore summoned, and as he enters the court says to himself : —
The courthouse looks imposing ; it is like
A sea whose waters are the advocates
Deep in sagacious thought, whose waves are messengers In constant movement hurrying to and fro,
Whose fish and screaming birds are vile informers, Whose serpents are attorneys' clerks, whose banks
Are worn by constant course of legal action.
The king's brother now repeats his accusation ; but the judge is not inclined to believe in the guilt of Caru-datta, who indeed makes his innocence clear to the whole court. Unhap pily, however, just at this moment his friend Maitreya, who by
THE CLAY CART.
299
Caru-datta's request is seeking for Vasanta-sena, that he may restore to her the jewels she had placed in his little son's clay cart, hears on his road of the accusation brought against his friend, hurries into the court of justice, and is so enraged with the king's brother for accusing his friend that he strikes him, and in the struggle which ensues lets fall Vasanta-sena's jewels. It is admitted that these ornaments are being brought from Caru-datta's house, and this is thought to be conclusive evi dence of his guilt. As a Brahman he cannot legally be put to death ; but the king is a tyrant, and although the judge recommends banishment as the proper punishment under the circumstances, the king pronounces his sentence thus : —
Let Vasanta-sena's ornaments be hung round Caru-datta's neck ; let him be led by the beat of drums to the southern cemetery, bear ing his own stake, and there let him be put to death [crucified].
The tenth act introduces the road leading to the place of execution. Caru-datta enters bearing the stake, and attended by two Candalas or low outcasts, who are sent to act as execu tioners.
One of the executioners calls out: —
Out of the way ! out of the way I Make room for Caru-datta. Crowned with a garland of oleander flowers, and attended by execu tioners, he approaches his end like a lamp which has little oil left. Now then, halt! beat the drum! Hark ye, good people all! stop and listen to the proclamation of the sentence : " This is Caru-datta, son of Sagara-datta, who strangled Vasanta-sena in the Pushpa- karandaka garden for the sake of her ornaments, and was caught with the stolen property in his possession ; we have orders to put him to death, that others may be deterred from committing a crime which both worlds forbid to be perpetrated. "
Carvrdata —
Alas ! alas I
Even my friends and intimate compeers Pass coldly by, their faces turned aside Or hidden in their vestments ; thus it is That in prosperity our enemies
Appear like friends, but in adversity
Those we thought friends behave like very foes.
The proclamation is repeated at intervals on the road to the place of execution, and some delay is thus occasioned. Mean
300 THE CLAY CART.
while an affecting scene takes place. Caru-datta's little son is brought by Maitreya to bid his father farewell, and the exe cutioner permits him to approach. The boy can only say, " Father ! Father ! " [and after being embraced by Caru-datta, turns to the executioner, berates him, and asks to be killed in stead of his father. The executioner says, " Rather for such a speech live long, my boy. " Caru-datta bursts into tears and embraces him again, exclaiming over the wealth of having such a child. ]
The child is of course removed, but another delay is caused by Sthavaraka, who drove Vasanta-sena to the garden, and who, as cognizant of the real facts, had been shut up by his guilty master, the king's brother-in-law. Sthavaraka, on hear ing the noise of the procession on its way to the place of execu tion, contrives to escape from his prison, and, rushing towards the executioners, proclaims Caru-datta's innocence and his master's guilt. Unhappily, however, just at this juncture his master appears on the scene, and declares that his servant Sthavaraka, having been imprisoned for thieving, is unworthy of credit, and has made up this accusation out of spite and desire for revenge. Notwithstanding, therefore, the servant's repeated asseverations, his statements are disbelieved, and his efforts to save Caru-datta prove ineffectual. The procession and crowd now move on to the cemetery, and Caru-datta's condition seems altogether hopeless, when just as he is led to the stake, and the executioners are about to perform their office,
the Buddhist mendicant is seen forcing his way through the
crowd, leading a woman, who cries out, " Hold ! hold !
the miserable creature for whose sake you are putting him to death. " This, to the astonishment of every one, proves to be Vasanta-sena herself, resuscitated and restored to health, through the instrumentality of the mendicant. The execu tioners immediately release Caru-datta ; and as the king's brother-in-law, in utter confusion and terror, is observed to be making off, they attempt to seize him. He appears likely to be torn to pieces by the infuriated crowd ; but here Caru-datta
gives a crowning evidence of the generosity of his character, by protecting the villain who had come to feast his eyes on the dying agonies of his victim. He is actually, at Caru-datta's intercession, permitted to make his escape. The play ends in the elevation of Caru-datta to rank and honor, in the happiness of both hero and heroine, and in the promotion of the mendicant to the headship of all the Viharas or Buddhist monasteries.
I am
THE LOST RING. 301
THE LOST RING. By KALTDASA.
(Translated by Sir William Jones. )
[Kalidasa, the greatest poet and playwright of India, is of uncertain date. He has been placed before Christ and at a. d. 150, but probably belongs in the sixth century. His chief works are "Sakuntala" (French form, adopted by Sir William Jones, "Sacontala"), "Meghaduta" (or "The Cloud Messenger"), and " Vikramurvasi. "]
Scene. — A lawn before the cottage.
Anuf&yd — O my Priyamvada, though our sweet friend has been happily married, according to the rites of Gandharvas, to a bridegroom equal in rank and accomplishments, yet my af fectionate heart is not wholly free from care ; and one doubt gives me particular uneasiness.
Anuftiyd — This morning the pious prince was dismissed with gratitude by our hermits, who had then completed their mystic rites: he is now gone to his capital, Hastinapura, where, surrounded by a hundred women in the recesses of his palace, it may be doubted whether he will remember his charming bride.
Priyamvadd — What doubt, my Anuf uya ?
Priyamvadd —In that respect you may be quite easy. Men so well informed and well educated as he, can never be utterly destitute of honor. We have another thing to con sider. When our father Canna shall return from his pilgrim age, and shall hear what has passed, I cannot tell how he may receive the intelligence.
Anuftiyd — If you ask my opinion, he will, I think, approve of the marriage. —
Priyamvadd Why do you think so ?
Anuftiyd — Because he could desire nothing better than that a husband so accomplished and so exalted should take Sacontala by the hand. It was, you know, the declared object of his heart, that she might be suitably married ; and, since heaven has done for him what he most wished to do, how can he possibly be dissatisfied ?
Priyamvadd —You reason well ; but [looking at her basket], my friend, we have plucked a sufficient store of flowers to scatter over the place of sacrifice.
302 THE L08T RENO.
Anuftiyd — Let us gather more to decorate the temples of the goddesses who have procured for Sacontala so much good fortune. [ They both gather more flowers.
[Behind the scenes] — It is I — Hola !
Anufuyd [listening] — I hear the voice, as it seems, of a
guest arrived in the hermitage.
Priyamvadd — Let us hasten thither. Sacontala is now
reposing ; but though we may, when she wakes, enjoy her presence, yet her mind will all day be absent with her departed
thou art meditating, on whom alone thy heart is now fixed, while thou neglectest a pure gem of devotion who demands hospitality, shall forget thee, when thou seest him next, as a man restored to sobriety forgets the words which he uttered in a state of intoxication. "
[Both damsels look at each other with affliction. Priyamvadd — Woe is me ! Dreadful calamity ! Our be
loved friend has, through mere absence of mind, provoked, by her neglect, some holy man who expected reverence.
lord. — Anuf&yd
Be it so ; but we have occasion, you know, for all these flowers. — [They advance. [Again behind the scenes] How ! dost thou show no atten tion to a guest ? Then hear my imprecations. " He on whom
Anuf&yd [looking] — It must be so ; for the choleric Dur- vasas is going hastily back.
Priyamvadd — Who else has power to consume, like raging fire, whatever offends him ? Go, my Anufuya ; fall at his feet, and persuade him, if possible, to return : in the meantime I will prepare water and refreshments for him.
Anufuyd — I go with eagerness. [She goes out.
Priyamvadd [advancing hastily, her foot slips] — Ah ! through my eager haste I have let the basket fall ; and my
religious duties must not be postponed.
[She gathers fresh flowers.
ANTJFUYA reenters.
Anufiiyd — His wrath, my beloved, passes all bounds. Who living could now appease him by the humblest prostra tions or entreaties ? yet at last he a little relented.
Priyamvadd — That little is a great deal for him. But in form me how you soothed him in any degree.
THE LOST RING. 303
AnufHyd — When he positively refused to come back, I threw myself at his feet, and thus addressed him, " Holy sage, forgive, I entreat, the offense of an amiable girl, who has the highest veneration for you, but was ignorant, through distrac tion of mind, how exalted a personage was calling to her. "
Anuf&yd — He answered thus, " My word must not be recalled ; but the spell which it has raised shall be wholly removed when her lord shall see his ring. " Saying this he disappeared.