A Mine of Faults. Bain Francis William
can do: nor can she do anything whatever, which a man cannot do far better than herself. And linked to a man, what is she, but a load, and as it were, a fetter or a chain to him, and like a very heavy burden tied to the leg of one running in a race? And therefore, I see no use in her at all, but very much the contrary. For in addition to her incapacity, she is as it were endowed by the Creator with a multitude of positive defects: for she is everlastingly shedding tears, and scolding, and what is utterly intolerable, never stops talking about absolutely nothing, so that the mere presence of a woman is a curse. Moreover, she is as fickle and inconstant and capricious as the wind, and less to be trusted than a cobra; and over and over again, women have deceived and betrayed even their own husbands, both in love and war. But the very worst of all is, that they love a man less, in exact proportion to his worth, preferring almost anyone, no matter what he be, who flatters and courts and overvalues them, to even a hero who does not, abandoning, like flies, everything, to flock to that honey which alone attracts them, and demanding the sacrifice of everything noble to their craving appetite for frivolity and sweets. Therefore for my part I will live, never having anything whatever to do with any one of them: nor shall any jackal of you all persuade me to put off the natural colour I was born with, and by plunging into the vat of matrimony, come out dyed all over an intolerable blue.9
And hearing him speak, his ministers looked at one another, laughing in their sleeves. And they said to one another, behind his back: How well does this young lion roar, repeating by rote, as if he were a parrot, exactly what the old one taught him! For what, forsooth! does he know of woman, who has hardly been allowed to see were it even so much as her shadow? Truly, he resembles a young black bee, kept in ignorance of flowers and their honey, and taught to call it poison, conceitedly lecturing older bees, his brothers, about what he does not understand. But we shall see, whether, in due time, we shall not have the laugh on our side. And in the meanwhile, always provided he is not killed like his father, beforehand, his error is, at any rate, an error on the better side. For many a young king-bee, in his position, would long ago have rushed into the opposite extreme, rifling every lotus within his reach, till he died of intoxication and exhaustion and excess. But as for him, lucky will that lotus be, that first succeeds in opening his eyes to what a lotus really is: for he will give her, not the dregs of his satiety, but real devotion springing from an uncontaminated well, pure and delicious, of which no one has ever been allowed to drink before. And in the meantime, we will wait, in expectation of the change, which is certain to arrive.
So they waited: but time went on, and Chand still continued as before, thinking only of battle, and observing the brahmachari10 vow, just as if there were no such thing as a woman in the world.
Then said Párwatí softly to her lord: Sure I am, that the god of the flowery bow11 would have punished him severely for his presumption, had he only heard him so outrageously vituperating his sworn allies and darling weapons as thou sayest.
And Maheshwara said: O Daughter of the Snow, he was punished, sufficiently, as thou wilt learn in due time. For few indeed are the young men or women that the Bodiless god overlooks, seeing that of all of us, he is by far the most jealous in exacting homage to his divinity, as if he doubted it himself, and greedy of extorting from everyone acknowledgment, like a woman uncertain of the affection of her lover, insatiably craving to hear its avowal, over and over again, from his lips. And yet, perhaps the greatest punishment of all would have been, to leave him alone: since of all my creatures, those are most to be pitied, whom love utterly neglects, leaving them as it were in a night to which there never comes a dawn. And who knows this better than thyself, by reason of thy own extraordinary torture,12 before I had to burn Love's body for his own presumption, with fire from my eye. But now, hush! and lie still, and listen to the remainder of the tale.
Now in the meantime, all this while King Mitra continued, living in his capital among the hills, just as if King Chand had never been born, with a soul that was divided, as it were, with exact precision, between his dead wife and his living daughter, who resembled one another like the two Twilights,13 so closely, that he could not look at his daughter, without thinking of his wife, nor call his wife back to his recollection without bringing his daughter with her, like a shadow of herself. And between them his soul hovered, going backwards and forwards, till he was hardly able to discern, of the present and the past, which was the reality, and which only a dream. And so as he continued, one day there came to see him in his palace his prime minister, Yogeshwara. Now this minister was well named, being very old and very crafty, and in spite of the King's inattention, he had borne the kingdom on his own shoulders all his life, preserving it intact. For his wisdom resembled his white head, and there was not a black hair in the one, nor a weak spot in the other: since both had reached the perfect state of being without a flaw.
So when he entered, he said slowly to the King: O Maháráj, certainly thy kingdom hangs over the very brink or ruin. And then, the old King looked at him with a smile. And he said: O Yogeshwara, I know of nothing in the world that could utterly destroy this kingdom, except thy own death. For then, indeed, it would be not merely on the brink, but lost and already lying at the very bottom of the abyss. But as it is, I see thee there before me, in vigour and health. How, then, can any ruin be impending? And Yogeshwara said: O King, here is Chand, the son of Chand, the very image of his father, for he has all his father's warlike ability, with youth and its energy superadded, about to fall upon thy kingdom like a thunderstorm. And during his father's lifetime, though my hair turned white, as if with terror, and my ear-root wrinkled, as if with anxiety, nevertheless I managed, somehow or other, by the aid of thy royal fortune and the Lord of Obstacles, to turn his attack always upon others, and keep him busy at a distance from our territory. But now, all other kings being subdued, this young Chand, burning to outdo his father, has determined to fall at last on thee, being as it were ravenous for still more earth,14 in the form of these thy hills. And he has sent a message, saying: That unless King Mitra will instantly make submission and pay tribute, he will hear the tread of King Chand's armies coming up towards the hills15 like the roar of the rains in the burst of their flood. Nor is there any hope that he can be resisted by force, for he and his armies will sweep away ours, like a wind scattering a heap of leaves.
So when he had spoken, the old King looked at him again, smiling exactly as before. And he said: O Yogeshwara, certainly this cloud seems to threaten a devastating storm. And yet, I am ready to stake my whole kingdom, that thou hast already devised a means of averting the catastrophe: nay, of even turning it to our advantage, so that this Chand-cloud, instead of sweeping away all our crops in ruin, will on the contrary water all our fields for another harvest.
Then said Yogeshwara: Maháráj, something indeed I have meditated. And yet, all search would have been vain, and all deliberation idle, had I not, by the special favour of the Elephant-faced deity, discovered a diplomatist far abler than myself. And the old King laughed; and he exclaimed: Ha! that is news indeed! O Yogeshwara, tell me quickly, whether this wonder of diplomacy is young. For the time must come, though long may it be coming, when, like every other man, thou too wilt have to change thy birth for another: and then I shall require him to replace thee. And little did I dream, that my kingdom contained within it another such as thou art. Truly, I am curious to see him. Then said Yogeshwara: Say rather, her: and often hast thou seen her, for it is no other than thy own daughter.
And as the King started, Yogeshwara said again: O King, there are circumstances, in which sex makes all the difference between wisdom and folly: and cases, in which a woman, just because she is a woman, will make a more invincible negotiator than all the ministers, from Dhritaráshtra16 down, that ever lived. And this is such a case, and all the more, because the woman is such a woman as thy daughter, whom I think that the Creator must have framed, with an eye to this very situation. And now, then, I will tell thee, that I foresaw this from the first, and I kept it as it were stored in reserve as a resource in the hour of exigency, to be, if the Lord of Obstacles were only favourable, the triumph of my policy and its crown, and the copingstone of my career.
This refers to a story in the
Dusk and Dawn.
The special duty of a king, according to the old Hindoo sages, is to hunger and thirst after earth, like Ovid's Eresichthon.
The monsoon which travels N.E.
One of the heroes in the Mahabhárata.