Story of the king and the barber’s wife
This king Dṛiḍhavarman had an immoral father. And I was then his servant, being engaged in the duties which belong to me. He, one day, as he was roaming about here, cast eyes on my wife; and as she was young and beautiful, his mind became attached to her. And when he asked his attendants who she was, they said—“The barber’s wife.” He thought—“What can the barber do?” So the wicked king entered my house, and after enjoying at will the society of my wife, departed. But, as it happened, I was away from my house that day, being absent somewhere or other. And the next day, when I entered, I saw that my wife’s manner had altered, and when I asked her the reason, she told me the whole story, being full of pride at what had occurred. And in that way the king went on puffing up my wife by continual visits, which I was powerless to prevent. A prince distracted by unholy passion makes no distinction between what is lawful and what is illicit. The forest is like straw to a sylvan fire fanned by the wind. So, not being in possession of any other expedient for restraining my sovereign, I reduced myself with spare diet, and took refuge in feigned sickness. And in this state I went into the presence of that king to perform my duties, sighing deeply, pale and emaciated. Then the king, seeing that I seemed to be ill, asked me meaningly the following question—“Holla! tell me why you have become thus?” And after he had questioned me persistently, I answered the king in private, after imploring immunity from punishment—“King, my wife is a witch. And when I am asleep she extracts my entrails and sucks them, and then replaces them as before—This is how I have become lean. So how can continual refreshment and eating nourish me?” When I said this to the king, he became anxious and reflected—“Can she really be a witch? Why was I captivated by her? I wonder whether she will suck my entrails also, since I am well nourished with food. So I will myself contrive to test her this very night.” Having thus reflected, the king caused food to be given me on the spot. Then I went home and shed tears in the presence of my wife, and when she questioned me, I said to her—“My beloved, you must not reveal to any one what I am about to tell you. Listen! That king has teeth as sharp as the edge of a thunderbolt, where teeth are not usually found, and they broke my razor to-day while I was performing my duties. And in this way I shall break a razor every time. So how am I to be continually procuring fresh razors? This is why I weep, for the means of supporting myself in my home are destroyed.” When I had said this to my wife, she made up her mind to investigate the marvel of the concealed teeth while the king was asleep, since he was to visit her at night. But she did not perceive that such a thing had never been seen since the world was, and could not be true. Even clever women are deceived by the tales of an impostor.
So the king came at night and visited my wife at will, and as if fatigued, pretended to go to sleep, remembering what I had said. Then my wife, thinking he was asleep, slowly stretched out her hand to find his concealed teeth. And as soon as her hand reached him, the king exclaimed—“A witch! A witch!” and left the house in terror. Henceforth my wife, having been abandoned by the king out of fear, became satisfied with me and devoted to me exclusively. In this way I saved my wife on a former occasion from the king by my intelligence.
Having told this story to the female ascetic, the barber went on to say—“So, my good lady, this desire of yours must be accomplished by wisdom; and I will tell you, mother, how it is to be done, listen to me. Some old servant of the harem must be won over to say to this king in secret every day, ‘Your wife Kadalígarbhá is a witch.’ For she, being a forest maiden, has no attendants of her own, and what will not all alien servants do for gain, being easily corrupted? Accordingly, when the king becomes apprehensive on hearing what the old servant says, you must contrive to place at night hands and feet and other limbs in the chamber of Kadalígarbhá.[5] Then the king will see them in the morning, and concluding that what the old man says is true, will be afraid of Kadalígarbhá and desert her of his own accord. So the queen will be delighted at getting rid of a rival wife, and entertain a favourable opinion of you, and we shall gain some advantage.” When the barber said this to the female ascetic, she consented and went and told the whole matter to the king’s head queen. And the queen carried out her suggestions, and the king, who had been warned, saw the hands and feet in the morning with his own eyes, and abandoned Kadalígarbhá, thinking her to be wicked. So the female ascetic, together with the barber, enjoyed to the full the presents which the queen secretly gave to her, being pleased with her aid.
So Kadalígarbhá, being abandoned by Dṛiḍhavarman, went out from the palace, grieved because the king would be cursed. And she returned to the hermitage of her father by the same path by which she came, which she was able to recognise by the mustard-seeds she had sown, which had sprung up.[6] Her father, the hermit Mankaṇaka, when he saw her suddenly arrived there, remained for some time suspecting immorality on her part. And then he perceived the whole occurrence by the power of contemplation, and after lovingly comforting her, departed thence with her. And he went and told the king, who bowed before him, the whole treacherous drama, which the head queen had got up out of hatred for her rival. At that moment the barber himself arrived, and related the whole occurrence to the king, and then proceeded to say this to him; “In this way, my sovereign, I sent away the lady Kadalígarbhá, and so delivered her from the danger of the incantations which would have been practised against her, since I satisfied the head queen by an artifice.” When the king heard that, he saw that the speech of the great hermit was certainly true, and he took back Kadalígarbhá, recovering his confidence in her. And after respectfully accompanying the departing hermit, he rewarded the barber with wealth, thinking that he was attached to his person: kings are the appointed prey of rogues. Then the king, being averse to the society of his queen, lived in great comfort with Kadalígarbhá.
“Many false accusations of this kind do rival wives bring, O Kalingasená of irreproachable beauty. And you are a maiden, the auspicious moment of whose marriage is fixed at a distant date, and even the gods, whose goings transcend our thought, are in love with you. So do you yourself preserve yourself now, as the one jewel of the world, dedicated to the king of Vatsa only, from all assaults, for your own excellence brings you enmity. I indeed, my friend, shall never return to you, since you are now established in the palace of your husband: good women do not visit the house of a friend’s husband, O fair one! besides I have been forbidden by my own lord. And it is not possible for me to come here secretly, induced by my affection for you, inasmuch as my husband possesses divine insight and would find it out; with difficulty in truth did I obtain his permission to come here to-day. And since I can be of no use to you now, my friend, I will return home, but if my husband should give me permission, I will come here again, disregarding modesty.” Thus Somaprabhá, the daughter of the Asura king, spake weeping to Kalingasená, the daughter of the mortal king, whose face also was washed with tears, and after embracing her, departed swiftly to her own palace, as the day was passing away.
[1] Takshaśilá has been identified by General Cunningham with the ruins of an ancient city near Shah-deri one mile to the north-east of Kála-ka-serai. Mr. Growse has pointed out to me that I made a mistake in stating (after Wilson) in a note on p. [5] of this translation, that the precise site of Kauśámbí, the capital of the king of Vatsa, which Kalingasená reached in one day in the magic chariot, has not been ascertained. He says: “It has been discovered by General Cunningham. The place is still called Kosam, and is on the Yamuná, about 30 miles above Allahabad. The ruins consist of an immense fortress, with earthen ramparts from 30 to 35 feet high, and bastions considerably higher, forming a circuit of 23,100 feet, or exactly four miles and 3 furlongs. The parapets were of brick and stone, some of the bricks measuring 19 in. × 12½ × 2½, which is a proof of their great antiquity. In the midst of these ruins is a large stone monolith, similar to those at Allahabad and Delhi, but without any inscription. The portion of the shaft above ground is 14 feet in length, and an excavation made at the base for a depth of 20 feet did not come to the end of it. Its total length probably exceeds 40 feet. There was, I believe, some talk of removing it to Allahabad and setting it up there, but it was found to be too expensive an undertaking.” Śrávastí, which Kalingasená passed on the way from Takshaśilá, has been identified by General Cunningham with Sáhet-Mahet on the south bank of the Rapti in Oudh.
[2] Here there is a slight omission in my translation. Cp. the story of St. Macarius.
[3] The country lying between the Himálayas on the north, the Vindhya mountains on the south, Vinaśana on the west and Prayága (Allahabad) on the east.
[4] A respectful offering to gods or venerable men of rice, dúrva-grass, flowers &c. with water.
[5] Cp. for the artifice used to ruin Kadalígarbhá, Dusent’s Norse Tales, pp. 65 and 66.
[6] Cp. the 40th story in Grimm’s Kinder- und Hausmärchen, where the girl finds her way by the peas and lentiles which had sprung up. See also the 2nd story in Gonzenbach’s Sicilianische Märchen, where the girl scatters bran. The author of the notes to Grimm’s Märchen mentions a story from Hesse in which the heroine scatters ashes. See also the 49th of the Sicilianische Märchen. See also Bartsch’s Sagen, Märchen, und Gebräuche aus Meklenburg, Vol. I, pp. 265, 313, 441–444, and 447, where peas are used for the same purpose. See also De Gubernatis, Zoological Mythology, p. 165. See also Perrault’s Le petit Poucet; Basile’s Pentamerone, No. 48.