Story of the cunning Siddhikarí.
Long ago a certain merchant came here from the north; while he was dwelling here, my pupil went and obtained, with a treacherous object, the position of a serving-maid in his house, having first altered her appearance, and after she had gained the confidence of that merchant, she stole all his hoard of gold from his house, and went off secretly in the morning twilight. And as she went out from the city moving rapidly through fear, a certain Ḍomba[6] with his drum in his hand, saw her, and pursued her at full speed with the intention of robbing her. When she had reached the foot of a Nyagrodha tree, she saw that he had come up with her, and so the cunning Siddhikarí said this to him in a plaintive manner, “I have had a jealous quarrel with my husband, and I have left his house to die, therefore my good man, make a noose for me to hang myself with.” Then the Ḍomba thought, “Let her hang herself, why should I be guilty of her death, especially as she is a woman,” and so he fastened a noose for her to the tree. Then Siddhikarí, feigning ignorance, said to the Ḍomba, “How is the noose slipped round the neck? shew me, I entreat you.” Then the Ḍomba placed the drum under his feet, and saying,—“This is the way we do the trick”—he fastened the noose round his own throat; Siddhikarí for her part smashed the drum to atoms with a kick, and that Ḍomba hung till he was dead.[7] At that moment the merchant arrived in search of her, and beheld from a distance Siddhikarí, who had stolen from him untold treasures, at the foot of the tree. She too saw him coming, and climbed up the tree without being noticed, and remained there on a bough, having her body concealed by the dense foliage. When the merchant came up with his servants, he saw the Ḍomba hanging by his neck, but Siddhikarí was nowhere to be seen. Immediately one of his servants said “I wonder whether she has got up this tree,” and proceeded to ascend it himself. Then Siddhikarí said—“I have always loved you, and now you have climbed up where I am, so all this wealth is at your disposal, handsome man, come and embrace me.” So she embraced the merchant’s servant, and as she was kissing his mouth, she bit off the fool’s tongue. He, overcome with the pain, fell from that tree, spitting blood from his mouth, uttering some indistinct syllables, which sounded like Lalalla. When he saw that, the merchant was terrified, and supposing that his servant had been seized by a demon, he fled from that place, and went to his own house with his attendants. Then Siddhikarí the female ascetic, equally frightened, descended from the top of the tree, and brought home with her all that wealth. Such a person is my pupil, distinguished for her great discernment, and it is in this way, my sons, that I have obtained wealth by her kindness.
When she had said this to the young merchants, the female ascetic shewed to them her pupil who happened to come in at that moment; and said to them, “Now, my sons, tell me the real state of affairs—what woman do you desire? I will quickly procure her for you.” When they heard that they said, “procure us an interview with the wife of the merchant Guhasena named Devasmitá.” When she heard that, the ascetic undertook to manage that business for them, and she gave those young merchants her own house to reside in. Then she gratified the servants at Guhasena’s house with gifts of sweetmeats and other things, and afterwards entered it with her pupil. Then, as she approached the private rooms of Devasmitá, a bitch, that was fastened there with a chain, would not let her come near, but opposed her entrance in the most determined way. Then Devasmitá seeing her, of her own accord sent a maid, and had her brought in, thinking to herself, “What can this person be come for?” After she had entered, the wicked ascetic gave Devasmitá her blessing, and, treating the virtuous woman with affected respect, said to her—“I have always had a desire to see you, but to-day I saw you in a dream, therefore I have come to visit you with impatient eagerness; and my mind is afflicted at beholding you separated from your husband, for beauty and youth are wasted when one is deprived of the society of one’s beloved.” With this and many other speeches of the same kind she tried to gain the confidence of the virtuous woman in a short interview, and then taking leave of her she returned to her own house. On the second day she took with her a piece of meat full of pepper dust, and went again to the house of Devasmitá, and there she gave that piece of meat to the bitch at the door, and the bitch gobbled it up, pepper and all. Then owing to the pepper dust, the tears flowed in profusion from the animal’s eyes, and her nose began to run. And the cunning ascetic immediately went into the apartment of Devasmitá, who received her hospitably, and began to cry. When Devasmitá asked her why she shed tears, she said with affected reluctance: “My friend, look at this bitch weeping outside here. This creature recognized me to-day as having been its companion in a former birth, and began to weep; for that reason my tears gushed through pity.” When she heard that, and saw that bitch outside apparently weeping, Devasmitá thought for a moment to herself, “What can be the meaning of this wonderful sight?” Then the ascetic said to her, “My daughter, in a former birth, I and that bitch were the two wives of a certain Bráhman. And our husband frequently went about to other countries on embassies by order of the king. Now while he was away from home, I lived with other men at my pleasure, and so did not cheat the elements, of which I was composed, and my senses, of their lawful enjoyment. For considerate treatment of the elements and senses is held to be the highest duty. Therefore I have been born in this birth with a recollection of my former existence. But she, in her former life, through ignorance, confined all her attention to the preservation of her character, therefore she has been degraded and born again as one of the canine race, however, she too remembers her former birth.” The wise Devasmitá said to herself, “This is a novel conception of duty; no doubt this woman has laid a treacherous snare for me”; and so she said to her, “Reverend lady, for this long time I have been ignorant of this duty, so procure me an interview with some charming man.”—Then the ascetic said—“There are residing here some young merchants that have come from another country, so I will bring them to you.” When she had said this, the ascetic returned home delighted, and Devasmitá of her own accord said to her maids: “No doubt those scoundrelly young merchants, whoever they may be, have seen that unfading lotus in the hand of my husband, and have on some occasion or other, when he was drinking wine, asked him out of curiosity to tell the whole story of it, and have now come here from that island to seduce me, and this wicked ascetic is employed by them. So bring quickly some wine mixed with Datura,[8] and when you have brought it, have a dog’s foot of iron made as quickly as possible.” When Devasmitá had given these orders, the maids executed them faithfully, and one of the maids, by her orders, dressed herself up to resemble her mistress. The ascetic for her part chose out of the party of four merchants, (each of whom in his eagerness said—“let me go first”—) one individual, and brought him with her. And concealing him in the dress of her pupil, she introduced him in the evening into the house of Devasmitá, and coming out, disappeared. Then that maid, who was disguised as Devasmitá, courteously persuaded the young merchant to drink some of that wine drugged with Datura. That liquor,[9] like his own immodesty, robbed him of his senses, and then the maids took away his clothes and other equipments and left him stark naked; then they branded him on the forehead with the mark of a dog’s foot, and during the night took him and pushed him into a ditch full of filth. Then he recovered consciousness in the last watch of the night, and found himself plunged in a ditch, as it were the hell Avíchi assigned to him by his sins. Then he got up and washed himself and went to the house of the female ascetic, in a state of nature, feeling with his fingers the mark on his forehead. And when he got there, he told his friends that he had been robbed on the way, in order that he might not be the only person made ridiculous. And the next morning he sat with a cloth wrapped round his branded forehead, giving as an excuse that he had a headache from keeping awake so long, and drinking too much. In the same way the next young merchant was maltreated, when he got to the house of Devasmitá, and when he returned home naked, he said, “I put on my ornaments there, and as I was coming out I was plundered by robbers.” In the morning he also, on the plea of a headache, put a wrapper on to cover his branded forehead.
In the same way all the four young merchants suffered in turns branding and other humiliating treatment, though they concealed the fact. And they went away from the place, without revealing to the female Buddhist ascetic the ill-treatment they had experienced, hoping that she would suffer in a similar way. On the next day the ascetic went with her disciple to the house of Devasmitá, much delighted at having accomplished what she undertook to do. Then Devasmitá received her courteously, and made her drink wine drugged with Datura, offered as a sign of gratitude. When she and her disciple were intoxicated with it, that chaste wife cut off their ears and noses, and flung them also into a filthy pool. And being distressed by the thought that perhaps these young merchants might go and slay her husband, she told the whole circumstance to her mother-in-law. Then her mother-in-law said to her,—“My daughter, you have acted nobly, but possibly some misfortune may happen to my son in consequence of what you have done.” Then Devasmitá said—I will deliver him even as Śaktimatí in old time delivered her husband by her wisdom. Her mother-in-law asked; “How did Śaktimatí deliver her husband? tell me, my daughter.” Then Devasmitá related the following story:
Story of Śaktimatí.
In our country, within the city, there is the shrine of a powerful Yaksha named Maṇibhadra, established by our ancestors. The people there come and make petitions at this shrine, offering various gifts, in order to obtain various blessings. Whenever a man is found at night with another man’s wife, he is placed with her within the inner chamber of the Yaksha’s temple. And in the morning he is taken away from thence with the woman to the king’s court, and his behaviour being made known, he is punished; such is the custom. Once on a time in that city a merchant, of the name of Samudradatta, was found by a city-guard in the company of another man’s wife. So he took him and placed him with the woman in that temple of the Yaksha, fastening the door firmly. And immediately the wise and devoted wife of that merchant, whose name was Śaktimatí, came to hear of the occurrence; then that resolute woman, disguising herself, went confidently at night to the temple of the Yaksha, accompanied by her friends, taking with her offerings for the god. When she arrived there, the priest whose business it was to eat the offerings, through desire for a fee, opened the door and let her enter, informing the magistrate of what he had done. And she, when she got inside, saw her husband looking sheepish, with a woman, and she made the woman put on her own dress, and told her to go out. So that woman went out in her dress by night, and got off, but Śaktimatí remained in the temple with her husband. And when the king’s officers came in the morning to examine the merchant, he was seen by all to be in the company of his own wife.[10] When he heard that, the king dismissed the merchant from the temple of the Yaksha, as it were from the mouth of death, and punished the chief magistrate. So Śaktimatí in old time delivered her husband by her wisdom, and in the same way I will go and save my husband by my discretion.
So the wise Devasmitá said in secret to her mother-in-law, and, in company with her maids, she put on the dress of a merchant. Then she embarked on a ship, on the pretence of a mercantile expedition, and came to the country of Kaṭáha where her husband was. And when she arrived there, she saw that husband of hers, Guhasena, in the midst of a circle of merchants, like consolation in external bodily form. He seeing her afar off in the dress of a man,[11] as it were, drank her in with his eyes, and thought to himself, “Who may this merchant be that looks so like my beloved wife”? So Devasmitá went and represented to the king that she had a petition to make, and asked him to assemble all his subjects. Then the king full of curiosity assembled all the citizens, and said to that lady disguised as a merchant, “What is your petition?” Then Devasmitá said—There are residing here in your midst four slaves of mine who have escaped, let the king make them over to me. Then the king said to her, “All the citizens are present here, so look at every one in order to recognise him, and take those slaves of yours.” Then she seized upon the four young merchants, whom she had before treated in such a humiliating way in her house, and who had wrappers bound round their heads. Then the merchants, who were there, flew in a passion, and said to her, “These are the sons of distinguished merchants, how then can they be your slaves?” Then she answered them, “If you do not believe what I say, examine their foreheads which I marked with a dog’s foot.” They consented, and removing the head-wrappers of these four, they all beheld the dog’s foot on their foreheads. Then all the merchants were abashed, and the king, being astonished, himself asked Devasmitá what all this meant. She told the whole story, and all the people burst out laughing, and the king said to the lady,—“They are your slaves by the best of titles.” Then the other merchants paid a large sum of money to that chaste wife, to redeem those four from slavery, and a fine to the king’s treasury. Devasmitá received that money, and recovered her husband, and being honoured by all good men, returned then to her own city Támraliptá, and she was never afterwards separated from her beloved.
“Thus, O queen, women of good family ever worship their husbands with chaste and resolute behaviour,[12] and never think of any other man, for to virtuous wives the husband is the highest deity.” When Vásavadattá on the journey heard this noble story from the mouth of Vasantaka, she got over the feeling of shame at having recently left her father’s house, and her mind, which was previously attached by strong affection to her husband, became so fixed upon him as to be entirely devoted to his service.