A Mine of Faults

by F. W. Bain

*****

And he said: There lived of old, in the northern quarter, two kings, who were neighbours, and hereditary enemies; and one was of the race of the Moon, and the other of the Sun; and one was king of the hill country, and the other, king of the plains. And the name of the one was Mitra, and that of the other, Chand.[[4]] And as fate would have it, King Mitra was a man of peace, and a lover of songs and pictures, and poetry, and ease. And he married a beautiful wife, whom he loved better than his own soul, and lived with her deliciously until at last she died, leaving him with a broken heart and nothing to console him except her recollection, as it were incarnate in a daughter who resembled her exactly in everything but years. But on the contrary, Chand was a lover of war. And he spent his whole life in fighting everlasting battles with all surrounding kings, never resting for a moment: and he reduced them, one by one, to submission and obedience, bending down their stubborn heads till their crowns were reflected all together in a ring in the jewels of his toes as they humbly knelt before him, like a crown composed of crowns: for his military skill was like his stature, gigantic. And he married unwillingly, only for the sake of continuing the line of his descent; and having once obtained a son, he turned his back upon his wife, and went away, leaving her behind him, alone in his capital, and carrying away with him his son, whom he brought up in his camp, making him a warrior, and teaching him, both by continual precept and his own example, utter contempt for every peaceful occupation, and above all, for women. And so he went on, year by year, until at last, when his son was eighteen, and still unmarried,[[5]] for his father kept putting off his marriage, saying: What is the need of hurry? a necessary evil is better still deferred: King Chand was suddenly killed, in the field of battle. And he just had time to murmur to his son: Follow in my footsteps: recollect my lessons: guard the kingdom: conquer the regions, and above all, beware of women: when Death took him, as it were, by the throat while he was speaking, and he set out instantly along the Great Road.

So, then, when his son, who was named after his father, had performed his father's obsequies according to the rites, he continued to live, exactly as his father had, before. And after a while, his ministers came to him one day, and said: Maháráj, this is well, that the son should continue to run, like a wheel, in the rut his father made. But still there is a difference, between thee and thy father, which escapes thy observation. Then said Chand: What is that? And they said: He carried about with him everywhere, a son. And Chand said: Ha! so he did. Then said his ministers: It is high time that thy marriage also took place: and then in due time, the parallel between thy father and thyself will be exact, and thou wilt resemble him as closely as the moon resembles his own image in the water.

And then, Chand laughed, and he exclaimed: As if it were necessary to get married, in order to obtain a son! And his ministers said: It is absolutely necessary. For a son that is truly a son can be begotten only of a wife truly a wife, led by thee around the sacred fire.

Then said Chand: Ye are all mere fools. For if I choose, cannot I adopt a son, as many of my ancestors have done before me? And this is by far the better way. For who can tell beforehand what his own begotten son will be like? For many times a bad son has issued from the loins of a good father. But he who chooses a son, like one that chooses a horse, knows what he is doing: since he takes him for his qualities, visible and sure, out of all that he can find. And in this way, the object is attained, without having recourse to the expedient of a wife.

Then said his ministers: O King, if all men were to follow thy example, the world would come to an end. For even adopted sons cannot be adopted, until they are begotten. And if thou wilt not marry, others must: or else thy plan is impossible and vain.

Then said Chand: Let the others all do exactly as they please, and so will I: for I at least will be an exception to this universal rule of marriage. For if women, as it seems, are indispensable, in this matter of procuring sons, I see no other use in them whatever. What is a woman but a mine of faults? For she cannot fight, and is destitute of valour; and she is absolutely nothing whatever but a man deprived of his manhood, a weakling, a coward, and a dwarf, and as it were, a misincarnation of impotence, accidentally formed by the Creator in a moment of fatigue, or forgetfulness, or hurry, or it may be, out of irony and sport: for there is absolutely nothing whatever worth doing, which a woman 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.[[6]]

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 brahmachari[[7]] 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 bow[[8]] 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.