The endless pictures of Krishna represent him surrounded by lovely ladies, and a curious detail of these drawings is that in many instances the group of girls is wreathed and twisted into the shape or semblance of a bird or a horse or an elephant, presenting an interesting and not unpleasing effect.
Now, all we have given so far, seems indeed a meager grist for the first division of our Outline. But one may not find what does not exist.
There is no doubt that humor was known and loved from the dawning of independent thought, but as it was not recorded, save for a few drawings, on the enduring rocks, it died with its originators.
Humor was the last need of a self-providing race, and even when found it was a luxury rather than a necessity.
As a fair example of the earliest tales that have lived in various forms ever since their first recital, is appended the bit of ancient Hindoo folk-lore, called
THE GOOD WIFE AND THE BAD HUSBAND
In a secluded village there lived a rich man, who was very miserly, and his wife, who was very kind-hearted and charitable, but a stupid little woman that believed everything she heard. And there lived in the same village a clever rogue, who had for some time watched for an opportunity for getting something from this simple woman during her husband’s absence. So one day, when he had seen the old miser ride out to inspect his lands, this rogue of the first water came to the house, and fell down at the threshold as if overcome by fatigue. The woman ran up to him at once and inquired whence he came. “I am come from Kailása,” said he; “having been sent down by an old couple living there, for news of their son and his wife.” “Who are those fortunate dwellers in Siva’s mountain?” she asked. And the rogue gave the names of her husband’s deceased parents, which he had taken good care, of course, to learn from the neighbours. “Do you really come from them?” said the simple woman. “Are they doing well there? Dear old people! How glad my husband would be to see you, were he here! Sit down, please, and rest until he returns. How do they live there? Have they enough to eat and dress themselves withal?” These and a hundred other questions she put to the rogue, who, for his part, wished to get away as soon as possible, knowing full well how he would be treated if the miser should return while he was there. So he replied, “Mother, language has no words to describe the miseries they are undergoing in the other world. They have not a rag of clothing, and for the last six days they have eaten nothing, and have lived on water only. It would break your heart to see them.” The rogue’s pathetic words deceived the good woman, who firmly believed that he had come down from Kailása, a messenger from the old couple to herself! “Why should they so suffer,” said she, “when their son has plenty to eat and clothe himself withal, and when their daughter-in-law wears all sorts of costly garments?” So saying, she went into the house, and soon came out again with two boxes containing all her own and her husband’s clothes, which she handed to the rogue, desiring him to deliver them to the poor old couple in Kailása. She also gave him her jewel-box, to be presented to her mother-in-law. “But dress and jewels will not fill their hungry stomachs,” said the rogue. “Very true; I had forgot: wait a moment,” said the simple woman, going into the house once more. Presently returning with her husband’s cash chest, she emptied its glittering contents into the rogue’s skirt, who now took his leave in haste, promising to give everything to the good old couple in Kailása; and having secured all the booty in his upper garment, he made off at the top of his speed as soon as the silly woman had gone indoors.
Shortly after this the husband returned home, and his wife’s pleasure at what she had done was so great that she ran to meet him at the door, and told him all about the arrival of the messenger from Kailása, how his parents were without clothes and food, and how she had sent them clothes and jewels and store of money. On hearing this, the anger of the husband was great; but he checked himself, and inquired which road the messenger from Kailása had taken, saying that he wished to follow him with a further message for his parents. So she very readily pointed out the direction in which the rogue had gone. With rage in his heart at the trick played upon his stupid wife, he rode off in hot haste, and after having proceeded a considerable distance, he caught sight of the flying rogue, who, finding escape hopeless, climbed up into a pipal tree. The husband soon reached the foot of the tree, when he shouted to the rogue to come down. “No, I cannot,” said he; “this is the way to Kailása,” and then climbed to the very top of the tree. Seeing there was no chance of the rogue coming down, and there being no one near to whom he could call for help, the old miser tied his horse to a neighbouring tree, and began to climb up the pipal himself. When the rogue observed this, he thanked all his gods most fervently, and having waited until his enemy had climbed nearly up to him, he threw down his bundle of booty, and then leapt nimbly from branch to branch till he reached the ground in safety, when he mounted the miser’s horse and with his bundle rode into a thick forest, where he was not likely to be discovered. Being thus balked the miser came down the pipal tree slowly, cursing his own stupidity in having risked his horse to recover the things which his wife had given the rogue, and returned home at leisure. His wife, who was waiting his return, welcomed him with a joyous countenance, and cried, “I thought as much: you have sent away your horse to Kailása, to be used by your old father.” Vexed at his wife’s words, as he was, he replied in the affirmative, to conceal his own folly.