The Little Clay Cart, Sudraka [highly recommended books .txt] 📗
- Author: Sudraka
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Vasantasenā. It is a very dainty art, sir, which you have mastered.
Shampooer. Madam, as an art I mastered it. It has now become a mere trade.
Madanikā. Your answers are most disconsolate, sir. Pray continue.
Shampooer. Yes, madam. When I was at home, I used to hear travelers tell tales, and I wanted to see new countries, and so I came here. And when I had come here to Ujjayinī, I became the servant of a noble gentleman. Such a handsome, courteous gentleman! When he gave money away, he did not boast; when he was injured, he forgot it. To cut a long story short: he was so courteous that he regarded his own person as the possession of others, and had compassion on all who sought his protection.
Madanikā. Who may it be that adorns Ujjayinī with the virtues which he has stolen from the object of my mistress' desires?
Vasantasenā. Good, girl, good! I had the same thought in mind.
Madanikā. But to continue, sir—
Shampooer. Madam, he was so compassionate and so generous that now—
Vasantasenā. His riches have vanished?
Shampooer. I didn't say it. How did you guess it, madam?
Vasantasenā. What was there to guess? Virtue and money seldom keep company. In the pools from which men cannot drink there is so much the more water.
Madanikā. But sir, what is his name?
[37.23. S.
Shampooer. Madam, who does not know the name of this moon of the whole world? He lives in the merchants' quarter. He whose name is worthy of all honor is named Chārudatta.
Vasantasenā. [Joyfully rising from her seat.] Sir, this house is your own. Give him a seat, girl, and take this fan. The gentleman is weary. [Madanikā does as she is bid.]
Shampooer. [Aside.] What! so much honor because I mentioned Chārudatta's name? Heaven bless you, Chārudatta! You are the only man in the world who really lives. All others merely breathe. [He falls at Vasantasenā's feet.] Enough, madam, enough. Pray be seated, madam.
Vasantasenā. [Seating herself.] Where is he who is so richly your creditor, sir?
Shamp.
All other wealth is vain and quickly flies.
The man who honors not his neighbor's needs,
Does that man know what honor signifies?15
Vasantasenā. But to continue—
Shampooer. So I became a servant in his employ. And when his wealth was reduced to his virtue, I began to live by gambling. But fate was cruel, and I lost ten gold-pieces.
Māthura. I am ruined! I am robbed!
Shampooer. There are the gambling-master and the gambler, looking for me. You have heard my story, madam. The rest is your affair.
Vasantasenā. Madanikā, the birds fly everywhither when the tree is shaken in which they have their nests. Go, girl, and give the gambling-master and the gambler this bracelet. And tell them that this gentleman sends it. [She removes a bracelet from her arm, and gives it to Madanikā.]
Madanikā. [Receiving the bracelet.] Yes, mistress.[She goes out.]
P. 71.2]
Māthura. I am ruined! I am robbed!
Madanikā. Inasmuch as these two are looking up to heaven, and sighing, and chattering, and fastening their eyes on the door, I conclude that they must be the gambling-master and the gambler. [Approaching.] I salute you, sir.
Māthura. May happiness be yours.
Madanikā. Sir, which of you is the gambling-master?
Māth.
With red lip wounded in love's ardent play,
On whom is bent that sweet, coquettish eye?
For whom that lisp that steals the heart away?16
I haven't got any money. You'll have to look somewhere else.
Madanikā. You are certainly no gambler, if you talk that way. Is there any one who owes you money?
Māthura. There is. He owes ten gold-pieces. What of him?
Madanikā. In his behalf my mistress sends you this bracelet. No, no! He sends it himself.
Māthura. [Seizing it joyfully.] Well, well, you may tell the noble youth that his account is squared. Let him come and seek delight again in gambling.[Exeunt Māthura and the gambler.
Madanikā. [Returning to Vasantasenā.] Mistress, the gambling-master and the gambler have gone away well-pleased.
Vasantasenā. Go, sir, and comfort your kinsfolk.
Shampooer. Ah, madam, if it may be, these hands would gladly practise their art in your service.
Vasantasenā. But sir, he for whose sake you mastered the art, who first received your service, he should have your service still.
Shampooer. [Aside.] A very pretty way to decline my services. How shall I repay her kindness? [Aloud.] Madam, thus dishonored as a gambler, I shall become a Buddhist monk. And so, madam, treasure these words in your memory: "He was a shampooer, a gambler, a Buddhist monk."
[40.1. S.
Vasantasenā. Sir, you must not act too precipitately.
Shampooer. Madam, my mind is made up. [He walks about.]
I gambled, and in gambling I did fall,
Till every one beheld me with dismay.
Now I shall show my honest face to all,
And walk abroad upon the king's highway.17
[Tumultuous cries behind the scenes.]
Shampooer. [Listening.] What is this? What is this? [Addressing some one behind the scenes.] What did you say? "Post-breaker, Vasantasenā's rogue elephant, is at liberty!" Hurrah! I must go and see the lady's best elephant. No, no! What have I to do with these things? I must hold to my resolution.[Exit.
[Then enter hastily Karnapūraka, highly delighted, wearing a gorgeous mantle.]
Karnapūraka. Where is she? Where is my mistress?
Madanikā. Insolent! What can it be that so excites you? You do not see your mistress before your very eyes.
Karnapūraka. [Perceiving Vasantasenā.] Mistress, my service to you.
Vasantasenā. Karnapūraka, your face is beaming. What is it?
Karnapūraka. [Proudly.] Oh, mistress! You missed it! You didn't see Karnapūraka's heroism to-day!
Vasantasenā. What, Karnapūraka, what?
Karnapūraka. Listen. Post-breaker, my mistress' rogue elephant, broke the stake he was tied to, killed his keeper, and ran into the street, making a terrible commotion. You should have heard the people shriek,
Take care of the babies, as quick as you can.
And climb up a roof or a tree!
The elephant rogue wants the blood of a man.
Escape! Run away! Can't you see?18
P. 74.14]
And:
Girdles, set with gems and things,
Break away from fastenings!
See the bracelets snap asunder,
Each a tangled, pearly wonder!19
And that rogue of an elephant dives with his trunk and his feet and his tusks into the city of Ujjayinī, as if it were a lotus-pond in full flower. At last he comes upon a Buddhist monk.[43] And while the man's staff and his water-jar and his begging-bowl fly every which way, he drizzles water over him and gets him between his tusks. The people see him and begin to shriek again, crying "Oh, oh, the monk is killed!"
Vasantasenā. [Anxiously.] Oh, what carelessness, what carelessness!
Karnapūraka. Don't be frightened. Just listen, mistress. Then, with a big piece of the broken chain dangling about him, he picked him up, picked up the monk between his tusks, and just then Karnapūraka saw him, I saw him, no, no! the slave who grows fat on my mistress' rice-cakes saw him, stumbled with his left foot over a gambler's score, grabbed up an iron pole out of a shop, and challenged the mad elephant—
Vasantasenā. Go on! Go on!
Karnap.
He really looked like some great mountain peak.
And from between those tusks of his I drew
The sacred hermit meek.20
Vasantasenā. Splendid, splendid! But go on!
Karnapūraka. Then, mistress, all Ujjayinī tipped over to one side, like a ship loaded unevenly, and you could hear nothing but "Hurrah, hurrah for Karnapūraka!" Then, mistress, a man touched the places where he ought to have ornaments, and, finding that he hadn't any, looked up, heaved a long sigh, and threw this mantle over me.
[41.19. S.
Vasantasenā. Find out, Karnapūraka, whether the mantle is perfumed with jasmine or not.
Karnapūraka. Mistress, the elephant perfume is so strong that I can't tell for sure.
Vasantasenā. Then look at the name.
Karnapūraka. Here is the name. You may read it, mistress. [He hands her the mantle.]
Vasantasenā. [Reads.] Chārudatta. [She seizes the mantle eagerly and wraps it about her.]
Madanikā. The mantle is very becoming to her, Karnapūraka.
Karnapūraka. Oh, yes, the mantle is becoming enough.
Vasantasenā. Here is your reward, Karnapūraka. [She gives him a gem.]
Karnapūraka. [Taking it and bowing low.] Now the mantle is most wonderfully becoming.
Vasantasenā. Karnapūraka, where is Chārudatta now?
Karnapūraka. He started to go home along this very street.
Vasantasenā. Come, girl! Let us go to the upper balcony and see Chārudatta.
[Exeunt omnes.
[39] Perhaps masseur would be more accurate.
[40] That of Māthura, the keeper of the gambling house.
[41] A humorously exaggerated reference to Indian ascetic practices.
[42] See note on page 33.
[43] The shampooer, whose transformation is astonishingly sudden.
ACT THE THIRD THE HOLE IN THE WALL[Enter Chārudatta's servant, Vardhamānaka.]
Vardh.
His servants love, however poor he be.
The purse-proud, with a will on harshness bent,
Pays service in the coin of cruelty.1
And again:
You never can prevent;
A wife who wants her lord to wear a horn
You never can prevent;
A man who loves to gamble night and morn
You never can prevent;
And blemishes[44] that with a man are born
You never can prevent.2
It is some time since Chārudatta went to the concert. It is past midnight, and still he does not come. I think I will go into the outer hall and take a nap. [He does so.]
[Enter Chārudatta and Maitreya.]
Chārudatta. How beautifully Rebhila sang! The lute is indeed a pearl, a pearl not of the ocean.
Gently the anxious lover's heart befriending,
Consoling when true lovers may not meet,
To love-lorn souls the dearest comforts sending,
It adds to sweetest love its more of sweet.3
Maitreya. Well then, let's go into the house.
Chārudatta. But how wonderfully Master Rebhila sang!
[44.1. S
Maitreya. There are just two things that always make me laugh. One is a woman talking Sanskrit, and the other is a man who tries to sing soft and low. Now when a woman talks Sanskrit, she is like a heifer with a new rope through her nose; all you hear is "soo, soo, soo." And when a man tries to sing soft and low, he reminds me of an old priest muttering texts, while the flowers in his chaplet dry up. No, I don't like it!
Chārudatta. My friend, Master Rebhila sang most wonderfully this evening. And still you are not satisfied.
The notes of love, peace, sweetness, could I trace,
The note that thrills, the note of passion too,
The note of woman's loveliness and grace—
Ah, my poor words add nothing, nothing new!
But as the notes in sweetest cadence rang,
I thought it was my hidden love who sang.4
The melody of song, the stricken strings
In undertone that half-unconscious clings,
More clearly sounding when the passions rise,
But ever sweeter as the music dies.
Words that strong passion fain would say again,
Yet checks their second utterance—in vain;
For music sweet as this lives on, until
I walk as hearing sweetest music still.5
Maitreya. But see, my friend! The very dogs are sound asleep in the shops that look out on the market. Let us go home. [He looks before him.] Look, look! The blessèd moon
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