The Little Clay Cart
Page 17
And more than this:
The creeper's beauty would I never blight,
Nor pluck its flowers; should I not be afraid
[146]To seize her hair so lovely-long, and bright
As wings of bees, and slay a weeping maid?28
[149.15. S.
Sansthānaka. Hello, magishtrates! How can you inveshtigate the cashe with such partiality? Why, even now you let thish shcoundrel Chārudatta shtay on his sheat.
Judge. My good beadle, so be it [The beadle follows Sansthānaka's suggestion.]
Chārudatta. Consider, magistrates, consider what you are doing! [He leaves his seat, and sits on the floor.]
Sansthānaka. [Dancing about gleefully. Aside.] Fine! The shin that I did falls on another man's head. Sho I 'll sit where Chārudatta was. [He does so.] Look at me, Chārudatta, and confessh that you murdered her.
Chārudatta. Magistrates!
A mean and jealous creature, passion-blind,
Sets all his soul, some fatal means to find
To slay the man he envies; shall his lies,
By evil nature prompted, win the prize?
No! he is unregarded by the wise.(27)
[Sighing. Aside.]
My friend Maitreya! Oh, this cruel blow!
My wife, thou issue of a spotless strain!
My Rohasena! Here am I, laid low
By sternest fate; and thou, thou dost not know
That all thy childish games are played in vain.
Thou playest, heedless of another's pain!29
But Maitreya I sent to Vasantasenā, that he might bring me tidings of her, and might restore the jewels which she gave my child, to buy him a toy cart. Why then does he linger?
* * *
[Enter Maitreya with the gems.]
P. 246.19]
Maitreya. Chārudatta bade me go to Vasantasenā, to return her[147] jewels, and he said to me: "Maitreya, Vasantasenā adorned my dear Rohasena with her own jewels, and sent him thus to his mother. It was fitting that she should give him the jewels, but not that we should receive them. Therefore restore them to her." So now I will go to Vasantasenā's house. [He walks about and looks around, then speaks to a person behind the scenes.] Ah, it is Master Rebhila. Oh, Master Rebhila, why do you seem so exceedingly troubled? [He listens.] What! do you mean to say that my dear friend Chārudatta has been summoned to court? That can hardly be an insignificant matter. [He reflects.] I will go to Vasantasenā's house later, but now I will go to the court-room. [He walks about and looks around.] Here is the court-room. I will go in at once. [He enters.] May happiness be the lot of the magistrates. Where is my friend?
Judge. Here.
Maitreya. My friend, I wish you happiness.
Chārudatta. It will be mine.
Maitreya. And peace.
Chārudatta. That too will be mine.
Maitreya. My friend, why do you seem so exceedingly troubled? And why were you summoned?
Chārudatta. My friend,
A scoundrel I, who bear the blame,
Nor seek in heaven to be blest;
A maid—or goddess—'t is the same—
But he will say the rest.30
Maitreya. What? what?
Chārudatta. [Whispers.] That is it.
Maitreya. Who says that?
Chārudatta. [Indicating Sansthānaka.] This poor fellow is the instrument that fate uses to accuse me.[148]
[131.12. S.
Maitreya. [Aside to Chārudatta.] Why don't you simply say that she went home?
Chārudatta. Though I say it, it is not believed, so unfortunate is my condition.
Maitreya. But gentlemen! He adorned the city of Ujjayinī with mansions, cloisters, parks, temples, pools, and fountains, and he should be mad enough to commit such a crime—and for a mere trifle? [Wrathfully.] You offspring of a loose wench, you brother-in-law of the king, Sansthānaka, you libertine, you slanderer, you buffoon, you gilded monkey, say it before me! This friend of mine does n't even draw a flowering jasmine creeper to himself, to gather the blossoms, for fear that a twig might perhaps be injured. How should he commit a crime like this, which heaven and earth call accursèd? Just wait, you son of a bawd! Wait till I split your head into a hundred pieces with this staff of mine, as crooked as your heart.
Sansthānaka. [Angrily.] Lishten to that, gentlemen! I have a quarrel, or a lawshuit, with Chārudatta. What right has a man with a pate that looks like a caret, to shplit my head into a hundred pieces? Not much! You confounded rashcal! [Maitreya raises his staff and repeats his words. Sansthānaka rises angrily and strikes him. Maitreya strikes back. During the scuffle the jewels fall from Maitreya's girdle.]
Sansthānaka. [Picks up the jewels and examines them. Excitedly.] Look, gentlemen, look! These are the poor girl's jewels! [Pointing to Chārudatta.] For a trifle like thish he murdered her, and killed her too. [The magistrates all bow their heads.]
Chārudatta. [Aside to Maitreya.]
'T is thus my fate would vent its gall,
That at this moment they should fall,
These gems—and with them, I.31
Maitreya. But why don't you simply tell the truth?[149]
P. 250.1]
Chārudatta. My friend,
The king perceives with blinded eye,
Nor on the truth that eye will bend;
Though telling all, I cannot fly
A wretched and inglorious end.32
Judge. Alas! Alas!
With Mars strives Jupiter, and dies;
Beside them both there seems to rise
A comet-planet[84] in the skies.33
Gild-warden and Clerk. [Looking at the casket. To Vasantasenā's mother.] Madam, pray examine this golden casket attentively, to see whether it be the same or not.
Mother. [Examining the casket.] It is similar, but not the same.
Sansthānaka. Oh, you old bawd! You confessh it with your eyes, and deny it with your lips.
Mother. Away, you scoundrel!
Gild-warden and Clerk. Speak carefully. Is it the same or not?
Mother. Sir, the craftsman's skill captivates the eye. But it is not the same.
Judge. My good woman, do you know these jewels?
Mother. No, I said. No! I don't recognize them; but perhaps they were made by the same craftsman.
Judge. Gild-warden, see!
Gems often seem alike in many ways,
When the artist's mind on form and beauty plays;
For craftsmen imitate what they have seen,
And skilful hands remake what once has been.34
Gild-warden and Clerk. Do these jewels belong to Chārudatta?
Chārudatta. Never!
Gild-warden and Clerk. To whom then?
[150]
[153.12. S.
Chārudatta. To this lady's daughter.
Gild-warden and Clerk. How did she lose them?
Chārudatta. She lost them. Yes, so much is true.
Gild-warden and Clerk. Chārudatta, speak the truth in this matter. For you must remember,
Truth brings well-being in its train;
Through speaking truth, no evils rise;
Truth, precious syllable!—Refrain
From hiding truth in lies.35
Chārudatta. The jewels, the jewels! I do not know. But I do know that they were taken from my house.
Sansthānaka. Firsht you take her into the garden and murder her. And now you hide it by tricky trickinessh.
Judge. Noble Chārudatta, speak the truth!
Merciless lashes wait to smite
This moment on thy tender flesh;
And we—we can but think it right.36
Chārudatta.
Of sinless sires I boast my birth,
And sin in me was never found;
Yet if suspicion taints my worth,
What boots it though my heart be sound?37
[Aside.] And yet I know not what to do with life, so I be robbed of Vasantasenā. [Aloud.] Ah, why waste words?
A scoundrel I, who bear the blame,
Nor think of earth, nor heaven blest;
That sweetest maid, in passion's flame—
But he will say the rest.38
Sansthānaka. Killed her! Come, you shay it too. "I killed her."
Chārudatta. You have said it.
Sansthānaka. Lishten, my mashters, lishten! He murdered her! No one but him! Doubt is over. Let punishment be inflicted on the body of thish poor Chārudatta.[151]
P. 253.1]
Judge. Beadle, we must do as the king's brother-in-law says. Guardsmen, lay hold on this Chārudatta. [The guardsmen do so.]
Mother. Be merciful, good gentlemen, be merciful! [She repeats what she had said before, beginning "When the golden casket:" page 143.] If my daughter is killed, she is killed. Let him live for me—bless him! And besides, a lawsuit is a matter between plaintiff and defendant. I am the real plaintiff. So let him go free!
Sansthānaka. You shlave, get out of the way! What have you got to shay about him?
Judge. Go, madam. Guardsmen, conduct her forth.
Mother. Oh, my child, my son![Exit weeping.
Sansthānaka. [Aside.] I 've done shomething worthy of myshelf. Now I 'll go.[Exit.
Judge. Noble Chārudatta, the decision lies with us, but the rest depends on the king. And yet, beadle, let King Pālaka be reminded of this:
The Brahman who has sinned, our laws declare,
May not be slain, but banished from the realm,
And with his wealth entire abroad may fare.39
Beadle. Yes, Your Honor. [He goes out, then reënters in tears.] Oh, sirs, I was with the king. And King Pālaka says: "Inasmuch as he killed Vasantasenā for such a trifle, these same jewels shall be hung about his neck, the drum shall be beaten, he shall be conducted to the southern burying-ground, and there impaled." And whoever else shall commit such a crime, shall be punished with the like dreadful doom.
Chārudatta. Oh, how wanton is this act of King Pālaka! Nevertheless,
Although his counsellors may plunge a king
Into injustice' dangers great,
Yet he will reap the woe and suffering;
And 't is a righteous fate.40
[155.10. S.
And more than this:[152]
They who pervert the king's true bent,
The white crow's part who play,
Have slain their thousands innocent,
And slay, and slay, and slay.41
My friend Maitreya, go, greet the mother of my son in my name for the last time. And keep my son Rohasena free from harm.
Maitreya. When the root is cut away, how can the tree be saved?
Chārudatta. No, not so.
When man departs to worlds above,
In living son yet liveth he;
Bestow on Rohasena love
No less than that thou gavest me.42
Maitreya. Oh, my friend! I will prove myself your friend by continuing the life that you leave unfinished.
Chārudatta. And let me see Rohasena for a single moment.
Maitreya. I will. It is but fitting.
Judge. My good beadle, remove this man. [The beadle does so.] Who is there? Let the headsmen receive their orders. [The guardsmen loose their hold on Chārudatta, and all of them go out.]
Beadle. Come with me, sir.
Chārudatta. [Mournfully repeats the verse, page 146, beginning "My friend Maitreya!" Then, as if speaking to one not present.]
If you had proved my conduct by the fire,
By water, poison, scales, and thus had known
That I deserved that saws should bite my bone,
My Brahman's frame, more could I not desire.
You trust a foeman, slay me thus? 'T is well.
With sons, and sons' sons, now you plunge to hell!43
I come! I come![Exeunt omnes.
FOOTNOTES:
[83] Elephants were employed as executioners; and, according to Lallādīkṣita, the horses served the same purpose.
[84] This refers to the fallen jewels.
* * *
[153]
ACT THE TENTH
THE END
[Enter Chārudatta, accompanied by two headsmen.]
Headsmen.
Then think no longer of the pain;
In just a second you 'll be slain.
We understand the fashions new
To fetter you and kill you too.
In chopping heads we never fail,
Nor when the victim we impale.1
Out of the way, gentlemen, out of the way! This is the noble Chārudatta.
The oleander on his brow,
In headsmen's hands you see him now;
Like a lamp whose oil runs nearly dry,
His light fades gently, ere it die.2
Chārudatta. [Gloomily.]
My body wet by tear-drops falling, falling;
My limbs polluted by the clinging mud;
Flowers from the graveyard torn, my wreath appalling;
For ghastly sacrifice hoarse ravens calling,
And for the fragrant incense of my blood.3
Headsmen.
Out of the way, gentlemen, out of the way!
Why gaze upon the good man so?
The ax of death soon lays him low.
Yet good men once sought shelter free,
Like birds, upon this kindly tree.4
Come, Chārudatta, come!
Chārudatta. Incalculable are the ways of human destiny, that I am come to such a plight!
Red marks of hands in sandal paste
O'er all my body have been placed;
[154]The man, with meal and powder strewn,
Is now to beast of offering grown.5
[157.19. S.
[He gazes intently before him.] Alas for human differences!
[Mournfully.]
For when they see the fate that I must brave,
With tears for death's poor victim freely given,
The citizens cry "shame," yet cannot save,—
Can only pray that I attain to heaven.6
Headsmen. Out of the way, gentlemen, out of the way! Why do you gaze upon him?
God Indra moving through the sky,[85]
The calving cow, the falling star,
The good man when he needs must die,—
These four behold not from afar.7
Goha. Look, Ahīnta! Look, man!
While he, of citizens the best,
Goes to his death at fate's behest,
Does heaven thus weep that he must die?
Does lightning paint the cloudless sky?8
Ahīnta. Goha, man,
The heaven weeps not that he must die,
Nor lightning paints the cloudless sky;
Yet streams are falling constantly
From many a woman's clouded eye.9
And again:
While this poor victim to his death is led,
No man nor woman here but sorely weeps;
And so the dust, by countless tear-drops fed,
Thus peacefully upon the highway sleeps.10
Chārudatta. [Gazes intently. Mournfully.]
These women, in their palaces who stay,
From half-shut windows peering, thus lament,
[155]"Alas for Chārudatta! Woe the day!"
And pity-streaming eyes on me are bent.11
P. 258.12]
Headsmen. Come, Chārudatta, come! Here is the place of proclamation. Beat the drum and proclaim the sentence.
Listen, good people, listen! This is the noble Chārudatta, son of Sāgaradatta, and grandson of the merchant Vinayadatta. This malefactor enticed the courtezan Vasantasenā into the deserted old garden Pushpakaranda, and for a mere trifle murdered her by strangling. He was taken with the booty, and confessed his guilt. Therefore are we under orders from King Pālaka to execute him. And if any other commit such a crime, accursèd in this world and the next, him too King Pālaka condemns to the like punishment.
&n
bsp; Chārudatta. [Despondently. Aside.]
By hundred sacrifices purified,
My radiant name
Was once proclaimed by countless altars' side,
And knew no blame.
Now comes my hour of death, and evil men
Of baser fame
In public spots proclaim it once again,
But linked with shame.12
[He looks up and stops his ears.]
Vasantasenā! Oh, my belovèd!
From thy dear lips, that vied with coral's red,
Betraying teeth more bright than moonbeams fair,
My soul with heaven's nectar once was fed.
How can I, helpless, taste that poison dread,
To drink shame's poisoned cup how can I bear?13
Headsmen.
Out of the way, gentlemen, out of the way!
This treasure-house, with pearls of virtue stored,
This bridge for good men o'er misfortune's river,
This gem now robbed of all its golden hoard,
Departs our town to-day, departs forever.14
[159.15. S.
[156]
And again:
Whom fortune favors, find
That all the world is kind;
Whose happy days are ended,
Are rarely thus befriended.15
Chārudatta. [Looks about him.]
Their faces with their garments' hem now hiding,
They stand afar, whom once I counted friends:
Even foes have smiles for men with Fortune biding: