The Little Clay Cart

by King Shudraka

  Beadle. Oh, sir! Brother-in-law of the king! Wait a moment. I will inform the magistrates at once. [He returns to the Judge.] The brother-in-law of the king is angry, and says—[He repeats Sansthānaka's words.]

  Judge. This fool might do anything. My good man, tell him to come hither, that his suit will be considered.

  Beadle. [Approaching Sansthānaka.] Sir, the magistrates send word that you are to come in, that your suit will be considered. Pray enter, sir.

  Sansthānaka. Firsht they shay it won't be conshidered, then they shay it will be conshidered. The magishtrates are shcared. Whatever I shay, I 'll make 'em believe it. Good! I 'll enter. [He enters and approaches the magistrates.] I am feeling very well, thank you. Whether you feel well or not—that depends on me.

  Judge. [Aside.] Well, well! We seem to have a highly cultivated plaintiff. [Aloud.] Pray be seated.

  Sansthānaka. Well! Thish floor belongs to me. I 'll sit down wherever I like. [To the gild-warden.] I'll sit here. [To the beadle.] Why should n't I sit here? [He lays his hand on the Judge's head.] I 'll sit here. [He sits down on the floor.]

  Judge. You desire to present a case?

  Sansthānaka. Of courshe.

  Judge. Then state the case.

  Sansthānaka. I 'll whishper it. I was born in the great family of a man as glorioush as a wine-glass.

  My father's father of the king—in law;

  The king, he is my daddy's son-in-law;

  And I am brother to the king—in law;

  And the husband of my shishter is the king.6

  [136]

  [140.1. S.

  Judge. All this we know.

  Why should you boast of this your noble birth?

  'T is character that makes the man of worth;

  But thorns and weeds grow rank in fertile earth.7

  State your case.

  Sansthānaka. I will, but even if I was guilty, he wouldn't do anything to me. Well, my shishter's husband liked me, and gave me the besht garden there is, the old garden Pushpakaranda, to play in and look after. And there I go every day to look at it, to keep it dry, to keep it clean, to keep it blosshoming, to keep it trimmed. But fate decreed that I shaw—or rather, I didn't shee—the proshtrate body of a woman.

  Judge. Do you know who the unfortunate woman was?

  Sansthānaka. Hello, magishtrates! Why shouldn't I know? A woman like that! the pearl of the city! adorned with a hundred golden ornaments! Shomebody's unworthy shon enticed her into the old garden Pushpakaranda when it was empty, and for a mere trifle—for her money!—shtrangled Vasantasenā and killed her. But I didn't—[He breaks off, and puts his hand over his mouth.]

  Judge. What carelessness on the part of the city police! Gild-warden and clerk, write down the words "I didn't," as the first article in the case.

  Clerk. Yes, sir. [He does so.] Sir, it is written.

  Sansthānaka. [Aside.] Goodnessh! Now I've ruined myshelf, like a man that shwallows a cake of rice and milk in a hurry. Well, I'll get out of it thish way. [Aloud.] Well, well, magishtrates! I was jusht remarking that I didn't shee it happen. What are you making thish hullabaloo about? [He wipes out the written words with his foot.][137]

  P. 233.3]

  Judge. How do you know that she was strangled—and for her money?

  Sansthānaka. Hello! Why shouldn't I think sho, when her neck was shwollen and bare, and the places where you wear jewels did n't have any gold on them?

  Gild-warden and Clerk. That seems plausible.

  Sansthānaka. [Aside.] Thank heaven! I breathe again. Hooray!

  Gild-warden and Clerk. Upon whom does the conduct of this case depend?

  Judge. The case has a twofold aspect.

  Gild-warden and Clerk. How so?

  Judge. We have to consider the allegations, then the facts. Now the investigation of the allegations depends upon plaintiff and defendant. But the investigation of the facts must be carried out by the wisdom of the judge.

  Gild-warden and Clerk. Then the conduct of the case depends upon the presence of Vasantasenā's mother?

  Judge. Precisely. My good beadle, summon Vasantasenā's mother, without, however, giving her cause for anxiety.

  Beadle. Yes, Your Honor. [He goes out, and returns with the mother of the courtezan.] Follow me, madam.

  Mother. My daughter went to the house of a friend to enjoy her youth. But now comes this gentleman—long life to him!—and says "Come! The judge summons you." I find myself quite bewildered. My heart is palpitating. Sir, will you conduct me to the court-room?

  Beadle. Follow me, madam. [They walk about.] Here is the court-room. Pray enter, madam. [They enter.]

  Mother. [Approaching.] Happiness be yours, most worthy gentlemen.

  Judge. My good woman, you are very welcome. Pray be seated.[138]

  [141.24. S.

  Mother. Thank you. [She seats herself.]

  Sansthānaka. [Abusively.] You 're here, are you, you old bawd?

  Judge. Tell me. Are you Vasantasenā's mother?

  Mother. I am.

  Judge. Whither has Vasantasenā gone at this moment?

  Mother. To the house of a friend.

  Judge. What is the name of her friend?

  Mother. [Aside.] Dear me! Really, this is very embarrassing. [Aloud.] Any one else might ask me this, but not a judge.

  Judge. Pray do not be embarrassed. The conduct of the case puts the question.

  Gild-warden and Clerk. The conduct of the case puts the question. You incur no fault. Speak.

  Mother. What! the conduct of the case? If that is so, then listen, worthy gentlemen. There lives in the merchants' quarter the grandson of the merchant Vinayadatta, the son of Sāgaradatta, a man whose name is a good omen in itself—that name is Chārudatta. In his house my daughter enjoys her youth.

  Sansthānaka. Did you hear that? Write those words down. My contention is with Chārudatta.

  Gild-warden and Clerk. It is no sin for Chārudatta to be her friend.

  Judge. The conduct of this case demands the presence of Chārudatta.

  Gild-warden and Clerk. Exactly.

  Judge. Dhanadatta, write as the first article in the case "Vasantasenā went to the house of Chārudatta." But must we summon the worthy Chārudatta also? No, the conduct of the case summons him. Go, my good beadle, summon Chārudatta,—but gently, without haste, without giving him cause for anxiety, respectfully, as it were incidentally,—with the words "The judge wishes to see you."[139]

  P. 236.11]

  Beadle. Yes, Your Honor. [He goes out, then returns with Chārudatta.] Follow me, sir.

  Chārudatta. [Thoughtfully.]

  My character and kin are known

  Unto the king who rules our state;

  And in this summons there is shown

  A doubt begotten of my wretched fate.8

  [Reflectively. Aside.]

  Ah! Were there those, the man to recognize

  Who met me on the road, from bondage freed?

  Or did the king, who sees through cunning spies,

  Learn that my cart was lent him in his need?

  Why should I else be forced to tread the street,

  Like one accused of crime, my judge to meet?9

  But why consider thus? I must go to the court-room. My good beadle, conduct me to the court.

  Beadle. Follow me, sir. [They walk about.]

  Chārudatta. [Apprehensively.] And what means this?

  Hear how the gloomy raven hoarsely croaks;

  The slaves of justice summon me again;

  My left eye twitches; these repeated strokes

  Of threatened evil frighten me and pain.10

  Beadle. Follow me, sir, gently and without haste.

  Chārudatta. [Walks about and looks before him.]

  Upon the withered tree, a crow

  Turns to the sun;

  His left eye falls on me. Ah, woe!

  My doubt is done.11

  [He looks in another direction.] But see! a snake!
<
br />   His eye is fixed upon me; and his back

  Flashes like antimony's lustrous black;

  His long tongue quivers; four white fangs appear;

  His belly swells and coils. He slumbered here,

  This prince of serpents, till I crossed his path,

  And now he darts upon me in his wrath.12

  [140]

  [143.21. S.

  And more than this:

  I slip, although the ground has felt no rain;

  My left eye, and my left arm throb again;

  Another bird is screaming overhead;

  All bodes a cruel death, and hope is fled.13

  Surely, the gods will grant that all may yet be well.

  Beadle. Follow me, sir. Here is the court-room. Pray enter.

  Chārudatta. [Enters and looks about.] How wonderfully splendid is the court-room. For it seems an ocean,

  Whose waters are the king's advisers, deep

  In thought; as waves and shells it seems to keep

  The attorneys; and as sharks and crocodiles

  It has its spies that stand in waiting files;

  Its elephants and horses[83] represent

  The cruel ocean-fish on murder bent;

  As if with herons of the sea, it shines

  With screaming pettifoggers' numerous lines;

  While in the guise of serpents, scribes are creeping

  Upon its statecraft-trodden shore: the court

  The likeness of an ocean still is keeping,

  To which all harmful-cruel beasts resort.14

  Come! [As he enters, he strikes his head against the door. Reflectively.] Alas! This also?

  My left eye throbs; a raven cries;

  A serpent coils athwart my path.

  My safety now with heaven lies.15

  But I must enter. [He does so.]

  [141]

  P. 238.16]

  Judge. This is Chārudatta.

  A countenance like his, with clear-cut nose,

  Whose great, wide-opened eye frank candor shows,

  Is not the home of wantonness;

  With elephants, with horses, and with kine,

  The outer form is inner habit's sign;

  With men no less.16

  Chārudatta. My greetings to the officers of justice. Officials, I salute you.

  Judge. [Betraying his agitation.] You are very welcome, sir. My good beadle, give the gentleman a seat.

  Beadle. [Brings a seat.] Here is a seat. Pray be seated, sir. [Chārudatta seats himself.]

  Sansthānaka. [Angrily.] You're here, are you, you woman-murderer? Well! Thish is a fine trial, thish is a jusht trial, where they give a sheat to thish woman-murderer. [Haughtily.] But it's all right. They can give it to him.

  Judge. Chārudatta, have you any attachment, or affection, or friendship, with this lady's daughter?

  Chārudatta. What lady?

  Judge. This lady. [He indicates Vasantasenā's mother.]

  Chārudatta. [Rising.] Madam, I salute you.

  Mother. Long life to you, my son! [Aside.] So this is Chārudatta. My daughter's youth is in good hands.

  Judge. Sir, is the courtezan your friend? [Chārudatta betrays his embarrassment.]

  Sansthānaka.

  He tries to hide the deed he did;

  He lies, from shame or fear;

  He murdered her, of her got rid

  For gold, and thinks the deed is hid;

  Not sho his mashter here.17

  [142]

  [145.18. S.

  Gild-warden and Clerk. Speak, Chārudatta. Do not be ashamed. This is a lawsuit.

  Chārudatta. [In embarrassment.] Officials, how can I testify that a courtezan is my friend? But at worst, it is youth that bears the blame, not character.

  Judge.

  The case is hard; then banish shame,

  Though it oppress your heart;

  Speak truth with fortitude, and aim

  To set deceit apart.18

  Do not be embarrassed. The conduct of the case puts the question.

  Chārudatta. Officer, with whom have I a lawsuit?

  Sansthānaka. [Arrogantly.] With me!

  Chārudatta. A lawsuit with you is unendurable!

  Sansthānaka. Well, well, woman-murderer! You murder a woman like Vasantasenā who used to wear a hundred gems, and now you try deceitful deceivings to hide it!

  Chārudatta. You are a fool.

  Judge. Enough of him, good Chārudatta. Speak the truth. Is the courtezan your friend?

  Chārudatta. She is.

  Judge. Sir, where is Vasantasenā?

  Chārudatta. She has gone home.

  Gild-warden and Clerk. How did she go? When did she go? Who accompanied her?

  Chārudatta. [Aside.] Shall I say that she went unobserved?

  Gild-warden and Clerk. Speak, sir.

  Chārudatta. She went home. What more shall I say?

  Sansthānaka. She was enticed into my old garden Pushpakaranda, and was shtrangled for her money. Now will you shay that she went home?

  Chārudatta. Man, you are crazy.[143]

  The very clouds of heaven wet not you;

  Your lips are like the blue-jay's wing-tip worn,

  Yes, full as fickle with their speech untrue,

  And like the winter lotus lustre-lorn.19

  P. 241.19]

  Judge. [Aside.]

  Take the Himalayan hills within your hand,

  And swim from ocean strand to ocean strand,

  And hold within your grasp the fleeting wind:

  Then may you think that Chārudatta sinned.20

  [Aloud.] This is the noble Chārudatta. How could he commit this crime? [He repeats the verse "A countenance like his:" page 141.]

  Sansthānaka. Why thish partiality in a lawshuit?

  Judge. Away, you fool!

  Illiterate, you gloss the Sacred Law,

  And still your tongue uninjured find?

  The midday sun with steadfast eye you saw,

  And are not straightway stricken blind?

  You thrust your hand into the blazing fire,

  And draw it forth, unscathed and sound?

  Drag Chārudatta's virtue in the mire,

  Nor sink beneath this yawning ground?21

  How could the noble Chārudatta commit a crime?

  Of all the riches of the mighty sea

  Only the swelling waters now are left,

  Because, without consideration, he—

  For others' good—himself of all has reft.

  And should this high-souled man, this store-house where

  All gems of virtue gather and unite,

  For lucre's sake, so foul a trespass dare

  That in it even his foe could not delight?22

  Mother. You scoundrel! When the golden casket that was left[144] with him as a pledge was stolen by thieves at night, he gave in place of it a pearl necklace that was the pride of the four seas. And he should now, for a mere trifle—for her money!—do this sin? Oh, my child, come back to me, my daughter! [She weeps.]

  [147.16. S.

  Judge. Noble Chārudatta, did she go on foot, or in a bullock-cart?

  Chārudatta. I did not see her when she went. Therefore I do not know whether she went on foot, or in a bullock-cart.

  * * *

  [Enter Vīraka, in anger.]

  Vīraka.

  My anger was so prodded to the quick,

  By that dishonoring, insulting kick,

  And so I brooded, till at last the night

  Unwilling yielded to the dawning light.23

  So now I will go to the court-room. [He enters.] May happiness be the lot of these honorable gentlemen.

  Judge. Ah, it is Vīraka, the captain of the guard. Vīraka, what is the purpose of your coming?

  Vīraka. Well! I was looking for Aryaka, in all the excitement about his escape from prison. I had my suspicions about a covered bullock-cart that was coming, and wanted to look in. "You 've made one inspection, man, I mus
t make another," said I, and then I was kicked by the highly respectable Chandanaka. You have heard the matter, gentlemen. The rest is your affair.

  Judge. My good man, do you know to whom the bullock-cart belonged?

  Vīraka. To this gentleman here, Chārudatta. And the driver said that Vasantasenā was in it, and was on her way to have a good time in the old garden Pushpakaranda.

  Sansthānaka. Lishten to that, too!

  Judge.

  This moon, alas, though spotless-bright,

  Is now eclipsed, and robbed of light;

  [145]The bank is fallen; the waves appear

  Befouled, that once were bright and clear.24

  P. 244.8]

  Vīraka, we will investigate your case here later. Mount the horse that stands before the court-room door, go to the garden Pushpakaranda, and see whether a woman has perished there or not.

  Vīraka. Yes, sir. [He goes out, then returns.] I have been there. And I saw the body of a woman, torn by wild beasts.

  Gild-warden and Clerk. How do you know that it was the body of a woman?

  Vīraka. That I perceived from the traces of hair and arms and hands and feet.

  Judge. Alas for the difficulties which are caused by the actions of men!

  The more one may apply his skill,

  The harder is the matter still;

  Plain are indeed the law's demands,

  Yet judgment insecurely stands

  As some poor cow on shifting sands.25

  Chārudatta. [Aside.]

  As bees, when flowers begin to blow,

  Gather to sip the honey, so

  When man is marked by adverse fate,

  Misfortunes enter every gate.26

  Judge. Noble Chārudatta, speak truth!

  Chārudatta.

  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