The Weaver Who Loved a Princess

THE WEAVER WHO LOVED A PRINCESS

In the Molasses Belt is a city called Sugarcane City. In it lived two friends, a weaver and a carpenter. Since they were past masters in their respective crafts, they had earned enough money by their labors so that they kept no account of receipt and expenditure. They wore soft, gaily colored, expensive garments, adorned themselves with flowers and betel-leaves, and diffused odors of camphor, aloes, and musk. They worked nine hours a day, after which they adorned their persons and met for recreation in such places as public squares or temples. They made the rounds of the spots where society gathered—theaters,conversaziones,birthday parties, banquets,​and the like—then went home at twilight. And so the time passed.

One day there was a great festival, an occasion when the entire population, wearing the finest ornaments that each could afford, began sauntering through the temples of the gods and other public places. The weaver and the carpenter, like the rest, put on their best things, and in squares and courtyards inspected the faces of people dressed to kill. And they caught a glimpse of a princess seated at the window of a stucco palace. The vicinity of her heart was made lovely by a firm bosom with the curve of early youth. Below the slender waist was the graceful swell of the hips. Her hair was black as a rain-cloud, soft, glossy, with a billowy curl. A golden earring danced below an ear that seemed a hammock where Love might swing. Her face had the charm of a new-blown, tender water-lily. Like a dream she took captive the eyes of all, as she sat surrounded by girl friends.

Virtues with beauty dwell:So poets sing,This contradiction notConsidering:That she, so cruel-sweet,Far, far apart,Tortures my body still,Still in my heart.

Or does this explain it?

One heart my darling took;One pines as if to die;One throbs with feeling pure:How many hearts have I?

If all the world from virtue drawsA blessing and a gain,Why should all virtue in my maid,My fawn-eyed maiden, pain?Each guards his home, they say;Yet in my heart you stay,Burning your home alway,Sweet, heartless one!That these—her bosom's youthful pride,Her curling hair, her sinuous side,Her blood-red lip, her waist so small—Should hurt me, is not strange at all:But that her cheeks so clear, so bright,Should torture me, is far from right.Her bosom, like an elephant's brow,Swells, saffron-scented. How, ah, how

May I thereon my bosom lay,When weary love is tired of play,So, fettered in her arms, to keepA vigil waking half, half sleep?

If fate has willedThat I should die,Are there no meansSave that soft eye?

You see my love, though far apart,Before you ever, O my heart!Should vision cease to satisfy,Oh, teach your magic to my eye:For even her presence will distress,If bought by too great loneliness,Since none—the merciful are blest—Of selfishness may stand confessed.She stole his luster from the moon—The moon is dull and cold;The lily's sheen is in her eyes—No charge of theft will hold;The elephant's majesty she seized—Naught knows he of her art;From me the slender maiden took,Ah, strange! a feeling heart.In middle air I see my love,On earth below, in heaven above;In life's last hour, on her I call:She is, like Vishnu, all-in-all.All mental states, the Buddha said,Are transient; he was wrong:My meditations on my loveAre infinitely long.

No friend is he whose angerCompels a timid languor,Nor he whom all must anxiously attend;But when you trust anotherAs if he were your mother,He is no mere acquaintance, but a friend.

Then, after examining the weaver's heart and other members with a hand skilled in detecting symptoms, he said: "Comrade, if my diagnosis is correct, your condition is not the result of fever, but of love."

Now when his friend voluntarily introduced the subject, the weaver sat up in bed and recited a stanza of poetry:

You find repose in sore disasterBy telling things to clear-eyed master,To virtuous servant, gentle friend,Or wife who loves you to the end.

But the weaver replied: "The holy law allows a warrior three wives. The girl may be the daughter of a woman of my caste. That may explain my love for her. What says the king in the play?

Surely, she may become a warrior's bride;Else, why these longings in an honest mind?The motions of a blameless heart decideOf right and wrong, when reason leaves us blind."

Thereupon the carpenter, perceiving his determined purpose, said: "Comrade, what is to be done next?" And the weaver answered: "I don't know. I told you because you are my friend." And to this he would not add a word.

At last the carpenter said: "Rise, bathe, eat. Say farewell to despondency. I will invent something such that you will enjoy with her the delights of love without loss of time."

Then the weaver, hope reviving at his friend's promise, rose and returned to seemly living. And the next day the carpenter came bringing a brand-new mechanical bird, like Garuda, the bird of Vishnu. It was made of wood, was gaily painted in many colors, and had an ingenious arrangement of plugs.

"Comrade," he said to the weaver, "when you​mount the bird and insert a plug, it goes wherever you wish. And the contrivance alights at the spot where you pull out the plug. It is yours. This very night, when people are asleep, adorn your person, disguise yourself as Vishnu—my wit and skill are at your service—mount this Garuda bird, alight on the maidens' balcony of the palace, and make whatever arrangements you like with the princess. I have ascertained that the princess sleeps alone on the palace balcony."

When the carpenter had gone, the weaver spent the rest of the day in a hundred fond imaginings. He took a bath, used incense, powders, ointments, betel, scents for the breath, flowers, and so forth. He put on gay garlands and garments, rich in fragrance. He adorned himself with a diadem and other jewelry. And when the night came clear, he followed the carpenter's instructions.

Meanwhile, the princess lay in her bed alone on the palace balcony bathed in moonbeams. She gazed at the moon, her mind idly dallying with the thought of love. All at once she spied the weaver, disguised as Vishnu and mounted on his heavenly bird. At sight of him she started from her bed, adored his feet, and humbly said: "O Lord, to what end am I honored by this visit? Pray command me. What am I to do?"

To the princess' words the weaver, in dignified and sweetly modulated accents, made stately answer: "Yourself, dear maiden, are the occasion of this visit to earth." "But I am merely a mortal girl," said she.​And he continued: "Nay, you have been my bride, now fallen to earth by reason of a curse. It is I who have so long protected you from contact with a man. I will now wed you by the ceremony used in heaven." And she assented, for she thought: "It is a thing beyond my fondest aspirations." And he married her by the ceremony used in heaven.

So day followed day in the enjoyment of love's delights, each day witnessing a growth in passion. Before dawn the weaver would mount his mechanical Garuda, would bid her farewell with the words: "I depart for Vishnu's heaven," and would always reach his house undetected.

One day the guards at the women's quarters observed indications that the princess was meeting a man, and in fear of their very lives made a report to their master. "O King," they said, "be gracious and confirm our personal security. There is a disclosure to be made." And when the king assented, the guards reported: "O King, we have used anxious care to forbid the entrance of men. Yet indications are observed that Princess Lovely has meetings with a man. Not unto us does it fall to take measures. The king, the king alone is prime mover."

Upon this information the king pondered with troubled spirit:

You are worried when you hear that she is born;Picking husbands makes you anxious and forlorn;When she marries, will her husband be a churl?It is tough to be the father of a girl.

At her birth she steals away her mother's heart;Loving friends, when she is older, fall apart;Even married, she is apt to bring a stain:Having daughters is a business full of pain.

When a poem or daughter comes out,The author is troubled with doubt,With a doubt that his questions betray;Will she reach the right hands?Will she please as she stands?And what will the critics say?

Having thus considered the matter from every point of view, he sought the queen and said: "My dear queen, pray give careful attention to what these chamberlains have to say. Who is this offender whom the death-god seeks today?"

Now when they had related the facts, the queen hastened in great perturbation to the maiden's apartments and found her daughter with lips sore from kissing and with telltale traces on her limbs. And she cried: "You wicked girl! You are a disgrace to the family! How could you throw your character away? Who is the man that comes to you? The death-god has looked upon him. Dreadful as things are, at least tell the truth." Then the princess, with shamefaced, drooping glances, recounted the whole story of the weaver disguised as Vishnu.

Thereupon the queen, with laughing countenance and thrilling in every limb, hastened to the king and​said: "O King, you are indeed fortunate. It is blessèd Vishnu who comes each night in person to our daughter's side. He has married her by the ceremony used in heaven. This very night you and I are to hide in the window niche and have sight of him. But with mortals he does not exchange words."

On hearing this, the king was glad at heart, and somehow lived through the day, which seemed a hundred years. When night came, the king and queen stood hidden in the window niche and waited, their gaze fixed on the sky. Presently the king descried one descending from heaven, mounted on Garuda, grasping the conch-shell, discus, mace, marked with the familiar symbols. And feeling as if drenched by a shower of nectar, he said to the queen: "There is none other on earth so blest as you and I, whose child blessèd Vishnu seeks with love. All the desires nearest our hearts are granted. Now, through the power of our son-in-law, I shall reduce the whole world to subjection."

At this juncture envoys arrived to collect the yearly tribute for King Valor, monarch of the south, lord of nine million, nine hundred thousand villages. But the king, proud of his new relationship with Vishnu, did not show them the customary honor, so that they grew indignant and said: "Come, King! Pay-day is past. Why have you failed to offer the taxes due? It must be that you have recently come into possession of some unanticipated, supernatural power from some​source or other, that you irritate King Valor, who is a flame, a whirlwind, a venomous serpent, a death-god." Upon this the king showed them his bare bottom. And they returned to their own country, exaggerated the matter a hundred thousand fold, and stirred the wrath of their master.

Then the southern monarch, with his troops and retainers, at the head of an army with all four service branches, marched against the king. And he angrily cried:

This king may climb the heavenly mount,May plunge beneath the sea;And yet—I promise it—the wretchShall soon be slain by me.

So Valor reached the country by marches never interrupted, and ravaged it. And the inhabitants who survived the slaughter besieged the palace gate of the king of Sugarcane City, and taunted him. But what he heard did not cause the king the slightest anxiety.

​Then he summoned Lovely and with respectful coaxing said: "Dear child, relying on your husband's power, we have begun hostilities with the enemy. This very night pray speak to blessèd Vishnu when he comes, so that in the morning he may kill this enemy of ours."

So Lovely delivered to him at night her father's message, complete in every particular. On hearing it, the weaver laughed and said: "Dear love, how little a business is this, a mere war with men! Why, in days gone by I have with the greatest ease slain mighty demons by the thousand, and they were armed with magic; there was Hiranyakashipu, and Kansa, and Madhu, and Kaitabha, to name but a few. Go, then, and say to the king: 'Dismiss anxiety. In the morning Vishnu will slay the host of your enemies with his discus.'"

​Meanwhile the weaver, forgetting love's allurements, took counsel with his brooding mind: "What am I to do now? Suppose I mount the machine and fly away, then I shall never meet my pearl, my wife, again. King Valor will drag her from the palace after killing my poor father-in-law. Yet if I accept battle, I shall meet death, who puts an end to every heart's desire. But death is mine if I lose her. Why spin it out? Death, sure death, in either case. It is better, then, to die game. Besides, it is just possible that the enemy, if they see me accepting battle and mounted on Garuda, will think me the genuine Vishnu and will flee. For the proverb says:

Let resolution guide the great,However desperate his state,However grim his hostile fate:By resolution lifted high,With shrewd decision as ally,He grimly sees grim trouble fly."

When the weaver had thus resolved on battle, the genuine Garuda made respectful representations to the genuine Vishnu in heaven. "O Lord," he said, "in a city on earth called Sugarcane is a weaver who, disguising himself as my Lord, has wedded a princess. As a result, a more powerful monarch of the south has marched to extirpate the king of Sugarcane City. Now the weaver today takes his resolution to befriend his father-in-law. This, then, is what I must refer to your decision. If he meets death in battle, then​scandal will arise in the mortal world to the effect that blessèd Vishnu has been killed by the king of the south. Thereafter sacrificial offerings will fail, and other religious ceremonies. Then atheists will destroy the temples of the Lord, while pilgrims of the triple staff, devotees of blessèd Vishnu, will abstain from pious journeyings. Such being the condition of affairs decision rests with my Lord."

Then blessèd Vishnu, after exhaustive meditation, spoke to Garuda: "O King of the wingèd, your reasoning is just. This weaver has a spark of divinity in him. Therefore he must be the slayer of yonder king. And to bring this about, you and I must befriend him. My spirit shall enter his body, you are to inspire his bird, and my discus, his discus." "So be it," said Garuda, assenting.

Hereupon the weaver, inspired by Vishnu, gave instructions to Lovely: "Dear love, when I set out for battle, let all things be made ready that bring a benediction." He then performed auspicious ceremonies, assumed ornaments seemly for battle, and permitted worshipful offerings of yellow pigment, black mustard, flowers, and the like. But when the friend of day-blooming water-lilies, the blessèd, thousand-beamèd sun arose, adorning the bridal brow of the eastern sky, then to the victorious roll of the war-drums, the king issued from the city and drew near the field of battle, then both armies formed in exact array, then the infantry came to blows. At this​moment the weaver, mounted on Garuda, and scattering largess of gold and precious gems, flew from the palace roof toward heaven's vault, while the townspeople, thrilling with wonder, gazed and adored, then beyond the city he hovered above his army, and drew from Vishnu's conch a proud, grand burst of martial sound.

At the blare of the conch, elephants, horses, chariots, foot-soldiers, were dismayed and many garments were fouled. Some with shrill screams fled afar. Some rolled on the ground, all purposive movement paralyzed. Some stood stock still, with terrified gaze fixed unwavering on heaven.

At this point all the gods were drawn to the spot by curiosity to see the fight, and Indra said to Brahma: "Brahma, is this some imp or demon who must needs be slain? For blessèd Vishnu, mounted on Garuda, has gone forth to battle in person." At these words Brahma pondered:

"Lord Vishnu's discus drinks in floodThe hostile demons' gushing blood,And strikes no mortal flat:The jungle lion who can drawThe tusker's life with awful paw,Disdains to crush a gnat.

What means this marvel?" Thus Brahma himself was astonished. That is why I told you:

Not even Brahma sees the endOf well-devised deceit:The weaver, taking Vishnu's formEmbraced the princess sweet.

While the very gods were thus pondering with tense interest, the weaver hurled his discus at Valor. This discus, after cutting the king in twain, returned to his hand. At the sight, all the kings without exception leaped from their vehicles, and with hands, feet, and head drooping in limp obeisance, they implored him who bore the form of Vishnu: "O Lord,

An army, leaderless, is slain.

Be mindful of this and spare our lives. Command us. What are we to do?"

So spoke the whole throng of kings, until he made answer who bore the form of Vishnu: "Your persons are secure henceforth. Whatever commands you receive from the local king, King Stout-Mail, you must on all occasions unhesitatingly perform." And all the kings humbly received his instructions, saying: "Let it be as our Lord commands."

Thereupon the weaver bestowed on Stout-Mail all his rival's wealth, whether men or elephants or chariots or horses or stores of merchandise or other riches, while he himself, having attained the special majesty of those victorious, enjoyed all known delights with the princess.

"And that is why I say:

The gods befriend a man who climbsDetermination's height,. . . .

and the rest of it."

​Having listened to this, Cheek said: "If you, too, are thus climbing determination's height, then proceed to the accomplishment of your desire. Blest be your journeyings."

Thereupon Victor sought the presence of the lion, who said, when Victor had bowed and seated himself: "Why has so long a time passed since you were last visible?" And Victor answered: "O King, urgent business awaits my master today. Hence I am come, the bearer of tidings unwelcome but wholesome. This is not, indeed, the desire of dependents, who yet bring such tidings when they fear the neglect of immediate and necessary action. As the proverb says:

When those appointed to adviseSpeak wholesome truth, they cause surpriseBy this remarkable excessOf passionate devotedness.

And again:

A man is quickly found, O King,To say the sycophantic thing;But one prepared to hear or speakUnwelcome truth, is far to seek."

Hereupon Rusty, believing his words worthy of trust, respectfully asked him: "What do you wish to imply?" And Victor answered: "O King, Lively has crept into your confidence with treasonable purpose. On several occasions he has confidentially whispered in my hearing: 'I have examined the strong points and the weak in your master's power—in his prestige,​his advisers, and his material resources. I plan to kill him and to seize the royal power myself without difficulty.' This very day this Lively person intends to carry out his design. That is why I am here to warn the master whose service is mine by inheritance."

To Rusty this report was more terrible than the fall of a thunderbolt. He sank into a panic-stricken stupor and said not a word. Then Victor, comprehending his state of mind, continued: "This is the great sadness in the discharge of a counselor's duty. There is wisdom in the saying:

When a counselor or kingRises higher than he should,Fortune strives in vain to makeStill her double footing good;Being woman, feels the strain;Soon abandons one of twain.

For, indeed

With broken sliver, loosened tooth,Or counselor who fails in truth,Pull roots and all; so only, griefWill find its permanent relief.

And again:

No king should ever delegateTo one sole man the powers of state:For folly seizes him, then pride,Whereat he grows dissatisfiedWith service; thus impatient grown,He longs to rule the realm alone;And such impatient longings bringHim into plots to kill his king.

A counselor who tramples throughHis business, though his heart be true,May not unheeded go his way,Since future days the present pay.

But such is the nature of kings. As the poet sings:

Some gentle actions born of loveTo thoughts of active hatred move;Some deeds of traitorous offenseWin guerdon of benevolence;The kingly mind can no man tame,As never being twice the same:Such service makes the spirit faint,A hard conundrum for a saint."

On hearing this, Rusty said: "After all, he is my servant. Why should he experience a change of heart toward me?" But Victor answered: "Servant or not, there is nothing conclusive in that. For the proverb says:

The man who loves not royalty,Just serving while he canFind nothing better worth his pains,Is not a loyal man."

"My dear fellow," said the lion, "even so, I cannot find it in my heart to turn against him. For

However false and fickle grown,Once dear is always dear:Who does not love his body, thoughDecrepit, blemished, queer?

His actions may be hard to bear,His speech be harsh to hear;The heart still clings delighted toA person truly dear."

"For that very reason," retorted Victor, "there is a serious flaw in the business of getting on in the world. Observe how this person, upon whom the master has concentrated his consideration to the exclusion of the whole company of animals, now desires to become himself the master. As the verse puts it;

The man of birth or man unknown,If kingly eyes on him aloneAre fixed, aspires to seize the throne.

Therefore, dear though he be, he should be abandoned, being a traitor, like one who has never been dear. There is much wisdom in the saying:

Pursue your aim, abandoningThe fools inclined to sin,The comrades, brothers, friends, or sons,Or honorable kin:You know the song the women sing,We hear it far and near—What good are golden earrings, ifThey lacerate your ear?

"And if you fancy that he will bring benefit because he is bulky of body, you make a perverse mistake. For

How use a proud bull-elephantThat will not serve the king?A man is better, fat or lean,Who does the helpful thing.

Whoever leaves the righteous pathFor some unrighteous course,Will meet calamity in timeAnd suffer much remorse.Whoever will not take from friendsMost excellent advice,Will gladden foes, and falling soon,Will pay his folly's price.

And again:

On wicked trick intently bent,The wilful still lack ear to hear(So blind their mind) of nice and viceThe cause in saws appearing clear.

Furthermore:

Where one will speak and one will heedWhat in the end is well,Although unpleasant at the timeThere riches love to dwell.

And again:

No king's retainer should deviseA fraud, for spies are kingly eyes:Then bear with harsh as kind, O King;The truth is seldom flattering.Tried servants never should be left,And strangers taken;A kingdom's health by no diseaseIs sooner shaken."

Never publicly defameAny once commended name:Broken promises are shame.

"Now I formerly gave him a safe-conduct, since he appeared as a suppliant. How then can he prove ungrateful?" But Victor rejoined:

"No rogue asks reason for his wrath;Nor saint, to tread in kindness' path:By nature's power, the sweet or sourIn sugar dwells or nim-tree's flower.

And again:

Caress a rascal as you will,He was and is a rascal still:All salve- and sweating-treatments failTo take the kink from doggy's tail.

And once again:

Slight kindness shown to lofty soulsA strange enlargement seeks:The moonbeams gleam with whiter lightOn Himalaya's peaks.

While, on the other hand:

The kindness shown to vicious soulsStrange diminution seeks:The gleam of moonbeams is absorbedOn Sooty Mountain's peaks.A hundred benefits are lost,If lavished on the mean;A hundred epigrams, with theirTrue relevance unseen;

A hundred counsels, when a lifeObeys no rigid rule;A hundred cogent argumentsAre lost upon a fool.Lost is every gift that goesWhere it does not fit;Lost is service lavished onSluggish mind and wit;Lost upon ingratitudeIs the kindest plan;Lost is courtesy on oneNot a gentleman.

Or put it this way:

Perfume offered to a corpse,Lotus-planting dry,Weeping in the wood, prolongedRain on alkali,Taking kinks from doggy's tail,Drawl in deafened ear,Decking faces of the blind,Sense for fools to hear.

Or this way:

Milk a bull, and think him someHeavy-uddered cow;Blind to lovely maidens, claspEunuchs anyhow;Seek in shining scraps of quartzLapis lazuli:Do not serve an addlepate,Bidding sense goodbye.

"Ergo, the master must by no means fail to heed my sound advice. And one thing more:​

What tiger, monkey, snake advised,I did not do: and soThat dreadfully ungrateful manHas brought me very low."

"How was that?" asked Rusty. And Victor told the story of

THE UNGRATEFUL MAN