विक्रम चरित (उज्जैन सम्राट् विक्रमादित्य - पराक्रम, न्याय एवं ३२ पुतलियों की कथा सटीक)

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bitter tears of grief as she thus reflected on her situation.
After a short stay she continued her journey. The moun-
tain on the opposite side consisted of several extensive
cultivated fields. As she descended into the valley below,
she observed before her, in a large plain, a city, with a great
lake, on perceiving which she became delighted with the
prospect of so soon approaching human habitations. Though
she was nearly exhausted by her journey, she made towards
this city. It was called Shewpoory, and the king's name
was Shrimunt. She came near a tank outside the fort,
where the women of the city were engaged in drawing water.
She approached them, and seated herself on one of the
ledges of the rocks. Some few of the women from the city
were also seated there, and observing the miserable plight of
the new comer, whose feet were quite lacerated by the stones
over which she had travelled, and her noble air and carriage,
surrounded her and began earnestly to question her. They
asked her where she had come from, and what had brought
her there. Some even said that they suspected, from her
appearance and dress, that she was a person of exalted rank,
and that they were surprised to find her in that plight. The
unfortunate princess replied to all this, that what was
written in her fate she must go through. 'I am a stranger,'
continued she, 'and have none to depend upon but God. I
will live in any condition He may be pleased to allot to
me, because I am his creature.' Some slaves of a famous
actress in the city were also at the well, and accosted the
princess. They wished to know, like the others, where the
princess had come from, and how she contemplated earning
a living for herself,—whether she had any one with her, or
whether she was alone. She replied, 'I have no other
companion but God, who created me, and I am certain He
will provide for me too.' The slaves on their return home
told their mistress of the arrival of a person in the city, of
great beauty and attraction, but, withal, suffering from her
recent travels, and without any ostensible means of support.
Of her beauty they spoke in no measured terms ; and sure

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enough the object of their vulgar admiration was deserving
of any amount of praise. On hearing the tale, the actress
immediately repaired to the well, and there found the
princess seated in the same place, beautiful as Hebe, and as
humble in her demeanour as a slave. The actress inquired
into the condition of the wandering princess, and as to how
she intended disposing of herself. Finding that she had
no visible means of support, nor a home to receive her, the
wily actress offered to admit her into her house, where she
would, she said, find every necessary comfort. The unfor-
tunate princess wished to know, before she proceeded with
the actress, what services would be required of her in return
for the asylum offered. 'Dancing, singing, and the enjoy-
ment which wealth and charms will most assuredly secure
for you,' said the actress. The princess felt hurt at this
giddy and unfeeling talk, and replied that she could not
think of accepting the proffered kindness on the terms
proposed; 'but,' said she, 'I will be content to serve you
if you will give me for my trouble a quantity of undressed
corn sufficient to live upon. I must stipulate, however,
that the services I render to you shall be other than those
you propose. You must teach me to grind and pound
corn, and the other domestic arts involved in housekeeping.
If you promise me this I will follow you.' The actress, not
wishing to enter into an argument there, as both the time
and place were unsuited to the purpose, agreed to the
conditions of the handsome traveller, thinking she would
easily bring her round to her own purposes after she had
tasted the comforts of her home, and otherwise experienced
her bounty and kindness. The princess accordingly accepted
the offer, especially as her condition rendered it imperative
that she should remain in some asylum, at least until
after her confinement, after which she purposed devising
some plan for her future guidance. They accordingly
proceeded together to the residence of the actress. The
princess, however, notwithstanding the importunities of the
actress, could not be persuaded to enter into any of the

81

projects set before her for becoming rich and admired. She
continued performing the menial offices of the household,
which she contrived to master shortly after she had been
admitted into the house, and for which she received in
payment the undressed corn that had been agreed upon,
which she cooked in a separate shed in the yard, and partook
of in all humility. Thus lived this lovely princess, once
the admiration of all, and almost supreme in power, in the
household of this worthless creature, who had neither name,
character, or reputation. That critical period in the life of
a young woman—the birth of her first-born—was now fast
approaching, and the actress made every preparation for the
occasion. In this she was actuated more by certain designs
she had in view than by any motives of humanity. She had
a midwife ready at hand for the emergency that was now
momentarily expected. But we must here relate the
arrangements that had been entered into by the actress
with this personage: she told the midwife that it was her
desire that the princess should be delivered of a daughter,
but that should it prove otherwise, she calculated upon the
discretion and inventive powers of the matron to devise means
for substituting a girl in place of the boy, who must on all
accounts be removed. At the same time she informed the
midwife that the queen of that city was also far advanced in
pregnancy, and might not unreasonably be expected to
complete her time about the same period as the inmate of
her house. She threw out this hint, and left the midwife
to follow up the suggestion, who did not hesitate to enter
into the transaction with all the zeal and willingness which
the generality of her class not unfrequently display in cases
of this nature, however revolting to a conscientious mind,
when backed by the powerful and irresistible argument
of gold, of which the actress in this instance was very
profuse and liberal. She gave her a large purse for
present use, as she said, and with a promise of doubling
or even trebling it in the event of her success. The
object the actress had in view in this transaction we must
L

82
allow to be developed in its own time in the course of the
narrative.
“The king of that city was very virtuous and exceedingly
rich. He had seven children, all daughters, who were very
handsome in their way ; and the only thing that grieved
him was the want of a male child on whom to bestow the
weight of the crown he had worn for a series of years with
credit and honor. Every time his wife, the queen, became
pregnant, he was buoyed up with hope, and as often had
he been disappointed. In the present case his feelings took
another turn : he was enraged to think that he should be
thus baulked in his expectations, and he swore that if the
queen did not present him with a son, he would discard her
as unworthy to share in the honors of his exalted rank and
position. This cruel mandate threw the queen into great
dejection, and she was heard to say, ‘I do not know what
fate may have reserved for me, but should it be the will of
God again to give me a female child, I must strive to
replace the child with a boy.’ She was, however, at a loss
how to effect this desirable but unnatural end. In this
dilemma she thought of consulting the midwife who usually
attended upon her, and who happened to be the same whose
services had been engaged by the actress. She sent for
this trafficker in children, and disclosed to her what so heavily
weighed on her mind. She said that the midwife would
confer a great obligation on her by attending to her request,
and exhorted her to render her assistance without the least
apprehension in a matter of so great moment. ‘The king,
my lord and husband,’ said the disconsolate queen, ‘has
expressly told me that if in this my eighth confinement I do
not present him with a son, he will abandon me, and never
more see me, on which account I am much troubled in
mind, not knowing what will be the issue. I therefore beg
you will, soon after my delivery, in case I shall have given
birth to a female child, exchange it for a male one, which
you must procure in its stead. I hope you will not refuse
to do me this invaluable piece of service; you are well fitted

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to undertake the task, and I will, rest assured, handsomely
reward you for the same.’ This gave much pleasure to
the midwife, as it promised to assist her in the work she
had already undertaken, as well as add considerably to the
profit; and, what was more, it would effectually silence all
suspicions, and close the door against any conjecture that
might ever arise; of which, however, as the two cases at
present stood, there was not the slightest probability. She
did not therefore hesitate to promise her strict attention to
the queen’s proposition, and her unqualified aid in carrying
it out; and went home in high glee, and with a well-filled
purse, ruminating on the good luck that had attended her.
From this day she became very regular in her attendance on
both the queen and the princess, anxiously awaiting the
time of delivery of each, which, by her observation and
experience, she knew could not be far distant in either case.
While thus engaged, the queen sent for her, requiring her
immediate attendance, being taken suddenly ill. Prior to
this, however, the cunning woman had established two of
her own tried creatures in attendance upon these two preg-
nant women,—the queen and the inmate of the actress’
house,—as she knew that without such aid she could ill
perform the project she had in hand, though in the one case,
that of the queen, it was with her full consent and cogni-
sance. The midwife lost no time in attending upon the
queen, and at an early hour on the following morning she
had the pleasure of witnessing, though to the no small
grief of the queen, the birth of as handsome a princess as
she could have wished to see. Not long after this occur-
rence she was sent for by the actress, as the princess was
also taken ill about the same time, and was delivered of a
beautiful prince. As may well be imagined, the midwife
lost no time, aided by the darkness of the night, speedily to
effect her purpose; and as the day dawned upon the inmates
of either house, the exchange had been made, and the
infants laid beside the mothers who had not given them
birth, but who were in future to be considered and acknow-

84
ledged by the world as having done so. The queen was
transported with joy at the successful termination of an
affair fraught with such fearful consequences to her but for
the timely aid rendered by the midwife ; and the only draw-
back to her otherwise happy condition was, that she was
necessarily in the hands of her accomplices, who could by a
single word blast her fame and reputation, and, possibly,
take away her life also. However, she consoled herself
with the hope that money would purchase their silence.
The exchange was so cleverly accomplished that but four
individuals, who were one and all necessarily involved in it,
were cognisant of it,—the queen, the actress, the midwife,
and her confidante. With the queen it was as we have
above related ; not so, however, with the princess in her
lonely dwelling. Unsuspicious as yet of all around, and
fully expecting, according to the prediction she had over-
heard, to give birth to a son, she was grievously disappointed
to find that it was not so, and expressed herself to that
effect to those who were near her. ' I had received an
assurance,' said she, ' from Dhanoo, the astrologer, that I
should bear a son ; and it is indeed a matter of surprise to
me, that it should turn out otherwise.' The positive
manner in which she spoke totally upset the equanimity of
the actress and her accomplice the midwife : their blunder-
ing and foolish explanations roused suspicion in the
princess' mind that some foul play had been practised upon
her during the hours of insensibility into which she had
been plunged at the moment of delivery. ' However,' said
she, ' though I feel perfectly assured that the astrologer
could not have predicted falsely, and though the care and
anxiety with which I had looked forward to a consummation
of my desires have been thus cruelly disregarded by some
unfriendly hands, who have, perhaps, removed from me my
son, yet will I hope that that son will be happy, and live
prosperously ; that the Almighty will, if it pleases Him,
bring us together ; or if He should in his wisdom ordain
otherwise, his will be done ! Into whomsoever's hand my

85
child may have fallen, may the same care be bestowed on
him as I will bestow on this involuntary intruder.' Saying
this, she took up the infant lying beside her in her arms,
and kissed her, naming her Soomutty.

86
CHAPTER VI.
Veytal concludes his narration, and disappears.
" WHEN the king heard the joyful intelligence of a son
being born to him, he ordered it to be proclaimed, not only
throughout the court and its environs, but all over the coun-
try. He also ordered that a distribution of sugar-candy
should be made to his subjects, a variety of alms given to
the poor and indigent, and splendid and gorgeous presents
to his officers. On the thirteenth day after the birth of the
prince, he gave him the name of Bulsain ; and when he
had arrived at a proper age he caused him to be educated
and instructed in all the useful sciences and every other
requisition for a prince, thus enabling him to uphold the
dignity of his elevated rank, and to work his way safely
through the trammels of court intrigue and court obser-
vances. At the age of twelve years, he became so completely
qualified to reign, that his father abdicated the throne in
his favour, and his elevation was received with unani-
mous acclamation. Shortly after this occurrence, the aged
monarch, finding that the infirmities of age and their
attendant inconveniences were fast creeping upon him, took
an affectionate leave of his son, and directed his steps
towards a place dedicated to religion, in order to devote his
remaining years to works of piety and charity. Previous to
the abdication of his throne, and divesting himself of the
trammels of royalty, he left plain and positive injunctions
with his prime minister, diligently and impartially to
discharge the onerous and important duties over which he
was now called upon to exercise his care and experience.
The prince only nominally held the reins of government.
The affairs of state during the regency devolved upon the
minister, who displayed such surprising talent and skill on

87

all subjects, as effectually, within a short time, to win the
affection and esteem of every class. The young and accom-
plished prince, meanwhile, passed his days in prosperity,
content, and happiness. As in the days of the old monarchs,
the actress who has figured in these pages was a frequent
visitor at court, where, by her talent in singing, she estab-
lished a sort of influence over the young king, who
bestowed on her the highest encomiums. One day, the
actress presented herself at court with the princess, whom
she kept at a distance watching her shoes, which she left
behind at the outer door. The prince, seeing the lovely
being before him, (who was no other than his own mother,
as our readers will recollect,) was, as it were, struck by her
charms, and took a great interest in her. He was desirous
of obtaining some knowledge of her, and with that view
addressed himself to the actress. The prince was very
minute in his inquiries, as may be imagined, regarding one
who had in so forcible a manner gained his affections at first
sight, and whose beauty was beyond description. The
wicked actress said she belonged to her, and with an atrocity
unknown in the most barbarous ages, proposed that if his
majesty selected her for his choice, she would answer for
the slave's (as she was pleased to call her) submission.
‘Your majesty,’ continued the actress, ‘need only come to
my dwelling to have your wishes fulfilled in this respect.’
The prince having signified to her his intention of paying
her a visit at the first opportunity, the actress left the
palace, and retired to her lodgings, where she strove by
every artifice to make the unfortunate woman in her power
receive the youthful king with favor. After making known
the intention of the king, she proceeded as follows:—‘I would
advise you to be ready, neatly attired, and receive him with
all due respect; and I doubt not you will in the end find it to
your advantage.’ ‘I do not and cannot possibly feel any
pleasure in the expected visit,’ said the now humble
princess,—really a princess still, which title she cannot be
said by any means to have forfeited as yet,—‘nor do I feel

88
the least sentiment of regard for the king, from the repre-
sentations you have made to me of him. I am contented to
remain in my present condition ; and, having passed all the
time I have been in this country in your service, I hope you
will not give me the pain of speaking ill of you, which your
present conduct, in insulting me by such impious and wicked
proposals, will lead me to. There is, permit me to say,
great and daring impiety in proposing to me what you do ;
and you will pardon me if I refuse to hear anything more
you can advance on such an odious subject, which can only
have the painful effect of renewing my griefs.' For a time
the actress was silenced ; having, however, made everything
ready for the occasion of the king's reception, she returned
to the attack. ‘If you will not,’ said she, ‘cheerfully and
at once comply with my instructions, I will compel you to
accept the king’s proposals, as he has declared that you are
the choice and object of his desires, and he is not likely to
consent to be thwarted in them.’ The unfortunate victim
of this ruthless persecution in vain tried to dissuade the
actress from her vile purpose. At last, finding it of no
avail to argue with her on the enormity of the crime she
meditated, she resolved to let things take their course, fully
determined never on any account to prostitute her person.
She even thought of endeavouring to excite the king’s com-
passion by appealing to his generosity, and by representing to
him that a son whom she mourned was of the same age as
himself, which she thought might induce him to look upon
her in the light of a mother. As this idea crossed her
mind, she felt a yearning of the heart towards this youthful
king, such as mothers alone can feel ; and a faint whisper
within her told her that it might be—that it was her long-
lost son ! The age, the mien, and the resemblance to her
husband, all tended to confirm her suspicions. ‘I will, at
all events, relate the circumstance to him,’ thought she,
‘and thus see if he is worthy of such a noble father and so
chaste a mother.’ This idea made her, instead of wishing
him away, long for his arrival. She accordingly went up

89

to her calculating mistress, as we must no doubt call her,
and expressed her willingness to receive the king. The
actress became quite enraptured at the turn affairs had
taken, and lavished her praise profusely on the princess, who
was now little better than—in fact was, her slave.
“ The king spent the day, as usual, in the affairs of his
state, and at night he set out with a choice retinue for the
house of the actress, picturing to himself how much he
would enjoy the society and person of the dazzling object of
his sudden affection. He had not, however, gone many
steps, when he heard the unwelcome chirping of the bird
Pingla, which boded disappointment. That was a supersti-
tious time, and the king himself was not exempt from a
belief in such omens. He was therefore much annoyed
at this opposition, and, instead of proceeding onwards,
returned to the palace to consult his astrologers. He called
one of the best among them, and acquainted him with the
private mission on which he had been bent, and the sign he
had received. The astrologer's reply was to the effect that
in a person of his rank and position so flagrant an act of
injustice and crime as he contemplated would not be per-
mitted. The king, on hearing this, put off the visit until
the following night, and retired to rest in great dudgeon.
“ The actress in the mean while had prepared everything,
fully expecting that the king would honor her with a visit
that night, but she was doomed to be disappointed. She
kept looking out of the windows of her dwelling continually,
and thus remained until the night was far advanced, when,
finding that there was no longer any likelihood of the king's
appearance, she thought he had perhaps only declared his
intention with a view to make fun of her, at which she was
greatly grieved. She at length retired for the night, not to
sleep, however, for she was too much agitated in her mind,
but to devise means to bring about her wishes. As soon as
the morning dawned she was up and dressed, ready to
proceed to the palace, to ascertain if possible the cause of the
disappointment she had experienced the previous night. On
M

90
appearing before the king, and after the usual ceremonials,
she ventured to touch upon the subject. The king affected
much sorrow at having disappointed her, but said it was
owing solely to the pressure of business involved in his
kingly office,—that he would allow nothing to impede him
that night, and that she might therefore fully expect him.
She left the palace, quite satisfied with the explanation that
had been vouchsafed to her, in the strongest hope of seeing '
the king in her house that night, and of gaining his coun-
tenance and friendship, which was essential, she thought,
to her future aggrandisement. At night the king, with an
increased flow of spirits, directed his steps, with the same
select retinue that had attended him the previous night, to
the abode of the wily actress, but, to his great astonish-
ment and utter dismay, he met with the same obstruction
to his advance as on the former occasion. He therefore had
to go back to the palace again, and defer the realisation
of his wishes until another and more propitious occasion.
“The actress, as before, awaited the coming of the king
in anxious expectation. She re-arranged her rooms, and
prepared everything for his reception, but again was she
disappointed. She was outrageously angry at this second
trick played upon her, as she thought, and was more rest-
less than ever that night. However, as it was a mighty
king she had to do with, she thought it would be neither
wise nor discreet in her to vent her rage, or even by any
means to let the king perceive it; so she dressed herself as
usual, bestowing more than ordinary care on her toilette,
and, putting on one of her deceptive guises, though all was
a turbulent chaos within, proceeded to the court. When
she was ushered into the private apartment of the king,
where she invariably obtained an audience, she thus
addressed him, ‘Your majesty is well aware that your
subjects generally are not addicted to uttering falsehoods ;
but if the king, who is considered to be just in all his dealings,
commits this offence, no one dare interrogate him as to its
justice or otherwise, even if it could be possibly justifiable,

91
which I am far from thinking it can be. The public credit,
however, will be lost, whatever semblance of it may be
preserved in the presence of power and authority.' The
king was in a good humour, and she took advantage of it.
He smiled at her freedom of speech, and in the most
complacent manner replied, 'Do not be vexed; compose
yourself and go home. I will positively be with you this
night.' The actress retired, and as evening drew on, the
king again, after the labours of the day, bent his steps
towards the actress' house. On his way his mind was
occupied with nothing but the pleasurable moments he
should enjoy with the handsome creature he was about to
visit, whom he never for a moment suspected to be his
mother. As he was thus wending his way, regardless of
all external objects, he trod accidentally on the tail of a
calf that was lying in his way, who, on being hurt, set up a
roaring noise. The mother, who was hard by, was alarmed
at the cry, and said fiercely, in articulate sounds, 'Silence,
my child! the hurt you have now received proceeds from
the indifference produced by the intoxicating passion of
lust. The king, with blind fatality, and overcome by an
inhuman passion, is thus rushing on his own destruction:
he is now going to meet his own mother, with unworthy and
criminal intentions! Is it to be wondered at, then, that he
should in this mad adventure be regardless of those he may
injure in his wild precipitancy?' The king trembled like
an aspen on hearing these words proceed from a dumb
animal. He pondered long on their import. 'During the
last two days,' thought he 'I found the bird Pingla obstruct-
ing my way with its discordant chirpings, and to-day has
happened what is in itself a miracle—a dumb animal
speaking! Surely there must be some mystery involved
in all this!' He for a moment suspended, by an herculean
effort, all the workings of his passionate heart, and was
gradually led into thinking in the light of a mother of the
woman he was going to meet, as the cow had in a most
convincing manner pronounced her to be. He was deter-

92

mined now, more than ever, to go and see her, and inquire
into her history ; so he kept on his course until he arrived
at the house of the actress, who was in readiness to receive
him, and to conduct him to the room which had been
prepared expressly for his majesty. The princess, or, to be
more exact, the king's mother, from a conscious rectitude
of purpose, and from the previous argument she had entered
into with herself, neither dreaded the actress nor yet the
approaching meeting. She waited in an apartment ready
to receive the king, seated on a couch of downy softness,
and had her room-door bolted to prevent unauthorised
intrusion. As soon as the king entered the house, which
displayed all the riches of the actress, he was received with
every demonstration of joy and respect due to him ; but,
as may well be supposed, the serious turn the king's mind
had taken. prevented his bestowing anything like the appro-
bation the actress had been led to expect from his previous
conduct. He merely said to her, in rather a stern voice,
' Where is your beautiful and interesting attendant ?' upon
which she ushered him into the interior of the house, and
to the door of the princess' apartment, which they found
fastened. The prince, then, without a moment's hesita-
tion, cried out, ' Oh, mother—my dear and accomplished
mother !—open the door ; I am impatient to know and to
speak to you, and have come to ascertain your history. I
assure you I have not come, as you have been led to sup-
pose, with any unworthy intentions.' At these words, so
contrary to what she had expected, the actress was much
surprised, and a trembling suddenly came upon her, but
she dared not give way to her feelings in the presence of
the king. The princess, or attendant, as she was commonly
called, now giving thanks to God for the change in her
position, and for the proof, as it were, of the prediction of
the astrologer, rose from her seat and instantly opened the
door to admit her son,—for that the king was her son she
was now thoroughly convinced.
' The king, on entering, with great respect in his manner

93
seated himself beside the handsome attendant, and thus
began : ‘ Be so kind as to relate to me your history—who
you are, and your reasons for lodging in the house of this
disreputable person. Are you a princess ? Tell me, I
beseech you !’ She sighed, and for a time was bathed in
tears. When she had regained her speech, she addressed
the king as follows :—‘ Oh, king ! I will now lay my unfor-
tunate case before you. I am the daughter of a certain
king, and married the Prince Soorsain, son of King Bhu-
drasain, of the city of Bhadravutty. My husband one day,
being engaged in the pleasure of the chase in an adjoining
wood; became thirsty, and went to a certain lake in order to
quench his thirst : while engaged in drawing the water with
his hands, the water deities took hold of him by the hand
and carried him to their abode, and he is now with them.
While deploring the loss of my husband, I happened to
overhear a prediction by the famous astrologer Dhanoo,
whereupon I was on the point of cursing those who with-
held my husband from me, or who had slain him, not
knowing at the time his exact fate, or what had become of
him. On this the deities suddenly made their appearance
in my apartment, and desired me to stop my malediction,
saying they would restore my husband to me for that night,
under the strict injunction, in support of which they
extracted an oath from me, that I should send him back to
them the next morning. In the morning they appeared and
took him away in their train.’ She then related the
particulars of the treatment she had received from her
father-in-law, how she came into that city and became an
attendant on the actress, together with every subsequent
occurrence. Comparing this tale with what he had heard
from the cow on his way, the king was fully convinced that
the person before him was no other than his mother. He
became so affected at this that he mingled his tears with
those shed by the unfortunate princess. The king turned
to the actress, who was present all the time, and who stood
as one rooted to the spot, and inquired, ‘ Do you know

'94
where I was born?' She started, turned pale, and in an
incoherent manner replied, 'I know your ma—a—jes—ty
was born in the fa—mi—ly of the king whose crown you
now wear.' The king threatened that if she did not speak
the truth he would punish her in the way which he should
deem most advisable. She exhibited the utmost trepidation
at these words, and replied, 'Your majesty wishes to know
the truth;—indeed I am acquainted with nothing more
than what I have already said on the subject; but the
midwife who attended at your majesty's birth will doubtless
be able to supply you with further particulars.' The king
immediately sent for the midwife, and questioned her.
'Tell me,' said he, 'as you value your life, where was I
born? If you prevaricate, or tell any untruths, I will cut off
your nose and ears! Consider then well what you are about
to say.' The midwife, from her first entrance into the
presence of the young sovereign, trembled violently, and the
perspiration oozed out from every pore of her body to such
an extent as well nigh to render it impossible for her to
stand from sheer weakness. For a time she could not find
utterance; but when at length sufficiently recovered, she
said, 'I will obey your majesty's commands, by relating the
whole truth; but you must deign to pass your royal word
that no evil shall befal me if in the course of the relation I
should confess myself to have been guilty of gross miscon-
duct.' The king, in his anxiety to get at the truth, gave
the promise. The midwife then related the whole of the
transaction regarding the exchange of the children which we
have already recorded. Having done so, she prostrated
herself before the now enraged monarch, and notwithstand-
ing the promise of pardon that had been extended to her,
besought him for the love of heaven to forgive the part she
had taken in the dishonest act, being induced thereto, she
said, by the earnest entreaty of the queen. She implored
his clemency, not only for herself, but for all concerned in
the nefarious business. The princess, who had been all the
time an attentive listener to the tale that had been unfolded

95

by the midwife, now burst into tears, her supposed daughter
joining her, and the king himself was so moved as to catch
the infection. The young king and his mother could not
but trace the hand of Providence throughout the mazes of
the painful story thus unfolded before them, and they blessed
and thanked the Almighty for his goodness in enabling
them to elicit the truth. The princess, giving way to her
feelings, affectionately embraced the king, and kissed him
a thousand times, her demonstrations of affection being as
tenderly returned ; and though they were both bathed in
torrents of tears, yet were they tears of joy. After a short
stay in the house, which was spent in mutual inquiries and
explanations, and in the interchange of those expressions of
solicitude and love, the full depth of which those similarly
placed can alone be said to understand, the king ordered his
state palanquins to be brought for his mother and the
young princess who had so long supplied the place of a child
to her. When the princess, after years of misery and
privation, found herself with her son and helpmate, if we
may so call her adopted child, in the palace together, her
joy became boundless; words cannot do justice to that
which every look, every movement, and every attitude
displayed. She was happy—supremely happy !—the only
thing that helped, perhaps, to cast a cloud on the sunshine
that now shone over all, was the absence of her dear lord
and husband; and even in such moments she might be
said to find consolation, for she knew that he was well in
health, and in perfect safety.
" Next morning, the king called his minister, and without
at all acquainting him with his intentions, directed him to
assume the reins of government during an absence which
he contemplated. He said he trusted to his integrity and
ability, for which he was deservedly famed. In all his
decisions he directed him to be guided by the strictest
impartiality, equity, and justice. He was going, he said,
to settle an important affair, which would take at least a
month. He also ordered that whatever preparations might

96

be necessary for the journey should be made as speedily as
possible. When all was ready, he, with his mother and
sister, (for so we shall call them for brevity's sake,) and a
small retinue, set out for the plain where his father Soorsain
had been taken away by the water deities. When he came
to the lake he gave directions for encamping there, and his
pavilion and the tents of the retinue were immediately
pitched on the banks ; after which the king called together a
number of hermits, brahmins, and other devout persons, to
whom, when they had all assembled, he stated the whole
case, requesting at the same time their advice as to how he
was to get his father Soorsain back from the abode of the
water fairies. The brahmins proposed that certain offerings
should be made to fire, close to the lake, for which purpose
they caused a pit to be dug to hold the sacred embers.
They then entered upon a profound meditation, each person
being engaged in performing the respective part allotted to
him. This lasted for nine days. In order to propitiate the
deities, at the close of the sacrifice they set apart certain
pure trees and clarified butter, which they burnt in the
sacrificial fire ; but the deities not appearing particularly
favorable to Prince Bulsain, he took a knife in his hand,
and, after calling upon God, began to slice the flesh off his
arms, and to cast it into the burning flames. The deities
still seeming indifferent to his prayers, in a most humble
manner, and after deep meditation, he appealed to the
Almighty, and raised his hand to sever his head from his
body ; but lo ! the deities instantly appeared in the sky,
saying, ' Oh, prince ! ask what you will ; we can refuse you
nothing, for we are pleased with your generous exploit.'
The prince answered them, ' If you are pleased with me,
give me King Soorsain, my honored father !' They
immediately disappeared and released Soorsain, who coming
suddenly from the lake, first embraced Bulsain, his son,
and then prostrated himself at the feet of the pious men
there assembled. The princess now suddenly emerged
from among her attendants and waiting-women, and, after

97
embracing her husband, prostrated herself at his feet. The
rejoicings at their reunion were universal.
“After the sensation created by this event had some-
what subsided, King Bulsain, with unexampled liberality,
rewarded the devout persons there assembled with grants
in land and money; and, having been sumptuously
regaled, they set out to their respective abodes, after having
bestowed their prayers and benedictions on the kingly
donor. Shortly after, King Bulsain ordered the tents to be
struck, and preparations made to commence their journey
homeward. They began their march with every sign of
joy, and with great military display. When they approached
the city of Shewpoory, the minister, who had received notice
of the advance of his royal master, went with the principal
nobles of the court to receive him; and they entered the
city amid loud shouts of welcome. Prince Soorsain, owing to
the anxiety he had undergone, appeared but as the shadow
of his former self, so that it can scarcely be wondered at
that he showed the effects of it in his personal appearance.
On this account it was resolved that, until he should have
perfectly recovered his health and strength, he should take
up his residence with his son, King Bulsain.
“Some few months after, Prince Soorsain prepared to
return to the city of Bhadravutty, having made his son
acquainted with his intention. The latter immediately
ordered preparations to be made on an extensive scale; and,
when all was in readiness, Prince Soorsain set out with his
wife and son. When they drew nigh to the capital, the
officers of King Bhudrasain’s court became alarmed, and in
great terror informed the king that King Bulsain’s army
was approaching, apparently with hostile intent. ‘Knowing,’
said they, ‘that your majesty is not at the present time
possessed of a sufficient force to repel the invaders, and
that Prince Soorsain is deceased, King Bulsain has taken
advantage of it. Now, we would advise your majesty to
collect, with as little delay as possible, as many of your
subjects as you can, in order to meet this formidable army.’
N

98
King Bhudrasain was astounded at the announcement of an
invading army being in the outskirts of the town, and he
knew from experience that no hastily-concerted measures
could be of any use in repelling the attacks of a strong and
disciplined foe. However, the minister had in the mean
time collected a large number of men, and, with some few
of the regular troops to back them, he determined to proceed,
as he said, to meet the invading force, and ascertain the
cause of their wanton aggression. He therefore appeared
before the king, prostrated himself at the foot of the throne,
and obtained the royal authority to go on his mission.
" Prince Bulsain observing the army of his grandsire
approaching in warlike array towards him, was convinced
that the formidable appearance his men presented 'was the
cause of some alarm in the country. He therefore directed
a letter to be written, containing full particulars, and
despatched it by a trusty messenger, praying that his
majesty would recal his army, and be graciously pleased to
favor his son Soorsain and his grandson Bulsain with an
interview. The messenger to whom this letter was entrusted
gallopped away in advance, and came up to King Bhudra-
sain's minister, who was on his way with his force to meet
the supposed enemy. The messenger desired to be presented
without delay to the king his master, as he had a letter of
great importance to deliver to him personally ; he also
communicated to the minister verbally what the presence
of the great army outside meant. The minister of Bhudra-
sain was overjoyed, and he lost no time in directing an
officer to conduct the bearer of the letter into the presence
of the king, telling him not to lose a word of what his
majesty might say. The officer and the messenger then
proceeded together, and, after having traversed the city, they
arrived at the magnificent palace of King Bhudrasain. He
was seated in the council chamber, deeply engaged in
discussing with his courtiers the reason of the sudden
appearance of so formidable a force as he had been informed
of. The messenger was immediately ushered into the king's