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Memoirs of a White Elephant

<h5>CHAPTER XIX</h5> <h4>THE HERMIT</h4> The night had fallen rapidly; it was very dark under the thick branches of the trees, which even at midday cast a dense shadow. What was to be done? How was I to obtain succour for the Princess, whom I could now barely see, as she lay motionless on the ground? I raised the upper part of her body very gently with my trunk, and swayed her softly back and forth, and fanned her with my ears—but she did not stir. The thought that she might be dead so horrified me that, without waiting to take breath, I poured forth groans and screams so piercing that they were mistaken for those of a human being—and it was this that finally extricated us from our misfortunes. All at once I saw, far off under the leaves, a little red light that seemed to be advancing. It surely was a lantern, and that meant that here, in the wilderness, there was a human being. I redoubled my cries of distress, and the light approached more rapidly. It was turned in our direction, and I could not see the person who was carrying it. At some distance it stopped, and a feeble, and somewhat tremulous voice called: "Who is it that is moaning? Who is it that disturbs the quiet of the forest by these cries? Can it be this elephant? How happens it that his cries are like those of a man?" I lifted the Princess on my tusks and laid her in the rays of the lantern. "Oh, the poor child!" exclaimed the Voice, and an old man came forward and placed his brown and withered hand over the heart of Parvati. "She has swooned," said he. "Come, follow me. We must lose no time; do you not see that a storm is impending? We must not remain an instant longer under the trees." He began to walk rapidly on, holding the lantern in a way to light the path, on which I followed, carefully carrying the unconscious Princess. We soon reached a great clearing, in the centre of which, leaning against a rock, was a little hut built of wooden planks. "Here we are, this is my dwelling," said the man; "I am only a poor hermit, who has retired in disgust from the world, in order to live and meditate in solitude. I am denuded of all; I possess nothing. But the forest provides me with plants which nourish me. Some of them have wonderful virtues, which I trust will enable me to restore to life this lovely young girl." The hut was so small that I could only thrust my head inside. I placed Parvati on the Hermit's bed of leaves, and he hung up the lantern. He then crushed between his hands an herb that had a pungent odour, which he caused the Princess to inhale, while he rubbed her temples and her wrists. To my great joy Parvati revived; she passed her hands across her eyes, and then, seeing me, she smiled. "Oh! my dear Iravata," exclaimed she: "the terrible serpent did not strangle you! I was so terrified I thought I was dying!" She then related to the Hermit all that had befallen us, and what a friend I had always been to her. He in his turn told how he had heard my cries and hastened to our assistance. He was able to offer the Princess some delicate fruits, which she accepted gladly, as she had eaten nothing all day. "Oh, Holy Man," said she, "is it possible that you live all alone in the depths of this forest? How sad and lonely you must find it!" "No, child," replied he: "those who live in company with their own thoughts are never lonely. Instead of looking only at the life that is now passing, or has passed away—as you do—I look forward to the mystery of the hereafter, to what is to be after death. And I find this enough to occupy every minute of the day and the night!" "Oh, Holy Man," said she: "why do you despise life? To me it seems sweet and full of joy, and my heart sinks at the thought that it cannot last forever!"... A vivid flash of lightning startled the Princess, who shrieked, and hid her face in her hands. I pushed my head further into the door of the hut so as to close the opening and shut out the glare. "Poor little thing!" said the Hermit. "Here I am talking about death and oblivion to this lovely flower that blooms and delights all around her!" He gently removed the hands which she still held clenched before her eyes: "Fear nothing," said he. "We are safe and sheltered here from the violence of the storm." Then, in order to reassure her, and to distract her attention, he added: "If you like, I will tell you a Story, and it will show you why I no longer care for a world where good fortune often attends a thief or a liar, and brings them to honour." "Oh, yes!" said Parvati. "By all means tell me this Story!" "Listen, then," said the Hermit. <hr class="tb" /> "Once upon a time there was a humble Brahman named Harisarman. He was very poor and ignorant, and possessed a numerous family. After being compelled for a long time to make his living by begging, he and his family were received into the household of a rich man named Sthuladatta. The children of Harisarman were employed to drive the cows, herd the sheep, and tend the poultry; his wife worked in the house, and he, himself, was attached to the service of the Master. "One day Sthuladatta gave an entertainment to celebrate the marriage of his daughter, but he omitted to invite Harisarman to the festival. "'Behold!' said Harisarman to his wife: 'I am despised because of my poverty and ignorance. But I shall pretend to be a learned man, in order that Sthuladatta will have respect for me hereafter; and when an opportunity occurs you must say that I am an accomplished Soothsayer.' "Then he took the Bridegroom's horse out of the stable, and went to a distant part of the forest, and hid it. "When the feast was over, and the Bridegroom prepared to return home with his young Bride, his horse was nowhere to be found. The forest was searched, the thickets ransacked; the guests all dispersed in different directions to assist in finding the animal—but no trace of him could be discovered. "Then the wife of Harisarman came forward, and said: "'My husband could have found the horse very easily; he is a learned Soothsayer, and understands the language of the stars. Why do you not inquire of him?' Sthuladatta sent for Harisarman, and said: "'Canst thou tell me where to look for the lost horse?' "Harisarman replied: "'Master, thou hast bidden a host of guests to be present at the marriage of thy daughter; but thou didst not deign to invite me because I am poor. Behold I among all those whom thou hast honoured not one can tell thee where to look for thy son-in-law's horse, and thou art obliged to have recourse to me, whom thou hast treated with contempt! Nevertheless, I am not revengeful; and thanks to my learning, I will be able to inform thee where thou wilt find the horse whom thou seekest.' "He then drew cabalistic signs, and magic circles, and ended by telling the place where he had hidden the horse. "From this moment he was held in great esteem in the household of Sthuladatta. "Not long afterwards a robbery was committed in the Palace of the King; jewels and gems were stolen, and gold carried away. "The King, having heard of Harisarman, ordered him brought to the Palace, and said to him: "'I have heard of thy powers of divination; canst thou reveal to me the names of the wretches who have dared to enter my palace, and steal my treasures?' "Harisarman was very much confused. He bowed low before the King and replied thus: "'Great King, All-powerful Master, thou hast taken me somewhat unawares. But thanks to my great learning, no secret is hidden from my discerning eyes; I discover that which is invisible, and bring to light what others would desire concealed forever. Give me only till to-morrow, in order that I may place myself under the influence of the Stars." "The King had him conducted to a chamber in the Palace, with orders that he was to be permitted to pass the night alone. "Now, the theft had been committed by a Maidservant of the Palace named Dschiva (the Tongue) and by her brother. "Full of uneasiness, and fearing that the supposed Soothsayer would denounce her to the King, Dschiva crept on tiptoe to the chamber occupied by Harisarman, in the hope of overhearing something he might say. The false Soothsayer was as much frightened as she, and uttered loud imprecations on his tongue (dschiva) which had brought such trouble upon him. "He cried out: "Oh, dschiva! (tongue) what have you done through your stupid covetousness!" "Dschiva imagined that these words were addressed to her; she entered the chamber and threw herself at the feet of Harisarman, confessed to him that she had stolen the jewels, implored him not to betray her, promising if he would be silent to bestow on him all the gold which had been taken, and to inform him where she had hidden the jewels. "The next day Harisarman led the King to where the jewels were concealed, but the gold he kept for himself, and said to the King: "'Sire, the thieves in escaping carried with them the gold.' "The King, well-pleased to have recovered his jewels, would have recompensed Harisarman, but was withheld by one of his Councillors, who said: "'All this does not look natural to me, oh, King. How can such learning be possessed by one who has never studied the holy texts? This affair has doubtless been arranged by Harisarman and the robbers. In order to convince me this pretended Soothsayer would have to be put to the test!' "The King consulted for a few minutes with his Councillor, who then went out, and soon returned with a new earthen pot, which was covered by a lid, under which he had placed a live frog. "The King, addressing Harisarman, said: "'If thou canst tell me what this vessel contains all honours shall be paid to thee, if not, thou shalt be put to death for having dared to deceive me!' "Harisarman now gave himself up for lost. Memories, as vivid as lightning-flashes, passed through his mind. He remembered his happy childhood, and his kind father, and how the latter had a pet-name for him, and often would call him "little Frog!" and, not thinking of what he was saying, but speaking to himself (with sufficient distinctness, however, to be heard), he exclaimed: "'Alas! alas!... this pot has caught thee, little Frog! Once thou wert free and happy, but now, how wilt thou escape?' "All those who stood by and heard him supposed that his words were addressed to the frog in the basin. "The test seemed conclusive. "From that day the King honoured Harisarman, loaded him with benefits, and made him a Prince.... "This," said the Hermit, "is a story that shows how there is no justice in the world, and that we should be glad to leave it and seek a better one—even at the price of one's existence!" "Oh, Holy Man," said Parvati, "the history of Harisarman is not finished; and who knows what may have happened to him afterwards? Perhaps he may have experienced a punishment all the more severe from having been delayed. And then he must have suffered from knowing himself to be other than he seemed! from knowing himself to be a liar and a thief, while he was saluted as a scholar and an honest man.... It seems to me that in this world we are always punished for our faults. Behold, what has happened to us to-day! Iravata, the wisest of elephants, for the first time acted without his usual prudence; he went too far into the forest, and I, instead of restraining him, was delighted with the adventure, and encouraged Him to go still further. We have both come near to losing our lives; then the storm overwhelmed us, and here we are, at the dead hour of the night, in the midst of this forest, fearfully far from the palace of Golconda—where, no doubt, my dear parents, distracted with anxiety, are lamenting the absence of their disobedient daughter!" In saying this Parvati's beautiful eyes were full of tears, and as I listened I bent my head in shame, and wept, too. "Do not despair," said the Hermit, who was looking closely at me; "the dangers you have encountered may perhaps have saved you from still greater perils. This Elephant, who has acquired the moral intelligence of humanity, knows very well to what I allude, and he alone is to blame". I trembled in all my members under the searching look he cast upon me, and understanding full well the meaning of his accusing words, my head sank lower and lower. "Let this Elephant take warning," said he: "in approaching mankind through his sentiments and intelligence, he may also become liable to the errors of mankind. I foresee his future. I foresee that he will be unhappy, and that he will be the maker of his own misfortunes, through a sentiment far too human!"... A long silence followed these prophetic words. Parvati was deeply moved, and as for me, I dared not raise my head. I withdrew from the doorway which I had obstructed. And now a lovely moonlight, soft and bright, the colour of emeralds and turquoises, shone into the hut. The storm was over. The full moon had risen and beamed in the sky, where a few clouds still floated. The trees and the flowers, refreshed by the rain, filled the air with fragrance. "Go now, my friends," said the Hermit; "the storm has been of service to you. Those who are waiting for you are not as anxious as they would otherwise have been; believing in the wisdom of the Elephant, in whom they have entire confidence, they will suppose that he sought shelter from the storm, and that it alone has caused your delay. Go, then, the moon shines as bright as day. May the King and Queen of Golconda never learn the truth!"... <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/eleph_005.jpg" width-obs="300" alt="" /></div> <hr class="chap" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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