The Panchatantra (Purnabhadra's Recension of 1199 CE)

Front matter

THE PANCHATANTRA

The University of Chicago Press, Chicago 37 Cambridge University Press, London, N.W. 1, England The University of Toronto Press, Toronto 5, Canada

Published 1925. Sixth Impression 1955. Composed and printed by The University of Chicago Press, Chicago, Illinois, U.S.A.

front matter

The Panchatantra, one of the world's great collections of tales was gathered together in India in the Vale of Kashmir, over 2,000 years ago. Told, so the story goes, to a king's three blockhead sons, the fables have ever since traveled the world, illustrating wise conduct of life through the storyteller's art.

Witty, wise, shrewd, full of life and humor, the animal-actors in these tales present life filled with sources of lasting joy. The stories are splendid as pure narrative; the verses are captivating and sophisticated. Here, translated from the Sanskrit, they charm the reader with their oriental flavor and spirit.

About the Author

Translator's Introduction

INTRODUCTIONS

TRANSLATOR'S INTRODUCTION I

One Vishnusharman, shrewdly gleaning All worldly wisdom's inner meaning, In these five books the charm compresses Of all such books the world possesses.

Introduction to the Panchatantra

The Panchatantra contains the most widely known stories in the world. If it were further declared that the Panchatantra is the best collection of stories in the world, the assertion could hardly be disproved, and would probably command the assent of those possessing the knowledge for a judgment. Assuming varied forms in their native India, then traveling in translations, and translations of translations, through Persia, Arabia, Syria, and the civilized countries of Europe, these stories have, for more than twenty centuries, brought delight to hundreds of millions.

Since the stories gathered in the Panchatantra are very ancient, and since they can no longer be ascribed to their respective authors, it is not possible to give an accurate report of their genesis, while much in their subsequent history will always remain obscure. Dr. Hertel, the learned and painstaking editor of the text used by the present translator, believes that the original work was composed in Kashmir, about 200 B.C. At this date, however, many of the individual stories were already ancient. He then enumerates no less than twenty-five recensions of the work in India. The text here translated is late, dating from the year 1199 A.D.

It is not here intended to summarize the history of these stories in India, nor their travels through the Near East and through Europe. The story is attractive—whose interest is not awakened by learning, for example, that in this work he makes the acquaintance of one of La Fontaine's important sources? Yet here, as elsewhere, the work of the "scholars" has been of somewhat doubtful value, diverting attention from the primary to the secondary, from literature itself to facts, more or less important, about literature. The present version has not been made by a scholar, but the opposite of a scholar, a lover of good books, eager, so far as his powers permit, to extend an accurate and joyful acquaintance with the world's masterpieces. He will therefore not endeavor to tell the history of the Panchatantra, but to tell what the Panchatantra is.

II

Whoever learns the work by heart, Or through the story-teller's art Becomes acquainted, His life by sad defeat—although The king of heaven be his foe— Is never tainted. —Introduction to the Panchatantra

The Panchatantra is a niti-shastra, or textbook of niti. The word niti means roughly "the wise conduct of life." Western civilization must endure a certain shame in realizing that no precise equivalent of the term is found in English, French, Latin, or Greek. Many words are therefore necessary to explain what niti is, though the idea, once grasped, is clear, important, and satisfying.

First of all, niti presupposes that one has considered, and rejected, the possibility of living as a saint. It can be practiced only by a social being, and represents an admirable attempt to answer the insistent question how to win the utmost possible joy from life in the world of men.

The negative foundation is security. For example, if one is a mouse, his dwelling must contain recesses beyond the reach of a cat's paw. Pleasant stanzas concerning the necessity of security are scattered throughout the work. Thus:

The poor are in peculiar need

Of being secret when they feed;

The lion killed the ram who could

Not check his appetite for food.

or again:

In houses where no snakes are found,

One sleeps; or where the snakes are bound:

But perfect rest is hard to win

With serpents bobbing out and in.

The mere negative foundation of security requires considerable exercise of intelligence, since the world swarms with rascals, and no sensible man can imagine them capable of reformation.

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

Yet roguery can be defeated; for by its nature it is stupid.

Since scamp and sneak and snake So often undertake A plan that does not thrive, The world wags on, alive.

Having made provision for security, in the realization that

A man to thrive Must keep alive,

one faces the necessity of having money. The Panchatantra, being very wise, never falls into the vulgar error of supposing money to be important. Money must be there, in reasonable amount, because it is unimportant, and what wise man permits things unimportant to occupy his mind? Time and again the Panchatantra insists on the misery of poverty, with greatest detail in the story of "Gold's Gloom" in the second book, never perhaps with more point than in the stanza:

A beggar to the graveyard hied And there "Friend corpse, arise," he cried; One moment lift my heavy weight Of poverty; for I of late

Grow weary, and desire instead Your comfort; you are good and dead." The corpse was silent. He was sure 'Twas better to be dead than poor.

Needless to say, worldly property need not be, indeed should not be, too extensive, since it has no value in possession, but only in use:

In case of horse or book or sword, Of woman, man or lute or word, The use or uselessness depends On qualities the user lends.

Now for the positive content of niti. Granted security and freedom from degrading worry, then joy results from three occupations—from resolute, yet circumspect, use of the active powers; from intercourse with like-minded friends; and above all, from worthy exercise of the intelligence.

Necessary, to begin with, for the experience of true joy in the world of men, is resolute action. The difficulties are not blinked:

There is no toy Called easy joy; But man must strain To body's pain.

Time and again this note is struck—the difficulty and the inestimable reward of sturdy action. Perhaps the most splendid expression of this essential part of niti is found in the third book, in the words which the crow, Live-Strong, addresses to his king, Cloudy:

A noble purpose to attain Desiderates extended pain, Asks man's full greatness, pluck, and care, And loved ones aiding with a prayer. Yet if it climb to heart's desire, What man of pride and fighting fire, Of passion and of self-esteem Can bear the unaccomplished dream? His heart indignantly is bent (Through its achievement) on content.

Equal stress is laid upon the winning and holding of intelligent friends. The very name of the second book is "The Winning of Friends"; the name of the first book is "The Loss of Friends." Throughout the whole work, we are never permitted to be long oblivious of the rarity, the necessity, and the pricelessness of friendship with the excellent. For, indeed,

The days when meetings do not fail With wise and good Are lovely clearings on the trail Through life's wild wood.

So speaks Slow, the turtle; and Swift, the crow, expresses it thus:

They taste the best of bliss, are good, And find life's truest ends, Who, glad and gladdening, rejoice In love, with loving friends.

Last of all, and in a sense including all else, is the use of the intelligence. Without it, no human joy is possible, nothing beyond animal happiness.

For if there be no mind Debating good and ill, And if religion send No challenge to the will, If only greed be there For some material feast, How draw a line between The man-beast and the beast?

One must have at disposal all valid results of scholarship, yet one must not be a scholar. For

Scholarship is less than sense; Therefore seek intelligence.

One must command a wealth of detailed fact, ever alert to the deceptiveness of seeming fact, since oftentimes

The firefly seems a fire, the sky looks flat; Yet sky and fly are neither this nor that.

One must understand that there is no substitute for judgment, and no end to the reward of discriminating judgment:

To know oneself is hard, to know Wise effort, effort vain; But accurate self-critics are Secure in times of strain.

One must be ever conscious of the past, yet only as it offers material for wisdom, never as an object of brooding regret:

For lost and dead and past The wise have no laments: Between the wise and fools Is just this difference.

This is the lofty consolation offered by a woodpecker to a hen-sparrow whose eggs have been crushed by an elephant with the spring fever. And the whole matter finds its most admirable expression in the noble words of Cheek, the jackal:

What is learning whose attaining Sees no passion wane, no reigning Love and self-control? Does not make the mind a menial Finds in virtue no congenial Path and final goal? Whose attaining is but straining For a name, and never gaining Fame or peace of soul?

This is niti, the harmonious development of the powers of man, a life in which security, prosperity, resolute action, friendship, and good learning are so combined as to produce joy. It is a noble ideal, shaming many tawdry ambitions, many vulgar catchwords of our day. And this noble ideal is presented in an artistic form of perfect fitness, in five books of wise and witty stories, in most of which the actors are animals.

III

Better with the learned dwell, Even though it be in hell Than with vulgar spirits roam Palaces that gods call home.

The word Panchatantra means the "Five Books," the Pentateuch. Each of the five books is independ , consisting of a framing story with numerous inserted stories, told, as fit circumstances arise, by one or another of the characters in the main narrative. Thus, the first book relates the broken friendship of the lion Rusty and the bull Lively, with some thirty inserted stories, told for the most part by the two jackals, Victor and Cheek. The second book has as its framing story the tale of the friendship of the crow, the mouse, the turtle, and the deer, whose names are Swift, Gold, Slow, and Spot. The third book has as framing story the war between crows and owls.

These three books are of considerable length and show great skill in construction. A somewhat different impression is left by Books IV and V. The framing story of Book IV, the tale of the monkey and the crocodile, has less interest than the inserted stories, while Book V can hardly be said to have a framing story, and it ends with a couple of grotesque tales, somewhat different in character from the others. These two shorter books, in spite of the charm of their contents, have the appearance of being addenda, and in some of the older recensions are reduced in bulk to the verge of extinction.

The device of the framing story is familiar in oriental works, the instance best known to Europeans being that of the Arabian Nights. Equally characteristic is the use of epigrammatic verses by the actors in the various tales. These verses are for the most part quoted from sacred writings or other sources of dignity and authority. It is as if the animals in some English beast-fable were to justify their actions by quotations from Shakespeare and the Bible. These wise verses it is which make the real character of the Panchatantra. The stories, indeed, are charming when regarded as pure narrative; but it is the beauty, wisdom, and wit of the verses which lift the Panchatantra far above the level of the best story-books. It hardly needs to be added that in the present version, verse is always rendered by verse, prose by prose. The titles of the individual stories, however, have been supplied by the translator, since the original has none.

The large majority of the actors are animals, who have, of course, a fairly constant character. Thus, the lion is strong but dull of wit, the jackal crafty, the heron stupid, the cat a hypocrite. The animal actors present, far more vividly and more urbanely than men could do, the view of life here recommended—a view shrewd, undeceived, and free of all sentimentality; a view that, piercing the humbug of every false ideal, reveals with incomparable wit the sources of lasting joy.

Arthur W. Ryder

Introduction

INTRODUCTION

One Vishnusharman, shrewdly gleaning All worldly wisdom's inner meaning, In these five books the charm compresses Of all such books the world possesses.

And this is how it happened.

In the southern country is a city called Maidens' Delight. There lived a king named Immortal-Power. He was familiar with all the works treating of the wise conduct of life. His feet were made dazzling by the tangle of rays of light from jewels in the diadems of mighty kings who knelt before him. He had reached the far shore of all the arts that embellish life. This king had three sons. Their names were Rich-Power, Fierce-Power, Endless-Power, and they were supreme blockheads.

Now when the king perceived that they were hostile to education, he summoned his counselors and said: "Gentlemen, it is known to you that these sons of mine, being hostile to education, are lacking in discernment. So when I behold them, my kingdom brings me no happiness, though all external thorns are drawn. For there is wisdom in the proverb:

Of sons unborn, or dead, or fools, Unborn or dead will do:

They cause a little grief, no doubt; But fools, a long life through.

And again:

To what good purpose can a cow That brings no calf nor milk, be bent? Or why beget a son who proves A dunce and disobedient?

Some means must therefore be devised to awaken their intelligence."

And they, one after another, replied: "O King, first one learns grammar, in twelve years. If this subject has somehow been mastered, then one masters the books on religion and practical life. Then the intelligence awakens."

But one of their number, a counselor named Keen, said: "O King, the duration of life is limited, and the verbal sciences require much time for mastery. Therefore let some kind of epitome be devised to wake their intelligence. There is a proverb that says:

Since verbal science has no final end, Since life is short, and obstacles impend, Let central facts be picked and firmly fixed, As swans extract the milk with water mixed.

Now there is a Brahman here named Vishnusharman, with a reputation for competence in numerous sciences. Intrust the princes to him. He will certainly make them intelligent in a twinkling."

When the king had listened to this, he summoned Vishnusharman and said: "Holy sir, as a favor to me you must make these princes incomparable masters of the art of practical life. In return, I will bestow upon you a hundred land-grants."

And Vishnusharman made answer to the king: "O King, listen. Here is the plain truth. I am not the man to sell good learning for a hundred land-grants. But if I do not, in six months' time, make the boys acquainted with the art of intelligent living, I will give up my own name. Let us cut the matter short. Listen to my lion-roar. My boasting arises from no greed for cash. Besides, I have no use for money; I am eighty years old, and all the objects of sensual desire have lost their charm. But in order that your request may be granted, I will show a sporting spirit in reference to artistic matters. Make a note of the date. If I fail to render your sons, in six months' time, incomparable masters of the art of intelligent living, then His Majesty is at liberty to show me His Majestic bare bottom."

When the king, surrounded by his counselors, had listened to the Brahman's highly unconventional promise, he was penetrated with wonder, intrusted the princes to him, and experienced supreme content.

Meanwhile, Vishnusharman took the boys, went home, and made them learn by heart five books which he composed and called: (I) "The Loss of Friends," (II) "The Winning of Friends," (III) "Crows and Owls," (IV) "Loss of Gains," (V) "Ill-considered Action."

These the princes learned, and in six months' time they answered the prescription. Since that day this work on the art of intelligent living, called Panchatantra, or the "Five Books," has traveled the world, aiming at the awakening of intelligence in the young. To sum the matter up:

Whoever learns the work by heart, Or through the story-teller's art Becomes acquainted, His life by sad defeat—although The king of heaven be his foe— Is never tainted.

The Loss of Friends

BOOK I

THE LOSS OF FRIENDS

BOOK I THE LOSS OF FRIENDS

Here then begins Book I, called "The Loss of Friends." The first verse runs:

The forest lion and the bull Were linked in friendship, growing, full: A jackal then estranged the friends For greedy and malicious ends.

And this is how it happened.

In the southern country was a city called Maidens' Delight. It rivaled the city of heaven's King, so abounding in every urban excellence as to form the central jewel of Earth's diadem. Its contour was like that of Kailasa Peak. Its gates and palaces were stocked with machines, missile weapons, and chariots in great variety. Its central portal, massive as Indrakila Mountain, was fitted with bolt and bar, panel and arch, all formidable, impressive, solid. Its numerous temples lifted their firm bulk near spacious squares and crossings. It wore a moat-girdled zone of walls that recalled the high-uplifted Himalayas.

In this city lived a merchant named Increase. He possessed a heap of numerous virtues, and a heap of money, a result of the accumulation of merit in earlier lives.

As he once pondered in the dead of night, his conclusions took this form: "Even an abundant store of wealth, if pecked at, sinks together like a pile of soot. A very little, if added to, grows like an ant-hill. Hence, even though money be abundant, it should be increased. Riches unearned should be earned. What is earned, should be guarded. What is guarded, should be enlarged and heedfully invested. Money, even if hoarded in commonplace fashion, is likely to go in a flash, the hindrances being many. Money unemployed when opportunities arise, is the same as money unpossessed. Therefore, money once acquired should be guarded, increased, employed. As the proverb says:

Release the money you have earned; So keep it safely still: The surplus water of a tank Must find a way to spill.

Wild elephants are caught by tame; With capital it is the same: In business, beggars have no scope Whose stock-in-trade is empty hope.

If any fail to use his fate For joy in this or future state, His riches serve as foolish fetters; He simply keeps them for his betters."

Having thus set his mind in order, he collected merchandise bound for the city of Mathura, assembled his servants, and after saying farewell to his parents when asterism and lunar station were aus , set forth from the city, with his people following and with blare of conch-shell and beat of drum preceding. At the first water he bade his friends turn back, while he proceeded.

To bear the yoke he had two bulls of good omen. Their names were Joyful and Lively; they looked like white clouds, and their chests were girded with golden bells.

Presently he reached a forest lovely with grisleas, acacias, dhaks, and sals, densely planted with other trees of charming aspect; fearsome with elephants, wild oxen, buffaloes, deer, grunting-cows, boars, tigers, leopards, and bears; abounding in water that issued from the flanks of mountains; rich in caves and thickets.

Here the bull Lively was overcome, partly by the excessive weight of the wagon, partly because one foot sank helpless where far-flung water from cascades made a muddy spot. At this spot the bull somehow snapped the yoke and sank in a heap. When the driver saw that he was down, he jumped excitedly from the wagon, ran to the merchant not far away, and humbly bowing, said: "Oh, my lord! Lively was wearied by the trip, and sank in the mud."

On hearing this, merchant Increase was deeply dejected. He halted for five nights, but when the poor bull did not return to health, he left caretakers with a supply of fodder, and said: "You must join me later, bringing Lively, if he lives; if he dies, after per the last sad rites." Having given these directions, he started for his destination.

On the next day, the men, fearing the many drawbacks of the forest, started also and made a false report to their master. "Poor Lively died," they said, "and we performed the last sad rites with fire and everything else." And the merchant, feeling grieved for a mere moment, out of gratitude performed a ceremony that included rites for the departed, then journeyed without hindrance to Mathura.

In the meantime, Lively, since his fate willed it and further life was predestined, hobbled step by step to the bank of the Jumna, his body invigorated by a mist of spray from the cascades. There he browsed on the emerald tips of grass-blades, and in a few days grew plump as Shiva's bull, high-humped, and full of energy. Every day he tore the tops of ant-hills with goring horns, and frisked like an elephant.

But one day a lion named Rusty, with a retinue of all kinds of animals, came down to the bank of the Jumna for water. There he heard Lively's prodigious bellow. The sound troubled his heart exceedingly, but he concealed his inner feelings while beneath a spreading banyan tree he drew up his company in what is called the Circle of Four.

Now the divisions of the Circle of Four are given as: (1) the lion, (2) the lion's guard, (3) the understrappers, (4) the menials. In all cities, capitals, towns, hamlets, market-centers, settlements, border , land-grants, monasteries, and communities there is just one occupant of the lion's post. Relatively few are active as the lion's guard. The understrappers are the indiscriminate throng. The menials are posted on the outskirts. The three classes are each divided into members high, middle, and low.

Now Rusty, with counselors and intimates, enjoyed a kingship of the following order. His royal office, though lacking the pomp of umbrella, flyflap, fan, vehicle, and amorous display, was held erect by sheer pride in the sentiment of unaffected pluck. It showed unbroken haughtiness and abounding self-esteem. It manifested a native zeal for unchecked power that brooked no rival. It was ignorant of cringing speech, which it delegated to those who like that sort of thing. It functioned by means of impatience, wrath, haste, and hauteur. Its manly goal was fearlessness, disdaining fawning, strange to obsequiousness, unalarmed. It made use of no wheedling artifices, but glittered in its reliance on enterprise, valor, dignity. It was independent, unattached, free from selfish worry. It advertised the reward of manliness by its pleasure in benefiting others. It was unconquered, free from constraint and meanness, while it had no thought of elaborating defensive works. It kept no account of revenue and expenditure. It knew no deviousness nor time-serving, but was prickly with the energy earned by loftiness of spirit. It wasted no deliberation on the conventional six expedients, nor did it hoard weapons or jewelry. It had an uncommon appetite for power, never adopted subterfuges, was never an object of suspicion. It paid no heed to wives or ambush-layers, to their torrents of tears or their squeals. It was without reproach. It had no artificial training in the use of weapons, but it did not disappoint expectations. It found satisfactory food and shelter without dependence on servants. It had no timidity about any foreign forest, and no alarms. Its head was high. As the proverb says:

The lion needs, in forest station, No trappings and no education, But lonely power and pride; And all the song his subjects sing, Is in the words: "O King! O King!" No epithet beside.

And again:

The lion needs, for his appointing, No ceremony, no anointing; His deeds of heroism bring Him fortune. Nature crowns him king.

The elephant is the lion's meat, With drops of trickling ichor sweet; Though lack thereof should come to pass, The lion does not nibble grass.

Now Rusty had in his train two jackals, sons of counselors, but out of a job. Their names were Cheek and Victor. These two conferred secretly, and Victor said: "My dear Cheek, just look at our master Rusty. He came this way for water. For what reason does he crouch here so disconsolate?" "Why meddle, my dear fellow?" said Cheek. "There is a saying:

Death pursues the meddling flunkey: Note the wedge-extracting monkey."

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

THE WEDGE-PULLING MONKEY

The Wedge-pulling Monkey

THE WEDGE-PULLING MONKEY

There was a city in a certain region. In a grove near by, a merchant was having a temple built. Each day at the noon hour the foreman and workers would go to the city for lunch.

Now one day a troop of monkeys came upon the half-built temple. There lay a tremendous anjana-log, which a mechanic had begun to split, a wedge of acacia-wood being thrust in at the top.

There the monkeys began their playful frolics upon tree-top, lofty roof, and woodpile. Then one of them, whose doom was near, thoughtlessly bestrode the log, thinking: "Who stuck a wedge in this queer place?" So he seized it with both hands and started to work it loose. Now what happened when the wedge gave at the spot where his private parts entered the cleft, that, sir, you know without being told.

"And that is why I say that meddling should be avoided by the intelligent. And you know," he continued, "that we two pick up a fair living just from his leavings."

"But," said Victor, "how can you give first-rate service merely from a desire for food with no desire for distinction? There is wisdom in the saying:

In hurting foes and helping friends The wise perceive the proper ends Of serving kings. The belly's call To answer, is no job at all.

And again:

When many lives on one depend, Then life is life indeed: A crow, with beak equipped, can fill His belly's selfish need.

If loving kindness be not shown To friends and souls in pain, To teachers, servants, and one's self, What use in life, what gain? A crow will live for many years And eat the offered grain.

A dog is quite contented if He gets a meatless bone, A dirty thing with gristle-strings And marrow-fat alone— And not enough of it at that To still his belly's moan.

The lion scorns the jackal, though Between his paws, to smite The elephant. For everyone, However sad his plight, Demands the recompense that he Esteems his native right.

Dogs wag their tails and fawn and roll, Bare mouth and belly, at your feet: Bull-elephants show self-esteem, Demand much coaxing ere they eat.

A tiny rill Is quick to fill, And quick a mouse's paws; So seedy men Are grateful, when There is but little cause.

For if there be no mind Debating good and ill, And if religion send No challenge to the will, If only greed be there For some material feast, How draw a line between The man-beast and the beast?

Or more accurately yet:

Since cattle draw the plow Through rough and level soil, And bend their patient necks To heavy wagons' toil, Are kind, of sinless birth, And find in grass a feast, How can they be compared With any human beast?"

"But at present," said Cheek, "we two hold no job at court. So why meddle?" "My dear fellow," said Victor, "after a little the jobless man does hold a job. As the saying goes:

The jobless man is hired For careful serving; The holder may be fired, If undeserving.

No character moves up or down At others' smile or others' frown; But honor or contempt on earth Will follow conduct's inner worth.

And once more:

It costs an effort still To carry stones uphill; They tumble in a trice: So virtue, and so vice."

"Well," said Cheek, "what do you wish to imply?" And Victor answered: "You see, our master is frightened, his servants are frightened, and he does not know what to do." "How can you be sure of that?" asked Cheek, and Victor said: "Isn't it plain?

An ox can understand, of course, The spoken word; a driven horse Or elephant, exerts his force;

But men of wisdom can infer Unuttered thought from features' stir— For wit rewards its worshiper.

And again:

From feature, gesture, gait, From twitch, or word, From change in eye or face Is thought inferred.

So by virtue of native intelligence I intend to get him into my power this very day."

"Why," said Cheek, "you do not know how to make yourself useful to a superior. So tell me. How can you establish power over him?"