 |
FIRST MAIDEN.
Provided you let me have half the reward which the god will bestow in return.
SECOND MAIDEN.
To be sure you shall, and that without asking. Are we not one in heart and soul, though divided in body?
[Leans on her friend and plucks a mango-blossom.]
Ah! here is a bud just bursting into flower. It diffuses a delicious perfume, though not yet quite expanded.
[Joining her hands reverentially.]
God of the bow, who with spring's choicest flowers Dost point thy five unerring shafts[91]; to thee I dedicate this blossom; let it serve To barb thy truest arrow; be its mark Some youthful heart that pines to be beloved.
[Throws down a mango-blossom.
CHAMBERLAIN.
[Entering in a hurried manner, angrily.
Hold there, thoughtless woman. What are you about, breaking off those mango-blossoms, when the King has forbidden the celebration of the spring festival?
BOTH MAIDENS. [Alarmed.
Pardon us, kind Sir, we have heard nothing of it.
CHAMBERLAIN.
You have heard nothing of it? Why, all the vernal plants and shrubs, and the very birds that lodge in their branches, show more respect to the King's order than you do.
Yon mango-blossoms, though long since expanded, Gather no down upon their tender crests; The flower still lingers in the amaranth[92], Imprisoned in its bud; the tuneful Koil, Though winter's chilly dews be overpast, Suspends the liquid volume of his song Scarce uttered in his throat; e'en Love, dismayed, Restores the half-drawn arrow to his quiver.
BOTH MAIDENS.
The mighty power of King Dushyanta is not to be disputed.
FIRST MAIDEN.
It is but a few days since Mitravasu, the King's brother-in-law, sent us to wait upon his Majesty; and, during the whole of our sojourn here, we have been entrusted with the charge of the royal pleasure-grounds. We are therefore strangers in this place, and heard nothing of the order till you informed us of it.
CHAMBERLAIN.
Well then, now you know it, take care you don't continue your preparations.
BOTH MAIDENS.
But tell us, kind Sir, why has the King prohibited the usual festivities? We are curious to hear, if we may.
SANUMATI. [Aside.
Men are naturally fond of festive entertainments. There must be some good reason for the prohibition.
CHAMBERLAIN.
The whole affair is now public; why should I not speak of it? Has not the gossip about the King's rejection of Sakoontala reached your ears yet?
BOTH MAIDENS.
Oh yes, we heard the story from the King's brother-in-law, as far, at least, as the discovery of the ring.
CHAMBERLAIN.
Then there is little more to tell you. As soon as the King's memory was restored by the sight of his own ring, he exclaimed: 'Yes, it is all true. I remember now my secret marriage with Sakoontala. When I repudiated her, I had lost my recollection!' Ever since that moment, he has yielded himself a prey to the bitterest remorse.
He loathes his former pleasures; he rejects The daily homage of his ministers; On his lone couch he tosses to and fro, Courting repose in vain. Whene'er he meets The ladies of his palace, and would fain Address them with politeness, he confounds Their names; or, calling them 'Sakoontala,' Is straightway silent and abashed with shame.
SANUMATI. [Aside.
To me this account is delightful.
CHAMBERLAIN.
In short, the King is so completely out of his mind that the festival has been prohibited.
BOTH MAIDENS.
Perfectly right.
A VOICE BEHIND THE SCENES.
The King! the King! This way, Sire, this way.
CHAMBERLAIN. [Listening.
Oh! here comes his Majesty in this direction. Pass on, maidens; attend to your duties.
BOTH MAIDENS.
We will, sir.
[Exeunt.
Enter King DUSHYANTA, dressed in deep mourning, attended his Jester, MAṬHAVYA, and preceded by VETRAVATI.
CHAMBERLAIN. [Gazing at the KING.
Well, noble forms are certainly pleasing, under all varieties of outward circumstances. The King's person is as charming as ever, notwithstanding his sorrow of mind.
Though but a single golden bracelet spans His wasted arm; though costly ornaments Have given place to penitential weeds; Though oft-repeated sighs have blanched his lips, And robbed them of their bloom; though sleepless care And carking thought have dimmed his beaming eye; Yet does his form, by its inherent lustre, Dazzle the gaze; and, like a priceless gem Committed to some cunning polisher, Grow more effulgent by the loss of substance.
SANUMATI. [Aside. Looking at the KING.
Now that I have seen him, I can well understand why Sakoontala should pine after such a man, in spite of his disdainful rejection of her.
KING. [Walking slowly up and down in deep thought.
When fatal lethargy o'erwhelmed my soul, My loved one strove to rouse me, but in vain; And now, when I would fain in slumber deep Forget myself, full soon remorse doth wake me.
SANUMATI. [Aside.
My poor Sakoontala's sufferings are very similar.
MAṬHAVYA. [Aside.
He is taken with another attack of this odious Sakoontala-fever. How shall we ever cure him?
CHAMBERLAIN. [Approaching.
Victory to the King! Great Prince, the royal pleasure-grounds have been put in order. Your Majesty can resort to them for exercise and amusement whenever you think proper.
KING.
Vetravati, tell the worthy PiSuna, my prime minister, from me, that I am so exhausted by want of sleep that I cannot sit on the judgment-seat to-day. If any case of importance be brought before the tribunal, he must give it his best attention, and inform me of the circumstances by letter.
VETRAVATI.
Your Majesty's commands shall be obeyed.
[Exit.
KING. [To the CHAMBERLAIN.
And you, Vatayana, may go about your own affairs.
CHAMBERLAIN.
I will, Sire.
MAṬHAVYA.
Now that you have rid yourself of these troublesome fellows, you can enjoy the delightful coolness of your pleasure-grounds without interruption.
KING.
Ah! my dear friend, there is an old adage:—'When affliction has a mind to enter, she will find a crevice somewhere;' and it is verified in me.
Scarce is my soul delivered from the cloud That darkened its remembrance of the past, When lo! the heart-born deity of love With yonder blossom of the mango barbs His keenest shaft, and aims it at my breast.
MAṬHAVYA.
Well, then, wait a moment; I will soon demolish Master Kama's[47] arrow with a cut of my cane.
[Raises his stick and strikes off the mango-blossom.
KING. [Smiling.
That will do. I see very well the god of love is not a match for a Brahman. And now, my dear friend, where shall I sit down, that I may enchant my sight by gazing on the twining plants, which seem to remind me of the graceful shape of my beloved?
MAṬHAVYA.
Don't you remember? you told your personal attendant, Chaturika, that you would pass the heat of the day in the jasmine-bower; and commanded her to bring the likeness of your queen Sakoontala, sketched with your own hand.
KING.
True. The sight of her picture will refresh my soul. Lead the way to the arbour.
MAṬHAVYA.
This way, Sire.
[Both move on, followed by SANUMATI.
MAṬHAVYA.
Here we are at the jasmine-bower. Look, it has a marble seat, and seems to bid us welcome with its offerings of delicious flowers. You have only to enter and sit down.
[Both enter and seat themselves.
SANUMATI
[Aside.
I will lean against these young jasmines. I can easily, from behind them, glance at my friend's picture, and will then hasten to inform her of her husband's ardent affection.
[Stands leaning against the creepers.
KING.
Oh! my dear friend, how vividly all the circumstances of my union with Sakoontala present themselves to my recollection at this moment! But tell me now how it was that, between the time of my leaving her in the hermitage and my subsequent rejection of her, you never breathed her name to me? True, you were not by my side when I disowned her; but I had confided to you the story of my love, and you were acquainted with every particular. Did it pass out of your mind as it did out of mine?
MAṬHAVYA.
No, no; trust me for that. But, if you remember, when you had finished telling me about it, you added that I was not to take the story in earnest, for that you were not really in love with a country girl, but were only jesting; and I was dull and thick-headed enough to believe you. But so fate decreed, and there is no help for it.
SANUMATI. [Aside.
Exactly.
KING. [After deep thought.
My dear friend, suggest some relief for my misery.
MAṬHAVYA.
Come, come, cheer up; why do you give way? Such weakness is unworthy of you. Great men never surrender themselves to uncontrolled grief. Do not mountains remain unshaken even in a gale of wind?
KING.
How can I be otherwise than inconsolable, when I call to mind the agonized demeanour of the dear one on the occasion of my disowning her?
When cruelly I spurned her from my presence, She fain had left me; but the young recluse, Stern as the Sage, and with authority As from his saintly master, in a voice That brooked not contradiction, bade her stay. Then through her pleading eyes, bedimmed with tears, She cast on me one long reproachful look, Which like a poisoned shaft torments me still.
SANUMATI. [Aside.
Alas! such is the force of self-reproach following a rash action. But his anguish only rejoices me.
MAṬHAVYA
An idea has just struck me. I should not wonder if some celestial being had carried her off to heaven.
KING.
Very likely. Who else would have dared to lay a finger on a wife, the idol of her husband? It is said that Menaka, the nymph of heaven, gave her birth. The suspicion has certainly crossed my mind that some of her celestial companions may have taken her to their own abode.
SANUMATI. [Aside.
His present recollection of every circumstance of her history does not surprise me so much as his former forgetfulness.
MAṬHAVYA.
If that's the case, you will be certain to meet her before long.
KING.
Why?
MAṬHAVYA.
No father and mother can endure to see a daughter suffering the pain of separation from her husband.
KING. Oh! my dear MaṬHavya,
Was it a dream? or did some magic dire, Dulling my senses with a strange delusion, O'ercome my spirit? or did destiny, Jealous of my good actions, mar their fruit, And rob me of their guerdon? It is past, Whate'er the spell that bound me. Once again Am I awake, but only to behold The precipice o'er which my hopes have fallen.
MAṬHAVYA.
Do not despair in this manner. Is not this very ring a proof that what has been lost may be unexpectedly found?
KING. [Gazing at the ring.
Ah! this ring, too, has fallen from a station not easily regained, and I offer it my sympathy. O gem,
The punishment we suffer is deserved, And equal is the merit of our works, When such our common doom. Thou didst enjoy The thrilling contact of those slender fingers, Bright as the dawn; and now how changed thy lot!
SANUMATI. [Aside.
Had it found its way to the hand of any other person, then indeed its fate would have been deplorable.
MAṬHAVYA.
Pray, how did the ring ever come upon her hand at all?
SANUMATI. [Aside.
I myself am curious to know.
KING.
You shall hear. When I was leaving my beloved Sakoontala that I might return to my own capital, she said to me, with tears in her eyes: 'How long will it be ere my lord send for me to his palace and make me his queen?'
MAṬHAVYA.
Well, what was your reply?
KING.
Then I placed the ring on her finger, and thus addressed her:—
Repeat each day one letter of the name Engraven on this gem; ere thou hast reckoned The tale of syllables, my minister Shall come to lead thee to thy husband's palace.
But, hard-hearted man that I was, I forgot to fulfil my promise, owing to the infatuation that took possession of me.
SANUMATI. [Aside.
A pleasant arrangement! Fate, however, ordained that the appointment should not be kept.
MAṬHAVYA.
But how did the ring contrive to pass into the stomach of that carp which the fisherman caught and was cutting up?
KING.
It must have slipped from my Sakoontala's hand, and fallen into the stream of the Ganges, while she was offering homage to the water of Sachi's holy pool.
MAṬHAVYA.
Very likely.
SANUMATI. [Aside.
Hence it happened, I suppose, that the King, always fearful of committing the least injustice, came to doubt his marriage with my poor Sakoontala. But why should affection so strong as his stand in need of any token of recognition?
KING.
Let me now address a few words of reproof to this ring.
MAṬHAVYA. [Aside.
He is going stark mad, I verily believe.
KING.
Hear me, then dull and undiscerning bauble! For so it argues thee, that thou could'st leave The slender fingers of her hand, to sink Beneath the waters. Yet what marvel is it That thou should'st lack discernment? let me rather Heap curses on myself, who, though endowed With reason, yet rejected her I loved.
MAṬHAVYA. [Aside.
And so, I suppose, I must stand here to be devoured by hunger, whilst he goes on in this sentimental strain.
KING.
O forsaken one, unjustly banished from my presence, take pity on thy slave, whose heart is consumed by the fire of remorse, and return to my sight.
Enter CHATURIKA hurriedly, with a picture in her hand.
CHATURIKA.
Here is the Queen's portrait.
[Shows the picture.
MAṬHAVYA.
Excellent, my dear friend, excellent! The imitation of nature is perfect, and the attitude of the figures is really charming. They stand out in such bold relief that the eye is quite deceived.
SANUMATI. [Aside.
A most artistic performance! I admire the King's skill, and could almost believe that Sakoontala herself was before me.
KING.
I own 'tis not amiss, though it portrays But feebly her angelic loveliness. Aught less than perfect is depicted falsely, And fancy must supply the imperfection.
SANUMATI. [Aside.
A very just remark from a modest man, whose affection is exaggerated by the keenness of his remorse.
MAṬHAVYA.
Tell me:—I see three female figures drawn on the canvas, and all of them beautiful; which of the three is her Majesty Sakoontala?
SANUMATI. [Aside.
If he cannot distinguish her from the others, the simpleton might as well have no eyes in his head.
KING.
Which should you imagine to be intended for her?
MAṬHAVYA.
She who is leaning, apparently a little tired, against the stem of that mango-tree, the tender leaves of which glitter with the water she has poured upon them. Her arms are gracefully extended; her face is somewhat flushed with the heat; and a few flowers have escaped from her hair, which has become unfastened, and hangs in loose tresses about her neck. That must be the queen Sakoontala, and the others, I presume, are her two attendants.
KING.
I congratulate you on your discernment. Behold the proof of my passion;
My finger, burning with the glow of love[93], Has left its impress on the painted tablet; While here and there, alas! a scalding tear Has fallen on the cheek and dimmed its brightness.
Chaturika, the garden in the background of the picture is only half-painted. Go, fetch the brush that I may finish it.
CHATURIKA.
Worthy Maṭhavya, have the kindness to hold the picture until I return.
KING.
Nay, I will hold it myself.
[Takes the picture.
[Exit CHATURIKA.
My loved one came but lately to my presence And offered me herself, but in my folly I spurned the gift, and now I fondly cling To her mere image; even as a madman Would pass the waters of the gushing stream, And thirst for airy vapours of the desert[94].
MAṬHAVYA. [Aside.
He has been fool enough to forego the reality for the semblance, the substance for the shadow.
[Aloud.]
Tell us, I pray, what else remains to be painted.
SANUMATI. [Aside.
He longs, no doubt, to delineate some favourite spot where my Sakoontala delighted to ramble.
KING.
You shall hear:—
I wish to see the Malini portrayed, Its tranquil course by banks of sand impeded; Upon the brink a pair of swans; beyond, The hills adjacent to Himalaya[95], Studded with deer; and, near the spreading shade Of some large tree, where 'mid the branches hang The hermits' vests of bark, a tender doe, Rubbing its downy forehead on the horn Of a black antelope, should be depicted.
MAṬHAVYA.
[Aside.
Pooh! if I were he, I would fill up the vacant spaces with a lot of grizzly-bearded old hermits.
KING.
My dear MaṬHavya, there is still a part of Sakoontala's dress which I purposed to draw, but find I have omitted.
MAṬHAVYA.
What is that?
SANUMATI. [Aside.
Something suitable, I suppose, to the simple attire of a young and beautiful girl dwelling in a forest.
KING.
A sweet Sirisha blossom should be twined Behind her ear[7], its perfumed crest depending Towards her cheek; and, resting on her bosom, A lotus-fibre necklace, soft and bright As an autumnal moonbeam, should be traced.
MAṬHAVYA.
Pray, why does the Queen cover her lips with the tips of her fingers, bright as the blossom of a lily, as if she were afraid of something? [Looking more closely.] Oh! I see; a vagabond bee, intent on thieving honey from the flowers, has mistaken her mouth for a rosebud, and is trying to settle upon it.
KING.
A bee! drive off the impudent insect, will you?
MAṬHAVYA.
That's your business. Your royal prerogative gives you power over all offenders.
KING.
Very true. Listen to me, thou favourite guest of flowering plants; why give thyself the trouble of hovering here?
See where thy partner sits on yonder flower, And waits for thee ere she will sip its dew.
SANUMATI. [Aside.
A most polite way of warning him off!
MAṬHAVYA.
You'll find the obstinate creature is not to be sent about his business so easily as you think.
KING.
Dost thou presume to disobey? Now hear me:—
An thou but touch the lips of my beloved, Sweet as the opening blossom, whence I quaffed In happier days love's nectar, I will place thee Within the hollow of yon lotus cup, And there imprison thee for thy presumption.
MAṬHAVYA.
He must be bold indeed not to show any fear when you threaten him with such an awful punishment. [Smiling, aside.] He is stark mad, that's clear; and I believe, by keeping him company, I am beginning to talk almost as wildly. [Aloud.] Look, it is only a painted bee.
KING.
Painted? impossible!
SANUMATI. [Aside.
Even I did not perceive it; how much less should he!
KING.
Oh! my dear friend, why were you so ill-natured as to tell me the truth?
While all entranced, I gazed upon her picture, My loved one seemed to live before my eyes Till every fibre of my being thrilled With rapturous emotion. Oh! 'twas cruel To dissipate the day-dream, and transform The blissful vision to a lifeless image.
[Sheds tears.
SANUMATI. [Aside.
Separated lovers are very difficult to please; but he seems more difficult than usual.
KING.
Alas! my dear MaṬHavya, why am I doomed to be the victim of perpetual disappointment?
Vain is the hope of meeting her in dreams, For slumber night by night forsakes my couch; And now that I would fain assuage my grief By gazing on her portrait here before me, Tears of despairing love obscure my sight.
SANUMATI. [Aside.
You have made ample amends for the wrong you did Sakoontala in disowning her.
CHATURIKA. [Entering.
Victory to the King! I was coming along with the box of colours in my hand—
KING.
What now?
CHATURIKA.
When I met the queen Vasumati, attended by Taralika. She insisted on taking it from me, and declared she would herself deliver it into your Majesty's hands.
MAṬHAVYA.
By what luck did you contrive to escape her?
CHATURIKA.
While her maid was disengaging her mantle, which had caught in the branch, of a shrub, I ran away.
KING.
Here, my good friend, take the picture and conceal it. My attentions to the Queen have made her presumptuous. She will be here in a minute.
MAṬHAVYA.
Conceal the picture! conceal myself, you mean.
[Getting up and taking the picture.]
The Queen has a bitter draught in store for you, which you will have to swallow, as Siva did the poison at the Deluge[96]. When you are well quit of her, you may send and call me from the Palace of Clouds[97], where I shall take refuge.
[Exit, running.
SANUMATI. [Aside.
Although the King's affections are transferred to another object, yet he respects his previous attachments. I fear his love must be somewhat fickle.
VETRAVATI. [Entering with a despatch in her hand.
Victory to the King!
KING.
Vetravati, did you observe the queen Vasumati coming in this direction?
VETRAVATI.
I did; but when she saw that I had a despatch in my hand for your Majesty, she turned back.
KING.
The Queen has too much regard for propriety to interrupt me when I am engaged with State-affairs.
VETRAVATI.
So please your Majesty, your prime minister begs respectfully to inform you that he has devoted much time to the settlement of financial calculations, and only one case of importance has been submitted by the citizens for his consideration. He has made a written report of the facts, and requests your Majesty to cast your eyes over it.
KING.
Hand me the paper.
[VETRAVATI delivers it.
[Reading.
What have we here? 'A merchant named Dhanamitra, trading by sea, was lost in a late shipwreck. Though a wealthy trader, he was childless; and the whole of his immense property becomes by law forfeited to the king.' So writes the minister. Alas! alas! for his childlessness! But surely, if he was wealthy, he must have had many wives. Let an inquiry be made whether any one of them is expecting to give birth to a child.
VETRAVATI.
They say that his wife, the daughter of the foreman of a guild belonging to Ayodhya [98], has just completed the ceremonies usual upon such expectations.
KING.
The unborn child has a title to its father's property. Such is my decree. Go, bid my minister proclaim it so.
VETRAVATI.
I will, my liege.
[Going.
KING.
Stay a moment.
VETRAVATI.
I am at your Majesty's service.
KING.
Let there be no question whether he may or may not have left offspring; Rather be it proclaimed that whosoe'er Of King Dushyanta's subjects be bereaved
Of any loved relation, an it be not That his estates are forfeited for crimes, Dushyanta will himself to them supply That kinsman's place in tenderest affection.
VETRAVATI.
It shall be so proclaimed.
[Exit VETRAVATI, and re-enters after an interval.
VETRAVATI.
Your Majesty's proclamation was received with acclamations of joy, like grateful rain at the right season.
KING. [Drawing a deep sigh.
So, then, the property of rich men, who have no lineal descendants, passes over to a stranger at their decease. And such, alas! must be the fate of the fortunes of the race of Puru at my death; even as when fertile soil is sown with seed at the wrong season.
VETRAVATI.
Heaven forbid!
KING.
Fool that I was to reject such happiness when it offered itself for my acceptance!
SANUMATI. [Aside.
He may well blame his own folly when he calls to mind his treatment of my beloved Sakoontala.
KING.
Ah! woe is me! when I forsook my wife— My lawful wife—concealed within her breast There lay my second self, a child unborn, Hope of my race, e'en as the choicest fruit Lies hidden in the bosom of the earth.
SANUMATI. [Aside.
There is no fear of your race being cut off for want of a son.
CHATURIKA. [Aside to VETRAVATI.
The affair of the merchant's death has quite upset our royal master, and caused him sad distress. Would it not be better to fetch the worthy Maṭhavya from the Palace of Clouds to comfort him?
VETRAVATI.
A very good idea.
[Exit.
KING.
Alas! the shades of my forefathers are even now beginning to be alarmed, lest at my death they may be deprived of their funeral libations.
No son remains in King Dushyanta's place To offer sacred homage to the dead Of Puru's noble line; my ancestors Must drink these glistening tears, the last libation[99] A childless man can ever hope to make them.
[Falls down in an agony of grief.
CHATURIKA. [Looking at him in consternation.
Great King, compose yourself.
SANUMATI. [Aside.
Alas! alas! though a bright light is shining near him, he is involved in the blackest darkness, by reason of the veil that obscures his sight. I will now reveal all, and put an end to his misery. But no; I heard the mother of the great Indra[100], when she was consoling Sakoontala, say that the gods will soon bring about a joyful union between husband and wife, being eager for the sacrifice which will be celebrated in their honour on the occasion. I must not anticipate the happy moment, but will return at once to my dear friend and cheer her with an account of what I have seen and heard. [Rises aloft and disappears.
A VOICE BEHIND THE SCENES.
Help! help! to the rescue!
KING.
[Recovering himself. Listening.
Ha! I heard a cry of distress, and in Maṭhavya's voice too. What ho there!
VETRAVATI. [Entering.
Your friend is in danger; save him, great King.
KING.
Who dares insult the worthy Maṭhavya?
VETRAVATI.
Some evil demon, invisible to human eyes, has seized him, and carried him to one of the turrets of the Palace of Clouds.
KING. [Rising.
Impossible! Have evil spirits power over my subjects, even in nay private apartments? Well, well;— Daily I seem, less able to avert Misfortune from myself, and o'er my actions Less competent to exercise control; How can I then direct my subjects' ways, Or shelter them from tyranny and wrong?
A VOICE BEHIND THE SCENES.
Halloo there! my dear friend; help! help!
KING. [Advancing with rapid strides.
Fear nothing—
THE SAME VOICE BEHIND THE SCENES.
Fear nothing, indeed! How can I help fearing when some monster is twisting back my neck, and is about to snap it as he would a sugar-cane?
KING. [Looking round. What ho there! my bow!
SLAVE. [Entering with a bow.
Behold your bow, Sire, and your arm-guard.
[The KING snatches up the bow and arrows.
ANOTHER VOICE BEHIND THE SCENES.
Here, thirsting for thy life-blood, will I slay thee, As a fierce tiger rends his struggling prey. Call now thy friend Dushyanta to thy aid; His bow is mighty to defend the weak; Yet all its vaunted power shall be as nought.
KING. [With fury.
What! dares he defy me to my face? Hold there, monster! Prepare to die, for your time is come.
[Stringing his bow.]
Vetravati, lead the way to the terrace.
VETRAVATI.
This way, Sire.
[They advance in haste.
KING. [Looking on every side.
How's this? there is nothing to be seen.
A VOICE BEHIND THE SCENES.
Help! Save me! I can see you, though you cannot see me. I am like a mouse in the claws of a cat; my life is not worth a minute's purchase.
KING.
Avaunt, monster! You may pride yourself on the magic that renders you invisible, but my arrow shall find you out. Thus do I fix a shaft That shall discern between an impious demon, And a good Brahman; bearing death to thee, To him deliverance—even as the swan Distinguishes the milk from worthless water[101].
[Takes aim.
Enter MATALI[102] holding MAṬHAVYA, whom he releases.
MATALI.
Turn thou thy deadly arrows on the demons; Such is the will of Indra; let thy bow Be drawn against the enemies of the gods; But on thy friends cast only looks of favour.
KING. [Putting back his arrow.
What, Matali! Welcome, most noble charioteer of the mighty Indra.
MAṬHAVYA.
So, here is a monster who thought as little about slaughtering me as if I had been a bullock for sacrifice, and you must e'en greet him with a welcome.
MATALI. [Smiling.
Great Prince, hear on what errand Indra sent me into your presence.
KING.
I am all attention.
MATALI.
There is a race of giants, the descendants of Kalanemi[103], whom the gods find it difficult to subdue.
KING.
So I have already heard from Narada[104].
MATALI.
Heaven's mighty lord, who deigns to call thee 'friend,' Appoints thee to the post of highest honour, As leader of his armies; and commits The subjugation of this giant brood To thy resistless arms, e'en as the sun Leaves the pale moon to dissipate the darkness.
Let your Majesty, therefore, ascend at once the celestial car of Indra; and, grasping your arms, advance to victory.
KING.
The mighty Indra honours me too highly by such a mark of distinction. But tell me, what made you act thus towards my poor friend MaṬHavya?
MATALI.
I will tell you. Perceiving that your Majesty's spirit was completely broken by some distress of mind under which you were labouring, I determined to rouse your energies by moving you to anger. Because To light a flame, we need but stir the embers; The cobra, when incensed, extends his head And springs upon his foe; the bravest men Display their courage only when provoked.
KING. [Aside to MAṬHAVYA.
My dear MaṬHavya, the commands of the great Indra must not be left unfulfilled. Go you and acquaint my minister, PiSuna, with what has happened, and say to him from me:—
Dushyanta to thy care confides his realm— Protect with all the vigour of thy mind The interests of his people; while his bow Is braced against the enemies of heaven.
MAṬHAVYA. I obey. [Exit.
MATALI
Ascend, illustrious Prince.
[The KING ascends the car.
[Exeunt.
* * * * *
ACT VII.
SCENE.—The Sky.
Enter KING DUSHYANTA and MATALI in the car of Indra, moving in the air.
KING.
My good Matali, it appears to me incredible that I can merit such a mark of distinction for having simply fulfilled the behests of the great Indra.
MATALI. [Smiling.
Great Prince, it seems to me that neither of you is satisfied with himself.
You underrate the services you have rendered, And think too highly of the god's reward; He deems it scarce sufficient recompense For your heroic deeds on his behalf.
KING.
Nay, Matali, say not so. My most ambitious expectations were more than realised by the honour conferred on me at the moment when I took my leave. For,
Tinged with celestial sandal, from the breast[105] Of the great Indra, where before it hung, A garland of the ever-blooming tree Of Nandana[106] was cast about my neck By his own hand; while, in the very presence Of the assembled gods, I was enthroned Beside their mighty lord, who smiled to see His son Jayanta[107] envious of the honour.
MATALI.
There is no mark of distinction which your Majesty does not deserve at the hands of the immortals. See,
Heaven's hosts acknowledge thee their second saviour: For now thy how's unerring shafts (as erst The Lion-man's terrific claws[108]) have purged The empyreal sphere from taint of demons foul.
KING.
The praise of my victory must be ascribed to the majesty of Indra.
When mighty gods make men their delegates In martial enterprise, to them belongs The palm of victory; and not to mortals. Could the pale Dawn dispel the shades of night, Did not the god of day, whose diadem Is jewelled with a thousand beams of light, Place him in front of his effulgent car[11]?
MATALI.
A very just comparison!
[Driving on.]
Great King, behold! the glory of thy fame has reached even to the vault of heaven.
Hark! yonder inmates of the starry sphere Sing anthems worthy of thy martial deeds, While with celestial colours they depict The story of thy victories on scrolls Formed of the leaves of heaven's immortal trees.
KING.
My good Matali, yesterday, when I ascended the sky, I was so eager to do battle with the demons, that the road by which we were travelling towards Indra's heaven escaped my observation. Tell me, in which path of the seven winds are we now moving?
MATALI.
We journey in the path of Parivaha[109]— The wind that bears along the triple Ganges[110] And causes Ursa's seven stars to roll In their appointed orbits, scattering Their several rays with equal distribution. 'Tis the same path that once was sanctified By the divine impression of the foot Of Vishnu, when, to conquer haughty Bali, He spanned the heavens in his second stride[111].
KING.
This is the reason, I suppose, that a sensation of calm repose pervades all my senses.
[Looking down at the wheels.]
Ah! Matali, we are descending towards the earth's atmosphere.
MATALI.
What makes you think so?
KING.
The car itself instructs me; we are moving O'er pregnant clouds, surcharged with rain; below us I see the moisture-loving Chatakas[112] In sportive flight dart through the spokes; the steeds Of Indra glisten with the lightning's flash; And a thick mist bedews the circling wheels.
MATALI.
You are right; in a little while the chariot will touch the ground, and you will be in your own dominions.
KING. [Looking down.
How wonderful the appearance of the earth as we rapidly descend!
Stupendous prospect! yonder lofty hills Do suddenly uprear their towering heads Amid the plain, while from beneath their crests The ground receding sinks; the trees, whose stem Seemed lately hid within their leafy tresses, Rise into elevation, and display Their branching shoulders; yonder streams, whose waters, Like silver threads, were scarce, but now, discerned, Grow into mighty rivers; lo! the earth Seems upward hurled by some gigantic power.
MATALI.
Well described!
[Looking with awe.]
Grand, indeed, and lovely is the spectacle presented by the earth.
KING.
Tell me, Matali, what is the range of mountains which, like a bank of clouds illumined by the setting sun, pours down a stream of gold? On one side its base dips into the eastern ocean, and on the other side into the western.
MATALI.
Great Prince, it is called 'Golden-peak[113],' and is the abode of the attendants of the god of wealth. In this spot the highest forms of penance are wrought out.
There Kasyapa[114], the great progenitor Of demons and of gods, himself the offspring Of the divine Marichi, Brahma's son, With Aditi, his wife, in calm seclusion, Does holy penance for the good of mortals.
KING.
Then I must not neglect so good an opportunity of obtaining his blessing. I should much like to visit this venerable personage and offer him my homage.
MATALI.
By all means. An excellent idea!
[Guides the car to the earth.
KING. [In a tone of wonder.
How's this?
Our chariot wheels move noiselessly. Around No clouds of dust arise; no shock betokened Our contact with the earth; we seem to glide Above the ground, so lightly do we touch it.
MATALI.
Such is the difference between the car of Indra and that of your Majesty.
KING.
In which direction, Matali, is Kasyapa's sacred retreat?
MATALI. [Pointing.
Where stands yon anchorite, towards the orb Of the meridian sun, immovable As a tree's stem, his body half-concealed By a huge ant-hill. Bound about his breast No sacred cord is twined[115], but in its stead A hideous serpent's skin. In place of necklace, The tendrils of a withered creeper chafe His wasted neck. His matted hair depends In thick entanglement about his shoulders, And birds construct their nests within its folds[116].
KING.
I salute thee, thou man of austere devotion.
MATALI. [Holding in the reins of the car.
Great Prince, we are now in the sacred grove of the holy Kasyapa—the grove that boasts as its ornament one of the five trees of Indra's heaven, reared by Aditi.
KING.
This sacred retreat is more delightful than heaven itself. I could almost fancy myself bathing in a pool of nectar.
MATALI. [Stopping the chariot.
Descend, mighty Prince.
KING. [Descending.
And what will you do, Matali?
MATALI.
The chariot will remain where I have stopped it. We may both descend.
[Doing so.]
This way, great King.
[Walking on.]
You see around you the celebrated region where the holiest sages devote themselves to penitential rites.
KING.
I am filled with awe and wonder as I gaze.
In such a place as this do saints of earth Long to complete their acts of penance; here, Beneath the shade of everlasting trees. Transplanted from the groves of Paradise, May they inhale the balmy air, and need No other nourishment[117]; here may they bathe In fountains sparkling with the golden dust Of lilies; here, on jewelled slabs of marble, In meditation rapt, may they recline; Here, in the presence of celestial nymphs, E'en passion's voice is powerless to move them.
MATALI.
So true is it that the aspirations of the good and great are ever soaring upwards.
[Turning round and speaking off the stage.]
Tell me, Vriddha-Sakalya, how is the divine son of Marichi now engaged? What sayest thou? that he is conversing with Aditi and some of the wives of the great sages, and that they are questioning him respecting the duties of a faithful wife?
KING. [Listening.
Then we must await the holy father's leisure.
MATALI. [Looking at the KING.
If your Majesty will rest under the shade, at the foot of this Asoka-tree [118], I will seek an opportunity of announcing your arrival to Indra's reputed father.
KING.
As you think proper.
[Remains under the tree.
MATALI.
Great King, I go. [Exit.
KING. [Feeling his arm throb.
Wherefore this causeless throbbing, O mine arm[18]? All hope has fled for ever; mock me not With presages of good, when happiness Is lost, and nought but misery remains.
A VOICE BEHIND THE SCENES.
Be not so naughty. Do you begin already to show a refractory spirit?
KING. [Listening.
This is no place for petulance. Who can it be whose behaviour calls for such a rebuke?
[Looking in the direction of the sound and smiling.]
A child, is it? closely attended by two holy women. His disposition seems anything but child-like. See!
He braves the fury of yon lioness Suckling its savage offspring, and compels The angry whelp to leave the half-sucked dug, Tearing its tender mane in boisterous sport.
Enter a CHILD, attended by TWO WOMEN of the hermitage, in the manner described.
CHILD.
Open your mouth, my young lion, I want to count your teeth.
FIRST ATTENDANT.
You naughty child, why do you tease the animals? Know you not that we cherish them in this hermitage as if they were our own children? In good sooth, you have a high spirit of your own, and are beginning already to do justice to the name Sarva-damana ('All-taming'), given you by the hermits.
KING.
Strange! My heart inclines towards the boy with almost as much affection as if he were my own child. What can be the reason? I suppose my own childlessness makes me yearn towards the sons of others.
SECOND ATTENDANT.
This lioness will certainly attack you if you do not release her whelp.
CHILD. [Laughing.
Oh! indeed! let her come. Much I fear her, to be sure!
[Pouts his under-lip in defiance.
KING.
The germ of mighty courage lies concealed Within this noble infant, like a spark Beneath the fuel, waiting but a breath To fan the flame and raise a conflagration.
FIRST ATTENDANT.
Let the young lion go, like a dear child, and I will give you something else to play with.
CHILD.
Where is it? Give it me first.
[Stretches out his hand.
KING. [Looking at his hand.
How's that? His hand exhibits one of those mystic marks[84] which are the sure prognostic of universal empire. See! His fingers stretched in eager expectation To grasp the wished-for toy, and knit together By a close-woven web, in shape resemble A lotus blossom, whose expanding petals The early dawn has only half unfolded.
SECOND ATTENDANT.
We shall never pacify him by mere words, dear Suvrata. Be kind enough to go to my cottage, and you will find there a plaything belonging to Markandeya, one of the hermit's children. It is a peacock made of china-ware, painted in many colours. Bring it here for the child.
FIRST ATTENDANT.
Very well. [Exit.
CHILD.
No, no; I shall go on playing with the young lion.
[Looks at the FEMALE ATTENDANT and laughs.
KING.
I feel an unaccountable affection for this wayward child. How blessed the virtuous parents whose attire Is soiled with dust, by raising from the ground The child that asks a refuge in their arms! And happy are they while with lisping prattle, In accents sweetly inarticulate, He charms their ears; and with his artless smiles Gladdens their hearts[119], revealing to their gaze His pearly teeth just budding into view.
ATTENDANT.
I see how it is. He pays me no manner of attention.
[Looking off the stage.]
I wonder whether any of the hermits are about here.
[ Seeing the KING.]
Kind Sir, could you come hither a moment and help me to release the young lion from the clutch of this child who is teasing him in boyish play?
KING. [Approaching and smiling.
Listen to me, thou child of a mighty saint!
Dost thou dare show a wayward spirit here? Here, in this hallowed region? Take thou heed Lest, as the serpent's young defiles the sandal[71], Thou bring dishonour on the holy sage Thy tender-hearted parent, who delights To shield from harm the tenants of the wood.
ATTENDANT.
Gentle Sir, I thank you; but he is not the saint's son.
KING.
His behaviour and whole bearing would have led me to doubt it, had not the place of his abode encouraged the idea.
[Follows the CHILD, and takes him by the hand, according to the request of the attendant. Aside.
I marvel that the touch of this strange child Should thrill me with delight; if so it be, How must the fond caresses of a son Transport the father's soul who gave him being!
ATTENDANT. [Looking at them both.
Wonderful! Prodigious!
KING.
What excites your surprise, my good woman?
ATTENDANT.
I am astonished at the striking resemblance between the child and yourself; and, what is still more extraordinary, he seems to have taken to you kindly and submissively, though you are a stranger to him.
KING. [Fondling the CHILD.
If he be not the son of the great sage, of what family does he come, may I ask?
ATTENDANT.
Of the race of Puru.
KING. [Aside.
What! are we, then, descended from the same ancestry? This, no doubt, accounts for the resemblance she traces between the child and me. Certainly it has always been an established usage among the princes of Puru's race,
To dedicate the morning of their days To the world's weal, in palaces and halls, 'Mid luxury and regal pomp abiding; Then, in the wane of life, to seek release From kingly cares, and make the hallowed shade Of sacred trees their last asylum, where As hermits they may practise self-abasement, And bind themselves by rigid vows of penance.
[Aloud.]
But how could mortals by their own power gain admission to this sacred region?
ATTENDANT.
Your remark is just; but your wonder will cease when I tell you that his mother is the offspring of a celestial nymph, and gave him birth in the hallowed grove of Kasyapa.
KING. [Aside.
Strange that my hopes should be again excited!
[Aloud.]
But what, let me ask, was the name of the prince whom she deigned to honour with her hand?
ATTENDANT.
How could I think of polluting my lips by the mention of a wretch who had the cruelty to desert his lawful wife?
KING. [Aside.
Ha! the description suits me exactly. Would I could bring myself to inquire the name of the child's mother!
[Reflecting.]
But it is against propriety to make too minute inquiries about the wife of another man[120].
FIRST ATTENDANT.
[Entering with the china peacock in her hand.
Sarva-damana, Sarva-damana, see, see, what a beautiful Sakoonta (bird).
CHILD. [Looking round.
My mother! Where? Let me go to her.
BOTH ATTENDANTS.
He mistook the word Sakoonta for Sakoontala. The boy dotes upon his mother, and she is ever uppermost in his thoughts.
SECOND ATTENDANT.
Nay, my dear child, I said: Look at the beauty of this Sakoonta.
KING. [Aside.
What! is his mother's name Sakoontala? But the name is not uncommon among women. Alas! I fear the mere similarity of a name, like the deceitful vapour of the desert[94], has once more raised my hopes only to dash them to the ground.
CHILD.
Dear nurse, what a beautiful peacock!
[Takes the toy.
FIRST ATTENDANT.
[Looking at the CHILD. In great distress.
Alas! alas! I do not see the amulet on his wrist.
KING.
Don't distress yourself. Here it is. It fell off while he was struggling with the young lion.
[Stoops to pick it up.
BOTH ATTENDANTS.
Hold! hold! Touch it not, for your life. How marvellous! He has actually taken it up without the slightest hesitation.
[Both raise their hands to their breasts and look at each other in astonishment.
KING.
Why did you try to prevent my touching it?
FIRST ATTENDANT.
Listen, great Monarch. This amulet, known as 'The Invincible,' was given to the boy by the divine son of Marichi, soon after his birth, when the natal ceremony was performed. Its peculiar virtue is, that when it falls on the ground, no one except the father or mother of the child can touch it unhurt.
KING.
And suppose another person touches it?
FIRST ATTENDANT.
Then it instantly becomes a serpent, and bites him.
KING.
Have you ever witnessed the transformation with your own eyes?
BOTH ATTENDANTS.
Over and over again.
KING. [With rapture. Aside.
Joy! joy! Are then my dearest hopes to be fulfilled?
[Embraces the CHILD.
SECOND ATTENDANT.
Come, my dear Suvrata, we must inform Sakoontala immediately of this wonderful event, though we have to interrupt her in the performance of her religious vows.
[Exeunt.
CHILD. [To the KING.
Don't hold me. I want to go to my mother.
KING.
We will go to her together, and give her joy, my son.
CHILD.
Dushyanta is my father, not you.
KING. [Smiling.
His contradiction only convinces me the more.
Enter SAKOONTALA, in widow's apparel, with her long hair twisted into a single braid.
SAKOONTALA. [Aside.
I have just heard that Sarva-damana's amulet has retained its form, though a stranger raised it from the ground. I can hardly believe in my good fortune. Yet why should not Sanumati's prediction be verified?
KING.
Alas! can this indeed be my Sakoontala?
Clad in the weeds of widowhood, her face Emaciate with fasting, her long hair Twined in a single braid[121], her whole demeanour Expressive of her purity of soul; With patient constancy she thus prolongs The vow to which my cruelty condemned her.
SAKOONTALA. [Gazing at the KING, who is pale with remorse.
Surely this is not like my husband; yet who can it be that dares pollute by the pressure of his hand my child, whose amulet should protect him from a stranger's touch?
CHILD. [Going to his mother.
Mother, who is this man that has been kissing me and calling me his son?
KING.
My best beloved, I have indeed treated thee most cruelly, but am now once more thy fond and affectionate lover. Refuse not to acknowledge me as thy husband.
SAKOONTALA. [Aside.
Be of good cheer, my heart. The anger of Destiny is at last appeased. Heaven regards thee with compassion. But is he in very truth my husband?
KING.
Behold me, best and loveliest of women, Delivered from the cloud of fatal darkness That erst oppressed my memory. Again Behold us brought together by the grace Of the great lord of Heaven. So the moon Shines forth from dim eclipse [122], to blend his rays With the soft lustre of his Rohini.
SAKOONTALA.
May my husband be victorious—
[She stops short, her voice choked with tears.
KING.
O fair one, though the utterance of thy prayer Be lost amid the torrent of thy tears, Yet does the sight of thy fair countenance And of thy pallid lips, all unadorned[123] And colourless in sorrow for my absence, Make me already more than conqueror.
CHILD.
Mother, who is this man?
SAKOONTALA.
My child, ask the deity that presides over thy destiny.
KING. [Falling at SAKOONTALA's feet.
Fairest of women, banish from thy mind The memory of my cruelty; reproach The fell delusion that o'erpowered my soul, And blame not me, thy husband; 'tis the curse Of him in whom the power of darkness[124] reigns, That he mistakes the gifts of those he loves For deadly evils. Even though a friend Should wreathe a garland on a blind man's brow, Will he not cast it from him as a serpent?
SAKOONTALA.
Rise, my own husband, rise. Thou wast not to blame. My own evil deeds, committed in a former state of being[37], brought down this judgment upon me. How else could my husband, who was ever of a compassionate disposition, have acted so unfeelingly?
[The KING rises.]
But tell me, my husband, how did the remembrance of thine unfortunate wife return to thy mind?
KING.
As soon as my heart's anguish is removed, and its wounds are healed, I will tell thee all.
Oh! let me, fair one, chase away the drop That still bedews the fringes of thine eye; And let me thus efface the memory Of every tear that stained thy velvet cheek, Unnoticed and unheeded by thy lord, When in his madness he rejected thee.
[Wipes away the tear.
SAKOONTALA.
[Seeing the signet-ring on his finger.
Ah! my dear husband, is that the Lost Ring?
KING.
Yes; the moment I recovered it my memory was restored.
SAKOONTALA.
The ring was to blame in allowing itself to be lost at the very time when I was anxious to convince my noble husband of the reality of my marriage.
KING.
Receive it back, as the beautiful twining-plant receives again its blossom in token of its reunion with the spring.
SAKOONTALA.
Nay; I can never more place confidence in it. Let my husband retain it.
[Enter MATALI.
MATALI.
I congratulate your Majesty. Happy are you in your reunion with your wife; happy are you in beholding the face of your own son.
KING.
Yes, indeed. My heart's dearest wish has borne sweet fruit. But tell me, Matali, is this joyful event known to the great Indra?
MATALI. [Smiling.
What is unknown to the gods? But come with me, noble Prince, the divine Kasyapa graciously permits thee to be presented to him.
KING.
Sakoontala, take our child and lead the way. We will together go into the presence of the holy Sage.
SAKOONTALA.
I shrink from entering the august presence of the great Saint, even with my husband at my side.
KING.
Nay; on such a joyous occasion it is highly proper. Come, come; I entreat thee.
[All advance.
KASYAPA is discovered seated on a throne with his wife ADITI.
KASYAPA.
[Gazing at DUSHYANTA. To his wife.
O Aditi,
This is the mighty hero, King Dushyanta, Protector of the earth; who, at the head Of the celestial armies of thy son, Does battle with the enemies of heaven. Thanks to his bow, the thunderbolt of Indra Rests from its work, no more the minister Of death and desolation to the world, But a mere symbol of divinity.
ADITI.
He bears in his noble form all the marks of dignity.
MATALI. [To DUSHYANTA
Sire, the venerable progenitors of the celestials are gazing at your Majesty with as much affection as if you were their son. You may advance towards them.
KING.
Are these, O Matali, the holy pair, Offspring of Daksha and divine Marichi, Children of Brahma's sons[125], by sages deemed Sole fountain of celestial light, diffused Through twelve effulgent orbs [114]? Are these the pair From whom the ruler of the triple world [126], Sovereign of gods and lord of sacrifice, Sprang into being? That immortal pair Whom Vishnu, greater than the Self-existent [127], Chose for his parents, when, to save mankind, He took upon himself the shape of mortals?
MATALI.
Even so.
KING. [Prostrating himself.
Most august of beings! Dushyanta, content to have fulfilled the commands of your son Indra, offers you his adoration.
KASYAPA.
My son, long may'st thou live, and happily may'st thou reign over the earth!
ADITI.
My son, may'st thou ever be invincible in the field of battle!
SAKOONTALA.
I also prostrate myself before you, most adorable Beings, and my child with me.
KASYAPA.
My daughter,
Thy lord resembles Indra, and thy child Is noble as Jayanta, Indra's son; I have no worthier blessing left for thee, May'st thou be faithful as the god's own wife!
ADITI.
My daughter, may'st thou be always the object of thy husband's fondest love; and may thy son live long to be the joy of both his parents! Be seated.
[All sit down in the presence of KASYAPA.
KASYAPA. [Regarding each of them by turns.
Hail to the beautiful Sakoontala, Hail to her noble son, and hail to thee, Illustrious Prince—rare triple combination Of virtue, wealth, and energy united!
KING.
Most venerable Kasyapa, by your favour all my desires were accomplished even before I was admitted to your presence. Never was mortal so honoured that his boon should be granted ere it was solicited. Because—
Bloom before fruit, the clouds before the rain, Cause first and then effect, in endless sequence, Is the unchanging law of constant nature; But, ere the blessing issued from thy lips, The wishes of my heart were all fulfilled.
MATALI.
It is thus that the great progenitors of the world confer favours.
KING.
Most reverend Sage, this thy handmaid was married to me by the Gandharva ceremony[55], and after a time was conducted to my palace by her relations. Meanwhile a fatal delusion seized me; I lost my memory and rejected her, thus committing a grievous offence against the venerable Kanwa, who is of thy divine race. Afterwards the sight of this ring restored my faculties, and brought back to my mind all the circumstances of my union with his daughter. But my conduct still seems to me incomprehensible;
As foolish as the fancies of a man Who, when he sees an elephant, denies That 'tis an elephant; then afterwards, When its huge bulk moves onward, hesitates; Yet will not be convinced till it has passed For ever from his sight, and left behind No vestige of its presence save its footsteps.
KASYAPA.
My son, cease to think thyself in fault. Even the delusion that possessed thy mind was not brought about by any act of thine. Listen to me.
KING.
I am attentive.
KASYAPA.
Know that when the nymph Menaka, the mother of Sakoontala, became aware of her daughter's anguish in consequence of the loss of the ring at the nymph's pool, and of thy subsequent rejection of her, she brought her and confided her to the care of Aditi. And I no sooner saw her than I ascertained by my divine faculty of meditation[134], that thy repudiation of thy poor faithful wife had been caused entirely by the curse of Durvasas—not by thine own fault—and that the spell would terminate on the discovery of the ring.
KING. [Drawing a deep breath.
Oh! what a weight is taken off my mind, now that my character is cleared of reproach.
SAKOONTALA. [Aside.
Joy! joy! My revered husband did not, then, reject me without good reason, though I have no recollection of the curse pronounced upon me. But, in all probability, I unconsciously brought it upon myself, when I was so distracted on being separated from my husband soon after our marriage. For I now remember that my two friends advised me not to fail to show the ring in case he should have forgotten me.
KASYAPA.
At last, my daughter, thou art happy, and hast gained thy heart's desire. Indulge, then, no feeling of resentment against thy consort. See, now,
Though he repulsed thee, 'twas the sage's curse That clouded his remembrance; 'twas the curse That made thy tender husband harsh towards thee. Soon as the spell was broken, and his soul Delivered from its darkness, in a moment, Thou didst regain thine empire o'er his heart. So on the tarnished surface of a mirror No image is reflected, till the dust, That dimmed its wonted lustre, is removed.
KING.
Holy father, see here the hope of my royal race.
[Takes his child by the hand.
KASYAPA.
Know that he, too, will become the monarch of the wholes earth. Observe, Soon, a resistless hero, shall he cross The trackless ocean, borne above the waves In an aerial car; and shall subdue The earth's seven sea-girt isles[128]. Now has he gained, As the brave tamer of the forest-beasts, The title Sarva-damana; but then Mankind shall hail him as King Bharata[129], And call him the supporter of the world.
KING.
We cannot but entertain the highest hopes of a child for whom your Highness performed the natal rites.
ADITI.
My revered husband, should not the intelligence be conveyed to Kanwa, that his daughter's wishes are fulfilled, and her happiness complete? He is Sakoontala's foster-father. Menaka, who is one of my attendants, is her mother, and dearly does she love her daughter.
SAKOONTALA. [Aside.
The venerable matron has given utterance to the very wish that was in my mind.
KASYAPA.
His penances have gained for him the faculty of omniscience, and the whole scene is already present to his mind's eye.
KING.
Then most assuredly he cannot be very angry with me.
KASYAPA.
Nevertheless, it becomes us to send him intelligence of this happy event, and hear his reply. What ho there!
PUPIL. [Entering.
Holy father, what are your commands?
KASYAPA.
My good Galava, delay not an instant, but hasten through the air and convey to the venerable Kanwa, from me, the happy news that the fatal spell has ceased, that Dushyanta's memory is restored, that his daughter Sakoontala has a son, and that she is once more tenderly acknowledged by her husband.
PUPIL.
Your Highness' commands shall be obeyed.
[Exit.
KASYAPA.
And now, my dear son, take thy consort and thy child, re-ascend the car of Indra, and return to thy imperial capital.
KING.
Most holy father, I obey.
KASYAPA.
And accept this blessing—
For countless ages may the god of gods, Lord of the atmosphere, by copious showers Secure abundant harvests to thy subjects; And thou by frequent offerings preserve The Thunderer's friendship. Thus, by interchange Of kindly actions may you both confer Unnumbered benefits on earth and heaven.
KING.
Holy father, I will strive, as far as I am able, to attain this happiness.
KASYAPA.
What other favour can I bestow on thee, my son?
KING.
What other can I desire? If, however, you permit me to form another wish, I would humbly beg that the saying of the sage Bharata[130] be fulfilled:
May kings reign only for their subjects' weal; May the divine Saraswati[131], the source Of speech, and goddess of dramatic art, Be ever honoured by the great and wise; And may the purple self-existent god[132], Whose vital Energy[133] pervades all space, From future transmigrations save my soul.
[Exeunt omnes.
NOTES:
1. ISa preserve you.
That is, 'the Lord,' a name given to the god Siva, when regarded as supreme. As presiding over dissolution he is associated with Brahma the Creator, and Vishnu the Preserver; constituting with them the Hindu Triad. Kalidasa indulges the religious predilections of his fellow-townsmen by beginning and ending the play with a prayer to Siva, who had a large temple in Ujjayini, the modern Oujein, the city of Vikramaditya, situated north-eastward from Gujarat.
2. In these eight forms.
The worshippers of Siva, who were Pantheists in the sense of believing that Siva was himself all that exists, as well as the cause of all that is, held that there were eight different manifestations of their god, called Rudras; and that these had their types in the eight visible forms enumerated here. The Hindus reckon five elements. The most subtle is Ether (akasa), supposed to convey sound, which is its peculiar attribute or property (guna). The next element—Air, has for its properties sound and feeling. The third—Fire, has sound, feeling, and colour. The fourth—Water, has sound, feeling, colour, and taste. The fifth—Earth, has all the other properties, with the addition of smell.
3. An audience of educated and discerning men.
Lit. 'An audience, who are chiefly men of education and discernment.' Few could have been present at these dramatic representations excepting learned and educated men. The mass of the composition being in Sanskrit, would not have been intelligible to the vulgar and illiterate.
4. Sakoontala; or, The Lost Ring.
The literal title is 'Sakoontala recognized by the token or ring.'
5. The present Summer season.
Hindu poets divide the year into six seasons of two months each, viz. I. Spring (Vasanta), beginning about the middle of March; or, according to some, February. 2. Summer (Grishma). 3. Rains (Varsha). 4. Autumn (Sarad). 5. Winter (Hemanta). 6. Dews (Sisira). Practically, however, there are only three seasons in India, 1. The hot season. 2. The rains. 3. The cold weather. In Lower Bengal and Behar, the first of these seasons begins in March, the second in June, and the third in November. The temperature of the cold season is highly exhilarating, and the climate is then superior to that of any portion of the English year. In Calcutta, this season continues for about three months; in Upper India, for about five; and in the Panjab for about seven. The rains in Bengal Proper are more violent and protracted than in Hindustan and the Panjab. In the latter country they last for hardly more than two months, and even then only fall at intervals. Plays were acted on solemn and festive occasions, on lunar holidays, and especially at the changes of the season.
6. Of fragrant Patalas.
The Patala or trumpet-flower; Bignonia suaveolens.
7. With sweet Sirisha flowers.
The flowers of the Acacia Sirisha were used by the Hindu women as ear-ornaments.
8. King Dushyanta.
For the genealogy of King Dushyanta see Introduction, page xxxviii.
9. That wields the trident.
Siva is called Pinakin, that is, 'armed with a trident,' or according to some, a bow named Pinaka. Siva not being invited to Daksha's sacrifice, was so indignant, that, with his wife, he suddenly presented himself, confounded the sacrifice, dispersed the gods, and chasing Yajna, 'the lord of sacrifice,' who fled in the form of a deer, overtook and decapitated him.
10. Their waving plumes, that late Fluttered above their brows, are motionless.
The Chamari, or chowrie, formed of the white bushy tail of the Yak, or Bos grunniens, was placed as an ornament between the ears of horses, like the plume of the war-horse of chivalry. The velocity of the chariot caused it to lose its play, and appear fixed in one direction, like a flag borne rapidly against the wind.
11. The steeds of Indra and the Sun.
That is, the speed of the chariot resembled that of the Wind and the Sun. Indra was the god of the firmament or atmosphere—the Jupiter Tonans of Hindu mythology—and presided over the forty-nine Winds. He has a heaven of his own (Swarga), of which he is the lord, and, although inferior to the three great deities of the Hindu Triad (Brahma, Vishnu, and Siva), he is chief of the secondary gods. The Hindus represent the Sun as seated in a chariot, drawn by seven green horses, having before him a lovely youth without legs, who acts as his charioteer, and who is Aruna, or the Dawn personified.
12. Puru's race.
See Dushyanta's pedigree detailed at page xxxviii of the Introduction.
13. The great sage Kanwa.
The sage Kanwa was a descendant of Kasyapa, whom the Hindus consider to have been the father of the inferior gods, demons, man, fish, reptiles, and all animals, by his twelve wives. Kanwa was the chief of a number of devotees, or hermits, who had constructed a hermitage on the banks of the river Malini, and surrounded it with gardens and groves, where penitential rites were performed, and animals were reared for sacrificial purposes, or for the amusement of the inmates. There is nothing new in asceticism. The craving after self-righteousness, and the desire of acquiring merit by self-mortification, is an innate principle of the human heart, and ineradicable even by Christianity. Witness the monastic institutions of the Romish Church, of which Indian penance-groves were the type. The Superior of a modern Convent is but the antitype of Kanwa; and what is Romanism but humanity developing itself in some of its most inveterate propensities?
14. He has gone to Soma tirtha.
A place of pilgrimage in the west of India, on the coast of Gujarat, near the temple of Somanath, or Somnat, made notorious by its gates, which were brought back from Ghazni by Lord Ellenborough's orders in 1842, and are now to be seen in the arsenal at Agra. These places of pilgrimage were generally fixed on the bank of some sacred stream, or in the vicinity of some holy spring. The word tirtha is derived from a Sanskrit root, tri, 'to cross,' implying that the river has to be passed through, either for the washing away of sin, or extrication from some adverse destiny. Thousands of devotees still flock to the most celebrated Tirthas on the Ganges, at Benares, Haridwar, etc.
15. Ingudi.
A tree, commonly called Ingua, or Jiyaputa, from the fruit of which oil was extracted, which the devotees used for their lamps and for ointment. One synonym for this tree is tapasa-taru, 'the anchorite's tree.'
16. Bark-woven vests.
Dresses made of bark, worn by ascetics, were washed in water, and then suspended to dry on the branches of trees.
17. By deep canals.
It was customary to dig trenches round the roots of trees, to collect the rain-water.
18. My throbbing arm.
A quivering sensation in the right arm was supposed by the Hindus to prognosticate union with a beautiful woman. Throbbings of the arm or eyelid, if felt on the right side, were omens of good fortune in men; if on the left, bad omens. The reverse was true of women. 19. The hard acacia's stem.
The Sami tree, a kind of acacia (Acacia Suma), the wood of which is very hard, and supposed by the Hindus to contain fire.
20. The lotus.
This beautiful plant, the varieties of which, white, blue, and red, are numerous, bears some resemblance to our water-lily. It is as favourite a subject of allusion and comparison with Hindu poets as the rose is with Persian.
21. With the Saivala entwined.
The Saivala (Vallisneria) is an aquatic plant, which spreads itself over ponds, and interweaves itself with the lotus. The interlacing of its stalks is compared in poetry to braided hair.
22. Yon Kesara tree.
The Kesara tree (Mimusops elengi) is the same as the Bakula, frequent mention of which is made is some of the Puranas. It bears a strong-smelling flower, which, according to Sir W. Jones, is ranked among the flowers of the Hindu paradise. The tree Is very ornamental in pleasure-grounds.
23. Would that my union with her were permissible.
A Brahman might marry a woman of the military or kingly class next below him, and the female offspring of such a marriage would belong to a mixed caste, and might be lawfully solicited in marriage by a man of the military class. But if Sakoontala were a pure Brahmani woman, both on the mother's and father's side, she would be ineligible as the wife of a Kshatriya king. Dushyanta discovers afterwards that she was, in fact, the daughter of the great Viswamitra (see note 27), who was of the same caste as himself, though her mother was the nymph Menaka.
24. I trust all is well with your devotional rites.
This was the regular formula of salutation addressed to persons engaged in religions exercises.
25. This water that we have brought with us will serve to bathe our guest's feet.
Water for the feet is one of the first things invariably provided for a guest in all Eastern countries. Compare Genesis xxiv. 32; Luke vii. 44. If the guest were a Brahman, or a man of rank, a respectful offering (argha) of rice, fruit, and flowers was next presented. In fact, the rites of hospitality in India were enforced by very stringent regulations. The observance of them ranked as one of the five great sacred rites, and no punishment was thought too severe for one who violated them. If a guest departed unhonoured from a house, his sins were to be transferred to the householder, and all the merits of the householder were to be transferred to him.
26. Sapta-parna tree.
A tree having seven leaves on a stalk (Echites scholaris).
27. Vis']wamitra, whose family name is Kausika.
In the Ramayana, the great sage Viswamitra (both king and saint), who raised himself by his austerities from the regal to the Brahmanical caste, is said to be the son of Gadhi, King of Kanuj, grandson of Kusanatha, and great-grandson of Kusika or Kusa. On his accession to the throne, in the room of his father Gadhi, in the course of a tour through his dominions, he visited the hermitage of the sage Vasishtha, where the Cow of Plenty, a cow granting all desires, excited his cupidity. He offered the sage untold treasures for the cow; but being refused, prepared to take it by force. A long war ensued between the king and the sage (symbolical of the struggles between the military and Brahmanical classes), which ended in the defeat of Viswamitra, whose vexation was such, that he devoted himself to austerities, in the hope of attaining the condition of a Brahman. The Ramayana recounts how, by gradually increasing the rigour of his penance through thousands of years, he successively earned the title of Royal Sage, Sage, Great Sage, and Brahman Sage. It was not till he had gained this last title that Vasishtha consented to acknowledge his equality with himself, and ratify his admission into the Brahmanical state. It was at the time of Viswamitra's advancement to the rank of a Sage, and whilst he was still a Kshatriya, that Indra, jealous of his increasing power, sent the nymph Menaka to seduce him from his life of mortification and continence. The Ramayana records his surrender to this temptation, and relates that the nymph was his companion in the hermitage for ten years, but does not allude to the birth of Sakoontala during that period.
28. The inferior gods, I am aware, are jealous.
According to the Hindu system, Indra and the other inferior deities were not the possessors of Swarga, or heaven, by indefeasible right. They accordingly viewed with jealousy, and even alarm, any extraordinary persistency by a human being in acts of penance, as it raised him to a level with themselves; and, if carried beyond a certain point, enabled him to dispossess them of Paradise. Indra was therefore the enemy of excessive self-mortification, and had in his service numerous nymphs who were called his 'weapons,' and whose business it was to impede by their seductions the devotion of holy men.
29. Gautami.
The name of the matron or Superior of the female part of the society of hermits. Every association of religious devotees seems to have included a certain number of women, presided over by an elderly and venerable matron, whose authority resembled that of an abbess in a convent of nuns.
30. Kusa-grass.
This grass was held sacred by the Hindus, and was abundantly used in all their religions ceremonies. Its leaves are very long, and taper to a sharp needle-like point, of which the extreme acuteness was proverbial; whence the epithet applied to a clever man, 'sharp as the point of Kusa-grass.' Its botanical name is Poa cynosuroides.
31. Kuruvaka.
A species of Jhinti or Barleria, with purple flowers, and covered with sharp prickles.
32. The Jester.
See an account of this character in the Introduction, p. xxxiv.
33. We have nothing to eat but roast game.
Indian game is often very dry and flavourless.
34. Attended by the Yavana women.
Who these women were has not been accurately ascertained. Yavana is properly Arabia, but is also a name applied to Greece. The Yavana women were therefore either natives of Arabia, or Greece, and their business was to attend upon the king, and take charge of his weapons, especially his bow and arrows. Professor H. H. Wilson, in his translation of the Vikramorvasi, where the same word occurs (Act V. p. 261), remarks that Tartarian or Bactrian women may be intended.
35. In the disc of crystal.
That is, the sun-gem (Surya-kanta, 'beloved by the sun'), a shining stone resembling crystal. Professor Wilson calls it a fabulous stone with fabulous properties, and mentions another stone, the moon-gem (chandra-kanta). It may be gathered from this passage that the sun-stone was a kind of glass lens, and that the Hindus were not ignorant of the properties of this instrument at the time when 'Sakoontala' was written.
36. Some fallen blossoms of the jasmine.
The jasmine here intended was a kind of double jasmine with a very delicious perfume, sometimes called 'Arabian jasmine' (Jasminum zambac). It was a delicate plant, and, as a creeper, would depend on some other tree for support. The Arka, or sun-tree (Gigantic Asclepias: Calotropis gigantea), on the other hand, was a large and vigorous shrub. Hence the former is compared to Sakoontala, the latter to the sage Kanwa.
37.
The mellowed fruit Of virtuous actions in some former birth.
The doctrine of the transmigration of the soul from one body to another is an essential dogma of the Hindu religion, and connected with it is the belief in the power which every human being possesses of laying up for himself a store of merit by good deeds performed in the present and former births. Indeed the condition of every person is supposed to derive its character of happiness or misery, elevation or degradation, from the virtues or vices of previous states of being. The consequences of actions in a former birth are called vipaka; they may be either good or bad, but are rarely unmixed with evil taint.
In the present comparison, however, they are described as pure and unalloyed. With reference to the first four lines of this stanza, compare Catullus, Carmen Nuptiale, verse 39.
'Ut flos in septis secretus nascitur hortis, Ignotus pecori, nullo contusus aratro, Quem mulcent aurae, firmat sol, educat imber: Multi illuum pueri, multae optavere puellae: Idem quum tenui carptus defloruit ungui, Nulli illum pueri, nallae optavere puellae: Sic virgo, dum intacta manet,' etc.
38. The sixth part of their grain.
According to Manu, a king might take a sixth part of liquids, flowers, roots, fruit, grass, etc.; but, even though dying with want, he was not to receive any tax from a Brahman learned in the Vedas.
39. A title only one degree removed from that of a Sage.
Dushyanta was a Rajarshi; that is, a man of the military class who had attained the rank of Royal Sage or Saint by the practice of religious austerities. The title of Royal or Imperial Sage was only one degree inferior to that of Sage. Compare note 27.
40. Chanted by inspired bards.
Or celestial minstrels, called Gandharvas. These beings were the musicians of Indra's heaven, and their business was to amuse the inhabitants of Swarga by singing the praises of gods, saints, or heroes. Compare note 11.
41. In their fierce warfare with the powers of hell.
Indra and the other inferior gods (compare note 11) were for ever engaged in hostilities with their half-brothers, the demons called Daityas, who were the giants or Titans of Hindu mythology. On such occasions the gods seem to have depended very much upon the assistance they received from mortal heroes.
42. Evil demons are disturbing our sacrificial rites.
The religious rites and sacrifices of holy men were often disturbed by certain evil spirits or goblins called Rakshasas, who were the determined enemies of piety and devotion. No great sacrifice or religious ceremony was ever carried on without an attempt on the part of these demons to impede its celebration; and the most renowned saints found it necessary on such occasions to acknowledge their dependence on the strong arm of the military class, by seeking the aid of warriors and heroes. The inability of holy men, who had attained the utmost limit of spiritual power, to cope with the spirits of evil, and the superiority of physical force in this respect, is very remarkable.
43. Vishnu.
Vishnu, the Preserver, was one of the three gods of the Hindu Triad. He became incarnate in various forms for the good of mortals, and is the great enemy of the demons.
14 Like king Trisanku.
The story of this monarch is told in the Ramayana. He is there described as a just and pious prince of the solar race, who aspired to celebrate a great sacrifice, hoping thereby to ascend to heaven in his mortal body. After various failures he had recourse to Viswamitra, who undertook to conduct the sacrifice, and invited all the gods to be present. They, however, refused to attend; upon which the enraged Viswamitra, by his own power, transported Trisanku to the skies, whither he had no sooner arrived than he was hurled down again by Indra and the gods; but being arrested in his downward course by the sage, he remained suspended between heaven and earth, forming a constellation in the southern hemisphere.
45. Ointment of Usira-root.
The root of a fragrant grass (Andropogon muricatum), from which a cooling ointment was made.
46. The very breath of his nostrils.
Compare Lam. iv. 20. 'The breath of our nostrils, the anointed of the Lord, was taken.'
47. God of the flowery shafts.
The Hindu Cupid, or god of love (Kama), is armed with a bow made of sugar-cane, the string of which consists of bees. He has five arrows, each tipped with the blossom of a flower, which pierce the heart through the five senses; and his favourite arrow is pointed with the chita, or mango-flower.
48. E'en now in thy unbodied essence lurks The fire of Siva's anger.
The story is thus told in the Ramayana. Kama (Cupid) once approached Siva that he might influence him with love for his wife, Parvati. Siva happened then to be practising austerities, and intent on a vow of chastity. He therefore cursed the god of love in a terrible voice, and at the same time a flash from his eye caused the god's body to shrivel into ashes. Thus Kama was made incorporeal, and from that time was called 'the bodiless one.'
49. Like the flame, That ever hidden in the secret depths Of ocean, smoulders there unseen.
This submarine fire was called Aurva, from the following fable. The Rishi Aurva, who had gained great power by his austerities, was pressed by the gods and others to perpetuate his race. He consented, but warned them that his offspring would consume the world. Accordingly, he created from his thigh a devouring fire, which, as soon as it was produced, demanded nourishment, and would have destroyed the whole earth, had not Brahma appeared and assigned the ocean as its habitation, and the waves as its food. The spot where it entered the sea was called 'the mare's mouth.' Doubtless the story was invented to suit the phenomenon of some marine volcano, which may have exhaled through the water bituminous inflammable gas, and which, perhaps in the form of a horse's mouth, was at times visible above the sea.
50 Who on his 'scutcheon bears the monster-fish.
The Hindu Cupid is said to have subdued a marine monster, which was, therefore, painted on his banner.
51 The graceful undulation of her gait.
Hansa-gamini, 'walking like a swan,' was an epithet for a graceful woman. The Indian lawgiver, Manu, recommends that a Brahman should choose for his wife a young maiden, whose gait was like that of a phoenicopter, or flamingo, or even like that of a young elephant. The idea in the original is, that the weight of her hips had caused the peculiar appearance observable in the print of her feet. Largeness of the hips was considered a great beauty in Hindu women, and would give an undulatory motion to their walk. 52 The Madhavi.
A large and beautiful creeper (Gaertnera racemosa), bearing white, fragrant flowers, to which constant allusion is made in Sanskrit plays.
53 Pines to be united with the Moon.
A complete revolution of the moon, with respect to the stars, being made in twenty-seven days, odd hours, the Hindus divide the heavens into twenty-seven constellations (asterisms) or lunar stations, one of which receives the moon for one day in each of his monthly journeys. As the Moon, Chandra, is considered to be a masculine deity, the Hindus fable these twenty-seven constellations as his wives, and personify them as the daughters of Daksha. Of these twenty-seven wives, twelve of whom give names to the twelve months, Chandra is supposed to show the greatest affection for the fourth, Rohini; but each of the others, and amongst them Visakha, is represented as jealous of this partiality, and eager to secure the Moon's favour for herself, Dushyanta probably means to compare himself to the Moon (he being of the Lunar race) and Sakoontala to Visakha.
54. Checks its fall.
Owing to emaciation and disuse of the bow, the callosities on the forearm, usually caused by the bow-string, were not sufficiently prominent to prevent the bracelet from slipping down from the wrist to the elbow, when the arm was raised to support the head. This is a favourite idea with Kalidasa to express the attenuation caused by love.
55. No nuptial rites prevail.
A marriage without the usual ceremonies is called Gandharva. It was supposed to be the form of marriage prevalent among the nymphs of India's heaven. In the 3rd Book of Manu (v. 22), it is included among the various marriage rites, and is said to be a union proceeding entirely from love, or mutual inclination, and concluded without any religious services, and without consulting relatives. It was recognized as a legal marriage by Manu and other lawgivers, though it is difficult to say in what respect it differed from unlawful cohabitation.
56. The loving birds doomed by fate to nightly separation.
That is, the male and female of the Chakravaka, commonly called Chakwa and Chakwi, or Brahmani duck (Anas casarca). These birds associate together during the day, and are, like turtle-doves, patterns of connubial affection; but the legend is, that they are doomed to pass the night apart, in consequence of a curse pronounced upon them by a saint whom they had offended. As soon as night commences, they take up their station on the opposite banks of a river, and call to each other in piteous cries. The Bengalis consider their flesh to be a good medicine for fever.
57. The great sage Durvasas.
A Saint or Muni, represented by the Hindu poets as excessively choleric and inexorably severe. The Puranas and other poems contain frequent accounts of the terrible effects of his imprecations on various occasions, the slightest offence being in his eyes deserving of the most fearful punishment. On one occasion he cursed Indra, merely because his elephant let fall a garland he had given to this god; and in consequence of this imprecation all plants withered, men ceased to sacrifice, and the gods were overcome in their wars with the demons.
58. Propitiatory offering.
Compare note 25.
59. His blushing charioteer.
Compare note 11.
60. Night-loving lotus.
Some species of the lotus, especially the white esculent kind, open their petals during the night, and close them during the day, whence the moon is often called the 'lover, or lord of the lotuses.'
61. The very centre of the sacred fire.
Fire was an important object of veneration with the Hindus, as with the ancient Persians. Perhaps the chief worship recognized in the Vedas is that of Fire and the Sun. The holy fire was deposited in a hallowed part of the house, or in a sacred building, and kept perpetually burning. Every morning and evening, oblations were offered to it by dropping clarified butter and other substances into the flame, accompanied with prayers and invocations.
62. As in the sacred tree the mystic fire.
Literally, 'as the Sami-tree is pregnant with fire.' The legend is, that the goddess Parvati, being one day under the influence of love, reposed on a trunk of this tree, whereby a sympathetic warmth was generated in the pith or interior of the wood, which ever after broke into a sacred flame on the slightest attrition.
63 Hastinapur.
The ancient Delhi, situated on the Ganges, and the capital of Dushyanta. Its site is about fifty miles from the modern Delhi, which is on the Jumna,
64 E'en as Yayati Sarmishtha adored,
Sarmishtha was the daughter of Vrishaparvan, king of the demons, and wife of Yayati, son of Nahusha, one of the princes of the Lunar dynasty, and ancestor of Dushyanta. Puru was the son of Yayati, by Sarmishtha.
65 And for whose encircling bed, Sacred Kusa-grass is spread.
At a sacrifice, sacred fires were lighted at the four cardinal points, and Kusa-grass was scattered around each fire, 66 Koil,
The Koil, or Kokil, is the Indian cuckoo. It is sometimes called Para-bhrita ('nourished by another'). because the female is known to leave her eggs in the nest of the crow to be hatched. The bird is as great a favourite with Indian poets as the nightingale with European. One of its names is 'Messenger of Spring.' Its note is a constant subject of allusion, and is described as beautifully sweet, and, if heard on a journey, indicative of good fortune. Everything, however, is beautiful by comparison. The song of the Koil is not only very dissimilar, but very inferior to that of the nightingale,
67 The peacock on the lawn Ceases its dance,
The Indian peacock is very restless, especially at the approach of rain, in which it is thought to take delight. Its circular movements are a frequent subject of allusion with Hindu poets, and are often by them compared to dancing.
68. The moonlight of the grove.
The name of Sakoontala's favourite jasmine, spoken of in the 1st Act. See page 15 of this volume.
69. Fig-tree.
Not the Banyan-tree (Ficus Indica), nor the Pippala (Ficus religiosa), but the Glomerous Fig-tree (Ficus glomerata), which yields a resinous milky juice from its bark, and is large enough to afford abundant shade.
70. The poor female Chakravaka.
Compare note 56.
71. Like a young tendril of the sandal-tree torn from its home in the western mountains.
The sandal is a kind of large myrtle with pointed leaves (Sirium myrtifolium). The wood affords many highly esteemed perfumes, unguents, etc., and is celebrated for its delicious scent. It is chiefly found on the slopes of the Malaya mountain or Western Ghauts on the Malabar coast. The roots of the tree are said to be infested with snakes. Indeed it seems to pay dearly for the fragrance of its wood: 'The root is infested by serpents, the blossoms by bees, the branches by monkeys, the summit by bears. In short there is not a part of the sandal-tree that is not occupied by the vilest impurities.' Hitopadesa, verse 162.
72. The calm seclusion of thy former home.
'When the father of a family perceives his own wrinkles and grey hair, committing the care of his wife to his sons, or accompanied by her, let him repair to the woods and become a hermit.'—Manu, vi. 2. It was usual for kings, at a certain time of life, to abdicate the throne in favour of the heir-apparent, and pass the remainder of their days in seclusion.
73. A frequent offering to our household gods.
This was an offering (bali) in honour of those spiritual beings called 'household deities,' which were supposed to hover round and protect houses. It was made by throwing up into the air in some part of the house (generally at the door) the remains of the morning and evening meal of rice or grain, uttering at the same time a mantra, or prayer.
74. In other states of being.
Dim recollections of occurrences in former states of existence are supposed occasionally to cross the mind. Compare note 37.
75. The Chamberlain.
The attendant on the women's apartment. He is generally a Brahman, and usually appears in the plays as a tottering and decrepit old man, leaning on his staff of office. 76. The king of serpents on his thousand heads.
A mythological serpent, the personification of eternity, and king of the Nagas, or snakes, who inhabit Patala, the lowermost of the seven regions below the earth. His body formed the couch of Vishnu, reposing on the waters of Chaos, whilst his thousand heads were the god's canopy. He is also said to uphold the world on one of his heads.
77. The chamber of the consecrated fire.
Compare note 61.
78. Two heralds.
These heralds were introduced into Hindu plays something in the same manner as a Chorus; and, although their especial duty was to announce, in measured verse, the periods of the day, and particularly the fixed divisions into which the king's day was divided, yet the strain which they poured forth frequently contained allusions to incidental circumstances. The royal office was no sinecure. From the Dasa-kumara, it appears that the day and night were each divided into eight portions of one hour and a half, reckoned from sunrise; and were thus distributed: Day—l. The king, being dressed, is to audit accounts; 2. He is to pronounce judgment in appeals; 3. He is to breakfast; 4. He is to receive and make presents; 5. He is to discuss political questions with his ministers; 6. He is to amuse himself; 7. He is to review his troops; 8. He is to hold a military council. Night—l. He is to receive the reports of his spies and envoys; 2. He is to sup or dine; 3. He is to retire to rest after the perusal of some sacred work; 4 and 5. He is to sleep; 6. He is to rise and purify himself; 7. He is to hold a private consultation with his ministers, and instruct his officers; 8. He is to attend upon the Purohita or family priest, for the performance of religious ceremonies. See Wilson's Hindu Theatre, vol. i. p. 209.
79. Feeling a quivering sensation in her right eyelid.
Compare note 18.
80. The protector of the four classes of the people, the guardian of the four conditions of the priesthood.
A remarkable feature in the ancient Hindu social system, as depicted in the plays, was the division of the people into four classes or castes:—1st. The sacerdotal, consisting of the Brahmans.—2nd. The military, consisting of fighting men, and including the king himself and the royal family. This class enjoyed great privileges, and must have been practically the most powerful.—3rd. The commercial, including merchants and husbandmen.—4th. The servile, consisting of servants and slaves. Of these four divisions the first alone has been preserved in its purity to the present day, although the Rajputs claim to be the representatives of the second class. The others have been lost in a multitude of mixed castes formed by intermarriage, and bound together by similarity of trade or occupation. With regard to the sacerdotal class, the Brahmans, who formed it, were held to be the chief of all human beings; they were superior to the king, and their lives and property were protected by the most stringent laws. They were to divide their lives into four quarters, during which they passed through four states or conditions, viz. as religious students, as householders, as anchorites, and as religious mendicants.
81. That he is pleased with ill-assorted unions.
The god Brahma seems to have enjoyed a very unenviable notoriety as taking pleasure in ill-assorted marriages, and encouraging them by his own example in the case of his own daughter.
82. Sachi's sacred pool near Sakravatara.
Sakra is a name of the god Indra, and Sakravatara is a sacred place of pilgrimage where he descended upon earth. Sachi is his wife, to whom a Urtha, or holy bathing-place, was probably consecrated at the place where Sakoontala had performed her ablutions. Compare note 14.
83. The wily Koil.
Compare note 66.
84. With the discus or mark of empire in the lines of his hand.
When the lines of the right hand formed themselves into a circle, it was thought to be the mark of a future hero or emperor.
85. A most refined occupation, certainly!
Spoken ironically. The occupation of a fisherman, and, indeed, any occupation which involved the sin of slaughtering animals, was considered despicable. Fishermen, butchers, and leather-sellers were equally objects of scorn. In Lower Bengal the castes of Jaliyas and Bagdis, who live by fishing, etc., are amongst the lowest, and eke out a precarious livelihood by thieving and dacoity. |
|
