No More Learning

) _First woman_ (_looks at the boy. Anxiously_), Oh, the amulet
is not on his wrist.

_King_. Do not be anxious, mother. It fell while he was struggling
with the lion cub. (_He starts to pick it up_. )

_The two women_. Oh, don't, don't! (_They look at him_. ) He has
touched it! (_Astonished, they lay their hands on their bosoms, and
look at each other_. )

_King_. Why did you try to prevent me?

_First woman_. Listen, your Majesty. This is a divine and most potent
charm, called the Invincible. Marichi's holy son gave it to the baby
when the birth-ceremony was performed. If it falls on the ground, no
one may touch it except the boy's parents or the boy himself.

_King_. And if another touch it?

_First woman_. It becomes a serpent and stings him.

_King_. Did you ever see this happen to any one else?

_Both women_. More than once.

_King_ (_joyfully_). Then why may I not welcome my hopes fulfilled at
last? (_He embraces the boy_. )

_Second woman_. Come, Suvrata. Shakuntala is busy with her religious
duties. We must go and tell her what has happened. (_Exeunt ambo_. )

_Boy_. Let me go. I want to see my mother.

_King_. My son, you shall go with me to greet your mother.

_Boy_. Dushyanta is my father, not you.

_King_ (_smiling_). You show I am right by contradicting me. (_Enter_
SHAKUNTALA, _wearing her hair in a single braid_. )

_Shakuntala_ (_doubtfully_). I have heard that All-tamer's amulet did
not change when it should have done so. But I do not trust my own
happiness. Yet perhaps it is as Mishrakeshi told me. (_She walks
about_. )

_King_ (_looking at_ SHAKUNTALA. _With plaintive joy_). It is she. It
is Shakuntala.

The pale, worn face, the careless dress,
The single braid,
Show her still true, me pitiless,
The long vow paid.

_Shakuntala_ (_seeing the king pale with remorse. Doubtfully_). It is
not my husband. Who is the man that soils my boy with his caresses?
The amulet should protect him. _Boy_ (_running to his mother_).
Mother, he is a man that belongs to other people. And he calls me his
son.

_King_. My darling, the cruelty I showed you has turned to happiness.
Will you not recognise me?

_Shakuntala_ (_to herself_). Oh, my heart, believe it. Fate struck
hard, but its envy is gone and pity takes its place. It is my husband.

_King_.

Black madness flies;
Comes memory;
Before my eyes
My love I see.

Eclipse flees far;
Light follows soon;
The loving star
Draws to the moon.

_Shakuntala_. Victory, victo--(_Tears choke her utterance_. )

_King_.

The tears would choke you, sweet, in vain;
My soul with victory is fed,
Because I see your face again--
No jewels, but the lips are red.

_Boy_. Who is he, mother?

_Shakuntala_. Ask fate, my child. (_She weeps_. )

_King_.

Dear, graceful wife, forget;
Let the sin vanish;
Strangely did madness strive
Reason to banish.

Thus blindness works in men,
Love's joy to shake;
Spurning a garland, lest
It prove a snake. (_He falls at her feet_. )

_Shakuntala_. Rise, my dear husband. Surely, it was some old sin of
mine that broke my happiness--though it has turned again to happiness.
Otherwise, how could you, dear, have acted so? You are so kind. (_The
king rises_. ) But what brought back the memory of your suffering
wife? _King_. I will tell you when I have plucked out the dart of
sorrow.

'Twas madness, sweet, that could let slip
A tear to burden your dear lip;
On graceful lashes seen to-day,
I wipe it, and our grief, away. (_He does so_. )

_Shakuntala_ (_sees more clearly and discovers the ring_). My husband,
it is the ring!

_King_. Yes. And when a miracle recovered it, my memory returned.

_Shakuntala_. That was why it was so impossible for me to win your
confidence.

_King_. Then let the vine receive her flower, as earnest of her union
with spring.

_Shakuntala_. I do not trust it. I would rather you wore it.

(_Enter_ MATALI)

_Matali_. I congratulate you, O King, on reunion with your wife and on
seeing the face of your son.

_King_. My desires bear sweeter fruit because fulfilled through a
friend. Matali, was not this matter known to Indra?

_Matali_ (_smiling_. ) What is hidden from the gods? Come. Marichi's
holy son, Kashyapa, wishes to see you.

_King_. My dear wife, bring our son. I could not appear without you
before the holy one.

_Shakuntala_. I am ashamed to go before such parents with my husband.

_King_. It is the custom in times of festival. Come. (_They walk
about_. KASHYAPA _appears seated, with_ ADITI. )

_Kashyapa_ (_looking at the king_). Aditi,

'Tis King Dushyanta, he who goes before
Your son in battle, and who rules the earth,
Whose bow makes Indra's weapon seem no more
Than a fine plaything, lacking sterner worth.

_Aditi_. His valour might be inferred from his appearance.

_Matali_. O King, the parents of the gods look upon you with a glance
that betrays parental fondness. Approach them. _King_. Matali,

Sprung from the Creator's children, do I see
Great Kashyapa and Mother Aditi?
The pair that did produce the sun in heaven,
To which each year twelve changing forms are given;
That brought the king of all the gods to birth,
Who rules in heaven, in hell, and on the earth;
That Vishnu, than the Uncreated higher,
Chose as his parents with a fond desire.

_Matali_. It is indeed they.

_King_ (_falling before them_). Dushyanta, servant of Indra, does
reverence to you both.

_Kashyapa_. My son, rule the earth long.

_Aditi_. And be invincible. (SHAKUNTALA _and her son fall at their
feet_. )

_Kashyapa_. My daughter,

Your husband equals Indra, king
Of gods; your son is like his son;
No further blessing need I bring:
Win bliss such as his wife has won.

_Aditi_. My child, keep the favour of your husband. And may this fine
boy be an honour to the families of both parents. Come, let us be
seated. (_All seat themselves_. )

_Kashyapa_ (_indicating one after the other_).

Faithful Shakuntala, the boy,
And you, O King, I see
A trinity to bless the world--
Faith, Treasure, Piety.

_King_. Holy one, your favour shown to us is without parallel. You
granted the fulfilment of our wishes before you called us to your
presence. For, holy one,

The flower comes first, and then the fruit;
The clouds appear before the rain;
Effect comes after cause; but you
First helped, then made your favour plain.

_Matali_. O King, such is the favour shown by the parents of the
world. _King_. Holy one, I married this your maid-servant by the
voluntary ceremony. When after a time her relatives brought her to me,
my memory failed and I rejected her. In so doing, I sinned against
Kanva, who is kin to you. But afterwards, when I saw the ring, I
perceived that I had married her. And this seems very wonderful to me.

Like one who doubts an elephant,
Though seeing him stride by,
And yet believes when he has seen
The footprints left; so I.

_Kashyapa_. My son, do not accuse yourself of sin. Your infatuation
was inevitable. Listen.

_King_. I am all attention.

_Kashyapa_. When the nymph Menaka descended to earth and received
Shakuntala, afflicted at her rejection, she came to Aditi. Then I
perceived the matter by my divine insight. I saw that the unfortunate
girl had been rejected by her rightful husband because of Durvasas'
curse. And that the curse would end when the ring came to light.

_King_ (_with a sigh of relief. To himself_). Then I am free from
blame.

_Shakuntala_ (_to herself_). Thank heaven! My husband did not reject
me of his own accord. He really did not remember me. I suppose I did
not hear the curse in my absent-minded state, for my friends warned me
most earnestly to show my husband the ring.

_Kashyapa_. My daughter, you know the truth. Do not now give way to
anger against your rightful husband. Remember:

The curse it was that brought defeat and pain;
The darkness flies; you are his queen again.
Reflections are not seen in dusty glass,
Which, cleaned, will mirror all the things that pass.

_King_. It is most true, holy one.

_Kashyapa_. My son, I hope you have greeted as he deserves the son
whom Shakuntala has borne you, for whom I myself have performed the
birth-rite and the other ceremonies.

_King_. Holy one, the hope of my race centres in him.

_Kashyapa_. Know then that his courage will make him emperor.
Journeying over every sea,
His car will travel easily;
The seven islands of the earth
Will bow before his matchless worth;
Because wild beasts to him were tame,
All-tamer was his common name;
As Bharata he shall be known,
For he will bear the world alone.

_King_. I anticipate everything from him, since you have performed the
rites for him.

_Aditi_. Kanva also should be informed that his daughter's wishes are
fulfilled. But Menaka is waiting upon me here and cannot be spared.

_Shakuntala_ (_to herself_). The holy one has expressed my own desire.

_Kashyapa_. Kanva knows the whole matter through his divine insight.
(_He reflects_. ) Yet he should hear from us the pleasant tidings, how
his daughter and her son have been received by her husband. Who waits
without? (_Enter a pupil_. )

_Pupil_. I am here, holy one.

_Kashyapa_. Galava, fly through the air at once, carrying pleasant
tidings from me to holy Kanva. Tell him how Durvasas' curse has come
to an end, how Dushyanta recovered his memory, and has taken
Shakuntala with her child to himself.

_Pupil_. Yes, holy one. (_Exit_. )

_Kashyapa_ (_to the king_). My son, enter with child and wife the
chariot of your friend Indra, and set out for your capital.

_King_. Yes, holy one.

_Kashyapa_. For now

May Indra send abundant rain,
Repaid by sacrificial gain;
With aid long mutually given,
Rule you on earth, and he in heaven.

_King_. Holy one, I will do my best.

_Kashyapa_. What more, my son, shall I do for you?

_King_. Can there be more than this? Yet may this prayer be fulfilled.

May kingship benefit the land,
And wisdom grow in scholars' band;
May Shiva see my faith on earth
And make me free of all rebirth.

(_Exeunt omnes_. )

* * * * *




THE STORY OF SHAKUNTALA


In the first book of the vast epic poem _Mahabharata_, Kalidasa found
the story of Shakuntala. The story has a natural place there, for
Bharata, Shakuntala's son, is the eponymous ancestor of the princes
who play the leading part in the epic.

With no little abbreviation of its epic breadth, the story runs as
follows:--

THE EPIC TALE

Once that strong-armed king, with a mighty host of men and chariots,
entered a thick wood. Then when the king had slain thousands of wild
creatures, he entered another wood with his troops and his chariots,
intent on pursuing a deer. And the king beheld a wonderful, beautiful
hermitage on the bank of the sacred river Malini; on its bank was the
beautiful hermitage of blessed, high-souled Kanva, whither the great
sages resorted. Then the king determined to enter, that he might see
the great sage Kanva, rich in holiness. He laid aside the insignia of
royalty and went on alone, but did not see the austere sage in the
hermitage. Then, when he did not see the sage, and perceived that the
hermitage was deserted, he cried aloud, "Who is here? " until the
forest seemed to shriek. Hearing his cry, a maiden, lovely as Shri,
came from the hermitage, wearing a hermit garb. "Welcome! " she said at
once, greeting him, and smilingly added: "What may be done for you? "
Then the king said to the sweet-voiced maid: "I have come to pay
reverence to the holy sage Kanva. Where has the blessed one gone,
sweet girl? Tell me this, lovely maid. " Shakuntala said: "My blessed
father has gone from the hermitage to gather fruits. Wait a moment.
You shall see him when he returns. "

The king did not see the sage, but when the lovely girl of the fair
hips and charming smile spoke to him, he saw that{} she was radiant in
her beauty, yes, in her hard vows and self-restraint all youth and
beauty, and he said to her:

"Who are you? Whose are you, lovely maiden? Why did you come to the
forest? Whence are you, sweet girl, so lovely and so good? Your beauty
stole my heart at the first glance. I wish to know you better. Answer
me, sweet maid. "

The maiden laughed when thus questioned by the king in the hermitage,
and the words she spoke were very sweet: "O Dushyanta, I am known as
blessed Kanva's daughter, and he is austere, steadfast, wise, and of a
lofty soul. "

Dushyanta said: "But he is chaste, glorious maid, holy, honoured by
the world. Though virtue should swerve from its course, he would not
swerve from the hardness of his vow. How were you born his daughter,
for you are beautiful? I am in great perplexity about this. Pray
remove it. "

[Shakuntala here explains how she is the child of a sage and a nymph,
deserted at birth, cared for by birds (_shakuntas_), found and reared
by Kanva, who gave her the name Shakuntala. ]

Dushyanta said: "You are clearly a king's daughter, sweet maiden, as
you say. Become my lovely wife. Tell me, what shall I do for you? Let
all my kingdom be yours to-day. Become my wife, sweet maid. "

Shakuntala said: "Promise me truly what I say to you in secret. The
son that is born to me must be your heir. If you promise, Dushyanta, I
will marry you. "

"So be it," said the king without thinking, and added: "I will bring
you too to my city, sweet-smiling girl. "

So the king took the faultlessly graceful maiden by the hand and dwelt
with her. And when he had bidden her be of good courage, he went
forth, saying again and again: "I will send a complete army for you,
and tell them to bring my sweet-smiling bride to my palace. " When he
had made this promise, the king went thoughtfully to find Kanva. "What
will he do when he hears it, this holy, austere man? " he wondered, and
still thinking, he went back to his capital.

Now the moment he was gone, Kanva came to the hermitage. And
Shakuntala was ashamed and did not come to meet her father. But
blessed, austere Kanva had divine discernment. He discovered her, and
seeing the matter with celestial vision, he was pleased and said:
"What you have done, dear, to-day, forgetting me and meeting a man,
this does not break the law. A man who loves may marry secretly the
woman who loves him without a ceremony; and Dushyanta is virtuous and
noble, the best of men. Since you have found a loving husband,
Shakuntala, a noble son shall be born to you, mighty in the world. "

Sweet Shakuntala gave birth to a boy of unmeasured prowess. His hands
were marked with the wheel, and he quickly grew to be a glorious boy.
As a six years' child in Kanva's hermitage he rode on the backs of
lions, tigers, and boars near the hermitage, and tamed them, and ran
about playing with them. Then those who lived in Kanva's hermitage
gave him a name. "Let him be called All-tamer," they said: "for he
tames everything. "

But when the sage saw the boy and his more than human deeds, he said
to Shakuntala: "It is time for him to be anointed crown prince. " When
he saw how strong the boy was, Kanva said to his pupils: "Quickly
bring my Shakuntala and her son from my house to her husband's palace.
A long abiding with their relatives is not proper for married women.
It destroys their reputation, and their character, and their virtue;
so take her without delay. " "We will," said all the mighty men, and
they set out with Shakuntala and her son for Gajasahvaya.

When Shakuntala drew near, she was recognised and invited to enter,
and she said to the king: "This is your son, O King. You must anoint
him crown prince, just as you promised before, when we met. "

When the king heard her, although he remembered her, he said: "I do
not remember. To whom do you belong, you wicked hermit-woman? I do not
remember a union with you for virtue, love, and wealth. [1] Either go
or stay, or do whatever you wish. "

When he said this, the sweet hermit-girl half fainted from shame and
grief, and stood stiff as a pillar. Her eyes darkened with passionate
indignation; her lips quivered; she seemed to consume the king as she
gazed at him with sidelong glances. Concealing her feelings and nerved
by anger, she held in check the magic power that her ascetic life had
given her. She seemed to meditate a moment, overcome by grief and
anger. She gazed at her husband, then spoke passionately: "O shameless
king, although you know, why do you say, 'I do not know,' like any
other ordinary man? "

Dushyanta said: "I do not know the son born of you, Shakuntala. Women
are liars. Who will believe what you say? Are you not ashamed to say
these incredible things, especially in my presence? You wicked
hermit-woman, go! "

Shakuntala said: "O King, sacred is holy God, and sacred is a holy
promise. Do not break your promise, O King. Let your love be sacred.
If you cling to a lie, and will not believe, alas! I must go away;
there is no union with a man like you. For even without you,
Dushyanta, my son shall rule this foursquare earth adorned with kingly
mountains. "

When she had said so much to the king, Shakuntala started to go. But a
bodiless voice from heaven said to Dushyanta: "Care for your son,
Dushyanta. Do not despise Shakuntala. You are the boy's father.
Shakuntala tells the truth. "

When he heard the utterance of the gods, the king joyfully said to his
chaplain and his ministers: "Hear the words of this heavenly
messenger. If I had received my son simply because of her words, he
would be suspected by the world, he would not be pure. "

Then the king received his son gladly and joyfully. He kissed his head
and embraced him lovingly. His wife also Dushyanta honoured, as
justice required. And the king soothed her, and said: "This union
which I had with you was hidden from the world. Therefore I hesitated,
O Queen, in order to save your reputation. And as for the cruel words
you said to me in an excess of passion, these I pardon you, my
beautiful, great-eyed darling, because you love me. "

Then King Dushyanta gave the name Bharata to Shakuntala's son, and had
him anointed crown prince.

It is plain that this story contains the material for a good play; the
very form of the epic tale is largely dramatic. It is also plain, in a
large way, of what nature are the principal changes which a dramatist
must introduce in the original. For while Shakuntala is charming in
the epic story, the king is decidedly contemptible. Somehow or other,
his face must be saved.

To effect this, Kalidasa has changed the old story in three important
respects. In the first place, he introduces the curse of Durvasas,
clouding the king's memory, and saving him from moral responsibility
in his rejection of Shakuntala. That there may be an ultimate recovery
of memory, the curse is so modified as to last only until the king
shall see again the ring which he has given to his bride. To the
Hindu, curse and modification are matters of frequent occurrence; and
Kalidasa has so delicately managed the matter as not to shock even a
modern and Western reader with a feeling of strong improbability. Even
to us it seems a natural part of the divine cloud that envelops the
drama, in no way obscuring human passion, but rather giving to human
passion an unwonted largeness and universality.

In the second place, the poet makes Shakuntala undertake her journey
to the palace before her son is born. Obviously, the king's character
is thus made to appear in a better light, and a greater probability is
given to the whole story.

The third change is a necessary consequence of the first; for without
the curse, there could have been no separation, no ensuing remorse,
and no reunion.

But these changes do not of themselves make a drama out of the epic
tale. Large additions were also necessary, both of scenes and of
characters. We find, indeed, that only acts one and five, with a part
of act seven, rest upon the ancient text, while acts two, three, four,
and six, with most of seven, are a creation of the poet. As might have
been anticipated, the acts of the former group are more dramatic,
while those of the latter contribute more of poetical charm. It is
with these that scissors must be chiefly busy when the play--rather
too long for continuous presentation as it stands--is performed on the
stage.

In the epic there are but three characters--Dushyanta, Shakuntala,
Kanva, with the small boy running about in the background. To these
Kalidasa has added from the palace, from the hermitage, and from the
Elysian region which is represented with vague precision in the last
act.

The conventional clown plays a much smaller part in this play than in
the others which Kalidasa wrote. He has also less humour. The real
humorous relief is given by the fisherman and the three policemen in
the opening scene of the sixth act. This, it may be remarked, is the
only scene of rollicking humour in Kalidasa's writing.

The forest scenes are peopled with quiet hermit-folk. Far the most
charming of these are Shakuntala's girl friends. The two are
beautifully differentiated: Anusuya grave, sober; Priyamvada
vivacious, saucy; yet wonderfully united in friendship and in devotion
to Shakuntala, whom they feel to possess a deeper nature than theirs.

Kanva, the hermit-father, hardly required any change from the epic
Kanva. It was a happy thought to place beside him the staid, motherly
Gautami. The small boy in the last act has magically become an
individual in Kalidasa's hands. In this act too are the creatures of a
higher world, their majesty not rendered too precise.

Dushyanta has been saved by the poet from his epic shabbiness; it may
be doubted whether more has been done. There is in him, as in some
other Hindu heroes, a shade too much of the meditative to suit our
ideal of more alert and ready manhood.

But all the other characters sink into insignificance beside the
heroine. Shakuntala dominates the play. She is actually on the stage
in five of the acts, and her spirit pervades the other two, the second
and the sixth. Shakuntala has held captive the heart of India for
fifteen hundred years, and wins the love of increasing thousands in
the West; for so noble a union of sweetness with strength is one of
the miracles of art.

Though lovely women walk the world to-day
By tens of thousands, there is none so fair
In all that exhibition and display
With her most perfect beauty to compare--

because it is a most perfect beauty of soul no less than of outward
form. Her character grows under our very eyes. When we first meet her,
she is a simple maiden, knowing no greater sorrow than the death of a
favourite deer; when we bid her farewell, she has passed through happy
love, the mother's joys and pains, most cruel humiliation and
suspicion, and the reunion with her husband, proved at last not to
have been unworthy. And each of these great experiences has been met
with a courage and a sweetness to which no words can render justice.

Kalidasa has added much to the epic tale; yet his use of the original
is remarkably minute. A list of the epic suggestions incorporated in
his play is long. But it is worth making, in order to show how keen is
the eye of genius. Thus the king lays aside the insignia of royalty
upon entering the grove (Act I). Shakuntala appears in hermit garb, a
dress of bark (Act I). The quaint derivation of the heroine's name
from _shakunta_--bird--is used with wonderful skill in a passage (Act
VII) which defies translation, as it involves a play on words. The
king's anxiety to discover whether the maiden's father is of a caste
that permits her to marry him is reproduced (Act I). The marriage
without a ceremony is retained (Act IV), but robbed of all offence.
Kanva's celestial vision, which made it unnecessary for his child to
tell him of her union with the king, is introduced with great delicacy
(Act IV). The curious formation of the boy's hand which indicated
imperial birth adds to the king's suspense (Act VII). The boy's rough
play with wild animals is made convincing (Act VII) and his very
nickname All-tamer is preserved (Act VII). Kanva's worldly wisdom as
to husband and wife dwelling together is reproduced (Act IV). No small
part of the give-and-take between the king and Shakuntala is given
(Act V), but with a new dignity.

Of the construction of the play I speak with diffidence. It seems
admirable to me, the apparently undue length of some scenes hardly
constituting a blemish, as it was probably intended to give the actors
considerable latitude of choice and excision. Several versions of the
text have been preserved; it is from the longer of the two more
familiar ones that the translation in this volume has been made. In
the warm discussion over this matter, certain technical arguments of
some weight have been advanced in favour of this choice; there is also
a more general consideration which seems to me of importance. I find
it hard to believe that any lesser artist could pad such a
masterpiece, and pad it all over, without making the fraud apparent on
almost every page. The briefer version, on the other hand, might
easily grow out of the longer, either as an acting text, or as a
school-book.

We cannot take leave of Shakuntala in any better way than by quoting
the passage[2] in which Levi's imagination has conjured up "the
memorable _premiere_ when Shakuntala saw the light, in the presence of
Vikramaditya and his court. "

La fete du printemps approche; Ujjayini, la ville aux riches
marchands et la capitale intellectuelle de l'Inde, glorieuse et
prospere sous un roi victorieux et sage, se prepare a celebrer
la solennite avec une pompe digne de son opulence et de son
gout. . . . L'auteur applaudi de Malavika . .