A History of Sanskrit Literature Part 20

Usually the first seven cantos only are to be found in the printed editions, owing to the excessively erotic character of the remaining ten. The poem concludes with an account of the destruction of the demon Taraka, the object for which the G.o.d of war was born.

More than twenty commentaries on the k.u.mara-sambhava have been preserved. Several of them are by the same authors, notably Mallinatha, as those on the Raghuvamca.

The subject-matter of the later Kavyas, which is derived from the two great epics, becomes more and more mixed up with lyric, erotic, and didactic elements. It is increasingly regarded as a means for the display of elaborate conceits, till at last nothing remains but bombast and verbal jugglery. The Bhatti-kavya, written in Valabhi under King cridharasena, probably in the seventh century, and ascribed by various commentators to the poet and grammarian Bhartrihari (died 651 A.D.), deals in 22 cantos with the story of Rama, but only with the object of ill.u.s.trating the forms of Sanskrit grammar.

The Kiratarjuniya describes, in eighteen cantos, the combat, first narrated in the Mahabharata, between civa, in the guise of a Kirata or mountaineer, and Arjuna. It cannot have been composed later than the sixth century, as its author, Bharavi, is mentioned in an inscription of 634 A.D. The fifteenth canto of this poem contains a number of stanzas ill.u.s.trating all kinds of verbal tricks like those described in Dandin's Kavyadarca. Thus one stanza (14) contains no consonant but n (excepting a t at the end); [10] while each half-line in a subsequent one (25), if its syllables be read backwards, is identical with the other half. [11]

The cicupala-vadha, or "Death of cicupala," describes, in twenty cantos, how that prince, son of a king of Chedi, and cousin of Krishna, was slain by Vishnu. Having been composed by the poet Magha, it also goes by the name of Magha-kavya. It probably dates from the ninth, and must undoubtedly have been composed before the end of the tenth century. The nineteenth canto is full of metrical puzzles, some of a highly complex character (e.g. 29). It contains an example of a stanza (34) which, if read backwards, is identical with the preceding one read in the ordinary way. At the same time this Kavya is, as a whole, by no means lacking in poetical beauties and striking thoughts.

The Naishadhiya (also called Naishadha-charita), in twenty-two cantos, deals with the story of Nala, king of Nishada, the well-known episode of the Mahabharata. It was composed by criharsha, who belongs to the latter half of the twelfth century.

These six artificial epics are recognised as Mahakavyas, or "Great Poems," and have all been commented on by Mallinatha. The characteristics of this higher cla.s.s are set forth by Dandin in his Kavyadarca, or "Mirror of Poetry" (i. 14-19). Their subjects must be derived from epic story (itihasa), they should be extensive, and ought to be embellished with descriptions of cities, seas, mountains, seasons, sunrise, weddings, battles fought by the hero, and so forth.

An extensive Mahakavya, in fifty cantos, is the Haravijaya, or "Victory of civa," by a Kashmirian poet named Ratnakara, who belongs to the ninth century.

Another late epic, narrating the fortunes of the same hero as the Naishadhiya, is the Nalodaya, or "Rise of Nala," which describes the restoration to power of King Nala after he had lost his all. Though attributed to Kalidasa, it is unmistakably the product of a much later age. The chief aim of the author is to show off his skill in the manipulation of the most varied and artificial metres, as well as all the elaborate tricks of style exhibited in the latest Kavyas. Rhyme even is introduced, and that, too, not only at the end of, but within metrical lines. The really epic material is but scantily treated, narrative making way for long descriptions and lyrical effusions. Thus the second and longest of the four cantos of the poem is purely lyrical, describing only the bliss of the newly-wedded pair, with all kinds of irrelevant additions.

The culmination of artificiality is attained by the Raghava-pandaviya, a poem composed by Kaviraja, who perhaps flourished about A.D. 800. It celebrates simultaneously the actions of Raghava or Rama and of the Pandava princes. The composition is so arranged that by the use of ambiguous words and phrases the story of the Ramayana and the Mahabharata is told at one and the same time. The same words, according to the sense in which they are understood, narrate the events of each epic. A tour de force of this kind is doubtless unique in the literatures of the world. Kaviraja has, however, found imitators in India itself.

A Mahakavya which is as yet only known in MS. is the Navasahasanka-charita, a poem celebrating the doings of Navasahasanka, otherwise Sindhuraja, a king of Malava, and composed by a poet named Padmagupta, who lived about 1000 A.D. It consists of eighteen cantos, containing over 1500 stanzas in nineteen different metres. The poet refrains from the employment of metrical tricks; but he greatly impedes the progress of the narrative by introducing interminable speeches and long-winded descriptions.

We may mention, in conclusion, that there is also an epic in Prakrit which is attributed to Kalidasa. This is the Setu-bandha, "Building of the Bridge," or Ravanavadha, "Death of Ravana," which relates the story of Rama. It is supposed to have been composed by the poet to commemorate the building of a bridge of boats across the Vitasta (Jhelum) by King Pravarasena of Kashmir.

There are a few prose romances dating from the sixth and seventh centuries, which being cla.s.sed as Kavyas by the Sanskrit writers on poetics, may be mentioned in this place. The abundant use of immense compounds, which of course makes them very difficult reading, is an essential characteristic of the style of these works. As to their matter, they contain but little action, consisting largely of scenes which are strung together by a meagre thread of narrative, and are made the occasion of lengthy descriptions full of long strings of comparisons and often teeming with puns. In spite, however, of their highly artificial and involved style, many really poetical thoughts may be found embedded in what to the European taste is an unattractive setting.

The Daca-k.u.mara-charita, or "Adventures of the Ten Princes," contains stories of common life and reflects a corrupt state of society. It is by Dandin, and probably dates from the sixth century A.D. Vasavadatta, by Subandhu, relates the popular story of the heroine Vasavadatta, princess of Ujjayini, and Udayana, king of Vatsa. It was probably written quite at the beginning of the seventh century. Slightly later is Bana's Kadambari, a poetical romance narrating the fortunes of a princess of that name. Another work of a somewhat similar character by the same author is the Harsha-charita, a romance in eight chapters, in which Bana attempts to give some account of the life of King Harshavardhana of Kanauj. There is, however, but little narrative. Thus in twenty-five pages of the eighth chapter there are to be found five long descriptions, extending on the average to two pages, to say nothing of shorter ones. There is, for instance, a long disquisition, covering four pages, and full of strings of comparisons, about the miseries of servitude. A servant, "like a painted bow, is for ever bent in the one act of distending a string of imaginary virtues, but there is no force in him; like a heap of dust-sweepings gathered by a broom, he carries off toilet-leavings; like the meal offered to the Divine Mothers, he is cast out into s.p.a.ce even at night; like a pumping machine, he has left all weight behind him and bends even for water," and so on. Soon after comes a description, covering two pages, of the trees in a forest. This is immediately followed by another page enumerating the various kinds of students thronging the wood in order to avail themselves of the teaching of a great Buddhist sage; they even include monkeys busily engaged in ritual ceremonies, devout parrots expounding a Buddhist dictionary, owls lecturing on the various births of Buddha, and tigers who have given up eating flesh under the calming influence of Buddhist teaching. Next comes a page describing the sage himself. "He was clad in a very soft red cloth, as if he were the eastern quarter of the sky bathed in the morning sunshine, teaching the other quarters to a.s.sume the red Buddhist attire, while they were flushed with the pure red glow of his body like a ruby freshly cut." Soon after comes a long account, bristling with puns, of a disconsolate princess lying prostrate in the wood--"lost in the forest and in thought, bent upon death and the root of a tree, fallen upon calamity and her nurse's bosom, parted from her husband and happiness, burned with the fierce sunshine and the woes of widowhood, her mouth closed with silence as well as by her hand, and held fast by her companions as well as by grief. I saw her with her kindred and her graces all gone, her ears and her soul left bare, her ornaments and her aims abandoned, her bracelets and her hopes broken, her companions and the needle-like gra.s.s-spears clinging round her feet, her eye and her beloved fixed within her bosom, her sighs and her hair long, her limbs and her merits exhausted, her aged attendants and her streaming tears falling down at her feet," and so forth.

CHAPTER XII

LYRIC POETRY

(Circa 400-1100 A.D.)

Sanskrit lyrical poetry has not produced many works of any considerable length. But among these are included two of the most perfect creations of Kalidasa, a writer distinguished no less in this field than as an epic and a dramatic author. His lyrical talent is, indeed, also sufficiently prominent in his plays.

Kalidasa's Meghaduta, or "Cloud Messenger," is a lyrical gem which won the admiration of Goethe. It consists of 115 stanzas composed in the Mandakranta metre of four lines of seventeen syllables. The theme is a message which an exile sends by a cloud to his wife dwelling far away. The idea is applied by Schiller in his Maria Stuart, where the captive Queen of Scots calls on the clouds as they fly southwards to greet the land of her youth (act iii. sc. 1). The exile is a Yaksha or attendant of Kubera, the G.o.d of wealth, who for neglect of his duty has been banished to the groves on the slopes of Ramagiri in Central India. Emaciated and melancholy, he sees, at the approach of the rainy season, a dark cloud moving northwards. The sight fills his heart with yearning, and impels him to address to the cloud a request to convey a message of hope to his wife in the remote Himalaya. In the first half of the poem the Yaksha describes with much power and beauty the various scenes the cloud must traverse on its northward course: Mount Amrakuta, on whose peak it will rest after quenching with showers the forest fires; the Narmada, winding at the foot of the Vindhya hills; the town of Vidica (Bhilsa), and the stream of the Vetravati (Betwah); the city of Ujjayini (Ujjain) in the land of Avanti; the sacred region of Kurukshetra; the Ganges and the mountains from which she sprang, white with snowfields, till Alaka on Mount Kailasa is finally reached.

In the second half of the poem the Yaksha first describes the beauties of this city and his own dwelling there. Going on to paint in glowing colours the charms of his wife, her surroundings, and her occupations, he imagines her tossing on her couch, sleepless and emaciated, through the watches of the night. Then, when her eye rests on the window, the cloud shall proclaim to her with thunder-sound her husband's message, that he is still alive and ever longs to behold her:--

In creepers I discern thy form, in eyes of startled hinds thy glances, And in the moon thy lovely face, in peac.o.c.ks' plumes thy shining tresses; The sportive frown upon thy brow in flowing waters' tiny ripples: But never in one place combined can I, alas! behold thy likeness.

But courage, he says; our sorrow will end at last--we shall be re-united--

And then we will our hearts' desire, grown more intense by separation, Enjoy in nights all glorious and bright, with full-orbed autumn moonlight.

Then begging the cloud, after delivering his message, to return with rea.s.suring news, the exile finally dismisses him with the hope that he may never, even for a moment, be divided from his lightning spouse.

Besides the expression of emotion, the descriptive element is very prominent in this fine poem. This is still more true of Kalidasa's Ritusamhara, or "Cycle of the Seasons." That little work, which consists of 153 stanzas in six cantos, and is composed in various metres, is a highly poetical description of the six seasons into which cla.s.sical Sanskrit poets usually divide the Indian year. With glowing descriptions of the beauties of Nature, in which erotic scenes are interspersed, the poet adroitly interweaves the expression of human emotions. Perhaps no other work of Kalidasa's manifests so strikingly the poet's deep sympathy with Nature, his keen powers of observation, and his skill in depicting an Indian landscape in vivid colours.

The poem opens with an account of summer. If the glow of the sun is then too great during the day, the moonlit nights are all the more delightful to lovers. The moon, beholding the face of beauteous maidens, is beside itself with jealousy; then, too, it is that the heart of the wanderer is burnt by the fire of separation. Next follows a brilliant description of the effects of the heat: the thirst or lethargy it produces in serpent, lion, elephant, buffalo, boar, gazelle, peac.o.c.k, crane, frogs, and fishes; the devastation caused by the forest fire which devours trees and shrubs, and drives before it crowds of terror-stricken beasts.

The close heat is succeeded by the rains, which are announced by the approach of the dark heavy clouds with their banner of lightning and drum of thunder. Slowly they move accompanied by chataka birds, fabled to live exclusively on raindrops, till at length they discharge their water. The wild streams, like wanton girls, grasp in a trice the tottering trees upon their banks, as they rush onwards to the sea. The earth becomes covered with young blades of gra.s.s, and the forests clothe themselves with golden buds--

The mountains fill the soul with yearning thoughts of love, When rain-charged clouds bend down to kiss the tow'ring rocks, When all around upon their slopes the streams gush down, And throngs of peac.o.c.ks that begin to dance are seen.

Next comes the autumn, beauteous as a newly-wedded bride, with face of full-blown lotuses, with robe of sugarcane and ripening rice, with the cry of flamingoes representing the tinkling of her anklets. The graceful creepers vie with the arms of lovely women, and the jasmine, showing through the crimson ac.o.ka blossoms, rivals the dazzling teeth and red lips of smiling maidens.

Winter follows, when the rice ripens, while the lotus fades and the fields in the morning are covered with rime--

Then the Priyangu creeper, reaching ripeness, Buffeted constantly by chilling breezes, Grows, O Beloved, ever pale and paler, Like lonely maiden from her lover parted.

This is the time dear to lovers, whose joys the poet describes in glowing colours.

In the cold season a fire and the mild rays of the sun are pleasant. The night does not attract lovers now, for the moonbeams are cold and the light of the stars is pale.

The poet dwells longest on the delights of spring, the last of the six seasons. It is then that maidens, with karnikara flowers on their ears, with red ac.o.ka blossoms and sprays of jasmine in their locks, go to meet their lovers. Then the hum of intoxicated bees is heard, and the note of the Indian cuckoo; then the blossoms of the mango-tree are seen: these are the sharp arrows wherewith the G.o.d of the flowery bow enflames the hearts of maidens to love.

A lyric poem of a very artificial character, and consisting of only twenty-two stanzas, is the Ghata-karpara, or "Potsherd," called after the author's name, which is worked into the last verse. The date of the poet is unknown. He is mentioned as one of the "nine gems" at the court of the mythical Vikramaditya in the verse already mentioned.

The Chaura-panchacika, or "Fifty Stanzas of the Thief," is a lyrical poem which contains many beauties. Its author was the Kashmirian Bilhana, who belongs to the later half of the eleventh century. According to the romantic tradition, this poet secretly enjoyed the love of a princess, and when found out was condemned to death. He thereupon composed fifty stanzas, each beginning with the words "Even now I remember," in which he describes with glowing enthusiasm the joys of love he had experienced. Their effect on the king was so great that he forgave the poet and bestowed on him the hand of his daughter.

The main bulk of the lyrical creations of mediaeval India are not connected poems of considerable length, but consist of that miniature painting which, as with a few strokes, depicts an amatory situation or sentiment in a single stanza of four lines. These lyrics are in many respects cognate to the sententious poetry which the Indians cultivated with such eminent success. Bearing evidence of great wealth of observation and depth of feeling, they are often drawn by a master-hand. Many of them are in matter and form gems of perfect beauty. Some of their charm is, however, lost in translation owing to the impossibility of reproducing the elaborate metres employed in the original. Several Sanskrit poets composed collections of these miniature lyrics.

The most eminent of these authors is Bhartrihari, grammarian, philosopher, and poet in one. Only the literary training of India could make such a combination possible, and even there it has hardly a parallel. Bhartrihari lived in the first half of the seventh century. The Chinese traveller I Tsing, who spent more than twenty years in India at the end of that century, records that, having turned Buddhist monk, the poet again became a layman, and fluctuated altogether seven times between the monastery and the world. Bhartrihari blamed himself for, but could not overcome, his inconstancy. He wrote three centuries of detached stanzas. Of the first and last, which are sententious in character, there will be occasion to say something later. Only the second, ent.i.tled cringara-cataka, or "Century of Love," deals with erotic sentiment. Here Bhartrihari, in graceful and meditative verse, shows himself to be well acquainted both with the charms of women and with the arts by which they captivate the hearts of men. Who, he asks in one of these miniature poems, is not filled with yearning thoughts of love in spring, when the air swoons with the scent of the mango blossom and is filled with the hum of bees intoxicated with honey? In another he avers that none can resist the charms of lotus-eyed maidens, not even learned men, whose utterances about renouncing love are mere idle words. The poet himself laments that, when his beloved is away, the brightness goes out of his life--

Beside the lamp, the flaming hearth, In light of sun or moon and stars, Without my dear one's l.u.s.trous eyes This world is wholly dark to me.

At the same time he warns the unwary against reflecting over-much on female beauty--

Let not thy thoughts, O Wanderer, Roam in that forest, woman's form: For there a robber ever lurks, Ready to strike--the G.o.d of Love.