Sakoontala or The Lost Ring by Kalidasa

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[S']AKOONTALA

OR THE LOST RING

AN INDIAN DRAMA

TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH PROSE AND VERSE
FROM THE SANSKRIT OF KALIDASA

BY

SIR MONIER MONIER-WILLIAMS, K.C.I.E.
M.A., D.C.L., LL.D., PH.D.
BODEN PROFESSOR OF SANSKRIT, HON. FELLOW OF UNIVERSITY
AND LATE FELLOW OF BALLIOL COLLEGE, OXFORD

PREFACE TO THE EIGHTH EDITION.

The fact that the following translation (first published in 1855) of
India's most celebrated drama has gone through seven editions, might
reasonably have absolved me from the duty of revising it.

Three years ago, however, I heard that Sir John Lubbock had thought
'[S']akoontala' worthy of a place among the hundred best books of the
world, and had adopted my version of the original. I therefore
undertook to go through every line and once again compare the
translation with the Sanskrit, in the hope that I might be able to
give a few finishing touches to a performance which, although it had
been before the public for about forty years, was certainly not
perfect. The act of revision was a labour of love, and I can honestly
say that I did my best to make my representation of Kalidasa's
immortal work as true and trustworthy as possible.

Another edition is now called for, but after a severely critical
examination of every word, I have only detected a few minor
unimportant points--and those only in the Introduction and Notes--in
which any alteration appeared to be desirable. Indeed it is probable
that the possessors of previous editions will scarcely perceive that
any alterations have been made anywhere.

Occasionally in the process of comparison a misgiving has troubled me,
and I have felt inclined to accuse myself of having taken, in some
cases, too great liberties with the Sanskrit original. But in the end
I have acquiesced in my first and still abiding conviction that a
literal translation (such as that which I have given in the notes of
my edition of the Sanskrit text) might have commended itself to
Oriental students, but would not have given a true idea of the beauty
of India's most cherished drama to general readers, whose minds are
cast in a European mould, and who require a translator to clothe
Oriental ideas, as far as practicable, in a dress conformable to
European canons of taste.

And most assuredly such a translation would never have adapted itself
to actual representation on a modern stage as readily as it now
appears that my free version has done. It has gratified me exceedingly
to find that youthful English-speaking Indians--cultured young men
educated at the Universities of Calcutta, Madras and Bombay--have acted
the [S']akoontala, in the very words of my translation with the greatest
success before appreciative audiences in various parts of India.

And lest any one in this country should be sceptical as to the
possibility of interesting a modern audience in a play written
possibly as early as the third or fourth century of our era (see p.
xvi), I here append an extract from a letter received by me in 1893
from Mr. V. Padmanabha Aiyar, B.A., resident at Karamanai, Trivandrum,
Travancore.

'SIVEN COIL STREET, TRIVANDRUM,

_'May 1, 1893_.

'The members of the "Karamanai Young Men's Mutual Improvement Society"
acted your translation of "[S']akoontala" on the 3rd and 5th of
September last year, in the Government Museum Theatre, Trivandrum.

'It was acted in two parts. On the first day Acts I to IV were acted,
and on the second the remaining three Acts.

'All our chief native officials and many Europeans and their ladies
honoured the occasion with their presence. We acted it a second time
at the special request of H.H. the Second Prince of Travancore, in the
Palace of His Highness' mother, the Junior Ranee.

'The public were kind enough to pronounce it a success. In many cases
the applause given was not so much for the acting as for the beauty of
your translation. The Hindus have a great liking for this play, and
not one of the enlightened Hindu community will fail to acknowledge
your translation to be a very perfect one. Our object in acting Hindu
plays is to bring home to the Hindus the good lessons that our ancient
authors are able to teach us. If there is one lesson in these days
more than another which familiarity with the fountains of Western
literature constantly forces upon the mind, it is that our age is
turning its back on time-honoured creeds and dogmas. We are hurrying
forward to a chaos in which all our existing beliefs, nay even the
fundamental axioms of morality, may in the end be submerged; and as
the general tenor of Indian thought among the educated community is to
reject everything that is old, and equally blindly to absorb
everything new, it becomes more and more an urgent question whether
any great intellectual or moral revolution, which has no foundations
in the past, can produce lasting benefits to the people.

'"I desire no future that will break the ties of the past" is what
George Eliot has said, and so it is highly necessary that the Hindus
should know something of their former greatness.

'The songs in [S']akoontala, one in the Prologue and another in the
beginning of the fifth Act, very easily adapted themselves to Hindu
tunes.'

Towards the end of his letter Mr. Aiyar intimated that he himself took
the part of Ma[T.]Havya. He also mentioned that a few modifications and
additions were introduced into some of the scenes.

In a subsequent letter received from Mr. Keshava Aiyar, the Secretary
of the Society, I was informed that my version of the Play was acted
again at Trivandrum in 1894.

These descriptions of the successful representation of the [S']akoontala
in Travancore justified me in expressing a hope that, as Kalidasa has
been called the Shakespeare of India, so the most renowned of his
three dramatic works might, with a few manifestly necessary
modifications, be some day represented, with equal success, before
English-speaking audiences in other parts of the world and especially
here in England. This hope has been realized, and quite recently my
translation has been successfully acted by amateur actors before a
London audience.

I venture, therefore, to add the expression of a further hope that
with the daily growth of interest in Oriental literature, and now that
the [S']akoontala forms one of Sir John Lubbock's literary series, it
may be more extensively read by the Rulers of India in all parts of
the Empire. Those who study it attentively cannot fail to become
better acquainted with the customs and habits of thought, past and
present, of the people committed to their sway.

And it cannot be too often repeated that our duty towards our great
Dependency requires us to do something more than merely rule justly.
We may impart high education, we may make good laws, we may administer
impartial justice, we may make roads, lay down railroads and
telegraphs, stimulate trade, accomplish amazing engineering
feats--like that lately achieved at Periyar--increase the wealth and
develop the resources of our vast Eastern territories; but unless we
seek to understand the inhabitants, unless we think it worth while to
study their ancient literatures, their religious ideas, and
time-honoured institutions, unless we find in them something to admire
and respect, we can never expect any reciprocity of esteem and respect
on their part--we can never look forward to a time when the present
partition-wall, which obstructs the free Interchange of social
relations between European and Asiatic races, will be entirely
removed.

MONIER MONIER-WILLIAMS, _December, 1898_.

INTRODUCTION

About a century has elapsed since the great English Orientalist, Sir
William Jones, astonished the learned world by the discovery of a
Sanskrit Dramatic Literature. He has himself given us the history of
this discovery. It appears that, on his arrival in Bengal, he was very
solicitous to procure access to certain books called Nataks, of which
he had read in one of the 'Lettres Edifiantes et Curieuses' written by
the Jesuit Missionaries of China. But, although he sought information
by consulting both Brahmans and Europeans, he was wholly unable for
some time to satisfy his curiosity as to the nature of these books. It
was reported to him that they were not histories, as he had hoped, but
that they abounded with fables, and consisted of conversations in
prose and verse held before ancient Rajas, in their public assemblies.
Others, again, asserted that they were discourses on dancing, music,
and poetry. At length, a sensible Brahman, conversant with European
manners, removed all his doubts, and gave him no less delight than
surprise, by telling him that the English nation had compositions of
the same sort, which were publicly represented at Calcutta in the cold
season, and bore the name of 'plays.' The same Brahman, when asked
which of these Nataks was most universally esteemed, answered without
hesitation, '[S']akoontala.'

It may readily be imagined with what interest, the keen Orientalist
received this communication; with what rapidity he followed up the
clue; and, when at length his zeal was rewarded by actual possession
of a MS. copy of one of these dramas, with what avidity he proceeded
to explore the treasures which for eighteen hundred years had remained
as unknown to the European world as the gold-fields of Australia.

The earliest Sanskrit drama with which we are acquainted, the
'Clay-cart,' translated by my predecessor in the Boden Chair at
Oxford, Professor H.H. Wilson, is attributed to a regal author, King
[S']udraka, the date of whose reign cannot be fixed with any certainty,
though some have assigned it to the first or second century B.C.
Considering that the nations of Europe can scarcely be said to have
possessed a dramatic literature before the fourteenth or fifteenth
century of the present era, the great age of the Hindu plays would of
itself be a most interesting and attractive circumstance, even if
their poetical merit were not of a very high order. But when to the
antiquity of these productions is added their extreme beauty and
excellence as literary compositions, and when we also take into
account their value as representations of the early condition of Hindu
society--which, notwithstanding the lapse of two thousand years, has
in many particulars obeyed the law of unchangeableness ever stamped on
the manners and customs of the East--we are led to wonder that the
study of the Indian drama has not commended itself in a greater degree
to the attention of Europeans, and especially of Englishmen. The
English student, at least, is bound by considerations of duty, as well
as curiosity, to make himself acquainted with a subject which
elucidates and explains the condition of the millions of Hindus who
owe allegiance to his own Sovereign, and are governed by English laws.

Of all the Indian dramatists, indeed of all Indian poets, the most
celebrated is Kalidasa, the writer of the present play. The late
Professor Lassen thought it probable that he flourished about the
middle of the third century after Christ. Professor Kielhorn of
Goettingen has proved that the composer of the Mandasor Inscription
(A.D. 472) knew Kalidasa's Ritusamhara. Hence it may be inferred that
Lassen was not far wrong[1]. Possibly some King named Vikramaditya
received Kalidasa at his Court, and honoured him by his patronage
about that time. Little, however, is known of the circumstances of his
life. There is certainly no satisfactory evidence to be adduced in
support of the tradition current in India that he lived in the time
of the _great_ King Vikramaditya I., whose capital was Ujjayini, now
Oujein.

From the absence of historical literature in India, our knowledge of
the state of Hindustan between the incursion of Alexander and the
Muhammadan conquest is very slight. But it is ascertained with
tolerable accuracy that, after the invasion of the kingdoms of Bactria
and Afghanistan, the Tartars or Scythians (called by the Hindus
'[S']akas') overran the north-western provinces of India, and retained
possession of them. The great Vikramaditya or Vikramarka succeeded in
driving back the barbaric hordes beyond the Indus, and so consolidated
his empire that it extended over the whole of Northern Hindustan. His
name is even now cherished among the Hindus with pride and affection.
His victory over the Scythians is believed to have taken place about
B.C. 57. At any rate this is the starting-point of the Vikrama (also
called the Malava and in later times the Samvat) era, one of the
epochs from which the Hindus still continue to count. There is good
authority for affirming that the reign of this Vikramarka or
Vikramaditya was equal in brilliancy to that of any monarch in any
age. He was a liberal patron of science and literature, and gave
splendid encouragement to poets, philologists, astronomers, and
mathematicians. Nine illustrious men of genius are said to have
adorned his Court, and to have been supported by his bounty. They were
called the 'Nine Gems'; and a not unnatural tradition, which, however,
must be considered untrustworthy, included Kalidasa among the Nine.

To Kalidasa (as to another celebrated Indian Dramatist, Bhavabhuti,
who probably flourished in the eighth century) only three plays are
attributed; and of these the '[S']akoontala' (here translated) has
acquired the greatest celebrity [2].

Indeed, the popularity of this play with the natives of India exceeds
that of any other dramatic, and probably of any other poetical
composition [3]. But it is not in India alone that the '[S']akoontala' is
known and admired. Its excellence is now recognized in every
literary circle throughout the continent of Europe; and its beauties,
if not yet universally known and appreciated, are at least
acknowledged by many learned men in every country of the civilized
world. The four well-known lines of Goethe, so often quoted in
relation to the Indian drama, may here be repeated:

'Willst du die Bluethe des fruehen, die Fruechte des
spaeteren Jahres,
Willst du was reizt und entzueckt, willst du was saettigt
und naehrt,
Willst du den Himmel, die Erde, mit einem Namen
begreifen:
Nenn' ich, [S']akoontala, Dich, und so ist Alles gesagt.'

'Would'st thou the young year's blossoms and the fruits
of its decline,
And all by which the soul is charmed, enraptured,
feasted, fed?
Would'st thou the Earth and Heaven itself in one sole
name combine?
I name thee, O [S']akoontala! and all at once is said.'

_E.B. Eastwick_.

Augustus William von Schlegel, in his first Lecture on Dramatic
Literature, says: 'Among the Indians, the people from whom perhaps all
the cultivation of the human race has been derived, plays were known
long before they could have experienced any foreign influence. It has
lately been made known in Europe that they have a rich dramatic
literature, which ascends back for more than two thousand years. The
only specimen of their plays (Nataks) hitherto known to us is the
delightful [S']akoontala, which, notwithstanding the colouring of a
foreign clime, bears in its general structure a striking resemblance
to our romantic drama.'

Alexander von Humboldt, in treating of Indian poetry, observes:
'Kalidasa, the celebrated author of the [S']akoontala, is a masterly
describer of the influence which Nature exercises upon the minds of
lovers. This great poet flourished at the splendid court of
Vikramaditya, and was, therefore, cotemporary with Virgil and Horace.
Tenderness in the expression of feeling, and richness of creative
fancy, have assigned to him his lofty place among the poets of all
nations'.

These considerations induced me, in 1853, to compile and publish an
edition of the text of the '[S']akoontala' from various original MSS.,
with English translations of the metrical passages, and explanatory
notes. A second edition of this work has since been published by the
Delegates of the Oxford University Press. To the notes of that edition
I must refer all students of Sanskrit literature who desire a close
and literal translation of the present drama, and in the Preface will
be found an account of various other editions and translations.

The following pages contain a _free_ translation, and the first
English version in prose and metre, of the purest recension of the
most celebrated drama of the Shakespeare of India.

The need felt by the British public for some such translation as I
have here offered can scarcely be questioned. A great people, who,
through their empire in India, command the destinies of the Eastern
world, ought surely to be conversant with the most popular of Indian
dramas, in which the customs of the Hindus, their opinions,
prejudices, and fables, their religious rites, daily occupations and
amusements, are reflected as in a mirror. Nor is the prose translation
of Sir W. Jones (excellent though it be) adapted to meet the
requirements of modern times. That translation was unfortunately made
from corrupt manuscripts (the best that could then be procured), in
which the bold phraseology of Kalidasa has been occasionally weakened,
his delicate expressions of refined love clothed in an unbecoming
dress, and his ideas, grand in their simplicity, diluted by repetition
or amplification. It is, moreover, altogether unfurnished with
explanatory annotations. The present translation, on the contrary,
while representing the purest version of the drama, has abundant
notes, sufficient to answer the exigencies of the non-oriental
scholar.

It may be remarked that in every Sanskrit play the women and inferior
characters speak a kind of provincial dialect or _patois_, called
Prakrit--bearing the relation to Sanskrit that Italian bears to Latin,
or that the spoken Latin of the age of Cicero bore to the highly
polished Latin in which he delivered his Orations. Even the heroine of
the drama is made to speak in the vernacular dialect. The hero, on the
other hand, and all the higher male characters, speak in Sanskrit; and
as if to invest them with greater dignity, half of what they say is in
verse. Indeed the prose part of their speeches is often very
commonplace, being only introductory to the lofty sentiment of the
poetry that follows. Thus, if the whole composition be compared to a
web, the prose will correspond to the warp, or that part which is
extended lengthwise in the loom, while the metrical portion will
answer to the cross-threads which constitute the woof.

The original verses are written in a great variety of Sanskrit metres.
For example, the first thirty-four verses of '[S']akoontala' exhibit
eleven different varieties of metre. No English metrical system could
give any idea of the almost infinite resources of Sanskrit in this
respect. Nor have I attempted it. Blank verse has been employed by me
in my translation, as more in unison with the character of our own
dramatic writings, and rhyming stanzas have only been admitted when
the subject-matter seemed to call for such a change. Perhaps the chief
consideration that induced me to adopt this mode of metrical
translation was, that the free and unfettered character of the verse
enabled me to preserve more of the freshness and vigour of the
original. If the poetical ideas of Kalidasa have not been expressed in
language as musical as his own, I have at least done my best to avoid
diluting them by unwarrantable paraphrases or additions. If the
English verses are prosaic, I have the satisfaction of knowing that by
resisting the allurements of rhyme, I have done all in my power to
avoid substituting a fictitious and meagre poem of my own for the
grand, yet simple and chaste creation of Kalidasa.

The unrestricted liberty of employing hypermetrical lines of eleven
syllables, sanctioned by the highest authority in dramatic
composition, has, I think, facilitated the attainment of this object.
One of our own poets has said in relation to such lines: 'Let it be
remembered that they supply us with another cadence; that they add, as
it were, a string to the instrument; and--by enabling the poet to
relax at pleasure, to rise and fall with his subject--contribute what
most is wanted, compass and variety. They are nearest to the flow of
an unstudied eloquence, and should therefore be used in the drama[4].'
Shakespeare does not scruple to avail himself of this licence four or
five times in succession, as in the well-known passage beginning--

'To be or not to be, that is the question';

and even Milton uses the same freedom once or twice in every page.

The poetical merit of Kalidasa's '[S']akoontala' is so universally
admitted that any remarks on this head would be superfluous. I will
merely observe that, in the opinion of learned natives, the Fourth
Act, which describes the departure of [S']akoontala from the hermitage,
contains the most obvious beauties; and that no one can read this Act,
nor indeed any part of the play, without being struck with the
richness and elevation of its author's genius, the exuberance and glow
of his fancy, his ardent love of the beautiful, his deep sympathy with
Nature and Nature's loveliest scenes, his profound knowledge of the
human heart, his delicate appreciation of its most refined feelings,
his familiarity with its conflicting sentiments and emotions. But in
proportion to the acknowledged excellence of Kalidasa's composition,
and in proportion to my own increasing admiration of its beauties, is
the diffidence I feel lest I may have failed to infuse any of the
poetry of the original into the present version. Translation of poetry
must, at the best, resemble the process of pouring a highly volatile
and evanescent spirit from one receptacle into another. The original
fluid will always suffer a certain amount of waste and evaporation.

The English reader will at least be inclined to wonder at the
analogies which a thoroughly Eastern play offers to our own dramatic
compositions written many centuries later. The dexterity with which
the plot is arranged and conducted, the ingenuity with which the
incidents are connected, the skill with which the characters are
delineated and contrasted with each other, the boldness and felicity
of the diction, are scarcely unworthy of the great dramatists of
European countries. Nor does the parallel fail in the management of
the business of the stage, in minute directions to the actors, and
various scenic artifices. The asides and aparts, the exits and the
entrances, the manner, attitude, and gait of the speakers, the tone of
voice with which they are to deliver themselves, the tears, the
smiles, and the laughter, are as regularly indicated as in a modern
drama.

In reference to the constitution and structure of the play here
translated, a few general remarks on the dramatic system of the Hindus
may be needed[5].

Dramatic poetry is said to have been invented by the sage Bharata,
who lived at a very remote period of Indian history, and was the
author of a system of music. The drama of these early times was
probably nothing more than the Indian Nach-dance (Nautch) of the
present day. It was a species of rude pantomime, in which dancing and
movements of the body were accompanied by mute gestures of the hands
and face, or by singing and music. Subsequently, dialogue was added,
and the art of theatrical representation was brought to great
perfection. Elaborate treatises were written which laid down minute
regulations for the construction and conduct of plays, and subjected
dramatic composition to highly artificial rules of poetical and
rhetorical style. For example, the Sahitya-darpana divides Sanskrit
plays into two great classes, the Rupaka or principal dramas, and the
Uparupaka or minor dramas. At the head of the ten species of Rupaka
stands the Nataka, of which the '[S']akoontala' is an example. It should
consist of from five to ten Acts; it should have a celebrated story
for its plot; it should represent heroic or godlike characters and
good deeds; it should be written in an elaborate style, and be full of
noble sentiments. Moreover, it should be composed like the end of a
cow's tail; so that each of the Acts be gradually shorter.

In India, as in Greece, scenic entertainments took place at religious
festivals, and on solemn public occasions. Kalidasa's '[S']akoontala'
seems to have been acted at the commencement of the summer season--a
period peculiarly sacred to Kama-deva, the Indian god of love. We are
told that it was enacted before an audience 'consisting chiefly of men
of education and discernment.' As the greater part of every play was
written in Sanskrit, which, although spoken by the learned in every
part of India even at the present day, was certainly not the
vernacular language of the country at the time when the Hindu dramas
were performed, few spectators would be present who were not of the
educated classes. This circumstance is in accordance with the
constitution of Hindu society, whereby the productions of literature
as well as the offices of state, were reserved for the privileged
castes[6].

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