VII

[Contents]VIICANDRA, HARṢA, AND MAHENDRAVIKRAMAVARMAN[Contents]1.Candra or CandrakaSome mystery exists as to the identity and character of Candra as a dramatist.1We have in a Tibetan version aLokānanda, a Buddhist drama telling of a certain Maṇicūḍa, who handed over his wife and children to a Brahmin as a sign of supreme generosity, which is ascribed to Candragomin, the grammarian, in whoseÇiṣyalekhāis found a verse ascribed to Candragopin in theSubhāṣitāvali. If this is the dramatist Candaka or Candraka, who is placed by Kalhaṇa under Tuñjina of Kashmir, and who rivalled the author of theMahābhāratain a drama, is wholly uncertain. The grammarian must have lived beforeA.D.650, as he is cited in theKāçikā Vṛttithough not by name; a more precise date it is impossible to give, for his reference to a victory of a Jarta over the Hūṇas cannot be made precise until we know what Jāṭ prince is referred to, though Yaçodharman has been suggested. The identification by Lévi of Candra with a person of that name mentioned by I-Tsing as living in his time is seemingly impossible, though I-Tsing ascribes to him the verse found in theÇiṣyalekhāmentioned above; the verse is lacking in the Tibetan version and I-Tsing may have made a slip. His contemporary seems to have been a Candradāsa, and to have dramatized the Viçvantara legend.To Candaka is ascribed in theSubhāṣitāvali2a fine verse of martial tone:eṣā hi raṇagatasya dṛḍhā pratijñā: drakṣyanti yan na ripavo jaghanaṁ hayānāmyuddheṣu bhāgyacapaleṣu na me pratijñā: daivaṁ yad icchati jayaṁ ca parājayaṁ ca.[169]‘I go to battle, and I swear that my foes shall never see the backs of my steeds; for the rest, fate directs the destiny of the wavering fight; I promise nothing, but shall take defeat or victory as it pleases destiny.’ A verse of love is:3prasāde vartasva prakaṭaya mudaṁ saṁtyaja ruṣampriye çuṣyanty an̄gāny amṛtam iva te siñcatu vacaḥnidhānaṁ saukhyānāṁ kṣaṇam abhimukhaṁ sthāpaya mukhamna mugdhe pratyetum bhavati gataḥ kālahariṇaḥ.‘Be gentle; show a little joy; lay aside thy anger; beloved, my limbs are dried up, let thy speech pour ambrosia upon them. Turn to me for a moment thy face, the abode of happiness; foolish one, time is an antelope which, gone, cannot be recalled.’ The other citations we have show skill both in tragic and erotic sentiment.Candraka was evidently admired by the authorities on poetics; we find in the commentary on theDaçarūpa4a verse, elsewhere ascribed to him, cited as an example where diverse sentiments blend but where one, that of coming parting of lovers, is predominant:ekenākṣṇā paritataruṣā vīkṣate vyomasaṁsthambhānor bimbaṁ sajalalulitenāpareṇātmakāntamahnaç chede dayitavirahāçan̄kinī cakravākīdvau saṁkīrṇau racayati rasau nartakīva pragalbhā.‘With one angry eye she gazes on the orb of the sun as it tarries on the horizon; with the other, dimmed by her tears, she looks on her soul’s beloved; thus the mate of the Cakravāka, feeling the approach at nightfall of separation from her dear one, expresses two emotions, even as a clever actress.’Curiously enough we have no less than four stanzas of benediction ascribed to him, which illustrate a formal feature of the Sanskrit drama, the introduction of each play with one or more stanzas involving divine favour. The verses are interesting, not so much for the intrinsic merits of their poetry, which frankly are not great, but because of the curious manner in which Indian poetry treats its deities; the greatest of gods nevertheless in his sportive moods is yet made the prototype of the human lover:5[170]cyutām indor lekhāṁ ratikalahabhagnaṁ ca valayamçanair ekīkṛtya hasitamukhī çailatanayāavocad yam paçyety avatu sa çivaḥ sā ca girijāsa ca krīḍācandro daçanakiraṇapūritatanuḥ.‘Smiling, the daughter of the mountain wrought into one a digit fallen from the moon and a bracelet broken in a love quarrel, and said to her lord, “Behold my work”. May he, Çiva, protect you, and the lady of the mountain, and that moon of dalliance all covered with bites and rays.’mātar jīva kim etad añjalipuṭe tātena gopāyyatevatsa svādu phalam prayacchati na me gatvā gṛhāṇa svayammātraivam prahite guhe vighaṭayaty ākṛṣya saṁdhyāñjalimçambhor bhinnasamādhir uddharabhaso hāsodgāmaḥ pātu vaḥ.‘O mother.—My life.—What is it that my father guards so carefully in the palm of his hand?—Dear one, it is a sweet fruit.—He will not give me it.—Go thyself and take it.—Thus urged by his mother, Guha seizes the closed hands of his sire as he adores the Twilight and drags them apart; Çiva, angry at the interruption of his devotion, stays his wrath at sight of his son and laughs: may that laughter protect you.’6[Contents]2.The Authorship of the Dramas ascribed to HarṣaThree dramas, as well as some minor poetry, have come down to us under the name of Harṣa, unquestionably the king of Sthāṇvīçvara and Kanyakubja, who reigned from aboutA.D.606 to 648,7the patron of Bāṇa who celebrates him in theHarṣacaritaand of the Chinese pilgrim Hiuan-Tsang who is our most valuable source of information on his reign. That the three plays are by one and the same hand is made certain in part by the common ascription in a verse in the prologue mentioning Harṣa as an accomplished poet, partly by the recurrence of two verses in thePriyadarçikāand theNāgānandaand of one in the former play and theRatnāvalī, and above all by the absolute similarity of style and tone in the three works, which renders any effort to[171]dissociate them wholly impossible. The question of their actual authorship was raised in antiquity; for, while Mammaṭa in hisKāvyaprakāça8merely refers to the gift of gold to Bāṇa—or Dhāvaka in some manuscripts—by Harṣa, the commentators explain this of theRatnāvalī, which was passed off in Harṣa’s name. This is, however, not in any way borne out by early tradition; I-Tsing9clearly refers to the dramatization of the subject of theNāgānandaby Harṣa and its performance, and in theKuṭṭanīmata10of Dāmodaragupta, who lived under Jayāpīḍa of Kashmir (A.D.779–813), a performance of theRatnāvalī, ascribed to a king, is mentioned. The ascription to Bāṇa has nothing even plausible in it, so disparate are the styles of the dramas and theHarṣacarita, and we have the option of believing that Harṣa wrote them himself with such aid as his Paṇḍits might give, or of accepting them as the work of some unknown dramatist, who allowed the king to claim the credit for them.[Contents]3.The Three DramasTheRatnāvalīand thePriyadarçikāare closely connected both in subject-matter and form; they are Nāṭikās, each in four Acts; their common hero is Udayana, whom Bhāsa already celebrated, and the common theme one of his numerous amourettes. TheRatnāvalī,11in special, has found favour in the text-books of the drama, and has served to illustrate the technical rules.The ubiquitous Yaugandharāyaṇa, insatiable in seeking his master’s welfare, has planned marriage for him with the daughter of the king of Ceylon, but to attain this end has been difficult; to avoid vexing the queen Vāsavadattā, he has kept her in the dark, and has spread a rumour which he has had conveyed by Bābhravya, the king’s chamberlain, of the death of Vāsavadattā in a fire at Lāvāṇaka. The king of Ceylon then yields the hand of his daughter, and dispatches her in the care of the chamberlain and his minister Vasubhūti to Vatsa, but, wrecked at sea, she is rescued by a merchant of Kauçāmbī, taken there, and handed[172]over to Vāsavadattā who, seeing her beauty, decides to keep her from contact with her inconstant spouse. But fate is adverse; at the spring festival which she celebrates with Vatsa, Sāgarikā, as the princess is called from her rescue from the sea, appears in the queen’s train; hastily sent away, she lingers concealed, watches the ceremony of the worship of the god Kāma, thinking Vatsa is the god in bodily presence, but is undeceived by the eulogy of the herald announcing the advent of evening. In Act II Sāgarikā is presented with her friend Susaṁgatā; she has depicted the prince on a canvas, and Susaṁgatā in raillery adds her beside him; she admits her love, but the confidence is broken by the alarm created by the escape of a monkey from the stables. In its mad rush it breaks the cage in Sāgarikā’s keeping, and the parrot escapes. The king and the Vidūṣaka enter the grove where the bird is, hear it repeat the maidens’ talk, and find the picture. The maidens returning for the picture overhear the confidences of the king and the Vidūṣaka, until Susaṁgatā sallies out and brings the lovers face to face. Their meeting is cut short by the advent of the queen, who sees the picture, realizes the position, and departs without manifesting the deep anger which she feels and which the king vainly seeks to assuage. In Act III the Vidūṣaka proves to have devised a scheme to secure a meeting of the lovers; Sāgarikā dressed as the queen and Susaṁgatā as her attendant are to meet Vatsa, but the plot is overheard, and it is Vāsavadattā herself who keeps the rendezvous; she listens to Vatsa’s declarations of love, and then bitterly reproaches him, rejecting his attempts to excuse himself. Sāgarikā, who had come on the scene too late, hears the king’s plight; weary, she ties a noose to her neck, when she is saved by the advent of the Vidūṣaka and the king, who naturally mistakes her for Vāsavadattā whom he fears his cruelty has driven to suicide. He joyously recognizes his error, but the queen, who, ashamed of her anger, has returned to make friends with her husband, finds the lovers united, and in violent anger carries off the maiden and the Vidūṣaka captive. But in Act IV we find the Vidūṣaka released and forgiven, but Sāgarikā in some prison, the king helpless to aid her. Good news, however, arrives; the general Rumaṇvant has won a victory over the Kosalas and slain the king. A magician enters and is allowed to display his art,[173]but the spectacle is interrupted by the advent of Vasubhūti and Bābhravya, who also have escaped the shipwreck. They tell their tale of disaster, when another interruption occurs; the harem is on fire; Vāsavadattā, shocked, reveals that Sāgarikā is there; Vatsa rushes to aid her, and emerges with her in chains, for the fire has been no more than a device of the magician. Bābhravya and Vasubhūti recognize in Sāgarikā the princess, and Yaugandharāyaṇa arrives to confess his management of the whole plot and the magician’s device. Vāsavadattā gladly gives the king to Ratnāvalī, since her husband will thus be lord of the earth, and Ratnāvalī is her full cousin.ThePriyadarçikā12introduces us in a speech by his chamberlain, Vinayavasu, to the king Dṛḍhavarman, whose daughter is destined for wedlock with Vatsa despite the demand for her hand made by the king of Kalin̄ga, who revenges himself during Vatsa’s imprisonment at the court of Pradyota by attacking and driving away Dṛḍhavarman. The maid is carried away by the chamberlain and is received and sheltered by Vindhyaketu, her father’s ally, but he offends Vatsa, is attacked and killed by his general Vijayasena, who brings back as part of the booty the unlucky Priyadarçikā; the king allots her to the harem as attendant on Vāsavadattā with the name Āraṇyikā (Āraṇyakā). In Act II we find the king, who has fallen in love with the maiden, seeking to distract himself with his Vidūṣaka. Āraṇyikā enters, to pluck lotuses, with her friend; she tells her love, which the king overhears; a bee attacks her when her friend leaves her, and in her confusion she runs into the arms of the king. Vatsa rescues her, but retires when her confidante returns. Act III tells that the aged confidante of the queen, Sāṁkṛtyāyanī, has composed a play on the marriage of Vatsa and Vāsavadattā which the queen is to see performed; the rôle of queen is to be played by Āraṇyikā, and Manoramā is to act the part of king, but she and the Vidūṣaka have arranged to let the king take the part. The performance causes anxiety to the queen, so ardent is the love-making, though Sāṁkṛtyāyanī reminds her it is but play-making; she leaves the hall, and finds the Vidūṣaka asleep; rudely wakened, he lets out the secret and the queen refuses to listen toVatsa’slame excuses. Act IV reveals Āraṇyikā in[174]prison, the king in despair, and the queen in sorrow, as she has learned from a letter from her mother that Dṛḍhavarman, her aunt’s husband, is in bondage, needing Vatsa’s aid. But Vijayasena brings news of the defeat of the Kalin̄ga king and the re-establishment of Dṛḍhavarman, and the chamberlain of the latter brings his thanks, his one sorrow being his daughter’s loss. Manoramā enters in terror; Āraṇyikā has poisoned herself, Vāsavadattā, filled with remorse, has her fetched, as Vatsa can cure her; the chamberlain recognizes his princess, Vatsa’s magic arts bring her back to consciousness, and Vāsavadattā recognizes in her her cousin, and grants her hand to the king.TheNāgānanda13performed at a festival of Indra, perhaps in the autumn, differs from these dramas in its form, for it is a Nāṭaka in five Acts, and in its inspiration; those are variants by Harṣa on the theme of Vatsa’s loves, this is the dramatization of a Buddhist legend, the self-sacrifice of Jīmūtavāhana, which was told in theBṛhatkathā, whence it appears in the later versions of that text14and in theVetālapañcaviṅçati.15Jīmūtavāhana is a prince of the Vidyādharas, whohas inducedhis father to resign his kingship, and give himself up to a life of calm; he has made the acquaintance of Mitrāvasu, the prince of the Siddhas, who has a sister. She has had a dream in which Gaurī has revealed to her her future husband, and Jīmūtavāhana hidden behind a thicket overhears her confiding this dream to her friend; the Vidūṣaka forces a meeting on the timid lovers, who shyly confess their affection, when an ascetic from the hermitage arrives to take the maiden away. In Act II Malayavatī is love-sick, resting on a stone seat in the garden; a sound makes her move away, when the king enters, equally oppressed, declares his love and paints his fancy. Mitrāvasu comes to offer him his sister’s hand; the king declines it, ignorant of whom he loves; she deems herself disdained and seeks to hang herself, but her friends rescue her and call for aid. Jīmūtavāhana appears, and proves that she is his love by showing the picture. The two exchange vows, and the marriage is concluded. In Act III, after a comic interlude, we find them walking in the park in happiness; Jīmūtavāhana is[175]apprised of the seizure of his kingdom, but accepts the news gladly. But the last two Acts change the topic. While strolling with Mitrāvasu one day, Jīmūtavāhana sees a heap of bones and learns that they are the bones of serpents daily offered to the divine bird Garuḍa; he resolves to save the lives of the serpents at the cost of his own, gets rid of Mitrāvasu, and goes to the place of offering. He hears the sobs of the mother of Çan̄khacūḍa, whose son is about to be offered, consoles her by offering himself in ransom, but is refused with admiration for his gallantry. But, when the two have entered the temple to pray before the offering, he gives himself to Garuḍa as substitute and is borne away. The last Act opens with the anxiety of the parents of Jīmūtavāhana, to whom and his wife is borne a jewel fallen from his crown; Çan̄khacūḍa, also, emerged from the temple, finds the sacrifice made and reveals to Garuḍa his crime. It is too late; the hero expires as his parents arrive. Garuḍa is ashamed, and Gaurī appears to cut the knot, revive the prince, and re-establish him in his realm, in order to keep faith with Malayavatī; by a shower of ambrosia the snakes slain by Garuḍa revive, and he promises to forego his cruel revenge.[Contents]4.Harṣa’s Art and StyleComparison with Kālidāsa is doubtless the cause why Harṣa has tended to receive less praise than is due to his dramas. The originality of his Nāṭikās is not perhaps great, but he has effectively devised the plot in both; the action moves smoothly and in either play there is ingenuity. The scene of the magician’s activity in theRatnāvalīis depicted with humour and vivacity; the parrot’s escape and its chatter are sketched with piquancy, and the exchange of costumes in theRatnāvalīis natural and effective. The double comedy in thePriyadarçikāis a happy thought, the intrigue in Act IV is neatly conducted, so as to show us Vāsavadattā in the light of an affectionate niece, and the scene with the bee is attractive. It is true that the plays are full of reminiscences of theMālavikāgnimitra, such as the escape in theRatnāvalīof the monkey, and the monkey that there frightens the little princess while Sāṁkṛtyāyanī is Kauçikī revived. But in this artificial comedy elegance is sought, not[176]originality,16and Harṣa is a clever borrower. The similarity of development of both plays is perhaps more to be condemned; they are too obviously variations of one theme.The dominant emotion in either is love of the type which appertains to a noble and gay (dhīralalita) hero, who is always courteous, whose loves, that is to say, mean very little to him, and who does not forget to assure the old love of his devotion while playing with the new. This is a different aspect of Vatsa’s character from that displayed by Bhāsa, and admittedly a much inferior one. Vāsavadattā suffers equal deterioration, for she is no longer the wife who sacrifices herself for her husband’s good; she is rather a jealous, though noble and kind-hearted woman, whose love for her husband makes her resent too deeply his inconstancy. The heroines areingénueswith nothing but good looks and willingness to be loved by the king, whom they know, though he does not, to be destined by their fathers as their husband. In neither case is any adequate reason17suggested for the failure to declare themselves in their true character, unless we are to assume that they would not, in the absence of sponsors, have been believed. Susaṁgatā, the friend of the heroine in theRatnāvalī, is a pleasant, merry girl who makes excellent fun of her mistress. The Vidūṣaka18in both plays is typical in his greediness, but his figure lacks comic force; he is, however, a pleasant enough character, for his love for his master is genuine; he is prepared to die with him in theRatnāvalī, though he thinks his action in rushing into the fire quixotic. The magician is an amusing and clever sketch of great pretensions allied to some juggling skill.TheNāgānandareveals Harṣa in a new light in the last two Acts. His liking for the marvellous is exhibited indeed in the last Acts of both the Nāṭikās in accord with the theory, but it has a far wider scope in theNāgānanda, where the supernatural freely appears, and, though the drama be Buddhist in inspiration, Gaurī is introduced to solve the difficulty of restoring[177]Jīmūtavāhana. Harṣa here rises to the task of depicting the emotions of self-sacrifice, charity, magnanimity, and resolution in the face of death; Jīmūtavāhana, however bizarre his setting, is one of the ideals of Buddhism, a man seized with the conviction that to sacrifice oneself for others is the highest duty. Çan̄khacūḍa and his mother too appear as noble in character, far superior to the savage Garuḍa. There is, it must be admitted, a decided lack of harmony between the two distinct parts of the drama, but the total effect is far from unsuccessful. Perhaps as a counterpoise to the seriousness of the last part, Harṣa has introduced effective comedy in Act III. The Vidūṣaka, Ātreya, is hideous and stupid; as he lies sleeping, covered by a mantle to protect him from the bees, the Viṭa, Çekharaka, sees him, mistakes him for his inamorata, embraces him and fondles him. Navamālikā enters, and, indignant, the Viṭa makes the Vidūṣaka, though a Brahmin, bow before her and drink alcohol. A little later Navamālikā makes fun of him before the newly married couple by painting his face with Tamūla juice.Harṣa is fond of descriptions in the approved manner; the evening, midday, the park, the hermitage, the gardens, the fountain, the marriage festival, the hour for the bath, the mountain Malaya, the forest, the palace, are among the ordinary themes beloved in the Kāvya. In imagination and grace he is certainly inferior to Kālidāsa, but he possesses the great merit of simplicity of expression and thought; his Sanskrit is classical, and precise; his use of figures of speech and thought restrained and in good taste. There is fire in his description of a battle:19astravyastaçirastraçastrakaṣaṇaiḥ kṛttottamān̄ge muhurvyūḍhāsṛksariti svanatpraharaṇair gharmodvamadvahniniāhūyājimukhe sa Kosalādhipatir bhagne pradhāne baleekenaiva Rumaṇvatā çaraçatair mattadvipastho hataḥ.‘Heads were cleft by the blows of swords on helmets sore smitten; blood flowed in torrents, fire flashed from the ringing strokes; when his main host had been broken, Rumaṇvant challenged in the forefront of the battle the lord of Kosala, who rode on a maddened elephant, and alone slew him with a hundred arrows.’ The matching of the sound to the sense[178]is admirable, while a delicate perception is evinced in the line describing the king’s success in soothing the wounded queen:20savyājaiḥ çapathaiḥ priyeṇa vacasā cittānuvṛttyādhikamvailakṣyeṇa pareṇa padapatanair vākyaiḥ sakhīnāṁ muhuḥpratyāsattim upāgatā na hi tathā devī rudatyā yathāprakṣālyeva tayaiva bāṣpasalilaiḥ kopo ’panītaḥ svayam.‘It was not so much by my false oaths of devotion, my loving words, my coaxing, my depths of dejection, and falling at her feet, or the advice of her friends, that the queen was appeased as that her anger was wiped away by the cleansing water of her own bitter tears.’ Pretty, if not appropriate, is the king’s address to the fire:21virama virama vahne muñca dhūmānubandham: prakaṭayasi kim uccair arciṣāṁ cakravālam?virahahutabhujāhaṁ yo na dagdhaḥ priyāyāḥ: pralayadahanabhāsā tasya kiṁ tvaṁ karoṣi?‘Stay, stay, fire; cease thy constant smoke; why dost thou raise aloft thy circle of flames? What canst thou avail against me, whom the fire of severance from my beloved, fierce as the flame that shall consume the universe, could not consume?’ There is excellent taste and propriety in Vatsa’s address to the dead Kosala king:22mṛtyur api te çlāghyo yasya çatravo ’py evaṁ puruṣakāraṁ varṇayanti.‘Even death for thee is glorious when even thy foes must thus depict thy manly prowess.’ Such a phrase may reveal to us the true Harṣa himself, the winner of many victories, and the hero of one great disaster.TheNāgānandastrikes varied notes; there is fire and enthusiasm in the assurances which Mitrāvasu gives the prince of the swift overthrow of his enemy, Matan̄ga, at the hands of his faithful Siddhas, will he but give the word:23saṁsarpadbhiḥ samantāt kṛtasakalaviyanmārgayānair vimānaiḥkurvāṇāḥ prāvṛṣīva sthagitaravirucaḥ çyāmatāṁ vāsarasyaete yātāç ca sadyas tava vacanam itaḥ prāpya yuddhāya siddhāḥsiddhaṁ codvṛttaçatrukṣayabhayavinamadrājakaṁ te svarājyam.‘With their chariots, meeting together and o’erspreading the whole surface of the sky as they speed along, darkening the day[179]as when the sun’s rays are hidden in the rain, my Siddhas await but the bidding to fare forthwith hence to the battle; but say the word and thy haughty foe shall fall, and thy kingdom be restored to thee, while the princes bow before thee in fear of his fate.’Jīmūtavāhana, however, has other views of his duty:24svaçarīram api parārthe yaḥ khalu dadyām ayācitaḥ kṛpayārājyasya kṛte sa katham prāṇivadhakrauryam anumanye?‘Gladly, unasked, would I give my own life for another in compassion; how then could I consent to the cruel slaughter of men merely to win a realm?’ The saying is essential to the drama, for it leads immediately to the determination of the prince to sacrifice himself for the Nāga.There is dignity and force in the admonition addressed by the dying hero to the repentant Garuḍa who begs him to command him:25nityam prāṇātipātāt prativirama kuru prākkṛte cānutāpamyatnāt puṇyapravāhaṁ samupacinu diçan sarvasattveṣv abhītimmagnaṁ yenātra nainaḥ phalati parimitaprāṇihiṅsāttam etaddurgāḍhāpāravārer lavaṇapalam iva kṣiptam antar hradasya.‘Cease for ever from taking life; repent of thy past misdeeds; eagerly accumulate a store of merit, freeing all creatures from fear of thee, so that, lost in the infinite stream of thy goodness, the sin of slaying creatures, in number limited, may cease to fructify, even as a morsel of salt cast in the unfathomable depths of a great lake.’Though Buddhist the drama, the benediction is enough to show how effectively the spirit of the Nāṭikā has been introduced into the legend:26dhyānavyājam upetya cintayasi kām unmīlya cakṣuḥ kṣaṇam?paçyānan̄gaçarāturaṁ janam imaṁ trātāpi no rakṣasimithyākāruṇiko ’si nirghṛṇataras tvattaḥ kuto ’nyaḥ pumān?serṣyam Māravadhūbhir ity abhihito Buddho27jinaḥ pātu vaḥ.‘ “Feigned is thy trance; of what fair one dost thou think? Open thine eyes for a moment and gaze on us whom love doth[180]drive mad. Protector art thou; save thou us. False is thy compassion; could there be any man more pitiless than thou?” May he, whom Māra’s beauties thus addressed, the Buddha, the conqueror, protect you.’But Harṣa’s chief merit is undoubtedly shown in erotic verses as in the description of the shyness of the new-made bride in theNāgānanda:28dṛṣṭā dṛṣṭim adho dadhāti kurute nālāpam ābhāṣitāçayyāyām parivṛtya tiṣṭhati balād ālin̄gitā vepateniryāntīṣu sakhīṣu vāsabhavanān nirgantum evehatejātā vāmatayaiva me ’dya sutarām prītyai navoḍhā priyā.‘Looked at, she casts down her face; addressed, she gives no reply; with head averted she lies on the couch; forcibly embraced, she trembles; when her maidens leave her chamber, she seeks also to depart; perverse though she be, my new-wed love delights me more and more.’ The accuracy of the aim of love as an archer is described in theRatnāvalī:29manaḥ prakṛtyaiva calaṁ durlakṣyaṁ ca tathāpi meanan̄gena kathaṁ viddhaṁ samaṁ sarvaçilīmukhāiḥ.‘Mind is naturally mobile and hard to find; nevertheless mine has been pierced by love at once with all his darts.’ In entire harmony with Indian taste Harṣa dwells on the points of physical perfection in the adored one in theNāgānanda:30khedāya stanabhāra eṣa kim u te madhyasya hāro ’parastāmyaty ūruyugaṁ nitambabharataḥ kāñcyānayā kim punaḥçaktiḥ padayugasya noruyugalaṁ voḍhuṁ kuto nūpurausvān̄gair eva vibhūṣitāsi vahasi kleçāya kiṁ maṇḍanam?‘The burden of thy bosom serves to weary thy waist; why then add the weight of thy necklace? Thy thighs are wearied by the bearing of thy hips; why then thy girdle of bells? Thy feet can barely carry the load of thy thighs; why add thine anklets? When in every limb thou dost possess such grace, why dost thou wear ornaments to thy weariness?’ Harṣa is also capable of expressing a deeper side of love, as when the king in theRatnāvalī31fancies that Vāsavadattā has been driven to suicide by his faithlessness:[181]samārūḍhaprītiḥ praṇayabahumānād anudinamvyalīkaṁ vīkṣyedaṁ kṛtam akṛtapūrvaṁ khalu mayāpriyā muñcaty adya sphuṭam asahanā jīvitam asauprakṛṣṭasya premṇaḥ skhalitam aviṣahyaṁ hi bhavati.‘My beloved, whose love for me waxed daily because of my affection and respect, has seen my falsity which she has never known before, and now assuredly she seeks to lay life aside in despair; for unendurable is a wrong against a noble love.’[Contents]5.The Language and the Metres of Harṣa’s DramasHarṣa’s Sanskrit is of the usual classical type, eschewing any deviation from the beaten paths, and his Prākrits, mainly Çaurasenī with Māhārāṣṭrī in the verses, offer nothing of special interest, beyond evidence of his careful study of Prākrit grammar.32His use of metrical forms, on the other hand, marks the tendency to reject the simplicity of the earlier dramatists, and to insist on the use of the more elaborate metres, which in themselves are wholly undramatic, but give a much wider range of opportunity for the exhibition of merits of description. Harṣa’s favourite is the Çārdūlavikrīḍita, which occurs 23 times in theRatnāvalī, 20 times in thePriyadarçikā, and 30 times in theNāgānanda; the Sragdharā takes second place with 11, 8, and 17 occurrences. The Çloka occurs in theRatnāvalī(9)and the Nāgānanda (24), the frequency in the latter being due to the more epic character of the piece; its absence from thePriyadarçikāis marked. The Āryā occurs 9 times each in the Nāṭikās, and 16 times in theNāgānanda. ThePriyadarçikāsuggests by its content immaturity, and its poverty in metres supports this view; it has but seven in all, including Indravajrā, Vasantatilaka (6), Mālinī, and Çikhariṇī. TheNāgānandahas also Çālinī and Hariṇī, in common with theRatnāvalī, and Drutavilambita, while theRatnāvalīadds Puṣpitāgrā, Pṛthvī, and Praharṣiṇī. That play has 5 Prākrit Āryās and 1 Gīti, the other two 3 Āryās apiece, while theRatnāvalīcontains a pretty pair of rhymed verses, each with Pādas of 12 morae.[182][Contents]6.MahendravikramavarmanAlmost a contemporary to a day of Harṣa was Mahendravikramavarman, son of the Pallava king Siṅhaviṣṇuvarman, and himself a king with the styles of Avanibhājana, Guṇabhara, and Mattavilāsa, all alluded to in his play,33who ruled in Kāñcī, the scene of his drama, in the first quarter of the seventh centuryA.D.34Chance rather than any special merit has preserved for us his Prahasana,35which is so far the only early farce published, and which has special interest as it comes from the south, and, as we have seen, shows signs of the same technique as that of Bhāsa. Thus the play is opened by the director at the close of the Nāndī, which is not preserved, and the prologue is styled Sthāpanā, and not, as usual, Prastāvanā. We have also a reference to Karpaṭa as the writer of a text-book for thieves, as in theCārudattaof Bhāsa, but there is an essential difference in the fact that great care is taken in the prologue to set out at length the merits of the author as well as the name of the drama.The director introduces the play by a dialogue in which he by skilled flattery induces his first wife to aid him in the work, despite her annoyance at his taking to himself of a younger bride, and the transition to the actual drama is accomplished as in Bhāsa by his being interrupted in the midst of a verse by a cry from behind the scene, which leads him to complete his stanza by mentioning the appearance of the chief actor and his companion. They are a Çaiva mendicant of the skull-bearing order, a Kapālin, and his damsel, Devasomā by name. Both are intoxicated, and the maiden asks for her companion’s aid to prevent her from falling; he would hold her if he could, but his own condition hinders aid; in remorse he proposes to forswear strong drink, but the lady entreats him not for her sake thus to break[183]his penance, and he joyfully abandons the rash project, praising instead his rule of life:36peyā surā priyatamāmukham īkṣitavyam: grāhyaḥ svabhāvalalito ’vikṛtaç ca veṣaḥyenedam īdṛçam adṛçyata mokṣavartma: dīrghayur astu bhagavān sa pinākapaṇiḥ.‘Long live the god who bears the trident and who has revealed to men this as the way of salvation, to drink brandy, to gaze on the face of one’s beloved, to wear beautiful and becoming raiment.’ He is reminded by his companions that the Arhants have a very different definition of the path of salvation, but he has little trouble in disposing of them:kāryasya niḥsaṁçayam ātmahetoḥ: sarūpatāṁ hetubhir abhyupetyaduḥkhasya kāryaṁ sukham āmanantaḥ: svenaiva vākyena hatā varākāḥ.‘They establish that an effect, as self-caused, is of the same nature as its causes; when, therefore, they declare that pleasure is the effect of pain, the poor fools contradict their own dogmas.’ There follows a complimentary description of Kāñcī, and a careful parallel between the tavern where the pair are seeking more charity and a scene of sacrifice; the Kapālin also discovers that Surā has a celestial origin; it is none other than the form taken by the god of love when burnt by the flame from Çiva’s eye, a conclusion heartily accepted by his friend. The two are successful in attaining alms, but the tragic discovery is made that the skull, which serves as begging bowl, and which seems indeed at first to be theraison d’êtreof the Kapālin, is lost, though he consoles himself by reflecting that it was only a sign and that his occupation is still intact. A search through Kāñcī follows, and suspicion falls on a Buddhist monk, Çākyabhikṣu, who is lamenting the fact that despite the excellent fare he has received the law forbids the enjoyment of strong drink and women; he concludes that the true gospel of the Buddha contained no such ridiculous restrictions, and expresses his desire to benefit the whole community by discovering the authentic text.[184]Naturally, when challenged, he denies that his begging bowl is that of the Kapālin, and blesses the master for his good sense in insisting on shaving the head, since it prevents the damsel from succeeding in her well-meant effort to aid her companion by pulling his hair. His arguments as to the identity of his bowl are unconvincing to the Kapālin:dṛṣṭāni vastūni mahīsamudra—: mahīdharādīni mahānti mohātapahnuvānasya sutaḥ kathaṁ tvam: alpaṁ na nihnotum alaṁ kapālam?‘Thou art the son of one who denies in his folly things that we see, the earth, the ocean, mountains and so forth; how then art thou not ready to deny so small a thing as a bowl?’ Moreover, when the Buddhist, politely and with commendable charity, picks up Devasomā when her fruitless assault on his locks lands her on the ground, he accuses him of taking her in marriage and invokes punishment on this violator of the rights of Brahmins. A Pāçupata, a more respectable type of Çaiva sectarian, comes on the scene and is appealed to as an arbitrator, but finds the task too difficult; both claimants proudly assert their adherence to a creed which forbids lying, and the Buddhist recites in addition the whole list of moral rules which makes up the Çikṣāpada. The obvious arguments from colour and shape in favour of the Buddhist are made out by his rival to be no more than signs of his skill in changing objects at pleasure. Finally the Pāçupata suggests that they must take the matter before a court.En route, however, a diversion is made by an Unmattaka, or madman, who has rescued the skull from a dog, the real thief; he first appears willing to give it as a present to the Pāçupata, who haughtily rejects the horrible object, but suggests the Kapālin as the recipient; then he changes his mind, but, annoyed by the cry of ‘mad’, asks the Kapālin to hold the skull and to show him the madman; the Kapālin, nothing loth, accepts the skull, and misdirects the madman. All are now happy; the Kapālin makes a handsome apology to the Buddhist monk, and the usual Bharatavākya with a reference to the ruling king, the author, concludes the work.The author undoubtedly shows a considerable knowledge of the tenets of the Buddhists, and the play is not unamusing,[185]though the subject is much too trivial for the pains taken to deal with it. The style is certainly appropriate to the subject-matter; it is like that of Harṣa, simple and elegant, while many of the verses are not without force and beauty. In the prose speeches of the Kapālin, however, we have occasional premonitions37of the unwieldy compounds of Bhavabhūti. There is, as in all the later Prahasanas, a certain incongruity between the triviality of the subject-matter and the elaboration of the form but the king has the merit of avoiding the gross vulgarity which marks normally the later works of this type.Short as is the play, it shows a variety of Prākrits, for of thedramatis personaeonly the Kapālin and the Pāçupata speak Sanskrit, while the madman, the Buddhist, and Devasomā talk in Prākrit. That of the Buddhist and of Devasomā is practically Çaurasenī, but the madman uses Māgadhī.38The Prākrits show some of the signs of antiquity which have been seen in Bhāsa’s dramas; thus forms of the plural ināṇiandññin lieu ofṇṇare found, doubtless as a result of the influence of Bhāsa. The frequency of such forms asaho nu khaluandkiṁ nu khaluis precisely in the manner of Bhāsa, and mention may be made of the employment ofmāwith the infinitive in Prākrit in a prohibition.The variety of metres is large in view of the brief extent of the play. There are nine different stanzas employed; five each of the Çloka and Çārdūlavikrīḍita, three each of Indravajrā type and Āryā, two each of Vaṅçasthā type and Vasantatilaka, the solitary Prākrit verse being of the former kind, and one each of Rucirā, Mālinī, and Sragdharā.39[186]1Lévi, BEFEO. iii. 38 f.; Liebich,Das Datum des Candragomin und Kalidasas; Konow, ID. pp. 72 f.; GIL. iii. 185, 399 f.↑2v. 2275.↑3v. 1629.↑4p. 163;Subhāṣitāvali, 1916;Çārn̄gadhara, cxvii. 14; text uncertain.↑5Subhāṣitāvali, 66.↑6Subhāṣitāvali, 69.↑7M. Ettinghausen,Harṣa Vardhana, Louvain, 1905; S. P. Paṇḍit,Gaüdavaho, pp. cvii ff.; K. M. Panikkar,Sri Harsha of Kanauj, Bombay, 1922. It is impossible to connect the dramas with any definite incident of his reign such as the Prayāga festival celebrated by Hiuan-Tsang.↑8i. 2. Cf. Soḍhala (A.D.993) inKāvyamīmāṅsā(GOS. i), p. xii.↑9Trs. Takakusu, pp. 163 f.↑10vv. 856 ff.↑11Ed. C. Cappeller, Böhtlingk,Sanskrit-Chrestomathie, 3rd ed., pp. 326 ff.; trs. Wilson, ii. 255 ff.; L. Fritze, Schloss Chemnitz, 1878. It was performed at a spring festival of Kāma.↑12Ed. R. V. Krishnamachariar, Srirangam, 1906; trs. G. Strehly, Paris, 1888.↑13Ed. Calcutta, 1886; TSS. 1917; trs. P. Boyd, London, 1872; A. Bergaigne, Paris, 1879; E. Teza, Milan, 1904.↑14KSS. xxii. 16–257; xc. 3–201; BKM. iv. 50–108; ix. 2. 776–930.↑15xv.↑16Many traces of theSvapnavāsavadattācan be seen in theRatnāvalī, especially in the characterization of the Vidūṣaka.↑17Āraṇyikā suggests that assertion would be undignified, seeing her actual condition. In theMālavikāgnimitraa prophecy is made to do service as a motif.↑18Cf. Schuyler, JAOS. xx. 338 ff.↑19Ratnāvalī, iv. 6.↑20Ratnāvalī, iv. 1.↑21Ibid., iv. 16.↑22Ibid., iv. 6/7. Cf.Priyadarçikā, i. on Vindhyaketu’s death.↑23iii. 15.↑24iii. 17.↑25v. 25.↑26i. 1.↑27Orbodhau, ‘on his enlightenment.’↑28iii. 4.↑29iii. 2.↑30iv. 7.↑31iii. 15.↑32Māgadhī is found in theNāgānandaspoken by the servant. On the variation of forms in the northern and southern editions see Barnett, JRAS. 1921, p. 589.↑33TheMattavilāsa, ed. TSS. lv. 1917.↑34EI. iv. 152;South Ind. Inscr.i. 29 f.; G. Jouveau-Dubreuil,The Pallavas, pp. 37 ff.↑35ASarvacaritais attributed to a Bāṇa in Rājarāma Çastrin’sSūcīpatra, but it may really be Vāmana Bhaṭṭa Bāṇa’s as is thePārvatīpariṇaya(against Ettinghausen,Harṣa Vardhana, pp. 122 f.). TheMukuṭatāḍitakaof Bāṇa is cited in Caṇḍapāla’s comm. on theNalacampū, p. 227.↑36This verse is attributed to Bhāsa by Somadeva in hisYaçastilaka; Peterson,Reports, ii. 46.↑37pp. 7, 8, 9.↑38So the Unmattaka in thePratijñāyaugandharāyaṇaof Bhāsa.↑39Antiquity is claimed by the editors ofCaturbhāṇī(1922) for the Bhāṇas,Ubhayābhisārikāof Vararuci,Padmaprābhṛtakaof Çūdraka,Dhūrtaviṭasaṁvādaof Īçvaradatta,Pādatāḍitakaof Ārya Çyāmilaka, but no reliance can be placed on the first two ascriptions, and none of the plays need be older than 1000A.D.Their technique is similar to that of theMattavilāsa.↑

[Contents]VIICANDRA, HARṢA, AND MAHENDRAVIKRAMAVARMAN[Contents]1.Candra or CandrakaSome mystery exists as to the identity and character of Candra as a dramatist.1We have in a Tibetan version aLokānanda, a Buddhist drama telling of a certain Maṇicūḍa, who handed over his wife and children to a Brahmin as a sign of supreme generosity, which is ascribed to Candragomin, the grammarian, in whoseÇiṣyalekhāis found a verse ascribed to Candragopin in theSubhāṣitāvali. If this is the dramatist Candaka or Candraka, who is placed by Kalhaṇa under Tuñjina of Kashmir, and who rivalled the author of theMahābhāratain a drama, is wholly uncertain. The grammarian must have lived beforeA.D.650, as he is cited in theKāçikā Vṛttithough not by name; a more precise date it is impossible to give, for his reference to a victory of a Jarta over the Hūṇas cannot be made precise until we know what Jāṭ prince is referred to, though Yaçodharman has been suggested. The identification by Lévi of Candra with a person of that name mentioned by I-Tsing as living in his time is seemingly impossible, though I-Tsing ascribes to him the verse found in theÇiṣyalekhāmentioned above; the verse is lacking in the Tibetan version and I-Tsing may have made a slip. His contemporary seems to have been a Candradāsa, and to have dramatized the Viçvantara legend.To Candaka is ascribed in theSubhāṣitāvali2a fine verse of martial tone:eṣā hi raṇagatasya dṛḍhā pratijñā: drakṣyanti yan na ripavo jaghanaṁ hayānāmyuddheṣu bhāgyacapaleṣu na me pratijñā: daivaṁ yad icchati jayaṁ ca parājayaṁ ca.[169]‘I go to battle, and I swear that my foes shall never see the backs of my steeds; for the rest, fate directs the destiny of the wavering fight; I promise nothing, but shall take defeat or victory as it pleases destiny.’ A verse of love is:3prasāde vartasva prakaṭaya mudaṁ saṁtyaja ruṣampriye çuṣyanty an̄gāny amṛtam iva te siñcatu vacaḥnidhānaṁ saukhyānāṁ kṣaṇam abhimukhaṁ sthāpaya mukhamna mugdhe pratyetum bhavati gataḥ kālahariṇaḥ.‘Be gentle; show a little joy; lay aside thy anger; beloved, my limbs are dried up, let thy speech pour ambrosia upon them. Turn to me for a moment thy face, the abode of happiness; foolish one, time is an antelope which, gone, cannot be recalled.’ The other citations we have show skill both in tragic and erotic sentiment.Candraka was evidently admired by the authorities on poetics; we find in the commentary on theDaçarūpa4a verse, elsewhere ascribed to him, cited as an example where diverse sentiments blend but where one, that of coming parting of lovers, is predominant:ekenākṣṇā paritataruṣā vīkṣate vyomasaṁsthambhānor bimbaṁ sajalalulitenāpareṇātmakāntamahnaç chede dayitavirahāçan̄kinī cakravākīdvau saṁkīrṇau racayati rasau nartakīva pragalbhā.‘With one angry eye she gazes on the orb of the sun as it tarries on the horizon; with the other, dimmed by her tears, she looks on her soul’s beloved; thus the mate of the Cakravāka, feeling the approach at nightfall of separation from her dear one, expresses two emotions, even as a clever actress.’Curiously enough we have no less than four stanzas of benediction ascribed to him, which illustrate a formal feature of the Sanskrit drama, the introduction of each play with one or more stanzas involving divine favour. The verses are interesting, not so much for the intrinsic merits of their poetry, which frankly are not great, but because of the curious manner in which Indian poetry treats its deities; the greatest of gods nevertheless in his sportive moods is yet made the prototype of the human lover:5[170]cyutām indor lekhāṁ ratikalahabhagnaṁ ca valayamçanair ekīkṛtya hasitamukhī çailatanayāavocad yam paçyety avatu sa çivaḥ sā ca girijāsa ca krīḍācandro daçanakiraṇapūritatanuḥ.‘Smiling, the daughter of the mountain wrought into one a digit fallen from the moon and a bracelet broken in a love quarrel, and said to her lord, “Behold my work”. May he, Çiva, protect you, and the lady of the mountain, and that moon of dalliance all covered with bites and rays.’mātar jīva kim etad añjalipuṭe tātena gopāyyatevatsa svādu phalam prayacchati na me gatvā gṛhāṇa svayammātraivam prahite guhe vighaṭayaty ākṛṣya saṁdhyāñjalimçambhor bhinnasamādhir uddharabhaso hāsodgāmaḥ pātu vaḥ.‘O mother.—My life.—What is it that my father guards so carefully in the palm of his hand?—Dear one, it is a sweet fruit.—He will not give me it.—Go thyself and take it.—Thus urged by his mother, Guha seizes the closed hands of his sire as he adores the Twilight and drags them apart; Çiva, angry at the interruption of his devotion, stays his wrath at sight of his son and laughs: may that laughter protect you.’6[Contents]2.The Authorship of the Dramas ascribed to HarṣaThree dramas, as well as some minor poetry, have come down to us under the name of Harṣa, unquestionably the king of Sthāṇvīçvara and Kanyakubja, who reigned from aboutA.D.606 to 648,7the patron of Bāṇa who celebrates him in theHarṣacaritaand of the Chinese pilgrim Hiuan-Tsang who is our most valuable source of information on his reign. That the three plays are by one and the same hand is made certain in part by the common ascription in a verse in the prologue mentioning Harṣa as an accomplished poet, partly by the recurrence of two verses in thePriyadarçikāand theNāgānandaand of one in the former play and theRatnāvalī, and above all by the absolute similarity of style and tone in the three works, which renders any effort to[171]dissociate them wholly impossible. The question of their actual authorship was raised in antiquity; for, while Mammaṭa in hisKāvyaprakāça8merely refers to the gift of gold to Bāṇa—or Dhāvaka in some manuscripts—by Harṣa, the commentators explain this of theRatnāvalī, which was passed off in Harṣa’s name. This is, however, not in any way borne out by early tradition; I-Tsing9clearly refers to the dramatization of the subject of theNāgānandaby Harṣa and its performance, and in theKuṭṭanīmata10of Dāmodaragupta, who lived under Jayāpīḍa of Kashmir (A.D.779–813), a performance of theRatnāvalī, ascribed to a king, is mentioned. The ascription to Bāṇa has nothing even plausible in it, so disparate are the styles of the dramas and theHarṣacarita, and we have the option of believing that Harṣa wrote them himself with such aid as his Paṇḍits might give, or of accepting them as the work of some unknown dramatist, who allowed the king to claim the credit for them.[Contents]3.The Three DramasTheRatnāvalīand thePriyadarçikāare closely connected both in subject-matter and form; they are Nāṭikās, each in four Acts; their common hero is Udayana, whom Bhāsa already celebrated, and the common theme one of his numerous amourettes. TheRatnāvalī,11in special, has found favour in the text-books of the drama, and has served to illustrate the technical rules.The ubiquitous Yaugandharāyaṇa, insatiable in seeking his master’s welfare, has planned marriage for him with the daughter of the king of Ceylon, but to attain this end has been difficult; to avoid vexing the queen Vāsavadattā, he has kept her in the dark, and has spread a rumour which he has had conveyed by Bābhravya, the king’s chamberlain, of the death of Vāsavadattā in a fire at Lāvāṇaka. The king of Ceylon then yields the hand of his daughter, and dispatches her in the care of the chamberlain and his minister Vasubhūti to Vatsa, but, wrecked at sea, she is rescued by a merchant of Kauçāmbī, taken there, and handed[172]over to Vāsavadattā who, seeing her beauty, decides to keep her from contact with her inconstant spouse. But fate is adverse; at the spring festival which she celebrates with Vatsa, Sāgarikā, as the princess is called from her rescue from the sea, appears in the queen’s train; hastily sent away, she lingers concealed, watches the ceremony of the worship of the god Kāma, thinking Vatsa is the god in bodily presence, but is undeceived by the eulogy of the herald announcing the advent of evening. In Act II Sāgarikā is presented with her friend Susaṁgatā; she has depicted the prince on a canvas, and Susaṁgatā in raillery adds her beside him; she admits her love, but the confidence is broken by the alarm created by the escape of a monkey from the stables. In its mad rush it breaks the cage in Sāgarikā’s keeping, and the parrot escapes. The king and the Vidūṣaka enter the grove where the bird is, hear it repeat the maidens’ talk, and find the picture. The maidens returning for the picture overhear the confidences of the king and the Vidūṣaka, until Susaṁgatā sallies out and brings the lovers face to face. Their meeting is cut short by the advent of the queen, who sees the picture, realizes the position, and departs without manifesting the deep anger which she feels and which the king vainly seeks to assuage. In Act III the Vidūṣaka proves to have devised a scheme to secure a meeting of the lovers; Sāgarikā dressed as the queen and Susaṁgatā as her attendant are to meet Vatsa, but the plot is overheard, and it is Vāsavadattā herself who keeps the rendezvous; she listens to Vatsa’s declarations of love, and then bitterly reproaches him, rejecting his attempts to excuse himself. Sāgarikā, who had come on the scene too late, hears the king’s plight; weary, she ties a noose to her neck, when she is saved by the advent of the Vidūṣaka and the king, who naturally mistakes her for Vāsavadattā whom he fears his cruelty has driven to suicide. He joyously recognizes his error, but the queen, who, ashamed of her anger, has returned to make friends with her husband, finds the lovers united, and in violent anger carries off the maiden and the Vidūṣaka captive. But in Act IV we find the Vidūṣaka released and forgiven, but Sāgarikā in some prison, the king helpless to aid her. Good news, however, arrives; the general Rumaṇvant has won a victory over the Kosalas and slain the king. A magician enters and is allowed to display his art,[173]but the spectacle is interrupted by the advent of Vasubhūti and Bābhravya, who also have escaped the shipwreck. They tell their tale of disaster, when another interruption occurs; the harem is on fire; Vāsavadattā, shocked, reveals that Sāgarikā is there; Vatsa rushes to aid her, and emerges with her in chains, for the fire has been no more than a device of the magician. Bābhravya and Vasubhūti recognize in Sāgarikā the princess, and Yaugandharāyaṇa arrives to confess his management of the whole plot and the magician’s device. Vāsavadattā gladly gives the king to Ratnāvalī, since her husband will thus be lord of the earth, and Ratnāvalī is her full cousin.ThePriyadarçikā12introduces us in a speech by his chamberlain, Vinayavasu, to the king Dṛḍhavarman, whose daughter is destined for wedlock with Vatsa despite the demand for her hand made by the king of Kalin̄ga, who revenges himself during Vatsa’s imprisonment at the court of Pradyota by attacking and driving away Dṛḍhavarman. The maid is carried away by the chamberlain and is received and sheltered by Vindhyaketu, her father’s ally, but he offends Vatsa, is attacked and killed by his general Vijayasena, who brings back as part of the booty the unlucky Priyadarçikā; the king allots her to the harem as attendant on Vāsavadattā with the name Āraṇyikā (Āraṇyakā). In Act II we find the king, who has fallen in love with the maiden, seeking to distract himself with his Vidūṣaka. Āraṇyikā enters, to pluck lotuses, with her friend; she tells her love, which the king overhears; a bee attacks her when her friend leaves her, and in her confusion she runs into the arms of the king. Vatsa rescues her, but retires when her confidante returns. Act III tells that the aged confidante of the queen, Sāṁkṛtyāyanī, has composed a play on the marriage of Vatsa and Vāsavadattā which the queen is to see performed; the rôle of queen is to be played by Āraṇyikā, and Manoramā is to act the part of king, but she and the Vidūṣaka have arranged to let the king take the part. The performance causes anxiety to the queen, so ardent is the love-making, though Sāṁkṛtyāyanī reminds her it is but play-making; she leaves the hall, and finds the Vidūṣaka asleep; rudely wakened, he lets out the secret and the queen refuses to listen toVatsa’slame excuses. Act IV reveals Āraṇyikā in[174]prison, the king in despair, and the queen in sorrow, as she has learned from a letter from her mother that Dṛḍhavarman, her aunt’s husband, is in bondage, needing Vatsa’s aid. But Vijayasena brings news of the defeat of the Kalin̄ga king and the re-establishment of Dṛḍhavarman, and the chamberlain of the latter brings his thanks, his one sorrow being his daughter’s loss. Manoramā enters in terror; Āraṇyikā has poisoned herself, Vāsavadattā, filled with remorse, has her fetched, as Vatsa can cure her; the chamberlain recognizes his princess, Vatsa’s magic arts bring her back to consciousness, and Vāsavadattā recognizes in her her cousin, and grants her hand to the king.TheNāgānanda13performed at a festival of Indra, perhaps in the autumn, differs from these dramas in its form, for it is a Nāṭaka in five Acts, and in its inspiration; those are variants by Harṣa on the theme of Vatsa’s loves, this is the dramatization of a Buddhist legend, the self-sacrifice of Jīmūtavāhana, which was told in theBṛhatkathā, whence it appears in the later versions of that text14and in theVetālapañcaviṅçati.15Jīmūtavāhana is a prince of the Vidyādharas, whohas inducedhis father to resign his kingship, and give himself up to a life of calm; he has made the acquaintance of Mitrāvasu, the prince of the Siddhas, who has a sister. She has had a dream in which Gaurī has revealed to her her future husband, and Jīmūtavāhana hidden behind a thicket overhears her confiding this dream to her friend; the Vidūṣaka forces a meeting on the timid lovers, who shyly confess their affection, when an ascetic from the hermitage arrives to take the maiden away. In Act II Malayavatī is love-sick, resting on a stone seat in the garden; a sound makes her move away, when the king enters, equally oppressed, declares his love and paints his fancy. Mitrāvasu comes to offer him his sister’s hand; the king declines it, ignorant of whom he loves; she deems herself disdained and seeks to hang herself, but her friends rescue her and call for aid. Jīmūtavāhana appears, and proves that she is his love by showing the picture. The two exchange vows, and the marriage is concluded. In Act III, after a comic interlude, we find them walking in the park in happiness; Jīmūtavāhana is[175]apprised of the seizure of his kingdom, but accepts the news gladly. But the last two Acts change the topic. While strolling with Mitrāvasu one day, Jīmūtavāhana sees a heap of bones and learns that they are the bones of serpents daily offered to the divine bird Garuḍa; he resolves to save the lives of the serpents at the cost of his own, gets rid of Mitrāvasu, and goes to the place of offering. He hears the sobs of the mother of Çan̄khacūḍa, whose son is about to be offered, consoles her by offering himself in ransom, but is refused with admiration for his gallantry. But, when the two have entered the temple to pray before the offering, he gives himself to Garuḍa as substitute and is borne away. The last Act opens with the anxiety of the parents of Jīmūtavāhana, to whom and his wife is borne a jewel fallen from his crown; Çan̄khacūḍa, also, emerged from the temple, finds the sacrifice made and reveals to Garuḍa his crime. It is too late; the hero expires as his parents arrive. Garuḍa is ashamed, and Gaurī appears to cut the knot, revive the prince, and re-establish him in his realm, in order to keep faith with Malayavatī; by a shower of ambrosia the snakes slain by Garuḍa revive, and he promises to forego his cruel revenge.[Contents]4.Harṣa’s Art and StyleComparison with Kālidāsa is doubtless the cause why Harṣa has tended to receive less praise than is due to his dramas. The originality of his Nāṭikās is not perhaps great, but he has effectively devised the plot in both; the action moves smoothly and in either play there is ingenuity. The scene of the magician’s activity in theRatnāvalīis depicted with humour and vivacity; the parrot’s escape and its chatter are sketched with piquancy, and the exchange of costumes in theRatnāvalīis natural and effective. The double comedy in thePriyadarçikāis a happy thought, the intrigue in Act IV is neatly conducted, so as to show us Vāsavadattā in the light of an affectionate niece, and the scene with the bee is attractive. It is true that the plays are full of reminiscences of theMālavikāgnimitra, such as the escape in theRatnāvalīof the monkey, and the monkey that there frightens the little princess while Sāṁkṛtyāyanī is Kauçikī revived. But in this artificial comedy elegance is sought, not[176]originality,16and Harṣa is a clever borrower. The similarity of development of both plays is perhaps more to be condemned; they are too obviously variations of one theme.The dominant emotion in either is love of the type which appertains to a noble and gay (dhīralalita) hero, who is always courteous, whose loves, that is to say, mean very little to him, and who does not forget to assure the old love of his devotion while playing with the new. This is a different aspect of Vatsa’s character from that displayed by Bhāsa, and admittedly a much inferior one. Vāsavadattā suffers equal deterioration, for she is no longer the wife who sacrifices herself for her husband’s good; she is rather a jealous, though noble and kind-hearted woman, whose love for her husband makes her resent too deeply his inconstancy. The heroines areingénueswith nothing but good looks and willingness to be loved by the king, whom they know, though he does not, to be destined by their fathers as their husband. In neither case is any adequate reason17suggested for the failure to declare themselves in their true character, unless we are to assume that they would not, in the absence of sponsors, have been believed. Susaṁgatā, the friend of the heroine in theRatnāvalī, is a pleasant, merry girl who makes excellent fun of her mistress. The Vidūṣaka18in both plays is typical in his greediness, but his figure lacks comic force; he is, however, a pleasant enough character, for his love for his master is genuine; he is prepared to die with him in theRatnāvalī, though he thinks his action in rushing into the fire quixotic. The magician is an amusing and clever sketch of great pretensions allied to some juggling skill.TheNāgānandareveals Harṣa in a new light in the last two Acts. His liking for the marvellous is exhibited indeed in the last Acts of both the Nāṭikās in accord with the theory, but it has a far wider scope in theNāgānanda, where the supernatural freely appears, and, though the drama be Buddhist in inspiration, Gaurī is introduced to solve the difficulty of restoring[177]Jīmūtavāhana. Harṣa here rises to the task of depicting the emotions of self-sacrifice, charity, magnanimity, and resolution in the face of death; Jīmūtavāhana, however bizarre his setting, is one of the ideals of Buddhism, a man seized with the conviction that to sacrifice oneself for others is the highest duty. Çan̄khacūḍa and his mother too appear as noble in character, far superior to the savage Garuḍa. There is, it must be admitted, a decided lack of harmony between the two distinct parts of the drama, but the total effect is far from unsuccessful. Perhaps as a counterpoise to the seriousness of the last part, Harṣa has introduced effective comedy in Act III. The Vidūṣaka, Ātreya, is hideous and stupid; as he lies sleeping, covered by a mantle to protect him from the bees, the Viṭa, Çekharaka, sees him, mistakes him for his inamorata, embraces him and fondles him. Navamālikā enters, and, indignant, the Viṭa makes the Vidūṣaka, though a Brahmin, bow before her and drink alcohol. A little later Navamālikā makes fun of him before the newly married couple by painting his face with Tamūla juice.Harṣa is fond of descriptions in the approved manner; the evening, midday, the park, the hermitage, the gardens, the fountain, the marriage festival, the hour for the bath, the mountain Malaya, the forest, the palace, are among the ordinary themes beloved in the Kāvya. In imagination and grace he is certainly inferior to Kālidāsa, but he possesses the great merit of simplicity of expression and thought; his Sanskrit is classical, and precise; his use of figures of speech and thought restrained and in good taste. There is fire in his description of a battle:19astravyastaçirastraçastrakaṣaṇaiḥ kṛttottamān̄ge muhurvyūḍhāsṛksariti svanatpraharaṇair gharmodvamadvahniniāhūyājimukhe sa Kosalādhipatir bhagne pradhāne baleekenaiva Rumaṇvatā çaraçatair mattadvipastho hataḥ.‘Heads were cleft by the blows of swords on helmets sore smitten; blood flowed in torrents, fire flashed from the ringing strokes; when his main host had been broken, Rumaṇvant challenged in the forefront of the battle the lord of Kosala, who rode on a maddened elephant, and alone slew him with a hundred arrows.’ The matching of the sound to the sense[178]is admirable, while a delicate perception is evinced in the line describing the king’s success in soothing the wounded queen:20savyājaiḥ çapathaiḥ priyeṇa vacasā cittānuvṛttyādhikamvailakṣyeṇa pareṇa padapatanair vākyaiḥ sakhīnāṁ muhuḥpratyāsattim upāgatā na hi tathā devī rudatyā yathāprakṣālyeva tayaiva bāṣpasalilaiḥ kopo ’panītaḥ svayam.‘It was not so much by my false oaths of devotion, my loving words, my coaxing, my depths of dejection, and falling at her feet, or the advice of her friends, that the queen was appeased as that her anger was wiped away by the cleansing water of her own bitter tears.’ Pretty, if not appropriate, is the king’s address to the fire:21virama virama vahne muñca dhūmānubandham: prakaṭayasi kim uccair arciṣāṁ cakravālam?virahahutabhujāhaṁ yo na dagdhaḥ priyāyāḥ: pralayadahanabhāsā tasya kiṁ tvaṁ karoṣi?‘Stay, stay, fire; cease thy constant smoke; why dost thou raise aloft thy circle of flames? What canst thou avail against me, whom the fire of severance from my beloved, fierce as the flame that shall consume the universe, could not consume?’ There is excellent taste and propriety in Vatsa’s address to the dead Kosala king:22mṛtyur api te çlāghyo yasya çatravo ’py evaṁ puruṣakāraṁ varṇayanti.‘Even death for thee is glorious when even thy foes must thus depict thy manly prowess.’ Such a phrase may reveal to us the true Harṣa himself, the winner of many victories, and the hero of one great disaster.TheNāgānandastrikes varied notes; there is fire and enthusiasm in the assurances which Mitrāvasu gives the prince of the swift overthrow of his enemy, Matan̄ga, at the hands of his faithful Siddhas, will he but give the word:23saṁsarpadbhiḥ samantāt kṛtasakalaviyanmārgayānair vimānaiḥkurvāṇāḥ prāvṛṣīva sthagitaravirucaḥ çyāmatāṁ vāsarasyaete yātāç ca sadyas tava vacanam itaḥ prāpya yuddhāya siddhāḥsiddhaṁ codvṛttaçatrukṣayabhayavinamadrājakaṁ te svarājyam.‘With their chariots, meeting together and o’erspreading the whole surface of the sky as they speed along, darkening the day[179]as when the sun’s rays are hidden in the rain, my Siddhas await but the bidding to fare forthwith hence to the battle; but say the word and thy haughty foe shall fall, and thy kingdom be restored to thee, while the princes bow before thee in fear of his fate.’Jīmūtavāhana, however, has other views of his duty:24svaçarīram api parārthe yaḥ khalu dadyām ayācitaḥ kṛpayārājyasya kṛte sa katham prāṇivadhakrauryam anumanye?‘Gladly, unasked, would I give my own life for another in compassion; how then could I consent to the cruel slaughter of men merely to win a realm?’ The saying is essential to the drama, for it leads immediately to the determination of the prince to sacrifice himself for the Nāga.There is dignity and force in the admonition addressed by the dying hero to the repentant Garuḍa who begs him to command him:25nityam prāṇātipātāt prativirama kuru prākkṛte cānutāpamyatnāt puṇyapravāhaṁ samupacinu diçan sarvasattveṣv abhītimmagnaṁ yenātra nainaḥ phalati parimitaprāṇihiṅsāttam etaddurgāḍhāpāravārer lavaṇapalam iva kṣiptam antar hradasya.‘Cease for ever from taking life; repent of thy past misdeeds; eagerly accumulate a store of merit, freeing all creatures from fear of thee, so that, lost in the infinite stream of thy goodness, the sin of slaying creatures, in number limited, may cease to fructify, even as a morsel of salt cast in the unfathomable depths of a great lake.’Though Buddhist the drama, the benediction is enough to show how effectively the spirit of the Nāṭikā has been introduced into the legend:26dhyānavyājam upetya cintayasi kām unmīlya cakṣuḥ kṣaṇam?paçyānan̄gaçarāturaṁ janam imaṁ trātāpi no rakṣasimithyākāruṇiko ’si nirghṛṇataras tvattaḥ kuto ’nyaḥ pumān?serṣyam Māravadhūbhir ity abhihito Buddho27jinaḥ pātu vaḥ.‘ “Feigned is thy trance; of what fair one dost thou think? Open thine eyes for a moment and gaze on us whom love doth[180]drive mad. Protector art thou; save thou us. False is thy compassion; could there be any man more pitiless than thou?” May he, whom Māra’s beauties thus addressed, the Buddha, the conqueror, protect you.’But Harṣa’s chief merit is undoubtedly shown in erotic verses as in the description of the shyness of the new-made bride in theNāgānanda:28dṛṣṭā dṛṣṭim adho dadhāti kurute nālāpam ābhāṣitāçayyāyām parivṛtya tiṣṭhati balād ālin̄gitā vepateniryāntīṣu sakhīṣu vāsabhavanān nirgantum evehatejātā vāmatayaiva me ’dya sutarām prītyai navoḍhā priyā.‘Looked at, she casts down her face; addressed, she gives no reply; with head averted she lies on the couch; forcibly embraced, she trembles; when her maidens leave her chamber, she seeks also to depart; perverse though she be, my new-wed love delights me more and more.’ The accuracy of the aim of love as an archer is described in theRatnāvalī:29manaḥ prakṛtyaiva calaṁ durlakṣyaṁ ca tathāpi meanan̄gena kathaṁ viddhaṁ samaṁ sarvaçilīmukhāiḥ.‘Mind is naturally mobile and hard to find; nevertheless mine has been pierced by love at once with all his darts.’ In entire harmony with Indian taste Harṣa dwells on the points of physical perfection in the adored one in theNāgānanda:30khedāya stanabhāra eṣa kim u te madhyasya hāro ’parastāmyaty ūruyugaṁ nitambabharataḥ kāñcyānayā kim punaḥçaktiḥ padayugasya noruyugalaṁ voḍhuṁ kuto nūpurausvān̄gair eva vibhūṣitāsi vahasi kleçāya kiṁ maṇḍanam?‘The burden of thy bosom serves to weary thy waist; why then add the weight of thy necklace? Thy thighs are wearied by the bearing of thy hips; why then thy girdle of bells? Thy feet can barely carry the load of thy thighs; why add thine anklets? When in every limb thou dost possess such grace, why dost thou wear ornaments to thy weariness?’ Harṣa is also capable of expressing a deeper side of love, as when the king in theRatnāvalī31fancies that Vāsavadattā has been driven to suicide by his faithlessness:[181]samārūḍhaprītiḥ praṇayabahumānād anudinamvyalīkaṁ vīkṣyedaṁ kṛtam akṛtapūrvaṁ khalu mayāpriyā muñcaty adya sphuṭam asahanā jīvitam asauprakṛṣṭasya premṇaḥ skhalitam aviṣahyaṁ hi bhavati.‘My beloved, whose love for me waxed daily because of my affection and respect, has seen my falsity which she has never known before, and now assuredly she seeks to lay life aside in despair; for unendurable is a wrong against a noble love.’[Contents]5.The Language and the Metres of Harṣa’s DramasHarṣa’s Sanskrit is of the usual classical type, eschewing any deviation from the beaten paths, and his Prākrits, mainly Çaurasenī with Māhārāṣṭrī in the verses, offer nothing of special interest, beyond evidence of his careful study of Prākrit grammar.32His use of metrical forms, on the other hand, marks the tendency to reject the simplicity of the earlier dramatists, and to insist on the use of the more elaborate metres, which in themselves are wholly undramatic, but give a much wider range of opportunity for the exhibition of merits of description. Harṣa’s favourite is the Çārdūlavikrīḍita, which occurs 23 times in theRatnāvalī, 20 times in thePriyadarçikā, and 30 times in theNāgānanda; the Sragdharā takes second place with 11, 8, and 17 occurrences. The Çloka occurs in theRatnāvalī(9)and the Nāgānanda (24), the frequency in the latter being due to the more epic character of the piece; its absence from thePriyadarçikāis marked. The Āryā occurs 9 times each in the Nāṭikās, and 16 times in theNāgānanda. ThePriyadarçikāsuggests by its content immaturity, and its poverty in metres supports this view; it has but seven in all, including Indravajrā, Vasantatilaka (6), Mālinī, and Çikhariṇī. TheNāgānandahas also Çālinī and Hariṇī, in common with theRatnāvalī, and Drutavilambita, while theRatnāvalīadds Puṣpitāgrā, Pṛthvī, and Praharṣiṇī. That play has 5 Prākrit Āryās and 1 Gīti, the other two 3 Āryās apiece, while theRatnāvalīcontains a pretty pair of rhymed verses, each with Pādas of 12 morae.[182][Contents]6.MahendravikramavarmanAlmost a contemporary to a day of Harṣa was Mahendravikramavarman, son of the Pallava king Siṅhaviṣṇuvarman, and himself a king with the styles of Avanibhājana, Guṇabhara, and Mattavilāsa, all alluded to in his play,33who ruled in Kāñcī, the scene of his drama, in the first quarter of the seventh centuryA.D.34Chance rather than any special merit has preserved for us his Prahasana,35which is so far the only early farce published, and which has special interest as it comes from the south, and, as we have seen, shows signs of the same technique as that of Bhāsa. Thus the play is opened by the director at the close of the Nāndī, which is not preserved, and the prologue is styled Sthāpanā, and not, as usual, Prastāvanā. We have also a reference to Karpaṭa as the writer of a text-book for thieves, as in theCārudattaof Bhāsa, but there is an essential difference in the fact that great care is taken in the prologue to set out at length the merits of the author as well as the name of the drama.The director introduces the play by a dialogue in which he by skilled flattery induces his first wife to aid him in the work, despite her annoyance at his taking to himself of a younger bride, and the transition to the actual drama is accomplished as in Bhāsa by his being interrupted in the midst of a verse by a cry from behind the scene, which leads him to complete his stanza by mentioning the appearance of the chief actor and his companion. They are a Çaiva mendicant of the skull-bearing order, a Kapālin, and his damsel, Devasomā by name. Both are intoxicated, and the maiden asks for her companion’s aid to prevent her from falling; he would hold her if he could, but his own condition hinders aid; in remorse he proposes to forswear strong drink, but the lady entreats him not for her sake thus to break[183]his penance, and he joyfully abandons the rash project, praising instead his rule of life:36peyā surā priyatamāmukham īkṣitavyam: grāhyaḥ svabhāvalalito ’vikṛtaç ca veṣaḥyenedam īdṛçam adṛçyata mokṣavartma: dīrghayur astu bhagavān sa pinākapaṇiḥ.‘Long live the god who bears the trident and who has revealed to men this as the way of salvation, to drink brandy, to gaze on the face of one’s beloved, to wear beautiful and becoming raiment.’ He is reminded by his companions that the Arhants have a very different definition of the path of salvation, but he has little trouble in disposing of them:kāryasya niḥsaṁçayam ātmahetoḥ: sarūpatāṁ hetubhir abhyupetyaduḥkhasya kāryaṁ sukham āmanantaḥ: svenaiva vākyena hatā varākāḥ.‘They establish that an effect, as self-caused, is of the same nature as its causes; when, therefore, they declare that pleasure is the effect of pain, the poor fools contradict their own dogmas.’ There follows a complimentary description of Kāñcī, and a careful parallel between the tavern where the pair are seeking more charity and a scene of sacrifice; the Kapālin also discovers that Surā has a celestial origin; it is none other than the form taken by the god of love when burnt by the flame from Çiva’s eye, a conclusion heartily accepted by his friend. The two are successful in attaining alms, but the tragic discovery is made that the skull, which serves as begging bowl, and which seems indeed at first to be theraison d’êtreof the Kapālin, is lost, though he consoles himself by reflecting that it was only a sign and that his occupation is still intact. A search through Kāñcī follows, and suspicion falls on a Buddhist monk, Çākyabhikṣu, who is lamenting the fact that despite the excellent fare he has received the law forbids the enjoyment of strong drink and women; he concludes that the true gospel of the Buddha contained no such ridiculous restrictions, and expresses his desire to benefit the whole community by discovering the authentic text.[184]Naturally, when challenged, he denies that his begging bowl is that of the Kapālin, and blesses the master for his good sense in insisting on shaving the head, since it prevents the damsel from succeeding in her well-meant effort to aid her companion by pulling his hair. His arguments as to the identity of his bowl are unconvincing to the Kapālin:dṛṣṭāni vastūni mahīsamudra—: mahīdharādīni mahānti mohātapahnuvānasya sutaḥ kathaṁ tvam: alpaṁ na nihnotum alaṁ kapālam?‘Thou art the son of one who denies in his folly things that we see, the earth, the ocean, mountains and so forth; how then art thou not ready to deny so small a thing as a bowl?’ Moreover, when the Buddhist, politely and with commendable charity, picks up Devasomā when her fruitless assault on his locks lands her on the ground, he accuses him of taking her in marriage and invokes punishment on this violator of the rights of Brahmins. A Pāçupata, a more respectable type of Çaiva sectarian, comes on the scene and is appealed to as an arbitrator, but finds the task too difficult; both claimants proudly assert their adherence to a creed which forbids lying, and the Buddhist recites in addition the whole list of moral rules which makes up the Çikṣāpada. The obvious arguments from colour and shape in favour of the Buddhist are made out by his rival to be no more than signs of his skill in changing objects at pleasure. Finally the Pāçupata suggests that they must take the matter before a court.En route, however, a diversion is made by an Unmattaka, or madman, who has rescued the skull from a dog, the real thief; he first appears willing to give it as a present to the Pāçupata, who haughtily rejects the horrible object, but suggests the Kapālin as the recipient; then he changes his mind, but, annoyed by the cry of ‘mad’, asks the Kapālin to hold the skull and to show him the madman; the Kapālin, nothing loth, accepts the skull, and misdirects the madman. All are now happy; the Kapālin makes a handsome apology to the Buddhist monk, and the usual Bharatavākya with a reference to the ruling king, the author, concludes the work.The author undoubtedly shows a considerable knowledge of the tenets of the Buddhists, and the play is not unamusing,[185]though the subject is much too trivial for the pains taken to deal with it. The style is certainly appropriate to the subject-matter; it is like that of Harṣa, simple and elegant, while many of the verses are not without force and beauty. In the prose speeches of the Kapālin, however, we have occasional premonitions37of the unwieldy compounds of Bhavabhūti. There is, as in all the later Prahasanas, a certain incongruity between the triviality of the subject-matter and the elaboration of the form but the king has the merit of avoiding the gross vulgarity which marks normally the later works of this type.Short as is the play, it shows a variety of Prākrits, for of thedramatis personaeonly the Kapālin and the Pāçupata speak Sanskrit, while the madman, the Buddhist, and Devasomā talk in Prākrit. That of the Buddhist and of Devasomā is practically Çaurasenī, but the madman uses Māgadhī.38The Prākrits show some of the signs of antiquity which have been seen in Bhāsa’s dramas; thus forms of the plural ināṇiandññin lieu ofṇṇare found, doubtless as a result of the influence of Bhāsa. The frequency of such forms asaho nu khaluandkiṁ nu khaluis precisely in the manner of Bhāsa, and mention may be made of the employment ofmāwith the infinitive in Prākrit in a prohibition.The variety of metres is large in view of the brief extent of the play. There are nine different stanzas employed; five each of the Çloka and Çārdūlavikrīḍita, three each of Indravajrā type and Āryā, two each of Vaṅçasthā type and Vasantatilaka, the solitary Prākrit verse being of the former kind, and one each of Rucirā, Mālinī, and Sragdharā.39[186]1Lévi, BEFEO. iii. 38 f.; Liebich,Das Datum des Candragomin und Kalidasas; Konow, ID. pp. 72 f.; GIL. iii. 185, 399 f.↑2v. 2275.↑3v. 1629.↑4p. 163;Subhāṣitāvali, 1916;Çārn̄gadhara, cxvii. 14; text uncertain.↑5Subhāṣitāvali, 66.↑6Subhāṣitāvali, 69.↑7M. Ettinghausen,Harṣa Vardhana, Louvain, 1905; S. P. Paṇḍit,Gaüdavaho, pp. cvii ff.; K. M. Panikkar,Sri Harsha of Kanauj, Bombay, 1922. It is impossible to connect the dramas with any definite incident of his reign such as the Prayāga festival celebrated by Hiuan-Tsang.↑8i. 2. Cf. Soḍhala (A.D.993) inKāvyamīmāṅsā(GOS. i), p. xii.↑9Trs. Takakusu, pp. 163 f.↑10vv. 856 ff.↑11Ed. C. Cappeller, Böhtlingk,Sanskrit-Chrestomathie, 3rd ed., pp. 326 ff.; trs. Wilson, ii. 255 ff.; L. Fritze, Schloss Chemnitz, 1878. It was performed at a spring festival of Kāma.↑12Ed. R. V. Krishnamachariar, Srirangam, 1906; trs. G. Strehly, Paris, 1888.↑13Ed. Calcutta, 1886; TSS. 1917; trs. P. Boyd, London, 1872; A. Bergaigne, Paris, 1879; E. Teza, Milan, 1904.↑14KSS. xxii. 16–257; xc. 3–201; BKM. iv. 50–108; ix. 2. 776–930.↑15xv.↑16Many traces of theSvapnavāsavadattācan be seen in theRatnāvalī, especially in the characterization of the Vidūṣaka.↑17Āraṇyikā suggests that assertion would be undignified, seeing her actual condition. In theMālavikāgnimitraa prophecy is made to do service as a motif.↑18Cf. Schuyler, JAOS. xx. 338 ff.↑19Ratnāvalī, iv. 6.↑20Ratnāvalī, iv. 1.↑21Ibid., iv. 16.↑22Ibid., iv. 6/7. Cf.Priyadarçikā, i. on Vindhyaketu’s death.↑23iii. 15.↑24iii. 17.↑25v. 25.↑26i. 1.↑27Orbodhau, ‘on his enlightenment.’↑28iii. 4.↑29iii. 2.↑30iv. 7.↑31iii. 15.↑32Māgadhī is found in theNāgānandaspoken by the servant. On the variation of forms in the northern and southern editions see Barnett, JRAS. 1921, p. 589.↑33TheMattavilāsa, ed. TSS. lv. 1917.↑34EI. iv. 152;South Ind. Inscr.i. 29 f.; G. Jouveau-Dubreuil,The Pallavas, pp. 37 ff.↑35ASarvacaritais attributed to a Bāṇa in Rājarāma Çastrin’sSūcīpatra, but it may really be Vāmana Bhaṭṭa Bāṇa’s as is thePārvatīpariṇaya(against Ettinghausen,Harṣa Vardhana, pp. 122 f.). TheMukuṭatāḍitakaof Bāṇa is cited in Caṇḍapāla’s comm. on theNalacampū, p. 227.↑36This verse is attributed to Bhāsa by Somadeva in hisYaçastilaka; Peterson,Reports, ii. 46.↑37pp. 7, 8, 9.↑38So the Unmattaka in thePratijñāyaugandharāyaṇaof Bhāsa.↑39Antiquity is claimed by the editors ofCaturbhāṇī(1922) for the Bhāṇas,Ubhayābhisārikāof Vararuci,Padmaprābhṛtakaof Çūdraka,Dhūrtaviṭasaṁvādaof Īçvaradatta,Pādatāḍitakaof Ārya Çyāmilaka, but no reliance can be placed on the first two ascriptions, and none of the plays need be older than 1000A.D.Their technique is similar to that of theMattavilāsa.↑

[Contents]VIICANDRA, HARṢA, AND MAHENDRAVIKRAMAVARMAN[Contents]1.Candra or CandrakaSome mystery exists as to the identity and character of Candra as a dramatist.1We have in a Tibetan version aLokānanda, a Buddhist drama telling of a certain Maṇicūḍa, who handed over his wife and children to a Brahmin as a sign of supreme generosity, which is ascribed to Candragomin, the grammarian, in whoseÇiṣyalekhāis found a verse ascribed to Candragopin in theSubhāṣitāvali. If this is the dramatist Candaka or Candraka, who is placed by Kalhaṇa under Tuñjina of Kashmir, and who rivalled the author of theMahābhāratain a drama, is wholly uncertain. The grammarian must have lived beforeA.D.650, as he is cited in theKāçikā Vṛttithough not by name; a more precise date it is impossible to give, for his reference to a victory of a Jarta over the Hūṇas cannot be made precise until we know what Jāṭ prince is referred to, though Yaçodharman has been suggested. The identification by Lévi of Candra with a person of that name mentioned by I-Tsing as living in his time is seemingly impossible, though I-Tsing ascribes to him the verse found in theÇiṣyalekhāmentioned above; the verse is lacking in the Tibetan version and I-Tsing may have made a slip. His contemporary seems to have been a Candradāsa, and to have dramatized the Viçvantara legend.To Candaka is ascribed in theSubhāṣitāvali2a fine verse of martial tone:eṣā hi raṇagatasya dṛḍhā pratijñā: drakṣyanti yan na ripavo jaghanaṁ hayānāmyuddheṣu bhāgyacapaleṣu na me pratijñā: daivaṁ yad icchati jayaṁ ca parājayaṁ ca.[169]‘I go to battle, and I swear that my foes shall never see the backs of my steeds; for the rest, fate directs the destiny of the wavering fight; I promise nothing, but shall take defeat or victory as it pleases destiny.’ A verse of love is:3prasāde vartasva prakaṭaya mudaṁ saṁtyaja ruṣampriye çuṣyanty an̄gāny amṛtam iva te siñcatu vacaḥnidhānaṁ saukhyānāṁ kṣaṇam abhimukhaṁ sthāpaya mukhamna mugdhe pratyetum bhavati gataḥ kālahariṇaḥ.‘Be gentle; show a little joy; lay aside thy anger; beloved, my limbs are dried up, let thy speech pour ambrosia upon them. Turn to me for a moment thy face, the abode of happiness; foolish one, time is an antelope which, gone, cannot be recalled.’ The other citations we have show skill both in tragic and erotic sentiment.Candraka was evidently admired by the authorities on poetics; we find in the commentary on theDaçarūpa4a verse, elsewhere ascribed to him, cited as an example where diverse sentiments blend but where one, that of coming parting of lovers, is predominant:ekenākṣṇā paritataruṣā vīkṣate vyomasaṁsthambhānor bimbaṁ sajalalulitenāpareṇātmakāntamahnaç chede dayitavirahāçan̄kinī cakravākīdvau saṁkīrṇau racayati rasau nartakīva pragalbhā.‘With one angry eye she gazes on the orb of the sun as it tarries on the horizon; with the other, dimmed by her tears, she looks on her soul’s beloved; thus the mate of the Cakravāka, feeling the approach at nightfall of separation from her dear one, expresses two emotions, even as a clever actress.’Curiously enough we have no less than four stanzas of benediction ascribed to him, which illustrate a formal feature of the Sanskrit drama, the introduction of each play with one or more stanzas involving divine favour. The verses are interesting, not so much for the intrinsic merits of their poetry, which frankly are not great, but because of the curious manner in which Indian poetry treats its deities; the greatest of gods nevertheless in his sportive moods is yet made the prototype of the human lover:5[170]cyutām indor lekhāṁ ratikalahabhagnaṁ ca valayamçanair ekīkṛtya hasitamukhī çailatanayāavocad yam paçyety avatu sa çivaḥ sā ca girijāsa ca krīḍācandro daçanakiraṇapūritatanuḥ.‘Smiling, the daughter of the mountain wrought into one a digit fallen from the moon and a bracelet broken in a love quarrel, and said to her lord, “Behold my work”. May he, Çiva, protect you, and the lady of the mountain, and that moon of dalliance all covered with bites and rays.’mātar jīva kim etad añjalipuṭe tātena gopāyyatevatsa svādu phalam prayacchati na me gatvā gṛhāṇa svayammātraivam prahite guhe vighaṭayaty ākṛṣya saṁdhyāñjalimçambhor bhinnasamādhir uddharabhaso hāsodgāmaḥ pātu vaḥ.‘O mother.—My life.—What is it that my father guards so carefully in the palm of his hand?—Dear one, it is a sweet fruit.—He will not give me it.—Go thyself and take it.—Thus urged by his mother, Guha seizes the closed hands of his sire as he adores the Twilight and drags them apart; Çiva, angry at the interruption of his devotion, stays his wrath at sight of his son and laughs: may that laughter protect you.’6[Contents]2.The Authorship of the Dramas ascribed to HarṣaThree dramas, as well as some minor poetry, have come down to us under the name of Harṣa, unquestionably the king of Sthāṇvīçvara and Kanyakubja, who reigned from aboutA.D.606 to 648,7the patron of Bāṇa who celebrates him in theHarṣacaritaand of the Chinese pilgrim Hiuan-Tsang who is our most valuable source of information on his reign. That the three plays are by one and the same hand is made certain in part by the common ascription in a verse in the prologue mentioning Harṣa as an accomplished poet, partly by the recurrence of two verses in thePriyadarçikāand theNāgānandaand of one in the former play and theRatnāvalī, and above all by the absolute similarity of style and tone in the three works, which renders any effort to[171]dissociate them wholly impossible. The question of their actual authorship was raised in antiquity; for, while Mammaṭa in hisKāvyaprakāça8merely refers to the gift of gold to Bāṇa—or Dhāvaka in some manuscripts—by Harṣa, the commentators explain this of theRatnāvalī, which was passed off in Harṣa’s name. This is, however, not in any way borne out by early tradition; I-Tsing9clearly refers to the dramatization of the subject of theNāgānandaby Harṣa and its performance, and in theKuṭṭanīmata10of Dāmodaragupta, who lived under Jayāpīḍa of Kashmir (A.D.779–813), a performance of theRatnāvalī, ascribed to a king, is mentioned. The ascription to Bāṇa has nothing even plausible in it, so disparate are the styles of the dramas and theHarṣacarita, and we have the option of believing that Harṣa wrote them himself with such aid as his Paṇḍits might give, or of accepting them as the work of some unknown dramatist, who allowed the king to claim the credit for them.[Contents]3.The Three DramasTheRatnāvalīand thePriyadarçikāare closely connected both in subject-matter and form; they are Nāṭikās, each in four Acts; their common hero is Udayana, whom Bhāsa already celebrated, and the common theme one of his numerous amourettes. TheRatnāvalī,11in special, has found favour in the text-books of the drama, and has served to illustrate the technical rules.The ubiquitous Yaugandharāyaṇa, insatiable in seeking his master’s welfare, has planned marriage for him with the daughter of the king of Ceylon, but to attain this end has been difficult; to avoid vexing the queen Vāsavadattā, he has kept her in the dark, and has spread a rumour which he has had conveyed by Bābhravya, the king’s chamberlain, of the death of Vāsavadattā in a fire at Lāvāṇaka. The king of Ceylon then yields the hand of his daughter, and dispatches her in the care of the chamberlain and his minister Vasubhūti to Vatsa, but, wrecked at sea, she is rescued by a merchant of Kauçāmbī, taken there, and handed[172]over to Vāsavadattā who, seeing her beauty, decides to keep her from contact with her inconstant spouse. But fate is adverse; at the spring festival which she celebrates with Vatsa, Sāgarikā, as the princess is called from her rescue from the sea, appears in the queen’s train; hastily sent away, she lingers concealed, watches the ceremony of the worship of the god Kāma, thinking Vatsa is the god in bodily presence, but is undeceived by the eulogy of the herald announcing the advent of evening. In Act II Sāgarikā is presented with her friend Susaṁgatā; she has depicted the prince on a canvas, and Susaṁgatā in raillery adds her beside him; she admits her love, but the confidence is broken by the alarm created by the escape of a monkey from the stables. In its mad rush it breaks the cage in Sāgarikā’s keeping, and the parrot escapes. The king and the Vidūṣaka enter the grove where the bird is, hear it repeat the maidens’ talk, and find the picture. The maidens returning for the picture overhear the confidences of the king and the Vidūṣaka, until Susaṁgatā sallies out and brings the lovers face to face. Their meeting is cut short by the advent of the queen, who sees the picture, realizes the position, and departs without manifesting the deep anger which she feels and which the king vainly seeks to assuage. In Act III the Vidūṣaka proves to have devised a scheme to secure a meeting of the lovers; Sāgarikā dressed as the queen and Susaṁgatā as her attendant are to meet Vatsa, but the plot is overheard, and it is Vāsavadattā herself who keeps the rendezvous; she listens to Vatsa’s declarations of love, and then bitterly reproaches him, rejecting his attempts to excuse himself. Sāgarikā, who had come on the scene too late, hears the king’s plight; weary, she ties a noose to her neck, when she is saved by the advent of the Vidūṣaka and the king, who naturally mistakes her for Vāsavadattā whom he fears his cruelty has driven to suicide. He joyously recognizes his error, but the queen, who, ashamed of her anger, has returned to make friends with her husband, finds the lovers united, and in violent anger carries off the maiden and the Vidūṣaka captive. But in Act IV we find the Vidūṣaka released and forgiven, but Sāgarikā in some prison, the king helpless to aid her. Good news, however, arrives; the general Rumaṇvant has won a victory over the Kosalas and slain the king. A magician enters and is allowed to display his art,[173]but the spectacle is interrupted by the advent of Vasubhūti and Bābhravya, who also have escaped the shipwreck. They tell their tale of disaster, when another interruption occurs; the harem is on fire; Vāsavadattā, shocked, reveals that Sāgarikā is there; Vatsa rushes to aid her, and emerges with her in chains, for the fire has been no more than a device of the magician. Bābhravya and Vasubhūti recognize in Sāgarikā the princess, and Yaugandharāyaṇa arrives to confess his management of the whole plot and the magician’s device. Vāsavadattā gladly gives the king to Ratnāvalī, since her husband will thus be lord of the earth, and Ratnāvalī is her full cousin.ThePriyadarçikā12introduces us in a speech by his chamberlain, Vinayavasu, to the king Dṛḍhavarman, whose daughter is destined for wedlock with Vatsa despite the demand for her hand made by the king of Kalin̄ga, who revenges himself during Vatsa’s imprisonment at the court of Pradyota by attacking and driving away Dṛḍhavarman. The maid is carried away by the chamberlain and is received and sheltered by Vindhyaketu, her father’s ally, but he offends Vatsa, is attacked and killed by his general Vijayasena, who brings back as part of the booty the unlucky Priyadarçikā; the king allots her to the harem as attendant on Vāsavadattā with the name Āraṇyikā (Āraṇyakā). In Act II we find the king, who has fallen in love with the maiden, seeking to distract himself with his Vidūṣaka. Āraṇyikā enters, to pluck lotuses, with her friend; she tells her love, which the king overhears; a bee attacks her when her friend leaves her, and in her confusion she runs into the arms of the king. Vatsa rescues her, but retires when her confidante returns. Act III tells that the aged confidante of the queen, Sāṁkṛtyāyanī, has composed a play on the marriage of Vatsa and Vāsavadattā which the queen is to see performed; the rôle of queen is to be played by Āraṇyikā, and Manoramā is to act the part of king, but she and the Vidūṣaka have arranged to let the king take the part. The performance causes anxiety to the queen, so ardent is the love-making, though Sāṁkṛtyāyanī reminds her it is but play-making; she leaves the hall, and finds the Vidūṣaka asleep; rudely wakened, he lets out the secret and the queen refuses to listen toVatsa’slame excuses. Act IV reveals Āraṇyikā in[174]prison, the king in despair, and the queen in sorrow, as she has learned from a letter from her mother that Dṛḍhavarman, her aunt’s husband, is in bondage, needing Vatsa’s aid. But Vijayasena brings news of the defeat of the Kalin̄ga king and the re-establishment of Dṛḍhavarman, and the chamberlain of the latter brings his thanks, his one sorrow being his daughter’s loss. Manoramā enters in terror; Āraṇyikā has poisoned herself, Vāsavadattā, filled with remorse, has her fetched, as Vatsa can cure her; the chamberlain recognizes his princess, Vatsa’s magic arts bring her back to consciousness, and Vāsavadattā recognizes in her her cousin, and grants her hand to the king.TheNāgānanda13performed at a festival of Indra, perhaps in the autumn, differs from these dramas in its form, for it is a Nāṭaka in five Acts, and in its inspiration; those are variants by Harṣa on the theme of Vatsa’s loves, this is the dramatization of a Buddhist legend, the self-sacrifice of Jīmūtavāhana, which was told in theBṛhatkathā, whence it appears in the later versions of that text14and in theVetālapañcaviṅçati.15Jīmūtavāhana is a prince of the Vidyādharas, whohas inducedhis father to resign his kingship, and give himself up to a life of calm; he has made the acquaintance of Mitrāvasu, the prince of the Siddhas, who has a sister. She has had a dream in which Gaurī has revealed to her her future husband, and Jīmūtavāhana hidden behind a thicket overhears her confiding this dream to her friend; the Vidūṣaka forces a meeting on the timid lovers, who shyly confess their affection, when an ascetic from the hermitage arrives to take the maiden away. In Act II Malayavatī is love-sick, resting on a stone seat in the garden; a sound makes her move away, when the king enters, equally oppressed, declares his love and paints his fancy. Mitrāvasu comes to offer him his sister’s hand; the king declines it, ignorant of whom he loves; she deems herself disdained and seeks to hang herself, but her friends rescue her and call for aid. Jīmūtavāhana appears, and proves that she is his love by showing the picture. The two exchange vows, and the marriage is concluded. In Act III, after a comic interlude, we find them walking in the park in happiness; Jīmūtavāhana is[175]apprised of the seizure of his kingdom, but accepts the news gladly. But the last two Acts change the topic. While strolling with Mitrāvasu one day, Jīmūtavāhana sees a heap of bones and learns that they are the bones of serpents daily offered to the divine bird Garuḍa; he resolves to save the lives of the serpents at the cost of his own, gets rid of Mitrāvasu, and goes to the place of offering. He hears the sobs of the mother of Çan̄khacūḍa, whose son is about to be offered, consoles her by offering himself in ransom, but is refused with admiration for his gallantry. But, when the two have entered the temple to pray before the offering, he gives himself to Garuḍa as substitute and is borne away. The last Act opens with the anxiety of the parents of Jīmūtavāhana, to whom and his wife is borne a jewel fallen from his crown; Çan̄khacūḍa, also, emerged from the temple, finds the sacrifice made and reveals to Garuḍa his crime. It is too late; the hero expires as his parents arrive. Garuḍa is ashamed, and Gaurī appears to cut the knot, revive the prince, and re-establish him in his realm, in order to keep faith with Malayavatī; by a shower of ambrosia the snakes slain by Garuḍa revive, and he promises to forego his cruel revenge.[Contents]4.Harṣa’s Art and StyleComparison with Kālidāsa is doubtless the cause why Harṣa has tended to receive less praise than is due to his dramas. The originality of his Nāṭikās is not perhaps great, but he has effectively devised the plot in both; the action moves smoothly and in either play there is ingenuity. The scene of the magician’s activity in theRatnāvalīis depicted with humour and vivacity; the parrot’s escape and its chatter are sketched with piquancy, and the exchange of costumes in theRatnāvalīis natural and effective. The double comedy in thePriyadarçikāis a happy thought, the intrigue in Act IV is neatly conducted, so as to show us Vāsavadattā in the light of an affectionate niece, and the scene with the bee is attractive. It is true that the plays are full of reminiscences of theMālavikāgnimitra, such as the escape in theRatnāvalīof the monkey, and the monkey that there frightens the little princess while Sāṁkṛtyāyanī is Kauçikī revived. But in this artificial comedy elegance is sought, not[176]originality,16and Harṣa is a clever borrower. The similarity of development of both plays is perhaps more to be condemned; they are too obviously variations of one theme.The dominant emotion in either is love of the type which appertains to a noble and gay (dhīralalita) hero, who is always courteous, whose loves, that is to say, mean very little to him, and who does not forget to assure the old love of his devotion while playing with the new. This is a different aspect of Vatsa’s character from that displayed by Bhāsa, and admittedly a much inferior one. Vāsavadattā suffers equal deterioration, for she is no longer the wife who sacrifices herself for her husband’s good; she is rather a jealous, though noble and kind-hearted woman, whose love for her husband makes her resent too deeply his inconstancy. The heroines areingénueswith nothing but good looks and willingness to be loved by the king, whom they know, though he does not, to be destined by their fathers as their husband. In neither case is any adequate reason17suggested for the failure to declare themselves in their true character, unless we are to assume that they would not, in the absence of sponsors, have been believed. Susaṁgatā, the friend of the heroine in theRatnāvalī, is a pleasant, merry girl who makes excellent fun of her mistress. The Vidūṣaka18in both plays is typical in his greediness, but his figure lacks comic force; he is, however, a pleasant enough character, for his love for his master is genuine; he is prepared to die with him in theRatnāvalī, though he thinks his action in rushing into the fire quixotic. The magician is an amusing and clever sketch of great pretensions allied to some juggling skill.TheNāgānandareveals Harṣa in a new light in the last two Acts. His liking for the marvellous is exhibited indeed in the last Acts of both the Nāṭikās in accord with the theory, but it has a far wider scope in theNāgānanda, where the supernatural freely appears, and, though the drama be Buddhist in inspiration, Gaurī is introduced to solve the difficulty of restoring[177]Jīmūtavāhana. Harṣa here rises to the task of depicting the emotions of self-sacrifice, charity, magnanimity, and resolution in the face of death; Jīmūtavāhana, however bizarre his setting, is one of the ideals of Buddhism, a man seized with the conviction that to sacrifice oneself for others is the highest duty. Çan̄khacūḍa and his mother too appear as noble in character, far superior to the savage Garuḍa. There is, it must be admitted, a decided lack of harmony between the two distinct parts of the drama, but the total effect is far from unsuccessful. Perhaps as a counterpoise to the seriousness of the last part, Harṣa has introduced effective comedy in Act III. The Vidūṣaka, Ātreya, is hideous and stupid; as he lies sleeping, covered by a mantle to protect him from the bees, the Viṭa, Çekharaka, sees him, mistakes him for his inamorata, embraces him and fondles him. Navamālikā enters, and, indignant, the Viṭa makes the Vidūṣaka, though a Brahmin, bow before her and drink alcohol. A little later Navamālikā makes fun of him before the newly married couple by painting his face with Tamūla juice.Harṣa is fond of descriptions in the approved manner; the evening, midday, the park, the hermitage, the gardens, the fountain, the marriage festival, the hour for the bath, the mountain Malaya, the forest, the palace, are among the ordinary themes beloved in the Kāvya. In imagination and grace he is certainly inferior to Kālidāsa, but he possesses the great merit of simplicity of expression and thought; his Sanskrit is classical, and precise; his use of figures of speech and thought restrained and in good taste. There is fire in his description of a battle:19astravyastaçirastraçastrakaṣaṇaiḥ kṛttottamān̄ge muhurvyūḍhāsṛksariti svanatpraharaṇair gharmodvamadvahniniāhūyājimukhe sa Kosalādhipatir bhagne pradhāne baleekenaiva Rumaṇvatā çaraçatair mattadvipastho hataḥ.‘Heads were cleft by the blows of swords on helmets sore smitten; blood flowed in torrents, fire flashed from the ringing strokes; when his main host had been broken, Rumaṇvant challenged in the forefront of the battle the lord of Kosala, who rode on a maddened elephant, and alone slew him with a hundred arrows.’ The matching of the sound to the sense[178]is admirable, while a delicate perception is evinced in the line describing the king’s success in soothing the wounded queen:20savyājaiḥ çapathaiḥ priyeṇa vacasā cittānuvṛttyādhikamvailakṣyeṇa pareṇa padapatanair vākyaiḥ sakhīnāṁ muhuḥpratyāsattim upāgatā na hi tathā devī rudatyā yathāprakṣālyeva tayaiva bāṣpasalilaiḥ kopo ’panītaḥ svayam.‘It was not so much by my false oaths of devotion, my loving words, my coaxing, my depths of dejection, and falling at her feet, or the advice of her friends, that the queen was appeased as that her anger was wiped away by the cleansing water of her own bitter tears.’ Pretty, if not appropriate, is the king’s address to the fire:21virama virama vahne muñca dhūmānubandham: prakaṭayasi kim uccair arciṣāṁ cakravālam?virahahutabhujāhaṁ yo na dagdhaḥ priyāyāḥ: pralayadahanabhāsā tasya kiṁ tvaṁ karoṣi?‘Stay, stay, fire; cease thy constant smoke; why dost thou raise aloft thy circle of flames? What canst thou avail against me, whom the fire of severance from my beloved, fierce as the flame that shall consume the universe, could not consume?’ There is excellent taste and propriety in Vatsa’s address to the dead Kosala king:22mṛtyur api te çlāghyo yasya çatravo ’py evaṁ puruṣakāraṁ varṇayanti.‘Even death for thee is glorious when even thy foes must thus depict thy manly prowess.’ Such a phrase may reveal to us the true Harṣa himself, the winner of many victories, and the hero of one great disaster.TheNāgānandastrikes varied notes; there is fire and enthusiasm in the assurances which Mitrāvasu gives the prince of the swift overthrow of his enemy, Matan̄ga, at the hands of his faithful Siddhas, will he but give the word:23saṁsarpadbhiḥ samantāt kṛtasakalaviyanmārgayānair vimānaiḥkurvāṇāḥ prāvṛṣīva sthagitaravirucaḥ çyāmatāṁ vāsarasyaete yātāç ca sadyas tava vacanam itaḥ prāpya yuddhāya siddhāḥsiddhaṁ codvṛttaçatrukṣayabhayavinamadrājakaṁ te svarājyam.‘With their chariots, meeting together and o’erspreading the whole surface of the sky as they speed along, darkening the day[179]as when the sun’s rays are hidden in the rain, my Siddhas await but the bidding to fare forthwith hence to the battle; but say the word and thy haughty foe shall fall, and thy kingdom be restored to thee, while the princes bow before thee in fear of his fate.’Jīmūtavāhana, however, has other views of his duty:24svaçarīram api parārthe yaḥ khalu dadyām ayācitaḥ kṛpayārājyasya kṛte sa katham prāṇivadhakrauryam anumanye?‘Gladly, unasked, would I give my own life for another in compassion; how then could I consent to the cruel slaughter of men merely to win a realm?’ The saying is essential to the drama, for it leads immediately to the determination of the prince to sacrifice himself for the Nāga.There is dignity and force in the admonition addressed by the dying hero to the repentant Garuḍa who begs him to command him:25nityam prāṇātipātāt prativirama kuru prākkṛte cānutāpamyatnāt puṇyapravāhaṁ samupacinu diçan sarvasattveṣv abhītimmagnaṁ yenātra nainaḥ phalati parimitaprāṇihiṅsāttam etaddurgāḍhāpāravārer lavaṇapalam iva kṣiptam antar hradasya.‘Cease for ever from taking life; repent of thy past misdeeds; eagerly accumulate a store of merit, freeing all creatures from fear of thee, so that, lost in the infinite stream of thy goodness, the sin of slaying creatures, in number limited, may cease to fructify, even as a morsel of salt cast in the unfathomable depths of a great lake.’Though Buddhist the drama, the benediction is enough to show how effectively the spirit of the Nāṭikā has been introduced into the legend:26dhyānavyājam upetya cintayasi kām unmīlya cakṣuḥ kṣaṇam?paçyānan̄gaçarāturaṁ janam imaṁ trātāpi no rakṣasimithyākāruṇiko ’si nirghṛṇataras tvattaḥ kuto ’nyaḥ pumān?serṣyam Māravadhūbhir ity abhihito Buddho27jinaḥ pātu vaḥ.‘ “Feigned is thy trance; of what fair one dost thou think? Open thine eyes for a moment and gaze on us whom love doth[180]drive mad. Protector art thou; save thou us. False is thy compassion; could there be any man more pitiless than thou?” May he, whom Māra’s beauties thus addressed, the Buddha, the conqueror, protect you.’But Harṣa’s chief merit is undoubtedly shown in erotic verses as in the description of the shyness of the new-made bride in theNāgānanda:28dṛṣṭā dṛṣṭim adho dadhāti kurute nālāpam ābhāṣitāçayyāyām parivṛtya tiṣṭhati balād ālin̄gitā vepateniryāntīṣu sakhīṣu vāsabhavanān nirgantum evehatejātā vāmatayaiva me ’dya sutarām prītyai navoḍhā priyā.‘Looked at, she casts down her face; addressed, she gives no reply; with head averted she lies on the couch; forcibly embraced, she trembles; when her maidens leave her chamber, she seeks also to depart; perverse though she be, my new-wed love delights me more and more.’ The accuracy of the aim of love as an archer is described in theRatnāvalī:29manaḥ prakṛtyaiva calaṁ durlakṣyaṁ ca tathāpi meanan̄gena kathaṁ viddhaṁ samaṁ sarvaçilīmukhāiḥ.‘Mind is naturally mobile and hard to find; nevertheless mine has been pierced by love at once with all his darts.’ In entire harmony with Indian taste Harṣa dwells on the points of physical perfection in the adored one in theNāgānanda:30khedāya stanabhāra eṣa kim u te madhyasya hāro ’parastāmyaty ūruyugaṁ nitambabharataḥ kāñcyānayā kim punaḥçaktiḥ padayugasya noruyugalaṁ voḍhuṁ kuto nūpurausvān̄gair eva vibhūṣitāsi vahasi kleçāya kiṁ maṇḍanam?‘The burden of thy bosom serves to weary thy waist; why then add the weight of thy necklace? Thy thighs are wearied by the bearing of thy hips; why then thy girdle of bells? Thy feet can barely carry the load of thy thighs; why add thine anklets? When in every limb thou dost possess such grace, why dost thou wear ornaments to thy weariness?’ Harṣa is also capable of expressing a deeper side of love, as when the king in theRatnāvalī31fancies that Vāsavadattā has been driven to suicide by his faithlessness:[181]samārūḍhaprītiḥ praṇayabahumānād anudinamvyalīkaṁ vīkṣyedaṁ kṛtam akṛtapūrvaṁ khalu mayāpriyā muñcaty adya sphuṭam asahanā jīvitam asauprakṛṣṭasya premṇaḥ skhalitam aviṣahyaṁ hi bhavati.‘My beloved, whose love for me waxed daily because of my affection and respect, has seen my falsity which she has never known before, and now assuredly she seeks to lay life aside in despair; for unendurable is a wrong against a noble love.’[Contents]5.The Language and the Metres of Harṣa’s DramasHarṣa’s Sanskrit is of the usual classical type, eschewing any deviation from the beaten paths, and his Prākrits, mainly Çaurasenī with Māhārāṣṭrī in the verses, offer nothing of special interest, beyond evidence of his careful study of Prākrit grammar.32His use of metrical forms, on the other hand, marks the tendency to reject the simplicity of the earlier dramatists, and to insist on the use of the more elaborate metres, which in themselves are wholly undramatic, but give a much wider range of opportunity for the exhibition of merits of description. Harṣa’s favourite is the Çārdūlavikrīḍita, which occurs 23 times in theRatnāvalī, 20 times in thePriyadarçikā, and 30 times in theNāgānanda; the Sragdharā takes second place with 11, 8, and 17 occurrences. The Çloka occurs in theRatnāvalī(9)and the Nāgānanda (24), the frequency in the latter being due to the more epic character of the piece; its absence from thePriyadarçikāis marked. The Āryā occurs 9 times each in the Nāṭikās, and 16 times in theNāgānanda. ThePriyadarçikāsuggests by its content immaturity, and its poverty in metres supports this view; it has but seven in all, including Indravajrā, Vasantatilaka (6), Mālinī, and Çikhariṇī. TheNāgānandahas also Çālinī and Hariṇī, in common with theRatnāvalī, and Drutavilambita, while theRatnāvalīadds Puṣpitāgrā, Pṛthvī, and Praharṣiṇī. That play has 5 Prākrit Āryās and 1 Gīti, the other two 3 Āryās apiece, while theRatnāvalīcontains a pretty pair of rhymed verses, each with Pādas of 12 morae.[182][Contents]6.MahendravikramavarmanAlmost a contemporary to a day of Harṣa was Mahendravikramavarman, son of the Pallava king Siṅhaviṣṇuvarman, and himself a king with the styles of Avanibhājana, Guṇabhara, and Mattavilāsa, all alluded to in his play,33who ruled in Kāñcī, the scene of his drama, in the first quarter of the seventh centuryA.D.34Chance rather than any special merit has preserved for us his Prahasana,35which is so far the only early farce published, and which has special interest as it comes from the south, and, as we have seen, shows signs of the same technique as that of Bhāsa. Thus the play is opened by the director at the close of the Nāndī, which is not preserved, and the prologue is styled Sthāpanā, and not, as usual, Prastāvanā. We have also a reference to Karpaṭa as the writer of a text-book for thieves, as in theCārudattaof Bhāsa, but there is an essential difference in the fact that great care is taken in the prologue to set out at length the merits of the author as well as the name of the drama.The director introduces the play by a dialogue in which he by skilled flattery induces his first wife to aid him in the work, despite her annoyance at his taking to himself of a younger bride, and the transition to the actual drama is accomplished as in Bhāsa by his being interrupted in the midst of a verse by a cry from behind the scene, which leads him to complete his stanza by mentioning the appearance of the chief actor and his companion. They are a Çaiva mendicant of the skull-bearing order, a Kapālin, and his damsel, Devasomā by name. Both are intoxicated, and the maiden asks for her companion’s aid to prevent her from falling; he would hold her if he could, but his own condition hinders aid; in remorse he proposes to forswear strong drink, but the lady entreats him not for her sake thus to break[183]his penance, and he joyfully abandons the rash project, praising instead his rule of life:36peyā surā priyatamāmukham īkṣitavyam: grāhyaḥ svabhāvalalito ’vikṛtaç ca veṣaḥyenedam īdṛçam adṛçyata mokṣavartma: dīrghayur astu bhagavān sa pinākapaṇiḥ.‘Long live the god who bears the trident and who has revealed to men this as the way of salvation, to drink brandy, to gaze on the face of one’s beloved, to wear beautiful and becoming raiment.’ He is reminded by his companions that the Arhants have a very different definition of the path of salvation, but he has little trouble in disposing of them:kāryasya niḥsaṁçayam ātmahetoḥ: sarūpatāṁ hetubhir abhyupetyaduḥkhasya kāryaṁ sukham āmanantaḥ: svenaiva vākyena hatā varākāḥ.‘They establish that an effect, as self-caused, is of the same nature as its causes; when, therefore, they declare that pleasure is the effect of pain, the poor fools contradict their own dogmas.’ There follows a complimentary description of Kāñcī, and a careful parallel between the tavern where the pair are seeking more charity and a scene of sacrifice; the Kapālin also discovers that Surā has a celestial origin; it is none other than the form taken by the god of love when burnt by the flame from Çiva’s eye, a conclusion heartily accepted by his friend. The two are successful in attaining alms, but the tragic discovery is made that the skull, which serves as begging bowl, and which seems indeed at first to be theraison d’êtreof the Kapālin, is lost, though he consoles himself by reflecting that it was only a sign and that his occupation is still intact. A search through Kāñcī follows, and suspicion falls on a Buddhist monk, Çākyabhikṣu, who is lamenting the fact that despite the excellent fare he has received the law forbids the enjoyment of strong drink and women; he concludes that the true gospel of the Buddha contained no such ridiculous restrictions, and expresses his desire to benefit the whole community by discovering the authentic text.[184]Naturally, when challenged, he denies that his begging bowl is that of the Kapālin, and blesses the master for his good sense in insisting on shaving the head, since it prevents the damsel from succeeding in her well-meant effort to aid her companion by pulling his hair. His arguments as to the identity of his bowl are unconvincing to the Kapālin:dṛṣṭāni vastūni mahīsamudra—: mahīdharādīni mahānti mohātapahnuvānasya sutaḥ kathaṁ tvam: alpaṁ na nihnotum alaṁ kapālam?‘Thou art the son of one who denies in his folly things that we see, the earth, the ocean, mountains and so forth; how then art thou not ready to deny so small a thing as a bowl?’ Moreover, when the Buddhist, politely and with commendable charity, picks up Devasomā when her fruitless assault on his locks lands her on the ground, he accuses him of taking her in marriage and invokes punishment on this violator of the rights of Brahmins. A Pāçupata, a more respectable type of Çaiva sectarian, comes on the scene and is appealed to as an arbitrator, but finds the task too difficult; both claimants proudly assert their adherence to a creed which forbids lying, and the Buddhist recites in addition the whole list of moral rules which makes up the Çikṣāpada. The obvious arguments from colour and shape in favour of the Buddhist are made out by his rival to be no more than signs of his skill in changing objects at pleasure. Finally the Pāçupata suggests that they must take the matter before a court.En route, however, a diversion is made by an Unmattaka, or madman, who has rescued the skull from a dog, the real thief; he first appears willing to give it as a present to the Pāçupata, who haughtily rejects the horrible object, but suggests the Kapālin as the recipient; then he changes his mind, but, annoyed by the cry of ‘mad’, asks the Kapālin to hold the skull and to show him the madman; the Kapālin, nothing loth, accepts the skull, and misdirects the madman. All are now happy; the Kapālin makes a handsome apology to the Buddhist monk, and the usual Bharatavākya with a reference to the ruling king, the author, concludes the work.The author undoubtedly shows a considerable knowledge of the tenets of the Buddhists, and the play is not unamusing,[185]though the subject is much too trivial for the pains taken to deal with it. The style is certainly appropriate to the subject-matter; it is like that of Harṣa, simple and elegant, while many of the verses are not without force and beauty. In the prose speeches of the Kapālin, however, we have occasional premonitions37of the unwieldy compounds of Bhavabhūti. There is, as in all the later Prahasanas, a certain incongruity between the triviality of the subject-matter and the elaboration of the form but the king has the merit of avoiding the gross vulgarity which marks normally the later works of this type.Short as is the play, it shows a variety of Prākrits, for of thedramatis personaeonly the Kapālin and the Pāçupata speak Sanskrit, while the madman, the Buddhist, and Devasomā talk in Prākrit. That of the Buddhist and of Devasomā is practically Çaurasenī, but the madman uses Māgadhī.38The Prākrits show some of the signs of antiquity which have been seen in Bhāsa’s dramas; thus forms of the plural ināṇiandññin lieu ofṇṇare found, doubtless as a result of the influence of Bhāsa. The frequency of such forms asaho nu khaluandkiṁ nu khaluis precisely in the manner of Bhāsa, and mention may be made of the employment ofmāwith the infinitive in Prākrit in a prohibition.The variety of metres is large in view of the brief extent of the play. There are nine different stanzas employed; five each of the Çloka and Çārdūlavikrīḍita, three each of Indravajrā type and Āryā, two each of Vaṅçasthā type and Vasantatilaka, the solitary Prākrit verse being of the former kind, and one each of Rucirā, Mālinī, and Sragdharā.39[186]1Lévi, BEFEO. iii. 38 f.; Liebich,Das Datum des Candragomin und Kalidasas; Konow, ID. pp. 72 f.; GIL. iii. 185, 399 f.↑2v. 2275.↑3v. 1629.↑4p. 163;Subhāṣitāvali, 1916;Çārn̄gadhara, cxvii. 14; text uncertain.↑5Subhāṣitāvali, 66.↑6Subhāṣitāvali, 69.↑7M. Ettinghausen,Harṣa Vardhana, Louvain, 1905; S. P. Paṇḍit,Gaüdavaho, pp. cvii ff.; K. M. Panikkar,Sri Harsha of Kanauj, Bombay, 1922. It is impossible to connect the dramas with any definite incident of his reign such as the Prayāga festival celebrated by Hiuan-Tsang.↑8i. 2. Cf. Soḍhala (A.D.993) inKāvyamīmāṅsā(GOS. i), p. xii.↑9Trs. Takakusu, pp. 163 f.↑10vv. 856 ff.↑11Ed. C. Cappeller, Böhtlingk,Sanskrit-Chrestomathie, 3rd ed., pp. 326 ff.; trs. Wilson, ii. 255 ff.; L. Fritze, Schloss Chemnitz, 1878. It was performed at a spring festival of Kāma.↑12Ed. R. V. Krishnamachariar, Srirangam, 1906; trs. G. Strehly, Paris, 1888.↑13Ed. Calcutta, 1886; TSS. 1917; trs. P. Boyd, London, 1872; A. Bergaigne, Paris, 1879; E. Teza, Milan, 1904.↑14KSS. xxii. 16–257; xc. 3–201; BKM. iv. 50–108; ix. 2. 776–930.↑15xv.↑16Many traces of theSvapnavāsavadattācan be seen in theRatnāvalī, especially in the characterization of the Vidūṣaka.↑17Āraṇyikā suggests that assertion would be undignified, seeing her actual condition. In theMālavikāgnimitraa prophecy is made to do service as a motif.↑18Cf. Schuyler, JAOS. xx. 338 ff.↑19Ratnāvalī, iv. 6.↑20Ratnāvalī, iv. 1.↑21Ibid., iv. 16.↑22Ibid., iv. 6/7. Cf.Priyadarçikā, i. on Vindhyaketu’s death.↑23iii. 15.↑24iii. 17.↑25v. 25.↑26i. 1.↑27Orbodhau, ‘on his enlightenment.’↑28iii. 4.↑29iii. 2.↑30iv. 7.↑31iii. 15.↑32Māgadhī is found in theNāgānandaspoken by the servant. On the variation of forms in the northern and southern editions see Barnett, JRAS. 1921, p. 589.↑33TheMattavilāsa, ed. TSS. lv. 1917.↑34EI. iv. 152;South Ind. Inscr.i. 29 f.; G. Jouveau-Dubreuil,The Pallavas, pp. 37 ff.↑35ASarvacaritais attributed to a Bāṇa in Rājarāma Çastrin’sSūcīpatra, but it may really be Vāmana Bhaṭṭa Bāṇa’s as is thePārvatīpariṇaya(against Ettinghausen,Harṣa Vardhana, pp. 122 f.). TheMukuṭatāḍitakaof Bāṇa is cited in Caṇḍapāla’s comm. on theNalacampū, p. 227.↑36This verse is attributed to Bhāsa by Somadeva in hisYaçastilaka; Peterson,Reports, ii. 46.↑37pp. 7, 8, 9.↑38So the Unmattaka in thePratijñāyaugandharāyaṇaof Bhāsa.↑39Antiquity is claimed by the editors ofCaturbhāṇī(1922) for the Bhāṇas,Ubhayābhisārikāof Vararuci,Padmaprābhṛtakaof Çūdraka,Dhūrtaviṭasaṁvādaof Īçvaradatta,Pādatāḍitakaof Ārya Çyāmilaka, but no reliance can be placed on the first two ascriptions, and none of the plays need be older than 1000A.D.Their technique is similar to that of theMattavilāsa.↑

VIICANDRA, HARṢA, AND MAHENDRAVIKRAMAVARMAN

[Contents]1.Candra or CandrakaSome mystery exists as to the identity and character of Candra as a dramatist.1We have in a Tibetan version aLokānanda, a Buddhist drama telling of a certain Maṇicūḍa, who handed over his wife and children to a Brahmin as a sign of supreme generosity, which is ascribed to Candragomin, the grammarian, in whoseÇiṣyalekhāis found a verse ascribed to Candragopin in theSubhāṣitāvali. If this is the dramatist Candaka or Candraka, who is placed by Kalhaṇa under Tuñjina of Kashmir, and who rivalled the author of theMahābhāratain a drama, is wholly uncertain. The grammarian must have lived beforeA.D.650, as he is cited in theKāçikā Vṛttithough not by name; a more precise date it is impossible to give, for his reference to a victory of a Jarta over the Hūṇas cannot be made precise until we know what Jāṭ prince is referred to, though Yaçodharman has been suggested. The identification by Lévi of Candra with a person of that name mentioned by I-Tsing as living in his time is seemingly impossible, though I-Tsing ascribes to him the verse found in theÇiṣyalekhāmentioned above; the verse is lacking in the Tibetan version and I-Tsing may have made a slip. His contemporary seems to have been a Candradāsa, and to have dramatized the Viçvantara legend.To Candaka is ascribed in theSubhāṣitāvali2a fine verse of martial tone:eṣā hi raṇagatasya dṛḍhā pratijñā: drakṣyanti yan na ripavo jaghanaṁ hayānāmyuddheṣu bhāgyacapaleṣu na me pratijñā: daivaṁ yad icchati jayaṁ ca parājayaṁ ca.[169]‘I go to battle, and I swear that my foes shall never see the backs of my steeds; for the rest, fate directs the destiny of the wavering fight; I promise nothing, but shall take defeat or victory as it pleases destiny.’ A verse of love is:3prasāde vartasva prakaṭaya mudaṁ saṁtyaja ruṣampriye çuṣyanty an̄gāny amṛtam iva te siñcatu vacaḥnidhānaṁ saukhyānāṁ kṣaṇam abhimukhaṁ sthāpaya mukhamna mugdhe pratyetum bhavati gataḥ kālahariṇaḥ.‘Be gentle; show a little joy; lay aside thy anger; beloved, my limbs are dried up, let thy speech pour ambrosia upon them. Turn to me for a moment thy face, the abode of happiness; foolish one, time is an antelope which, gone, cannot be recalled.’ The other citations we have show skill both in tragic and erotic sentiment.Candraka was evidently admired by the authorities on poetics; we find in the commentary on theDaçarūpa4a verse, elsewhere ascribed to him, cited as an example where diverse sentiments blend but where one, that of coming parting of lovers, is predominant:ekenākṣṇā paritataruṣā vīkṣate vyomasaṁsthambhānor bimbaṁ sajalalulitenāpareṇātmakāntamahnaç chede dayitavirahāçan̄kinī cakravākīdvau saṁkīrṇau racayati rasau nartakīva pragalbhā.‘With one angry eye she gazes on the orb of the sun as it tarries on the horizon; with the other, dimmed by her tears, she looks on her soul’s beloved; thus the mate of the Cakravāka, feeling the approach at nightfall of separation from her dear one, expresses two emotions, even as a clever actress.’Curiously enough we have no less than four stanzas of benediction ascribed to him, which illustrate a formal feature of the Sanskrit drama, the introduction of each play with one or more stanzas involving divine favour. The verses are interesting, not so much for the intrinsic merits of their poetry, which frankly are not great, but because of the curious manner in which Indian poetry treats its deities; the greatest of gods nevertheless in his sportive moods is yet made the prototype of the human lover:5[170]cyutām indor lekhāṁ ratikalahabhagnaṁ ca valayamçanair ekīkṛtya hasitamukhī çailatanayāavocad yam paçyety avatu sa çivaḥ sā ca girijāsa ca krīḍācandro daçanakiraṇapūritatanuḥ.‘Smiling, the daughter of the mountain wrought into one a digit fallen from the moon and a bracelet broken in a love quarrel, and said to her lord, “Behold my work”. May he, Çiva, protect you, and the lady of the mountain, and that moon of dalliance all covered with bites and rays.’mātar jīva kim etad añjalipuṭe tātena gopāyyatevatsa svādu phalam prayacchati na me gatvā gṛhāṇa svayammātraivam prahite guhe vighaṭayaty ākṛṣya saṁdhyāñjalimçambhor bhinnasamādhir uddharabhaso hāsodgāmaḥ pātu vaḥ.‘O mother.—My life.—What is it that my father guards so carefully in the palm of his hand?—Dear one, it is a sweet fruit.—He will not give me it.—Go thyself and take it.—Thus urged by his mother, Guha seizes the closed hands of his sire as he adores the Twilight and drags them apart; Çiva, angry at the interruption of his devotion, stays his wrath at sight of his son and laughs: may that laughter protect you.’6[Contents]2.The Authorship of the Dramas ascribed to HarṣaThree dramas, as well as some minor poetry, have come down to us under the name of Harṣa, unquestionably the king of Sthāṇvīçvara and Kanyakubja, who reigned from aboutA.D.606 to 648,7the patron of Bāṇa who celebrates him in theHarṣacaritaand of the Chinese pilgrim Hiuan-Tsang who is our most valuable source of information on his reign. That the three plays are by one and the same hand is made certain in part by the common ascription in a verse in the prologue mentioning Harṣa as an accomplished poet, partly by the recurrence of two verses in thePriyadarçikāand theNāgānandaand of one in the former play and theRatnāvalī, and above all by the absolute similarity of style and tone in the three works, which renders any effort to[171]dissociate them wholly impossible. The question of their actual authorship was raised in antiquity; for, while Mammaṭa in hisKāvyaprakāça8merely refers to the gift of gold to Bāṇa—or Dhāvaka in some manuscripts—by Harṣa, the commentators explain this of theRatnāvalī, which was passed off in Harṣa’s name. This is, however, not in any way borne out by early tradition; I-Tsing9clearly refers to the dramatization of the subject of theNāgānandaby Harṣa and its performance, and in theKuṭṭanīmata10of Dāmodaragupta, who lived under Jayāpīḍa of Kashmir (A.D.779–813), a performance of theRatnāvalī, ascribed to a king, is mentioned. The ascription to Bāṇa has nothing even plausible in it, so disparate are the styles of the dramas and theHarṣacarita, and we have the option of believing that Harṣa wrote them himself with such aid as his Paṇḍits might give, or of accepting them as the work of some unknown dramatist, who allowed the king to claim the credit for them.[Contents]3.The Three DramasTheRatnāvalīand thePriyadarçikāare closely connected both in subject-matter and form; they are Nāṭikās, each in four Acts; their common hero is Udayana, whom Bhāsa already celebrated, and the common theme one of his numerous amourettes. TheRatnāvalī,11in special, has found favour in the text-books of the drama, and has served to illustrate the technical rules.The ubiquitous Yaugandharāyaṇa, insatiable in seeking his master’s welfare, has planned marriage for him with the daughter of the king of Ceylon, but to attain this end has been difficult; to avoid vexing the queen Vāsavadattā, he has kept her in the dark, and has spread a rumour which he has had conveyed by Bābhravya, the king’s chamberlain, of the death of Vāsavadattā in a fire at Lāvāṇaka. The king of Ceylon then yields the hand of his daughter, and dispatches her in the care of the chamberlain and his minister Vasubhūti to Vatsa, but, wrecked at sea, she is rescued by a merchant of Kauçāmbī, taken there, and handed[172]over to Vāsavadattā who, seeing her beauty, decides to keep her from contact with her inconstant spouse. But fate is adverse; at the spring festival which she celebrates with Vatsa, Sāgarikā, as the princess is called from her rescue from the sea, appears in the queen’s train; hastily sent away, she lingers concealed, watches the ceremony of the worship of the god Kāma, thinking Vatsa is the god in bodily presence, but is undeceived by the eulogy of the herald announcing the advent of evening. In Act II Sāgarikā is presented with her friend Susaṁgatā; she has depicted the prince on a canvas, and Susaṁgatā in raillery adds her beside him; she admits her love, but the confidence is broken by the alarm created by the escape of a monkey from the stables. In its mad rush it breaks the cage in Sāgarikā’s keeping, and the parrot escapes. The king and the Vidūṣaka enter the grove where the bird is, hear it repeat the maidens’ talk, and find the picture. The maidens returning for the picture overhear the confidences of the king and the Vidūṣaka, until Susaṁgatā sallies out and brings the lovers face to face. Their meeting is cut short by the advent of the queen, who sees the picture, realizes the position, and departs without manifesting the deep anger which she feels and which the king vainly seeks to assuage. In Act III the Vidūṣaka proves to have devised a scheme to secure a meeting of the lovers; Sāgarikā dressed as the queen and Susaṁgatā as her attendant are to meet Vatsa, but the plot is overheard, and it is Vāsavadattā herself who keeps the rendezvous; she listens to Vatsa’s declarations of love, and then bitterly reproaches him, rejecting his attempts to excuse himself. Sāgarikā, who had come on the scene too late, hears the king’s plight; weary, she ties a noose to her neck, when she is saved by the advent of the Vidūṣaka and the king, who naturally mistakes her for Vāsavadattā whom he fears his cruelty has driven to suicide. He joyously recognizes his error, but the queen, who, ashamed of her anger, has returned to make friends with her husband, finds the lovers united, and in violent anger carries off the maiden and the Vidūṣaka captive. But in Act IV we find the Vidūṣaka released and forgiven, but Sāgarikā in some prison, the king helpless to aid her. Good news, however, arrives; the general Rumaṇvant has won a victory over the Kosalas and slain the king. A magician enters and is allowed to display his art,[173]but the spectacle is interrupted by the advent of Vasubhūti and Bābhravya, who also have escaped the shipwreck. They tell their tale of disaster, when another interruption occurs; the harem is on fire; Vāsavadattā, shocked, reveals that Sāgarikā is there; Vatsa rushes to aid her, and emerges with her in chains, for the fire has been no more than a device of the magician. Bābhravya and Vasubhūti recognize in Sāgarikā the princess, and Yaugandharāyaṇa arrives to confess his management of the whole plot and the magician’s device. Vāsavadattā gladly gives the king to Ratnāvalī, since her husband will thus be lord of the earth, and Ratnāvalī is her full cousin.ThePriyadarçikā12introduces us in a speech by his chamberlain, Vinayavasu, to the king Dṛḍhavarman, whose daughter is destined for wedlock with Vatsa despite the demand for her hand made by the king of Kalin̄ga, who revenges himself during Vatsa’s imprisonment at the court of Pradyota by attacking and driving away Dṛḍhavarman. The maid is carried away by the chamberlain and is received and sheltered by Vindhyaketu, her father’s ally, but he offends Vatsa, is attacked and killed by his general Vijayasena, who brings back as part of the booty the unlucky Priyadarçikā; the king allots her to the harem as attendant on Vāsavadattā with the name Āraṇyikā (Āraṇyakā). In Act II we find the king, who has fallen in love with the maiden, seeking to distract himself with his Vidūṣaka. Āraṇyikā enters, to pluck lotuses, with her friend; she tells her love, which the king overhears; a bee attacks her when her friend leaves her, and in her confusion she runs into the arms of the king. Vatsa rescues her, but retires when her confidante returns. Act III tells that the aged confidante of the queen, Sāṁkṛtyāyanī, has composed a play on the marriage of Vatsa and Vāsavadattā which the queen is to see performed; the rôle of queen is to be played by Āraṇyikā, and Manoramā is to act the part of king, but she and the Vidūṣaka have arranged to let the king take the part. The performance causes anxiety to the queen, so ardent is the love-making, though Sāṁkṛtyāyanī reminds her it is but play-making; she leaves the hall, and finds the Vidūṣaka asleep; rudely wakened, he lets out the secret and the queen refuses to listen toVatsa’slame excuses. Act IV reveals Āraṇyikā in[174]prison, the king in despair, and the queen in sorrow, as she has learned from a letter from her mother that Dṛḍhavarman, her aunt’s husband, is in bondage, needing Vatsa’s aid. But Vijayasena brings news of the defeat of the Kalin̄ga king and the re-establishment of Dṛḍhavarman, and the chamberlain of the latter brings his thanks, his one sorrow being his daughter’s loss. Manoramā enters in terror; Āraṇyikā has poisoned herself, Vāsavadattā, filled with remorse, has her fetched, as Vatsa can cure her; the chamberlain recognizes his princess, Vatsa’s magic arts bring her back to consciousness, and Vāsavadattā recognizes in her her cousin, and grants her hand to the king.TheNāgānanda13performed at a festival of Indra, perhaps in the autumn, differs from these dramas in its form, for it is a Nāṭaka in five Acts, and in its inspiration; those are variants by Harṣa on the theme of Vatsa’s loves, this is the dramatization of a Buddhist legend, the self-sacrifice of Jīmūtavāhana, which was told in theBṛhatkathā, whence it appears in the later versions of that text14and in theVetālapañcaviṅçati.15Jīmūtavāhana is a prince of the Vidyādharas, whohas inducedhis father to resign his kingship, and give himself up to a life of calm; he has made the acquaintance of Mitrāvasu, the prince of the Siddhas, who has a sister. She has had a dream in which Gaurī has revealed to her her future husband, and Jīmūtavāhana hidden behind a thicket overhears her confiding this dream to her friend; the Vidūṣaka forces a meeting on the timid lovers, who shyly confess their affection, when an ascetic from the hermitage arrives to take the maiden away. In Act II Malayavatī is love-sick, resting on a stone seat in the garden; a sound makes her move away, when the king enters, equally oppressed, declares his love and paints his fancy. Mitrāvasu comes to offer him his sister’s hand; the king declines it, ignorant of whom he loves; she deems herself disdained and seeks to hang herself, but her friends rescue her and call for aid. Jīmūtavāhana appears, and proves that she is his love by showing the picture. The two exchange vows, and the marriage is concluded. In Act III, after a comic interlude, we find them walking in the park in happiness; Jīmūtavāhana is[175]apprised of the seizure of his kingdom, but accepts the news gladly. But the last two Acts change the topic. While strolling with Mitrāvasu one day, Jīmūtavāhana sees a heap of bones and learns that they are the bones of serpents daily offered to the divine bird Garuḍa; he resolves to save the lives of the serpents at the cost of his own, gets rid of Mitrāvasu, and goes to the place of offering. He hears the sobs of the mother of Çan̄khacūḍa, whose son is about to be offered, consoles her by offering himself in ransom, but is refused with admiration for his gallantry. But, when the two have entered the temple to pray before the offering, he gives himself to Garuḍa as substitute and is borne away. The last Act opens with the anxiety of the parents of Jīmūtavāhana, to whom and his wife is borne a jewel fallen from his crown; Çan̄khacūḍa, also, emerged from the temple, finds the sacrifice made and reveals to Garuḍa his crime. It is too late; the hero expires as his parents arrive. Garuḍa is ashamed, and Gaurī appears to cut the knot, revive the prince, and re-establish him in his realm, in order to keep faith with Malayavatī; by a shower of ambrosia the snakes slain by Garuḍa revive, and he promises to forego his cruel revenge.[Contents]4.Harṣa’s Art and StyleComparison with Kālidāsa is doubtless the cause why Harṣa has tended to receive less praise than is due to his dramas. The originality of his Nāṭikās is not perhaps great, but he has effectively devised the plot in both; the action moves smoothly and in either play there is ingenuity. The scene of the magician’s activity in theRatnāvalīis depicted with humour and vivacity; the parrot’s escape and its chatter are sketched with piquancy, and the exchange of costumes in theRatnāvalīis natural and effective. The double comedy in thePriyadarçikāis a happy thought, the intrigue in Act IV is neatly conducted, so as to show us Vāsavadattā in the light of an affectionate niece, and the scene with the bee is attractive. It is true that the plays are full of reminiscences of theMālavikāgnimitra, such as the escape in theRatnāvalīof the monkey, and the monkey that there frightens the little princess while Sāṁkṛtyāyanī is Kauçikī revived. But in this artificial comedy elegance is sought, not[176]originality,16and Harṣa is a clever borrower. The similarity of development of both plays is perhaps more to be condemned; they are too obviously variations of one theme.The dominant emotion in either is love of the type which appertains to a noble and gay (dhīralalita) hero, who is always courteous, whose loves, that is to say, mean very little to him, and who does not forget to assure the old love of his devotion while playing with the new. This is a different aspect of Vatsa’s character from that displayed by Bhāsa, and admittedly a much inferior one. Vāsavadattā suffers equal deterioration, for she is no longer the wife who sacrifices herself for her husband’s good; she is rather a jealous, though noble and kind-hearted woman, whose love for her husband makes her resent too deeply his inconstancy. The heroines areingénueswith nothing but good looks and willingness to be loved by the king, whom they know, though he does not, to be destined by their fathers as their husband. In neither case is any adequate reason17suggested for the failure to declare themselves in their true character, unless we are to assume that they would not, in the absence of sponsors, have been believed. Susaṁgatā, the friend of the heroine in theRatnāvalī, is a pleasant, merry girl who makes excellent fun of her mistress. The Vidūṣaka18in both plays is typical in his greediness, but his figure lacks comic force; he is, however, a pleasant enough character, for his love for his master is genuine; he is prepared to die with him in theRatnāvalī, though he thinks his action in rushing into the fire quixotic. The magician is an amusing and clever sketch of great pretensions allied to some juggling skill.TheNāgānandareveals Harṣa in a new light in the last two Acts. His liking for the marvellous is exhibited indeed in the last Acts of both the Nāṭikās in accord with the theory, but it has a far wider scope in theNāgānanda, where the supernatural freely appears, and, though the drama be Buddhist in inspiration, Gaurī is introduced to solve the difficulty of restoring[177]Jīmūtavāhana. Harṣa here rises to the task of depicting the emotions of self-sacrifice, charity, magnanimity, and resolution in the face of death; Jīmūtavāhana, however bizarre his setting, is one of the ideals of Buddhism, a man seized with the conviction that to sacrifice oneself for others is the highest duty. Çan̄khacūḍa and his mother too appear as noble in character, far superior to the savage Garuḍa. There is, it must be admitted, a decided lack of harmony between the two distinct parts of the drama, but the total effect is far from unsuccessful. Perhaps as a counterpoise to the seriousness of the last part, Harṣa has introduced effective comedy in Act III. The Vidūṣaka, Ātreya, is hideous and stupid; as he lies sleeping, covered by a mantle to protect him from the bees, the Viṭa, Çekharaka, sees him, mistakes him for his inamorata, embraces him and fondles him. Navamālikā enters, and, indignant, the Viṭa makes the Vidūṣaka, though a Brahmin, bow before her and drink alcohol. A little later Navamālikā makes fun of him before the newly married couple by painting his face with Tamūla juice.Harṣa is fond of descriptions in the approved manner; the evening, midday, the park, the hermitage, the gardens, the fountain, the marriage festival, the hour for the bath, the mountain Malaya, the forest, the palace, are among the ordinary themes beloved in the Kāvya. In imagination and grace he is certainly inferior to Kālidāsa, but he possesses the great merit of simplicity of expression and thought; his Sanskrit is classical, and precise; his use of figures of speech and thought restrained and in good taste. There is fire in his description of a battle:19astravyastaçirastraçastrakaṣaṇaiḥ kṛttottamān̄ge muhurvyūḍhāsṛksariti svanatpraharaṇair gharmodvamadvahniniāhūyājimukhe sa Kosalādhipatir bhagne pradhāne baleekenaiva Rumaṇvatā çaraçatair mattadvipastho hataḥ.‘Heads were cleft by the blows of swords on helmets sore smitten; blood flowed in torrents, fire flashed from the ringing strokes; when his main host had been broken, Rumaṇvant challenged in the forefront of the battle the lord of Kosala, who rode on a maddened elephant, and alone slew him with a hundred arrows.’ The matching of the sound to the sense[178]is admirable, while a delicate perception is evinced in the line describing the king’s success in soothing the wounded queen:20savyājaiḥ çapathaiḥ priyeṇa vacasā cittānuvṛttyādhikamvailakṣyeṇa pareṇa padapatanair vākyaiḥ sakhīnāṁ muhuḥpratyāsattim upāgatā na hi tathā devī rudatyā yathāprakṣālyeva tayaiva bāṣpasalilaiḥ kopo ’panītaḥ svayam.‘It was not so much by my false oaths of devotion, my loving words, my coaxing, my depths of dejection, and falling at her feet, or the advice of her friends, that the queen was appeased as that her anger was wiped away by the cleansing water of her own bitter tears.’ Pretty, if not appropriate, is the king’s address to the fire:21virama virama vahne muñca dhūmānubandham: prakaṭayasi kim uccair arciṣāṁ cakravālam?virahahutabhujāhaṁ yo na dagdhaḥ priyāyāḥ: pralayadahanabhāsā tasya kiṁ tvaṁ karoṣi?‘Stay, stay, fire; cease thy constant smoke; why dost thou raise aloft thy circle of flames? What canst thou avail against me, whom the fire of severance from my beloved, fierce as the flame that shall consume the universe, could not consume?’ There is excellent taste and propriety in Vatsa’s address to the dead Kosala king:22mṛtyur api te çlāghyo yasya çatravo ’py evaṁ puruṣakāraṁ varṇayanti.‘Even death for thee is glorious when even thy foes must thus depict thy manly prowess.’ Such a phrase may reveal to us the true Harṣa himself, the winner of many victories, and the hero of one great disaster.TheNāgānandastrikes varied notes; there is fire and enthusiasm in the assurances which Mitrāvasu gives the prince of the swift overthrow of his enemy, Matan̄ga, at the hands of his faithful Siddhas, will he but give the word:23saṁsarpadbhiḥ samantāt kṛtasakalaviyanmārgayānair vimānaiḥkurvāṇāḥ prāvṛṣīva sthagitaravirucaḥ çyāmatāṁ vāsarasyaete yātāç ca sadyas tava vacanam itaḥ prāpya yuddhāya siddhāḥsiddhaṁ codvṛttaçatrukṣayabhayavinamadrājakaṁ te svarājyam.‘With their chariots, meeting together and o’erspreading the whole surface of the sky as they speed along, darkening the day[179]as when the sun’s rays are hidden in the rain, my Siddhas await but the bidding to fare forthwith hence to the battle; but say the word and thy haughty foe shall fall, and thy kingdom be restored to thee, while the princes bow before thee in fear of his fate.’Jīmūtavāhana, however, has other views of his duty:24svaçarīram api parārthe yaḥ khalu dadyām ayācitaḥ kṛpayārājyasya kṛte sa katham prāṇivadhakrauryam anumanye?‘Gladly, unasked, would I give my own life for another in compassion; how then could I consent to the cruel slaughter of men merely to win a realm?’ The saying is essential to the drama, for it leads immediately to the determination of the prince to sacrifice himself for the Nāga.There is dignity and force in the admonition addressed by the dying hero to the repentant Garuḍa who begs him to command him:25nityam prāṇātipātāt prativirama kuru prākkṛte cānutāpamyatnāt puṇyapravāhaṁ samupacinu diçan sarvasattveṣv abhītimmagnaṁ yenātra nainaḥ phalati parimitaprāṇihiṅsāttam etaddurgāḍhāpāravārer lavaṇapalam iva kṣiptam antar hradasya.‘Cease for ever from taking life; repent of thy past misdeeds; eagerly accumulate a store of merit, freeing all creatures from fear of thee, so that, lost in the infinite stream of thy goodness, the sin of slaying creatures, in number limited, may cease to fructify, even as a morsel of salt cast in the unfathomable depths of a great lake.’Though Buddhist the drama, the benediction is enough to show how effectively the spirit of the Nāṭikā has been introduced into the legend:26dhyānavyājam upetya cintayasi kām unmīlya cakṣuḥ kṣaṇam?paçyānan̄gaçarāturaṁ janam imaṁ trātāpi no rakṣasimithyākāruṇiko ’si nirghṛṇataras tvattaḥ kuto ’nyaḥ pumān?serṣyam Māravadhūbhir ity abhihito Buddho27jinaḥ pātu vaḥ.‘ “Feigned is thy trance; of what fair one dost thou think? Open thine eyes for a moment and gaze on us whom love doth[180]drive mad. Protector art thou; save thou us. False is thy compassion; could there be any man more pitiless than thou?” May he, whom Māra’s beauties thus addressed, the Buddha, the conqueror, protect you.’But Harṣa’s chief merit is undoubtedly shown in erotic verses as in the description of the shyness of the new-made bride in theNāgānanda:28dṛṣṭā dṛṣṭim adho dadhāti kurute nālāpam ābhāṣitāçayyāyām parivṛtya tiṣṭhati balād ālin̄gitā vepateniryāntīṣu sakhīṣu vāsabhavanān nirgantum evehatejātā vāmatayaiva me ’dya sutarām prītyai navoḍhā priyā.‘Looked at, she casts down her face; addressed, she gives no reply; with head averted she lies on the couch; forcibly embraced, she trembles; when her maidens leave her chamber, she seeks also to depart; perverse though she be, my new-wed love delights me more and more.’ The accuracy of the aim of love as an archer is described in theRatnāvalī:29manaḥ prakṛtyaiva calaṁ durlakṣyaṁ ca tathāpi meanan̄gena kathaṁ viddhaṁ samaṁ sarvaçilīmukhāiḥ.‘Mind is naturally mobile and hard to find; nevertheless mine has been pierced by love at once with all his darts.’ In entire harmony with Indian taste Harṣa dwells on the points of physical perfection in the adored one in theNāgānanda:30khedāya stanabhāra eṣa kim u te madhyasya hāro ’parastāmyaty ūruyugaṁ nitambabharataḥ kāñcyānayā kim punaḥçaktiḥ padayugasya noruyugalaṁ voḍhuṁ kuto nūpurausvān̄gair eva vibhūṣitāsi vahasi kleçāya kiṁ maṇḍanam?‘The burden of thy bosom serves to weary thy waist; why then add the weight of thy necklace? Thy thighs are wearied by the bearing of thy hips; why then thy girdle of bells? Thy feet can barely carry the load of thy thighs; why add thine anklets? When in every limb thou dost possess such grace, why dost thou wear ornaments to thy weariness?’ Harṣa is also capable of expressing a deeper side of love, as when the king in theRatnāvalī31fancies that Vāsavadattā has been driven to suicide by his faithlessness:[181]samārūḍhaprītiḥ praṇayabahumānād anudinamvyalīkaṁ vīkṣyedaṁ kṛtam akṛtapūrvaṁ khalu mayāpriyā muñcaty adya sphuṭam asahanā jīvitam asauprakṛṣṭasya premṇaḥ skhalitam aviṣahyaṁ hi bhavati.‘My beloved, whose love for me waxed daily because of my affection and respect, has seen my falsity which she has never known before, and now assuredly she seeks to lay life aside in despair; for unendurable is a wrong against a noble love.’[Contents]5.The Language and the Metres of Harṣa’s DramasHarṣa’s Sanskrit is of the usual classical type, eschewing any deviation from the beaten paths, and his Prākrits, mainly Çaurasenī with Māhārāṣṭrī in the verses, offer nothing of special interest, beyond evidence of his careful study of Prākrit grammar.32His use of metrical forms, on the other hand, marks the tendency to reject the simplicity of the earlier dramatists, and to insist on the use of the more elaborate metres, which in themselves are wholly undramatic, but give a much wider range of opportunity for the exhibition of merits of description. Harṣa’s favourite is the Çārdūlavikrīḍita, which occurs 23 times in theRatnāvalī, 20 times in thePriyadarçikā, and 30 times in theNāgānanda; the Sragdharā takes second place with 11, 8, and 17 occurrences. The Çloka occurs in theRatnāvalī(9)and the Nāgānanda (24), the frequency in the latter being due to the more epic character of the piece; its absence from thePriyadarçikāis marked. The Āryā occurs 9 times each in the Nāṭikās, and 16 times in theNāgānanda. ThePriyadarçikāsuggests by its content immaturity, and its poverty in metres supports this view; it has but seven in all, including Indravajrā, Vasantatilaka (6), Mālinī, and Çikhariṇī. TheNāgānandahas also Çālinī and Hariṇī, in common with theRatnāvalī, and Drutavilambita, while theRatnāvalīadds Puṣpitāgrā, Pṛthvī, and Praharṣiṇī. That play has 5 Prākrit Āryās and 1 Gīti, the other two 3 Āryās apiece, while theRatnāvalīcontains a pretty pair of rhymed verses, each with Pādas of 12 morae.[182][Contents]6.MahendravikramavarmanAlmost a contemporary to a day of Harṣa was Mahendravikramavarman, son of the Pallava king Siṅhaviṣṇuvarman, and himself a king with the styles of Avanibhājana, Guṇabhara, and Mattavilāsa, all alluded to in his play,33who ruled in Kāñcī, the scene of his drama, in the first quarter of the seventh centuryA.D.34Chance rather than any special merit has preserved for us his Prahasana,35which is so far the only early farce published, and which has special interest as it comes from the south, and, as we have seen, shows signs of the same technique as that of Bhāsa. Thus the play is opened by the director at the close of the Nāndī, which is not preserved, and the prologue is styled Sthāpanā, and not, as usual, Prastāvanā. We have also a reference to Karpaṭa as the writer of a text-book for thieves, as in theCārudattaof Bhāsa, but there is an essential difference in the fact that great care is taken in the prologue to set out at length the merits of the author as well as the name of the drama.The director introduces the play by a dialogue in which he by skilled flattery induces his first wife to aid him in the work, despite her annoyance at his taking to himself of a younger bride, and the transition to the actual drama is accomplished as in Bhāsa by his being interrupted in the midst of a verse by a cry from behind the scene, which leads him to complete his stanza by mentioning the appearance of the chief actor and his companion. They are a Çaiva mendicant of the skull-bearing order, a Kapālin, and his damsel, Devasomā by name. Both are intoxicated, and the maiden asks for her companion’s aid to prevent her from falling; he would hold her if he could, but his own condition hinders aid; in remorse he proposes to forswear strong drink, but the lady entreats him not for her sake thus to break[183]his penance, and he joyfully abandons the rash project, praising instead his rule of life:36peyā surā priyatamāmukham īkṣitavyam: grāhyaḥ svabhāvalalito ’vikṛtaç ca veṣaḥyenedam īdṛçam adṛçyata mokṣavartma: dīrghayur astu bhagavān sa pinākapaṇiḥ.‘Long live the god who bears the trident and who has revealed to men this as the way of salvation, to drink brandy, to gaze on the face of one’s beloved, to wear beautiful and becoming raiment.’ He is reminded by his companions that the Arhants have a very different definition of the path of salvation, but he has little trouble in disposing of them:kāryasya niḥsaṁçayam ātmahetoḥ: sarūpatāṁ hetubhir abhyupetyaduḥkhasya kāryaṁ sukham āmanantaḥ: svenaiva vākyena hatā varākāḥ.‘They establish that an effect, as self-caused, is of the same nature as its causes; when, therefore, they declare that pleasure is the effect of pain, the poor fools contradict their own dogmas.’ There follows a complimentary description of Kāñcī, and a careful parallel between the tavern where the pair are seeking more charity and a scene of sacrifice; the Kapālin also discovers that Surā has a celestial origin; it is none other than the form taken by the god of love when burnt by the flame from Çiva’s eye, a conclusion heartily accepted by his friend. The two are successful in attaining alms, but the tragic discovery is made that the skull, which serves as begging bowl, and which seems indeed at first to be theraison d’êtreof the Kapālin, is lost, though he consoles himself by reflecting that it was only a sign and that his occupation is still intact. A search through Kāñcī follows, and suspicion falls on a Buddhist monk, Çākyabhikṣu, who is lamenting the fact that despite the excellent fare he has received the law forbids the enjoyment of strong drink and women; he concludes that the true gospel of the Buddha contained no such ridiculous restrictions, and expresses his desire to benefit the whole community by discovering the authentic text.[184]Naturally, when challenged, he denies that his begging bowl is that of the Kapālin, and blesses the master for his good sense in insisting on shaving the head, since it prevents the damsel from succeeding in her well-meant effort to aid her companion by pulling his hair. His arguments as to the identity of his bowl are unconvincing to the Kapālin:dṛṣṭāni vastūni mahīsamudra—: mahīdharādīni mahānti mohātapahnuvānasya sutaḥ kathaṁ tvam: alpaṁ na nihnotum alaṁ kapālam?‘Thou art the son of one who denies in his folly things that we see, the earth, the ocean, mountains and so forth; how then art thou not ready to deny so small a thing as a bowl?’ Moreover, when the Buddhist, politely and with commendable charity, picks up Devasomā when her fruitless assault on his locks lands her on the ground, he accuses him of taking her in marriage and invokes punishment on this violator of the rights of Brahmins. A Pāçupata, a more respectable type of Çaiva sectarian, comes on the scene and is appealed to as an arbitrator, but finds the task too difficult; both claimants proudly assert their adherence to a creed which forbids lying, and the Buddhist recites in addition the whole list of moral rules which makes up the Çikṣāpada. The obvious arguments from colour and shape in favour of the Buddhist are made out by his rival to be no more than signs of his skill in changing objects at pleasure. Finally the Pāçupata suggests that they must take the matter before a court.En route, however, a diversion is made by an Unmattaka, or madman, who has rescued the skull from a dog, the real thief; he first appears willing to give it as a present to the Pāçupata, who haughtily rejects the horrible object, but suggests the Kapālin as the recipient; then he changes his mind, but, annoyed by the cry of ‘mad’, asks the Kapālin to hold the skull and to show him the madman; the Kapālin, nothing loth, accepts the skull, and misdirects the madman. All are now happy; the Kapālin makes a handsome apology to the Buddhist monk, and the usual Bharatavākya with a reference to the ruling king, the author, concludes the work.The author undoubtedly shows a considerable knowledge of the tenets of the Buddhists, and the play is not unamusing,[185]though the subject is much too trivial for the pains taken to deal with it. The style is certainly appropriate to the subject-matter; it is like that of Harṣa, simple and elegant, while many of the verses are not without force and beauty. In the prose speeches of the Kapālin, however, we have occasional premonitions37of the unwieldy compounds of Bhavabhūti. There is, as in all the later Prahasanas, a certain incongruity between the triviality of the subject-matter and the elaboration of the form but the king has the merit of avoiding the gross vulgarity which marks normally the later works of this type.Short as is the play, it shows a variety of Prākrits, for of thedramatis personaeonly the Kapālin and the Pāçupata speak Sanskrit, while the madman, the Buddhist, and Devasomā talk in Prākrit. That of the Buddhist and of Devasomā is practically Çaurasenī, but the madman uses Māgadhī.38The Prākrits show some of the signs of antiquity which have been seen in Bhāsa’s dramas; thus forms of the plural ināṇiandññin lieu ofṇṇare found, doubtless as a result of the influence of Bhāsa. The frequency of such forms asaho nu khaluandkiṁ nu khaluis precisely in the manner of Bhāsa, and mention may be made of the employment ofmāwith the infinitive in Prākrit in a prohibition.The variety of metres is large in view of the brief extent of the play. There are nine different stanzas employed; five each of the Çloka and Çārdūlavikrīḍita, three each of Indravajrā type and Āryā, two each of Vaṅçasthā type and Vasantatilaka, the solitary Prākrit verse being of the former kind, and one each of Rucirā, Mālinī, and Sragdharā.39[186]

[Contents]1.Candra or CandrakaSome mystery exists as to the identity and character of Candra as a dramatist.1We have in a Tibetan version aLokānanda, a Buddhist drama telling of a certain Maṇicūḍa, who handed over his wife and children to a Brahmin as a sign of supreme generosity, which is ascribed to Candragomin, the grammarian, in whoseÇiṣyalekhāis found a verse ascribed to Candragopin in theSubhāṣitāvali. If this is the dramatist Candaka or Candraka, who is placed by Kalhaṇa under Tuñjina of Kashmir, and who rivalled the author of theMahābhāratain a drama, is wholly uncertain. The grammarian must have lived beforeA.D.650, as he is cited in theKāçikā Vṛttithough not by name; a more precise date it is impossible to give, for his reference to a victory of a Jarta over the Hūṇas cannot be made precise until we know what Jāṭ prince is referred to, though Yaçodharman has been suggested. The identification by Lévi of Candra with a person of that name mentioned by I-Tsing as living in his time is seemingly impossible, though I-Tsing ascribes to him the verse found in theÇiṣyalekhāmentioned above; the verse is lacking in the Tibetan version and I-Tsing may have made a slip. His contemporary seems to have been a Candradāsa, and to have dramatized the Viçvantara legend.To Candaka is ascribed in theSubhāṣitāvali2a fine verse of martial tone:eṣā hi raṇagatasya dṛḍhā pratijñā: drakṣyanti yan na ripavo jaghanaṁ hayānāmyuddheṣu bhāgyacapaleṣu na me pratijñā: daivaṁ yad icchati jayaṁ ca parājayaṁ ca.[169]‘I go to battle, and I swear that my foes shall never see the backs of my steeds; for the rest, fate directs the destiny of the wavering fight; I promise nothing, but shall take defeat or victory as it pleases destiny.’ A verse of love is:3prasāde vartasva prakaṭaya mudaṁ saṁtyaja ruṣampriye çuṣyanty an̄gāny amṛtam iva te siñcatu vacaḥnidhānaṁ saukhyānāṁ kṣaṇam abhimukhaṁ sthāpaya mukhamna mugdhe pratyetum bhavati gataḥ kālahariṇaḥ.‘Be gentle; show a little joy; lay aside thy anger; beloved, my limbs are dried up, let thy speech pour ambrosia upon them. Turn to me for a moment thy face, the abode of happiness; foolish one, time is an antelope which, gone, cannot be recalled.’ The other citations we have show skill both in tragic and erotic sentiment.Candraka was evidently admired by the authorities on poetics; we find in the commentary on theDaçarūpa4a verse, elsewhere ascribed to him, cited as an example where diverse sentiments blend but where one, that of coming parting of lovers, is predominant:ekenākṣṇā paritataruṣā vīkṣate vyomasaṁsthambhānor bimbaṁ sajalalulitenāpareṇātmakāntamahnaç chede dayitavirahāçan̄kinī cakravākīdvau saṁkīrṇau racayati rasau nartakīva pragalbhā.‘With one angry eye she gazes on the orb of the sun as it tarries on the horizon; with the other, dimmed by her tears, she looks on her soul’s beloved; thus the mate of the Cakravāka, feeling the approach at nightfall of separation from her dear one, expresses two emotions, even as a clever actress.’Curiously enough we have no less than four stanzas of benediction ascribed to him, which illustrate a formal feature of the Sanskrit drama, the introduction of each play with one or more stanzas involving divine favour. The verses are interesting, not so much for the intrinsic merits of their poetry, which frankly are not great, but because of the curious manner in which Indian poetry treats its deities; the greatest of gods nevertheless in his sportive moods is yet made the prototype of the human lover:5[170]cyutām indor lekhāṁ ratikalahabhagnaṁ ca valayamçanair ekīkṛtya hasitamukhī çailatanayāavocad yam paçyety avatu sa çivaḥ sā ca girijāsa ca krīḍācandro daçanakiraṇapūritatanuḥ.‘Smiling, the daughter of the mountain wrought into one a digit fallen from the moon and a bracelet broken in a love quarrel, and said to her lord, “Behold my work”. May he, Çiva, protect you, and the lady of the mountain, and that moon of dalliance all covered with bites and rays.’mātar jīva kim etad añjalipuṭe tātena gopāyyatevatsa svādu phalam prayacchati na me gatvā gṛhāṇa svayammātraivam prahite guhe vighaṭayaty ākṛṣya saṁdhyāñjalimçambhor bhinnasamādhir uddharabhaso hāsodgāmaḥ pātu vaḥ.‘O mother.—My life.—What is it that my father guards so carefully in the palm of his hand?—Dear one, it is a sweet fruit.—He will not give me it.—Go thyself and take it.—Thus urged by his mother, Guha seizes the closed hands of his sire as he adores the Twilight and drags them apart; Çiva, angry at the interruption of his devotion, stays his wrath at sight of his son and laughs: may that laughter protect you.’6

1.Candra or Candraka

Some mystery exists as to the identity and character of Candra as a dramatist.1We have in a Tibetan version aLokānanda, a Buddhist drama telling of a certain Maṇicūḍa, who handed over his wife and children to a Brahmin as a sign of supreme generosity, which is ascribed to Candragomin, the grammarian, in whoseÇiṣyalekhāis found a verse ascribed to Candragopin in theSubhāṣitāvali. If this is the dramatist Candaka or Candraka, who is placed by Kalhaṇa under Tuñjina of Kashmir, and who rivalled the author of theMahābhāratain a drama, is wholly uncertain. The grammarian must have lived beforeA.D.650, as he is cited in theKāçikā Vṛttithough not by name; a more precise date it is impossible to give, for his reference to a victory of a Jarta over the Hūṇas cannot be made precise until we know what Jāṭ prince is referred to, though Yaçodharman has been suggested. The identification by Lévi of Candra with a person of that name mentioned by I-Tsing as living in his time is seemingly impossible, though I-Tsing ascribes to him the verse found in theÇiṣyalekhāmentioned above; the verse is lacking in the Tibetan version and I-Tsing may have made a slip. His contemporary seems to have been a Candradāsa, and to have dramatized the Viçvantara legend.To Candaka is ascribed in theSubhāṣitāvali2a fine verse of martial tone:eṣā hi raṇagatasya dṛḍhā pratijñā: drakṣyanti yan na ripavo jaghanaṁ hayānāmyuddheṣu bhāgyacapaleṣu na me pratijñā: daivaṁ yad icchati jayaṁ ca parājayaṁ ca.[169]‘I go to battle, and I swear that my foes shall never see the backs of my steeds; for the rest, fate directs the destiny of the wavering fight; I promise nothing, but shall take defeat or victory as it pleases destiny.’ A verse of love is:3prasāde vartasva prakaṭaya mudaṁ saṁtyaja ruṣampriye çuṣyanty an̄gāny amṛtam iva te siñcatu vacaḥnidhānaṁ saukhyānāṁ kṣaṇam abhimukhaṁ sthāpaya mukhamna mugdhe pratyetum bhavati gataḥ kālahariṇaḥ.‘Be gentle; show a little joy; lay aside thy anger; beloved, my limbs are dried up, let thy speech pour ambrosia upon them. Turn to me for a moment thy face, the abode of happiness; foolish one, time is an antelope which, gone, cannot be recalled.’ The other citations we have show skill both in tragic and erotic sentiment.Candraka was evidently admired by the authorities on poetics; we find in the commentary on theDaçarūpa4a verse, elsewhere ascribed to him, cited as an example where diverse sentiments blend but where one, that of coming parting of lovers, is predominant:ekenākṣṇā paritataruṣā vīkṣate vyomasaṁsthambhānor bimbaṁ sajalalulitenāpareṇātmakāntamahnaç chede dayitavirahāçan̄kinī cakravākīdvau saṁkīrṇau racayati rasau nartakīva pragalbhā.‘With one angry eye she gazes on the orb of the sun as it tarries on the horizon; with the other, dimmed by her tears, she looks on her soul’s beloved; thus the mate of the Cakravāka, feeling the approach at nightfall of separation from her dear one, expresses two emotions, even as a clever actress.’Curiously enough we have no less than four stanzas of benediction ascribed to him, which illustrate a formal feature of the Sanskrit drama, the introduction of each play with one or more stanzas involving divine favour. The verses are interesting, not so much for the intrinsic merits of their poetry, which frankly are not great, but because of the curious manner in which Indian poetry treats its deities; the greatest of gods nevertheless in his sportive moods is yet made the prototype of the human lover:5[170]cyutām indor lekhāṁ ratikalahabhagnaṁ ca valayamçanair ekīkṛtya hasitamukhī çailatanayāavocad yam paçyety avatu sa çivaḥ sā ca girijāsa ca krīḍācandro daçanakiraṇapūritatanuḥ.‘Smiling, the daughter of the mountain wrought into one a digit fallen from the moon and a bracelet broken in a love quarrel, and said to her lord, “Behold my work”. May he, Çiva, protect you, and the lady of the mountain, and that moon of dalliance all covered with bites and rays.’mātar jīva kim etad añjalipuṭe tātena gopāyyatevatsa svādu phalam prayacchati na me gatvā gṛhāṇa svayammātraivam prahite guhe vighaṭayaty ākṛṣya saṁdhyāñjalimçambhor bhinnasamādhir uddharabhaso hāsodgāmaḥ pātu vaḥ.‘O mother.—My life.—What is it that my father guards so carefully in the palm of his hand?—Dear one, it is a sweet fruit.—He will not give me it.—Go thyself and take it.—Thus urged by his mother, Guha seizes the closed hands of his sire as he adores the Twilight and drags them apart; Çiva, angry at the interruption of his devotion, stays his wrath at sight of his son and laughs: may that laughter protect you.’6

Some mystery exists as to the identity and character of Candra as a dramatist.1We have in a Tibetan version aLokānanda, a Buddhist drama telling of a certain Maṇicūḍa, who handed over his wife and children to a Brahmin as a sign of supreme generosity, which is ascribed to Candragomin, the grammarian, in whoseÇiṣyalekhāis found a verse ascribed to Candragopin in theSubhāṣitāvali. If this is the dramatist Candaka or Candraka, who is placed by Kalhaṇa under Tuñjina of Kashmir, and who rivalled the author of theMahābhāratain a drama, is wholly uncertain. The grammarian must have lived beforeA.D.650, as he is cited in theKāçikā Vṛttithough not by name; a more precise date it is impossible to give, for his reference to a victory of a Jarta over the Hūṇas cannot be made precise until we know what Jāṭ prince is referred to, though Yaçodharman has been suggested. The identification by Lévi of Candra with a person of that name mentioned by I-Tsing as living in his time is seemingly impossible, though I-Tsing ascribes to him the verse found in theÇiṣyalekhāmentioned above; the verse is lacking in the Tibetan version and I-Tsing may have made a slip. His contemporary seems to have been a Candradāsa, and to have dramatized the Viçvantara legend.

To Candaka is ascribed in theSubhāṣitāvali2a fine verse of martial tone:

eṣā hi raṇagatasya dṛḍhā pratijñā: drakṣyanti yan na ripavo jaghanaṁ hayānāmyuddheṣu bhāgyacapaleṣu na me pratijñā: daivaṁ yad icchati jayaṁ ca parājayaṁ ca.

eṣā hi raṇagatasya dṛḍhā pratijñā: drakṣyanti yan na ripavo jaghanaṁ hayānām

yuddheṣu bhāgyacapaleṣu na me pratijñā: daivaṁ yad icchati jayaṁ ca parājayaṁ ca.

[169]

‘I go to battle, and I swear that my foes shall never see the backs of my steeds; for the rest, fate directs the destiny of the wavering fight; I promise nothing, but shall take defeat or victory as it pleases destiny.’ A verse of love is:3

prasāde vartasva prakaṭaya mudaṁ saṁtyaja ruṣampriye çuṣyanty an̄gāny amṛtam iva te siñcatu vacaḥnidhānaṁ saukhyānāṁ kṣaṇam abhimukhaṁ sthāpaya mukhamna mugdhe pratyetum bhavati gataḥ kālahariṇaḥ.

prasāde vartasva prakaṭaya mudaṁ saṁtyaja ruṣam

priye çuṣyanty an̄gāny amṛtam iva te siñcatu vacaḥ

nidhānaṁ saukhyānāṁ kṣaṇam abhimukhaṁ sthāpaya mukham

na mugdhe pratyetum bhavati gataḥ kālahariṇaḥ.

‘Be gentle; show a little joy; lay aside thy anger; beloved, my limbs are dried up, let thy speech pour ambrosia upon them. Turn to me for a moment thy face, the abode of happiness; foolish one, time is an antelope which, gone, cannot be recalled.’ The other citations we have show skill both in tragic and erotic sentiment.

Candraka was evidently admired by the authorities on poetics; we find in the commentary on theDaçarūpa4a verse, elsewhere ascribed to him, cited as an example where diverse sentiments blend but where one, that of coming parting of lovers, is predominant:

ekenākṣṇā paritataruṣā vīkṣate vyomasaṁsthambhānor bimbaṁ sajalalulitenāpareṇātmakāntamahnaç chede dayitavirahāçan̄kinī cakravākīdvau saṁkīrṇau racayati rasau nartakīva pragalbhā.

ekenākṣṇā paritataruṣā vīkṣate vyomasaṁstham

bhānor bimbaṁ sajalalulitenāpareṇātmakāntam

ahnaç chede dayitavirahāçan̄kinī cakravākī

dvau saṁkīrṇau racayati rasau nartakīva pragalbhā.

‘With one angry eye she gazes on the orb of the sun as it tarries on the horizon; with the other, dimmed by her tears, she looks on her soul’s beloved; thus the mate of the Cakravāka, feeling the approach at nightfall of separation from her dear one, expresses two emotions, even as a clever actress.’

Curiously enough we have no less than four stanzas of benediction ascribed to him, which illustrate a formal feature of the Sanskrit drama, the introduction of each play with one or more stanzas involving divine favour. The verses are interesting, not so much for the intrinsic merits of their poetry, which frankly are not great, but because of the curious manner in which Indian poetry treats its deities; the greatest of gods nevertheless in his sportive moods is yet made the prototype of the human lover:5[170]

cyutām indor lekhāṁ ratikalahabhagnaṁ ca valayamçanair ekīkṛtya hasitamukhī çailatanayāavocad yam paçyety avatu sa çivaḥ sā ca girijāsa ca krīḍācandro daçanakiraṇapūritatanuḥ.

cyutām indor lekhāṁ ratikalahabhagnaṁ ca valayam

çanair ekīkṛtya hasitamukhī çailatanayā

avocad yam paçyety avatu sa çivaḥ sā ca girijā

sa ca krīḍācandro daçanakiraṇapūritatanuḥ.

‘Smiling, the daughter of the mountain wrought into one a digit fallen from the moon and a bracelet broken in a love quarrel, and said to her lord, “Behold my work”. May he, Çiva, protect you, and the lady of the mountain, and that moon of dalliance all covered with bites and rays.’

mātar jīva kim etad añjalipuṭe tātena gopāyyatevatsa svādu phalam prayacchati na me gatvā gṛhāṇa svayammātraivam prahite guhe vighaṭayaty ākṛṣya saṁdhyāñjalimçambhor bhinnasamādhir uddharabhaso hāsodgāmaḥ pātu vaḥ.

mātar jīva kim etad añjalipuṭe tātena gopāyyate

vatsa svādu phalam prayacchati na me gatvā gṛhāṇa svayam

mātraivam prahite guhe vighaṭayaty ākṛṣya saṁdhyāñjalim

çambhor bhinnasamādhir uddharabhaso hāsodgāmaḥ pātu vaḥ.

‘O mother.—My life.—What is it that my father guards so carefully in the palm of his hand?—Dear one, it is a sweet fruit.—He will not give me it.—Go thyself and take it.—Thus urged by his mother, Guha seizes the closed hands of his sire as he adores the Twilight and drags them apart; Çiva, angry at the interruption of his devotion, stays his wrath at sight of his son and laughs: may that laughter protect you.’6

[Contents]2.The Authorship of the Dramas ascribed to HarṣaThree dramas, as well as some minor poetry, have come down to us under the name of Harṣa, unquestionably the king of Sthāṇvīçvara and Kanyakubja, who reigned from aboutA.D.606 to 648,7the patron of Bāṇa who celebrates him in theHarṣacaritaand of the Chinese pilgrim Hiuan-Tsang who is our most valuable source of information on his reign. That the three plays are by one and the same hand is made certain in part by the common ascription in a verse in the prologue mentioning Harṣa as an accomplished poet, partly by the recurrence of two verses in thePriyadarçikāand theNāgānandaand of one in the former play and theRatnāvalī, and above all by the absolute similarity of style and tone in the three works, which renders any effort to[171]dissociate them wholly impossible. The question of their actual authorship was raised in antiquity; for, while Mammaṭa in hisKāvyaprakāça8merely refers to the gift of gold to Bāṇa—or Dhāvaka in some manuscripts—by Harṣa, the commentators explain this of theRatnāvalī, which was passed off in Harṣa’s name. This is, however, not in any way borne out by early tradition; I-Tsing9clearly refers to the dramatization of the subject of theNāgānandaby Harṣa and its performance, and in theKuṭṭanīmata10of Dāmodaragupta, who lived under Jayāpīḍa of Kashmir (A.D.779–813), a performance of theRatnāvalī, ascribed to a king, is mentioned. The ascription to Bāṇa has nothing even plausible in it, so disparate are the styles of the dramas and theHarṣacarita, and we have the option of believing that Harṣa wrote them himself with such aid as his Paṇḍits might give, or of accepting them as the work of some unknown dramatist, who allowed the king to claim the credit for them.

2.The Authorship of the Dramas ascribed to Harṣa

Three dramas, as well as some minor poetry, have come down to us under the name of Harṣa, unquestionably the king of Sthāṇvīçvara and Kanyakubja, who reigned from aboutA.D.606 to 648,7the patron of Bāṇa who celebrates him in theHarṣacaritaand of the Chinese pilgrim Hiuan-Tsang who is our most valuable source of information on his reign. That the three plays are by one and the same hand is made certain in part by the common ascription in a verse in the prologue mentioning Harṣa as an accomplished poet, partly by the recurrence of two verses in thePriyadarçikāand theNāgānandaand of one in the former play and theRatnāvalī, and above all by the absolute similarity of style and tone in the three works, which renders any effort to[171]dissociate them wholly impossible. The question of their actual authorship was raised in antiquity; for, while Mammaṭa in hisKāvyaprakāça8merely refers to the gift of gold to Bāṇa—or Dhāvaka in some manuscripts—by Harṣa, the commentators explain this of theRatnāvalī, which was passed off in Harṣa’s name. This is, however, not in any way borne out by early tradition; I-Tsing9clearly refers to the dramatization of the subject of theNāgānandaby Harṣa and its performance, and in theKuṭṭanīmata10of Dāmodaragupta, who lived under Jayāpīḍa of Kashmir (A.D.779–813), a performance of theRatnāvalī, ascribed to a king, is mentioned. The ascription to Bāṇa has nothing even plausible in it, so disparate are the styles of the dramas and theHarṣacarita, and we have the option of believing that Harṣa wrote them himself with such aid as his Paṇḍits might give, or of accepting them as the work of some unknown dramatist, who allowed the king to claim the credit for them.

Three dramas, as well as some minor poetry, have come down to us under the name of Harṣa, unquestionably the king of Sthāṇvīçvara and Kanyakubja, who reigned from aboutA.D.606 to 648,7the patron of Bāṇa who celebrates him in theHarṣacaritaand of the Chinese pilgrim Hiuan-Tsang who is our most valuable source of information on his reign. That the three plays are by one and the same hand is made certain in part by the common ascription in a verse in the prologue mentioning Harṣa as an accomplished poet, partly by the recurrence of two verses in thePriyadarçikāand theNāgānandaand of one in the former play and theRatnāvalī, and above all by the absolute similarity of style and tone in the three works, which renders any effort to[171]dissociate them wholly impossible. The question of their actual authorship was raised in antiquity; for, while Mammaṭa in hisKāvyaprakāça8merely refers to the gift of gold to Bāṇa—or Dhāvaka in some manuscripts—by Harṣa, the commentators explain this of theRatnāvalī, which was passed off in Harṣa’s name. This is, however, not in any way borne out by early tradition; I-Tsing9clearly refers to the dramatization of the subject of theNāgānandaby Harṣa and its performance, and in theKuṭṭanīmata10of Dāmodaragupta, who lived under Jayāpīḍa of Kashmir (A.D.779–813), a performance of theRatnāvalī, ascribed to a king, is mentioned. The ascription to Bāṇa has nothing even plausible in it, so disparate are the styles of the dramas and theHarṣacarita, and we have the option of believing that Harṣa wrote them himself with such aid as his Paṇḍits might give, or of accepting them as the work of some unknown dramatist, who allowed the king to claim the credit for them.

[Contents]3.The Three DramasTheRatnāvalīand thePriyadarçikāare closely connected both in subject-matter and form; they are Nāṭikās, each in four Acts; their common hero is Udayana, whom Bhāsa already celebrated, and the common theme one of his numerous amourettes. TheRatnāvalī,11in special, has found favour in the text-books of the drama, and has served to illustrate the technical rules.The ubiquitous Yaugandharāyaṇa, insatiable in seeking his master’s welfare, has planned marriage for him with the daughter of the king of Ceylon, but to attain this end has been difficult; to avoid vexing the queen Vāsavadattā, he has kept her in the dark, and has spread a rumour which he has had conveyed by Bābhravya, the king’s chamberlain, of the death of Vāsavadattā in a fire at Lāvāṇaka. The king of Ceylon then yields the hand of his daughter, and dispatches her in the care of the chamberlain and his minister Vasubhūti to Vatsa, but, wrecked at sea, she is rescued by a merchant of Kauçāmbī, taken there, and handed[172]over to Vāsavadattā who, seeing her beauty, decides to keep her from contact with her inconstant spouse. But fate is adverse; at the spring festival which she celebrates with Vatsa, Sāgarikā, as the princess is called from her rescue from the sea, appears in the queen’s train; hastily sent away, she lingers concealed, watches the ceremony of the worship of the god Kāma, thinking Vatsa is the god in bodily presence, but is undeceived by the eulogy of the herald announcing the advent of evening. In Act II Sāgarikā is presented with her friend Susaṁgatā; she has depicted the prince on a canvas, and Susaṁgatā in raillery adds her beside him; she admits her love, but the confidence is broken by the alarm created by the escape of a monkey from the stables. In its mad rush it breaks the cage in Sāgarikā’s keeping, and the parrot escapes. The king and the Vidūṣaka enter the grove where the bird is, hear it repeat the maidens’ talk, and find the picture. The maidens returning for the picture overhear the confidences of the king and the Vidūṣaka, until Susaṁgatā sallies out and brings the lovers face to face. Their meeting is cut short by the advent of the queen, who sees the picture, realizes the position, and departs without manifesting the deep anger which she feels and which the king vainly seeks to assuage. In Act III the Vidūṣaka proves to have devised a scheme to secure a meeting of the lovers; Sāgarikā dressed as the queen and Susaṁgatā as her attendant are to meet Vatsa, but the plot is overheard, and it is Vāsavadattā herself who keeps the rendezvous; she listens to Vatsa’s declarations of love, and then bitterly reproaches him, rejecting his attempts to excuse himself. Sāgarikā, who had come on the scene too late, hears the king’s plight; weary, she ties a noose to her neck, when she is saved by the advent of the Vidūṣaka and the king, who naturally mistakes her for Vāsavadattā whom he fears his cruelty has driven to suicide. He joyously recognizes his error, but the queen, who, ashamed of her anger, has returned to make friends with her husband, finds the lovers united, and in violent anger carries off the maiden and the Vidūṣaka captive. But in Act IV we find the Vidūṣaka released and forgiven, but Sāgarikā in some prison, the king helpless to aid her. Good news, however, arrives; the general Rumaṇvant has won a victory over the Kosalas and slain the king. A magician enters and is allowed to display his art,[173]but the spectacle is interrupted by the advent of Vasubhūti and Bābhravya, who also have escaped the shipwreck. They tell their tale of disaster, when another interruption occurs; the harem is on fire; Vāsavadattā, shocked, reveals that Sāgarikā is there; Vatsa rushes to aid her, and emerges with her in chains, for the fire has been no more than a device of the magician. Bābhravya and Vasubhūti recognize in Sāgarikā the princess, and Yaugandharāyaṇa arrives to confess his management of the whole plot and the magician’s device. Vāsavadattā gladly gives the king to Ratnāvalī, since her husband will thus be lord of the earth, and Ratnāvalī is her full cousin.ThePriyadarçikā12introduces us in a speech by his chamberlain, Vinayavasu, to the king Dṛḍhavarman, whose daughter is destined for wedlock with Vatsa despite the demand for her hand made by the king of Kalin̄ga, who revenges himself during Vatsa’s imprisonment at the court of Pradyota by attacking and driving away Dṛḍhavarman. The maid is carried away by the chamberlain and is received and sheltered by Vindhyaketu, her father’s ally, but he offends Vatsa, is attacked and killed by his general Vijayasena, who brings back as part of the booty the unlucky Priyadarçikā; the king allots her to the harem as attendant on Vāsavadattā with the name Āraṇyikā (Āraṇyakā). In Act II we find the king, who has fallen in love with the maiden, seeking to distract himself with his Vidūṣaka. Āraṇyikā enters, to pluck lotuses, with her friend; she tells her love, which the king overhears; a bee attacks her when her friend leaves her, and in her confusion she runs into the arms of the king. Vatsa rescues her, but retires when her confidante returns. Act III tells that the aged confidante of the queen, Sāṁkṛtyāyanī, has composed a play on the marriage of Vatsa and Vāsavadattā which the queen is to see performed; the rôle of queen is to be played by Āraṇyikā, and Manoramā is to act the part of king, but she and the Vidūṣaka have arranged to let the king take the part. The performance causes anxiety to the queen, so ardent is the love-making, though Sāṁkṛtyāyanī reminds her it is but play-making; she leaves the hall, and finds the Vidūṣaka asleep; rudely wakened, he lets out the secret and the queen refuses to listen toVatsa’slame excuses. Act IV reveals Āraṇyikā in[174]prison, the king in despair, and the queen in sorrow, as she has learned from a letter from her mother that Dṛḍhavarman, her aunt’s husband, is in bondage, needing Vatsa’s aid. But Vijayasena brings news of the defeat of the Kalin̄ga king and the re-establishment of Dṛḍhavarman, and the chamberlain of the latter brings his thanks, his one sorrow being his daughter’s loss. Manoramā enters in terror; Āraṇyikā has poisoned herself, Vāsavadattā, filled with remorse, has her fetched, as Vatsa can cure her; the chamberlain recognizes his princess, Vatsa’s magic arts bring her back to consciousness, and Vāsavadattā recognizes in her her cousin, and grants her hand to the king.TheNāgānanda13performed at a festival of Indra, perhaps in the autumn, differs from these dramas in its form, for it is a Nāṭaka in five Acts, and in its inspiration; those are variants by Harṣa on the theme of Vatsa’s loves, this is the dramatization of a Buddhist legend, the self-sacrifice of Jīmūtavāhana, which was told in theBṛhatkathā, whence it appears in the later versions of that text14and in theVetālapañcaviṅçati.15Jīmūtavāhana is a prince of the Vidyādharas, whohas inducedhis father to resign his kingship, and give himself up to a life of calm; he has made the acquaintance of Mitrāvasu, the prince of the Siddhas, who has a sister. She has had a dream in which Gaurī has revealed to her her future husband, and Jīmūtavāhana hidden behind a thicket overhears her confiding this dream to her friend; the Vidūṣaka forces a meeting on the timid lovers, who shyly confess their affection, when an ascetic from the hermitage arrives to take the maiden away. In Act II Malayavatī is love-sick, resting on a stone seat in the garden; a sound makes her move away, when the king enters, equally oppressed, declares his love and paints his fancy. Mitrāvasu comes to offer him his sister’s hand; the king declines it, ignorant of whom he loves; she deems herself disdained and seeks to hang herself, but her friends rescue her and call for aid. Jīmūtavāhana appears, and proves that she is his love by showing the picture. The two exchange vows, and the marriage is concluded. In Act III, after a comic interlude, we find them walking in the park in happiness; Jīmūtavāhana is[175]apprised of the seizure of his kingdom, but accepts the news gladly. But the last two Acts change the topic. While strolling with Mitrāvasu one day, Jīmūtavāhana sees a heap of bones and learns that they are the bones of serpents daily offered to the divine bird Garuḍa; he resolves to save the lives of the serpents at the cost of his own, gets rid of Mitrāvasu, and goes to the place of offering. He hears the sobs of the mother of Çan̄khacūḍa, whose son is about to be offered, consoles her by offering himself in ransom, but is refused with admiration for his gallantry. But, when the two have entered the temple to pray before the offering, he gives himself to Garuḍa as substitute and is borne away. The last Act opens with the anxiety of the parents of Jīmūtavāhana, to whom and his wife is borne a jewel fallen from his crown; Çan̄khacūḍa, also, emerged from the temple, finds the sacrifice made and reveals to Garuḍa his crime. It is too late; the hero expires as his parents arrive. Garuḍa is ashamed, and Gaurī appears to cut the knot, revive the prince, and re-establish him in his realm, in order to keep faith with Malayavatī; by a shower of ambrosia the snakes slain by Garuḍa revive, and he promises to forego his cruel revenge.

3.The Three Dramas

TheRatnāvalīand thePriyadarçikāare closely connected both in subject-matter and form; they are Nāṭikās, each in four Acts; their common hero is Udayana, whom Bhāsa already celebrated, and the common theme one of his numerous amourettes. TheRatnāvalī,11in special, has found favour in the text-books of the drama, and has served to illustrate the technical rules.The ubiquitous Yaugandharāyaṇa, insatiable in seeking his master’s welfare, has planned marriage for him with the daughter of the king of Ceylon, but to attain this end has been difficult; to avoid vexing the queen Vāsavadattā, he has kept her in the dark, and has spread a rumour which he has had conveyed by Bābhravya, the king’s chamberlain, of the death of Vāsavadattā in a fire at Lāvāṇaka. The king of Ceylon then yields the hand of his daughter, and dispatches her in the care of the chamberlain and his minister Vasubhūti to Vatsa, but, wrecked at sea, she is rescued by a merchant of Kauçāmbī, taken there, and handed[172]over to Vāsavadattā who, seeing her beauty, decides to keep her from contact with her inconstant spouse. But fate is adverse; at the spring festival which she celebrates with Vatsa, Sāgarikā, as the princess is called from her rescue from the sea, appears in the queen’s train; hastily sent away, she lingers concealed, watches the ceremony of the worship of the god Kāma, thinking Vatsa is the god in bodily presence, but is undeceived by the eulogy of the herald announcing the advent of evening. In Act II Sāgarikā is presented with her friend Susaṁgatā; she has depicted the prince on a canvas, and Susaṁgatā in raillery adds her beside him; she admits her love, but the confidence is broken by the alarm created by the escape of a monkey from the stables. In its mad rush it breaks the cage in Sāgarikā’s keeping, and the parrot escapes. The king and the Vidūṣaka enter the grove where the bird is, hear it repeat the maidens’ talk, and find the picture. The maidens returning for the picture overhear the confidences of the king and the Vidūṣaka, until Susaṁgatā sallies out and brings the lovers face to face. Their meeting is cut short by the advent of the queen, who sees the picture, realizes the position, and departs without manifesting the deep anger which she feels and which the king vainly seeks to assuage. In Act III the Vidūṣaka proves to have devised a scheme to secure a meeting of the lovers; Sāgarikā dressed as the queen and Susaṁgatā as her attendant are to meet Vatsa, but the plot is overheard, and it is Vāsavadattā herself who keeps the rendezvous; she listens to Vatsa’s declarations of love, and then bitterly reproaches him, rejecting his attempts to excuse himself. Sāgarikā, who had come on the scene too late, hears the king’s plight; weary, she ties a noose to her neck, when she is saved by the advent of the Vidūṣaka and the king, who naturally mistakes her for Vāsavadattā whom he fears his cruelty has driven to suicide. He joyously recognizes his error, but the queen, who, ashamed of her anger, has returned to make friends with her husband, finds the lovers united, and in violent anger carries off the maiden and the Vidūṣaka captive. But in Act IV we find the Vidūṣaka released and forgiven, but Sāgarikā in some prison, the king helpless to aid her. Good news, however, arrives; the general Rumaṇvant has won a victory over the Kosalas and slain the king. A magician enters and is allowed to display his art,[173]but the spectacle is interrupted by the advent of Vasubhūti and Bābhravya, who also have escaped the shipwreck. They tell their tale of disaster, when another interruption occurs; the harem is on fire; Vāsavadattā, shocked, reveals that Sāgarikā is there; Vatsa rushes to aid her, and emerges with her in chains, for the fire has been no more than a device of the magician. Bābhravya and Vasubhūti recognize in Sāgarikā the princess, and Yaugandharāyaṇa arrives to confess his management of the whole plot and the magician’s device. Vāsavadattā gladly gives the king to Ratnāvalī, since her husband will thus be lord of the earth, and Ratnāvalī is her full cousin.ThePriyadarçikā12introduces us in a speech by his chamberlain, Vinayavasu, to the king Dṛḍhavarman, whose daughter is destined for wedlock with Vatsa despite the demand for her hand made by the king of Kalin̄ga, who revenges himself during Vatsa’s imprisonment at the court of Pradyota by attacking and driving away Dṛḍhavarman. The maid is carried away by the chamberlain and is received and sheltered by Vindhyaketu, her father’s ally, but he offends Vatsa, is attacked and killed by his general Vijayasena, who brings back as part of the booty the unlucky Priyadarçikā; the king allots her to the harem as attendant on Vāsavadattā with the name Āraṇyikā (Āraṇyakā). In Act II we find the king, who has fallen in love with the maiden, seeking to distract himself with his Vidūṣaka. Āraṇyikā enters, to pluck lotuses, with her friend; she tells her love, which the king overhears; a bee attacks her when her friend leaves her, and in her confusion she runs into the arms of the king. Vatsa rescues her, but retires when her confidante returns. Act III tells that the aged confidante of the queen, Sāṁkṛtyāyanī, has composed a play on the marriage of Vatsa and Vāsavadattā which the queen is to see performed; the rôle of queen is to be played by Āraṇyikā, and Manoramā is to act the part of king, but she and the Vidūṣaka have arranged to let the king take the part. The performance causes anxiety to the queen, so ardent is the love-making, though Sāṁkṛtyāyanī reminds her it is but play-making; she leaves the hall, and finds the Vidūṣaka asleep; rudely wakened, he lets out the secret and the queen refuses to listen toVatsa’slame excuses. Act IV reveals Āraṇyikā in[174]prison, the king in despair, and the queen in sorrow, as she has learned from a letter from her mother that Dṛḍhavarman, her aunt’s husband, is in bondage, needing Vatsa’s aid. But Vijayasena brings news of the defeat of the Kalin̄ga king and the re-establishment of Dṛḍhavarman, and the chamberlain of the latter brings his thanks, his one sorrow being his daughter’s loss. Manoramā enters in terror; Āraṇyikā has poisoned herself, Vāsavadattā, filled with remorse, has her fetched, as Vatsa can cure her; the chamberlain recognizes his princess, Vatsa’s magic arts bring her back to consciousness, and Vāsavadattā recognizes in her her cousin, and grants her hand to the king.TheNāgānanda13performed at a festival of Indra, perhaps in the autumn, differs from these dramas in its form, for it is a Nāṭaka in five Acts, and in its inspiration; those are variants by Harṣa on the theme of Vatsa’s loves, this is the dramatization of a Buddhist legend, the self-sacrifice of Jīmūtavāhana, which was told in theBṛhatkathā, whence it appears in the later versions of that text14and in theVetālapañcaviṅçati.15Jīmūtavāhana is a prince of the Vidyādharas, whohas inducedhis father to resign his kingship, and give himself up to a life of calm; he has made the acquaintance of Mitrāvasu, the prince of the Siddhas, who has a sister. She has had a dream in which Gaurī has revealed to her her future husband, and Jīmūtavāhana hidden behind a thicket overhears her confiding this dream to her friend; the Vidūṣaka forces a meeting on the timid lovers, who shyly confess their affection, when an ascetic from the hermitage arrives to take the maiden away. In Act II Malayavatī is love-sick, resting on a stone seat in the garden; a sound makes her move away, when the king enters, equally oppressed, declares his love and paints his fancy. Mitrāvasu comes to offer him his sister’s hand; the king declines it, ignorant of whom he loves; she deems herself disdained and seeks to hang herself, but her friends rescue her and call for aid. Jīmūtavāhana appears, and proves that she is his love by showing the picture. The two exchange vows, and the marriage is concluded. In Act III, after a comic interlude, we find them walking in the park in happiness; Jīmūtavāhana is[175]apprised of the seizure of his kingdom, but accepts the news gladly. But the last two Acts change the topic. While strolling with Mitrāvasu one day, Jīmūtavāhana sees a heap of bones and learns that they are the bones of serpents daily offered to the divine bird Garuḍa; he resolves to save the lives of the serpents at the cost of his own, gets rid of Mitrāvasu, and goes to the place of offering. He hears the sobs of the mother of Çan̄khacūḍa, whose son is about to be offered, consoles her by offering himself in ransom, but is refused with admiration for his gallantry. But, when the two have entered the temple to pray before the offering, he gives himself to Garuḍa as substitute and is borne away. The last Act opens with the anxiety of the parents of Jīmūtavāhana, to whom and his wife is borne a jewel fallen from his crown; Çan̄khacūḍa, also, emerged from the temple, finds the sacrifice made and reveals to Garuḍa his crime. It is too late; the hero expires as his parents arrive. Garuḍa is ashamed, and Gaurī appears to cut the knot, revive the prince, and re-establish him in his realm, in order to keep faith with Malayavatī; by a shower of ambrosia the snakes slain by Garuḍa revive, and he promises to forego his cruel revenge.

TheRatnāvalīand thePriyadarçikāare closely connected both in subject-matter and form; they are Nāṭikās, each in four Acts; their common hero is Udayana, whom Bhāsa already celebrated, and the common theme one of his numerous amourettes. TheRatnāvalī,11in special, has found favour in the text-books of the drama, and has served to illustrate the technical rules.

The ubiquitous Yaugandharāyaṇa, insatiable in seeking his master’s welfare, has planned marriage for him with the daughter of the king of Ceylon, but to attain this end has been difficult; to avoid vexing the queen Vāsavadattā, he has kept her in the dark, and has spread a rumour which he has had conveyed by Bābhravya, the king’s chamberlain, of the death of Vāsavadattā in a fire at Lāvāṇaka. The king of Ceylon then yields the hand of his daughter, and dispatches her in the care of the chamberlain and his minister Vasubhūti to Vatsa, but, wrecked at sea, she is rescued by a merchant of Kauçāmbī, taken there, and handed[172]over to Vāsavadattā who, seeing her beauty, decides to keep her from contact with her inconstant spouse. But fate is adverse; at the spring festival which she celebrates with Vatsa, Sāgarikā, as the princess is called from her rescue from the sea, appears in the queen’s train; hastily sent away, she lingers concealed, watches the ceremony of the worship of the god Kāma, thinking Vatsa is the god in bodily presence, but is undeceived by the eulogy of the herald announcing the advent of evening. In Act II Sāgarikā is presented with her friend Susaṁgatā; she has depicted the prince on a canvas, and Susaṁgatā in raillery adds her beside him; she admits her love, but the confidence is broken by the alarm created by the escape of a monkey from the stables. In its mad rush it breaks the cage in Sāgarikā’s keeping, and the parrot escapes. The king and the Vidūṣaka enter the grove where the bird is, hear it repeat the maidens’ talk, and find the picture. The maidens returning for the picture overhear the confidences of the king and the Vidūṣaka, until Susaṁgatā sallies out and brings the lovers face to face. Their meeting is cut short by the advent of the queen, who sees the picture, realizes the position, and departs without manifesting the deep anger which she feels and which the king vainly seeks to assuage. In Act III the Vidūṣaka proves to have devised a scheme to secure a meeting of the lovers; Sāgarikā dressed as the queen and Susaṁgatā as her attendant are to meet Vatsa, but the plot is overheard, and it is Vāsavadattā herself who keeps the rendezvous; she listens to Vatsa’s declarations of love, and then bitterly reproaches him, rejecting his attempts to excuse himself. Sāgarikā, who had come on the scene too late, hears the king’s plight; weary, she ties a noose to her neck, when she is saved by the advent of the Vidūṣaka and the king, who naturally mistakes her for Vāsavadattā whom he fears his cruelty has driven to suicide. He joyously recognizes his error, but the queen, who, ashamed of her anger, has returned to make friends with her husband, finds the lovers united, and in violent anger carries off the maiden and the Vidūṣaka captive. But in Act IV we find the Vidūṣaka released and forgiven, but Sāgarikā in some prison, the king helpless to aid her. Good news, however, arrives; the general Rumaṇvant has won a victory over the Kosalas and slain the king. A magician enters and is allowed to display his art,[173]but the spectacle is interrupted by the advent of Vasubhūti and Bābhravya, who also have escaped the shipwreck. They tell their tale of disaster, when another interruption occurs; the harem is on fire; Vāsavadattā, shocked, reveals that Sāgarikā is there; Vatsa rushes to aid her, and emerges with her in chains, for the fire has been no more than a device of the magician. Bābhravya and Vasubhūti recognize in Sāgarikā the princess, and Yaugandharāyaṇa arrives to confess his management of the whole plot and the magician’s device. Vāsavadattā gladly gives the king to Ratnāvalī, since her husband will thus be lord of the earth, and Ratnāvalī is her full cousin.

ThePriyadarçikā12introduces us in a speech by his chamberlain, Vinayavasu, to the king Dṛḍhavarman, whose daughter is destined for wedlock with Vatsa despite the demand for her hand made by the king of Kalin̄ga, who revenges himself during Vatsa’s imprisonment at the court of Pradyota by attacking and driving away Dṛḍhavarman. The maid is carried away by the chamberlain and is received and sheltered by Vindhyaketu, her father’s ally, but he offends Vatsa, is attacked and killed by his general Vijayasena, who brings back as part of the booty the unlucky Priyadarçikā; the king allots her to the harem as attendant on Vāsavadattā with the name Āraṇyikā (Āraṇyakā). In Act II we find the king, who has fallen in love with the maiden, seeking to distract himself with his Vidūṣaka. Āraṇyikā enters, to pluck lotuses, with her friend; she tells her love, which the king overhears; a bee attacks her when her friend leaves her, and in her confusion she runs into the arms of the king. Vatsa rescues her, but retires when her confidante returns. Act III tells that the aged confidante of the queen, Sāṁkṛtyāyanī, has composed a play on the marriage of Vatsa and Vāsavadattā which the queen is to see performed; the rôle of queen is to be played by Āraṇyikā, and Manoramā is to act the part of king, but she and the Vidūṣaka have arranged to let the king take the part. The performance causes anxiety to the queen, so ardent is the love-making, though Sāṁkṛtyāyanī reminds her it is but play-making; she leaves the hall, and finds the Vidūṣaka asleep; rudely wakened, he lets out the secret and the queen refuses to listen toVatsa’slame excuses. Act IV reveals Āraṇyikā in[174]prison, the king in despair, and the queen in sorrow, as she has learned from a letter from her mother that Dṛḍhavarman, her aunt’s husband, is in bondage, needing Vatsa’s aid. But Vijayasena brings news of the defeat of the Kalin̄ga king and the re-establishment of Dṛḍhavarman, and the chamberlain of the latter brings his thanks, his one sorrow being his daughter’s loss. Manoramā enters in terror; Āraṇyikā has poisoned herself, Vāsavadattā, filled with remorse, has her fetched, as Vatsa can cure her; the chamberlain recognizes his princess, Vatsa’s magic arts bring her back to consciousness, and Vāsavadattā recognizes in her her cousin, and grants her hand to the king.

TheNāgānanda13performed at a festival of Indra, perhaps in the autumn, differs from these dramas in its form, for it is a Nāṭaka in five Acts, and in its inspiration; those are variants by Harṣa on the theme of Vatsa’s loves, this is the dramatization of a Buddhist legend, the self-sacrifice of Jīmūtavāhana, which was told in theBṛhatkathā, whence it appears in the later versions of that text14and in theVetālapañcaviṅçati.15Jīmūtavāhana is a prince of the Vidyādharas, whohas inducedhis father to resign his kingship, and give himself up to a life of calm; he has made the acquaintance of Mitrāvasu, the prince of the Siddhas, who has a sister. She has had a dream in which Gaurī has revealed to her her future husband, and Jīmūtavāhana hidden behind a thicket overhears her confiding this dream to her friend; the Vidūṣaka forces a meeting on the timid lovers, who shyly confess their affection, when an ascetic from the hermitage arrives to take the maiden away. In Act II Malayavatī is love-sick, resting on a stone seat in the garden; a sound makes her move away, when the king enters, equally oppressed, declares his love and paints his fancy. Mitrāvasu comes to offer him his sister’s hand; the king declines it, ignorant of whom he loves; she deems herself disdained and seeks to hang herself, but her friends rescue her and call for aid. Jīmūtavāhana appears, and proves that she is his love by showing the picture. The two exchange vows, and the marriage is concluded. In Act III, after a comic interlude, we find them walking in the park in happiness; Jīmūtavāhana is[175]apprised of the seizure of his kingdom, but accepts the news gladly. But the last two Acts change the topic. While strolling with Mitrāvasu one day, Jīmūtavāhana sees a heap of bones and learns that they are the bones of serpents daily offered to the divine bird Garuḍa; he resolves to save the lives of the serpents at the cost of his own, gets rid of Mitrāvasu, and goes to the place of offering. He hears the sobs of the mother of Çan̄khacūḍa, whose son is about to be offered, consoles her by offering himself in ransom, but is refused with admiration for his gallantry. But, when the two have entered the temple to pray before the offering, he gives himself to Garuḍa as substitute and is borne away. The last Act opens with the anxiety of the parents of Jīmūtavāhana, to whom and his wife is borne a jewel fallen from his crown; Çan̄khacūḍa, also, emerged from the temple, finds the sacrifice made and reveals to Garuḍa his crime. It is too late; the hero expires as his parents arrive. Garuḍa is ashamed, and Gaurī appears to cut the knot, revive the prince, and re-establish him in his realm, in order to keep faith with Malayavatī; by a shower of ambrosia the snakes slain by Garuḍa revive, and he promises to forego his cruel revenge.

[Contents]4.Harṣa’s Art and StyleComparison with Kālidāsa is doubtless the cause why Harṣa has tended to receive less praise than is due to his dramas. The originality of his Nāṭikās is not perhaps great, but he has effectively devised the plot in both; the action moves smoothly and in either play there is ingenuity. The scene of the magician’s activity in theRatnāvalīis depicted with humour and vivacity; the parrot’s escape and its chatter are sketched with piquancy, and the exchange of costumes in theRatnāvalīis natural and effective. The double comedy in thePriyadarçikāis a happy thought, the intrigue in Act IV is neatly conducted, so as to show us Vāsavadattā in the light of an affectionate niece, and the scene with the bee is attractive. It is true that the plays are full of reminiscences of theMālavikāgnimitra, such as the escape in theRatnāvalīof the monkey, and the monkey that there frightens the little princess while Sāṁkṛtyāyanī is Kauçikī revived. But in this artificial comedy elegance is sought, not[176]originality,16and Harṣa is a clever borrower. The similarity of development of both plays is perhaps more to be condemned; they are too obviously variations of one theme.The dominant emotion in either is love of the type which appertains to a noble and gay (dhīralalita) hero, who is always courteous, whose loves, that is to say, mean very little to him, and who does not forget to assure the old love of his devotion while playing with the new. This is a different aspect of Vatsa’s character from that displayed by Bhāsa, and admittedly a much inferior one. Vāsavadattā suffers equal deterioration, for she is no longer the wife who sacrifices herself for her husband’s good; she is rather a jealous, though noble and kind-hearted woman, whose love for her husband makes her resent too deeply his inconstancy. The heroines areingénueswith nothing but good looks and willingness to be loved by the king, whom they know, though he does not, to be destined by their fathers as their husband. In neither case is any adequate reason17suggested for the failure to declare themselves in their true character, unless we are to assume that they would not, in the absence of sponsors, have been believed. Susaṁgatā, the friend of the heroine in theRatnāvalī, is a pleasant, merry girl who makes excellent fun of her mistress. The Vidūṣaka18in both plays is typical in his greediness, but his figure lacks comic force; he is, however, a pleasant enough character, for his love for his master is genuine; he is prepared to die with him in theRatnāvalī, though he thinks his action in rushing into the fire quixotic. The magician is an amusing and clever sketch of great pretensions allied to some juggling skill.TheNāgānandareveals Harṣa in a new light in the last two Acts. His liking for the marvellous is exhibited indeed in the last Acts of both the Nāṭikās in accord with the theory, but it has a far wider scope in theNāgānanda, where the supernatural freely appears, and, though the drama be Buddhist in inspiration, Gaurī is introduced to solve the difficulty of restoring[177]Jīmūtavāhana. Harṣa here rises to the task of depicting the emotions of self-sacrifice, charity, magnanimity, and resolution in the face of death; Jīmūtavāhana, however bizarre his setting, is one of the ideals of Buddhism, a man seized with the conviction that to sacrifice oneself for others is the highest duty. Çan̄khacūḍa and his mother too appear as noble in character, far superior to the savage Garuḍa. There is, it must be admitted, a decided lack of harmony between the two distinct parts of the drama, but the total effect is far from unsuccessful. Perhaps as a counterpoise to the seriousness of the last part, Harṣa has introduced effective comedy in Act III. The Vidūṣaka, Ātreya, is hideous and stupid; as he lies sleeping, covered by a mantle to protect him from the bees, the Viṭa, Çekharaka, sees him, mistakes him for his inamorata, embraces him and fondles him. Navamālikā enters, and, indignant, the Viṭa makes the Vidūṣaka, though a Brahmin, bow before her and drink alcohol. A little later Navamālikā makes fun of him before the newly married couple by painting his face with Tamūla juice.Harṣa is fond of descriptions in the approved manner; the evening, midday, the park, the hermitage, the gardens, the fountain, the marriage festival, the hour for the bath, the mountain Malaya, the forest, the palace, are among the ordinary themes beloved in the Kāvya. In imagination and grace he is certainly inferior to Kālidāsa, but he possesses the great merit of simplicity of expression and thought; his Sanskrit is classical, and precise; his use of figures of speech and thought restrained and in good taste. There is fire in his description of a battle:19astravyastaçirastraçastrakaṣaṇaiḥ kṛttottamān̄ge muhurvyūḍhāsṛksariti svanatpraharaṇair gharmodvamadvahniniāhūyājimukhe sa Kosalādhipatir bhagne pradhāne baleekenaiva Rumaṇvatā çaraçatair mattadvipastho hataḥ.‘Heads were cleft by the blows of swords on helmets sore smitten; blood flowed in torrents, fire flashed from the ringing strokes; when his main host had been broken, Rumaṇvant challenged in the forefront of the battle the lord of Kosala, who rode on a maddened elephant, and alone slew him with a hundred arrows.’ The matching of the sound to the sense[178]is admirable, while a delicate perception is evinced in the line describing the king’s success in soothing the wounded queen:20savyājaiḥ çapathaiḥ priyeṇa vacasā cittānuvṛttyādhikamvailakṣyeṇa pareṇa padapatanair vākyaiḥ sakhīnāṁ muhuḥpratyāsattim upāgatā na hi tathā devī rudatyā yathāprakṣālyeva tayaiva bāṣpasalilaiḥ kopo ’panītaḥ svayam.‘It was not so much by my false oaths of devotion, my loving words, my coaxing, my depths of dejection, and falling at her feet, or the advice of her friends, that the queen was appeased as that her anger was wiped away by the cleansing water of her own bitter tears.’ Pretty, if not appropriate, is the king’s address to the fire:21virama virama vahne muñca dhūmānubandham: prakaṭayasi kim uccair arciṣāṁ cakravālam?virahahutabhujāhaṁ yo na dagdhaḥ priyāyāḥ: pralayadahanabhāsā tasya kiṁ tvaṁ karoṣi?‘Stay, stay, fire; cease thy constant smoke; why dost thou raise aloft thy circle of flames? What canst thou avail against me, whom the fire of severance from my beloved, fierce as the flame that shall consume the universe, could not consume?’ There is excellent taste and propriety in Vatsa’s address to the dead Kosala king:22mṛtyur api te çlāghyo yasya çatravo ’py evaṁ puruṣakāraṁ varṇayanti.‘Even death for thee is glorious when even thy foes must thus depict thy manly prowess.’ Such a phrase may reveal to us the true Harṣa himself, the winner of many victories, and the hero of one great disaster.TheNāgānandastrikes varied notes; there is fire and enthusiasm in the assurances which Mitrāvasu gives the prince of the swift overthrow of his enemy, Matan̄ga, at the hands of his faithful Siddhas, will he but give the word:23saṁsarpadbhiḥ samantāt kṛtasakalaviyanmārgayānair vimānaiḥkurvāṇāḥ prāvṛṣīva sthagitaravirucaḥ çyāmatāṁ vāsarasyaete yātāç ca sadyas tava vacanam itaḥ prāpya yuddhāya siddhāḥsiddhaṁ codvṛttaçatrukṣayabhayavinamadrājakaṁ te svarājyam.‘With their chariots, meeting together and o’erspreading the whole surface of the sky as they speed along, darkening the day[179]as when the sun’s rays are hidden in the rain, my Siddhas await but the bidding to fare forthwith hence to the battle; but say the word and thy haughty foe shall fall, and thy kingdom be restored to thee, while the princes bow before thee in fear of his fate.’Jīmūtavāhana, however, has other views of his duty:24svaçarīram api parārthe yaḥ khalu dadyām ayācitaḥ kṛpayārājyasya kṛte sa katham prāṇivadhakrauryam anumanye?‘Gladly, unasked, would I give my own life for another in compassion; how then could I consent to the cruel slaughter of men merely to win a realm?’ The saying is essential to the drama, for it leads immediately to the determination of the prince to sacrifice himself for the Nāga.There is dignity and force in the admonition addressed by the dying hero to the repentant Garuḍa who begs him to command him:25nityam prāṇātipātāt prativirama kuru prākkṛte cānutāpamyatnāt puṇyapravāhaṁ samupacinu diçan sarvasattveṣv abhītimmagnaṁ yenātra nainaḥ phalati parimitaprāṇihiṅsāttam etaddurgāḍhāpāravārer lavaṇapalam iva kṣiptam antar hradasya.‘Cease for ever from taking life; repent of thy past misdeeds; eagerly accumulate a store of merit, freeing all creatures from fear of thee, so that, lost in the infinite stream of thy goodness, the sin of slaying creatures, in number limited, may cease to fructify, even as a morsel of salt cast in the unfathomable depths of a great lake.’Though Buddhist the drama, the benediction is enough to show how effectively the spirit of the Nāṭikā has been introduced into the legend:26dhyānavyājam upetya cintayasi kām unmīlya cakṣuḥ kṣaṇam?paçyānan̄gaçarāturaṁ janam imaṁ trātāpi no rakṣasimithyākāruṇiko ’si nirghṛṇataras tvattaḥ kuto ’nyaḥ pumān?serṣyam Māravadhūbhir ity abhihito Buddho27jinaḥ pātu vaḥ.‘ “Feigned is thy trance; of what fair one dost thou think? Open thine eyes for a moment and gaze on us whom love doth[180]drive mad. Protector art thou; save thou us. False is thy compassion; could there be any man more pitiless than thou?” May he, whom Māra’s beauties thus addressed, the Buddha, the conqueror, protect you.’But Harṣa’s chief merit is undoubtedly shown in erotic verses as in the description of the shyness of the new-made bride in theNāgānanda:28dṛṣṭā dṛṣṭim adho dadhāti kurute nālāpam ābhāṣitāçayyāyām parivṛtya tiṣṭhati balād ālin̄gitā vepateniryāntīṣu sakhīṣu vāsabhavanān nirgantum evehatejātā vāmatayaiva me ’dya sutarām prītyai navoḍhā priyā.‘Looked at, she casts down her face; addressed, she gives no reply; with head averted she lies on the couch; forcibly embraced, she trembles; when her maidens leave her chamber, she seeks also to depart; perverse though she be, my new-wed love delights me more and more.’ The accuracy of the aim of love as an archer is described in theRatnāvalī:29manaḥ prakṛtyaiva calaṁ durlakṣyaṁ ca tathāpi meanan̄gena kathaṁ viddhaṁ samaṁ sarvaçilīmukhāiḥ.‘Mind is naturally mobile and hard to find; nevertheless mine has been pierced by love at once with all his darts.’ In entire harmony with Indian taste Harṣa dwells on the points of physical perfection in the adored one in theNāgānanda:30khedāya stanabhāra eṣa kim u te madhyasya hāro ’parastāmyaty ūruyugaṁ nitambabharataḥ kāñcyānayā kim punaḥçaktiḥ padayugasya noruyugalaṁ voḍhuṁ kuto nūpurausvān̄gair eva vibhūṣitāsi vahasi kleçāya kiṁ maṇḍanam?‘The burden of thy bosom serves to weary thy waist; why then add the weight of thy necklace? Thy thighs are wearied by the bearing of thy hips; why then thy girdle of bells? Thy feet can barely carry the load of thy thighs; why add thine anklets? When in every limb thou dost possess such grace, why dost thou wear ornaments to thy weariness?’ Harṣa is also capable of expressing a deeper side of love, as when the king in theRatnāvalī31fancies that Vāsavadattā has been driven to suicide by his faithlessness:[181]samārūḍhaprītiḥ praṇayabahumānād anudinamvyalīkaṁ vīkṣyedaṁ kṛtam akṛtapūrvaṁ khalu mayāpriyā muñcaty adya sphuṭam asahanā jīvitam asauprakṛṣṭasya premṇaḥ skhalitam aviṣahyaṁ hi bhavati.‘My beloved, whose love for me waxed daily because of my affection and respect, has seen my falsity which she has never known before, and now assuredly she seeks to lay life aside in despair; for unendurable is a wrong against a noble love.’

4.Harṣa’s Art and Style

Comparison with Kālidāsa is doubtless the cause why Harṣa has tended to receive less praise than is due to his dramas. The originality of his Nāṭikās is not perhaps great, but he has effectively devised the plot in both; the action moves smoothly and in either play there is ingenuity. The scene of the magician’s activity in theRatnāvalīis depicted with humour and vivacity; the parrot’s escape and its chatter are sketched with piquancy, and the exchange of costumes in theRatnāvalīis natural and effective. The double comedy in thePriyadarçikāis a happy thought, the intrigue in Act IV is neatly conducted, so as to show us Vāsavadattā in the light of an affectionate niece, and the scene with the bee is attractive. It is true that the plays are full of reminiscences of theMālavikāgnimitra, such as the escape in theRatnāvalīof the monkey, and the monkey that there frightens the little princess while Sāṁkṛtyāyanī is Kauçikī revived. But in this artificial comedy elegance is sought, not[176]originality,16and Harṣa is a clever borrower. The similarity of development of both plays is perhaps more to be condemned; they are too obviously variations of one theme.The dominant emotion in either is love of the type which appertains to a noble and gay (dhīralalita) hero, who is always courteous, whose loves, that is to say, mean very little to him, and who does not forget to assure the old love of his devotion while playing with the new. This is a different aspect of Vatsa’s character from that displayed by Bhāsa, and admittedly a much inferior one. Vāsavadattā suffers equal deterioration, for she is no longer the wife who sacrifices herself for her husband’s good; she is rather a jealous, though noble and kind-hearted woman, whose love for her husband makes her resent too deeply his inconstancy. The heroines areingénueswith nothing but good looks and willingness to be loved by the king, whom they know, though he does not, to be destined by their fathers as their husband. In neither case is any adequate reason17suggested for the failure to declare themselves in their true character, unless we are to assume that they would not, in the absence of sponsors, have been believed. Susaṁgatā, the friend of the heroine in theRatnāvalī, is a pleasant, merry girl who makes excellent fun of her mistress. The Vidūṣaka18in both plays is typical in his greediness, but his figure lacks comic force; he is, however, a pleasant enough character, for his love for his master is genuine; he is prepared to die with him in theRatnāvalī, though he thinks his action in rushing into the fire quixotic. The magician is an amusing and clever sketch of great pretensions allied to some juggling skill.TheNāgānandareveals Harṣa in a new light in the last two Acts. His liking for the marvellous is exhibited indeed in the last Acts of both the Nāṭikās in accord with the theory, but it has a far wider scope in theNāgānanda, where the supernatural freely appears, and, though the drama be Buddhist in inspiration, Gaurī is introduced to solve the difficulty of restoring[177]Jīmūtavāhana. Harṣa here rises to the task of depicting the emotions of self-sacrifice, charity, magnanimity, and resolution in the face of death; Jīmūtavāhana, however bizarre his setting, is one of the ideals of Buddhism, a man seized with the conviction that to sacrifice oneself for others is the highest duty. Çan̄khacūḍa and his mother too appear as noble in character, far superior to the savage Garuḍa. There is, it must be admitted, a decided lack of harmony between the two distinct parts of the drama, but the total effect is far from unsuccessful. Perhaps as a counterpoise to the seriousness of the last part, Harṣa has introduced effective comedy in Act III. The Vidūṣaka, Ātreya, is hideous and stupid; as he lies sleeping, covered by a mantle to protect him from the bees, the Viṭa, Çekharaka, sees him, mistakes him for his inamorata, embraces him and fondles him. Navamālikā enters, and, indignant, the Viṭa makes the Vidūṣaka, though a Brahmin, bow before her and drink alcohol. A little later Navamālikā makes fun of him before the newly married couple by painting his face with Tamūla juice.Harṣa is fond of descriptions in the approved manner; the evening, midday, the park, the hermitage, the gardens, the fountain, the marriage festival, the hour for the bath, the mountain Malaya, the forest, the palace, are among the ordinary themes beloved in the Kāvya. In imagination and grace he is certainly inferior to Kālidāsa, but he possesses the great merit of simplicity of expression and thought; his Sanskrit is classical, and precise; his use of figures of speech and thought restrained and in good taste. There is fire in his description of a battle:19astravyastaçirastraçastrakaṣaṇaiḥ kṛttottamān̄ge muhurvyūḍhāsṛksariti svanatpraharaṇair gharmodvamadvahniniāhūyājimukhe sa Kosalādhipatir bhagne pradhāne baleekenaiva Rumaṇvatā çaraçatair mattadvipastho hataḥ.‘Heads were cleft by the blows of swords on helmets sore smitten; blood flowed in torrents, fire flashed from the ringing strokes; when his main host had been broken, Rumaṇvant challenged in the forefront of the battle the lord of Kosala, who rode on a maddened elephant, and alone slew him with a hundred arrows.’ The matching of the sound to the sense[178]is admirable, while a delicate perception is evinced in the line describing the king’s success in soothing the wounded queen:20savyājaiḥ çapathaiḥ priyeṇa vacasā cittānuvṛttyādhikamvailakṣyeṇa pareṇa padapatanair vākyaiḥ sakhīnāṁ muhuḥpratyāsattim upāgatā na hi tathā devī rudatyā yathāprakṣālyeva tayaiva bāṣpasalilaiḥ kopo ’panītaḥ svayam.‘It was not so much by my false oaths of devotion, my loving words, my coaxing, my depths of dejection, and falling at her feet, or the advice of her friends, that the queen was appeased as that her anger was wiped away by the cleansing water of her own bitter tears.’ Pretty, if not appropriate, is the king’s address to the fire:21virama virama vahne muñca dhūmānubandham: prakaṭayasi kim uccair arciṣāṁ cakravālam?virahahutabhujāhaṁ yo na dagdhaḥ priyāyāḥ: pralayadahanabhāsā tasya kiṁ tvaṁ karoṣi?‘Stay, stay, fire; cease thy constant smoke; why dost thou raise aloft thy circle of flames? What canst thou avail against me, whom the fire of severance from my beloved, fierce as the flame that shall consume the universe, could not consume?’ There is excellent taste and propriety in Vatsa’s address to the dead Kosala king:22mṛtyur api te çlāghyo yasya çatravo ’py evaṁ puruṣakāraṁ varṇayanti.‘Even death for thee is glorious when even thy foes must thus depict thy manly prowess.’ Such a phrase may reveal to us the true Harṣa himself, the winner of many victories, and the hero of one great disaster.TheNāgānandastrikes varied notes; there is fire and enthusiasm in the assurances which Mitrāvasu gives the prince of the swift overthrow of his enemy, Matan̄ga, at the hands of his faithful Siddhas, will he but give the word:23saṁsarpadbhiḥ samantāt kṛtasakalaviyanmārgayānair vimānaiḥkurvāṇāḥ prāvṛṣīva sthagitaravirucaḥ çyāmatāṁ vāsarasyaete yātāç ca sadyas tava vacanam itaḥ prāpya yuddhāya siddhāḥsiddhaṁ codvṛttaçatrukṣayabhayavinamadrājakaṁ te svarājyam.‘With their chariots, meeting together and o’erspreading the whole surface of the sky as they speed along, darkening the day[179]as when the sun’s rays are hidden in the rain, my Siddhas await but the bidding to fare forthwith hence to the battle; but say the word and thy haughty foe shall fall, and thy kingdom be restored to thee, while the princes bow before thee in fear of his fate.’Jīmūtavāhana, however, has other views of his duty:24svaçarīram api parārthe yaḥ khalu dadyām ayācitaḥ kṛpayārājyasya kṛte sa katham prāṇivadhakrauryam anumanye?‘Gladly, unasked, would I give my own life for another in compassion; how then could I consent to the cruel slaughter of men merely to win a realm?’ The saying is essential to the drama, for it leads immediately to the determination of the prince to sacrifice himself for the Nāga.There is dignity and force in the admonition addressed by the dying hero to the repentant Garuḍa who begs him to command him:25nityam prāṇātipātāt prativirama kuru prākkṛte cānutāpamyatnāt puṇyapravāhaṁ samupacinu diçan sarvasattveṣv abhītimmagnaṁ yenātra nainaḥ phalati parimitaprāṇihiṅsāttam etaddurgāḍhāpāravārer lavaṇapalam iva kṣiptam antar hradasya.‘Cease for ever from taking life; repent of thy past misdeeds; eagerly accumulate a store of merit, freeing all creatures from fear of thee, so that, lost in the infinite stream of thy goodness, the sin of slaying creatures, in number limited, may cease to fructify, even as a morsel of salt cast in the unfathomable depths of a great lake.’Though Buddhist the drama, the benediction is enough to show how effectively the spirit of the Nāṭikā has been introduced into the legend:26dhyānavyājam upetya cintayasi kām unmīlya cakṣuḥ kṣaṇam?paçyānan̄gaçarāturaṁ janam imaṁ trātāpi no rakṣasimithyākāruṇiko ’si nirghṛṇataras tvattaḥ kuto ’nyaḥ pumān?serṣyam Māravadhūbhir ity abhihito Buddho27jinaḥ pātu vaḥ.‘ “Feigned is thy trance; of what fair one dost thou think? Open thine eyes for a moment and gaze on us whom love doth[180]drive mad. Protector art thou; save thou us. False is thy compassion; could there be any man more pitiless than thou?” May he, whom Māra’s beauties thus addressed, the Buddha, the conqueror, protect you.’But Harṣa’s chief merit is undoubtedly shown in erotic verses as in the description of the shyness of the new-made bride in theNāgānanda:28dṛṣṭā dṛṣṭim adho dadhāti kurute nālāpam ābhāṣitāçayyāyām parivṛtya tiṣṭhati balād ālin̄gitā vepateniryāntīṣu sakhīṣu vāsabhavanān nirgantum evehatejātā vāmatayaiva me ’dya sutarām prītyai navoḍhā priyā.‘Looked at, she casts down her face; addressed, she gives no reply; with head averted she lies on the couch; forcibly embraced, she trembles; when her maidens leave her chamber, she seeks also to depart; perverse though she be, my new-wed love delights me more and more.’ The accuracy of the aim of love as an archer is described in theRatnāvalī:29manaḥ prakṛtyaiva calaṁ durlakṣyaṁ ca tathāpi meanan̄gena kathaṁ viddhaṁ samaṁ sarvaçilīmukhāiḥ.‘Mind is naturally mobile and hard to find; nevertheless mine has been pierced by love at once with all his darts.’ In entire harmony with Indian taste Harṣa dwells on the points of physical perfection in the adored one in theNāgānanda:30khedāya stanabhāra eṣa kim u te madhyasya hāro ’parastāmyaty ūruyugaṁ nitambabharataḥ kāñcyānayā kim punaḥçaktiḥ padayugasya noruyugalaṁ voḍhuṁ kuto nūpurausvān̄gair eva vibhūṣitāsi vahasi kleçāya kiṁ maṇḍanam?‘The burden of thy bosom serves to weary thy waist; why then add the weight of thy necklace? Thy thighs are wearied by the bearing of thy hips; why then thy girdle of bells? Thy feet can barely carry the load of thy thighs; why add thine anklets? When in every limb thou dost possess such grace, why dost thou wear ornaments to thy weariness?’ Harṣa is also capable of expressing a deeper side of love, as when the king in theRatnāvalī31fancies that Vāsavadattā has been driven to suicide by his faithlessness:[181]samārūḍhaprītiḥ praṇayabahumānād anudinamvyalīkaṁ vīkṣyedaṁ kṛtam akṛtapūrvaṁ khalu mayāpriyā muñcaty adya sphuṭam asahanā jīvitam asauprakṛṣṭasya premṇaḥ skhalitam aviṣahyaṁ hi bhavati.‘My beloved, whose love for me waxed daily because of my affection and respect, has seen my falsity which she has never known before, and now assuredly she seeks to lay life aside in despair; for unendurable is a wrong against a noble love.’

Comparison with Kālidāsa is doubtless the cause why Harṣa has tended to receive less praise than is due to his dramas. The originality of his Nāṭikās is not perhaps great, but he has effectively devised the plot in both; the action moves smoothly and in either play there is ingenuity. The scene of the magician’s activity in theRatnāvalīis depicted with humour and vivacity; the parrot’s escape and its chatter are sketched with piquancy, and the exchange of costumes in theRatnāvalīis natural and effective. The double comedy in thePriyadarçikāis a happy thought, the intrigue in Act IV is neatly conducted, so as to show us Vāsavadattā in the light of an affectionate niece, and the scene with the bee is attractive. It is true that the plays are full of reminiscences of theMālavikāgnimitra, such as the escape in theRatnāvalīof the monkey, and the monkey that there frightens the little princess while Sāṁkṛtyāyanī is Kauçikī revived. But in this artificial comedy elegance is sought, not[176]originality,16and Harṣa is a clever borrower. The similarity of development of both plays is perhaps more to be condemned; they are too obviously variations of one theme.

The dominant emotion in either is love of the type which appertains to a noble and gay (dhīralalita) hero, who is always courteous, whose loves, that is to say, mean very little to him, and who does not forget to assure the old love of his devotion while playing with the new. This is a different aspect of Vatsa’s character from that displayed by Bhāsa, and admittedly a much inferior one. Vāsavadattā suffers equal deterioration, for she is no longer the wife who sacrifices herself for her husband’s good; she is rather a jealous, though noble and kind-hearted woman, whose love for her husband makes her resent too deeply his inconstancy. The heroines areingénueswith nothing but good looks and willingness to be loved by the king, whom they know, though he does not, to be destined by their fathers as their husband. In neither case is any adequate reason17suggested for the failure to declare themselves in their true character, unless we are to assume that they would not, in the absence of sponsors, have been believed. Susaṁgatā, the friend of the heroine in theRatnāvalī, is a pleasant, merry girl who makes excellent fun of her mistress. The Vidūṣaka18in both plays is typical in his greediness, but his figure lacks comic force; he is, however, a pleasant enough character, for his love for his master is genuine; he is prepared to die with him in theRatnāvalī, though he thinks his action in rushing into the fire quixotic. The magician is an amusing and clever sketch of great pretensions allied to some juggling skill.

TheNāgānandareveals Harṣa in a new light in the last two Acts. His liking for the marvellous is exhibited indeed in the last Acts of both the Nāṭikās in accord with the theory, but it has a far wider scope in theNāgānanda, where the supernatural freely appears, and, though the drama be Buddhist in inspiration, Gaurī is introduced to solve the difficulty of restoring[177]Jīmūtavāhana. Harṣa here rises to the task of depicting the emotions of self-sacrifice, charity, magnanimity, and resolution in the face of death; Jīmūtavāhana, however bizarre his setting, is one of the ideals of Buddhism, a man seized with the conviction that to sacrifice oneself for others is the highest duty. Çan̄khacūḍa and his mother too appear as noble in character, far superior to the savage Garuḍa. There is, it must be admitted, a decided lack of harmony between the two distinct parts of the drama, but the total effect is far from unsuccessful. Perhaps as a counterpoise to the seriousness of the last part, Harṣa has introduced effective comedy in Act III. The Vidūṣaka, Ātreya, is hideous and stupid; as he lies sleeping, covered by a mantle to protect him from the bees, the Viṭa, Çekharaka, sees him, mistakes him for his inamorata, embraces him and fondles him. Navamālikā enters, and, indignant, the Viṭa makes the Vidūṣaka, though a Brahmin, bow before her and drink alcohol. A little later Navamālikā makes fun of him before the newly married couple by painting his face with Tamūla juice.

Harṣa is fond of descriptions in the approved manner; the evening, midday, the park, the hermitage, the gardens, the fountain, the marriage festival, the hour for the bath, the mountain Malaya, the forest, the palace, are among the ordinary themes beloved in the Kāvya. In imagination and grace he is certainly inferior to Kālidāsa, but he possesses the great merit of simplicity of expression and thought; his Sanskrit is classical, and precise; his use of figures of speech and thought restrained and in good taste. There is fire in his description of a battle:19

astravyastaçirastraçastrakaṣaṇaiḥ kṛttottamān̄ge muhurvyūḍhāsṛksariti svanatpraharaṇair gharmodvamadvahniniāhūyājimukhe sa Kosalādhipatir bhagne pradhāne baleekenaiva Rumaṇvatā çaraçatair mattadvipastho hataḥ.

astravyastaçirastraçastrakaṣaṇaiḥ kṛttottamān̄ge muhur

vyūḍhāsṛksariti svanatpraharaṇair gharmodvamadvahnini

āhūyājimukhe sa Kosalādhipatir bhagne pradhāne bale

ekenaiva Rumaṇvatā çaraçatair mattadvipastho hataḥ.

‘Heads were cleft by the blows of swords on helmets sore smitten; blood flowed in torrents, fire flashed from the ringing strokes; when his main host had been broken, Rumaṇvant challenged in the forefront of the battle the lord of Kosala, who rode on a maddened elephant, and alone slew him with a hundred arrows.’ The matching of the sound to the sense[178]is admirable, while a delicate perception is evinced in the line describing the king’s success in soothing the wounded queen:20

savyājaiḥ çapathaiḥ priyeṇa vacasā cittānuvṛttyādhikamvailakṣyeṇa pareṇa padapatanair vākyaiḥ sakhīnāṁ muhuḥpratyāsattim upāgatā na hi tathā devī rudatyā yathāprakṣālyeva tayaiva bāṣpasalilaiḥ kopo ’panītaḥ svayam.

savyājaiḥ çapathaiḥ priyeṇa vacasā cittānuvṛttyādhikam

vailakṣyeṇa pareṇa padapatanair vākyaiḥ sakhīnāṁ muhuḥ

pratyāsattim upāgatā na hi tathā devī rudatyā yathā

prakṣālyeva tayaiva bāṣpasalilaiḥ kopo ’panītaḥ svayam.

‘It was not so much by my false oaths of devotion, my loving words, my coaxing, my depths of dejection, and falling at her feet, or the advice of her friends, that the queen was appeased as that her anger was wiped away by the cleansing water of her own bitter tears.’ Pretty, if not appropriate, is the king’s address to the fire:21

virama virama vahne muñca dhūmānubandham: prakaṭayasi kim uccair arciṣāṁ cakravālam?virahahutabhujāhaṁ yo na dagdhaḥ priyāyāḥ: pralayadahanabhāsā tasya kiṁ tvaṁ karoṣi?

virama virama vahne muñca dhūmānubandham: prakaṭayasi kim uccair arciṣāṁ cakravālam?

virahahutabhujāhaṁ yo na dagdhaḥ priyāyāḥ: pralayadahanabhāsā tasya kiṁ tvaṁ karoṣi?

‘Stay, stay, fire; cease thy constant smoke; why dost thou raise aloft thy circle of flames? What canst thou avail against me, whom the fire of severance from my beloved, fierce as the flame that shall consume the universe, could not consume?’ There is excellent taste and propriety in Vatsa’s address to the dead Kosala king:22mṛtyur api te çlāghyo yasya çatravo ’py evaṁ puruṣakāraṁ varṇayanti.‘Even death for thee is glorious when even thy foes must thus depict thy manly prowess.’ Such a phrase may reveal to us the true Harṣa himself, the winner of many victories, and the hero of one great disaster.

TheNāgānandastrikes varied notes; there is fire and enthusiasm in the assurances which Mitrāvasu gives the prince of the swift overthrow of his enemy, Matan̄ga, at the hands of his faithful Siddhas, will he but give the word:23

saṁsarpadbhiḥ samantāt kṛtasakalaviyanmārgayānair vimānaiḥkurvāṇāḥ prāvṛṣīva sthagitaravirucaḥ çyāmatāṁ vāsarasyaete yātāç ca sadyas tava vacanam itaḥ prāpya yuddhāya siddhāḥsiddhaṁ codvṛttaçatrukṣayabhayavinamadrājakaṁ te svarājyam.

saṁsarpadbhiḥ samantāt kṛtasakalaviyanmārgayānair vimānaiḥ

kurvāṇāḥ prāvṛṣīva sthagitaravirucaḥ çyāmatāṁ vāsarasya

ete yātāç ca sadyas tava vacanam itaḥ prāpya yuddhāya siddhāḥ

siddhaṁ codvṛttaçatrukṣayabhayavinamadrājakaṁ te svarājyam.

‘With their chariots, meeting together and o’erspreading the whole surface of the sky as they speed along, darkening the day[179]as when the sun’s rays are hidden in the rain, my Siddhas await but the bidding to fare forthwith hence to the battle; but say the word and thy haughty foe shall fall, and thy kingdom be restored to thee, while the princes bow before thee in fear of his fate.’

Jīmūtavāhana, however, has other views of his duty:24

svaçarīram api parārthe yaḥ khalu dadyām ayācitaḥ kṛpayārājyasya kṛte sa katham prāṇivadhakrauryam anumanye?

svaçarīram api parārthe yaḥ khalu dadyām ayācitaḥ kṛpayā

rājyasya kṛte sa katham prāṇivadhakrauryam anumanye?

‘Gladly, unasked, would I give my own life for another in compassion; how then could I consent to the cruel slaughter of men merely to win a realm?’ The saying is essential to the drama, for it leads immediately to the determination of the prince to sacrifice himself for the Nāga.

There is dignity and force in the admonition addressed by the dying hero to the repentant Garuḍa who begs him to command him:25

nityam prāṇātipātāt prativirama kuru prākkṛte cānutāpamyatnāt puṇyapravāhaṁ samupacinu diçan sarvasattveṣv abhītimmagnaṁ yenātra nainaḥ phalati parimitaprāṇihiṅsāttam etaddurgāḍhāpāravārer lavaṇapalam iva kṣiptam antar hradasya.

nityam prāṇātipātāt prativirama kuru prākkṛte cānutāpam

yatnāt puṇyapravāhaṁ samupacinu diçan sarvasattveṣv abhītim

magnaṁ yenātra nainaḥ phalati parimitaprāṇihiṅsāttam etad

durgāḍhāpāravārer lavaṇapalam iva kṣiptam antar hradasya.

‘Cease for ever from taking life; repent of thy past misdeeds; eagerly accumulate a store of merit, freeing all creatures from fear of thee, so that, lost in the infinite stream of thy goodness, the sin of slaying creatures, in number limited, may cease to fructify, even as a morsel of salt cast in the unfathomable depths of a great lake.’

Though Buddhist the drama, the benediction is enough to show how effectively the spirit of the Nāṭikā has been introduced into the legend:26

dhyānavyājam upetya cintayasi kām unmīlya cakṣuḥ kṣaṇam?paçyānan̄gaçarāturaṁ janam imaṁ trātāpi no rakṣasimithyākāruṇiko ’si nirghṛṇataras tvattaḥ kuto ’nyaḥ pumān?serṣyam Māravadhūbhir ity abhihito Buddho27jinaḥ pātu vaḥ.

dhyānavyājam upetya cintayasi kām unmīlya cakṣuḥ kṣaṇam?

paçyānan̄gaçarāturaṁ janam imaṁ trātāpi no rakṣasi

mithyākāruṇiko ’si nirghṛṇataras tvattaḥ kuto ’nyaḥ pumān?

serṣyam Māravadhūbhir ity abhihito Buddho27jinaḥ pātu vaḥ.

‘ “Feigned is thy trance; of what fair one dost thou think? Open thine eyes for a moment and gaze on us whom love doth[180]drive mad. Protector art thou; save thou us. False is thy compassion; could there be any man more pitiless than thou?” May he, whom Māra’s beauties thus addressed, the Buddha, the conqueror, protect you.’

But Harṣa’s chief merit is undoubtedly shown in erotic verses as in the description of the shyness of the new-made bride in theNāgānanda:28

dṛṣṭā dṛṣṭim adho dadhāti kurute nālāpam ābhāṣitāçayyāyām parivṛtya tiṣṭhati balād ālin̄gitā vepateniryāntīṣu sakhīṣu vāsabhavanān nirgantum evehatejātā vāmatayaiva me ’dya sutarām prītyai navoḍhā priyā.

dṛṣṭā dṛṣṭim adho dadhāti kurute nālāpam ābhāṣitā

çayyāyām parivṛtya tiṣṭhati balād ālin̄gitā vepate

niryāntīṣu sakhīṣu vāsabhavanān nirgantum evehate

jātā vāmatayaiva me ’dya sutarām prītyai navoḍhā priyā.

‘Looked at, she casts down her face; addressed, she gives no reply; with head averted she lies on the couch; forcibly embraced, she trembles; when her maidens leave her chamber, she seeks also to depart; perverse though she be, my new-wed love delights me more and more.’ The accuracy of the aim of love as an archer is described in theRatnāvalī:29

manaḥ prakṛtyaiva calaṁ durlakṣyaṁ ca tathāpi meanan̄gena kathaṁ viddhaṁ samaṁ sarvaçilīmukhāiḥ.

manaḥ prakṛtyaiva calaṁ durlakṣyaṁ ca tathāpi me

anan̄gena kathaṁ viddhaṁ samaṁ sarvaçilīmukhāiḥ.

‘Mind is naturally mobile and hard to find; nevertheless mine has been pierced by love at once with all his darts.’ In entire harmony with Indian taste Harṣa dwells on the points of physical perfection in the adored one in theNāgānanda:30

khedāya stanabhāra eṣa kim u te madhyasya hāro ’parastāmyaty ūruyugaṁ nitambabharataḥ kāñcyānayā kim punaḥçaktiḥ padayugasya noruyugalaṁ voḍhuṁ kuto nūpurausvān̄gair eva vibhūṣitāsi vahasi kleçāya kiṁ maṇḍanam?

khedāya stanabhāra eṣa kim u te madhyasya hāro ’paras

tāmyaty ūruyugaṁ nitambabharataḥ kāñcyānayā kim punaḥ

çaktiḥ padayugasya noruyugalaṁ voḍhuṁ kuto nūpurau

svān̄gair eva vibhūṣitāsi vahasi kleçāya kiṁ maṇḍanam?

‘The burden of thy bosom serves to weary thy waist; why then add the weight of thy necklace? Thy thighs are wearied by the bearing of thy hips; why then thy girdle of bells? Thy feet can barely carry the load of thy thighs; why add thine anklets? When in every limb thou dost possess such grace, why dost thou wear ornaments to thy weariness?’ Harṣa is also capable of expressing a deeper side of love, as when the king in theRatnāvalī31fancies that Vāsavadattā has been driven to suicide by his faithlessness:[181]

samārūḍhaprītiḥ praṇayabahumānād anudinamvyalīkaṁ vīkṣyedaṁ kṛtam akṛtapūrvaṁ khalu mayāpriyā muñcaty adya sphuṭam asahanā jīvitam asauprakṛṣṭasya premṇaḥ skhalitam aviṣahyaṁ hi bhavati.

samārūḍhaprītiḥ praṇayabahumānād anudinam

vyalīkaṁ vīkṣyedaṁ kṛtam akṛtapūrvaṁ khalu mayā

priyā muñcaty adya sphuṭam asahanā jīvitam asau

prakṛṣṭasya premṇaḥ skhalitam aviṣahyaṁ hi bhavati.

‘My beloved, whose love for me waxed daily because of my affection and respect, has seen my falsity which she has never known before, and now assuredly she seeks to lay life aside in despair; for unendurable is a wrong against a noble love.’

[Contents]5.The Language and the Metres of Harṣa’s DramasHarṣa’s Sanskrit is of the usual classical type, eschewing any deviation from the beaten paths, and his Prākrits, mainly Çaurasenī with Māhārāṣṭrī in the verses, offer nothing of special interest, beyond evidence of his careful study of Prākrit grammar.32His use of metrical forms, on the other hand, marks the tendency to reject the simplicity of the earlier dramatists, and to insist on the use of the more elaborate metres, which in themselves are wholly undramatic, but give a much wider range of opportunity for the exhibition of merits of description. Harṣa’s favourite is the Çārdūlavikrīḍita, which occurs 23 times in theRatnāvalī, 20 times in thePriyadarçikā, and 30 times in theNāgānanda; the Sragdharā takes second place with 11, 8, and 17 occurrences. The Çloka occurs in theRatnāvalī(9)and the Nāgānanda (24), the frequency in the latter being due to the more epic character of the piece; its absence from thePriyadarçikāis marked. The Āryā occurs 9 times each in the Nāṭikās, and 16 times in theNāgānanda. ThePriyadarçikāsuggests by its content immaturity, and its poverty in metres supports this view; it has but seven in all, including Indravajrā, Vasantatilaka (6), Mālinī, and Çikhariṇī. TheNāgānandahas also Çālinī and Hariṇī, in common with theRatnāvalī, and Drutavilambita, while theRatnāvalīadds Puṣpitāgrā, Pṛthvī, and Praharṣiṇī. That play has 5 Prākrit Āryās and 1 Gīti, the other two 3 Āryās apiece, while theRatnāvalīcontains a pretty pair of rhymed verses, each with Pādas of 12 morae.[182]

5.The Language and the Metres of Harṣa’s Dramas

Harṣa’s Sanskrit is of the usual classical type, eschewing any deviation from the beaten paths, and his Prākrits, mainly Çaurasenī with Māhārāṣṭrī in the verses, offer nothing of special interest, beyond evidence of his careful study of Prākrit grammar.32His use of metrical forms, on the other hand, marks the tendency to reject the simplicity of the earlier dramatists, and to insist on the use of the more elaborate metres, which in themselves are wholly undramatic, but give a much wider range of opportunity for the exhibition of merits of description. Harṣa’s favourite is the Çārdūlavikrīḍita, which occurs 23 times in theRatnāvalī, 20 times in thePriyadarçikā, and 30 times in theNāgānanda; the Sragdharā takes second place with 11, 8, and 17 occurrences. The Çloka occurs in theRatnāvalī(9)and the Nāgānanda (24), the frequency in the latter being due to the more epic character of the piece; its absence from thePriyadarçikāis marked. The Āryā occurs 9 times each in the Nāṭikās, and 16 times in theNāgānanda. ThePriyadarçikāsuggests by its content immaturity, and its poverty in metres supports this view; it has but seven in all, including Indravajrā, Vasantatilaka (6), Mālinī, and Çikhariṇī. TheNāgānandahas also Çālinī and Hariṇī, in common with theRatnāvalī, and Drutavilambita, while theRatnāvalīadds Puṣpitāgrā, Pṛthvī, and Praharṣiṇī. That play has 5 Prākrit Āryās and 1 Gīti, the other two 3 Āryās apiece, while theRatnāvalīcontains a pretty pair of rhymed verses, each with Pādas of 12 morae.[182]

Harṣa’s Sanskrit is of the usual classical type, eschewing any deviation from the beaten paths, and his Prākrits, mainly Çaurasenī with Māhārāṣṭrī in the verses, offer nothing of special interest, beyond evidence of his careful study of Prākrit grammar.32

His use of metrical forms, on the other hand, marks the tendency to reject the simplicity of the earlier dramatists, and to insist on the use of the more elaborate metres, which in themselves are wholly undramatic, but give a much wider range of opportunity for the exhibition of merits of description. Harṣa’s favourite is the Çārdūlavikrīḍita, which occurs 23 times in theRatnāvalī, 20 times in thePriyadarçikā, and 30 times in theNāgānanda; the Sragdharā takes second place with 11, 8, and 17 occurrences. The Çloka occurs in theRatnāvalī(9)and the Nāgānanda (24), the frequency in the latter being due to the more epic character of the piece; its absence from thePriyadarçikāis marked. The Āryā occurs 9 times each in the Nāṭikās, and 16 times in theNāgānanda. ThePriyadarçikāsuggests by its content immaturity, and its poverty in metres supports this view; it has but seven in all, including Indravajrā, Vasantatilaka (6), Mālinī, and Çikhariṇī. TheNāgānandahas also Çālinī and Hariṇī, in common with theRatnāvalī, and Drutavilambita, while theRatnāvalīadds Puṣpitāgrā, Pṛthvī, and Praharṣiṇī. That play has 5 Prākrit Āryās and 1 Gīti, the other two 3 Āryās apiece, while theRatnāvalīcontains a pretty pair of rhymed verses, each with Pādas of 12 morae.[182]

[Contents]6.MahendravikramavarmanAlmost a contemporary to a day of Harṣa was Mahendravikramavarman, son of the Pallava king Siṅhaviṣṇuvarman, and himself a king with the styles of Avanibhājana, Guṇabhara, and Mattavilāsa, all alluded to in his play,33who ruled in Kāñcī, the scene of his drama, in the first quarter of the seventh centuryA.D.34Chance rather than any special merit has preserved for us his Prahasana,35which is so far the only early farce published, and which has special interest as it comes from the south, and, as we have seen, shows signs of the same technique as that of Bhāsa. Thus the play is opened by the director at the close of the Nāndī, which is not preserved, and the prologue is styled Sthāpanā, and not, as usual, Prastāvanā. We have also a reference to Karpaṭa as the writer of a text-book for thieves, as in theCārudattaof Bhāsa, but there is an essential difference in the fact that great care is taken in the prologue to set out at length the merits of the author as well as the name of the drama.The director introduces the play by a dialogue in which he by skilled flattery induces his first wife to aid him in the work, despite her annoyance at his taking to himself of a younger bride, and the transition to the actual drama is accomplished as in Bhāsa by his being interrupted in the midst of a verse by a cry from behind the scene, which leads him to complete his stanza by mentioning the appearance of the chief actor and his companion. They are a Çaiva mendicant of the skull-bearing order, a Kapālin, and his damsel, Devasomā by name. Both are intoxicated, and the maiden asks for her companion’s aid to prevent her from falling; he would hold her if he could, but his own condition hinders aid; in remorse he proposes to forswear strong drink, but the lady entreats him not for her sake thus to break[183]his penance, and he joyfully abandons the rash project, praising instead his rule of life:36peyā surā priyatamāmukham īkṣitavyam: grāhyaḥ svabhāvalalito ’vikṛtaç ca veṣaḥyenedam īdṛçam adṛçyata mokṣavartma: dīrghayur astu bhagavān sa pinākapaṇiḥ.‘Long live the god who bears the trident and who has revealed to men this as the way of salvation, to drink brandy, to gaze on the face of one’s beloved, to wear beautiful and becoming raiment.’ He is reminded by his companions that the Arhants have a very different definition of the path of salvation, but he has little trouble in disposing of them:kāryasya niḥsaṁçayam ātmahetoḥ: sarūpatāṁ hetubhir abhyupetyaduḥkhasya kāryaṁ sukham āmanantaḥ: svenaiva vākyena hatā varākāḥ.‘They establish that an effect, as self-caused, is of the same nature as its causes; when, therefore, they declare that pleasure is the effect of pain, the poor fools contradict their own dogmas.’ There follows a complimentary description of Kāñcī, and a careful parallel between the tavern where the pair are seeking more charity and a scene of sacrifice; the Kapālin also discovers that Surā has a celestial origin; it is none other than the form taken by the god of love when burnt by the flame from Çiva’s eye, a conclusion heartily accepted by his friend. The two are successful in attaining alms, but the tragic discovery is made that the skull, which serves as begging bowl, and which seems indeed at first to be theraison d’êtreof the Kapālin, is lost, though he consoles himself by reflecting that it was only a sign and that his occupation is still intact. A search through Kāñcī follows, and suspicion falls on a Buddhist monk, Çākyabhikṣu, who is lamenting the fact that despite the excellent fare he has received the law forbids the enjoyment of strong drink and women; he concludes that the true gospel of the Buddha contained no such ridiculous restrictions, and expresses his desire to benefit the whole community by discovering the authentic text.[184]Naturally, when challenged, he denies that his begging bowl is that of the Kapālin, and blesses the master for his good sense in insisting on shaving the head, since it prevents the damsel from succeeding in her well-meant effort to aid her companion by pulling his hair. His arguments as to the identity of his bowl are unconvincing to the Kapālin:dṛṣṭāni vastūni mahīsamudra—: mahīdharādīni mahānti mohātapahnuvānasya sutaḥ kathaṁ tvam: alpaṁ na nihnotum alaṁ kapālam?‘Thou art the son of one who denies in his folly things that we see, the earth, the ocean, mountains and so forth; how then art thou not ready to deny so small a thing as a bowl?’ Moreover, when the Buddhist, politely and with commendable charity, picks up Devasomā when her fruitless assault on his locks lands her on the ground, he accuses him of taking her in marriage and invokes punishment on this violator of the rights of Brahmins. A Pāçupata, a more respectable type of Çaiva sectarian, comes on the scene and is appealed to as an arbitrator, but finds the task too difficult; both claimants proudly assert their adherence to a creed which forbids lying, and the Buddhist recites in addition the whole list of moral rules which makes up the Çikṣāpada. The obvious arguments from colour and shape in favour of the Buddhist are made out by his rival to be no more than signs of his skill in changing objects at pleasure. Finally the Pāçupata suggests that they must take the matter before a court.En route, however, a diversion is made by an Unmattaka, or madman, who has rescued the skull from a dog, the real thief; he first appears willing to give it as a present to the Pāçupata, who haughtily rejects the horrible object, but suggests the Kapālin as the recipient; then he changes his mind, but, annoyed by the cry of ‘mad’, asks the Kapālin to hold the skull and to show him the madman; the Kapālin, nothing loth, accepts the skull, and misdirects the madman. All are now happy; the Kapālin makes a handsome apology to the Buddhist monk, and the usual Bharatavākya with a reference to the ruling king, the author, concludes the work.The author undoubtedly shows a considerable knowledge of the tenets of the Buddhists, and the play is not unamusing,[185]though the subject is much too trivial for the pains taken to deal with it. The style is certainly appropriate to the subject-matter; it is like that of Harṣa, simple and elegant, while many of the verses are not without force and beauty. In the prose speeches of the Kapālin, however, we have occasional premonitions37of the unwieldy compounds of Bhavabhūti. There is, as in all the later Prahasanas, a certain incongruity between the triviality of the subject-matter and the elaboration of the form but the king has the merit of avoiding the gross vulgarity which marks normally the later works of this type.Short as is the play, it shows a variety of Prākrits, for of thedramatis personaeonly the Kapālin and the Pāçupata speak Sanskrit, while the madman, the Buddhist, and Devasomā talk in Prākrit. That of the Buddhist and of Devasomā is practically Çaurasenī, but the madman uses Māgadhī.38The Prākrits show some of the signs of antiquity which have been seen in Bhāsa’s dramas; thus forms of the plural ināṇiandññin lieu ofṇṇare found, doubtless as a result of the influence of Bhāsa. The frequency of such forms asaho nu khaluandkiṁ nu khaluis precisely in the manner of Bhāsa, and mention may be made of the employment ofmāwith the infinitive in Prākrit in a prohibition.The variety of metres is large in view of the brief extent of the play. There are nine different stanzas employed; five each of the Çloka and Çārdūlavikrīḍita, three each of Indravajrā type and Āryā, two each of Vaṅçasthā type and Vasantatilaka, the solitary Prākrit verse being of the former kind, and one each of Rucirā, Mālinī, and Sragdharā.39[186]

6.Mahendravikramavarman

Almost a contemporary to a day of Harṣa was Mahendravikramavarman, son of the Pallava king Siṅhaviṣṇuvarman, and himself a king with the styles of Avanibhājana, Guṇabhara, and Mattavilāsa, all alluded to in his play,33who ruled in Kāñcī, the scene of his drama, in the first quarter of the seventh centuryA.D.34Chance rather than any special merit has preserved for us his Prahasana,35which is so far the only early farce published, and which has special interest as it comes from the south, and, as we have seen, shows signs of the same technique as that of Bhāsa. Thus the play is opened by the director at the close of the Nāndī, which is not preserved, and the prologue is styled Sthāpanā, and not, as usual, Prastāvanā. We have also a reference to Karpaṭa as the writer of a text-book for thieves, as in theCārudattaof Bhāsa, but there is an essential difference in the fact that great care is taken in the prologue to set out at length the merits of the author as well as the name of the drama.The director introduces the play by a dialogue in which he by skilled flattery induces his first wife to aid him in the work, despite her annoyance at his taking to himself of a younger bride, and the transition to the actual drama is accomplished as in Bhāsa by his being interrupted in the midst of a verse by a cry from behind the scene, which leads him to complete his stanza by mentioning the appearance of the chief actor and his companion. They are a Çaiva mendicant of the skull-bearing order, a Kapālin, and his damsel, Devasomā by name. Both are intoxicated, and the maiden asks for her companion’s aid to prevent her from falling; he would hold her if he could, but his own condition hinders aid; in remorse he proposes to forswear strong drink, but the lady entreats him not for her sake thus to break[183]his penance, and he joyfully abandons the rash project, praising instead his rule of life:36peyā surā priyatamāmukham īkṣitavyam: grāhyaḥ svabhāvalalito ’vikṛtaç ca veṣaḥyenedam īdṛçam adṛçyata mokṣavartma: dīrghayur astu bhagavān sa pinākapaṇiḥ.‘Long live the god who bears the trident and who has revealed to men this as the way of salvation, to drink brandy, to gaze on the face of one’s beloved, to wear beautiful and becoming raiment.’ He is reminded by his companions that the Arhants have a very different definition of the path of salvation, but he has little trouble in disposing of them:kāryasya niḥsaṁçayam ātmahetoḥ: sarūpatāṁ hetubhir abhyupetyaduḥkhasya kāryaṁ sukham āmanantaḥ: svenaiva vākyena hatā varākāḥ.‘They establish that an effect, as self-caused, is of the same nature as its causes; when, therefore, they declare that pleasure is the effect of pain, the poor fools contradict their own dogmas.’ There follows a complimentary description of Kāñcī, and a careful parallel between the tavern where the pair are seeking more charity and a scene of sacrifice; the Kapālin also discovers that Surā has a celestial origin; it is none other than the form taken by the god of love when burnt by the flame from Çiva’s eye, a conclusion heartily accepted by his friend. The two are successful in attaining alms, but the tragic discovery is made that the skull, which serves as begging bowl, and which seems indeed at first to be theraison d’êtreof the Kapālin, is lost, though he consoles himself by reflecting that it was only a sign and that his occupation is still intact. A search through Kāñcī follows, and suspicion falls on a Buddhist monk, Çākyabhikṣu, who is lamenting the fact that despite the excellent fare he has received the law forbids the enjoyment of strong drink and women; he concludes that the true gospel of the Buddha contained no such ridiculous restrictions, and expresses his desire to benefit the whole community by discovering the authentic text.[184]Naturally, when challenged, he denies that his begging bowl is that of the Kapālin, and blesses the master for his good sense in insisting on shaving the head, since it prevents the damsel from succeeding in her well-meant effort to aid her companion by pulling his hair. His arguments as to the identity of his bowl are unconvincing to the Kapālin:dṛṣṭāni vastūni mahīsamudra—: mahīdharādīni mahānti mohātapahnuvānasya sutaḥ kathaṁ tvam: alpaṁ na nihnotum alaṁ kapālam?‘Thou art the son of one who denies in his folly things that we see, the earth, the ocean, mountains and so forth; how then art thou not ready to deny so small a thing as a bowl?’ Moreover, when the Buddhist, politely and with commendable charity, picks up Devasomā when her fruitless assault on his locks lands her on the ground, he accuses him of taking her in marriage and invokes punishment on this violator of the rights of Brahmins. A Pāçupata, a more respectable type of Çaiva sectarian, comes on the scene and is appealed to as an arbitrator, but finds the task too difficult; both claimants proudly assert their adherence to a creed which forbids lying, and the Buddhist recites in addition the whole list of moral rules which makes up the Çikṣāpada. The obvious arguments from colour and shape in favour of the Buddhist are made out by his rival to be no more than signs of his skill in changing objects at pleasure. Finally the Pāçupata suggests that they must take the matter before a court.En route, however, a diversion is made by an Unmattaka, or madman, who has rescued the skull from a dog, the real thief; he first appears willing to give it as a present to the Pāçupata, who haughtily rejects the horrible object, but suggests the Kapālin as the recipient; then he changes his mind, but, annoyed by the cry of ‘mad’, asks the Kapālin to hold the skull and to show him the madman; the Kapālin, nothing loth, accepts the skull, and misdirects the madman. All are now happy; the Kapālin makes a handsome apology to the Buddhist monk, and the usual Bharatavākya with a reference to the ruling king, the author, concludes the work.The author undoubtedly shows a considerable knowledge of the tenets of the Buddhists, and the play is not unamusing,[185]though the subject is much too trivial for the pains taken to deal with it. The style is certainly appropriate to the subject-matter; it is like that of Harṣa, simple and elegant, while many of the verses are not without force and beauty. In the prose speeches of the Kapālin, however, we have occasional premonitions37of the unwieldy compounds of Bhavabhūti. There is, as in all the later Prahasanas, a certain incongruity between the triviality of the subject-matter and the elaboration of the form but the king has the merit of avoiding the gross vulgarity which marks normally the later works of this type.Short as is the play, it shows a variety of Prākrits, for of thedramatis personaeonly the Kapālin and the Pāçupata speak Sanskrit, while the madman, the Buddhist, and Devasomā talk in Prākrit. That of the Buddhist and of Devasomā is practically Çaurasenī, but the madman uses Māgadhī.38The Prākrits show some of the signs of antiquity which have been seen in Bhāsa’s dramas; thus forms of the plural ināṇiandññin lieu ofṇṇare found, doubtless as a result of the influence of Bhāsa. The frequency of such forms asaho nu khaluandkiṁ nu khaluis precisely in the manner of Bhāsa, and mention may be made of the employment ofmāwith the infinitive in Prākrit in a prohibition.The variety of metres is large in view of the brief extent of the play. There are nine different stanzas employed; five each of the Çloka and Çārdūlavikrīḍita, three each of Indravajrā type and Āryā, two each of Vaṅçasthā type and Vasantatilaka, the solitary Prākrit verse being of the former kind, and one each of Rucirā, Mālinī, and Sragdharā.39[186]

Almost a contemporary to a day of Harṣa was Mahendravikramavarman, son of the Pallava king Siṅhaviṣṇuvarman, and himself a king with the styles of Avanibhājana, Guṇabhara, and Mattavilāsa, all alluded to in his play,33who ruled in Kāñcī, the scene of his drama, in the first quarter of the seventh centuryA.D.34Chance rather than any special merit has preserved for us his Prahasana,35which is so far the only early farce published, and which has special interest as it comes from the south, and, as we have seen, shows signs of the same technique as that of Bhāsa. Thus the play is opened by the director at the close of the Nāndī, which is not preserved, and the prologue is styled Sthāpanā, and not, as usual, Prastāvanā. We have also a reference to Karpaṭa as the writer of a text-book for thieves, as in theCārudattaof Bhāsa, but there is an essential difference in the fact that great care is taken in the prologue to set out at length the merits of the author as well as the name of the drama.

The director introduces the play by a dialogue in which he by skilled flattery induces his first wife to aid him in the work, despite her annoyance at his taking to himself of a younger bride, and the transition to the actual drama is accomplished as in Bhāsa by his being interrupted in the midst of a verse by a cry from behind the scene, which leads him to complete his stanza by mentioning the appearance of the chief actor and his companion. They are a Çaiva mendicant of the skull-bearing order, a Kapālin, and his damsel, Devasomā by name. Both are intoxicated, and the maiden asks for her companion’s aid to prevent her from falling; he would hold her if he could, but his own condition hinders aid; in remorse he proposes to forswear strong drink, but the lady entreats him not for her sake thus to break[183]his penance, and he joyfully abandons the rash project, praising instead his rule of life:36

peyā surā priyatamāmukham īkṣitavyam: grāhyaḥ svabhāvalalito ’vikṛtaç ca veṣaḥyenedam īdṛçam adṛçyata mokṣavartma: dīrghayur astu bhagavān sa pinākapaṇiḥ.

peyā surā priyatamāmukham īkṣitavyam: grāhyaḥ svabhāvalalito ’vikṛtaç ca veṣaḥ

yenedam īdṛçam adṛçyata mokṣavartma: dīrghayur astu bhagavān sa pinākapaṇiḥ.

‘Long live the god who bears the trident and who has revealed to men this as the way of salvation, to drink brandy, to gaze on the face of one’s beloved, to wear beautiful and becoming raiment.’ He is reminded by his companions that the Arhants have a very different definition of the path of salvation, but he has little trouble in disposing of them:

kāryasya niḥsaṁçayam ātmahetoḥ: sarūpatāṁ hetubhir abhyupetyaduḥkhasya kāryaṁ sukham āmanantaḥ: svenaiva vākyena hatā varākāḥ.

kāryasya niḥsaṁçayam ātmahetoḥ: sarūpatāṁ hetubhir abhyupetya

duḥkhasya kāryaṁ sukham āmanantaḥ: svenaiva vākyena hatā varākāḥ.

‘They establish that an effect, as self-caused, is of the same nature as its causes; when, therefore, they declare that pleasure is the effect of pain, the poor fools contradict their own dogmas.’ There follows a complimentary description of Kāñcī, and a careful parallel between the tavern where the pair are seeking more charity and a scene of sacrifice; the Kapālin also discovers that Surā has a celestial origin; it is none other than the form taken by the god of love when burnt by the flame from Çiva’s eye, a conclusion heartily accepted by his friend. The two are successful in attaining alms, but the tragic discovery is made that the skull, which serves as begging bowl, and which seems indeed at first to be theraison d’êtreof the Kapālin, is lost, though he consoles himself by reflecting that it was only a sign and that his occupation is still intact. A search through Kāñcī follows, and suspicion falls on a Buddhist monk, Çākyabhikṣu, who is lamenting the fact that despite the excellent fare he has received the law forbids the enjoyment of strong drink and women; he concludes that the true gospel of the Buddha contained no such ridiculous restrictions, and expresses his desire to benefit the whole community by discovering the authentic text.[184]Naturally, when challenged, he denies that his begging bowl is that of the Kapālin, and blesses the master for his good sense in insisting on shaving the head, since it prevents the damsel from succeeding in her well-meant effort to aid her companion by pulling his hair. His arguments as to the identity of his bowl are unconvincing to the Kapālin:

dṛṣṭāni vastūni mahīsamudra—: mahīdharādīni mahānti mohātapahnuvānasya sutaḥ kathaṁ tvam: alpaṁ na nihnotum alaṁ kapālam?

dṛṣṭāni vastūni mahīsamudra—: mahīdharādīni mahānti mohāt

apahnuvānasya sutaḥ kathaṁ tvam: alpaṁ na nihnotum alaṁ kapālam?

‘Thou art the son of one who denies in his folly things that we see, the earth, the ocean, mountains and so forth; how then art thou not ready to deny so small a thing as a bowl?’ Moreover, when the Buddhist, politely and with commendable charity, picks up Devasomā when her fruitless assault on his locks lands her on the ground, he accuses him of taking her in marriage and invokes punishment on this violator of the rights of Brahmins. A Pāçupata, a more respectable type of Çaiva sectarian, comes on the scene and is appealed to as an arbitrator, but finds the task too difficult; both claimants proudly assert their adherence to a creed which forbids lying, and the Buddhist recites in addition the whole list of moral rules which makes up the Çikṣāpada. The obvious arguments from colour and shape in favour of the Buddhist are made out by his rival to be no more than signs of his skill in changing objects at pleasure. Finally the Pāçupata suggests that they must take the matter before a court.En route, however, a diversion is made by an Unmattaka, or madman, who has rescued the skull from a dog, the real thief; he first appears willing to give it as a present to the Pāçupata, who haughtily rejects the horrible object, but suggests the Kapālin as the recipient; then he changes his mind, but, annoyed by the cry of ‘mad’, asks the Kapālin to hold the skull and to show him the madman; the Kapālin, nothing loth, accepts the skull, and misdirects the madman. All are now happy; the Kapālin makes a handsome apology to the Buddhist monk, and the usual Bharatavākya with a reference to the ruling king, the author, concludes the work.

The author undoubtedly shows a considerable knowledge of the tenets of the Buddhists, and the play is not unamusing,[185]though the subject is much too trivial for the pains taken to deal with it. The style is certainly appropriate to the subject-matter; it is like that of Harṣa, simple and elegant, while many of the verses are not without force and beauty. In the prose speeches of the Kapālin, however, we have occasional premonitions37of the unwieldy compounds of Bhavabhūti. There is, as in all the later Prahasanas, a certain incongruity between the triviality of the subject-matter and the elaboration of the form but the king has the merit of avoiding the gross vulgarity which marks normally the later works of this type.

Short as is the play, it shows a variety of Prākrits, for of thedramatis personaeonly the Kapālin and the Pāçupata speak Sanskrit, while the madman, the Buddhist, and Devasomā talk in Prākrit. That of the Buddhist and of Devasomā is practically Çaurasenī, but the madman uses Māgadhī.38The Prākrits show some of the signs of antiquity which have been seen in Bhāsa’s dramas; thus forms of the plural ināṇiandññin lieu ofṇṇare found, doubtless as a result of the influence of Bhāsa. The frequency of such forms asaho nu khaluandkiṁ nu khaluis precisely in the manner of Bhāsa, and mention may be made of the employment ofmāwith the infinitive in Prākrit in a prohibition.

The variety of metres is large in view of the brief extent of the play. There are nine different stanzas employed; five each of the Çloka and Çārdūlavikrīḍita, three each of Indravajrā type and Āryā, two each of Vaṅçasthā type and Vasantatilaka, the solitary Prākrit verse being of the former kind, and one each of Rucirā, Mālinī, and Sragdharā.39[186]

1Lévi, BEFEO. iii. 38 f.; Liebich,Das Datum des Candragomin und Kalidasas; Konow, ID. pp. 72 f.; GIL. iii. 185, 399 f.↑2v. 2275.↑3v. 1629.↑4p. 163;Subhāṣitāvali, 1916;Çārn̄gadhara, cxvii. 14; text uncertain.↑5Subhāṣitāvali, 66.↑6Subhāṣitāvali, 69.↑7M. Ettinghausen,Harṣa Vardhana, Louvain, 1905; S. P. Paṇḍit,Gaüdavaho, pp. cvii ff.; K. M. Panikkar,Sri Harsha of Kanauj, Bombay, 1922. It is impossible to connect the dramas with any definite incident of his reign such as the Prayāga festival celebrated by Hiuan-Tsang.↑8i. 2. Cf. Soḍhala (A.D.993) inKāvyamīmāṅsā(GOS. i), p. xii.↑9Trs. Takakusu, pp. 163 f.↑10vv. 856 ff.↑11Ed. C. Cappeller, Böhtlingk,Sanskrit-Chrestomathie, 3rd ed., pp. 326 ff.; trs. Wilson, ii. 255 ff.; L. Fritze, Schloss Chemnitz, 1878. It was performed at a spring festival of Kāma.↑12Ed. R. V. Krishnamachariar, Srirangam, 1906; trs. G. Strehly, Paris, 1888.↑13Ed. Calcutta, 1886; TSS. 1917; trs. P. Boyd, London, 1872; A. Bergaigne, Paris, 1879; E. Teza, Milan, 1904.↑14KSS. xxii. 16–257; xc. 3–201; BKM. iv. 50–108; ix. 2. 776–930.↑15xv.↑16Many traces of theSvapnavāsavadattācan be seen in theRatnāvalī, especially in the characterization of the Vidūṣaka.↑17Āraṇyikā suggests that assertion would be undignified, seeing her actual condition. In theMālavikāgnimitraa prophecy is made to do service as a motif.↑18Cf. Schuyler, JAOS. xx. 338 ff.↑19Ratnāvalī, iv. 6.↑20Ratnāvalī, iv. 1.↑21Ibid., iv. 16.↑22Ibid., iv. 6/7. Cf.Priyadarçikā, i. on Vindhyaketu’s death.↑23iii. 15.↑24iii. 17.↑25v. 25.↑26i. 1.↑27Orbodhau, ‘on his enlightenment.’↑28iii. 4.↑29iii. 2.↑30iv. 7.↑31iii. 15.↑32Māgadhī is found in theNāgānandaspoken by the servant. On the variation of forms in the northern and southern editions see Barnett, JRAS. 1921, p. 589.↑33TheMattavilāsa, ed. TSS. lv. 1917.↑34EI. iv. 152;South Ind. Inscr.i. 29 f.; G. Jouveau-Dubreuil,The Pallavas, pp. 37 ff.↑35ASarvacaritais attributed to a Bāṇa in Rājarāma Çastrin’sSūcīpatra, but it may really be Vāmana Bhaṭṭa Bāṇa’s as is thePārvatīpariṇaya(against Ettinghausen,Harṣa Vardhana, pp. 122 f.). TheMukuṭatāḍitakaof Bāṇa is cited in Caṇḍapāla’s comm. on theNalacampū, p. 227.↑36This verse is attributed to Bhāsa by Somadeva in hisYaçastilaka; Peterson,Reports, ii. 46.↑37pp. 7, 8, 9.↑38So the Unmattaka in thePratijñāyaugandharāyaṇaof Bhāsa.↑39Antiquity is claimed by the editors ofCaturbhāṇī(1922) for the Bhāṇas,Ubhayābhisārikāof Vararuci,Padmaprābhṛtakaof Çūdraka,Dhūrtaviṭasaṁvādaof Īçvaradatta,Pādatāḍitakaof Ārya Çyāmilaka, but no reliance can be placed on the first two ascriptions, and none of the plays need be older than 1000A.D.Their technique is similar to that of theMattavilāsa.↑

1Lévi, BEFEO. iii. 38 f.; Liebich,Das Datum des Candragomin und Kalidasas; Konow, ID. pp. 72 f.; GIL. iii. 185, 399 f.↑2v. 2275.↑3v. 1629.↑4p. 163;Subhāṣitāvali, 1916;Çārn̄gadhara, cxvii. 14; text uncertain.↑5Subhāṣitāvali, 66.↑6Subhāṣitāvali, 69.↑7M. Ettinghausen,Harṣa Vardhana, Louvain, 1905; S. P. Paṇḍit,Gaüdavaho, pp. cvii ff.; K. M. Panikkar,Sri Harsha of Kanauj, Bombay, 1922. It is impossible to connect the dramas with any definite incident of his reign such as the Prayāga festival celebrated by Hiuan-Tsang.↑8i. 2. Cf. Soḍhala (A.D.993) inKāvyamīmāṅsā(GOS. i), p. xii.↑9Trs. Takakusu, pp. 163 f.↑10vv. 856 ff.↑11Ed. C. Cappeller, Böhtlingk,Sanskrit-Chrestomathie, 3rd ed., pp. 326 ff.; trs. Wilson, ii. 255 ff.; L. Fritze, Schloss Chemnitz, 1878. It was performed at a spring festival of Kāma.↑12Ed. R. V. Krishnamachariar, Srirangam, 1906; trs. G. Strehly, Paris, 1888.↑13Ed. Calcutta, 1886; TSS. 1917; trs. P. Boyd, London, 1872; A. Bergaigne, Paris, 1879; E. Teza, Milan, 1904.↑14KSS. xxii. 16–257; xc. 3–201; BKM. iv. 50–108; ix. 2. 776–930.↑15xv.↑16Many traces of theSvapnavāsavadattācan be seen in theRatnāvalī, especially in the characterization of the Vidūṣaka.↑17Āraṇyikā suggests that assertion would be undignified, seeing her actual condition. In theMālavikāgnimitraa prophecy is made to do service as a motif.↑18Cf. Schuyler, JAOS. xx. 338 ff.↑19Ratnāvalī, iv. 6.↑20Ratnāvalī, iv. 1.↑21Ibid., iv. 16.↑22Ibid., iv. 6/7. Cf.Priyadarçikā, i. on Vindhyaketu’s death.↑23iii. 15.↑24iii. 17.↑25v. 25.↑26i. 1.↑27Orbodhau, ‘on his enlightenment.’↑28iii. 4.↑29iii. 2.↑30iv. 7.↑31iii. 15.↑32Māgadhī is found in theNāgānandaspoken by the servant. On the variation of forms in the northern and southern editions see Barnett, JRAS. 1921, p. 589.↑33TheMattavilāsa, ed. TSS. lv. 1917.↑34EI. iv. 152;South Ind. Inscr.i. 29 f.; G. Jouveau-Dubreuil,The Pallavas, pp. 37 ff.↑35ASarvacaritais attributed to a Bāṇa in Rājarāma Çastrin’sSūcīpatra, but it may really be Vāmana Bhaṭṭa Bāṇa’s as is thePārvatīpariṇaya(against Ettinghausen,Harṣa Vardhana, pp. 122 f.). TheMukuṭatāḍitakaof Bāṇa is cited in Caṇḍapāla’s comm. on theNalacampū, p. 227.↑36This verse is attributed to Bhāsa by Somadeva in hisYaçastilaka; Peterson,Reports, ii. 46.↑37pp. 7, 8, 9.↑38So the Unmattaka in thePratijñāyaugandharāyaṇaof Bhāsa.↑39Antiquity is claimed by the editors ofCaturbhāṇī(1922) for the Bhāṇas,Ubhayābhisārikāof Vararuci,Padmaprābhṛtakaof Çūdraka,Dhūrtaviṭasaṁvādaof Īçvaradatta,Pādatāḍitakaof Ārya Çyāmilaka, but no reliance can be placed on the first two ascriptions, and none of the plays need be older than 1000A.D.Their technique is similar to that of theMattavilāsa.↑

1Lévi, BEFEO. iii. 38 f.; Liebich,Das Datum des Candragomin und Kalidasas; Konow, ID. pp. 72 f.; GIL. iii. 185, 399 f.↑

1Lévi, BEFEO. iii. 38 f.; Liebich,Das Datum des Candragomin und Kalidasas; Konow, ID. pp. 72 f.; GIL. iii. 185, 399 f.↑

2v. 2275.↑

2v. 2275.↑

3v. 1629.↑

3v. 1629.↑

4p. 163;Subhāṣitāvali, 1916;Çārn̄gadhara, cxvii. 14; text uncertain.↑

4p. 163;Subhāṣitāvali, 1916;Çārn̄gadhara, cxvii. 14; text uncertain.↑

5Subhāṣitāvali, 66.↑

5Subhāṣitāvali, 66.↑

6Subhāṣitāvali, 69.↑

6Subhāṣitāvali, 69.↑

7M. Ettinghausen,Harṣa Vardhana, Louvain, 1905; S. P. Paṇḍit,Gaüdavaho, pp. cvii ff.; K. M. Panikkar,Sri Harsha of Kanauj, Bombay, 1922. It is impossible to connect the dramas with any definite incident of his reign such as the Prayāga festival celebrated by Hiuan-Tsang.↑

7M. Ettinghausen,Harṣa Vardhana, Louvain, 1905; S. P. Paṇḍit,Gaüdavaho, pp. cvii ff.; K. M. Panikkar,Sri Harsha of Kanauj, Bombay, 1922. It is impossible to connect the dramas with any definite incident of his reign such as the Prayāga festival celebrated by Hiuan-Tsang.↑

8i. 2. Cf. Soḍhala (A.D.993) inKāvyamīmāṅsā(GOS. i), p. xii.↑

8i. 2. Cf. Soḍhala (A.D.993) inKāvyamīmāṅsā(GOS. i), p. xii.↑

9Trs. Takakusu, pp. 163 f.↑

9Trs. Takakusu, pp. 163 f.↑

10vv. 856 ff.↑

10vv. 856 ff.↑

11Ed. C. Cappeller, Böhtlingk,Sanskrit-Chrestomathie, 3rd ed., pp. 326 ff.; trs. Wilson, ii. 255 ff.; L. Fritze, Schloss Chemnitz, 1878. It was performed at a spring festival of Kāma.↑

11Ed. C. Cappeller, Böhtlingk,Sanskrit-Chrestomathie, 3rd ed., pp. 326 ff.; trs. Wilson, ii. 255 ff.; L. Fritze, Schloss Chemnitz, 1878. It was performed at a spring festival of Kāma.↑

12Ed. R. V. Krishnamachariar, Srirangam, 1906; trs. G. Strehly, Paris, 1888.↑

12Ed. R. V. Krishnamachariar, Srirangam, 1906; trs. G. Strehly, Paris, 1888.↑

13Ed. Calcutta, 1886; TSS. 1917; trs. P. Boyd, London, 1872; A. Bergaigne, Paris, 1879; E. Teza, Milan, 1904.↑

13Ed. Calcutta, 1886; TSS. 1917; trs. P. Boyd, London, 1872; A. Bergaigne, Paris, 1879; E. Teza, Milan, 1904.↑

14KSS. xxii. 16–257; xc. 3–201; BKM. iv. 50–108; ix. 2. 776–930.↑

14KSS. xxii. 16–257; xc. 3–201; BKM. iv. 50–108; ix. 2. 776–930.↑

15xv.↑

15xv.↑

16Many traces of theSvapnavāsavadattācan be seen in theRatnāvalī, especially in the characterization of the Vidūṣaka.↑

16Many traces of theSvapnavāsavadattācan be seen in theRatnāvalī, especially in the characterization of the Vidūṣaka.↑

17Āraṇyikā suggests that assertion would be undignified, seeing her actual condition. In theMālavikāgnimitraa prophecy is made to do service as a motif.↑

17Āraṇyikā suggests that assertion would be undignified, seeing her actual condition. In theMālavikāgnimitraa prophecy is made to do service as a motif.↑

18Cf. Schuyler, JAOS. xx. 338 ff.↑

18Cf. Schuyler, JAOS. xx. 338 ff.↑

19Ratnāvalī, iv. 6.↑

19Ratnāvalī, iv. 6.↑

20Ratnāvalī, iv. 1.↑

20Ratnāvalī, iv. 1.↑

21Ibid., iv. 16.↑

21Ibid., iv. 16.↑

22Ibid., iv. 6/7. Cf.Priyadarçikā, i. on Vindhyaketu’s death.↑

22Ibid., iv. 6/7. Cf.Priyadarçikā, i. on Vindhyaketu’s death.↑

23iii. 15.↑

23iii. 15.↑

24iii. 17.↑

24iii. 17.↑

25v. 25.↑

25v. 25.↑

26i. 1.↑

26i. 1.↑

27Orbodhau, ‘on his enlightenment.’↑

27Orbodhau, ‘on his enlightenment.’↑

28iii. 4.↑

28iii. 4.↑

29iii. 2.↑

29iii. 2.↑

30iv. 7.↑

30iv. 7.↑

31iii. 15.↑

31iii. 15.↑

32Māgadhī is found in theNāgānandaspoken by the servant. On the variation of forms in the northern and southern editions see Barnett, JRAS. 1921, p. 589.↑

32Māgadhī is found in theNāgānandaspoken by the servant. On the variation of forms in the northern and southern editions see Barnett, JRAS. 1921, p. 589.↑

33TheMattavilāsa, ed. TSS. lv. 1917.↑

33TheMattavilāsa, ed. TSS. lv. 1917.↑

34EI. iv. 152;South Ind. Inscr.i. 29 f.; G. Jouveau-Dubreuil,The Pallavas, pp. 37 ff.↑

34EI. iv. 152;South Ind. Inscr.i. 29 f.; G. Jouveau-Dubreuil,The Pallavas, pp. 37 ff.↑

35ASarvacaritais attributed to a Bāṇa in Rājarāma Çastrin’sSūcīpatra, but it may really be Vāmana Bhaṭṭa Bāṇa’s as is thePārvatīpariṇaya(against Ettinghausen,Harṣa Vardhana, pp. 122 f.). TheMukuṭatāḍitakaof Bāṇa is cited in Caṇḍapāla’s comm. on theNalacampū, p. 227.↑

35ASarvacaritais attributed to a Bāṇa in Rājarāma Çastrin’sSūcīpatra, but it may really be Vāmana Bhaṭṭa Bāṇa’s as is thePārvatīpariṇaya(against Ettinghausen,Harṣa Vardhana, pp. 122 f.). TheMukuṭatāḍitakaof Bāṇa is cited in Caṇḍapāla’s comm. on theNalacampū, p. 227.↑

36This verse is attributed to Bhāsa by Somadeva in hisYaçastilaka; Peterson,Reports, ii. 46.↑

36This verse is attributed to Bhāsa by Somadeva in hisYaçastilaka; Peterson,Reports, ii. 46.↑

37pp. 7, 8, 9.↑

37pp. 7, 8, 9.↑

38So the Unmattaka in thePratijñāyaugandharāyaṇaof Bhāsa.↑

38So the Unmattaka in thePratijñāyaugandharāyaṇaof Bhāsa.↑

39Antiquity is claimed by the editors ofCaturbhāṇī(1922) for the Bhāṇas,Ubhayābhisārikāof Vararuci,Padmaprābhṛtakaof Çūdraka,Dhūrtaviṭasaṁvādaof Īçvaradatta,Pādatāḍitakaof Ārya Çyāmilaka, but no reliance can be placed on the first two ascriptions, and none of the plays need be older than 1000A.D.Their technique is similar to that of theMattavilāsa.↑

39Antiquity is claimed by the editors ofCaturbhāṇī(1922) for the Bhāṇas,Ubhayābhisārikāof Vararuci,Padmaprābhṛtakaof Çūdraka,Dhūrtaviṭasaṁvādaof Īçvaradatta,Pādatāḍitakaof Ārya Çyāmilaka, but no reliance can be placed on the first two ascriptions, and none of the plays need be older than 1000A.D.Their technique is similar to that of theMattavilāsa.↑

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