वासवदत्ता (महाकवि सुबन्धु - श्लेष-प्रधान शास्त्रीय गद्यकाव्य सान्वय सटीक)

18 VĀSAVADATTĀ ‹beautiful throat (sugrīva) and with armlets (aṅgada)› as the army of monkeys was adorned by ‹Sugrīva and Aṅgada›' (ed. Hall, pp. 63–64).¹ The figure next in frequence to the śleṣa in the Vāsavadattā is the virōdha, or ‘antithesis,’ where the superficial meaning is self- contradictory, while the paronomasiac reading renders the phrase consistent, and even intensifies it. This rhetorical embellishment is defined as follows in the Kāvyādarśa (2. 333; cf. Sāhityadar- paṇa, No. 718; Kāvyaprakāśa, tr. Jhā, pp. 233–235, Benares, 1898; Kuvalayānandakārikā, 1. 74) : viruddhānāṁ padārthānāṁ yatra saṁsargadarśanam viśēṣadarśanāyāi ”va sa virōdhaḥ smṛtō yathā, ‘when there is an apparent union of antithetical objects simply to show the distinction (between them), it is called virōdha.’ The conventional sign of the virōdha in the Vāsavadattā is api, as iva is indicative of the śleṣa. As an example of the countless in- stances of the virōdha in Subandhu’s romance, mention may be made of agrahēṇā ’pi kāvyajīvajñēna, ‘which ‹has no planets (a-graha)› yet knows «Venus (kāvya = Śukra = the planet Venus) and Jupiter (jīva = Bṛhaspati = the planet Jupiter)», for it is ‹free from theft (a-graha)› and knows «the essence (jīva) of poetry (kāvya)»’ (ed. Hall, pp. 113–114). Besides these two rhetorical devices, Śivarāma, in his com- mentary on the Vāsavadattā, enumerates a long series of alaṁ- kāras, or ‘adornments,’ which will now briefly be considered. The parisaṅkhyā, or ‘special mention,’ usually combined with the śleṣa in the Vāsavadattā, is an affirmative statement with the implied negation of the paronomasiac meaning of the phrase, and is thus defined by the Sāhityadarpaṇa (No. 735; cf. Kāvyapra- kāśa, tr. Jhā, pp. 245–246, Benares, 1898 ; Kuvalayānandakārikā,

1. 112) : ¹ On Subandhu’s fondness for paronomasia see, further, Krishnamachariar, Introd., pp. 18–20, who also calls attention to repetitions of paronomasia on the same word (p. 27) as well as to the frequent repetition of the same phrase in the romance (pp. 25–26).

INTRODUCTION 19 praśnād apraśnatō vā "pi kathitād vastunō bhavēt tādṛganyavyapōhaś cēc chābda ārthō 'thavā tadā parisaṅkhyā, ‘if there is either an expressed or implied exclusion, whether with or without an interrogation, of a thing similar to (but) other than the object mentioned, then it is a parisaṅkhyā.’ An example from the Vāsavadattā is nētrōtpāṭanaṁ munīnām, ‘⟨roots (nētra)⟩ were plucked out only in the case of «wormwood-trees(munīnām)» (for «ascetics (munīnām)» did not pluck out their ⟨eyes (nētra)⟩)’ (ed. Hall, p. 19). The mālādīpaka, or ‘garland elucidator’ (‘verkettete Klimax,’ according to Böhtlingk, Sanskrit-Wörterbuch in kürzerer Fas- sung, s. v., St. Petersburg, 1879–1889), is a rhetorical repetition of words in a sequence so as to heighten the effect, and is thus defined by the Kāvyādarśa (2. 108; cf. Kāvyaprakāśa, tr. Jhā, p. 226, Benares, 1898; Kuvalayānandakārikā, 1. 105): pūrvapūrvavyapēkṣiṇī vākyamālā prayuktē "ti tan mālādīpakaṁ matam, ‘a conjoined series of words, each of which refers to the one pre- ceding, is considered a mālādīpaka.’ As an example may be cited bhujadaṇḍēna kōdaṇḍaṁ kōdaṇḍēna śarāḥ śarāir ariśiras, ‘by his staff-like arm the bow, by the bow the arrows, by the arrows his foeman's head’ (ed. Hall, p. 41). The utprēkṣā, or ‘poetic fancy,’ usually indicated, like the ślēṣa, by iva, ‘as,’ in the Vāsavadattā, and one of Subandhu’s favourite rhetorical devices, is thus concisely defined by the Sāhityadar- paṇa (No. 686; cf. Kāvyādarśa, 2. 221; Kāvyaprakāśa, tr. Jhā, p. 211, Benares, 1898; Kuvalayānandakārikā, 1. 30): bhavēt saṁbhāvanō "tprēkṣā prakṛtasya parātmanā, ‘poetic fancy would be the imagining of an object under the character of something else.’ Examples of this figure abound in the Vāsavadattā, as in the following description of the moon: dadhidhavalē kālakṣapaṇakagrāsapiṇḍa iva niśāyamunāphēna- puñja iva mēnakānakhamārjanaśilāśakala iva, ‘while he was white, as it were, with the curds which constitute a morsel of food C 2

20 VĀSAVADATTĀ for (Buddhist) ascetics at their mealtime, and was like a mass of Yamunā's foam by night, and resembled a fragment of stone for the polishing of Mēnakā's nails' (ed. Hall, p. 44).¹ The yamaka, 'repetition' or 'chiming,' is the repeating of words or parts of words of similar sound but divergent meaning, which the Kāvyādarśa (1. 61; cf. 3. 1–37; Sāhityadarpaṇa, No. 640; Kāvyaprakāśa, tr. Jhā, pp. 185–188, Benares, 1898; Kuvalayānandakārikā, 4. 6) describes as āvṛttiṁ varṇasaṅghātagōcarāṁ yamakaṁ viduḥ, 'a repetition consisting of a combination of sounds they know as yamaka.' This is illustrated by the following passage from the Vāsavadattā: āndōlitakusumakēsarē kēsarēṇumuṣi raṇitamadhu- ramaṇīnāṁ ramaṇīnāṁ vikacakamudākarē mudākarē, '(when there blew a wind that) rocked the filaments of the flowers and removed their pollen from the hair of damsels wearing delight- somely tinkling jewels, whilst it had an abundance of expanded white lotuses, and caused pleasure' (ed. Hall, pp. 52–53). The prauḍhōkti, or 'pomposity,' is thus defined by the Kuva- layānandakārikā (1. 124): prauḍhōktir uktā 'rthāhētōs taddhētutvaprakalpanam, 'in the absence of a cause for a thing, the invention of a cause for it is called prauḍhōkti.' It is exemplified in the Vāsavadattā by the passage describing the heroine's lip as mukhacandra- sannihitasandhyārāgēṇa dantamaṇirakṣāsindūramudrānukāriṇā, 'which had the glow of eventide in close proximity to her moon- like face; which had what seemed to be a minium seal as a guard for the jewels of her teeth' (ed. Hall, p. 58). The rūpakātiśayōkti, or 'hyperbolical metaphor,' is merely an exaggerated form of the preceding alaṁkāra. It is thus defined in the Kuvalayānandakārikā (1. 34): rūpakātiśayōktiḥ syān nigīryādhyavasānataḥ, 'identification so that (the object identified) should be swallowed

¹ On the similes in the Vāsavadattā see also the examples collected by Krishna- machariar, Introd., pp. 20–22.

INTRODUCTION 21 up (and thus completely disappear) would be rūpakātiśayōkti; and as an example may be cited, from the description of Vāsa- vadattā just quoted, the passage vilōcanēndīvarabhramarapaṅk- tibhyāṃ mukhamadanamandiratōraṇābhyāṃ rāgasāgaravēlābh- yāṃ yāuvananartakalāsikābhyāṃ bhrūlatābhyāṃ virāiamānām, ‘adorned with delicate brows which were clusters of bees about her blue-lotus eyes; portals of her face that formed the abode of Love; the shores of Passion’s sea; wantoning in youthful dancing’ (ed. Hall, p. 61). The akramātiśayōkti, or ‘fused hyperbole,’ is closely akin to the preceding rhetorical figure, of which it is merely an intensi- fication. It receives the following definition in the Kuvalayā- nandakārikā (1. 39): akramātiśayōktiḥ syāt sahatvē hētukāryayōḥ, ‘akramātiśayōkti would be in the unity of cause and effect.’ Śivarāma cites but one instance of the figure in the Vāsavadattā, this being samaṃ dviṣāṃ dhanuṣāṃ ca jīvākṛṣṭiṃ yōdhāś cakruḥ, ‘the warriors drew at once the ‹lives (jīva)› of their foes and the ‹strings (jīvā)› of their bows’ (ed. Hall, p. 295). Two other forms of hyperbole are mentioned by Śivarāma as occurring in Subandhu’s romance. The first of these is bhēdakā- tiśayōkti, or ‘hyperbole of differentiation.’ It is defined as follows in the Kuvalayānandakārikā (1. 36): bhēdakātiśayōktis tu tasyāi ”vā ’nyatvavarṇanam, ‘bhēdakātiśayōkti is the description of that (which is the subject under discussion) by means of differentiation,’ and it is exemplified in the Vāsavadattā by pṛthur api gōtrasamutsāraṇavistāri- tabhūmaṇḍalaḥ, ‘Pṛthu ‹levelled the earth by banishing the mountains› (but Cintāmaṇi ‹covered the earth by sending forth his offspring›)’ (ed. Hall, p. 22). The remaining form of hyperbole in the Vāsavadattā is sam- bandhātiśayōkti, or ‘hyperbole of connexion,’ which is thus defined in the Kuvalayānandakārikā (1. 37): sambandhātiśayōktiḥ syād ayōgē yōgakalpanam, ‘sambandhātiśayōkti would be the invention of connexion when

22 VĀSAVADATTĀ

connexion is absent,' as when Subandhu describes trees as being anūrukarakaśābhighātaparavaśaravirathaturagagrāsaviṣamitapa- llavāis, 'with shoots made uneven by the feeding of the horses of the chariot of the sun which are obedient when lashed by the whip in the hands of Anūru' (ed. Hall, p. 120). The ratnāvalī, or 'jewel necklace,' is defined as follows in the Kuvalayānandakārikā (1. 139) : kramikāprakṛtārthānāṃ nyāsaṃ ratnāvalīṃ viduḥ, 'an arrangement of objects serially irrelevant they know as ratnā- valī,' and is exemplified in the Vāsavadattā where the heroine is described as vikacēna nētrakamalēna śanāiścarēṇa pādēna tamasā kēśapāśēna grahamayīm iva, 'she seemed to be made of planets: of <Venus>, for she had <wide-open> lotus eyes; of <Saturn>, for she had <slow-moving> steps; of <Rāhu>, for she had <dark> heavy hair' (ed. Hall, p. 64). The kāvyaliṅga, or 'poetic reason,' is thus defined by the Sāhityadarpaṇa (No. 710; cf. Kāvyaprakāśa, tr. Jhā, pp. 238– 239, Benares, 1898; Kuvalayānandakārikā, 1. 120) : hētōr vākyapadārthatvē kāvyaliṅgaṃ nigadyatē, 'kāvyaliṅga is applied to the implication of a cause in a sentence or word,' and finds exemplification in the Vāsavadattā in the passage khalaḥ punas tad aniṣṭam anucitam ēvā 'vadhārayanty aniṣṭōd- bhāvanarasōttaraṃ hi khalahṛdayam, 'the wicked, on the other hand, make it (thy conduct) out to be undesirable and indecorous; for the heart of the wicked man finds its highest delight centred in bringing to light what is undesirable' (ed. Hall, p. 70). The mīlita, or 'vanished,' denotes a complete loss of distinction between two objects because of their superficial resemblance, as is expressed by the definition of the Kuvalayānandakārikā (1. 145; cf. Kāvyaprakāśa, tr. Jhā, pp. 253–254, Benares, 1898; Ruyyaka's Alaṃkārasarvasva, ed. Durgāprasāda and Parab, p. 167, Bombay, 1893): mīlitaṃ yadi sādṛśyād bhēda ēva na lakṣyatē, 'if, because of similarity, a distinction is not observed, it is mīlita.' As an example from Subandhu I may cite mādhurya-

INTRODUCTION 23

śāityasucitvasantāpaśāntibhiḥ payaḥ paya ivē 'ti, 'fancying that “water is as milk because of its sweetness, coolness, purity, and healing of distress”' (ed. Hall, p. 80). The anuprāsa, or 'alliteration,' a rhetorical figure found with considerable frequency in Subandhu's romance, is thus defined by the Sāhityadarpaṇa (No. 633; cf. Kāvyādarśa, 1. 55; Kāvya- prakāśa, tr. Jhā, pp. 182–184, Benares, 1898; Kuvalayānandakā- rikā, 4. 2–5) : anuprāsaḥ śabdasāmyaṁ vāiṣamyē 'pi svarasya yat, ‘anuprāsa (is) a similarity of sound, despite a dissimilarity of the vowel.’ As an example from the Vāsavadattā may be cited these two adjectives descriptive of the River Rēvā: madakalakalahaṁ- sasārasarasitōdbhrāntabhāḥkūṭavikaṭapucchacchaṭāvyādhūtavikaca- kamalakhaṇḍavigalitamakarandabindusandōhasurabhitasalilayā.. . . . upakūlasañjātanalanikuñjapuñjitakulāyakukkuṭaghaṭāghūtkā- rabhāiravatīrayā, 'whose waters were perfumed by the abundance of the drops of liquid which had fallen from the fragments of full- blown lotuses shaken by many monstrous tails of bhāḥkūṭa-fish that had been terrified by the notes, indistinct for passion, of geese and herons; ..... whose banks were strident with the screams of multitudes of wild cocks whose nests thronged the bowers of reeds that had sprung up near its shores' (ed. Hall, pp. 95, 98). The sama, or 'equal,' is thus defined in the Kāvyādarśa (1. 47; cf. Sāhityadarpaṇa, No. 618; Kāvyaprakāśa, tr. Jhā, pp. 175– 176, Benares, 1898): samaṁ bandhēṣv aviṣamaṁ tē mṛdusphuṭamadhyamāḥ bandhā mṛdusphuṭōnmiśravarṇavinyāsayōnayaḥ, ‘sama is not uneven in collocations (of words); these collocations, smooth, rough, (and) middling, depend on the arrangement of smooth, rough, and mixed (sounds).’ It is illustrated by the passage kāmadāruṇa madāruṇanētrāsmaramayaṁ ramayantaṁ tvām adayaṁ madayantī param akam itāraṁ param akamitāraṁ vāñchati, 'what gentle-eyed woman who fervently delighteth thee, that art not inflamed with passion, (but art) the essence of love, delightsome, (and) a most excellent lover, desireth another

24 VĀSAVADATTĀ that is no lover [cruel with passion ! red-eyed with lust ! alas, an unlovely dame desireth thee, the essence of lovelessness, hot, pitiless, absolutely no lover, (and) bound for utmost woe !]’ (ed. Hall, pp. 213–214). The vidhi, or ‘rule,’ is defined as follows by the Kuvalayānan- dakārikā (I. 167) : siddhasyāi "va vidhānaṃ yat tad āhur vidhyalaṃkṛtim, ‘what (is) a precept of a thing well established, that they call the vidhi adornment,’ and is exemplified by kuraṅgikē kalpaya kuraṅgaśāvakēbhyaḥ śaspāṅkuraṃ kiśōrikē kāraya kiśōrakēbhyaḥ pratyavēkṣāṃ, ‘Kuraṅgikā, prepare a blade of young grass for the antelope fauns ! Kiśōrikā, have the young colts looked after’ ! (ed. Hall, pp. 230–231). The sambhāvana, or ‘supposition,’ is thus defined by the Kuvalayānandakārikā (I. 125) : sambhāvanaṃ yadī 'tthaṃ syād ity ūhō 'nyasya siddhayē, ‘sambhāvana is a conjecture for the attainment of something else with the thought, “if it were so.”’ It is illustrated in the Vāsavadattā by the passage tvatkṛtē yā "nayā vēdanā "nubhūtā sā yadi nabhaḥ patrāyatē sāgarō mēlānandāyatē brahmāyatē lipikarō bhujagarājāyatē kathakas tadā kim api katham apy anēkāir yugasahasrāir abhilikhyatē kathyatē vā, ‘the pain that hath been felt by this maiden for thy sake might be written or told in some wise or in some way in many thousands of ages if the sky became paper, the sea an ink-well, the scribe Brāhma, (and) the narrator the Lord of Serpents’ (ed. Hall, pp. 238–239). The kāraṇamālā, or ‘chain of causes,’ is given the following definition in the Kuvalayānandakārikā (I. 103 ; cf. Kāvyaprakāśa, tr. Jhā, p. 246, Benares, 1898) : gumphaḥ kāraṇamālā syād yathāprakrāntakāraṇāiḥ, ‘a series (made) by causes proceeding one after the other is a kāraṇamālā,’ and an example is seen by Śivarāma in the description of Vāsavadattā’s palace as ajñātataṭasphāṭikapaṭ- ṭasukhaniṣaṇṇanidrāyamāṇaprāsādapārāvatābhiḥ, ‘with palace

INTRODUCTION 25 doves sleeping comfortably (because) perched on slabs of crystal from shores unknown' (ed. Hall, pp. 217–218). The udātta, or 'exalted,' is thus defined in the Sāhityadarpaṇa (No. 752; cf. Kāvyaprakāśa, tr. Jhā, p. 240, Benares, 1898; Kuvalayānandakārikā, 1. 162–163): lōkātiśayasampattivarṇanō "dāttam ucyatē yad vā "pi prastutasyā 'ṅgaṁ mahatāṁ caritaṁ bhavēt, 'the portrayal of extraordinary prosperity is called udātta, or it would even be the deeds of the great, (if they form) part of the subject in hand.' An illustration of this figure is found in another portion of the description just quoted: karpūrapūra- viracitapulinataṭaniviṣṭaninadānumīyamānarājahaṁsībhir, 'with flamingoes whose noise would imply that they had settled near the sand bank formed by the stream of camphor' (ed. Hall, p. 218), only one of extreme wealth being able to possess such a river.¹ The kāitavāpahnuti, or 'false concealment,' is defined by the Kuvalayānandakārikā (1. 28) as follows: kāitavāpahnutir vyaktāu vyājādyāir nihnutēḥ padāiḥ, 'kāitavāpahnuti (consists) in the manifestation of concealment by words of pretext and the like,' and finds exemplification in the Vāsavadattā in the passage ativēganipītajaladhijalaśaṅkhamālām iva balākācchalād udvamann adṛśyata jaladaḥ, 'the cloud seemed to vomit forth, like a crane, what appeared to be a series of ocean shells that had been drunk down too hastily' (ed. Hall, pp. 283–284). The lōkōkti, 'popular expression,' is thus defined by the Kuvalayānandakārikā (1. 156): lōkapravādānukṛtir lōkōktir iti kathyatē, 'the imitation of a popular colloquialism is called lōkōkti,' and finds an illustration in Subandhu's romance in the exhortation tad adhunā yadi tvaṁ sahapāṁśukrīḍanasamaduḥkhasukhō 'si ¹ Śivarāma rightly notes that this passage also contains the rhetorical figure anumāna, or 'inference' (cf. Kāvyaprakāśa, tr. Jhā, pp. 243-244, Benares, 1898; Kuvalayānan- dakārikā, 2. 10).

26 VĀSAVADATTĀ tadā mām anugaccha, 'now, therefore, if thou didst share the sorrows and joys of our playing together in the dust, then follow me' (ed. Hall, p. 82). The svabhāvōkti, or 'natural description,' receives the following definition in the Kuvalayānandakārikā (1. 160; cf. Kāvyapra- kāśa, tr. Jhā, p. 235, Benares, 1898) : svabhāvōktiḥ svabhāvasya jātyādisthasya varṇanam, 'svabhāvōkti is the description of inherent nature consisting of characteristics and the like.' As an example from the Vāsava- dattā may be cited : paśyō 'dañcadavāñcadañcitavapuḥ paścārddhapūrvārddhabhāk stabdhōttānitapṛṣṭhaniṣṭhitamanāgbhugnāgralāṅgūlabhṛt daṃṣṭrākōṭiviśaṅkaṭāsyakuharaḥ kurvan saṭām utkaṭām utkarṇaḥ kurutē kramaṃ karipatāu krūrākṛtiḥ kēsarī, 'lo, with his bending body bending up and bending down, now with his hind quarters and now with his fore quarters, with the tip of his tail slightly bent along his hard, arched back, with his cavernous mouth monstrous with the tips of his fangs, making his mane huge, (and) with his ears erect, the horrible lion doth make attack upon the lord of elephants' (ed. Hall, p. 103). The kāvyārthāpatti, or 'poetic inference,' is defined as follows in the Kuvalayānandakārikā (1. 119): kāimutyēnā 'rthasaṃsiddhiḥ kāvyārthāpattir iṣyatē, 'an a fortiori attainment of a matter is regarded as kāvyārthā- patti.' It is exemplified by Subandhu in his heroine's letter to Kandarpakētu : pratyakṣadṛṣṭabhāvā 'py asthirahṛdayā hi kāminī bhavati svapnānubhūtabhāvā draḍhayati na pratyayaṃ yuvatiḥ, 'a loving maid is of unsteady heart even when she hath seen the feelings (of her lover) with her eyes ; a girl who hath learned his feelings only from a dream hath no assurance' (ed. Hall, p. 164). Literary and Ethical Merit of the Vāsavadattā. The Vāsa- vadattā apparently being written to display its author's skill in rhetoric, rather than his inventive powers in fiction, we are

INTRODUCTION 27 naturally led to consider what literary value we may assign to it. Here the ‘personal equation’ must inevitably play a part, and here the fundamental difference between Oriental and Occidental concepts must be duly recognised. In the West the subject- matter comes first in nearly every form of literary composition ; and the more tense and nervous the people, the more simple and direct is the style. In the East, on the contrary, the form is often more important than the matter, especially in periods of hyper-civilisation, such as was that during which Subandhu wrote. We must, therefore, consider the Vāsavadattā from the luxuriant atmosphere of the land of its author, not from the ‘practical’ point of view of the West. To me, at least, there is true melody in the long, rolling compounds, a sesquipedalian majesty which can never be equalled save in Sanskrit ; and the alliterations have a lulling music all their own to ears weary of the blatant discords of vaunted modern ‘progress.’ There is, on the other hand, a compact brevity in the paronomasias, which are, in most cases, veritable gems of terseness and twofold appropriateness, even though some are manifestly forced and are actually detrimental to the sense of the passages in which they occur. Yet in judging Subandhu for his faults, it must be re- membered that he created, at least so far as we now know, a new literary genre in India ; and if this fact be borne in mind, his blemishes appear to be marvellously few. In estimating his literary merits special stress should be laid on his descriptions. These are, it must be confessed, cloying from their abundance. They form the preponderating part of the entire romance, and the slender framework of the story is wellnigh lost beneath them. Yet despite this tropical luxuriance, the descriptions are not without beauty and appropriateness, whether they set forth the charms of mountain, forest, and stream, or portray the rāja’s valour and the loveliness of the heroine herself. The entire romance may, in a sense, be likened to India’s own architecture, where the whole structure is so overlaid with minute detail that the eye forgets the outlines of the building in amaze- ment at the delicate traceries which cover it.

28 VĀSAVADATTĀ Nor does it seem to me that the ethical standard of the Vāsavadattā can be objectionable to one of healthy mind. True, the East is not as the West; and there are personal descriptions more detailed than would be desirable in Occidental literature, together with evident approval of relations and ideals which the less sensual Western mind rightly condemns. There are passages, too, which I would gladly have omitted, had I felt that a faithful translator could do so. And yet, despite all this, I find in the romance no evidence of delight in uncleanness, such as nauseates, for example, in Petronius or in Martial. It is not pornographic; it is, at worst, unmoral, though its rigid adherence to all conventions, both in letter and, I think, in spirit, renders even unmorality almost too harsh an accusation. From an Indian point of view, unlightened by the radiance of Christianity and the morality which it inculcates, I should not hesitate to term the Vāsavadattā a moral work, especially in view of the conditions of life in mediæval India. Its atmosphere, luxuriant though it be, has never seemed to me to be debasing. It is by no means impossible that some will dissent from the views here expressed regarding the literary and moral quality of Subandhu's romance. If so, they may turn from the first Western translator of the Vāsavadattā to the first Western editor of the romance, Fitzedward Hall, who, in his Introduction, has unsparingly condemned the entire production both in its literary and in its ethical aspects—a precedent followed by Krishnamachariar in his sarcastic critique of the whole plot of Subandhu's work (Introd., pp. 50–66). Outline of the Plot of the Romance. The outline of the story of the Vāsavadattā is as follows : A king named Cintāmaṇi had a son Kandarpakētu, who was, like his father, the embodiment of all virtues. Once upon a time toward dawn, when true dreams come, the young prince saw in his sleep a vision of a maiden of some eighteen years, whose loveliness could not be surpassed. Jealous sleep forsook Kandarpakētu, who, with his friend Makaranda, left the city in his love-longing for the unknown princess. In their wanderings the pair came to the

INTRODUCTION 29 Vindhya mountains, and there, in the watches of the night, the sleepless prince overheard the conversation of two birds perched on a branch of the tree beneath which he lay. To the story of the husband-bird, trying to explain his late hours to his suspicious wife, Kandarpakētu listened, and was richly rewarded by what he heard. In the city of Pāṭaliputra on the Ganges, so the maina recounted, reigned the mighty monarch Śṛṅgāraśē- khara, who had an only daughter named Vāsavadattā. In the spring she, too, had met her fate in a dream—a youth of matchless beauty, whose name was Kandarpakētu. The con- fidante of the princess at this juncture was her maid, Tamālikā, who had volunteered to seek Kandarpakētu and bear to him a missive from the princess telling of her love. The lovers were now soon united at Pāṭaliputra, where Kandarpakētu was informed that Śṛṅgāraśēkhara, dismayed at his daughter’s unwedded state, had determined to marry her the very next day to the Vidyādhara prince Puṣpakētu. Kandarpakētu and Vāsavadattā accordingly returned almost immediately, by means of a magic steed, to the Vindhyas; but when the prince awoke in the morning, his beloved was no longer in the bower. Mad with sorrow, he was restrained from suicide only by a voice from heaven which promised him reunion with the princess. After many months of weary searching and waiting, he found Vāsavadattā turned to stone. His touch gave the statue life again, and she told him how, while two armies destroyed each other to gain her for their leaders, she had unwittingly intruded in the garden of a hermit, who laid upon her the curse of petrification until her lover should come. Thus, at last, the woes of the lovers were over, and returning to Kandarpakētu’s capital, delight was theirs ever afterward (for other summaries see Hall, Introd., pp. 29–43; Stréhly, Revue politique et littéraire, 44. 305–308; Krishnama- chariar, Introd., pp. 9–14; and the references given in the bibliography, below, pp. 197–199). From this brief outline of the plot of the Vāsavadattā it will be seen that Subandhu alludes to several incidents widely found in literature and folk-tales, such as talking birds, magic steeds,

30 VĀSAVADATTĀ and transformation. To all these I have sought to give parallels, especially from modern Indian folk-tales, in footnotes to the passages in which they occur. There seems to be no parallel, however, to the story of the Vāsavadattā as a whole, and, as already stated (p. 2), Subandhu evidently invented the slender plot of his own romance (cf. also Hall, Introd., pp. 1–6). Sanskrit ‘Estilo Culto’ Previous to Subandhu, and in Later Epigraphy. This allusion to comparative literature brings us to possible quasi-parallels to the style of the Vāsavadattā. The commingling of prose and verse which is characteristic of the ākhyāyikā, kathā, and other forms of gadya, or poetical prose (cf. Regnaud, Rhétorique sanskrite, pp. 74–77, Paris, 1884), was by no means an innovation of Subandhu. It is found, for instance, in the Pañcatantra and the Jātakas, as well as in the gāthās of the Brāhmaṇas and the Northern Buddhists, even though these latter be more archaic than the prose in which they are set. Obscure as is the date of the beginning of the kāvya style in India, a flood of light has been cast on its early history by Bühler in his ‘Die indischen Inschriften und das Alter der indischen Kunstpoesie,’ in SWAW. 122, Abhandlung 11. There he has shown that the eulogy of Vatsabhaṭṭi, preserved in an inscription in the Temple of the Sun at Maṇḍasōr, and dated 473–474 A.D., contains descriptions of cities, natural phenomena, and the like, together with compound words of inordinate length, and the rhetorical devices of anuprāsa, upamā, utprēkṣā, rūpaka, and (possibly) virōdha, all of which even fulfil the requirements laid down, for instance, by Daṇḍin in his Kāvyādarśa. The term kāvya itself occurs at least as early as 375–390 A. D. in Hariṣēṇa’s panegyric on Samudragupta, inscribed on a pillar at Allāhābād, which also contains long compounds and the rhetorical figures of varṇānuprāsa, rūpaka, upamā, and ślēṣa. The kāvya style is carried back to the early second half of the second century A.D. by the Girnār inscription of Rudradāman, which has long com- pounds and numerous anuprāsas, together with two upamās and one utprēkṣā. It is thus clear that a fairly developed kāvya was known in India as early as the second century of our era, not

INTRODUCTION [p. 31]

forgetting that the epic of the Rāmāyaṇa contains many approxi- mations to the kāvya style (Jacobi, Das Râmâyaṇa, pp. 119–126, Bonn, 1893). In the course of time kāvya inscriptions became more elaborate, particularly in their use of the śleṣa. Mention can here be made only of the śleṣas and virōdhas in the Valabhī grant of Dhruva- sēna III, dated in 653–654 A.D. (Hultzsch, EI. 1. 85–92) ; the Balōda plates of Tīvaradēva, of the middle of the eighth century (Hultzsch, ib. 7. 102–107); a grant of Indrarāja III, dated in 915 A.D. (Bhandarkar, ib. 9. 24–41); the Cambay plates of Gōvinda IV, dated in 929–930 A.D. (Bhandarkar, ib. 7. 26–47) ; and the Dēvulapalli plates of Immaḍi Nṛsiṃha, dated in 1504 (Ramayya, ib. 7. 74–85); though allusion should also be made to the general style of such an inscription as the Kaḍaba plates of Gōvinda III, dated in 812–813 A.D. (Lüders, EI. 4. 332–349). In the inscriptions of the Vāillabhaṭṭasvāmin temple at Gwaliar, dated in 874–875 A.D. (Hultzsch, EI. 1. 154–162), which abound in virōdhas, Kielhorn (apud Hultzsch, EI. 1. 157, note 23) has already called attention to a possible reminiscence of the dhana- dēnā ’pi pracetasā, ‘which is ⟨Kubēra⟩, yet ≪Varuṇa≫, for it is ⟨generous⟩ and ≪wise≫,’ of the Vāsavadattā (ed. Hall, p. 111) in the dhanadō ’pi na pramattō, ‘he was ⟨Kubēra⟩, but not ≪Varuṇa≫, for he was ⟨generous⟩ and not ≪inattentive≫’ (line 6). Kielhorn, moreover, in his edition and translation of the Rādhanpur plates of Gōvinda III, dated in 807–808 A.D. (EI. 6. 239–251), expressly declares (p. 240) that ‘an examination of the language and general style of most of these verses can leave no doubt that their author or authors are greatly indebted for their expressions and poetical devices to such works as Subandhu’s Vāsavadattā and Bāṇa’s Kādambarī and Harṣacarita.’ There is no need here to repeat the parallels which Kielhorn has drawn between the inscription in question and the romances of Subandhu and Bāṇa (EI. 6. 247–250), nor is it necessary to make more than a passing allusion to the fact that a close examination of Indian epigraphy would probably reveal many more parallels to the Vāsavadattā and other productions of the same genre. It would by no means

32 VĀSAVADATTĀ follow, however, that such resemblances necessarily imply borrowing from the romances of Subandhu and Bāṇa, for the same research would, in all probability, show an equal, or even greater, affinity with kāvya literature in general. The kāvya of the inscriptions must, therefore, be regarded as an integral part of the vast mass of artificial Sanskrit literature, its development being attained by a process of natural growth. The Commingling of Prose and Verse and Paronomasia Out- side the Vāsavadattā. Outside of India the commingling of prose and poetry in the same composition is found in the Chinese romance P'ing Shan Lêng Yen (tr. Julien, P'ing-Chan-Ling-Yen, Les Deux Jeunes Filles lettrées, 2 vols., Paris, 1860); in Sa'dī's Gulistān; in The Thousand Nights and One Night; in the Old Picard Aucassin et Nicolette; in Norse Sagas and in Middle Irish tales and histories (cf. Windisch, Irische Texte, 3. 447–449, Leipzig, 1891–1897); and in Boccaccio's L'Ameto; as well as in the Saturæ Menippeæ of Varro; Petronius; the author of the Historia Apollonii regis Tyri; and among Basutos and Eskimos (cf. MacCulloch, Childhood of Fiction, London, 1905, pp. 480–481; Teuffel-Schwabe, Geschichte der römischen Literatur, 5 ed., pp. 43–44, Leipzig, 1890). In like manner, the elaborate parono- masias which are so essentially a part of the style of the Vāsava- dattā, and which later led to such productions as Kavirāja's Rāgha- vapāṇḍavīya, which in identical words celebrates the deeds of the Raghu princes by one reading and those of the Pāṇḍava heroes by the other reading, or Rāmacandra's Rasikarañjana (ed. and tr. Schmidt, Stuttgart, 1896), which may be read as a laudation either of asceticism or of eroticism, were in vogue, as we have seen, long before the time of Subandhu.¹ They also occur in the Chinese romance Ch'in P'ing Mei (cf. Giles, History of Chinese Literature, p. 309, London, 1901) and in the writings of Lyly. ¹ To this list Krishnamachariar (Introd., p. 18) adds Dhanamjaya's Dvisandhāna- kāvya (ed. Bombay, 1895 = Kāvyamālā, No. 49) and the Rāghavayādavapāṇḍavīya, or Kathātrayīvyākhyāna, of Cidambara and his son Anantanārāyaṇa, which gives the substance of the Rāmāyaṇa, Mahābhārata, and Bhāgavatapurāṇa. Another literary curiosity of this general type is the elegy of Leon of Modena on his teacher, Moses Bassola, which may be read either in Hebrew or in Italian (cf. Jewish Encyclopedia, 2. 576, New York, 1902).

INTRODUCTION 33 Subandhu and Lyly. It is Lyly, indeed, with whom Subandhu may perhaps best be compared for a general parallel with the style and spirit of the Vāsavadattā. Neither the Euphues nor Subandhu's romance is concerned so much with the matter as with the form, although the English author manifests a didactic purpose which finds no counterpart in the Sanskrit writer. Like the Vāsavadattā, the Euphues and its continuation contain epi- sodes, or stories within stories, as the tale of Callimachus (Lyly, ed. Arbor, pp. 227–245, Birmingham, 1868), which itself contains the story of Cassander the hermit (pp. 235–239), thus parallelling the arrangement not only of the Vāsavadattā and the Kādambarī, but also of the Pañcatantra, Śukasaptati, Vetālapañcaviṁśati, The Thousand Nights and One Night, Decameron, and other similar works.¹ Lyly's romance is curiously like Subandhu's in yet other respects. Here I may note particularly from his Euphues the use of paronomasia, alliteration, antithesis (corresponding respectively to Subandhu's employment of śleṣa, anuprāsa, and virōdha), and learned allusions. From the mass of possible citations under each category I quote but two of each. (1) Paronomasia : ‘and though they be commonly in a great cholar that receiue the mate, yet would I willingly take euery minute tenne mates to enioy Liuia for my louing mate’ (Lyly, ed. Arbor, p. 66, Birmingham, 1868) ; ‘did not Iupiters egge bring forth as well Helen a light huswife in earth, as Castor a light Starre in heauen ?’ (p. 208).² (2) Alli- teration : ‘these subtill shiftes, these painted practises (if I wer to be wonne) would soone weane me from the teate of Vesta to the toyes of Venus’ (p. 76) ; I am Philautus no Italian lady, who commonly are woed with leasings, and won with lust, entangled with deceipt, and enioyed with delight, caught with sinne, and cast off with shame’ (p. 360). (3) Antithesis : ‘how curious were we to please our Lady, how carelesse to displease our Lorde ? Howe devout in seruing our Goddesse, how desperate in forget- ¹ For a charming modern imitation see Bain, Digit of the Moon (London, 1899). ² It is well known that paronomasia occurs not infrequently in Shakespeare (e. g. Julius Caesar, 1. 2. 155 ; Merchant of Venice, 4. 1. 123 ; Taming of the Shrew, 2. 1. 190 ; Richard II, 2. 1. 74) ; and it seems to have been a favourite device of Ben Jonson (e. g. Mermaid ed., 1. 15–16, 20, 68, 106, 344 ; 2. 91 ; 3. 178, 402, London, n. d.). D

ting our God'? (p. 106); 'thou weepest for the death of thy daughter, and I laugh at the folly of the father, for greater vanitie is there in the minde of the mourner, then bitternesse in the death of the deceased. But shee was amiable, but yet sinful, but she was young and might haue liued, but she was mortall and must haue dyed. I but hir youth made thee often merry, I but thine age shold once make thee wise. I but hir greene yeares wer unfit for death, I but thy hoary haires should dispyse life' (pp. 182– 183). (4) Learned allusions: 'the filthy Sow when she is sicke, eateth the Sea-Crab, and is immediatly recured: the Torteyse hauing tasted the Viper, sucketh Origanum and is quickly reuiued: the Beare ready to pine licketh vp the Ants, and is recouered: the Dog hauing surfetted to procure his vomitte, eateth grasse and findeth remedy: the Hart beeing perced with the dart, run- neth out of hand to the hearb Dictanum, and is healed. . . . Ah well I perceiue that Loue is not unlyke the Figge tree, whose fruite is sweete, whose roote is more bitter then the clawe of a Bitter: or lyke the Apple in Persia, whose blossome sauoreth lyke Honny, whose budde is more sower then Gall' (p. 61); 'Loue knoweth no laws: Did not Iupiter transforme himselfe into the shape of Amphitrio to embrace Alcmæna? Into the forme of a Swan to enioy Læda: Into a Bull to beguile Iò: Into a showre of golde to winne Danae: Did not Neptune chaunge himselfe into a Heyfer, a Ramme, a Floud, a Dolphin, onely for the loue of those he lusted after? Did not Apollo conuert him- selfe into a Shephearde, into a Birde, into a Lyon: for the desire he had to heale his disease'? (p. 93). Parallels such as these might be multiplied indefinitely, not only between the Vāsavadattā and the Euphues, but between Subandhu's romance and many other productions both of the East and of the West.¹ Here, however, it must suffice to note that Dunlop, in his History of Prose Fiction (ed. Wilson, London, 1896), records the following incidents and motifs which may now

¹ For parallels in the Vāsavadattā and Bāṇa's romances with The Thousand Nights and One Night see Gray, 'Literary Studies on the Sanskrit Novel,' in WZKM. 18. 39–48.

be compared with those in the Vāsavadattā : story within story (1. 30, 37 ; 2. 389, 405, 409, 416, 436, 438) ; love from a dream (1. 253, 258–259, 380) ; magic steeds (1. 339, 342, 375) ; love letters (2. 382–383 ; cf. Schlegel, ‘Feuilles d’arbre comme lettres d’amour,’ in Mélanges Charles de Harlez, pp. 271–274, Leiden, 1896) ; and birds playing a part in affaires de cœur (2. 482). It should also be observed that Dunlop repeatedly alludes to Indian parallels with Occidental literature (1. 12, 64–65, 74, 76, 109–110, 210, 306, 318, 413, 459–461 ; 2. 8, 30, 49, 53–54, 81, 87–88, 90, 118–120, 127–128, 272, 509, 558–559), although the most of these refer to the novel, or ‘short story,’ and not to the romance. The Sanskrit Romance Compared with the Greek. The sole national romance literature of the West which has been regarded as connected with that of India is the Greek. The view has been advanced by Peterson (Kādambarī, 2 ed., Introd., pp. 101–104, Bombay, 1889, where several parallels are adduced between the Kādambarī and Achilles Tatios), Weber (Sitzungsberichte der Berliner Akademie, phil.-hist. Klasse, 37. 917), and Goblet d'Alviella (Ce que l’Inde doit à la Grèce, p. 136, Paris, 1897) that the Indian romance was a direct importation from Greece. This hypothesis, however, is rejected by Lévi (Quid de Graecis veterum Indorum monumenta tradiderint, p. 60, Paris, 1890) with what seems to me to be perfect justice. It is, of course, true that many parallels of incident and even of literary device exist between the Sanskrit and the Greek romance. Among parallels of incident I may note the following, restricting the list to similarities be- tween the Greek romances and the Vāsavadattā : falling in love from a dream (story of Zariadres and Odatis as recorded by Athenaios, Deipnosophistai, 13. 35 ; this story is clearly of Eastern origin ; cf. Rohde, Griechischer Roman, 2 ed., pp. 47–54, Leipzig, 1900, where the parallel with the Vāsavadattā is expressly noted ; for dreams in general in the Greek romances see Rohde, op. cit. pp. 508, 524, 531–533, 547, 561, 566) ; svayaṃvara, or ‘self- choice’ of a husband (also in the story of Zariadres and Odatis ; cf. Rohde, op. cit. p. 52) ; letters between lovers (Achilles Tatios, Τὰ κατὰ Λευκίππην καὶ Κλειτοφῶντα, 5. 18, 20 ; Niketas Eugenîanos, D 2

36 VĀSAVADATTĀ Τὰ κατὰ Δρόσιλλαν καὶ Χαρικλέα, 2. 169–179, 202–223, 240–277, 284–314; 5. 199–247; Eustathios, Τὸ καθʼ Ὑσμίνην καὶ Ὑσμινίαν δρᾶμα, 9. 8; 10. 2; cf. Rohde, op. cit. pp. 513, 566); fainting (Chariton, Τὰ περὶ Χαιρέαν καὶ Καλλιρρόην, 1. 4; 2. 7; 3. 6; 4. 5; 8. 1; cf. Rohde, op. cit. p. 172, where the parallel with the Vāsa- vadattā is noted); long-winded lamentations (Niketas Eugenianos,

1. 226–257, 289–352; 2. 8–23; 4. 110–150; 5. 131–168, 183– 193; 6. 34–94, 204–234, 306–327; 8. 84–130, 196–238; 9. 37– 107; cf. Rohde, op. cit. p. 566); and threatened suicide (Chari- ton, 1. 5; 5. 10; 6. 2; 7. 1; 8. 8; cf. Rohde, op. cit. p. 527). The following parallels of literary device, similarly restricted, may also be noted : stories within stories and episodes (the adventures of Derkullis and the sub-episode of Astraios in the lost Τὰ ὑπὲρ Θύλην ἄπιστα; the story of Aigialeus in Xenophon Ephesaios, Τὰ κατὰ Ἄνθειαν καὶ Ἀβροκόμην Ἐφεσιακά, 5. 1; and the stories of Knemon in Heliodoros's Αἰθιοπικά, 1. 9–14; 2. 8–10; and of Kala- siris, ib. 2. 24–5. 1; 5. 17–33; with the sub-episode of Charikles, ib. 2. 29–33); descriptions of nature (Niketas Eugenianos, 1. 77– 115; Achilles Tatios, 1. 15; Longos, Ποιμενικὰ τὰ κατὰ Δάφνιν καὶ Χλόην, 4. 2–3); detailed personal descriptions (Achilles Tatios,
2. 1; Niketas Eugenianos, 1. 120–158; cf. Rohde, op. cit. pp. 160– 166); learned allusions and citations of precedents (Longos, 1. 16; 4. 17; Achilles Tatios, 1. 8; 2. 36–37); and alliteration, parisoi, homoioteleuta, and similar figures of rhetoric which cor- respond in a sense to the Sanskrit anuprāsa (Achilles Tatios, 1. 1–2; 2. 7; 3. 2, 7; 4. 4; 5. 1, 21; Longos, preface; 1. 18, 30;
3. 35; 3. 3, 24, 33, 34; 4. 18; Eustathios, 1. 4; 2. 13; 4. 1, 3, 12, 21; 5. 11; 7. 13; cf. Rohde, op. cit. pp. 552–553, 561), although they often form rhymes (Achilles Tatios, 1. 1, 11; Longos, pre- face; 2. 26; 3. 13, 23; 4. 17, 28; Eustathios, 1. 9) and strained compounds (Niketas Eugenianos, 1. 133; 2. 143; 3. 121; 5. 341;
4. 48; cf. Rohde, op. cit. p. 567). Yet all these parallels, and many more which might be cited, seem to me to prove nothing. In the first place, a large number of them can be considered parallels only by straining the sense of the term; and in the second place, they are obviously the out-

working of independent, though partially similar, processes in the development of Greek and Sanskrit literature respectively, and should be interpreted accordingly. But even were an essential resemblance granted, it would still be difficult, I think, to prove the dependence of the Sanskrit romance on the Greek, the latter being, of course, the earlier. The romances of the two peoples are totally different both in plan and in spirit, as even a cursory reading will show. The least part of the Sanskrit romance is the thread of the story or the adventures of its characters ; all the stress is laid on rhetorical embellishment, minute description of nature, detailed characterisation of exploits and of mental, moral, and physical qualities. In the Greek romance, on the other hand, as in Latin (if we may judge from the Satiræ of Petronius), the story is everything. The reader is hurried from adventure to adventure, the wilder and more improbable the better ; fine writing is practically disregarded ; description and appreciation of nature are, to all intents and purposes, non-existent. The only Greek romance, it seems to me, that can, by the utmost stretch of imagination, be compared even superficially with the works of Subandhu and Bāṇa is the Ποιμενικά of Longos ; but even there the sole real similarity is a longing for nature rather than for feverish adventure, a longing which may be traced back to Theokritos, Bion, and Moschos on the one hand, and to Bhartṛhari and his congeners on the other. Even the Daśakumā- racarita, which, as a picaresque romance, one might be tempted to compare with the works of Achilles Tatios, Heliodoros, and Chariton, has a totally different plan from any Greek romance, tracing its ‘box arrangement’ of stories to the peculiarly Indian scheme which may be seen, for instance, in the Pañcatantra, the Kathāsaritsāgara, or the Jātakas, and which was later carried to Persia, where it was incorporated in The Thousand Nights and One Night, ultimately appearing in the Occident in the Decameron of Boccaccio.¹ The adventures narrated in Daṇḍin’s romance of ¹ For the ‘box arrangement’ in Egyptian see King Khufui and the Magicians (about 2000 B.C. ; tr. Maspero, Contes populaires de l’Égypte ancienne, 3 ed., pp. 23–42, Paris, 1906) ; and in Japanese cf. Bakin’s Shichiya no Kura (1810 A.D. ; Aston, History of Japanese Literature, pp. 359–360, London, 1901).