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

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).

38 VĀSAVADATTĀ roguery, moreover, bear no resemblance, either in plot or in episode, to the amorphisms of Eustathios and his fellows. To sum up, the spirit of the Sanskrit and of the Greek romancers is as divergent as the audiences of scholars on the one hand, and of weaklings on the other, for whom they wrote ; nor can any real affinity, much less any direct connexion, be traced between the romances of India and of Greece. The Double Recension of the Vāsavadattā. Like the Mahābhārata and the Rāmāyaṇa, the Vāsavadattā appears to be preserved in two distinct recensions, which I would tentatively call ‘northern’ and ‘southern.’ The first of these is represented by the text of Hall (Calcutta, 1859) and the second by the Madras edition of 1862, reprinted as an appendix to the present volume, as well as by Krishnamachariar’s text (Srirangam, 1906– 1908). The ‘southern’ text, to which Hall’s manuscript D seems also to belong, differs from the ‘northern’ chiefly in showing a large number of interpolations, particularly śleṣas, virōdhas, and other forms of similes appended to the series given by the ‘northern’ text. The spirit, however, of the ‘southern’ recension is identical with that of the ‘northern.’ There is, indeed, one omission of a complimentary allusion to the Buddhists (ed. Hall, p. 235) and of one derogatory reference to the Jains (ed. Hall, p. 297 ; cf. above, p. 7), but the retention of all other deprecia- tory mentions of both sects shows that the ‘southern’ redactor was not led to modify his text by any circumstances surrounding him ; nor is there any added allusion in the ‘southern’ text which seems to be specifically South Indian. It may be regarded as practically certain that the ‘northern’ text represents Subandhu’s original composition more closely than does the ‘southern’ recension, not only in view of the fact that the author of the romance was, in all probability, a native of northern India, where he almost indubitably wrote (cf. above, pp. 12–13), but also in consideration of the familiar principles of textual criticism that the shorter text is, other things being equal, to be preferred to the longer, and that the more difficult reading is to be preferred to the easier, since the ‘southern’ recension evidently seeks, by

INTRODUCTION 39 substitution or omission, to avoid many difficulties of word, phrase, or allusion which the 'northern' text boldly retains. Manuscripts and Editions of the Romance. For the manu- scripts of the Vāsavadattā and its commentators reference may be made to the catalogues of Sanskrit manuscripts enumerated by Aufrecht (Catalogus Catalogorum, 1. 566, 726; 2. 133–134, 224; 3. 120, Leipzig, 1891–1903). The principal commentators on the Vāsavadattā have been discussed by Hall (Introd., pp. 44–48), and I myself have written on 'Śivarāma's Com- mentary on the Vāsavadattā' (in JAOS. 24. 57–63), so that the problems there treated need not be repeated in this place. Although the editions of Subandhu's romance will be duly listed in the bibliography (see below, pp. 197–198), a more detailed discussion seems appropriate here. These editions are seven in number. The first and best-known, which represents the 'northern' recension, is that of Fitzedward Hall (Calcutta, 1859), based on eight manuscripts and accompanied by the gloss of Śivarāma Tripāṭhin, who flourished early in the eighteenth century. The introduction to this edition has become a classic among Sanskritists, and the learning which it evinces on every page renders it amply deserving of this honour. Hall's text, how- ever, represents a form really older than any of his manuscripts, being that of Śivarāma, in whose favour the editor repeatedly discarded the united authority of all his manuscripts, a method of textual criticism which may perhaps be considered open to objec- tion. The text of Hall has been reprinted verbatim by Jīvānanda Vidyāsāgara (Calcutta, 1874; 3d ed., 1907). The remaining five editions belong to the 'southern' recension. Of these the earliest is one in Telugu script (Madras, 1861), which was reprinted, with a correction of misprints, in Telugu (Madras, 1862) and Grantha script (Madras, 1870). The second of these, duly collated with the India Office copies of the other two, which Mr. F. W. Thomas, librarian of the India Office, London, most kindly placed at my disposal, is transcribed below (pp. 145–195). The text of this 'southern' recension is evidently later than the 'northern', since it abounds in interpolations, especially in the lengthened ślēṣas and

40 VĀSAVADATTĀ virōdhas. The three editions under consideration contain the same commentary, which has appeared to me to be negligible, and which, according to Mr. J. K. Balasubrahmanyam, the publisher of the Srirangam text (Pref. p. 1) to be mentioned below, 'is traditionally attributed to one Tippa Bhupala, but nothing is certain about it. For instance, just as we were completing this book we got a palm-leaf manuscript of this work containing a commentary said to be by one Ramanatha. On closer exami- nation it turned out to be neither more nor less than the commentary given in the Grantha and Telugu editions.' The same general recension, though with a number of interesting variations, is represented by the edition published at Srirangam in 1906–1908, on the basis of several old palm-leaf manuscripts. It also contains an admirably full, careful, and suggestive modern Sanskrit commentary and an equally noteworthy Sanskrit intro- duction by the editor, R. V. Krishnamachariar, of which I have most helpfully availed myself. I distinctly consider Hall's and this as the best editions of the Vāsavadattā that have yet appeared. The Telugu text is also represented, more closely, by T. V. Srinivasachariar's edition (Trichinopoly, 1906), which, I regret to say, seems to me to offer scope for some improvement. All the divergencies of the Madras, Srirangam, and Trichinopoly editions from the text of Hall will be found duly recorded in the footnotes to the present translation, while the variations of the 'southern' from the 'northern' recension will be indicated by parentheses in the appended transliteration, the portions of the 'northern' text omitted by the 'southern' being there supplied in square brackets. It will be clear that a critical text of the Vāsavadattā, which shall take into account all accessible manu- scripts, commentaries, and editions, is still a desideratum. The Remaining Sanskrit Prose Romances. Except for a digression on the relation sometimes held to exist between the Sanskrit and the Greek romance (see above, pp. 35–38), this Introduction to the Vāsavadattā has thus far purposely been restricted to Subandhu and his work, especially as Meyer (Daṇḍin's Daçakumāracaritam, die Abenteuer der zehn Prinzen,

pp. 1–139, Leipzig, 1902) and Collins (The Geographical Data of the Raghuvaṃśa and the Daśakumāracarita considered more especially in their Bearing upon the Date of these Works, Leipzig, 1907) have devoted admirable studies to Daṇḍin, while Peterson (Kādambarī, 2 ed., Introd., Bombay, 1889) has done a similar service for Bāṇa. Moreover, the Daśakumāracarita, Harṣacarita, and Kādambarī are all readily accessible, not only in numerous editions, which need not be enumerated here, but also in excellent translations (the Daśakumāracarita by Meyer, op. cit., and by Haberlandt, Munich, 1903; the Harṣacarita by Cowell and Thomas, London, 1897; and the Kādambarī by Ridding, London, 1896). It may not be amiss, however, to add a brief outline of such other Sanskrit romances as have thus far been analysed, though it must be borne in mind that further investiga- tions and additional and fuller catalogues of Sanskrit manuscripts will, in all probability, add to the sum of ākhyāna literature.¹ Omitting campūs on Rāma, Kṛṣṇa, Aniruddha, and Nala, as well as rifacimenti of the Mahābhārata and Rāmāyaṇa, and pseudo- histories of Śālivāhana and Mayūravarman, attention may here be called to two late Sanskrit romances. The first of these is the Yaśastilaka of Sōmadēva, who completed his romance in 959 A.D. The work has been analysed in detail by Peterson (Second Report of Operations in Search of Sanskrit Manuscripts in the Bombay Circle, pp. 33–49, Bombay, 1884) and has been edited by Śivadatta and Parab (Kāvyamālā, No. 70, 2 parts, Bombay, 1901–1903). It is a religious romance, treating of the conversion of Māridatta, king of Rājapura, from Brāhmanism to Jainism through the agency of his twin nephew and niece, whom he was about to offer in sacrifice, not knowing who they were, and through the arguments of the Jain sage Sudatta. The familiar device of the story within a story, whereby Māridatta’s nephew ¹ Krishnamachariar (Introd., pp. 1–2) notes the paucity of works of this type, but he enumerates the following which would otherwise have escaped my notice: Dhana- pāla’s Tilakamañjarī (ed. Bombay, 1903 = Kāvyamālā, No. 85), the Jain romance Gadyacintāmaṇi (variously ascribed to Vādībhasimha, Pradīpasimha, and Simhasūri), Abhinavabhaṭṭabāṇa’s Vīranārāyaṇa and Haricandra’s Jīvandharacampū, the frag- mentary Śrīkṛṣṇacarita of Agastyakavi, the lost Trāilōkyasundarī of Rudra, and the lost Taraṅgavatī. He also attempts to account for this scantiness (pp. 2–8).

42 VĀSAVADATTĀ tells his uncle all his history, and a series of reincarnations, as in the Daśakumāracarita and Kādambarī,¹ are both found in Sōmadēva’s romance, while learned precedents and, what is still more remarkable, explicit quotations from other poets, including Bāṇa, abound. Altogether, it is clear from Peterson’s admirable analysis that the Yaśastilaka richly deserves translation, both as belonging to a category of Sanskrit literature of which too few specimens are extant, and as a valuable source for additional knowledge of the tenets of the Jains. The second romance which should be noted in this connexion is Bāṇēśvara Vidyālaṃkāra Bhaṭṭācārya’s Citracampū, written in 1744 A.D. in honour of Citrasēna, king of Vardhamāna, and briefly analysed by Eggeling (Catalogue of the Sanskrit Manu- scripts in the Library of the India Office, 7. 1543–1545, London, 1904). This novel is characterised especially by a long dream, and by an unmistakable inculcation of Vāiṣṇavite Vēdāntism ; otherwise it offers but little of interest. ¹ See ‘Reincarnation as a Novelistic Device’, in WZKM. 18. 54–58. For reincar- nation in a modern Western novel see Margaret Potter’s Flame-Gatherers (London, 1904), and Bain’s Descent of the Sun (London, 1903). The earliest example known is the Egyptian Tale of the Two Brothers, written in the nineteenth dynasty (1375– 1202 B.C.; tr. Maspero, Contes populaires de l’Égypte ancienne, 3 ed., pp. 3–20, Paris, 1906). [Dr. Ogden draws my attention to a reference to Subandhu in an anthology of a certain Lakṣmaṇa, described by Peterson (Third Report of Operations in Search of Sanskrit Manuscripts in the Bombay Circle, p. 35, Bombay, 1887) under the title of Sūktāvali. The stanza, whose date is thus far unknown, is as follows (Peterson, op. cit., Appendix, p. 55) : jīyād gadyasudhādhunyāḥ subandhuḥ prabhavācalaḥ yad bhaṅgaślēṣam āsādya bhaṅgaḥ kavibhir āśritaḥ, ‘may Subandhu, in strength immovable, prevail over the nectarous stream of prose, for since he gained combination after the break- ing (of words into their component parts), the breaking (of words into their component parts) has been employed by poets.’]

VĀSAVADATTĀ OF SUBANDHU

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45 [2] Victorious is divine Sarasvatī, Who aideth bards of keen and nimble wit To see the world, as 'twere a jujube-fruit, Lying within the hollow of their hands. Victorious, too, is Hari, resting now, The while he smileth on the shepherd lads Whose upraised arms bend ¹ 'neath the awful weight Of their vast burden; yet cry unto him: ‘Ah, weary art thou, let the mountain be; We will sustain it, Kṛṣṇa, lord of all’! [3] May he ² whose waist is girded keep you safe, Yea, he whose serried furrows brightly shine; E'en while the zone he hath too tightly drawn Doth work distraction by its beauteousness.³ [4] Victorious is the god ⁴ whose crescent gleams Like to a silvern pearl by Umā set ⁵ Upon his brow, when from his blazing eye She gathereth the black collyrium. How blessèd are those souls beneficent Who work the weal of others, for to them The moon that openeth the lotus-buds Doth give a twofold meed of radiance ⁶! [5] The wise say sooth: ‘More loathsome than a snake Is he whose soul is filled with wickedness’: The serpent ⟨hateth the ichneumon tribe⟩, But leaves his brethren safe; while knavish folk With venomed tongues ⟨destroy their nearest kin⟩.⁷ ¹ Tel. ed. and Srirangam text, ‘arms bent in vain.’ ² Kṛṣṇa. ³ Tel. ed. interchanges this stanza with the one following. ⁴ Śiva. ⁵ Srirangam text, against the metre, adds ‘upon his head. ⁶ Translated in Böhtlingk, Indische Sprüche, 2 ed., No. 4552, St. Petersburg, 1870–1873. ⁷ Böhtlingk, op. cit. No. 6214. The stanza is still popular in Mithila (see Grierson,

46 VĀSAVADATTĀ [6] In evil only are the wicked wise; Like as the owl is blind, save in the dark.¹ There is but one eclipse—foul calumny; Only the clouds that hide the moon are black.² [7] And when with sooty and polluting touch The man of evil fain would smirch the good, He doth increase the radiance of the just; E'en as the ashes in the grinder's hand Do but enhance the lustrous mirror's sheen.³ Yet ‹drought doth rule› o'er all, the «cranes sport not», Nor doth the ⋘heron seek the azure vault⋙, For lo, the lake hath left this mortal world; All ‹joy is fled›, and «strange kings now bear rule», Wasting the earth with ⋘fratricidal⋙ strife, For Vikramāditya hath passed away.⁴ [8] The words of goodly bards rejoice thine ears, E'en when thou knowest not their wondrous skill; For in a jasmine wreath thine eyes delight, Though to thy senses come no perfumes sweet.⁵ The noble gain true knowledge of themselves By observation of their fellow men; As on the mirror's polished surface falls The vision of the soul's own magnitude.⁶

Curiosities of Indian Literature, pp. 8–9, Bankipore, 1895, who says : ‘ Here naku- ladvēṣī is a threefold pun. It means either “hating the ichneumon,” or “not hating his own race,” or “not hating the members of the family of the man he has bitten”).’ My attention was kindly called to this reference by Professor Zachariae (card of May 2, 1907), and Dr. Grierson very courteously loaned me his personal copy of the little book. It should be noted that the modern proverb reads mṛṣā na instead of na mṛṣā. ¹ Böhtlingk, Indische Sprüche, 2 ed., No. 142, St. Petersburg, 1870–1873. ² Böhtlingk, op. cit. No. 6126; Tel. ed. and Srirangam text interchange this stanza with the one following. ³ Böhtlingk, op. cit. No. 7376. ⁴ For the valuelessness of this stanza as a source to determine the date of the Vāsavadattā see Introduction, pp. 8–11. ⁵ Böhtlingk, op. cit. No. 680. ⁶ Böhtlingk, op. cit. No. 2148.

A SANSKRIT ROMANCE 47 [9] Through great Sarasvatī this book was writ By Sujana's one brother, whom mankind Doth call Subandhu, skilled full dextrously To interweave in every word a pun.¹ [10] There was a king named Cintāmaṇi, whose like had never existed,² whose nail-jewelled feet were unscarred, though rubbed by the edge of a touchstone which was the series of the beautiful crest-gems of the circle of all the princes of the earth. [11] He caused astonishment by ‹gifts of gold, food, raiment, and estates› as Nṛsiṁha caused astonishment by ‹rending the body of Hiraṇyakaśipu› ³; he gave joy to the ‹divinities by his goods› as Kṛṣṇa gave joy to ‹Vasudēva› ; [12] he ‹conquered with ease› the circle of the earth as Nārāyaṇa ‹upheld› the circle of the world by his ‹boar's form›; he produced ‹glorious and blissful› prosperity as Kaṁsa's foe produced prosperity for ‹Yaśōdā and Nanda›; he made ‹poetry honoured› as Ānaka- dundubhi made ‹Kāvyā afraid› ⁴; [13] he had his lotus ⁵ feet embellished by the rays ⁶ of the crest-jewels of ‹many serpents› as Sāgaraśāyi had his lotus ⁵ feet embellished by the rays ⁶ of the crest-jewel of the ‹cosmic serpent›; he protected ‹unceasingly› as Varuṇa protected the ‹western regions›; he adorned ‹petitions with gifts› as Agastya adorned the ‹southern districts›; he was the lord of a hundred ‹armies› and «habitually levied just taxes» as the ocean is the lord of a hundred ‹rivers› and is the «habitat of fish»; [14] he was followed by a ‹great army› and repulsed «obstacles» as Hara is followed by ‹Mahāsēna› and repulses «Māra»; he was the home of the ‹wise› and the dwelling-place of the «acts of all men» as Mēru is the home of the ‹gods› and the dwelling-place of «Viśvakarman»; he ‹rejoiced in generosity at festal times› and removed sorrow by his «beauty» as the sun ‹loves not the night› and removes the sorrow of «Chāyā»; he ¹ Omitted by Tel. ed. and Srirangam text. Cf. Introduction, p. 13. ² Tel. ed., 'of no mean nature.' For a somewhat similar description of a king see Kādambarī, pp. 7–14, Bombay ed., 1890 (tr. Ridding, pp. 3–5, London, 1896). ³ Cf. Viṣṇupurāṇa, 1. 17–20. ⁴ Cf. Harivaṁśa, 59. ⁵ Tel. ed. and Srirangam text omit 'lotus.' ⁶ Tel. ed., 'series.'

48 VĀSAVADATTĀ gave ‹unimpeded› prosperity and afforded delight in «intercourse» as the God of the Flowery Banner¹ gave prosperity to ‹Ani- ruddha› and afforded delight to «Rati». [15] Though a ‹demigod›, he was a «god», for he was a «benevolent» ‹receptacle of wisdom› ; though a ‹Dhṛtarāṣṭra›, he was a «friend of Bhīma», for he was a ‹ruler of a kingdom› «who loved virtue» ; though ‹come to earth›, he took refuge ² in the «courts of the gods», for he was ‹filled with patience› and took refuge ² in «good government» ; [16] though a ‹great reed› by nature, he was «smooth» within, for his was the nature of ‹Arjuna›, «upright» within ; [17] though born of a ‹buffalo›, he was «begotten by a bull», for he was born of a ‹queen› and was a «producer of government» ; though no ‹central gem of a neck- lace›, he was the «midmost jewel of a throat-band», for he was a ‹fearless›, «mighty leader». While he ruled the earth, ‹quibblings ³ and fallacies› were practised only in arguments ⁴ (for there was no need of ‹habitually checking deceit› ⁵) ; [18] there was ‹infidelity› only among materialists (for there was no ‹poverty›) ; there was employment of a ‹spur› only in executing commands ⁶ (for there was no employment of ‹petty enemies›) ; there was ‹picking› [19] only on lutes (for there was no ‹back-biting›) ; there was association with ‹threshing-floors› only in the case of rice (for there was no association with ‹evil men›) ; there was capture of ‹snakes› only among serpent-charmers (for there was no need to capture ‹liars›) ; ‹imposts› were cut only in the receipt of taxes (for there was no amputation of ‹hands› ⁷) ; ‹roots› were plucked out only in the case of «wormwood-trees» (for «ascetics» did not pluck out their ‹eyes›) ; [20] only lotuses opposed the ‹moon› (for there was no opposition to ‹Brāhmans› ⁸) ; ‹‘ ruler of the world ’› was applied only to the elephant of the north ⁹ (but not to any man ¹ Kāma. ² Srirangam text, ‘ he was the refuge of.’ ³ Srirangam text adds ‘ futile answers.’ ⁴ Tel. ed., ‘ only in Nyāya textbooks.’ ⁵ Srirangam text adds ‘ and castes.’ ⁶ Tel. ed. and Srirangam text, ‘ only in yōga-exercises.’ ⁷ Tel. ed. and Srirangam text, ‘ there was hand-cutting only in blossoms.’ ⁸ Tel. ed. and Srirangam text, ‘ the king.’ ⁹ Tel. ed. and Srirangam text, ‘ only to the world-elephants.’