Part 20

All is henceforth martial and stormy in the "parvas" that ensue. The two enormous hosts march to the field, generalissimos are selected, and defiances of the most violent and abusive sort exchanged. Yet there are traces of a singular civilisation in the rules which the leaders draw up to be observed in the war. Thus, no stratagems are to be used; the fighting men are to fraternise, if they will, after each combat; none may slay the flier, the unarmed, the charioteer, or the beater of the drum; horsemen are not to attack footmen, and nobody is to fling a spear till the preliminary challenges are finished; nor may any third man interfere when two combatants are engaged. These curious regulations--which would certainly much embarrass Von Moltke--are, sooth to say, not very strictly observed, and, no doubt, were inserted at a later age in the body of the poem by its Brahman editors. Those same interpolaters have overloaded the account of the eighteen days of terrific battle which follow with many episodes and interruptions, some very eloquent and philosophic; indeed, the whole Bhagavad-Gîta comes in hereabouts as a religious interlude. Essays on laws, morals, and the sciences are grafted, with lavish indifference to the continuous flow of the narrative, upon its most important portions; but there is enough of solid and tremendous fighting, notwithstanding, to pale the crimson pages of the Greek Iliad itself. The field glitters, indeed, with kings and princes in panoply of gold and jewels, who engage in mighty and varied combats, till the earth swims in blood, and the heavens themselves are obscured with dust and flying weapons. One by one the Kaurava chiefs are slain, and Bhíma, the giant, at last meets in arms Duhsasana, the Kaurava prince who had dragged Draupadí by the hair. He strikes him down with the terrible mace of iron, after which he cuts off his head, and drinks of his blood, saying, "Never have I tasted a draught so delicious as this." So furious now becomes the war that even the just and mild Arjuna commits two breaches of Aryan chivalry,--killing an enemy while engaged with a third man, and shooting Karna dead while he is extricating his chariot-wheel and without a weapon. At last none are left of the chief Kauravas except Duryodhana, who retires from the field and hides in an island of the lake. The Pandavas find him out, and heap such reproaches on him that the surly warrior comes forth at length, and agrees to fight with Bhíma. The duel proves of a tremendous nature, and is decided by an act of treachery; for Arjuna, standing by, reminds Bhíma, by a gesture, of his oath to break the thigh of Duryodhana, because he had bidden Draupadí sit on his knee. The giant takes the hint, and strikes a foul blow, which cripples the Kaurava hero, and he falls helpless to earth. After this the Pandava princes are declared victorious, and Yudhishthira is proclaimed king.

The great poem soon softens its martial music into a pathetic strain. The dead have to be burned, and the living reconciled to their new lords; while afterwards King Yudhishthira is installed in high state with "chámaras, golden umbrellas, elephants, and singing." He is enthroned facing towards the east, and touches rice, flowers, earth, gold, silver, and jewels, in token of owning all the products of his realm. Being thus firmly seated on his throne, with his cousins round him, the Rajah prepares to celebrate the most magnificent of ancient Hindu rites,--the Aswamedha, or Sacrifice of the Horse. It is difficult to raise the thoughts of a modern and Western public to the solemnity, majesty, and marvel of this antique Oriental rite, as viewed by Hindus. The monarch who was powerful enough to perform it chose a horse of pure white colour, "like the moon," with a saffron tail, and a black right ear; or the animal might be all black, without a speck of colour. This steed, wearing a gold plate on its forehead, with the royal name inscribed, was turned loose, and during a whole year the king's army was bound to follow its wanderings. Whithersoever it went, the ruler of the invaded territory must either pay homage to the king, and join him with his warriors, or accept battle; but whether conquered or peacefully submitting, all these princes must follow the horse, and at the end of the year assist at the sacrifice of the consecrated animal. Moreover, during the whole year the king must restrain all passion, live a perfectly purified life, and sleep on the bare ground. The white horse could not be loosened until the night of the full moon in Chaitra, which answers to the latter half of March and the first half of April,--in fact, at Easter-time; and it may be observed here that this is not the only strange coincidence in the sacrifice. It was thus an adventure of romantic conquest, mingled with deep religion and arrogant ostentation; and the entire description of the Aswamedha would prove most interesting. The horse is found, is adorned with the golden plate, and turned loose, wandering into distant regions; where the army of Arjuna--for it was he who led Yudhishthira's forces--goes through twelve amazing adventures. They come, for instance, to a land of Amazons, all of wonderful beauty, wearing armour of pearls and gold, and equally fatal either to love or to fight with. These dazzling enemies, however, finally submit, as also the Rajah of the rich city of Babhruváhan, which possessed high walls of solid silver, and was lighted with precious jewels for lamps. The serpent people, in the same way, who live beneath the earth in the city of Vasuki, yield, after combat, to Arjuna. A thousand million semi-human snakemen dwelt there, with wives of consummate loveliness, possessing in their realm gems which would restore dead people to life, as well as a fountain of perpetual youth. Finally, Arjuna's host marches back in great glory, and with a vast train of vanquished monarchs, to the city of Hastinapura, where all the subject kings have audience of Yudhishthira, and the immense preparations begin for the sacrifice of the snow-white horse.

After all these stately celebrations, it might be expected that the great poem would conclude with the established glories of the ancient dynasty. But if the martial part of the colossal epic is "Kshatriyan," and the religious episodes "Brahmanic," the conclusion breathes the spirit of Buddhism. Yudhishthira sits grandly on the throne; but earthly greatness does not content the soul of man, nor can riches render weary hearts happy. A wonderful scene, which reads like a rebuke from the dead addressed to the living upon the madness of all war, occurs in this part of the poem. The Pandavas and the old King Dhritarashtra being together by the banks of the Ganges, the great saint Vyása undertakes to bring back to them all the departed, slain in their fratricidal conflict. The spectacle is at once terrible and tender.

But this revealing of the invisible world deepens the discontent of the princes, and when the sage Vyása tells them that their prosperity is near its end, they determine to leave their kingdom to younger princes, and to set out with their faces towards Mount Meru, where is Indra's heaven. If, haply, they may reach it, there will be an end of this world's joys and sorrows, and "union with the Infinite" will be obtained. My translations from the Sanskrit of the two concluding parvas of the poem (of which the above is a swift summary) describe the "Last Journey" of the princes and their "Entry into Heaven;" and herein occurs one of the noblest religious apologues not only of this great Epic but of any creed,--a beautiful fable of faithful love which may be contrasted, to the advantage of the Hindu teaching, with any Scriptural representations of Death, and of Love, "which stronger is than Death." There is always something selfish in the anxiety of Orthodox people to save their own souls, and our best religious language is not free from that taint of pious egotism. The Parvas of the Mahábhárata which contain Yudhishthira's approach to Indra's paradise teach, on the contrary, that deeper and better lesson nobly enjoined by an American poet--

"The gate of heaven opens to none alone, Save thou one soul, and it shall save thine own."

These prefatory remarks seemed necessary to introduce the subjoined close paraphrase of the "Book of the Great Journey,"--and the "Book of the Entry into Heaven;" being the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Parvas of the noble but, as yet, almost unknown Mahábhárata.

THE MAHAPRASTHÁNIKA PARVA OF THE MAHÁBHÁRATA.

"THE GREAT JOURNEY."

To Narayen, Lord of lords, be glory given, To sweet Saraswati, the Queen in Heaven, To great Vyása, eke, pay reverence due, So shall this story its high course pursue.

Then Janmejaya prayed: "Thou Singer, say, What wrought the princes of the Pandavas On tidings of the battle so ensued, And Krishna, gone on high?"

Answered the Sage: "On tidings of the wreck of Vrishni's race, King Yudhishthira of the Pandavas Was minded to be done with earthly things, And to Arjuna spake: 'O noble Prince, Time endeth all; we linger, noose on neck, Till the last day tightens the line, and kills. Let us go forth to die, being yet alive,' And Kunti's son, the great Arjuna, said: 'Let us go forth to die!--Time slayeth all; We will find Death, who seeketh other men.' And Bhimasena, hearing, answered: 'Yea! We will find Death!' and Sahadev cried: 'Yea!' And his twin brother Nakula: whereat The princes set their faces for the Mount.

"But Yudhishthira--ere he left his realm, To seek high ending--summoned Yuyutsu, Surnamed of fights, and set him over all, Regent, to rule in Parikshita's name Nearest the throne; and Parikshita king He crowned, and unto old Subhadra said: 'This, thy son's son, shall wear the Kuru crown, And Yadu's offspring, Vajra, shall be first In Yadu's house. Bring up the little prince Here in our Hastinapur, but Vajra keep At Indraprasth; and let it be thy last Of virtuous works to guard the lads, and guide.'

"So ordering ere he went, the righteous king Made offering of white water, heedfully, To Vasudev, to Rama, and the rest,-- All funeral rites performing; next he spread A funeral feast, whereat there sate as guests Narada, Dwaipayana, Bharadwaj, And Markandeya, rich in saintly years, And Tajnavalkya, Hari, and the priests. Those holy ones he fed with dainty meats In kingliest wise, naming the name of Him Who bears the bow: and--that it should be well For him and his--gave to the Brahmanas Jewels of gold and silver, lakhs on lakhs. Fair broidered cloths, gardens and villages, Chariots and steeds and slaves.

"Which being done,-- O Best of Bhârat's line!--he bowed him low Before his Guru's feet,--at Kripa's feet, That sage all honoured,--saying, 'Take my prince; Teach Parikshita as thou taughtest me; For hearken, ministers and men of war! Fixed is my mind to quit all earthly state.' Full sore of heart were they, and sore the folk To hear such speech, and bitter spread the word Through town and country, that the king would go; And all the people cried, 'Stay with us, Lord!' But Yudhishthira knew the time was come, Knew that life passes and that virtue lasts, And put aside their love.

"So--with farewells Tenderly took of lieges and of lords-- Girt he for travel, with his princely kin, Great Yudhishthira, Dharma's royal son. Crest-gem and belt and ornaments he stripped From off his body, and, for broidered robe A rough dress donned, woven of jungle-bark; And what he did--O Lord of men!--so did Arjuna, Bhíma, and the twin-born pair, Nakula with Sahadev, and she--in grace The peerless--Draupadí. Lastly these six, Thou son of Bhârata! in solemn form Made the high sacrifice of Naishtiki, Quenching their flames in water at the close; And so set forth, 'midst wailing of all folk And tears of women, weeping most to see The Princess Draupadí--that lovely prize Of the great gaming, Draupadí the Bright-- Journeying afoot; but she and all the Five Rejoiced, because their way lay heavenwards.

"Seven were they, setting forth,--princess and king, The king's four brothers, and a faithful dog. Those left Hastinapur; but many a man, And all the palace household, followed them The first sad stage; and, ofttimes prayed to part, Put parting off for love and pity, still Sighing 'A little farther!'--till day waned; Then one by one they turned, and Kripa said, 'Let all turn back, Yuyutsu! These must go.' So came they homewards, but the Snake-King's child, Ulùpi, leapt in Ganges, losing them; And Chitranâgad with her people went Mournful to Munipoor, whilst the three queens Brought Parikshita in.

"Thus wended they, Pandu's five sons and loveliest Draupadí, Tasting no meat, and journeying due east; On righteousness their high hearts bent, to heaven Their souls assigned; and steadfast trode their feet, By faith upborne, past nullah, ran, and wood, River and jheel and plain. King Yudhishthir Walked foremost, Bhíma followed, after him Arjuna, and the twin-born brethren next, Nakula with Sahadev; in whose still steps-- O Best of Bhârat's offspring!--Draupadí, That gem of women, paced; with soft, dark face,-- Beautiful, wonderful!--and lustrous eyes, Clear-lined like lotus-petals; last the dog, Following the Pandavas.

"At length they reach The far Lauchityan Sea, which foameth white Under Udayachâla's ridge.--Know ye That all this while Nakula had not ceased Bearing the holy bow, named Gandiva, And jewelled quiver, ever filled with shafts Though one should shoot a thousand thousand times. Here--broad across their path--the heroes see Agni, the god. As though a mighty hill Took form of front and breast and limb, he spake. Seven streams of shining splendour rayed his brow, While the dread voice said: 'I am Agni, chiefs! O sons of Pandu, I am Agni! Hail! O long-armed Yudhishthira, blameless king,-- O warlike Bhíma,--O Arjuna, wise,-- O brothers twin-born from a womb divine,-- Hear! I am Agni, who consumed the wood By will of Narayan for Arjuna's sake. Let this your brother give Gandiva back-- The matchless bow: the use for it is o'er. That gem-ringed battle-discus which he whirled Cometh again to Krishna in his hand For avatars to be; and need is none Henceforth of this most excellent bright bow, Gandiva, which I brought for Partha's aid From high Varuna. Let it be returned. Cast it herein!'

"And all the princes said, 'Cast it, dear brother!' So Arjuna threw Into that sea the quiver ever-filled, And glittering bow. Then led by Agni's light, Unto the south they turned, and so south-west, And afterwards right west, until they saw Dwaraka, washed and bounded by a main Loud-thundering on its shores; and here--O Best!-- Vanished the God; while yet those heroes walked, Now to the north-west bending, where long coasts Shut in the sea of salt, now to the north, Accomplishing all quarters, journeyed they; The earth their altar of high sacrifice, Which these most patient feet did pace around Till Meru rose.

"At last it rose! These Six, Their senses subjugate, their spirits pure, Wending alone, came into sight--far off In the eastern sky--of awful Himavan; And, midway in the peaks of Himavan, Meru, the Mountain of all mountains, rose, Whose head is Heaven; and under Himavan Glared a wide waste of sand, dreadful as death.

"Then, as they hastened o'er the deadly waste, Aiming for Meru, having thoughts at soul Infinite, eager,--lo! Draupadí reeled, With faltering heart and feet; and Bhíma turned Gazing upon her; and that hero spake To Yudhishthira: 'Master, Brother, King Why doth she fail? For never all her life Wrought our sweet lady one thing wrong, I think. Thou knowest, make us know, why hath she failed?'

"Then Yudhishthira answered: 'Yea, one thing. She loved our brother better than all else,-- Better than heaven: that was her tender sin, Fault of a faultless soul; she pays for that' 'So spake the monarch, turning not his eyes, Though Draupadí lay dead--striding straight on For Meru, heart-full of the things of heaven, Perfect and firm. But yet a little space, And Sahadev fell down, which Bhíma seeing, Cried once again: 'O King, great Madri's son Stumbles and sinks. Why hath he sunk?--so true, So brave and steadfast, and so free from pride!'

"'He was not free,' with countenance still fixed, Quoth Yudhishthira; 'he was true and fast And wise, yet wisdom made him proud; he hid One little hurt of soul, but now it kills.'

"So saying, he strode on--Kunti's strong son-- And Bhíma, and Arjuna followed him, And Nakula, and the hound; leaving behind Sahadev in the sands. But Nakula, Weakened and grieved to see Sahadev fall-- His loved twin-brother--lagged and stayed; and next Prone on his face he fell, that noble face Which had no match for beauty in the land,-- Glorious and godlike Nakula! Then sighed Bhíma anew: 'Brother and Lord! the man Who never erred from virtue, never broke Our fellowship, and never in the world Was matched for goodly perfectness of form Or gracious feature,--Nakula has fallen!'

"But Yudhishthira, holding fixed his eyes,-- That changeless, faithful, all-wise king,--replied: 'Yea, but he erred. The godlike form he wore Beguiled him to believe none like to him, And he alone desirable, and things Unlovely to be slighted. Self-love slays Our noble brother. Bhíma, follow! Each Pays what his debt was.'

"Which Arjuna heard, Weeping to see them fall; and that stout son Of Pandu, that destroyer of his foes, That prince, who drove through crimson waves of war, In old days, with his chariot-steeds of milk, He, the arch-hero, sank! Beholding this,-- The yielding of that soul unconquerable, Fearless, divine, from Sákra's self derived, Arjuna's,--Bhíma cried aloud: 'O king! This man was surely perfect. Never once, Not even in slumber when the lips are loosed, Spake he one word that was not true as truth. Ah, heart of gold, why art thou broke? O King! Whence falleth he?'

"And Yudhishthira said, Not pausing: 'Once he lied, a lordly lie! He bragged--our brother--that a single day Should see him utterly consume, alone, All those his enemies,--which could not be. Yet from a great heart sprang the unmeasured speech. Howbeit, a finished hero should not shame Himself in such wise, nor his enemy, If he will faultless fight and blameless die: This was Arjuna's sin. Follow thou me!'

"So the king still went on. But Bhíma next Fainted, and stayed upon the way, and sank; Yet, sinking cried, behind the steadfast prince: 'Ah, brother, see! I die! Look upon me, Thy well-beloved! Wherefore falter I, Who strove to stand?'