KING.—Most veracious Bráhman, grant that you are in the right, what end would be gained by betraying this lady?
ŚÁRNGARAVA.—Ruin.
KING.—No one will believe that a Prince of Puru's race would seek to ruin others or himself.
ŚÁRADWATA.—This altercation is idle, Śárngarava. We have executed the commission of our preceptor; come, let us return. [To the King.
Go on before us, Gautamí. [They move away.
ŚAKOONTALÁ.—What! is it not enough to have been betrayed by this
perfidious man? Must you also forsake me, regardless of my tears and
lamentations?
[Attempts to follow them.
GAUTAMÍ [stopping].—My son Śárngarava, see, Śakoontalá is following us, and with tears implores us not to leave her. Alas! poor child, what will she do here with a cruel husband who casts her from him?
ŚÁRNGARAVA [turning angrily towards her].—Wilful woman, dost thou
seek to be independent of thy lord?
[Śakoontalá trembles with fear.
ŚÁRNGARAVA.—Śakoontalá!
Thy duty, therefore, is to stay. As for us, we must return immediately.
KING.—Deceive not the lady, my good hermit, by any such expectations.
ŚÁRNGARAVA.—Since thy union with another woman has rendered thee oblivious of thy marriage with Śakoontalá, whence this fear of losing thy character for constancy and virtue?
KING [to the Priest],—You must counsel me, revered sir, as to my course of action. Which of the two evils involves the greater or less sin?
PRIEST [after deliberation].—You must take an intermediate course.
KING.—What course, revered sir? Tell me at once.
PRIEST.—I will provide an asylum for the lady in my own house until the birth of her child; and my reason, if you ask me, is this. Soothsayers have predicted that your first-born will have universal dominion. Now, if the hermit's daughter bring forth a son with the discus or mark of empire in the lines of his hand, you must admit her immediately into your royal apartments with great rejoicings; if not, then determine to send her back as soon as possible to her father.
KING.—I bow to the decision of my spiritual adviser.
PRIEST.—Daughter, follow me.
ŚAKOONTALÁ.—O divine earth, open and receive me into thy bosom!
[Exit Śakoontalá weeping, with the Priest and the Hermits. The King remains absorbed in thinking of her, though the curse still clouds his recollection.
A VOICE [behind the scenes].—A miracle! a miracle!
KING [listening].—What has happened now?
PRIEST [entering with an air of astonishment].—Great Prince, a stupendous prodigy has just occurred!
KING.—What is it?
PRIEST.—May it please your Majesty, so soon as Kanwa's pupils had departed,
KING.—Well, well, what happened then?
PRIEST.—When suddenly a shining apparition, In female shape, descended from the skies, Near the nymphs' pool, and bore her up to heaven. [All remain motionless with astonishment.
KING.—My good priest, from the very first I declined having anything to do with this matter. It is now all over, and we can never, by our conjectures, unravel the mystery; let it rest; go, seek repose.
PRIEST [looking at the King].—Be it so. Victory to the King! [Exit.
KING.—Vetravatí, I am tired out; lead the way to the bed-chamber.
WARDER.—This way, Sire. [They move away.
KING.—Do what I will, I cannot call to mind
[Exeunt.
Enter the King's brother-in-law as Superintendent of the city police; and with him two Constables, dragging a poor fisherman, who has his hands tied behind his back.
BOTH THE CONSTABLES [striking the prisoner].—Take that for a rascally thief that you are; and now tell us, sirrah, where you found this ring—aye, the King's own signet-ring. See, here is the royal name engraved on the setting of the jewel.
FISHERMAN [with a gesture of alarm].—Mercy! kind sirs, mercy! I did not steal it; indeed I did not.
FIRST CONSTABLE.—Oh! then I suppose the King took you for some fine Bráhman, and made you a present of it?
FISHERMAN.—Only hear me. I am but a poor fisherman, living at Śakrávatára———
SECOND CONSTABLE.—Scoundrel, who ever asked you, pray, for a history of your birth and parentage?
SUPERINTENDENT [to one of the Constables].—Súchaka, let the fellow tell his own story from the beginning. Don't interrupt him.
BOTH CONSTABLES.—As you please, master. Go on, then, sirrah, and say what you've got to say.
FISHERMAN.—You see in me a poor man, who supports his family by catching fish with nets, hooks, and the like.
SUPERINTENDENT [laughing].—A most refined occupation, certainly!
FISHERMAN.—Blame me not for it, master.
SUPERINTENDENT.—Well, well; go on with your story.
FISHERMAN.—One day I was cutting open a large carp I had just hooked, when the sparkle of a jewel caught my eye, and what should I find in the fish's maw but that ring! Soon afterwards, when I was offering it for sale, I was seized by your honors. Now you know everything. Whether you kill me, or whether you let me go, this is the true account of how the ring came into my possession.
SUPERINTENDENT [to one of the Constables].—Well, Jánuka, the rascal emits such a fishy odor that I have no doubt of his being a fisherman; but we must inquire a little more closely into this queer story about the finding of the ring. Come, we'll take him before the King's household.
BOTH CONSTABLES.—Very good, master. Get on with you, you cutpurse.
[All move on.
SUPERINTENDENT.—Now attend, Súchaka; keep you guard here at the gate; and hark ye, sirrahs, take good care your prisoner does not escape, while I go in and lay the whole story of the discovery of this ring before the King in person. I will soon return and let you know his commands.
CONSTABLE.—Go in, master, by all means; and may you find favor in the
King's sight!
[Exit Superintendent.
FIRST CONSTABLE [after an interval].—I say, Jánuka, the Superintendent is a long time away.
SECOND CONSTABLE.—Aye, aye; kings are not to be got at so easily. Folks must bide the proper opportunity.
FIRST CONSTABLE.—Jánuka, my fingers itch to strike the first blow at
this royal victim here. We must kill him with all the honors, you know.
I long to begin binding the flowers round his head.
[Pretends to strike a blow at the fisherman.
FISHERMAN.—Your honor surely will not put an innocent man to a cruel death.
SECOND CONSTABLE [looking].—There's our Superintendent at last, I declare. See, he is coming towards us with a paper in his hand. We shall soon know the King's command; so prepare, my fine fellow, either to become food for the vultures, or to make acquaintance with some hungry cur.
SUPERINTENDENT [entering].—Ho, there, Súchaka! set the fisherman at liberty, I tell you. His story about the ring is all correct.
SÚCHAKA.—Oh! very good, sir; as you please.
SECOND CONSTABLE.—The fellow had one foot in hell, and now here he is in the land of the living. [Releases him.
FISHERMAN [bowing to the Superintendent].—Now, master, what think you of my way of getting a livelihood?
SUPERINTENDENT.—Here, my good man, the King desired me to present you
with this purse. It contains a sum of money equal to the full value of
the ring.
[Gives him the money.
FISHERMAN [taking it and bowing].—His Majesty does me too great honor.
SÚCHAKA.—You may well say so. He might as well have taken you from the gallows to seat you on his state elephant.
JÁNUKA.—Master, the King must value the ring very highly, or he would never have sent such a sum of money to this ragamuffin.
SUPERINTENDENT.—I don't think he prizes it as a costly jewel so much as a memorial of some person he tenderly loves. The moment it was shown to him he became much agitated, though in general he conceals his feelings.
SÚCHAKA.—Then you must have done a great service———
JÁNUKA.—Yes, to this husband of a fish-wife.
[Looks enviously at the fisherman.
FISHERMAN.—Here's half the money for you, my masters. It will serve to purchase the flowers you spoke of, if not to buy me your good-will.
JÁNUKA.—Well, now, that's just as it should be.
SUPERINTENDENT.—My good fisherman, you are an excellent fellow, and I begin to feel quite a regard for you. Let us seal our first friendship over a glass of good liquor. Come along to the next wine-shop and we'll drink your health.
ALL.—By all means. [Exeunt.
The nymph Sánumatí is seen descending in a celestial car.
SÁNUMATÍ.—Behold me just arrived from attending in my proper turn at the nymphs' pool, where I have left the other nymphs to perform their ablutions, whilst I seek to ascertain, with my own eyes, how it fares with King Dushyanta. My connection with the nymph Menaká has made her daughter Śakoontalá dearer to me than my own flesh and blood; and Menaká it was who charged me with this errand on her daughter's behalf. [Looking round in all directions.] How is it that I see no preparations in the King's household for celebrating the great vernal festival? I could easily discover the reason by my divine faculty of meditation; but respect must be shown to the wishes of my friend. How then shall I arrive at the truth? I know what I will do. I will become invisible, and place myself near those two maidens who are tending the plants in the garden. [Descends and takes her station.
Enter a Maiden, who stops in front of a mango-tree and gazes at the blossom. Another Maiden is seen behind her.
FIRST MAIDEN.—Hail to thee, lovely harbinger of spring! The varied radiance of thy opening flowers Is welcome to my sight. I bid thee hail, Sweet mango, soul of this enchanting season.
SECOND MAIDEN.—Parabaitiká, what are you saying there to yourself?
FIRST MAIDEN.—Dear Madhukariká, am I not named after the Köil?[41] and does not the Köil sing for joy at the first appearance of the mango-blossom?
SECOND MAIDEN [approaching hastily, with transport].—What! is spring really come?
FIRST MAIDEN.—Yes, indeed, Madhukariká, and with it the season of joy, love, and song.
SECOND MAIDEN.—Let me lean upon you, dear, while I stand on tip-toe and pluck a blossom of the mango, that I may present it as an offering to the god of love.
FIRST MAIDEN.—Provided you let me have half the reward which the god will bestow in return.
SECOND MAIDEN.—To be sure you shall, and that without asking. Are we not one in heart and soul, though divided in body? [Leans on her friend and plucks a mango-blossom.] Ah! here is a bud just bursting into flower. It diffuses a delicious perfume, though not yet quite expanded. [Joining her hands reverentially.
[Throws down a mango-blossom.
CHAMBERLAIN [entering in a hurried manner, angrily].—Hold there, thoughtless woman. What are you about breaking off those mango-blossoms, when the King has forbidden the celebration of the spring festival?
BOTH MAIDENS [alarmed].—Pardon us, kind sir, we have heard nothing of it.
CHAMBERLAIN.—You have heard nothing of it? Why, all the vernal plants and shrubs, and the very birds that lodge in their branches, show more respect to the King's order than you do.
BOTH MAIDENS.—The mighty power of King Dushyanta is not to be disputed.
FIRST MAIDEN.—It is but a few days since Mitrávasu, the king's brother-in-law, sent us to wait upon his Majesty; and, during the whole of our sojourn here, we have been intrusted with the charge of the royal pleasure-grounds. We are therefore strangers in this place, and heard nothing of the order until you informed us of it.
CHAMBERLAIN.—Well then, now you know it, take care you don't continue your preparations.
BOTH MAIDENS.—But tell us, kind sir, why has the King prohibited the usual festivities? We are curious to hear, if we may.
SÁNUMATÍ [aside].—Men are naturally fond of festive entertainments. There must be some good reason for the prohibition.
CHAMBERLAIN.—The whole affair is now public; why should I not speak of it! Has not the gossip about the King's rejection of Śakoontalá reached your ears yet?
BOTH MAIDENS.—Oh yes, we heard the story from the King's brother-in-law, as far, at least, as the discovery of the ring.
CHAMBERLAIN.—Then there is little more to tell you. As soon as the King's memory was restored by the sight of his own ring, he exclaimed, "Yes, it is all true. I remember now my secret marriage with Śakoontalá. When I repudiated her, I had lost my recollection." Ever since that moment, he has yielded himself a prey to the bitterest remorse.
SÁNUMATÍ [aside].—To me this account is delightful.
CHAMBERLAIN.—In short, the King is so completely out of his mind that the festival has been prohibited.
BOTH MAIDENS.—Perfectly right.
A VOICE [behind the scenes].—The King! the King! This way, Sire, this way.
CHAMBERLAIN [listening].—Oh! here comes his majesty in this direction. Pass on, maidens; attend to your duties.
BOTH MAIDENS.—We will, sir. [Exeunt.
Enter King Dushyanta, dressed in deep mourning, attended by his Jester, Máthavya, and preceded by Vetravatí.
CHAMBERLAIN [gazing at the King].—Well, noble forms are certainly pleasing, under all varieties of outward circumstances. The King's person is as charming as ever, notwithstanding his sorrow of mind.
SÁNUMATÍ [aside. Looking at the King].—Now that I have seen him, I can well understand why Śakoontalá should pine after such a man, in spite of his disdainful rejection of her.
KING [walking slowly up and down, in deep thought].—
SÁNUMATÍ [aside].—My poor Śakoontalá's sufferings are very similar.
MÁTHAVYA [aside].—He is taken with another attack of this odious Śakoontalá fever. How shall we ever cure him?
CHAMBERLAIN [approaching].—Victory to the King! Great Prince, the royal pleasure-grounds have been put in order. Your Majesty can resort to them for exercise and amusement whenever you think proper.
KING.—Vetravatí, tell the worthy Piśuna, my prime minister, from me, that I am so exhausted by want of sleep that I cannot sit on the judgment-seat to-day. If any case of importance be brought before the tribunal he must give it his best attention, and inform me of the circumstances by letter.
VETRAVATÍ.—Your Majesty's commands shall be obeyed. [Exit.
KING [to the Chamberlain].—And you, Vátáyana, may go about your own affairs.
CHAMBERLAIN.—I will, Sire. [Exit.
MÁTHAVYA.—Now that you have rid yourself of these troublesome fellows, you can enjoy the delightful coolness of your pleasure-grounds without interruption.
KING.—Ah! my dear friend, there is an old adage—"When affliction has a mind to enter, she will find a crevice somewhere"—and it is verified in me.
MÁTHAVYA.—Well, then, wait a moment; I will soon demolish Master Káma's arrow with a cut of my cane. [Raises his stick and strikes off the mango-blossom.
KING [smiling].—That will do. I see very well the god of Love is not a match for a Bráhman. And now, my dear friend, where shall I sit down, that I may enchant my sight by gazing on the twining plants, which seem to remind me of the graceful shape of my beloved?
MÁTHAVYA.—Do you not remember? you told Chaturiká you should pass the heat of the day in the jasmine bower; and commanded her to bring the likeness of your queen Śakoontalá, sketched with your own hand.
KING.—True. The sight of her picture will refresh my soul. Lead the way to the arbor.
MÁTHAVYA.—This way, Sire. [Both move on, followed by Sánumatí.
MÁTHAVYA.—Here we are at the jasmine bower. Look, it has a marble seat, and seems to bid us welcome with its offerings of delicious flowers. You have only to enter and sit down. [Both enter and seat themselves.
SÁNUMATÍ [aside].—I will lean against these young jasmines. I can easily, from behind them, glance at my friend's picture, and will then hasten to inform her of her husband's ardent affection. [Stands leaning against the creepers.
KING.—Oh! my dear friend, how vividly all the circumstances of my union with Śakoontalá present themselves to my recollection at this moment! But tell me now how it was that, between the time of my leaving her in the hermitage and my subsequent rejection of her, you never breathed her name to me! True, you were not by my side when I disowned her; but I had confided to you the story of my love and you were acquainted with every particular. Did it pass out of your mind as it did out of mine?
MÁTHAVYA.—No, no; trust me for that. But, if you remember, when you had finished telling me about it, you added that I was not to take the story in earnest, for that you were not really in love with a country girl, but were only jesting; and I was dull and thick-headed enough to believe you. But so fate decreed, and there is no help for it.
SÁNUMATÍ [aside].—Exactly.
KING [after deep thought].—My dear friend, suggest some relief for my misery.
MÁTHAVYA.—Come, come, cheer up; why do you give way? Such weakness is unworthy of you. Great men never surrender themselves to uncontrolled grief. Do not mountains remain unshaken even in a gale of wind?
KING.—How can I be otherwise than inconsolable, when I call to mind the agonized demeanor of the dear one on the occasion of my disowning her?
SÁNUMATÍ [aside].—Alas! such is the force of self-reproach following a rash action. But his anguish only rejoices me.
MÁTHAVYA.—An idea has just struck me. I should not wonder if some celestial being had carried her off to heaven.
KING.—Very likely. Who else would have dared to lay a finger on a wife, the idol of her husband? It is said that Menaká, the nymph of heaven, gave her birth. The suspicion has certainly crossed my mind that some of her celestial companions may have taken her to their own abode.
SÁNUMATÍ [aside].—His present recollection of every circumstance of her history does not surprise me so much as his former forgetfulness.
MÁTHAVYA.—If that's the case, you will be certain to meet her before long.
KING.—Why?
MÁTHAVYA.—No father and mother can endure to see a daughter suffering the pain of separation from her husband.
KING.—Oh! my dear Máthavya,
MÁTHAVYA.—Do not despair in this manner. Is not this very ring a proof that what has been lost may be unexpectedly found?
KING [gazing at the ring].—Ah! this ring, too, has fallen from a station which it will not easily regain, and deserves all my sympathy.
SÁNUMATÍ [aside].—Had it found its way to the hand of any other person, then indeed its fate would have been deplorable.
MÁTHAVYA.—Pray, how did the ring ever come upon her hand at all?
SÁNUMATÍ.—I myself am curious to know.
KING.—You shall hear. When I was leaving my beloved Śakoontalá that I might return to my own capital, she said to me, with tears in her eyes, "How long will it be ere my lord send for me to his palace and make me his queen?"
MÁTHAVYA.—Well, what was your reply?
KING.—Then I placed the ring on her finger, and thus addressed her—
But, hard-hearted man that I was, I forgot to fulfil my promise, owing to the infatuation that took possession of me.
SÁNUMATÍ [aside].—A pleasant arrangement! Fate, however, ordained that the appointment should not be kept.
MÁTHAVYA.—But how did the ring contrive to pass into the stomach of that carp which the fisherman caught and was cutting up?
KING.—It must have slipped from my Śakoontalá's hand, and fallen into the stream of the Ganges, while she was offering homage to the water of Sachí's holy pool.
MÁTHAVYA.—Very likely.
SÁNUMATÍ [aside].—Hence it happened, I suppose, that the King, always fearful of committing the least injustice, came to doubt his marriage with my poor Śakoontalá. But why should affection so strong as his stand in need of any token of recognition?
KING.—Let me now address a few words of reproof to this ring.
MÁTHAVYA [aside].—He is going stark mad, I verily believe.
KING.—Hear me, thou dull and undiscerning bauble!
MÁTHAVYA [aside].—And so, I suppose, I must stand here to be devoured by hunger, whilst he goes on in this sentimental strain.
KING.—O forsaken one, unjustly banished from my presence, take pity on thy slave, whose heart is consumed by the fire of remorse, and return to my sight.
Enter Chaturiká hurriedly, with a picture in her hand.
CHATURIKÁ.—Here is the Queen's portrait. [Shows the picture.
MÁTHAVYA.—Excellent, my dear friend, excellent! The imitation of nature is perfect, and the attitude of the figures is really charming. They stand out in such bold relief that the eye is quite deceived.
SÁNUMATÍ [aside].—A most artistic performance! I admire the King's skill, and could almost believe that Śakoontalá herself was before me.
KING.—I own 'tis not amiss, though it portrays
SÁNUMATÍ [aside].—A very just remark from a modest man, whose affection is exaggerated by the keenness of his remorse.
MÁTHAVYA.—Tell me—I see three female figures drawn on the canvas, and all of them beautiful; which of the three is her Majesty, Śakoontalá?
SÁNUMATÍ [aside].—If he cannot distinguish her from the others, the simpleton might as well have no eyes in his head.
KING.—Which should you imagine to be intended for her?
MÁTHAVYA.—She who is leaning, apparently a little tired, against the stem of that mango-tree, the tender leaves of which glitter with the water she has poured upon them. Her arms are gracefully extended; her face is somewhat flushed with the heat; and a few flowers have escaped from her hair, which has become unfastened, and hangs in loose tresses about her neck. That must be the queen Śakoontalá, and the others, I presume, are her two attendants.
KING.—I congratulate you on your discernment. Behold the proof of my passion;
CHATURIKÁ.—Worthy Máthavya, have the kindness to hold the picture until I return.
KING.—Nay, I will hold it myself.
[Takes the picture. Exit Chaturiká.
KING.—My loved one came but lately to my presence
MÁTHAVYA [aside].—He has been fool enough to forego the reality for the semblance, the substance for the shadow. [Aloud.] Tell us, I pray, what else remains to be painted.
SÁNUMATÍ [aside].—He longs, no doubt, to delineate some favorite spot where my dear Śakoontalá delighted to ramble.
KING.—You shall hear———
MÁTHAVYA [aside].—Pooh! if I were he, I would fill up the vacant spaces with a lot of grizzly-bearded old hermits.
KING.—My dear Máthavya, there is still a part of Śakoontalá's dress which I purposed to draw, but find I have omitted.
MÁTHAVYA.—What is that?
SÁNUMATÍ [aside].—Something suitable, I suppose, to the simple attire of a young and beautiful girl dwelling in a forest.
KING.—A sweet Śirísha blossom should be twined
MÁTHAVYA.—Pray, why does the Queen cover her lips with the tips of her fingers, bright as the blossom of a lily, as if she were afraid of something? [Looking more closely.] Oh! I see; a vagabond bee, intent on thieving the honey of flowers, has mistaken her mouth for a rose-bud, and is trying to settle upon it.
KING.—A bee! drive off the impudent insect, will you?
MÁTHAVYA.—That's your business. Your royal prerogative gives you power over all offenders.
KING.—Very true. Listen to me, thou favorite guest of flowering plants; why give thyself the trouble of hovering here? See where thy partner sits on yonder flower, And waits for thee ere she will sip its dew.
SÁNUMATÍ [aside].—A most polite way of warning him off!
MÁTHAVYA.—You'll find the obstinate creature is not to be sent about his business so easily as you think.
KING.—Dost thou presume to disobey? Now hear me—
MÁTHAVYA.—He must be bold indeed not to show any fear when you threaten him with such an awful punishment. [Smiling, aside.] He is stark mad, that's clear; and I believe, by keeping him company, I am beginning to talk almost as wildly. [Aloud.] Look, it is only a painted bee.
KING.—Painted? impossible!
SÁNUMATÍ [aside].—Even I did not perceive it; how much less should he?
KING.—Oh! my dear friend, why were you so ill-natured as to tell me the truth?
[Sheds tears.