The bright and peerless? O my life, my wife,
May the great sun, may the Eight Powers of air,
Guard thee thou true and dear one on thy way."
Woman occupies an interesting place in many of the early fables of India. Sir Edwin Arnold has translated into English a number of the stories from the Hitopadesha, which has been called "the father of all fables," and may easily take rank with the illustrious Æsop. Stories which present womanly traits, the tricks and wiles of love, are there, and are graphically told. Such are the fables of The Prince and the Wife of the Merchant's Son, which illustrate how the darts of love, even in ancient India, struck their mark without waiting upon reason or social standing, as the handsome prince, son of Virasena, cries concerning the beautiful Lavanyavati: "The god of the five shafts has hit me; only her presence can cure my wound."
An account of woman in Hindoo literature would be incomplete without some allusion to the drama. This was developed after the Alexandrian conquest and shows marks of Greek influence. In the drama we may discern woman of Brahmanic India from an interesting viewpoint. Of all the dramatic productions of the Hindoo poets, there is none so famous as that of Shakuntala, by Kalidasa, the great court poet of Vikramaditya. As is true of many of the earlier Hindoo masterpieces the exact date of its composition is not known. Some students place this work as early as the first, some as late as the fifth century of the Christian era. The drama of Shakuntala is of interest as illustrating the effect of caste. It is a drama in seven acts, and, because of its importance, its story may be recounted.
As King Dushyanta, King of India, is driving in his chariot through a forest, armed with his bows and arrows, in hot pursuit of a black antelope, a word forbids him to slay the innocent creature. It is the word of a hermit and the antelope belongs to the hermitage. The king is obedient to the request, and is conducted to the dwelling of the great saint Kanva, who is absent upon a distant pilgrimage, and has left his foster-daughter Shakuntala in charge of his companions. The king finds himself in the midst of a secret grove. He stops his chariot and alights. As he goes reverently through these holy woods "he feels a sudden throb in his arm. This argues happy love and soon he sees the maidens of the hermitage approaching to sprinkle the young shrubs with watering pots suited to their strength." Among these beautiful maidens, rare in form and grace, the king observes one especially; it is Shakuntala, foster-daughter of the hermit, half concealed by the trees, but standing "like a blooming bud enclosed within a sheath of yellow leaves." A beautiful girl is she, but the king stands puzzled. For if she be of purely Brahmanic birth, she is prohibited from marrying one of the warrior class, even though he be the king. As Shakuntala moves about watering the flowers of the wood, she starts a bee from one of the jasmine flowers. The bee pursues her, as if to do her harm with its sting, but Dushyanta comes to the rescue; and the fair girl of the hermitage feels some strange thrill as she sees the king, an unusual visitant in that hallowed neighborhood. Off she hurries with her two companions, but a series of happy accidents enables her to cast side glances at the king: a prickly Kusa-grass has stung her foot, she must wait a moment, a bush has caught her robe, she must stop to disentangle it. And love is born. In the second act, while Dushyanta is thinking of his love, two hermits arrive who tell him that demons have taken advantage of Kanva's absence from the sacred grove and are disturbing the sacrifices, and requests that he come and defend the grove from their intrusion. He consents with keen delight and he will not leave the grove, even though his mother requests his presence at a sacrifice offered in his own behalf. He sends his representative, but cautions him to say nothing concerning his love for the fair Shakuntala. In the third act, the king is discovered walking in the hermitage calling upon the god of love "whose shafts are flowers, though the flowers' darts are hard as steel." He tracks the object of his love by the broken stems of the flowers she had plucked in her rambles, and at length finds her in an arbor with her attendants. She reclines upon a stone bench strewn with flowers, she looks pale and wasted. Her maidens seek to know the cause of her sickness, and she tells her love in a poem, written on a lotus leaf. Just here the king rushes in and avows his passion. He tries to overcome her scruples against a marriage, so out of accord with the regulations of caste. He hears a voice of ill omen telling of the demons "swarming round the altar fires." He hastens to the rescue. In the fourth act, Shakuntala is seen wearing the signet ring of the king, which ring has the charm to restore the king's love, should it ever grow cold. Kanva returns from his pilgrimage in time to see the preparations being made for Shakuntala's departure. The old hermit submits resignedly to her going and gives his blessing to the departing one. The fifth act presents Dushyanta, like King Saul, overcome with a deep and stubborn melancholy. He is under a curse of Durvasas, and this induces complete forgetfulness of his wife Shakuntala. "Why has this strain," says the king, "thrown over me so deep a melancholy, as though I am separated from some loved one?" Here the hermit and Shakuntala, who is about to become a mother, are ushered into the presence of the king. He does not know her; denies he ever knew her. The Shakuntala is about to produce from her finger the ring which should be proof of the marriage. But, alas! she discovers it to be lost. "It must have slipped off, in the holy lake when thou wast offering sacrifices," said Gantami, who had accompanied her. The king laughs derisively. Despite her endeavors, the king fails to recollect the marriage. The sad Shakuntala buries her hands in her robes and sobs piteously. At length the ring is found by a fisherman, in the belly of a carp. It is brought to the king, who places it upon his finger, when he is overcome with a flood of recollections. But his wife and little son have been carried away to a secret grove far away from earth in the upper air. The king, conducted in the celestial car Indra, at length joins them. There the royal pair are reconciled and reunited, and the drama comes to a close with a prayer to Siva.
Many of the Hindoo lyrics breathe of love and woman's graces, showing now a high respect for womanly charms, now indulging in humor at her frailties. "The God of Love," says the poet Bhartrihari, "sits fishing on the ocean of the world, and on the end of his hook he has hung a woman. When the little human fishes come they are not on their guard, quickly he catches them and broils them in love's fire." Again, the poet sings: "She whom I love, loves another, while another is pleased with me." A song from the famous Kalidasa will illustrate the poet's attitude toward a woman of beauty.
"Thine eyes are blue like flowers; thy teeth
White jessamine; thy face is very like a lotus flower,
So thy body must be made of the leaves of