Rajah Virata, now enlightened as to the names and proper rank of the Pandavas, engaged to assist them in regaining their Raj; though, after recent events, it is hard to comprehend what assistance such heroes could want from Virata, or anyone else. To cement the alliance between his royal house and that of the Pandavas, Virata offered his lovely daughter, Uttará, in marriage to Arjuna. That hero, however, had been the fair damsel’s dancing-master and on intimate terms with her in the harem. He, therefore, with fine delicacy of sentiment, declined the offer, lest suspicions injurious to the lady’s reputation might be whispered about; but, to attest her fair fame in the most conclusive and impressive way, he accepted her hand for his son, Abhimanyu, to whom she was duly married in the presence of an assembly of kings invited for the occasion, including Krishna, who came attended by a “hundred millions of horse and a hundred billions of foot-soldiers.”
A resort to the final arbitrament of battle seemed inevitable, and warlike preparations were vigorously pushed on by both parties, who despatched their envoys in all directions, requesting the assistance of their friends and allies. Krishna had returned to Dwarka after the marriage festivities at Panchala. Both sides anxiously sought his alliance. Duryodhana and Arjuna posted in hot haste to Dwarka to secure the aid of the mighty Prince of the Vreshnis, and both of them arrived simultaneously at Krishna’s abode while he was asleep. As privileged kinsmen they entered his bed-chamber and placed themselves near his bed, Duryodhana at the head and Arjuna at the foot, but did not dare to disturb him. As soon as Krishna awoke from his slumber the two chieftains eagerly claimed his help. As he was equally related to both he desired to divide his favours between them. He placed himself, but strictly as a non-combatant, on one side, and, on the other, his army of a hundred million soldiers, and offered Arjuna, as he had seen him first upon awakening, the choice between the two. Without any hesitation Arjuna chose Krishna himself, leaving the mighty army of one hundred millions to swell the ranks of Duryodhana’s host.
But before having recourse to arms one party at least deemed it expedient to endeavour to effect a reconciliation by negotiations; and it takes one’s breath away with astonishment to find the mighty Pandava heroes—after all the gross indignities they had suffered, after the outrageous insults to which their joint-wife had been exposed, and after their terrible vows of vengeance publicly uttered—tamely proposing to make peace with their arrogant cousins on condition of having nothing more than five villages assigned to them. All this, too, in the face of Draupadi’s bitter and indignant taunts. However, even this humble offer of theirs was scornfully rejected by Duryodhana. But the Pandavas, even Bhima and Arjuna, being still anxious to avoid shedding the blood of their kinsfolk, Krishna undertook to act as their ambassador, and in this capacity presented himself at the capital of Dhritarashtra. His reception was of the most magnificent kind, and his mission was attended by many supernatural events. When the princes and great officers of State were assembled in solemn conclave to consider Krishna’s proposals, a number of Brahman sages appeared in the sky, and were respectfully invited to come down and take part in the deliberations of the assembly, an invitation they readily accepted. A prolonged sitting of the council took place, during which many speeches, embellished with instructive stories of olden times, were made in order to induce Duryodhana to come to terms with the Pandavas. Advice was, however, thrown away upon the haughty and obstinate prince, who left the chamber in great indignation.
Krishna, seeing that Duryodhana was bent on pushing matters to extremities, expressed an opinion that the best course for the old Maharajah to pursue would be to seize the young prince and his abettors and make them over to the Pandavas. He argued that “For the sake of a family an individual may be sacrificed; for the sake of a village a family may be sacrificed; for the sake of a province a village may be sacrificed; and, lastly, for the sake of one’s self the whole earth may be sacrificed;” and concluded with this exhortation: “O monarch, binding Duryodhana fast, make peace with the Pandavas. O bull among Kshatriyas let not the whole Kshatriya race be slaughtered on thy account.” This proposal being secretly communicated to Duryodhana, he in turn plotted to seize and confine Krishna, but his plan was discovered by that monarch. Now, as the reader is aware, Krishna was no mere mortal, but an incarnation of the Supreme Being. Addressing the prince the next time they met, he said:
“From delusion, O Duryodhana, thou regardest me to be alone, and it is for this, O thou of little understanding, that thou seekest to make me a captive after vanquishing me with violence. Here, however, are all Pandavas and all the Vrishnis and Andhakas. Here are all the Adityas, the Rudras, and the Vasus with all the great Rishis. Saying this, Keçava (Krishna), that slayer of hostile heroes, burst out into loud laughter. And as the high-souled Cawri laughed, from his body, that resembled a blazing fire, issued myriads of gods, each of lightning effulgence and not bigger than the thumb! And on his forehead appeared Brahma, and on his breast Rudra. And on his arms appeared the regents of the world, and from his mouth issued Agni, the Adityas, the Sáddhyas, the Vasus, the Açwins, the Maruts, with Indra and the Viçwedevas. And myriads of Yakshas and Gandharvas, and Rakshasas also, of the same measure and form, issued thence. And from his two arms issued Sankarshana and Dhananjaya. And Arjuna stood on his right, bow in hand, and Rama stood on his left, armed with the plough. And behind him stood Bhima and Yudhisthira, and the two sons of Madri, and before him were all the Andhakas and the Vrishnis, with Praddyumna and other chiefs bearing mighty weapons upraised. And on his diverse arms were seen the conch, the discus, the mace, the bow called Cáruga, the plough, the javelin, the Nandaka, and every other weapon, all shining with effulgence and upraised for striking. And from his eyes and nose and ears, and every part of his body, issued fierce sparks of fire mixed with smoke.” All, except a few privileged ones, closed their eyes, unable to bear the splendour of this divine manifestation, which was attended with an earthquake, celestial music, and a shower of heavenly flowers.
After this amazing display of his personality as the very embodiment of all the gods, Krishna, resuming his human form, left the hall leaning on the arms of two of his kinsmen. The perverse Duryodhana, however, regarded this exhibition of Krishna’s godhood as a mere illusion—a clever conjuror’s trick[91]—and, doomed to destruction as he was, treated it with contemptuous disregard.
The envoy’s mission having thus failed, he prepared for an immediate return to his friends. Before setting out he paid a friendly visit to his aunt Kunti, the mother of the Pandavas; and, as a last piece of diplomacy, artfully endeavoured to detach Karna from Duryodhana’s party. He disclosed to the famous bowman that he was Kunti’s son and, therefore, morally, a son of Pandu; since, according to the scriptures, sons “born of a maiden have him for their father who weddeth the maiden.” According to this system of paternity, Karna was not only Pandu’s son, but the elder brother of Yudhisthira; and, as such, entitled to the headship of the Pandava family, to the sovereignty of Hastinapur, and to supremacy over the kings of the whole earth. Krishna represented this aspect of the matter to Karna in the most tempting manner possible, not failing to mention that, if he joined his brothers, the fair Draupadi would be his wife too. But he, who had thus far gone through life known as the humble Suta’s son, had the manliness to treat these offers and suggestions of the divine Prince of Dwarka with proud indifference, adhering with unshaken loyalty to his friend Duryodhana, and the party with which he had been so long associated. The crafty Krishna then urged the absolute certainty of the complete success of the Pandavas in the contest which was approaching; but no cowardly fears disturbed the settled resolution of the hero, who, as he said, was pledged to meet Arjuna in the field of battle and would not, even if sure destruction awaited himself, withdraw from his obligations or shirk his obvious duty to the Kauravas.
Kunti herself next made an effort to win over Karna to the side of the Pandavas. For this purpose she stealthily followed him to the banks of the Ganges and stood silently behind him while he piously performed his devotions. When he discovered her, and respectfully inquired the object of her presence there, she disclosed to him the secret of his parentage, and with well-chosen arguments urged him to join his brothers. An affectionate voice issuing from the sun, the voice of Surya himself, confirmed the statements and supported the advice of Kunti. But Karna, “firmly devoted to truth,” even though thus solicited by both his parents, protested his determination to remain firmly faithful to the cause of his friends. He gently reproached his mother for her abandonment of him in his infancy and her subsequent neglect of her maternal duties, but, with noble generosity, he made an important concession in favour of the Pandavas. “I will not speak deceitfully unto thee;” said the hero, “For the sake of Dhritarashtra’s son I shall fight with thy sons to the best of my strength and might! I must not, however, abandon kindness and the conduct that becometh the good. Thy words, therefore, however beneficial, cannot be obeyed by me now. This thy solicitation to me will not yet be fruitless. Except Arjuna, thy other sons—Yudhisthira, Bhima, and the twins, though capable of being withstood by me in fight, and capable also of being slain—shall not yet be slain by me.” Thus did the magnanimous Karna worthily close one of the most interesting incidents in the great epic.
War was now inevitable. Krishna returned to Yudhisthira, and both parties prepared to join issue on the famous field of Kurukshetra.[92]
The Pandavas gave the supreme command of their forces to Dhrista-dyumna who, as the reader will remember, was the destined slayer of Drona. The Kauravas marshalled their cohorts under the leadership of the terrible Bhisma. This ancient chief had performed mighty deeds in his day; and proudly recounted, in the camp at Kurukshetra, his terrible and successful duel with Rama, the son of Jamadagni, a hero who had, single-handed, vanquished all the Kshatriyas of the earth.