PROFESSOR WILLIAMS'S TRANSLATION* OF SAROONTALA.. THIS Indian drama dates from

the palmy days of Sanskrit litera- ture, in the first or second century before Christ; and though its age, as its accomplished translator observes, far exceeds that of any modern European drama, Europe may yet claim priority over the East by means of the Greek and Latin dramatic poets. A matter of more importance than age is merit, and the highest au- thorities are loud in favour of Sakoontald, or the Lost Ring. Cri- tical Hindoos assign the first rank to this play; the lapse of two thousand years has not, it is said, dimmed its popularity. Sir William Jones translated it into English prose, but from a cor- rupt manuscript. Goethe declared, in the language of poetry, that whoever wished to unite extremes—to have at once the flower and the fruit—must go to Sakoontalei. William von Schlegel terms it "delightful," and traces through its foreign colouring a strong re- semblance to "our romantic drama." Humboldt praises it, but in less enthusiastic terms. As regards poetical imagery and style, to which last the Eastern.. ascribe more substantial importance than the Western Europeans, the enduring praises of the Indian Brahmins and lower castes must be held conclusive and beyond appeal. All that is involved in the story and it treatment is equally conclusive as regards Hindoo merit. On this ground Western opinions are entitled to be heard, which as regards language and mere poetical depiction they were not ; for, although Oriental taste in the drama is not our taste, it does not follow that theirs is better. Judged by Western ideas of dramatic action, we think the praises that have been lavished upon Sakoon- • Sakoontala, or the Lost Ring: an Indian Drama. Translated into English Prose and Verse, from he SankritKalidssbMonier Willn4.:iTrofesn arntat the EastlnIanliegeraneib formerly 10icolariig BnereitiofOxford. Published by Austin, Hertford.

told by European writers somewhat overdone. Oriental customs of course there must be, and Oriental colouring ; but these would rather conduce to novelty and variety, so long as they were consist- ent with dramatic action or emotion. Caste is a stronger obstacle to the smooth course of true love than difference of fortune or the objections of parents. Polygamy, and the seclusion of women, with the consequent manners and ideas, also change the distresses of lovers. It is not so much the rival and the villain of the Western theatre that troubles the Eastern lover, as how the new wife may be received in the existing establishment, or the remorse contend- ing with the rising passion. On the female side, it is apprehension that actuates the new love, and a tolerably well-founded jealousy that moves the old ; passions which may and it is said occasionally do give rise to tragedies in the harem, but for dramatic purposes the distress would seem rather of the comic than the tragic cast. With different manners must of necessity come different senti- ments and ideas of social morality, but these likewise would all strike by novelty. This advice by a sage to an adopted daughter, when she is departing to her husband's home, evidently emanates from a social system where man looks for a patient Grizzle.

" KANWA.

Listen, then, my daughter. When thou reachest thy husband's palace, and art admitted into his family, Honour thy betters ; ever be respectful To those above thee ; and, should others share

Thy husband's love, ne'er yield thyself a prey

jealousy; ealousy ; but even be a friend, A loving friend, to those who rival thee In his affections. Should thy wedded lord Treat thee with harshness, thou must never be Harsh in return, but patient and submissive.

Be to thy menials courteous, and to all Placed under thee, considerate and kind.

Be never self-indulgent, but avoid Excess in pleasure ; and when fortune smiles, Be not puffed up. Thus to thy husband's house Wilt thou a blessing prove, and not a curse. What thinks Gautami of this advice ?

GAETAMI.

An excellent compendium, truly, of every wife's duties ! Lay it well to heart, my daughter.'

These differences in manners, with their consequent difference in moral opinions, do not impair the effect of Oriental poetry for the mass of Western readers. It is a fundamental difference in mind. The Hindoo mythology, with its physical and moral absurdities and incongruities, whatever profound philosophy may lurk under them, is wearisome and lifeless; • nay, to the European it is very often silly or incomprehensible, though coming upon the Hindoo with all the power of religious truth. With much that is amiable and simple, the Hindoo mind verges upon the puerile—that is, ac- cording to English notions. What appears a graceful simplicity to natives, and possibly to European scholars saturated with Sans- krit learning and familiar with native manners, approaches the bathos to an English reader, especially if the charm of diction has evaporated in a translation. A great 'defect in Oriental poetry, to an English reader, is its elongation. The story, whether narrative or dramatic, wants closeness and strength ; the action is diluted to weakness; there is the expression rather than the sense of emotion or passion; and sometimes, as in the drama before us, opportunity to exhibit them seems avoided, and we are told what it were better we should be shown.

The plot of Sakoontala is in itself simple, but complicated by the treatment. The celebrated King Dushyanta, while pursuing the chace in a forest, arrives at a hermitage or retreat of holy men, at the head of whom is the equally celebrated sage and Brahmin Kanwa. With him in this retreat resides Sakoontalâ his adopted daughter. The King comes suddenly upon her while with her maidens she is tending her flowers, and is struck with her beauty. The maiden is equally smitten; • and the upshot is a private mar- riage, without ceremonies or the knowledge of the respective friends. The King, on returning to court, leaves his signet-ring with Sakoontala, promising to send for her in fewer days than the letters of his name. As ill-luck would have it, a holy man pre- sents himself before Sakoontala while she is preoccupied with the image of the King. Enraged at the neglect shown to him, Dur- vases curses the bride.

" Wo to thee, maiden, for daring to slight a guest like me!

Shall I stand here unwelcomed .; even I, A very mine of penitential merit, Worthy of all respect? Shalt thou, rash maid, Thus set at nought the ever sacred ties • Of hospitality ? And fix thy thoughts

Upon the cherished object of thy love, While I am present? Thus I curse thee, then—

He, even he of whom thou thinkest, he

Shall think no more of thee, nor in his heart

Retain thy image. Vainly shalt thou strive

To waken his remembrance of the past:

He shall disown thee, even as the sot, Roused from his midnight drunkenness, denies

The words he uttered in his revellings."

By solicitations Durvasas is so far mollified as to render the curse

conditional; the condition being the restoration of Dushyanta's ring, which Sakoontala loses. The real action of the piece, as Pro- fessor Monier Williams remarks, therefore begins with the fourth act. It consists in the recovery of the lost ring, which restores Dushyanta to the remembrance of all that passed between him and Sakoontali, which he had forgotten under the influence of the spell; and the final reunion of himself and Sakoontali, whom he had formerly dismissed from his presence as an artful woman try- ing to impose upon him. This reunion, however, is only accom- plished after a long time, much trouble, and events that carry the reader through the wildest and to European ideas improbable parts of Hindoo mythology. It will be seen that in strictness there are two pieces—one in three acts, one in four; or at least that the first three acts are introductory. It may be added, that to repre- sent the play would be very difficult even with the most elaborate modern machinery; and that some parts, from their descriptive undramatic character, could hardly be represented at all. To a rude people this is not altogether an objection. If a true dramatic character is present in the play, the imagination of the audience will supply " properties " and probability.

This dramatic character, we think, is absent from the Sa- koontald. It rather resembles what modern fashion has called "a dramatic poem,"—that is, a piece in which the essentials of the drama, action, passion, and discourse, are wanting, while de- scription, narrative, and reflection, are thrown into a dramatic form. In such a piece high poetry may exist, as is the case in Byron's Illai!fred, and there may be occasional scenes of a truly dramatic kind ; but the general character of the whole is that of natural images or feelings vividly presented without reference to dramatic spirit or likelihood. There is truth and reason in the following remarks on the labours of a king ; but they are rather general reflections than terse remarks struck out by the occasion.

"Enter the Chamberlain.

CHAMBERLAIN.

"Alas! to what an advanced period of life have I attained !

Even this wand betrays the lapse of years : In youthful days 'twas but a useless badge And symbol of my office; now it serves As a support to prop my tottering steps.

Ah me ! I feel very unwilling to announce to the King that a deputation of young hermits from the sage Kanwa has arrived, and craves an immediate audience. Certainly, his majesty ought not to neglect a matter of sacred duty, yet I hardly like to trouble him when he has just risen from the judg- ment-seat. Well, well ; a monarch's business is to sustain the world, and he must not expect much repose ; because—

Onward, for ever onward, in his car The unwearied Sun pursues his daily course, or tarries to unyoke his glittering steeds. And ever moving speeds the rushing 'Wind Through boundless space, filling the universe With his life-giving breezes. Day and night The King of Serpents on his thousand heads Upholds the incumbent earth ; and even so, Unceasing toil is aye the lot of kings, Who, in return, draw nurture from their subjects."

One of the mythological adventures of the story is the ascent of Dushyanta, at the command of the god Indra, to defend him from the attack of the giants. When the monarch is returning victorious in the chariot and with the charioteer of the god, he gives this balloon view of the earth.

"KING.

Ah ! Matali, we are descending towards the earth's atmosphere.

MATALI.

What makes you think so ?

KING.

The car itself instructs me : we are moving

O'er pregnant clouds, surcharged with rain; below us I see the moisture-loving Chatakas

In sportive flight dart through the spokes; the steeds Of Indra glisten with the lightning's flash ; And a thick mist bedews the circling wheels.

You are right ; in a little while the chariot will touch the ground, and you will be in your own dominions.

KING. [Looking down.

How wonderful is the appearance of the earth as we rapidly descend! Stupendous prospect ! yonder lofty hills Do suddenly uprear their towering heads Amid the plain, while from beneath their crests The ground receding sinks ; the trees, whose stems Seemed lately hid within their leafy tresses, Rise into elevation, and display

Their branching shoulders; yonder streams, whose waters,

Like silver threads, but now were scarcely seen, Grow into mighty rivers; lo! the earth Seems upward hurled by some gigantic power. AfArAr.r.

Well described ! "

Johnson says that men have been wise in very different modes, but have always laughed the same way. It is certain that in this drama the comic parts are the best and most dramatic. There is not, indeed, much of comedy, and what there is rests upon a single person, Mathavya, the friend and companion of the King, to whose heroic character the jester's love of ease and good living acts as a sort of foil. Here is one sample of him.

"Scene, a Room in the Palace.

The King Dushyanta and the Jester Mdthavya are discovered seated.

MATHAVYA. [Listening. Hark ! my dear friend, listen a minute, and you will hear sweet sounds proceeding from the music-room. Some one is singing a charming air. Who can it be ? Oh! I know. The Queen Haneapadika is practising her notes, that she may greet you with a new song.

KING.

Hush ! let me listen.

A Voice sings behind the scenes. 'How often hither did'st thou rove, Sweet bee, to kiss the mango's cheek : Oh! leave not, then, thy early love, The lily's honeyed lip to seek.'

KING.

A most impassioned strain, truly !

MATHAVIa.

Do you understand the meaning of the words ?

KING. [Smiling. She means to reprove me, because I once paid her great attention, and have lately deserted her for the Queen Vasumatf. Go, my dear fellow, and tell Hansapadika from me that I take her delicate reproof as it is intended.

)iisuisrze.

Very well. [Rising from his seat.] But stay—I don't much relish being sent to bear the brunt of her jealousy. The chances are that she will have me seized by the hair of the head and beaten to a jelly. I would as soon ex- pose myself, after a vow of celibacy, to the seductions of a lovely nymph, as encounter the fury of a jealous woman.

KING.

Go, go ! you can disarm her wrath by a civil speech : but give her my message. MATUAVYA.

What must be must be, I suppose. [Exit."

The reader will have seen from our quotations, the ease, spirit, and elegance which Professor Williams has infused into his trans- lation. In the book some weaker passages may be found ; but they are possibly a poetical refinement, designed to reflect the original more exactly. The piece is not all Sanskrit ; the lower persons as regards caste do not speak the sacred language, but a vernaonlar'dialeot of a less poetical character. The volume is not merely a literary curiosity : it is also a rare example of typographical art and decorative splendour,—what the French term an edition de luxe ; worthy, as the translator ex- presses it, "of the increasing reputation of Mr. Stephen Austin of Hertford, from whose press have issued some of the most perfect specimens of decorative Oriental printing that this country has ever produced." The binding is delicate in its emerald and gold, the printing and paper are sumptuous. Besides other richly orna- mental devices in gold and colours, each page is illuminated with a charming border, the same throughout in design, but diversi- fied by frequent change of colour. These are obtained from manu- scripts and other works in the East India House and the British Museum. The wood-cut vignettes representing incidents from the drama are vouched as careful in Oriental detail of costume and scenery, and, though not reaching high in strict art, they pleasantly add to the decorative character of the work.