passing mutilated corpses, skulls, broken armour, and other evidences of the fearful nature of the war. This reminded Krishna of the slaughter caused by Paraśu-rāma, who cleared the earth thrice seven times of the Kshatriya caste (see p. 331). His story was accordingly narrated to Yudhi-shthira (XII. 1707-1805). They then approached Bhishma lying on his couch of arrows (sara-samstara-sayinam), and Krishna entreated him to instruct Yudhi-shthira, and calm his spirit.

Upon that Bhishma, who had been lying for fifty-eight nights on his spiky bed (XIII. 7732), assisted by Krishna, Nārada, Vyāsa, and other Rishis, commenced a series of long and tedious didactic discourses (contained in the Santi-parvan and Anusāsana-parvan 1).

Then having finished instructing his relatives, he bade them farewell, and asked Krishna's leave to depart. Suddenly the arrows left his body, his skull divided, and his spirit, bright as a meteor, ascended through the top of his head to the skies (XIII. 7765). They covered him with garlands and perfumes, carried him to the Ganges and performed his last obsequies.

And here a European poet would have brought the story to an end. The Sanskrit poet has a deeper knowledge of human nature, or at least of Hindu nature.

In the most popular of Indian dramas (the Śakuntalā)

there occurs this sentiment 2:

'Tis a vain thought that to attain the end

And object of ambition is to rest.

Success doth only mitigate the fever

Of anxious expectation: soon the fear

Of losing what we have, the constant care

Of guarding it doth weary.

If then the great national Epic was to respond truly to the deeper emotions of the Hindu mind, it could not

1 In XII. 1241 we have some curious rules for expiation (prāyaścitta), and at 1393 rules for what to eat and what to avoid (bhakshyābhakshya). Some of the precepts are either taken from or founded on Manu. For instance, compare 6071 with Manu II. 238. Many of the moral verses in the Hitopadesa will be found in the Santi-parvan; and the fable of the three fishes is founded on the story at 4889. For the contents of the Āśvamedhika, Āśramavāsika, and Mausala Parvans, see P. 375.

2 See my translation of this play, 4th edition, p. 124 (recently published by W. H. Allen & Co., 13, Waterloo Place).

leave the Pandavas in the contented enjoyment of their kingdom. It had to instil a more sublime moral-a lesson which even the disciples of a divine philosophy are slow to learn-that all who desire rest must aim at union with the Infinite. Hence we are brought in the concluding chapters to a sublime description of the renunciation of their kingdom by the five brothers, and their journey towards Indra's heaven in the mountain Meru. Part of this (XVII. 24, &c.) I now translate:

When the four brothers knew the high resolve of king Yudhi-shthira,
Forthwith with Draupadi they issued forth, and after them a dog
Followed: the king himself went out the seventh from the royal city,
And all the citizens and women of the palace walked behind;
But none could find it in their heart to say unto the king, 'Return.'
And so at length the train of citizens went back, bidding adieu.
Then the high-minded sons of Pandu and the noble Draupadi
Roamed onwards, fasting, with their faces towards the east; their hearts
Yearning for union with the Infinite; bent on abandonment

Of worldly things. They wandered on to many countries, many a sea
And river. Yudhi-shthira walked in front, and next to him came Bhima,
And Arjuna came after him, and then, in order, the twin brothers.
And last of all came Draupadi, with her dark skin and lotus-eyes—
The faithful Draupadi, loveliest of women, best of noble wives-
Behind them walked the only living thing that shared their pilgrimage—
The dog-and by degrees they reached the briny sea. There Arjuna
Cast in the waves his bow and quivers'. Then with souls well-disciplined
They reached the northern region, and beheld with heaven-aspiring hearts
The mighty mountain Himavat. Beyond its lofty peak they passed
Towards a sea of sand, and saw at last the rocky Meru, king

Of mountains. As with eager steps they hastened on, their souls intent
On union with the Eternal, Draupadi lost hold of her high hope,
And faltering fell upon the earth.

One by one the others also drop, till only Bhima, Yudhi-shthira, and the dog are left. Still Yudhi-shṭhira walks steadily in front, calm and unmoved, looking neither to the right hand nor to the left, and gathering up his

1 Arjuna had two celebrated quivers, besides the bow named Gandiva, given to him by the god Agni. See Kirātārjuniya XI. 16.

soul in inflexible resolution. Bhima, shocked at the fall of his companions, and unable to understand how beings so apparently guileless should be struck down by fate, appeals to his brother, who, without looking back, explains that death is the consequence of sinful thoughts and too great attachment to worldly objects; and that Draupadi's fall was owing to her excessive affection for Arjuna; Sahadeva's (who is supposed to be the most humbleminded of the five brothers) to his pride in his own knowledge; Nakula's (who is very handsome) to feelings of personal vanity; and Arjuna's to a boastful confidence in his power to destroy his foes. Bhima then feels himself falling, and is told that he suffers death for his selfishness, pride, and too great love of enjoyment. The sole survivor is now Yudhi-shṭhira, who still walks steadily forward, followed only by the dog:

When with a sudden sound that rang through earth and heaven the mighty god Came towards him in a chariot, and he cried, 'Ascend, O resolute prince.' Then did the king look back upon his fallen brothers, and address'd These words unto the Thousand-eyed in anguish-'Let my brothers here Come with me. Without them, O god of gods, I would not wish to enter E'en heaven; and yonder tender princess Draupadi, the faithful wife, Worthy of endless bliss, let her too come. In mercy hear my prayer.'

Upon this, Indra informs him that the spirits of Draupadi and his brothers are already in heaven, and that he alone is permitted to ascend there in bodily form. Yudhishthira now stipulates that his dog shall be admitted with him. Indra says sternly, 'Heaven has no place for men accompanied by dogs (svavatām);' but Yudhi-shṭhira is unshaken in his resolution, and declines abandoning the faithful animal. Indra remonstrates- You have abandoned your brothers and Draupadi; why not forsake the dog?' To this Yudhi-shthira haughtily replies, ‘I had no power to bring them back to life: how can there be abandonment of those who no longer live?'

The dog, it appears, is his own father Dharma in disguise (XVII. 881). Reassuming now his proper form, he praises Yudhi-shṭhira for his constancy, and they enter heaven together. There, to his surprise, he finds Duryodhana and his cousins, but not his brothers or Draupadi. Hereupon he declines remaining in heaven without them. An angel is then sent to conduct him to the lower regions and across the Indian Styx (Vaitarani) to the hell where they are supposed to be. The scene which now follows may be compared to the Nekyomanteia in the eleventh book of the Odyssey, or to parts of Dante.

The particular hell to which Yudhi-shṭhira is taken is a dense wood, whose leaves are sharp swords, and its ground paved with razors (asi-patra-vana, see p. 66, note 2). The way to it is strewed with foul and mutilated corpses. Hideous shapes flit across the air and hover over him. Here there is an awful sensation of palpable darkness. There the wicked are burning in flames of blazing fire. Suddenly he hears the voices of his brothers and companions imploring him to assuage their torments, and not desert them. His resolution is taken. Deeply affected, he bids the angel leave him to share their miseries. This is his last trial. The whole scene now vanishes. It was a mere illusion, to test his constancy to the utmost. He is now directed to bathe in the heavenly Ganges; and having plunged into the sacred stream, he enters the real heaven, where at length, in company with Draupadi and his brothers, he finds that rest and happiness which were unattainable on earth.

1 So I infer from the original, which, however, is somewhat obscure. The expression is dharma-svarūpī bhagavān. At any rate, the dog was a mere phantom created to try Yudhi-shṭhira, as it is evident that a real dog is not admitted with Yudhi-shṭhira to heaven.

I

LECTURE XIV.

The Indian Epics compared with each other
and with the Homeric Poems.

PROCEED to note a few obvious points that force themselves on the attention in comparing the two great Indian Epics with each other, and with the Homeric poems. I have already stated that the episodes of the Mahā-bhārata occupy more than three-fourths of the whole poem'. It is, in fact, not one poem, but a combination of many poems: not a Kāvya, like the poem of Vālmīki, by one author, but an Itihāsa by many authors. This is one great distinctive feature in comparing it with the Rāmāyaṇa. In both Epics there is a leading story, about which are collected a multitude of other stories; but in the Maha-bhārata the main narrative only acts as a slender thread to connect together a vast mass of independent legends, and religious, moral, and political precepts ; while in the Rāmāyaṇa the episodes, though numerous, never break the solid chain of one principal and paramount subject, which is ever kept in view. Moreover, in the Rāmāyaṇa there are few didactic discourses and a remarkable paucity of sententious maxims.

1 Although the Mahā-bhārata is so much longer than the Rāmāyaṇa as to preclude the idea of its being, like that poem, the work of one or even a few authors, yet it is the number of the episodes which, after all, causes the disparity. Separated from these, the main story of the Maha-bhārata is not longer than the other Epic.