The dead have to be burned, and the living reconciled to their new
lords; while afterwards King Yudhishthira is installed in high state
with "chámaras, golden umbrellas, elephants, and singing." He is
enthroned facing towards the east, and touches rice, flowers, earth,
gold, silver, and jewels, in token of owning all the products of his
realm. Being thus firmly seated on his throne, with his cousins round
him, the Rajah prepares to celebrate the most magnificent of ancient
Hindu rites,--the _Aswamedha_, or Sacrifice of the Horse. It is
difficult to raise the thoughts of a modern and Western public to the
solemnity, majesty, and marvel of this antique Oriental rite, as
viewed by Hindus. The monarch who was powerful enough to perform it
chose a horse of pure white colour, "like the moon," with a saffron
tail, and a black right ear; or the animal might be all black, without
a speck of colour. This steed, wearing a gold plate on its forehead,
with the royal name inscribed, was turned loose, and during a whole
year the king's army was bound to follow its wanderings. Whithersoever
it went, the ruler of the invaded territory must either pay homage to
the king, and join him with his warriors, or accept battle; but
whether conquered or peacefully submitting, all these princes must
follow the horse, and at the end of the year assist at the sacrifice
of the consecrated animal. Moreover, during the whole year the king
must restrain all passion, live a perfectly purified life, and sleep
on the bare ground. The white horse could not be loosened until the
night of the full moon in _Chaitra_, which answers to the latter half
of March and the first half of April,--in fact, at Easter-time; and it
may be observed here that this is not the only strange coincidence in
the sacrifice. It was thus an adventure of romantic conquest, mingled
with deep religion and arrogant ostentation; and the entire
description of the _Aswamedha_ would prove most interesting. The horse
is found, is adorned with the golden plate, and turned loose,
wandering into distant regions; where the army of Arjuna--for it was
he who led Yudhishthira's forces--goes through twelve amazing
adventures. They come, for instance, to a land of Amazons, all of
wonderful beauty, wearing armour of pearls and gold, and equally fatal
either to love or to fight with. These dazzling enemies, however,
finally submit, as also the Rajah of the rich city of Babhruváhan,
which possessed high walls of solid silver, and was lighted with
precious jewels for lamps. The serpent people, in the same way, who
live beneath the earth in the city of Vasuki, yield, after combat, to
Arjuna. A thousand million semi-human snakemen dwelt there, with wives
of consummate loveliness, possessing in their realm gems which would
restore dead people to life, as well as a fountain of perpetual youth.
Finally, Arjuna's host marches back in great glory, and with a vast
train of vanquished monarchs, to the city of Hastinapura, where all
the subject kings have audience of Yudhishthira, and the immense
preparations begin for the sacrifice of the snow-white horse.
After all these stately celebrations, it might be expected that the
great poem would conclude with the established glories of the ancient
dynasty. But if the martial part of the colossal epic is "Kshatriyan,"
and the religious episodes "Brahmanic," the conclusion breathes the
spirit of Buddhism. Yudhishthira sits grandly on the throne; but
earthly greatness does not content the soul of man, nor can riches
render weary hearts happy. A wonderful scene, which reads like a
rebuke from the dead addressed to the living upon the madness of all
war, occurs in this part of the poem. The Pandavas and the old King
Dhritarashtra being together by the banks of the Ganges, the great
saint Vyása undertakes to bring back to them all the departed, slain
in their fratricidal conflict. The spectacle is at once terrible and
tender.
But this revealing of the invisible world deepens the discontent of
the princes, and when the sage Vyása tells them that their prosperity
is near its end, they determine to leave their kingdom to younger
princes, and to set out with their faces towards Mount Meru, where is
Indra's heaven. If, haply, they may reach it, there will be an end of
this world's joys and sorrows, and "union with the Infinite" will be
obtained. My translations from the Sanskrit of the two concluding
parvas of the poem (of which the above is a swift summary) describe
the "Last Journey" of the princes and their "Entry into Heaven;" and
herein occurs one of the noblest religious apologues not only of this
great Epic but of any creed,--a beautiful fable of faithful love
which may be contrasted, to the advantage of the Hindu teaching, with
any Scriptural representations of Death, and of Love, "which stronger
is than Death." There is always something selfish in the anxiety of
Orthodox people to save their own souls, and our best religious
language is not free from that taint of pious egotism. The Parvas of
the Mahábhárata which contain Yudhishthira's approach to Indra's
paradise teach, on the contrary, that deeper and better lesson nobly
enjoined by an American poet--
"The gate of heaven opens to none alone,
Save thou one soul, and it shall save thine own."
These prefatory remarks seemed necessary to introduce the subjoined
close paraphrase of the "Book of the Great Journey,"--and the "Book of
the Entry into Heaven;" being the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Parvas of
the noble but, as yet, almost unknown Mahábhárata.
THE MAHAPRASTHÁNIKA PARVA OF THE MAHÁBHÁRATA.
"THE GREAT JOURNEY."
_To Narayen, Lord of lords, be glory given,
To sweet Saraswati, the Queen in Heaven,
To great Vyása, eke, pay reverence due,
So shall this story its high course pursue._
Then Janmejaya prayed: "Thou Singer, say,
What wrought the princes of the Pandavas
On tidings of the battle so ensued,
And Krishna, gone on high?"
Answered the Sage:
"On tidings of the wreck of Vrishni's race,
King Yudhishthira of the Pandavas
Was minded to be done with earthly things,
And to Arjuna spake: 'O noble Prince,
Time endeth all; we linger, noose on neck,
Till the last day tightens the line, and kills.
Let us go forth to die, being yet alive,'
And Kunti's son, the great Arjuna, said:
'Let us go forth to die!--Time slayeth all;
We will find Death, who seeketh other men.'
And Bhimasena, hearing, answered: 'Yea!
We will find Death!' and Sahadev cried: 'Yea!'
And his twin brother Nakula: whereat
The princes set their faces for the Mount.
"But Yudhishthira--ere he left his realm,
To seek high ending--summoned Yuyutsu,
Surnamed of fights, and set him over all,
Regent, to rule in Parikshita's name
Nearest the throne; and Parikshita king
He crowned, and unto old Subhadra said:
'This, thy son's son, shall wear the Kuru crown,
And Yadu's offspring, Vajra, shall be first
In Yadu's house. Bring up the little prince
Here in our Hastinapur, but Vajra keep
At Indraprasth; and let it be thy last
Of virtuous works to guard the lads, and guide.'
"So ordering ere he went, the righteous king
Made offering of white water, heedfully,
To Vasudev, to Rama, and the rest,--
All funeral rites performing; next he spread
A funeral feast, whereat there sate as guests
Narada, Dwaipayana, Bharadwaj,
And Markandeya, rich in saintly years,
And Tajnavalkya, Hari, and the priests.
Those holy ones he fed with dainty meats
In kingliest wise, naming the name of Him
Who bears the bow: and--that it should be well
For him and his--gave to the Brahmanas
Jewels of gold and silver, lakhs on lakhs.
Fair broidered cloths, gardens and villages,
Chariots and steeds and slaves.
"Which being done,--
O Best of Bhârat's line!--he bowed him low
Before his Guru's feet,--at Kripa's feet,
That sage all honoured,--saying, 'Take my prince;
Teach Parikshita as thou taughtest me;
For hearken, ministers and men of war!
Fixed is my mind to quit all earthly state.'
Full sore of heart were they, and sore the folk
To hear such speech, and bitter spread the word
Through town and country, that the king would go;
And all the people cried, 'Stay with us, Lord!'
But Yudhishthira knew the time was come,
Knew that life passes and that virtue lasts,
And put aside their love.
"So--with farewells
Tenderly took of lieges and of lords--
Girt he for travel, with his princely kin,
Great Yudhishthira, Dharma's royal son.
Crest-gem and belt and ornaments he stripped
From off his body, and, for broidered robe
A rough dress donned, woven of jungle-bark;
And what he did--O Lord of men!--so did
Arjuna, Bhíma, and the twin-born pair,
Nakula with Sahadev, and she--in grace
The peerless--Draupadí. Lastly these six,
Thou son of Bhârata! in solemn form
Made the high sacrifice of Naishtiki,
Quenching their flames in water at the close;
And so set forth, 'midst wailing of all folk
And tears of women, weeping most to see
The Princess Draupadí--that lovely prize
Of the great gaming, Draupadí the Bright--
Journeying afoot; but she and all the Five
Rejoiced, because their way lay heavenwards.
"Seven were they, setting forth,--princess and king,
The king's four brothers, and a faithful dog.
Those left Hastinapur; but many a man,
And all the palace household, followed them
The first sad stage; and, ofttimes prayed to part,
Put parting off for love and pity, still
Sighing 'A little farther!'--till day waned;
Then one by one they turned, and Kripa said,
'Let all turn back, Yuyutsu! These must go.'
So came they homewards, but the Snake-King's child,
Ulùpi, leapt in Ganges, losing them;
And Chitranâgad with her people went
Mournful to Munipoor, whilst the three queens
Brought Parikshita in.
"Thus wended they,
Pandu's five sons and loveliest Draupadí,
Tasting no meat, and journeying due east;
On righteousness their high hearts bent, to heaven
Their souls assigned; and steadfast trode their feet,
By faith upborne, past nullah, ran, and wood,
River and jheel and plain. King Yudhishthir
Walked foremost, Bhíma followed, after him
Arjuna, and the twin-born brethren next,
Nakula with Sahadev; in whose still steps--
O Best of Bhârat's offspring!--Draupadí,
That gem of women, paced; with soft, dark face,--
Beautiful, wonderful!--and lustrous eyes,
Clear-lined like lotus-petals; last the dog,
Following the Pandavas.
"At length they reach
The far Lauchityan Sea, which foameth white
Under Udayachâla's ridge.--Know ye
That all this while Nakula had not ceased
Bearing the holy bow, named Gandiva,
And jewelled quiver, ever filled with shafts
Though one should shoot a thousand thousand times.
Here--broad across their path--the heroes see
Agni, the god. As though a mighty hill
Took form of front and breast and limb, he spake.
Seven streams of shining splendour rayed his brow,
While the dread voice said: 'I am Agni, chiefs!
O sons of Pandu, I am Agni! Hail!
O long-armed Yudhishthira, blameless king,--
O warlike Bhíma,--O Arjuna, wise,--
O brothers twin-born from a womb divine,--
Hear! I am Agni, who consumed the wood
By will of Narayan for Arjuna's sake.
Let this your brother give Gandiva back--
The matchless bow: the use for it is o'er.
That gem-ringed battle-discus which he whirled
Cometh again to Krishna in his hand
For avatars to be; and need is none
Henceforth of this most excellent bright bow,
Gandiva, which I brought for Partha's aid
From high Varuna. Let it be returned.
Cast it herein!'
"And all the princes said,
'Cast it, dear brother!' So Arjuna threw
Into that sea the quiver ever-filled,
And glittering bow. Then led by Agni's light,
Unto the south they turned, and so south-west,
And afterwards right west, until they saw
Dwaraka, washed and bounded by a main
Loud-thundering on its shores; and here--O Best!--
Vanished the God; while yet those heroes walked,
Now to the north-west bending, where long coasts
Shut in the sea of salt, now to the north,
Accomplishing all quarters, journeyed they;
The earth their altar of high sacrifice,
Which these most patient feet did pace around
Till Meru rose.
"At last it rose! These Six,
Their senses subjugate, their spirits pure,
Wending alone, came into sight--far off
In the eastern sky--of awful Himavan;
And, midway in the peaks of Himavan,
Meru, the Mountain of all mountains, rose,
Whose head is Heaven; and under Himavan
Glared a wide waste of sand, dreadful as death.
"Then, as they hastened o'er the deadly waste,
Aiming for Meru, having thoughts at soul
Infinite, eager,--lo! Draupadí reeled,
With faltering heart and feet; and Bhíma turned
Gazing upon her; and that hero spake
To Yudhishthira: 'Master, Brother, King
Why doth she fail? For never all her life
Wrought our sweet lady one thing wrong, I think.
Thou knowest, make us know, why hath she failed?'
"Then Yudhishthira answered: 'Yea, one thing.
She loved our brother better than all else,--
Better than heaven: that was her tender sin,
Fault of a faultless soul; she pays for that'
'So spake the monarch, turning not his eyes,
Though Draupadí lay dead--striding straight on
For Meru, heart-full of the things of heaven,
Perfect and firm. But yet a little space,
And Sahadev fell down, which Bhíma seeing,
Cried once again: 'O King, great Madri's son
Stumbles and sinks. Why hath he sunk?--so true,
So brave and steadfast, and so free from pride!'
"'He was not free,' with countenance still fixed,
Quoth Yudhishthira; 'he was true and fast
And wise, yet wisdom made him proud; he hid
One little hurt of soul, but now it kills.'
"So saying, he strode on--Kunti's strong son--
And Bhíma, and Arjuna followed him,
And Nakula, and the hound; leaving behind
Sahadev in the sands. But Nakula,
Weakened and grieved to see Sahadev fall--
His loved twin-brother--lagged and stayed; and next
Prone on his face he fell, that noble face
Which had no match for beauty in the land,--
Glorious and godlike Nakula! Then sighed
Bhíma anew: 'Brother and Lord! the man
Who never erred from virtue, never broke
Our fellowship, and never in the world
Was matched for goodly perfectness of form
Or gracious feature,--Nakula has fallen!'
"But Yudhishthira, holding fixed his eyes,--
That changeless, faithful, all-wise king,--replied:
'Yea, but he erred. The godlike form he wore
Beguiled him to believe none like to him,
And he alone desirable, and things
Unlovely to be slighted. Self-love slays
Our noble brother. Bhíma, follow! Each
Pays what his debt was.'
"Which Arjuna heard,
Weeping to see them fall; and that stout son
Of Pandu, that destroyer of his foes,
That prince, who drove through crimson waves of war,
In old days, with his chariot-steeds of milk,
He, the arch-hero, sank! Beholding this,--
The yielding of that soul unconquerable,
Fearless, divine, from Sákra's self derived,
Arjuna's,--Bhíma cried aloud: 'O king!
This man was surely perfect. Never once,
Not even in slumber when the lips are loosed,
Spake he one word that was not true as truth.
Ah, heart of gold, why art thou broke? O King!
Whence falleth he?'
"And Yudhishthira said,
Not pausing: 'Once he lied, a lordly lie!
He bragged--our brother--that a single day
Should see him utterly consume, alone,
All those his enemies,--which could not be.
Yet from a great heart sprang the unmeasured speech.
Howbeit, a finished hero should not shame
Himself in such wise, nor his enemy,
If he will faultless fight and blameless die:
This was Arjuna's sin. Follow thou me!'
"So the king still went on. But Bhíma next
Fainted, and stayed upon the way, and sank;
Yet, sinking cried, behind the steadfast prince:
'Ah, brother, see! I die! Look upon me,
Thy well-beloved! Wherefore falter I,
Who strove to stand?'
"And Yudhishthira said:
'More than was well the goodly things of earth
Pleased thee, my pleasant brother! Light the offence,
And large thy virtue; but the o'er-fed flesh
Plumed itself over spirit. Pritha's son,
For this thou failest, who so near didst gain.'
"Thenceforth alone the long-armed monarch strode,
Not looking back,--nay! not for Bhíma's sake,--
But walking with his face set for the Mount:
And the hound followed him,--only the hound.
"After the deathly sands, the Mount! and lo!
Sákra shone forth,--the God, filling the earth
And heavens with thunder of his chariot-wheels.
'Ascend,' he said, 'with me, Pritha's great son!'
But Yudhishthira answered, sore at heart
For those his kinsfolk, fallen on the way:
'O Thousand-eyed, O Lord of all the Gods,
Give that my brothers come with me, who fell!
Not without them is Swarga sweet to me.
She too, the dear and kind and queenly,--she
Whose perfect virtue Paradise must crown,--
Grant her to come with us! Dost thou grant this?'
"The God replied: 'In heaven thou shalt see
Thy kinsmen and the queen--these will attain--
With Krishna. Grieve no longer for thy dead,
Thou chief of men! their mortal covering stripped,
They have their places; but to thee the gods
Allot an unknown grace: thou shalt go up
Living and in thy form to the immortal homes.'
"But the king answered: 'O thou Wisest One,
Who know'st what was, and is, and is to be,
Still one more grace! This hound hath ate with me,
Followed me, loved me: must I leave him now?'
"'Monarch,' spake Indra, 'thou art now as We,--
Deathless, divine; thou art become a god;
Glory and power and gifts celestial,
And all the joys of heaven are thine for aye:
What hath a beast with these? Leave here thy hound.'
"Yet Yudhishthira answered: 'O Most High,
O Thousand-eyed and Wisest! can it be
That one exalted should seem pitiless?
Nay, let me lose such glory: for its sake
I would not leave one living thing I loved.'
"Then sternly Indra spake: 'He is unclean,
And into Swarga such shall enter not.
The Krodhavasha's hand destroys the fruits
Of sacrifice, if dogs defile the fire.
Bethink thee, Dharmaraj, quit now this beast!
That which is seemly is not hard of heart.'
"Still he replied: ''Tis written that to spurn
A suppliant equals in offence to slay
A twice-born; wherefore, not for Swarga's bliss
Quit I, Mahendra, this poor clinging dog,--
So without any hope or friend save me,
So wistful, fawning for my faithfulness,
So agonized to die, unless I help
Who among men was called steadfast and just.'
"Quoth Indra: 'Nay! the altar-flame is foul
Where a dog passeth; angry angels sweep
The ascending smoke aside, and all the fruits
Of offering, and the merit of the prayer
Of him whom a hound toucheth. Leave it here!
He that will enter heaven must enter pure.
Why didst thou quit thy brethren on the way,
Quit Krishna, quit the dear-loved Draupadí,
Attaining, firm and glorious, to this Mount
Through perfect deeds, to linger for a brute?
Hath Yudhishthira vanquished self, to melt
With one poor passion at the door of bliss?
Stay'st thou for this, who didst not stay for them,--
Draupadí, Bhíma?'
"But the king yet spake:
''Tis known that none can hurt or help the dead.
They, the delightful ones, who sank and died,
Following my footsteps, could not live again
Though I had turned,--therefore I did not turn;
But could help profit, I had turned to help.
There be four sins, O Sákra, grievous sins:
The first is making suppliants despair,
The second is to slay a nursing wife,
The third is spoiling Brahmans' goods by force,
The fourth is injuring an ancient friend.
These four I deem not direr than the sin,
If one, in coming forth from woe to weal,
Abandon any meanest comrade then.'
"Straight as he spake, brightly great Indra smiled;
Vanished the hound;--and in its stead stood there
The Lord of Death and Justice, Dharma's self!
Sweet were the words which fell from those dread lips,
Precious the lovely praise: 'O thou true king,
Thou that dost bring to harvest the good seed
Of Pandu's righteousness; thou that hast ruth
As he before, on all which lives!--O Son,
I tried thee in the Dwaita wood, what time
The Yaksha smote them, bringing water; then
Thou prayedst for Nakula's life--tender and just--
Not Bhíma's nor Arjuna's, true to both,
To Madrî as to Kuntî, to both queens.
Hear thou my word! Because thou didst not mount
This car divine, lest the poor hound be shent
Who looked to thee, lo! there is none in heaven
Shall sit above thee, King!--Bhârata's son,
Enter thou now to the eternal joys,
Living and in thy form. Justice and Love
Welcome thee, Monarch! thou shalt throne with us!'
"Thereat those mightiest Gods, in glorious train,
Mahendra, Dharma,--with bright retinue
Of Maruts, Saints, Aswin-Kumãras, Nats,
Spirits and Angels,--bore the king aloft,
The thundering chariot first, and after it
Those airy-moving Presences. Serene,
Clad in great glory, potent, wonderful,
They glide at will,--at will they know and see,
At wish their wills are wrought; for these are pure,
Passionless, hallowed, perfect, free of earth,
In such celestial midst the Pandu king
Soared upward; and a sweet light filled the sky
And fell on earth, cast by his face and form,
Transfigured as he rose; and there was heard
The voice of Narad,--it is he who sings,
Sitting in heaven, the deeds that good men do
In all the quarters,--Narad, chief of bards,
Narad the wise, who laudeth purity,--
So cried he: 'Thou art risen, unmatched king,
Whose greatness is above all royal saints.
Hail, son of Pandu! like to thee is none
Now or before among the sons of men,
Whose fame hath filled the three wide worlds, who com'st
Bearing thy mortal body, which doth shine
With radiance as a god's.'
"The glad king heard
Narad's loud praise; he saw the immortal gods,--
Dharma, Mahendra; and dead chiefs and saints,
Known upon earth, in blessed heaven he saw;
But only those. 'I do desire,' he said,
'That region, be it of the Blest as this,
Or of the Sorrowful some otherwhere,
Where my dear brothers are, and Draupadí.
I cannot stay elsewhere! I see them not!'
"Then answer made Purandará, the God:
'O thou compassionate and noblest One,
Rest in the pleasures which thy deeds have gained.
How, being as are the Gods, canst thou live bound
By mortal chains? Thou art become of Us,
Who live above hatred and love, in bliss
Pinnacled, safe, supreme. Sun of thy race.
Thy brothers cannot reach where thou hast climbed:
Most glorious lord of men, let not thy peace
Be touched by stir of earth! Look! this is Heaven.
See where the saints sit, and the happy souls,
Siddhas and angels, and the gods who live
For ever and for ever.'
"'King of gods,'
Spake Yudhishthira, 'but I will not live
A little space without those souls I loved.
O Slayer of the demons! let me go
Where Bhíma and my brothers are, and she,
My Draupadí, the princess with the face
Softer and darker than the Vrihat-leaf,
And soul as sweet as are its odours. Lo!
Where they have gone, there will I surely go,'"
_THE ILIAD OF INDIA._
THE SWARGAROHANA PARVA OF THE MAHÁBHARATA; OR, "THE ENTRY INTO
HEAVEN."
_To Narayen, Lord of lords, be glory given,
To Queen Saraswati be praise in heaven;
Unto Vyâsa pay the reverence due,--
So may this story its high course pursue._
Then Janmejaya said: "I am fain to learn
How it befell with my great forefathers,
The Pandu chiefs and Dhritarashtra's sons,
Being to heaven ascended. If thou know'st,--
And thou know'st all, whom wise Vyâsa taught--
Tell me, how fared it with those mighty souls?"
Answered the Sage: "Hear of thy forefathers--
Great Yudhishthira and the Pandu lords--
How it befell. When thus the blameless king
Was entered into heaven, there he beheld
Duryodhana, his foe, throned as a god
Amid the gods; splendidly sate that prince,
Peaceful and proud, the radiance of his brows
Far-shining like the sun's; and round him thronged
Spirits of light, with Sádhyas,--companies
Goodly to see. But when the king beheld
Duryodhana in bliss, and not his own,--
Not Draupadí, nor Bhíma, nor the rest,--
With quick-averted face and angry eyes
The monarch spake: 'Keep heaven for such as these
If these come here! I do not wish to dwell
Where he is, whom I hated rightfully,
Being a covetous and witless prince,
Whose deed it was that in wild fields of war
Brothers and friends by mutual slaughter fell,
While our swords smote, sharpened so wrathfully
By all those wrongs borne wandering in the woods:
But Draupadí's the deepest wrong, for he--
He who sits there--haled her before the court,
Seizing that sweet and virtuous lady--he!--
With grievous hand wound in her tresses. Gods,
I cannot look upon him! Sith 'tis so,
Where are my brothers? Thither will I go!'