The Iliad of the East : a selection of legends drawn from Valmiki's Sanscrit poem, The Ramayana

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1278 Valmiki.— The Iliad of the Easb : a selection of Legends drawn from Valmiki’s Sanscrit poem, the Ramayana, by Erederika Macdonald, with Illustrations by J. Lockwood Kipling, C.I.E., cr. 8 vo, cloth , as new , 3s 1908

BY THE SAME AUTHOR

Contents

CHAP. PAGE

Introduction vii

I. How ValmIki received the Gift of Poesy i

Chapter I How Valmiki Received The Gift Of Poesy

Eighteen hundred years before the Christian era* a devout and learned Brahman, named Valmlki, withdrew from the habitations of men, and took up his abode in the wild and solitary forest. No contempt nor aversion for his fellows led him to abandon their society. Nor did he, after the manner of those times, hope by macerations and self-inflicted penances to obtain some special boon from Brahma, some dignity in this world, or some assurance of happiness in the future state. What he sought was an unobscured vision, an unbiassed conscience, an impartial judgment.

Standing near to, and on a level with it, a man does not perceive the true features of a country : that which is near obscures what is distant, or gives an erroneous impression of its importance; but if he climb a mountain, and look down on the whole scene, all things retain their just and relative proportions.

Thus did Valmlki, from a distance, survey all life,

* Vide Note i.

i

A that, having learnt to know living creatures better, he might be able to serve them more.

The forest where he dwelt was like a marvellous temple reared by the hand of nature. The trunks of the lofty tamarind and mango trees were as the columns which upheld the roof of foliage, where birds of a thousand dazzling hues flashed to and fro, like gems that had taken to themselves wings : the ground was richly strewn with flowering shrubs, that entwined their gorgeous blossoms, and wrought them into fantastic patterns : the air was heavy, as with perfumed incense ; and in the shady nooks and glens myriads of guilty creatures found sanctuary.

For many years the Brahman lived in these lonely wilds, dividing his time between contemplation and the observance of those sacred rites which are reverent words of greeting spoken to the universal Father, who is at once the source of life and its sustainer.

The simple inhabitants of the wood soon abandoned their terror of the harmless anchorite ; he in whose heart dwelt the love of universal nature, whose sole nourishment consisted of roots and berries, and to whom the passion of anger was unknown, became for them a guru and a friend, to whom they had recourse whenever they needed counsel or sympathy. Even the timid gazelles, who came in flocks, in the cool of even, to the borders of the stream to quench their thirst, and offer to Brahma their thanksgiving for the gift of lustrous waters, at his approach, would merely raise to his

THE GIFT OF POESY 3

face their large, grave eyes, pleading : “ We are at our prayers : forgive us if, just now, we do not wish you good-evening, dear Valmiki.”

Often, when the cool night had hushed the feverish pulses of the day, would the thoughtful hermit pace the narrow pathways of the wood, pondering on disunion, and cruelty, and sin, and on the best method of banishing them for ever from a world whose natural beauty they deface. Then the glowworm would extenuate itself, to shed forth a brilliant light, “ Lest,” he whispered, the “ kindly guru tread unawares on some serpent or poisonous plant.”

The tigers and other beasts of prey would creep stealthily out of sight.

“ Valmiki would chide us,” they said, “ if he knew that we were about to destroy life. But what are we to do ? We do not find roots and berries agree with us.”

At the sound of his footsteps the flower would open her corolla, and ask, half sleepily, half tenderly :

“Are you ill, Valmiki, that you are so restless ? There is a healing virtue in my root ; pluck me, if you will, O saintly anchorite.”

But the hermit answered :

“ I am not ill, dear little sister ! It is the thought of the evil that is in the world, which keeps me wakeful.’'

At length, one evening when the pensive anchorite sat at the entrance of his hut, reflecting as usual on the method of rendering man noble and generous and pure, Narada, the messenger of the gods, appeared to him. When he saw the knit brows and the earnest gaze of the hermit, he smiled, and said to him :

“ By the contemplation of the glorious Immortals, on whose raiment is no speck of dust, and whose heads are crowned with garlands of undying flowers; by the recital of the deeds wrought by their invincible might ; by the history of their bounteous gifts and heroic lives, the soul of man must be elevated. Is not this so, Valmlki ?”

“ Nay," answered the hermit, sadly ; “ I once thought this ; but I was in error. Man is not immortal — he is not strong, nor rich, nor joyous ; his garments — ay, and his soul too — need to be cleansed often from defilement. How then shall he be incited to great actions by the achievements of the gods ? Gazing on the sun, does he learn how to shine ; or on the ocean, to engulph great rocks ? He says of such deeds : truly, they are great ; but they were not wrought by men”

“ How then shall he be ennobled ? ” asked Narada.

The Brahman was silent for a while, reflecting deeply ; then he answered :

“Were it possibleto holdup in his sight oneclothed like himself in mortal flesh ; poor and weak, and tried by suffering even as he is, who has yet done generously and well ; who has upheld truth and justice, endured sorrow without bitterness, controlled his passions, and dealt kindly by all living creatures : then truly had he a pattern whereby to shape his life — an example to stir his emulation, and fire him with the thought : ‘ Shall not I attain to this heroism? Am not I also a man ? ' ”

THE GIFT OF POESY

“Ay,” answered the god, “you say truly. But can there a man be found whose life displays, indeed, this unblemished virtue ? In all the three worlds, is there such an one ?”

“I, who honour mankind, would fain think so,” answered the hermit meekly. “ It is true that it has not been vouchsafed me to meet with one thus perfect in mind and deed : but humanity is great, and counts many heroes.”

At that, the messenger of the gods smiled his approval.

“ You do well,” he answered, “ to believe in man ; that is a faith conducive to high and generous deeds. Yes : there exists, indeed, a hero who has clearly shown that the human load of suffering and weakness is powerless to impede the upward growth of him who raises his soul above dishonour ; and whose glowing deeds must kindle men's self-respect, and show them, as in a mirror, the noble stature to which it befits them to attain.

“ Rama, the son of Dasaratha, is the name of this illustrious hero. By respect for his father’s promise unwittingly given to Kaikeyl, his treacherous stepmother, this young prince, the heir to the throne abandoned the court, and the fair town of Ayodhya, and wandered forth into exile. In the solitary forest, with Lakshmana, his brother, and his wife, the lovely young Slta, he led a contented existence, banishing all resentment from the minds of his companions, as well as from his own. The innocent guests of the wood he avoided injuring or alarming ; but when the blameless anchorites implored protection against the evil Rakshasas, the enemies of gods and of men, he armed himself in their defence. During this war Ravana, the king of the Rakshasas, having artfully disguised himself as a hermit, entered the dwelling of Rama and carried off the beautiful Sita, in spite of her supplications for mercy. Indignant at this outrage, the birds and beasts of the forest, one and all, promised to succour this Rama, who had ever shown a tender regard for their safety. Even his terrible grief for the loss of his beloved Sita did not render the hero indifferent to the wrongs of others. In his pursuit of Ravana, having encountered the mournful ape, Sugrlva, whom the unjust suspicions of Bali pursued from place to place, he espoused the cause of the innocent monkey ; and when the unnatural Bali was about to murder his younger brother, he slew this unjust monarch of apes, and gave the empire into the hands of Sugrlva. Thus he won the devoted attachment of these agile lords of the forest. Hanuman, the prime minister of Sugrlva, the daring son of the wind, having traversed at one bound the seething and turbulent ocean, discovered Sita, confined in the Island of Lanka. Thus was Rama recompensed for not having disdained the affection of inferior creatures. Having marched with Lakshmana, and Sugrlva, and the whole army of apes, the magnanimous Dasarathide slew the Rakshasa in battle ; and gave to his vanquished enemy the obsequies befitting a king. Then, the fourteen years of exile to which the promise had bound him having expired, he returned, with his joyous Sita, to

THE GIFT OF POESY 7

the happy town of Ayodhya. There sharing the empire with Bharata, the son of Kaikeyi, who had nobly reigned in his absence, the illustrious Rama seeks to ensure the happiness of his people by a wise and merciful government. An obedient son, a loyal brother, a chaste spouse, a faithful ally, a fearless yet a merciful enemy, disdainful of none, but filled with kindly consideration for all living creatures, tell me, O saintly anchorite, does not this kingly Rama wear a crown of transplendent virtues ? ”

Then Valmlki, transported with gladness, exclaimed : “ This is the man I have sought, whose story shall bring to the hearer the knowledge of truth and of virtue/'

“ And now," continued Narada, “ can there a bard be found worthy to hymn the life of this hero — his patience, his chastity, his valour, and his tender respect of life ? In all the three worlds, is there such an one ? "

Then the head of the humble anchorite was bowed mournfully on his breast.

“ Alas ! " he answered, “ I know not such an one."

“Yet," returned Narada, “ he lives, this poet, who shall give to the noble deeds of Rama the wings of harmony, that they may brood over the souls of men ; keeping nobleness and generosity and purity ever in their sight. I charge you, Valmlki, by your love for man, that you rest not until you have discovered this inspired bard."

With that the divine envoy returned to his celestial home.

The hermit was sore troubled by his last words

“ How shall I discover this highly gifted poet in these solitary wilds ? ” he asked himself. “ Surely my disciple, Bharadvaja, is not he ? ”

And with that he turned an inquiring gaze on his disciple. Now Bharadvaja was an excellent young man, but of a simple and mild demeanour ; the fire of Poesy looked not forth from out his eyes.

More and more perplexed, haunted by the words — “ I charge you, by your love for man, that you rest not until you have discovered this inspired bard,” — Valmiki arose, and sought the little lake Tamasa, whose waves are limpid and transparent as is the soul of a Brahman.

“ To be clean and pure is to attain great wisdom,” said the hermit, thoughtfully ; “ in these fresh waters will I lave the body that has been put under my dominion ; and may the One Divine Spirit, in whose hand lies my soul, so cleanse it also that no earthly defilement may dim its perceptions.”

So saying, the saintly anchorite prepared himself reverently for those ablutions which to the Brahman’s mind have so holy a significance.

Whilst he yet lingered on the brink, he beheld, on the opposite shore of the lake, two herons of surpassingly beautiful plumage. It was the season when an ineffable tremor thrills all Nature, and when she responds with passion to love's whispered invitation.

There is, at this time, more beauty in the world : all living things are radiant with ardour ; the colours of the trees and flowers are of a richer dye ; the insects wrap themselves in fire, and all birds break forth into song.

THE GIFT OF POESY 9

li We thank Thee, O Supreme Author of life ! ” exclaimed these herons of marvellous plumage, “ for the gift of lustrous waters ; for the wings which give us empire over the realms of air ; but, above all, we thank Thee for the mysterious transports of love, which make us find all bliss, each in the other."

But even whilst these harmless birds expressed thus joyously their thanksgiving, the arrow of some pitiless hunter hissed through the startled air, and, piercing the poor breast of one of the winged lovers, destroyed the life that had just reached the supreme moment of delight. Then the dolorous shrieks of the bereaved heron, who beheld his innocent mate stretched there dabbled in blood, saddened the shores of the lake Tamasa ; saddened, too, the heart of the kindly hermit.

“ O cruel hunter ! " he cried ; “ mayst thou attain no glory in the eternal revolution of years, since thou hast not feared to strike this heron in the delirious moment of love/'

As the bubbling springs gush from the breast of Prithivl,* so leapt the words from his heart ; and as the sound of flowing waters mellows itself into harmony, so did his grief for the desolate bird sing itself into measure ; swaying his thoughts to and fro, with a musical, dreamy movement, as the breeze blows forward and back the boughs of the sad Casserina.

The rhythm of his lamentation rang in his ears whilst he bathed in the limpid waters ; and even * Prithivl— goddess of the soil.

IO THE ILIAD OF THE EAST

when he quitted the crystal lake, the enchanting measure still haunted him. Against his will he kept repeating it over and over, until, sorely puzzled and distressed, he fancied that some charm had bewitched him. Perceiving that his disciple was regarding him with astonished eyes :

“Tell me, my son,” he asked, very humbly, “is there not a strange melody in the words you hear me repeating over to myself ? ”

“ I cannot say,” answered his disciple. For Bharadvaja, though an excellent young man, had not received the gift of poesy.

That day Brahma himself, the magnanimous ancestor of worlds, came to visit the meek anchorite. Having reverently bowed himself to the earth, Valmiki, his hands clasped above his head, as is befitting in the presence of one worthy of honour, begged the most illustrious of gods to inform him of his pleasure.

Then Brahma said : “ The fame of your great wisdom and sanctity has reached me, O hermit ! I would hear you speak of virtue and knowledge, and of the grave contemplations that have absorbed your mind during your habitation in this forest.”

Valmiki thought to tell his illustrious guest of the way to encourage man to become noble, and generous, and pure. But his rebellious tongue> instead of obeying his will, once more repeated the musical words in which he had deplored the death of the heron.

Abashed and covered with confusion, the humble anchorite trembled before the most ancient of gods.

THE GIFT OF POESY n

" He will think I mean to mock him ! ” he said to himself, mournfully.

But the eternal Brahma smiled, and said : u Happy art thou, Valmiki, who hast found favour in the sight of the ardent goddess of eloquence ! The divine quality of pity has drawn to thee the burning kiss of the capricious Saraswatl. Up, then, O man ! who hast tasted an immortal's love, speak forth the Divine breath which inspires thee ! Sing to the listening ages the wondrous history of Rama, whose ineffable beauty shall not fade till the stars grow dim in heaven." . . . Thus did Valmiki, in whose heart dwelt the love of universal nature, receive the divine gift of poesy, in exchange for tears of pity.

Chapter II

Once upon a time, in the country of the Angas, there was a sore dearth for want of rain. The sufferings of the earth-mother were shared by all living creatures ; the gasping land was too feeble to bring forth fruit or herb : so the animals died, and the men grew wan from hunger. Lomapada, king of the Angas, having vainly implored the succour of Vishnu, the penetrating spirit, whose essence thrills all being, and in whose sight all life is precious, grew weary of the burthen of existence.

u Eternal Spirit ! ” he moaned, flinging himself on the earth, “ life is too grievous ; let me die.

" In Thy sight, the light of eternity masters the shadows of time, Thy love embraces the infinite ; and destiny, which is Thy will, works for the good of the universe. I know Thou art just. I would not reverse Thy decrees, Thou who alone art, and in whom all that is, exists. But I am the prisoner of time, and these days are altogether evil ; as far as my vision extends, is nothing, save pain and sorrow. Alas I my heart is that of a man ; it comprehends nought, save the grief of its fellows. And I am king of this people ; mutely their eyes hang on me,

* Recounted by the sage Sumantra, in the ears of Dasaratha, father of Rama.

as on the face of their father ! How can I bear this and live ? All their sufferings are felt by me"; the weight of their accumulated misery is bowing me down to the ground. O Brahm 1 * if there be no succour, call me back to Thy bosom ; and let me return to unconsciousness."

Having breathed forth this supplication, the monarch arose, and summoned to his presence his ministers and courtiers, and all the brahmans and holy men in his domain who devoted their lives to prayer.

u Can none of you," he asked, “ suggest how this curse may be removed from the land ? I am resolved to put an end to my life, if I cannot assuage my people's distress."

Then a holy brahman stepped forth from the council. His life had been pure and tranquil ; so that his soul reflected the Divine Will, as a still lake gives back the blue of heaven.

“ Listen, O king," he said. 11 In the deepest shades of the forest dwells a hermit, named Vibhandaka. Long ago he left this city, his heart full of bitterness and morose hatred for men, because amongst them he had found crime and folly. He despised pleasure too, and scorned beauty; for once he had been deceived by both. Taking with him his infant son, Rishyasringa, he chose a cave, in the wildest glen of the wood, to be this young child's nursery.

“'I give thee, my son/ he said, 1 the savage beasts of prey for comrades ; from them thou wilt learn less cruelty and wickedness than from thy * Vide Note 2.

fellows. Thou shalt hear the parrot shriek, the jackal howl, the lynx mewl, and the hyaena screech, but thou shalt be spared the discordant voice of man. Here, amid reptiles and venomous insects, thou shalt yet live in ignorance of what is most vile and loathsome in nature. Exposed to the caprices of heaven, a thousand dangers attending thy every footstep, thy life a series of hardships, afflictions, and perils, thou shalt know more peace and security than in the crowded city. Grow then ; and, if it be possible, lose the base nature Brahm has laid on thee ; and ignore that thou art that vile and miserable creature — a man/

“Thus has Rishyasringa grown from childhood to youth and heard no human voice, and looked on no human face save that of his father. Dreading the irascible hermit, the hunter who passes that way, or the pious anchorite who chances on the solitary cave, steals away with silent haste ; even the prowling beasts of the forest avoid it; for the immortals having promised to grant Vibhandaka what boon he would, as a recompense for his austere life, he craved the power to curse.

“ And now, Rishyasringa has become a man ; and in his heart all manner of generous and noble qualities are in danger of death, as are the fruits of this starving land. The gods have chosen this youth to be the achiever of noble deeds, and the father of a gallant race ; and it is thou, O King Lomapada ! who shall rescue him from the rule of this bitter ascetic ; who shall fling open the doors of his heart, that his brethren may make it their home ;

who shall teach him the noble ardour of love, by giving him thy daughter Kanta to wife. Thou shalt give this hero to the world; and in return the grateful clouds will pour their treasures of rain at thy feet, that thy thirsty land may revive.”

When he heard that, Lomapada sprang from his throne, and asked his ministers and courtiers :

“ Which of you will, forthwith, set out in search of this young hermit ? ”

At first there was a stir among them ; and each said to his neighbour :

“ This is an honourable mission ; it well befits one so illustrious as yourself.”

But none came forward and said, “ I will go.”

At length a kinsman of Lomapada, and the most valiant prince among the Angas, stepped forth and said :

“ Tell me, O saintly Brahman ! has this Vibhandaka indeed received from the immortals the power to curse ? ”

“ Yes,” answered the holy man ; “ the gods promised to grant him what he would : thus he obtained from them this terrible boon.”

Then all the company exchanged dismayed glances; there was no more talk of going to fetch Rishyasringa.

But Lomapada looked from one to another, eagerly.

“ None offers himself for this mission?” he exclaimed. “Alas! and my people dying around me ! ”

However, when a few days had elapsed, the sorrowful monarch once more summoned his ministers to his presence.

“ I have thought of a plan," he said, “ by which we may bring this young man hither, and yet avoid the curse of the terrible Vibhandaka. Do you still refuse me your aid ? "

Then the courtiers, reddening with shame, answered him :

“ Never did we refuse you our aid, O Lomapada ! We are your slaves, and at your word will risk our lives, or even incur the terrible curse of Vibhandaka."

Under their breath they murmured :

“ Is he once more going to ask us to undertake this perilous enterprise ? Why should the arrival of Rishyasringa remove this curse from our land ? "

" Hearken," said Lomapada : “ this youth has spent all his life in the woods ; he has seen only the blameless animals and birds, the reptiles and ferocious beasts, and his father, whom hatred for his kind has transformed into a savage. How shall it be, think you, when Rishyasringa beholds, for the first time, the lovely countenance of woman ? Though ignorant of the name of love, he cannot be a stranger to the fire of passion. Experience may not have shown him how to think, but nature has taught him how to feel. As through the dimness of night the ocean swells towards the moon, so is the blind heart of youth drawn by the beauty of woman it knows not, nor stays to ask, wherefore.

“ Fit me out, then, a spacious vessel ; plant it with trees and shrubs, with mosses and flowers and ferns, so that it may seem an enchanting island, and let the most lovely maidens in my kingdom embark on it, disguised in the dress of anchorites, that seeing them in this familiar garb Rishyasringa may have no misgivings. Then let the wind and the floating river drift these charming young messengers near to the solitary hermitage ; and in the absence of Vibhandaka, let them lure this youthful savage on board their delicious vessel. Or I greatly err, or my little maidens will soon return, bringing me the willing captive you dared not go to seek. See that my orders are obeyed without delay, that the clouds may once more pour down their generous rains to rejoice the hearts of all creatures."

When the ministers heard the project of Lomapada, they were delighted beyond measure ; and at once set about organising the expedition. Now that it had devolved on others to fetch the young hermit, they were quite convinced that it was of the highest importance that the Brahman's advice should be conscientiously obeyed.

So the young maidens embarked on the vessel that was like an enchanting island; and the wind and the floating river soon drifted them near to the solitary hermitage.

Now, latterly, Vibhandaka had avoided, as much as possible, the society of his son.^ Truth to tell, he knew he was a dangerous companion ; he was of such an irascible temper, and the habit of cursing had so grown upon him, that he frequently uttered the most withering invectives half inadvertently. To avoid any irretrievable mistake of this sort, he kept

B out of Rishyasringa's way. It was his custom to seize his hermit's staff, at early dawn, and sally forth into the woods ; and he would wander about until the fever of his malice was worn out, and his baneful energy exhausted.

Thus Rishyasringa was often left many days by himself ; that is to say, quite alone : his heart was no companion to him, for it was only peopled by vague desires.

One evening that there were many sighs in the young man's breast, and that his head was heavy, he knew not why, he strolled forth into the glen in search of sweet roots and berries. It was that marvellous hour which closes the tropical day, when light becomes an illusion, and ecstatic nature beholds the vision of her expired lord. The greyness of twilight is not there : mystery casts off the shade and clothes itself in radiance. The natural order is reversed : reality assumes vagueness, whilst the dream becomes irrefutably convincing.

At the same time there is nothing to inspire fear. This enchantment is altogether lovely : the weird, the grotesque, the fantastic even, have no part in it. Touched by this nebulous splendour, all colours are rarefied, not dimmed ; all forms rendered ethereal, not distorted nor effaced.

Under the stately peepul, and the sweetly perfumed mango, passed the dreamy Rishyasringa. Overhead he heard the hushed twittering of birds, as they nestled close to each other under their canopy of leaves. On either side of the narrow path Vibhandaka had torn out of the flowery wood, stretching into the heart of the silent forest, he saw the long grass and the feathery ferns, kissed here and there by this translucent light ; and springing up every now and again, the prickly cactus, with its blood-red flowers, and the jessamine with its wreaths of snow, and other blossoms of soft and brilliant hues, that seemed to be whispering somewhat to their glossy leaves ; — he had not dared to step on one side and wander amid this beauty ; he felt that it concealed a secret ; felt, too, that he was the only being here who did not understand nor share in it.

He was very sad.

Presently a shower of dates, that came rattling on him from a palm-tree above, roused him from his reverie ; looking up, he perceived perched on the topmost bough a squirrel, who, in confusion, had wrapped its face in its bushy tail ; but two bright black eyes gleamed through the fringing shade anxiously.

“ Oh dear,” it said, penitently, “ Tm so sorry ! the branch I sprang from shook itself, and so the fruit fell. I assure you it shook itself. Don’t curse me, noble son of Vibhandaka ! ”

“ Curse thee, thou foolish little squirrel ? ” said the young hermit, with a mournful smile ; “ I would rather bless thee, if the power were mine.”

A little further on he came upon a solitary gazelle. It stood in the shadow of a Casserina fir, the saddest of forest trees.

There were large tears in its eyes.

“ Alas ! ” it moaned, “ my harmless icompanion, who would not even crop the young flowers that craved for life — yet, because she bounded across his path, the cruel Hermit slew her with his malediction ! Ah me ! and I am left alone.”

Then Rishyasringa had essayed to comfort the mournful beast, saying :

“ I too am solitary ; let us weep together.”

But at sight of him it started and prepared for flight.