ied. It is true that the Indian theatre permits no
tragedy, and we may well believe that no successor of Kalidasa could
hope to present a tragedy on the stage. But might not Kalidasa, far
overtopping his predecessors, have put on the stage a drama the story
of which was already familiar to his audience as a tragic story?
Perhaps not. If not, one can but wish that he had chosen another
subject.

This violent twisting of an essentially tragic story has had a further
ill consequence in weakening the individual characters. Pururavas is a
mere conventional hero, in no way different from fifty others, in
spite of his divine lineage and his successful wooing of a goddess.
Urvashi is too much of a nymph to be a woman, and too much of a woman
to be a nymph. The other characters are mere types.

Yet, in spite of these obvious objections, Hindu critical opinion has
always rated the _Urvashi_ very high, and I have long hesitated to
make adverse comments upon it, for it is surely true that every nation
is the best judge of its own literature. And indeed, if one could but
forget plot and characters, he would find in _Urvashi_ much to attract
and charm. There is no lack of humour in the clever maid who worms the
clown's secret out of him. There is no lack of a certain shrewdness in
the clown, as when he observes:

"Who wants heaven? It is nothing to eat or drink. It is just a place
where they never shut their eyes--like fishes!"

Again, the play offers an opportunity for charming scenic display. The
terrified nymphs gathered on the mountain, the palace balcony bathed
in moonlight, the forest through which the king wanders in search of
his lost darling, the concluding solemn consecration of the crown
prince by heavenly beings--these scenes show that Kalidasa was no
closet dramatist. And finally, there is here and there such poetry as
only Kalidasa could write. The fourth act particularly, undramatic as
it is, is full of a delicate beauty that defies transcription. It was
a new and daring thought--to present on the stage a long lyrical
monologue addressed to the creatures of the forest and inspired by
despairing passion. Nor must it be forgotten that this play, like all
Indian plays, is an opera. The music and the dancing are lost. We
judge it perforce unfairly, for we judge it by the text alone. If, in
spite of all, the _Urvashi_ is a failure, it is a failure possible
only to a serene and mighty poet.

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