The St. Charles herald. [volume] (Hahnville, La.) 1873-1993, 1917-03-10
The Masterpiece Of Shakespeare's Great Indi
Copyright By J. w. Muller
BY J. IN. MULE r

NepC anu IdSIeu. he COLuuduucu tAns
there should be no spring festival that
year, he intermitted his daily audi
ence, and he could not bring himself to
sit in judgment. He could but wan
der, an unquiet ghost, wasted.
wretched, sunk in hopeless sorrow and
shame.
When he had suffered so for many a
long month, he stood one day on his
cloud balcony which Overhung his pal
ace at such a height that even the
royal peacocks dared not fly to it. "The
royal line that flowed" he complained
aloud, "a river pure and grand, dies
in the childless king like streams In
| desert sand!"
A chariot swept from the sky. 1t
was guided by Natal, the charioteer OK
Indra, heavens king. ENTER" said
NATAL.
The chariot bore Dushyanta to q
mountain from whose TANKS, that sank
into the eastern and western seas.
there dripped gold as from a cloud at
sunset. 1t was Golden Peak, the home
Of the fairy Centaurs. There dwelled
man so holy that for years he had
stood, postlike and desolate, in an ant
hill that had grown around him, while
vines tough and sere choked him as he
stood sun-staring with dim eyes that
knew no rest.
In this holy sanctuary the king found
two hermit-women who watched a boy
that played with lion cubs and dragged
them from their mother as if they were
kittens and she harmless cat. 1T
makes me thrill to see him - thought
Dushyanta. "Why should my heart 60
out to this child of stranger? Ali
What measureless content must fill the
man who calls this boy his own!''
AS the boy struggled with cub. an
amulet slipped from his wrist. The
king stopped, and the hermit-women
screamed wildly at him not to touch 1t.
But he had it in his hand. "He has
touched it," they said, and looked at
him in establishment.
"a holy man gave it to the child"
said they, wondering. 1T was decreed
that II anyone touch it, instantly it
would turn into serpent and sting
him to death. Many times have we
seen this, oh stranger! There be only
three may touch 1t in safety-the boy.
his mother, Shakuntala, or his father,
Dushyanta."
They ran to call Shakuntala. Half
fearing, half-hopeful, she advanced,
wearing her hair in one long braid in
token of being forsaken. Her worn
face looked at the kings countenance
that was drawn with long grief.
He fell at her feet and cried: "Black
madness flies! The loving star draws
to the moonT'
NMitali stopped. "Was not this mat
ter known to Indra 2" asked King Dush.
yanta humbly.
"What is hidden from the GodsY'
said Natal, smiling.
So little is knoWn of Kalidasa
that it is not euen established
whether he lived in the Fifth or the
Sirth century of our era. But
though the Hindus haze been curl
oAsIy indifferent to such matters as
historical incidents and dates, they
haze Arrays cared reuerently for the
works Of their great writers. There
fore. Kalidasa's dramas haze cAns
doDn through the ages in authorita-
tive purity. and there is no doubt
as to their authorship. Of "Sha-
kuntald" Goethe said. "Would you
know in one word the bloom of tho
early year, the fruit of the late one.
would you know all that tempts and
charms, all that nourishes and salts
fes, name 'Shakuntala' and all 10
said"