Reviews

ENGLISH

Four Plays in One Volume.–By Professor A. A. Jack. (Published by Maclehose and Co., London. Price Sh. 7/6 net.)

Professor Jack’s four plays are not all new ones. Three of them, ‘The Prince,’ ‘Mathilde,’ and ‘The Angry Heart,’ have already been published, but are now for the first time printed in one volume along with a new play which has the intriguing title of "What’s Concluded?"

They are all tragedies in blank verse, modeled strictly on the style of the Elizabethan dramatists. Dr. Jack himself modestly calls them exercises in poetic drama, because each is written with a view to solving certain difficulties in dramatic form and usage. Dr. Jack is a keen student of the drama, and in these four plays we can see his ideas gradually evolving and taking different shapes. His main idea is that even poetic drama, despite certain conventionalities, should unfold the purpose of its characters without too free a use of such tricks of the trade as asides or long soliloquies. These, though freely used by the older dramatists in order to put the audience wise, so to speak, are not part of real life. It might be very advantageous if they were, for many a misunderstanding could be cleared up, and many a bitterness avoided if we could but see into each others’ hearts and minds as an Elizabethan audience could spy upon the ultimate hopes and fears of their heroes and heroines. But life is not so easy as that. Hence Dr. Jack set himself a difficult task, when in writing all but the earliest of these plays, he tried, within the bounds of classic drama, to make his characters just as reticent and ambiguous as people so annoyingly are in real life.

You will notice that I except the first play from these observations. This play, called ‘The Prince,’ follows the old dramatic form, is full of asides and explanatory soliloquies, and hence is more easily read and understood. Though it does not rise to the intellectual heights of the other three, it is a delicate and artistic piece of work.

Its scene is laid in Italy in the 14th century, at the court of a certain King who has two sons. The elder is about to contract a ‘State’ alliance with a neighbouring princess. The younger son, Prince Francesco, is conducting his own love affair with a beautiful young girl of lowly origin. Francesco contrives a secret marriage with the girl Aurea. But the very moment after the wedding, he is summoned by a messenger to his father’s court. His brother has had a hunting accident and has died, a few minutes before Francesco and Aurea were united by the priest. Hence by the law of the land, Francesco being at that moment the heir to the throne, his marriage to Aurea is null and void.

There is no need to go into the rest of the story. The materials for tragedy are already here. Despite the sadness of its heroine’s fate it does not leave on the mind of the reader too great an effect of gloom. Rather the main impressions left are those of the magic freshness of an Italian Spring, the quivering of leaf and flower in the sunshine and breeze, of the green depths of forests where bandits may lurk to seize on wandering maids, and chivalrous knights come galloping to their rescue. There is a poetry and a lightness about the verse that linger in the mind when the ins and outs of the story are forgotten. It is a play that can be enjoyed both for its dramatic interest and for the beauty of its expression.

The other three plays are intensely dramatic. No romantic dallying in greenwoods here, nor light-hearted songs, as in ‘The Prince’: only the impact of character upon character, the subtlety and intrigue of court life. But so careful is the author to work out his theories of making the chief character give away no more of his motives than he would in real life, that the audience would probably feel somewhat in the dark as to the why’s and where-fore’s of the hero’s actions, and would lose grip of the play until the final denouement made all clear.

Dr. Jack packs each line so full of meaning that he who runs may not read. But they well repay study, and are a real contribution to modern poetic drama.

MARGARET LADDEN ¹

A Critical Study of the Life and Novels of Bankim Chandra. –By Jayantakumar Dasgupta, M.A., Ph.D. (Published by the Calcutta University, 1937, with a Foreword by Rai K. N. Mitter Bahadur of the Calcutta University.)

The title-page shows that the work was the writer’s thesis approved for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in the University of London. The book gives an account of the condition of the Bengali novel before the advent of Bankim Chandra, a short sketch of his life and novels with a chapter on his mind and art. In the seventies and eighties of the last century Bankim’s name in Bengal was one to conjure with, not only because he was a pioneer novelist but as the best specimen of the Calcutta University (being one of her first graduates) and a first-class Deputy Magistrate who knew no partiality and favouritism. He was an intellectual giant with wonderful aptitude to absorb foreign ideas and could labour prodigiously. Unlike his many English friends and persons of a more easy-going life, he had no predilection for gay diversions or pastimes; but he utilised his meagre leisure hours by cleverly turning them to account as he was the author of 16 full-dress novels and 17 other works of a varied type with an unfinished novel in English. He stimulated an interest among his countrymen to love and cultivate the Bengali language and garlanded young Rabindranath in a fashionable marriage party as the harbinger of a new epoch in the literature of Bengal. He was not an idle visionary: like any other first-class European writer of today he was particular in keeping a strict account of the sale proceeds of his books. He ably edited a Bengali monthly, which made its vogue among his countrymen. He had his own select intellectual coterie, entrance to which was barred for the mediocre. In Government service he made a name for absolute fairmindedness and fearlessness. Later generations have failed to appraise him at his true worth, and Dr. Dasgupta has done well in selecting such a theme for his thesis when his countrymen are celebrating with great eclat his birth centenary.

But the book, however ambitious it might be, has failed in its effect. Replete with high-flown foot-notes and learned references and quotations, it has not shown Bankim in his true perspective. Much has been said about his creation of the modern Bengali style and novel, about his nationalism and composition of the Bande Mataram, about his natural penetration and insight into Bengali life and character. But Dr. Dasgupta has not cared to enquire into the interesting problem, viz. why Bankim Chandra has failed to satisfy the modern generation. Bankim Chandra brought about a compromise between the Eastern and Western culture, but left out of consideration the toiling mass–‘hewers of wood and drawers of water’–who are now asserting themselves allover the world. Even patriotism has been discounted today, because love of. One’s country is a convenient distraction into which people are lured in order that they may remain eternally docile and dedicate themselves as cannon-fodder to the imperialistic earth-hunger of their rulers. We are far off from the days of Bankim Chandra: hence there is lack of interest in his life and work. It was his shrewd intelligence and wonderful tact that enabled him to retain his post in the Executive Service and write at the same time Anandamath with its slogan Bande Mataram.

So far as the handling of his subject is concerned, the writer has in many places failed to do justice to it. From the list of Bankim Chandra’s works he has omitted eight important books, viz. Lok-rahasya (1874), Bibidha Samalochan (1876), Srimad Bhagabat Gita (1886), Bibidha Prabandha in two parts, Bengali Selections (1895) published under the auspices of the Calcutta University, Sakai Rachana Siksha (1898), and Samya, a collection of important essays. In the foot-note to p. 165 the writer is lured into concluding that Bankim Chandra’s novel Raj Singa was first published as ‘Ksudra Katha’, though the former phrase was merely introductory to a preface. On p. 3 Dr. Dasgupta says that "It (Nabababubilas) is spoilt by a peculiar style and by its mixture of Bengali and non-Bengali words," though an actual study of this very old book reveals that it has hardly any non- Bengali words. In his appendix to Chapter I, he gives with dates the names of 52 "works of fiction" published up to 1864, but Madanmohan’s Basabdatta included in this list was merely a narrative poem. To be really strict and fair, the writer should have included in this list at least 50 more works. In spite of an Errata, the book is yet unexpurgated of some mistakes "lacks in", p. 51; "inspite", p. 162; "Chatteree", p. 110; "robbiers", p. 104). The statement that Bankim "could not possibly depict many successful men as his opinions about the people he saw around him were far from high" is wholly irresponsible. The fact was that Bankim Chandra had an imperious personality and he could not brook any rival.

The subject has been needlessly clouded by introducing extraneous matters. The style is colourless and lacks charm and raciness. Except for some references here and there the writer could have written the same thesis in his own country. The materials used in the book have been better employed by many a writer during the centenary celebrations in a more scholarly and attractive way.

MOHINI MOHAN MUKHERJEE

The Ships and Boats of the Ajanta Frescoes.–By M. Fathulla Khan, with a Foreword by Nicholas de Roerich. (New Hyderabad Publications Co., 4126, Moosakhan Bazar, Secunderabad, Deccan. Price Rs. 2.)

In this eminently readable brochure Mr. Khan has brought together data from various books and writers regarding the boats and ships of ancient India which he correlates with those of the Ajanta paintings. To do justice to this highly suggestive theme, would require a canvas far larger than the one Mr. Khan has allowed himself. An enquiry into Indian and Indonesian literature and art would bring to light valuable information on the pleasure boat (secular and sacred), the racing boat which has survived to this day in Malabar, the passenger ferry, the pirate’s dhow and the regular ship carrying cargo and men, and the man of war. At Borobodur are some extraordinary reliefs of the Hindu ship recalling the Roman trireme, but far more artistic and beautiful. The Pallava and Chola navies swept the seas and made and unmade kings in the archipelago. The Cholas presumably made some definite contribution to the art of ship-building, because Arabic writers speak in respectful terms of the Chola nautical literature. Tamil literature reflects the intense maritime activity of the Tamil peoples: the poem Manimekalai throws a flood of light on Tamil navigation; noteworthy is its episode of a certain missionary who ran aground a cannibal island, but succeeded in civilising the cannibals. The Tamil language is also rich in nautical proverbs. Probably at some period of history emigration overseas was practised on such a colossal scale that the exodus had to be prohibited in the national interests; does not a prohibition imply the prevalence of the practice prohibited? And when these voyagers were in mid-ocean confronted by huge sea monsters and tidal billows, they thought of the oceanic Avatars–the Matsya-murti and Kurma-murti and the Jalasayee–and prayed to them, in addition to Varuna.

Mr. Khan says: "In India Art grew as an expression of religious impulse born of Buddhism." Buddhism was among the first to be studied by Orientalists and this circumstance has coloured the views of most writers on Indian Art. People were practising Art and Letters before the Buddha was born. The Buddha did not invent a language of his own, but spoke that which his father and mother and those around him spoke. Likewise if Buddhism employed the language of Art, that language also was inherited by it from a Hindu past–because the Buddha was just a protestant Hindu–and the inherited art-language was shared by every cult including Buddhism. In no sense can Buddhism be said to have created or originated the art or its forms. Of course it is another matter if by Buddhistic art is meant that early Indian art whose themes are drawn from Buddhistic mythology (which again is a reflex of the earlier Hindu mythology) or that it illustrates the teachings of Buddhism. The authors of ‘Ancient India and Civilisation’ quoted by Mr. Khan have understood this perfectly when they postulate an intimate connection between the Ajanta murals and Sanskrit poetry and drama.

Mr. Khan interprets the eyes carved on the stern of the ship as inspired by a belief that the ship was considered a living being and that she must see her way. Rather it was a decorative exuberance which inspired those wonderful monsters that belong to neither land nor sea–motifs that pervade all Indian handicraft from the humblest cottage utensil to the most magnificent man of war.

K. V. RAMACHANDRAN

Art and Beauty.–By S. N. Chamkur, with an Introduction by Dr. C. R. Reddy, Vice-Chancellor of the Andhra University. (Published by S. Balaramamurthy, B.L., Managing Director, The Madras People’s Bank Ltd. Madras. Price Rs. 10.)

This is a beautifully got-up album of 24 pictures by the well-known South Indian artist, Mr. Satya Narayana Chamkur. Mr. Chamkur was a distinguished student of the Sir J. J. School of Art, Bombay. The Principal, Mr. Gladstone Solomon, was favourably impressed by the work of the young artist who won several medals and prizes at exhibitions of Art. Afterwards he worked with the late lamented Damerla Rama Rao of Rajahmundry, and today Mr. Chamkur is one of just half-a-dozen artists carrying on the Rama Rao tradition in Andhra.

For several years now, there has been a rivalry between the Calcutta and Bombay schools of art. The former under the inspiration of E. B. Havell and Abanindranath Tagore harked to the ancient Indian technique in Painting as displayed in Ajanta; while the Bombay school under Mr. Gladstone Solomon continued to employ the technique of the West, though the themes and the motifs are Indian. But when we speak of Art that is Indian, we instinctively think of the great masters Abanindranath, Nandalal Bose and Asit Kumar Haldar. The Bombay school, in spite of its great claims, has failed to touch the soul of modern India.

But within the limits imposed by his training and technique, Mr. Chamkur has achieved great success. I have had the advantage of seeing his original water-colours like ‘The Call of Murali’ and ‘Siddhartha and the Dancers.’ In them Mr. Chamkur has attained a very high standard, both in composition and in colour scheme. His drawing is perfect, and his mastery of detail commendable. It is a pity that in the album they are reproduced only in half-tone.

Mr. Chamkur’s pen and ink sketches are a class by themselves, and reveal him as a careful student of Nature. He is also a portrait-painter in oils, and several of his oil-paintings adorn public institutions.

The present album ought to appeal to all lovers of art. It is an ideal gift-book.

K. RAMAKOTISWARA RAU

TELUGU

Nammalwar’s Publications.–(P. O. Box 251, Madras.)

Since the days when K. V. Lakshmana Rao and Dr. A. Lakshmipathi started the ‘Vijnana Chandrika’ series, several attempts have been made to bring out useful modern books in Telugu. Mr. Nammalwar has succeeded where many others failed, for, in addition to being a student of Telugu literature, he is a capable businessman. He studies the taste of the public, plans his books with foresight, publishes them in rapid succession, and prices them low, even while maintaining a certain standard of printing and get-up. The series covers a wide range–politics, history, poetry, drama, and the short story, and every book has been written by persons competent to handle the theme. For instance, Mr. G. Harisarvottama Rao writes on the Sino-Japanese conflict, and Mr. Pratapa Ramasubbayya on the Spanish tragedy. Among the volumes of short stories are the important contributions of Messrs. Gudipati Venkatachalam and Srinivasa Siromani. Srimati P. Kamalavati Devi gives a play and a story in one volume. A work of outstanding merit is Sasanka–a play of Tara’s love by Gudipati Venkatachalam. Further volumes by important writers like Messrs. B. Pattabhi Sitaramayya, S. V. Ramamurty and Adivi Bapiraju are promised.

Here is a praiseworthy attempt to bring modern knowledge to our doors in an attractive garb. Mr. Nammalwar has set about his task in right earnest, and he deserves to be warmly congratulated. I should like to tell him, however, that the proofs ought to be better read, and that his Series need not be too much like the Penguin Books in appearance.

K. RAMAKOTISWARA RAU

KANNADA

Mahapoora (A Novel)–By Seshagiri Rao Kulkarni. (Pp. 1-140. Manohara Grantha Mala, Dharwar. Price As. 12.)

Sridhar is a brilliant young graduate without means. He is picked up in his destitution by Barrister Krishnamurthy. Saroja is the beautiful educated daughter of one Srinivasrao, a well-to-do political leader from Karnatak. The desperate love and its too easy fulfillment between Saroja and Sridhar form the theme of the present novel. Having with her sufficient money, the girl is prepared to go away and get married but the lover is not; in his despair he determines to sever all connections and go away somewhere. He communicates this to the girl and goes away. Meanwhile the girl’s father has to see the Viceroy in connection with some urgent discussion regarding Karnatak Unification, and Sridhar, known to Srinivasrao, is summoned to accompany. Saroja could not but think that her lover was gone forever, but a telegram from Simla brings her love’s fulfillment. The father who had never considered Sridhar, in spite of all his brilliance, an eligible bridegroom for his daughter, had to consent when he found the lovers in each other’s arms. This is the story.

One sound canon of literary judgment is generally lost sight of. A short story, however elaborated by descriptions of places and persons, cannot be a novel; neither can an abridged novel be called a short story. A vivid picture of a dramatic moment is all that is at the centre of a short story. In a novel, on the other hand, the author has to satisfy greater expectations. It is not mere length that differentiates the two forms. The novel from the point of view of its theme stands on a more substantial basis in that it has a ‘plot’ with all its implications as regards variety in incidents, continuity in time, suggestion as to atmosphere, and, above all, significance in the scale of human interests. Mahapoora has no plot at all. It has no variety in incidents. An arresting dramatic climax, which generally compensates for paucity of incident, is conspicuous by its absence. All that happens in these pages is that the hero deplores his dependence, and the heroine languishes in her lovelorn condition until she is suddenly united with her lover. With characters that have about them an air of unreality and with unnecessarily elaborate descriptions, suited to the purposes of a better conceived plot, the novel Mahapoora reads disappointingly flat.

V. M. INAMDAR

1 Broadcast from Madras on 23rd June, 1938. Reproduced by courtesy of the All India Radio.