Chapter XXIX: Act I: , Gāndhārī’s admonition of Duryodhana. Humorous speech (vyāhāra)

is a remark made for the sake of some one else, which provokes a laugh, as when the Vidūṣaka in the Mālavikāgnimitra, Act II, by his chatter makes the damsel laugh, and permits the king longer to gaze on her charms. Mildness (mṛdava) denotes the turning of evil into good, or vice versa, as when in the Çakuntalā, Act II, the virtues of hunting, a vice in the eyes of the sacred law, are extolled.

It is an essential defect of Indian theory in all its aspects that it tends to divisions which are needless and confusing. Besides the elements of the garland we find thirty-three dramatic ornaments (nāṭyālaṁkāra) [697] and thirty-six characteristics or beauties (lakṣaṇa), [698] which cannot be distinguished as two classes on any conceivable theory, [699] for both consist largely of modes of exposition and figures of thought and diction, while they also contain, as recognized by Dhanaṁjaya, a number of feelings which fall within the sphere of sentiment and its discussion. Thus we find as ornaments the benediction, the lamentation, raillery, the use of argument to support a view (upapatti), the prayer, the expression of resolution, the reproach, the provocation, the adduction of a common opinion in order to administer covertly a rebuke, the request, the narrative, reasoning, and the telling of a story. The beauties again include the combination of merits of style with poetic figures; the grouping of letters to make up a name; the use of analogy and example; the citation of admitted facts to refute incorrect views; the fitting of expression to the sense; the explanation by reasoning of a fact which is not capable of sense perception; the description of an object from the point of view of place, time, or shape; the indication of a characteristic which serves to distinguish two objects otherwise alike; the allusion to the truth of the literal meaning of a name; the use of the names of famous persons in a eulogy of some living being; the expression unconsciously, under the influence of passion, of the contrary of what one means; the statement in succession (mālā) of several means to attain a desired object; the expression of two different views, one of which in reality strengthens the other; the reproach; the question; the use of commonplaces; eulogy; the employment of a comparison to convey a sense which it is not desired directly to express; the indirect expression of desire; the veiled compliment; and the address of gratitude. Unfortunately no scientific attempt at orderly arrangement or examination of the principles on which these matters are based is attempted.

The Nāṭyaçāstra [700] adds an account of four ornaments of the drama (nāṭakālaṁkāra), which the Daçarūpa ignores, doubtless for the adequate reason that these matters appertain to poetics in general, and they are treated of in vast detail by the text-books of that science. The first is simile, defined as a comparison based on the similarity of characteristics in two objects; there are five kinds, the simile which extols, that which condemns, that with an imagined thing, as when the elephant is likened to a winged mountain, that based on similarity, and that on partial similarity, as in ‘Her face is like the full moon, her eyes like the blue lotus’. The metaphor is an abridged comparison which unites the two objects so as to efface their distinction, as ‘The fisher Love casts on the ocean of this world his lure, woman’. The illuminator (dīpaka) is the figure of speech, which uses but one verb to express the connexion between a subject series and a string of qualifications. Of forms of alliteration (yamaka), the repetition of vowels and consonants forming different words and meanings, there are enumerated ten kinds, a striking proof of the importance attached to these verbal jingles in early poetics.

The Çāstra [701] adds some vague and valueless suggestions as to the use of these ornaments and metrical effects in connexion with the expression of the sentiments. The erotic sentiment demands metaphors and Dīpakas, and prefers the Āryā metre. The heroic affects short syllables, similes, and metaphors; in passages of lively dialogue the metres [702] Jagatī, Atijagatī, and Saṁkṛti; in scenes of battle and violence, the Utkṛti. The sentiment of fury adopts the same metres, and also favours short syllables, similes, and metaphors. The Çakvarī and Atidhṛti metres are appropriate to the pathetic sentiment; it prefers long syllables, a liking shared by the sentiment of horror.

An effort is made by later writers on poetics to apply to the doctrine of the sentiments the theory of excellencies (guṇa), which is laid down generally in Daṇḍin, Vāmana, Bhoja, and other writers. In Daṇḍin [703] we find assigned to the Vaidarbha style a miscellaneous number of qualities, ten in all, which are defined in terms sometimes vague and unsatisfactory; these qualities include both those of sense and sound (artha and çabda). They include strength or majesty (ojas), elevation (udāratva), clearness (prasāda), precision of exposition (arthavyakti), beauty or attractiveness (kānti), sweetness or elegance (mādhurya), metaphorical language (samādhi), and in the use and combination of sounds homogeneity (samatā), softness (sukumāratā), and a natural flow (çleṣa). The chief opponent of the Vaidarbha style is given as the Gauḍa; it is vaguely credited with the possession of features the opposite of those of its rival; more specifically, we find it credited with the fondness for the use of long compounds both in prose and verse, while the Vaidarbha objects to such compounds in verse at least, and with affecting alliterations. Vāmana [704] develops the doctrine by distinguishing ten qualities of sense and ten of sound, and he ascribes all the qualities to the Vaidarbha style; to the Gauḍa he allots reliance on force and beauty, to the exclusion of sweetness and softness, while he recognizes as a third style the Pāñcāla, which is marked with sweetness and softness, and therefore is rather feeble. In Mammaṭa [705] and later we find a new view of the qualities; those of sense are explained away as being rather the absence of defects (doṣa), so that the qualities are reduced to the sphere of sound alone. In this regard they are further reduced from ten to three, sweetness, strength, and clearness, and these are now brought into effective connexion with the sentiments.

Sweetness, the source of pleasure, causing as it were the melting of the heart, is appropriate in the sentiments of love in enjoyment, pathos, love in separation, and calm; it is normal in love in union, and rises in degree successively in the other three forms of sentiment; unmixed in the others, in that of calm it is combined with a small degree of strength, because of the relation of the sentiment of calm to the emotion of disgust. Strength causes the expansion of the heart; it rises in vehemence in the sentiments of heroism, horror, and fury, and it is found also in that of terror. The quality of clearness is appropriate to all the sentiments, and is that which causes the sense to become intelligible, pervading the mind as fire does wood or water a cloth, as the outcome of merely hearing the words. The precise mode in which sweetness is produced is by the use of mutes other than cerebrals, with their appropriate nasals, r and ṇ with short vowels, and no compounds or short compounds; strength results from the use of compound letters, doubled letters, conjunct consonants of which r forms part, cerebrals other than ṇ, palatal and cerebral sibilants, and long compounds. The older names, Vaidarbha, Gauḍa, and Pāñcāla are now given up in favour of refined (upanāgarikā), harsh (paruṣā), and soft (komalā). But Mammaṭa reminds us that in drama very long compounds are undesirable, a rule ignored largely by the later dramatists.

More important than these technical details, which are illustrated often enough in the verses composed by the later dramatists, and no doubt possess considerable antiquity, is the changed view [706] which brings the qualities in the new sense into relation with the sentiment. Sentiment is the very soul of poetry, and the relation of the qualities to it may be most effectually compared with that of such virtues as heroism to the soul of man. They serve to heighten the effect of the sentiment, and therefore they cannot be considered save in close relation to that sentiment. However soft and sweet the verbal form of a work, none the less it cannot be said to possess the quality of sweetness, unless it has a sentiment to which sweetness is appropriate. To give it the name of sweet, if the sentiment is incompatible with sweetness, is compared with regarding a tall man as brave on the strength of his appearance only. The sounds, therefore, produce the qualities only as instruments, for the real cause is the sentiment, even as the soul is the true cause of the heroism and other qualities of a man.

The case of figures, whether of sound or sense, is somewhat similarly handled; the figures are compared with the ornaments which, placed on a man’s body, and through this union with him, gratify the soul; the figures adorn words and meanings which are parts of poetry by their union with them, and thus serve to heighten the sentiment, provided one exists. If there is no sentiment, through the defective ability of the poet, then the figures serve merely to lend variety to the composition, and even when sentiment exists the figures may fail to be appropriate to it. Both figures and qualities thus are in a very intimate relation with the sentiment, but that does not mean that the two are identical.

From this doctrine, which makes sentiment essentially the main element in poetry, the view of Vāmana, [707] who laid down that style was the soul of poetry and that the qualities give the essential beauty or distinction (çobhā) to a poem, while the figures increase such distinction, is necessarily regarded as inadequate. If the doctrine is interpreted to mean that it is the possession of all the qualities which makes a poem, then all compositions in the Gauḍa and Pāñcāla styles would be denied the rank of poetry; if the presence of a single quality gave the right to the style of poem, then a perfectly prosaic verse passage containing the quality of strength would have to be dubbed a poem, while a stanza containing elegant figures, but no qualities, would be denied that style, which in point of fact is regularly accorded by usage and must be recognized as valid.

As regards language we have, as often in the theory, no explanation of a principle which is laid down as accepted, the divergent use of Sanskrit and Prākrit in the same play. Yet it cannot be held that, when the theory was developed in such works as the Daçarūpa, and very possibly in the Nāṭyaçāstra itself, the usage of the plays could be put down simply to the copying of the actual practice in real life. That such was its origin we may believe in the general way; the Vidūṣaka in the Mṛcchakaṭikā derides a woman using Sanskrit as resembling a young cow with a rope through her nose; but there is evidence that already in the time of the Kāmaçāstra [708] the use of Prākrit was artificial. We are there told that the cultured man about town (nāgaraka) in social meetings (goṣṭhī), should neither confine himself to Sanskrit nor to the vernacular (deçabhāṣā) if he is to win repute for good manners. We have here a sign that matters were already, at the time of the Kāmaçāstra, much in the same condition as in modern India, where the use of Sanskrit terms with the vernacular is a regular sign of education. Now Vātsyāyana tells us clearly that those who frequent such gatherings are hetaerae, Viṭas, Vidūṣakas, and Pīṭhamardas, in short the wits of the court, and to them in the theory is assigned Çaurasenī and kindred Prākrit dialects. We are justified, therefore, in assuming that at Vātsyāyana’s epoch in actual life, as opposed to the conventional existence of the stage, Prākrits were definitely out of employment. The same text includes in the requisites of the knowledge of a hetaera the knowledge of the local speech, and, as there is no doubt of the knowledge of the Andhras as kings by Vātsyāyana, it is interesting to note that in the famous passage in which Somadeva tells of the reason why the Bṛhatkathā [709] was written in Paiçācī he treats as the three forms of human speech contemporaneous with Sātavāhana, whose name shows his connexion with the Andhras, Sanskrit, Prākrit, and the vernacular.

The date of Vātsyāyana thus becomes of interest, but unluckily it is still undefined with any precision. [710] It certainly seems, however, that Kālidāsa was familiar with a text very similar to and perhaps identical with the Kāmaçāstra, and this reasonably may be regarded as giving A.D. 400 as the lower limit of date. That the Kauṭilīya Arthaçāstra has been used by Vātsyāyana gives no precise result, in view of the difficulty of dating exactly that text. But the mention by Vātsyāyana of the Ābhīras [711] and Andhras certainly suggests, taken into conjunction with his silence as to the Guptas, that he wrote before the power of the latter had established itself in western India, and we may assign his work to approximately A.D. 300. If so we must believe that already in Kālidāsa’s age the Prākrits of his characters were more or less artificial, and with this well accords his introduction of Māhārāṣṭrī for the verses of those to whom Çaurasenī is assigned in prose, an obviously literary device.

Elaborate rules for the use of language [712] by the characters are given in the Nāṭyaçāstra and, in much less detail, by the Daçarūpa. The use of Sanskrit is proper in the case of kings, Brahmins, generals, ministers, and learned persons generally; the chief queen is assigned it, and so also ministers’ daughters, but this rule is not in practice observed. On the other hand, it is used by Buddhist nuns, hetaerae, artistes, and others on occasion. It is a rule that in the description of battles, peace negotiations, and omens Sanskrit shall be resorted to, and this is done by Bṛhannalā in Bhāsa’s Pañcarātra. The use of Sanskrit by allegorical female types is also found both early and late.

The general rule for women and persons of inferior rank [713] is the use of Prākrit, but it may be resorted to as a means of self-aid by persons of higher position. The types of Prākrit to be used are described with much confusion in the Nāṭyaçāstra, and the amount of variation contemplated is large. Thus the use of Çaurasenī is permitted in the Çāstra in lieu of the dialect of the Barbara, Andhra, Kirāta, and Draviḍa, though these may be used. The Çāstra gives seven different Prākrits as in use. Çaurasenī is the speech of the land between the Yamunā and the Gan̄gā or Doab; it is to be used by the ladies of the play, their friends and servants, generally by ladies of good family and many men of the middle class. Prācyā is assigned to the Vidūṣaka, but in fact he speaks practically Çaurasenī, and therefore the term can only denote an eastern Çaurasenī dialect. Āvantī is ascribed to gamblers or rogues (dhūrta), but is only an aspect of Çaurasenī, as spoken at Ujjayinī, and the Prākrit grammarian Mārkaṇḍeya calls it a transition between Çaurasenī and Māhārāṣṭrī. Māhārāṣṭrī is unknown to the Çāstra; it is assigned to the verses of persons who use Çaurasenī by the Daçarūpa, while the Sāhityadarpaṇa limits it to the verses of women; normally, but not absolutely, it is used in all verses, [714] though Çaurasenī verses occasionally occur, and possibly were more frequent originally. The earlier drama of Açvaghoṣa and Bhāsa has no clear evidence of Māhārāṣṭrī at all. Ardha-Māgadhī is prescribed for slaves (ceṭa), Rājaputras and guildsmen (çreṣṭhin) by the Çāstra, but, save in Açvaghoṣa and possibly the Karṇabhāra of Bhāsa, it is unknown to our dramas. Māgadhī, on the other hand, is important in theory, and of some consequence in practice; it is ascribed to all those men who live in the women’s apartments, diggers of underground passages, keepers of drink shops, watchers, and is used in time of danger by the hero, and also by the Çakāra, according to the Çāstra. The Daçarūpa assigns it and Paiçācī to the lowest classes, which accords with facts as regards Māgadhī, but Paiçācī is not found clearly in the dramas.

The Nāṭyaçāstra provides for the use of Dākṣiṇātyā in the case of soldiers (yodha), police officers (nāgaraka), and gamblers (dīvyant), and there are slight traces in the Mṛcchakaṭikā of the existence of this dialect. Bālhīkā is assigned by the same authority to the Khasas and the northerners, but has not yet been traced in any drama.

We learn also from the Çāstra and from Mārkaṇḍeya in special of a number of Vibhāṣās, [715] which seem to be modified forms of the more normal Prākrits, as stereotyped for use by certain characters in the drama. Thus the Çāstra attributes Çākārī to the Çakas, Çabaras, and others, while the Sāhityadarpaṇa accords Çābarī to these persons. The Çāstra ascribes Çābarī to charcoal-burners, hunters, wood-workers, and partly also to forest dwellers in general, and Ābhīrī is ascribed with the option of Çābarī to herdsmen, Cāṇḍālī to Caṇḍālas, and Drāviḍī to Draviḍas, while Oḍri, mentioned by the Çāstra, is left unascribed; presumably it was assigned to men of Orissa. Something of this is seen in the Mṛcchakaṭikā, where Çākārī, Cāṇḍālī, and a further speech Ḍhakkī or Ṭākkī appear. They all have nothing very marked as to their characteristics; the first two may be allied to Māgadhī, the last is more dubious.

The addition of Chāyās or translations in Sanskrit to explain the Prākrit is normal in the manuscripts of the dramas, and it is certain that it is old, for it is alluded to by Rājaçekhara in his Bālarāmāyaṇa. Evidently, even so early as A.D. 900, there was no public which cared for Prākrit without a Sanskrit explanation.

On the subject of the use of stanzas, as opposed to prose, the text-books are curiously and unexpectedly silent. [716] This indicates how entirely empirical they are in these matters. The use of Prākrits in the dramas obviously varied, and something had to be said regarding this point, but the alternation of prose and verse is accepted as something established, on which comment is unnecessary. The fact is recognized, but its implications and purpose remain unexplored. In the stanzas themselves, it is clear, we must distinguish between those which were sung and those which were simply recited; recitation must clearly have been the normal form of use, and as sung we have normally at any rate only some of the stanzas in Māhārāṣṭrī which are placed in the mouths of women. Çaurasenī stanzas, on the other hand, we may assume to have been recited, but the distinction has practically vanished from the texts preserved.

7. THE DANCE, SONG, AND MUSIC

Of the part played by the song, dance, and music in the drama the theorists curiously enough tell us comparatively little of interest, though it is certain that both were most important elements in the production of sentiment. The types of dance recognized in the Nāṭyaçāstra are two, the violent dance of men, invented by Çiva himself, the Tāṇḍava, and the tender and voluptuous dance of Pārvatī, the Lāsya. The latter alone, by reason of its special importance, is carefully analysed into ten parts by the Çāstra, [717] which shows the essential union of song and dance. The first is the song proper, which is sung by one seated, to the accompaniment of a lute, without dancing; the recitation standing (sthitapāṭhya) is a declamation in Prākrit by a woman pacing rapidly under the influence of love, or it may also mean, according to Abhinavagupta, a declamation by a woman in anger. The recitation sitting (āsīna) is performed by a woman lying down, under the stress of sorrow, without musical accompaniment. In the Puṣpagaṇḍikā various metres are used; Sanskrit may be employed; men act as women and vice versa, and there is a musical accompaniment. In the Pracchedaka a woman sings to the lute her grief at her lover’s infidelity. The Trigūḍha is the acting of a man in woman’s dress, as of Makaranda in the Mālatīmādhava, Act VI. The Saindhava is a song to a clear accompaniment of a lady whose love has failed to keep his tryst. The Dvigūḍhaka is a harmonious song, full of sentiment, in dialogue form. The Uttamottaka is a song filled with the bitterness of a troubled love. The Uktapratyukta is a duet, in which one lover addresses to the other feigned reproaches. These divisions, of course, appear to ignore their nature as parts of a dance, but it must be remembered that the motions of the performers are essential in the performance.

The music of the drama is not described at length in the later theorists; what is clear is that each sentiment has its special appropriate music, and each action its special accompaniment. Thus the Dvipadikās accompanied the performance of the rôles of persons distressed, unwell, and unhappy; the Dhruvās were chosen so as to intimate at once to the audience the quality of the new arrival on the stage. [718]

8. THE PRELIMINARIES AND THE PROLOGUE

The Nāṭyaçāstra [719] prescribes an elaborate series of preliminaries (pūrvaran̄ga) which must be performed before the actual drama begins; they are intended to secure divine favour for the performance, each act having a definite share in the result, and doubtless they present us with a reminiscence of the early theatre in the mingling of music, dance, and song. First there is the beat of drum (pratyāhāra) announcing the beginning of the performance, and the carpet is spread out for the orchestra; the singers and the musicians then enter and take their places (avataraṇa): then the chorus try their voices (ārambha); the musicians try their instruments (āçrāvaṇā); they tune up their wind and string instruments, and manipulate their hands to make them ready for the work; then an instrumental concert follows, succeeded by the appearance and practice steps of the dancers. [720] A song follows, to please the gods; then the Tāṇḍava is performed, increasing in violence as it proceeds; then a song accompanies the raising by the Sūtradhāra of the banner (jarjara) of Indra; he scatters flowers and purifies himself with water from a pitcher borne by an attendant, while another carries the banner; there follows a perambulation of the stage, the praise of the world guardians, and homage to the banner. Then comes the Nāndī or benediction; it is followed by the recitation by the Sūtradhāra of a verse in honour of the god whose festival it is, or the king or a Brahmin; then comes the Ran̄gadvāra, which is said to mark the beginning of the dramatic action (abhinaya), the Sūtradhāra reciting another verse, and bowing before the banner of Indra. There follow steps and movements of erotic character (cārī) in honour of Umā, and more violent movements of the same kind in honour of the Bhūtas. A discussion (trigata) between the Sūtradhāra, the Vidūṣaka, who talks nonsense, and an attendant follows. Finally the Prarocanā announces the content of the drama, and the Sūtradhāra and his two attendants leave the stage, and the preliminaries are ended.

Immediately after, according to the Nāṭyaçāstra, another person, similar in appearance and qualities to the Sūtradhāra, is to enter and introduce the play, a function which gives him the style of introducer, Sthāpaka. [721] His costume should indicate the nature of the drama, as dealing with divine or human affairs. An appropriate song greets his entrance, he dances a Cārī, praises the gods and Brahmins, propitiates the audience by verses alluding to the subject of the play, mentions the name of the author and the play, and describes some season in the verbal manner, thereby opening the prologue (prastāvanā, āmukha, sthāpanā) [722] of the play. The essential feature of the prologue is an address by the director with an attendant (pāripārçvika) or an actress or the Vidūṣaka on some personal business which indirectly hints at the drama. The mode of connexion is given by Dhanaṁjaya as threefold, as in the Nāṭyaçāstra; the words of the director may be caught up (kathodghāta) by a character in the drama, entering from behind the curtain, as in the Ratnāvalī Yaugandharāyaṇa catches up the consolation offered to the actress which is applicable to his own scheme, and in the Veṇīsaṁhāra Bhīma brusquely denounces the benediction of his adversaries. Or a person may enter (pravṛttaka), who has just been mentioned by the director in a comparison with the season of the year, as in the Priyadarçikā. Excess of representation (prayogātiçaya) is taken in the Daçarūpa as applying to a case where the director actually mentions the entry of a character of the drama, as at the beginning of the Çakuntalā, where he assures the actress that her song has enchanted him, as the gazelle enchants Duḥṣanta, who just then enters. Viçvanātha, on the other hand, treats this form as an instance of continuance (avalagita), and interprets the phrase as denoting the supersession of the director’s action; thus, in the lost Kundamālā, about to call on the actress to dance, he hears the word, ‘Lady, descend’, and realizes that it is a reference to Sītā, who is being led into exile. He admits also the abrupt dialogue (udghātya) as a means of connexion; thus in the Mudrārākṣasa the director alludes to the demon of eclipse as eager to triumph over Candra, the moon, and Cāṇakya behind the scenes calls out, ‘Who then while I live claims to triumph over Candragupta?’ and enters a moment later. The theorist Nakhakuṭṭa is also credited with the view that a voice behind the scenes or from the air may be used to introduce the chief personage.

This account of the preliminaries and the prelude presents obvious difficulties both in itself and in connexion with the actual specimens of the Sanskrit drama. The Daçarūpa and Viçvanātha alike give no details of the preliminaries, and the Nāṭyaçāstra indicates that, in addition to the complete form of Pūrvaran̄ga, there might be an abbreviated form and also an extended form with additional ceremonials. There is an obvious overlapping between the Pūrvaran̄ga and the rest of the performance, for the last element of the former, the giving the content of the drama in the Prarocanā, is essentially an element in the latter. We are quite definitely told by Viçvanātha that in his time there was not a complete performance of the preliminaries; when, therefore, we find in Bhāsa’s dramas that there is no mention of the name of the author or the drama in the prologue, we may safely assume that it was after his time that the practice grew up of transferring from the preliminaries, which were not a matter for the poet, the substance of the Prarocanā, and embodying it in the poet’s own work. In Viçvanātha’s time also we are told that the Sūtradhāra or director performed the whole of the work assigned in the theory to him and the Sthāpaka. But it is extremely difficult to say how far back this goes; the extant dramas with occasional exceptions, [723] such as Rājaçekhara’s Karpūramañjarī and Mādhava’s Subhadrāharaṇa mention only the Sūtradhāra, and Pischel [724] suggested that it was Bhāsa who banished the Sthāpaka, in view of the reference in Bāṇa to his dramas as begun by the Sūtradhāra. It is uncertain, however, what precisely the sense of this reference is. The Daçarūpa expressly provides for the activity of the Sthāpaka, but then proceeds to style him Sūtradhāra, and there is agreement that he is to have the attributes of the Sūtradhāra, so that the use of the name may merely be explained by this reason. This is certainly supported by the express reference in the Sāhityadarpaṇa to the transfer of his functions to the Sūtradhāra and the silence of the Daçarūpa on this head. The point would be of importance only if it meant that Bhāsa dropped the Pūrvaran̄ga as part of the drama; nothing, however, even hints at this; as we have seen, his omission to name himself or his play in the prologue tells strongly in favour of the view that the old Prarocanā was still in use.

More complex still is the question of the Nāndī or benediction. Most Sanskrit dramas open with a verse or verses of this type, followed by the remark, ‘At the close of the Nāndī the Sūtradhāra enters,’ but in Bhāsa’s dramas, in old manuscripts of the Vikramorvaçī, and now and then in South Indian manuscripts of such plays as the Nāgānanda, the Mudrārākṣasa, and other more modern dramas, [725] we find the play begun with these words, and a verse or verses following. We have also the direct testimony of Viçvanātha, who tells us that some authorities held that the introductory verse in the Vikramorvaçī which normally passes for the Nāndī was not that at all, but was the Ran̄gadvāra, with which, according to the Nāṭyaçāstra, the play properly begins, as in it we first find acting in the shape of a combination of speech and action; that verse, they argued, could not be reconciled with the definition of the extent of the Nāndī given in the Nāṭyaçāstra; others, however, on the authority of Abhinavagupta repelled this objection. Viçvanātha adopts as the definition of Nāndī what is recited in praise of a deity, Brahmin, king or the like, and is accompanied by a benediction, consisting of twelve inflected words (with nominal or verbal endings) or eight lines (quarter-verses); this would exclude the beginning of the Vikramorvaçī, but Abhinavagupta permits of a greater variety of forms. In Viçvanātha’s view the Nāndī is part of the preliminaries, which must be preserved, however much these are shortened. It is clear, therefore, that gradually the benediction, like the Prarocanā with its appeal to the benevolence of the audience, [726] came to be worked into the play by the author himself, though the period when the custom became normal cannot be stated with any precision, and in the south of India, at any rate, the older practice of leaving the benediction to the Sūtradhāra seems to have been sometimes followed. There can, indeed, be little doubt that the extent to which the preliminaries were retained differed from time to time; Viçvanātha evidently contemplates their almost total disappearance, but the Amṛtodaya of Gokulanātha in the sixteenth century assumes their presence; the authority of the Nāṭyaçāstra told heavily in their favour, and the stock phrase, ‘Enough of this ceremony,’ which occurs frequently at the opening of the plays, doubtless refers to the dance, song, and music with which the drama was prefaced. [727]

These facts explain the confusion [728] of the notices of the theorists as to the actor by whom the benediction is to be recited. We find ascribed to Bharata the view that a special actor, the Nāndī, should recite it, or that duty should be performed by the Sūtradhāra; another authority permits the Sūtradhāra or any other actor to recite it. The situation is complicated by the rule that at the end of the preliminaries the Sūtradhāra is supposed to leave the stage and the Sthāpaka to come on, while our dramas, as a rule, have the benediction followed by the entry of the Sūtradhāra, or rarely, as in the Pārthaparākrama, the Sthāpaka. The theory, therefore, suggests that the benediction is recited by the Sūtradhāra or Sthāpaka (called Sūtradhāra by reason of similarity of function and character) behind the curtain, and then he enters on the stage. The matter is not cleared up by the practice followed in the embryo dramas introduced into others: in that included in the Bālarāmāyaṇa the Sūtradhāra recites a benediction of twelve inflected words, and then proceeds with the prologue without a break; in the Jānakīpariṇaya it is one of the actors who does so, as in Ravivarman’s Pradyumnābhyudaya, the director then beginning the play; in the Caitanyacandrodaya the benediction is recited behind the curtain, but that is stated to be because the piece to be acted is a Bhāṇa or Vyāyoga, implying that in other cases it normally was recited on the stage, presumably by an actor other than the director.

The extent of the benediction was, as we have seen, disputed. [729] Bharata’s rule of eight or twelve Padas does not stand alone, for he is credited with mentioning four or sixteen as possible numbers, and Pada may mean inflected word, line, or proposition. Abhinavagupta allows three, six, or twelve Padas in a benediction of three times; four, eight, or sixteen in one of four times; and definitely takes Pada as proposition; illustrations of eight- and twelve-Pada benedictions of this type are given by Abhinavagupta and Bharata. The dramas differ; the Çakuntalā has one of eight propositions or four lines; the Ratnāvalī four stanzas; the Mālatīmādhava and the Mudrārākṣasa eight lines each; the Uttararāmacarita twelve words.

Harmony between the benediction and the character of the drama is naturally demanded by the theory, and is observed largely in practice; thus the Prabodhacandrodaya, a philosophic drama, begins with an adoration of the sole reality, the Mudrārākṣasa, a drama of political intrigue, with a verse as tortuous as the diplomacy of Cāṇakya. It is a characteristic of the determination to carry matters to extremes which distinguishes Indian theory that attempts are made to extract from the benediction not merely a general harmony with the theme, but also a reference both to the main characters and to the chief events. [730]

9. THE TYPES OF DRAMA

The types of drama are distinguished by the theorists according to the use which they make of the various dramatic elements enumerated. The highest of the ten main forms, Rūpakas, is the Nāṭaka or heroic comedy. The term is generic; it may denote any representation whether by pictures or dumb show, but it has also the more important specific sense of the drama proper.

The subject of a Nāṭaka [731] should be drawn from tradition, not invented; the hero should be a king, royal sage, or god, who may appear in human form; the dominant sentiment must be the heroic or the erotic, but all may be illustrated, and that of wonder is well suited for the dénouement, which should be led up to through the whole series of stages of the action and junctures. The end must be happy; tragedy is forbidden, though the prohibition is unexplained. The prose should be simple without elaborate compounds; the verses clear and sweet; the Prākrits should be varied; the whole style noble and harmonious, with full use of all the beauties and the adventitious attractions of the song and the dance as well as music. The number of acts should be from five to ten; if a play contains every kind of episode, it is styled a Mahānāṭaka, if it has ten acts. The rule is generally obeyed, but late dramas styling themselves Nāṭakas are known of one (Ravidāsa’s Mithyājñānaviḍambana), two (Vedāntavāgīça’s Bhojacarita), three, or four acts, [732] and one comparatively early work exists in one version of fourteen acts, without any passage in Prākrit, the Mahānāṭaka; the Adbhutārṇava of a Kavibhūṣaṇa has twelve acts. The name of a Nāṭaka should be derived from the hero or the subject-matter, and this is regularly the case. Four or five is the number of chief personages permitted.

The bourgeois comedy, Prakaraṇa, [733] is a comedy of manners of a rank below royalty, which in the main follows the laws of construction of the Nāṭaka. The subject-matter is to be framed at his good pleasure by the poet. The hero should be a Brahmin, minister, or merchant, who has fallen on evil days and is seeking through difficulties to attain property, love, and the performance of duty, in which he at last succeeds. The heroine may be of three types, a lady of good family, as in the lost Puṣpadūṣita (°bhūṣita); a hetaera as in the lost Taran̄gadatta; or a lady of good family may share the honours with a hetaera, with whom, however, she may not come in contact, as in the Cārudatta and the Mṛcchakaṭikā. The drama offers an appropriate place for slaves, Viṭas, merchant chiefs, and rogues of various kinds. The erotic sentiment should dominate, though Dhanaṁjaya allows also the heroic, and the structure should include all five junctures. The number of acts should be as in the Nāṭaka, and the name be derived from the hero or heroine or both, as in the Mālatīmādhava and the Çāriputraprakaraṇa of Açvaghoṣa. It must, however, be noted that the Pratijñāyaugandharāyaṇa has but four acts, and the Mṛcchakaṭikā, unlike the Cārudatta, does not follow the rule as to name.

The supernatural drama, Samavakāra, [734] is described in our sources obviously on the basis of a single play, the Amṛtamanthana, the churning of the ocean to obtain the ambrosia, at which all participants attained their desires. The precise duration of each of its three acts is given, at twelve, four, and two Nāḍikās (of forty-eight minutes). The subject must be taken from a tale of the gods and demons. The juncture, pause, is omitted, and the expansion (bindu) as an element of the plot. The number of heroes may reach twelve, each pursuing an object which he attains. The heroic sentiment dominates. Each act exhibits one type of cheating, tumultuous action, and love. The graceful manner is excluded, or but faintly developed; the Uṣṇih, Kuṭila, and Anuṣṭubh metres are appropriate. The description fits but loosely Bhāsa’s Pañcarātra, the only old drama to which that name may plausibly be applied.

The Īhāmṛga, [735] of which no old example is known, owes its name, according to the Daçarūpāvaloka to the fact that in it a maiden as hard to attain as a gazelle (mṛga) is sought after (īhā). The subject is one partly derived from legend and partly the poet’s imagination; in special, if the legend relates the death of a great man, this result must be avoided. The essence of the drama is that some one seeks to deprive the hero, who on one view may be divine or human, on another divine only, of a heavenly maiden; the result is a conflict of wills, but actual fighting is to be avoided by artifice. The hero and his rival must both be of the noble and haughty type; the latter must do wrong in error. Only the first two and the last junctures are allowed, and the graceful style is excluded. There are four acts, but Viçvanātha mentions a view which allows one act only and makes the hero a god, or six rivals for a divine maiden’s hand.

The Ḍima [736] is also little known, though the Nāṭyaçāstra cites a Tripuradāha as a specimen. Its subject is to be legendary; there is to be no pause juncture. The heroes are sixteen gods, demi-gods, and demons, all of the haughty type; magic, sorcery, combats, eclipses of the sun and moon are in place. The erotic and comic sentiments are excluded, that of fury is predominant. There are four acts without introductory scenes of any kind, but the late Manmathonmathana of Rāma has them. The graceful manner is forbidden. It is clear that the type is described on the basis of inadequate material; it may represent a popular form of entertainment which did not attain full recognition. The origin of the name is unknown, for no root ḍim, to wound, is found in the language, though Dhanika asserts its existence.

The Vyāyoga [737] is, as its name suggests, a military spectacle. Its subject must be legendary, its hero a god or royal sage, but Dhanaṁjaya allows a man. It is in one act, the action not extending over a day, and it is filled with strife and battle, the intervention of women as the cause of battle being excluded. The first two and last junctures alone are permitted, the erotic and comic sentiments are barred, and the graceful manner. The type is old, for it is found in Bhāsa and revives later.

The Act or Isolated Act (An̄ka, Utsṛṣṭikān̄ka) [738] is a single-act piece, whose longer style serves to discriminate it from an act of a normal drama. Its subject is taken from legend, but may be developed by the poet; the first and last junctures alone are permitted. The hero should be human, of the common folk, according to the later theory. The sentiment should be the pathetic, and the style the verbal. The laments of women should accompany the description of battles and fights, but these should not take place on the stage. Viçvanātha gives the Çarmiṣṭhāyayāti as an example, but the type is not represented by any early play.

The farce, Prahasana, [739] on the other hand, has every sign of popular origin and vogue. The subject is the poet’s invention; it deals essentially with the tricks and quarrels of low characters of every kind. There is but one act, and only the first and last junctures; the comic sentiment predominates. The Daçarūpa recognizes three kinds; the pure is that in which heretics, Brahmins, men- and maid-servants and parasites are represented in appropriate costume and language; the modified represents eunuchs, chamberlains, and ascetics in the garb, and with the speech, of lovers; and the mixed is styled so because it contains the elements of the Vīthī, and is filled with rogues. Only the first and last are recognized by the Nāṭyaçāstra, the second being included in the third, while Viçvanātha recognizes the possibility of there being only one hero or several, and allows the use of two acts in such a case, as in the Laṭakamelaka. The graceful and violent manners are excluded.

The monologue, Bhāṇa, [740] has also an obviously popular character and origin. The subject-matter is invented by the poet; a parasite sets forth his own or another’s adventures, appealing to both the heroic and the erotic sentiments by descriptions of heroism and beauty in the verbal manner. There are only the first and last junctures, and but one act. The actor speaks in the air, repeating answers supposed to be received. The elements of the Lāsya are specially in place, a fact which shows that we have here a formal version of a primitive mimetic performance. Viçvanātha gives as example the Līlāmadhukara; the Çāradātilaka is one of the best known.

The garland, Vīthī, [741] has a certain similarity to the Bhāṇa in that it includes frequent speeches in the air, and is in one act. But it is played by one or two actors, or, according to Viçvanātha on one view found in the Nāṭyaçāstra, by three, one of each station in rank. The leading sentiment is the erotic, but others are hinted at. The graceful manner is forbidden by the Nāṭyaçāstra, but enjoined by the other authorities, and the elements of the garland are available. Only the first and last junctures are employed, but all the elements of the plot are present. The theorists are sadly at a loss to explain the name garland; it is suggested that the several sentiments are gathered into it as into a garland, or the meaning ‘way’ or ‘road’ is accepted in lieu. The only example given by Viçvanātha is the Mālavikā, which is not the Mālavikāgnimitra; the first act of the Mālatīmādhava is styled Bakulavīthī, but is in no sense even taken by itself an example of this type.

The later theory as seen in Viçvanātha [742] adds descriptions of eighteen minor forms of drama, Uparūpakas, which represent refinements on the original scheme. Needless to say, though omitted in the Nāṭyaçāstra, quotations are found ascribing to Bharata the doctrine, though he mentions in them but fifteen with several variations of name; [743] the Agni Purāṇa [744] mentions eighteen with some variants of name, while a verse cited by Dhanika [745] names seven forms of mimetic dramas, which it classes in conjunction with the Bhāṇa. The age of these divisions is, therefore, uncertain; the Daçarūpa condescends to mention only the Nāṭikā, but obviously knows of the existence of others, confining its scope to the main forms, as its title indicates.

The Nāṭyaçāstra [746] mentions, in a passage suspected of interpolation, but without special cause, a type of dramas Nāṭī, which later is styled Nāṭikā, or lesser heroic comedy. The subject-matter in this view may be either legendary or invented; the later opinion requires it to be invented as in the Prakaraṇa, which is the model for the Nāṭikā in this regard. The hero is to be that of the Nāṭaka, a gay king, and the intrigue consists of his efforts to attain marriage with the heroine, who is an ingénue of royal family, whom he is destined to marry, but who by some accident or design has been introduced into the harem in an inferior capacity. The lovers have to strive against the jealousy of the queen, a lady of mature character and devotion to the king, who at last is induced to sanction the nuptials. The life of the court gives opportunity for introducing music, song, and the dance as elements in the entertainment. The graceful manner is appropriate, and the erotic sentiment is prescribed; by an excess of zeal, when the drama as usual has four acts, they are in theory to contain each one of the four members of the graceful style. A lesser number of acts is allowed by Dhanaṁjaya. There is certainly not much difference between such a Nāṭaka as the Mālavikāgnimitra and the normal Nāṭikā, save the length, as expressed in the number of the acts, but it would be unwise to assert that the distinction is based on this alone. It is a fact that both in the Priyadarçikā and the Ratnāvalī the poet has freely enough invented his episodes, and this is a fact justifying the discrimination.

The little bourgeois comedy, the Prakaraṇikā, [747] is precisely of the same character as the Nāṭikā, save that its hero and heroine are of the merchant class. It is clear that it is due merely to a false desire for symmetry, as it is merely a Prakaraṇa when judged by the three determinants of plot, character, and sentiment, and Dhanika rightly rejects it as a species, though Viçvanātha admits it.

A variant of the Nāṭikā is the Saṭṭaka, [748] which differs from it merely by being all in Prākrit, in having no introductory scenes of any kind, and in having the acts called Javanikāntara. As the name denotes a form of dance, it is quite possible that it owes its origin as a species to the use of such dances in these plays. We have an example in Rājaçekhara’s Karpūramañjarī.

The Troṭaka [749] or Toṭaka is merely a variant of the Nāṭaka; the Bengālī recension of the Vikramorvaçī which contains Apabhraṅça verses and an appropriate dance of the distracted king alone gives the name. The term denotes both a dance and confused speech, and the origin of the species need be sought only in this peculiarity. The other manuscripts call it a Nāṭaka.

The other species enumerated have no representatives in the old literature, nor is this wonderful, for they show the character rather of pantomime with song, dance, and music than of serious drama; the Goṣṭhī [750] has nine or ten men and five or six women as actors; the Hallīça [751] is clearly a glorified dance; the Nāṭyarāsaka [752] a ballet and pantomime; the Prasthāna, [753] in which hero and heroine are slaves, is based on a mimetic dance; so also apparently are the Bhāṇikā, [754] or little Bhāṇa, and the Kāvya, both one-act pieces; the Rāsaka, of the same general type, includes dialect in its language. The Ullāpya may have one or three acts, and its hero is of high rank, while battles form part of its subject, as they do also in the Saṁlāpaka, which may have one, three, or four acts. The Durmallikā has four acts, a hero of low rank, and a precise time-table of duration of acts. The Vilāsikā has one act, but is interesting in that the hero has, to support him, not only the Vidūṣaka, but also the parasite and a friend (pīṭhamarda); the sentiment is erotic. The Çilpaka is mysterious, for it has four acts, allows all the manners, has a Brahmin as hero with a man of lower rank as secondary hero, excludes the calm and comic sentiments, and has twenty-seven most miscellaneous constituents; if a pantomime, it was clearly not amusing. The Pren̄khaṇa, or Prekṣaṇa, is a piece in one act, with a hero of low birth, full of combats and hard words; it has no introductory scenes, and both the benediction and the Prarocanā are performed behind the scenes, but none of the late works which bear approximately this title conforms to type. The Çrīgadita is in a single act, the story legendary, the hero and heroine of high rank, the manner verbal; the word Çrī is often mentioned, or the goddess is presented seated and singing some verse. The only play known of that name is the Subhadrāharaṇa of Mādhava before A.D. 1600, which is much like an ordinary play, but contains a narrative verse, suggesting connexion with the shadow-drama. It is characteristic that the theory ignores wholly this type.

10. THE INFLUENCE OF THEORY ON PRACTICE

Though we cannot say precisely at what date the Nāṭyaçāstra obtained definite form, we can be assured that by the time of Kālidāsa it was not merely known, but its authority was already accepted as binding on poets. The mere fact that Kālidāsa’s dramas exhibit a marvellous fidelity to the rules of the Çāstra might be explained by the theory that it drew its principles from them rather than vice versa. But in his epics Kālidāsa, in due accord with the duty of a poet to display every form of his erudition, has emphatically shown a far-reaching competence in the terminology of the Çāstra. In the Kumārasambhava [755] Çiva and Pārvatī watched the performance in honour of their nuptials of a Nāṭaka in which the different dramatic manners were combined with the junctures, the modes of the music corresponded with the sentiments, and the Apsarases displayed their grace of form. There are similar references in the Raghuvaṅça. [756] The knowledge of the Çāstra by later writers goes without saying. The author of the Mudrārākṣasa [757] depicts Rākṣasa as comparing political combinations with the work of a dramatist and giving a brief plan of the structure of the drama, and Bhavabhūti [758] and Murāri [759] alike show familiarity with the terminology of the Çāstra as well as with its rules. The most complete proof, however, of the domination of the theory is the absence of any original creations in dramatic form. There must, it is certain, have been a time when the genius of Indian poetry was active in trying and developing the new instrument of drama, but with the appearance of the Nāṭyaçāstra this creative epoch came to all intents and purposes to a close, and the writers of the classical drama accept without question the forms imposed upon them by authority, although that authority rests on no logical or psychological basis, but represents merely generalizations, often hasty, from a limited number of plays.

The Nāṭaka, accordingly, remains the form of drama par excellence, a pre-eminence due to its comparative freedom from narrow restrictions as well as to the submissive spirit of the dramatists. The form serves very different purposes; it accommodates itself not only to the grace and charm of Kālidāsa, but to the unmeasured and irregular genius of Bhavabhūti; it permits of the political drama of Viçākhadatta, as well as the philosophical disquisitions of Kṛṣṇamiçra and the devotional fervour of Kavikarṇapūra’s Caitanyacandrodaya.

The Prakaraṇa is essentially similar to the Nāṭaka save in the social status of the hero and heroine; the distinction between the Mālatīmādhava and a Nāṭaka is far less important than the similarity. The Mṛcchakaṭikā, indeed, departs from type, but that is not surprising now that it is known that it is based on Bhāsa’s Cārudatta, which is not merely the work of a man of unusual talent, but came into being before the rules of the drama had attained the binding force they later achieved. The Nāṭikā, however, which is likewise closely allied to the Nāṭaka, became stereotyped at an early stage, leaving no room for serious innovation; the charms of the song and dance appear to have prevailed, and to have dissuaded efforts at originality of plot. The Vyāyoga is hardly more than an aspect of the Nāṭaka; the spirit of such works as those of Bhāsa in this genre is reflected in many passages of the Mahāvīracarita and the Veṇīsaṁhāra.

The farce and the monologue, of which we have many specimens in the later drama, are confined to representations of the lower and coarser side of life, but curiously enough they fail entirely to achieve what might have seemed the legitimate aim of a vivid portrayal of the lives and manners of contemporary society; tradition has proved too strong for the dramatists whose works deal with types, not individuals. On the other hand, we find practically no living tradition of the construction of dramas of the other five classes of the theory, Ḍima, Samavakāra, Īhāmṛga, Vīthī, and Utsṛṣṭikān̄ka. We may legitimately assume that these were types erected on little foundation of fact, and that, while the theory could restrict enterprise, it could not induce life in forms which had no real vitality of their own. The mere fact that later poets occasionally patronize these forms is sufficient evidence of the strength of the authority of the Çāstra. It is amazing, however, that we find no serious effort to produce pure comedy; the farce and the monologue may hover on the borders of that form; they certainly never attain it.

To the force of the tradition is presumably to be ascribed the absence of any effort at tragedy, though its absence undoubtedly coincides with the mental outlook of the Indian people and their philosophy of life. Bhāsa has indeed been claimed as a tragedian, but with complete disregard for the facts; there is in fact in his dramas disregard of the rule which objects to death on the stage, but the slain are always evil men, whose death is just punishment; the Ūrubhan̄ga may to us be tragic, but that is because we are not adorers of Viṣṇu who regard with relish the fate of the enemy of that god, the evil Duryodhana. The tragic sentiment is nowhere recognized, for the term (raudra), which is unhappily often so rendered, is the sentiment which is based on anger, and has nothing truly tragic in it. The idea is, indeed, entirely wanting in the theory as it is in the practice.

To the developed thought of India, as it existed during the vogue of the drama, there was little possibility of a realization of the elements of which Greek tragedy is composed. The conception of human activity striving with circumstance, endeavouring to assert itself in the teeth of forces superhuman in power and uncontrollable, and meeting with utter ruin, but yet maintaining its honour, which affords the spring of tragedy in Greece, is alien to Indian thought. Fate is nothing outside man; he is subject to no alien influences; he is what he has made himself by acts in past lives; if he suffers evil he has deserved it as just retribution, and to sympathize with him, to feel the pathos of his plight, is really unthinkable. Death, therefore, by violence is merely a just punishment of crime, and it is a more refined taste than that of Bhāsa which bids us banish from the stage the spectacle of what is no more than an execution, a scene as ill-suited to the decorum and good taste of the serious drama [760] as to the rude merriment of the farce or monologue.

11. ARISTOTLE AND THE INDIAN THEORY OF POETICS

It is natural that contemporaneously with the effort to prove the Greek origin of the Indian drama efforts [761] should have been made to establish the indebtedness of the Nāṭyaçāstra to Aristotle’s theory of drama. [762] There is no doubt of the many parallels between the two theories. The unity of action is fully recognized in the Çāstra, and the rule which insists that the events described in an Act shall not exceed in duration a day has a certain similarity to the unity of time in Aristotle, [763] and is much more significant than such agreement as there is as to unity of place. The doctrine that the drama is an imitation (anukṛti) does not differ from the doctrine of Mimesis, but there is an essential distinction in what is imitated or represented; in the Çāstra it is a state or condition, in Aristotle it is action, a distinction absolutely in accord with the different geniuses of the two peoples. The importance of acting is common in both schemes, but Aristotle makes little of the dance. Both stress the plot, which the Çāstra recognizes as the body of the drama. The Indian division of characters as high, middle, and low has a certain parallelism to the Aristotelian distinctions of modes of depicting character as ideal, real, and inferior. The Çāstra, like Aristotle, shows appreciation of the distinction between male and female characters. To some degree we find in the Çāstra the recognition of the necessity of conflict in drama, and of the emotions of pity and fear in the sentiment of pathos and in the element of the development known as Vidrava. The Çāstra also touches on the relation of the feelings aroused in the actor and in the audience as in the Poetics. Both recognize the use of significant names, and deal with the linguistic aspects of style.

Other suggestions of Greek influence may also be adduced; thus we have the mention of what seems a derivative of the Greek caryatides in the description of the theatre; the monologue may be based on the Greek Mime, and we have the actual mention in a passage of the Çāstra of Yavanas, while the description of the Viṭa suggests derivation from the Greek parasite. But it is impossible to take these pieces of evidence as conclusive proof of borrowing; we are, in fact, faced with the usual difficulty that, if there were borrowing, the Indian genius has known how to recast so cleverly and to adapt what it borrowed so effectively that the traces which would definitely establish indebtedness cannot be found. In all the instances enumerated there is no doubt similarity, but there is also essential difference such as renders independent development of the Indian doctrine at least as probable as borrowing.