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The Classical Drama of India

Studies in its Values for the

Literature and Theatre of the World

HENRY W. WELLS

Issued under the auspices of

THE LITERARY lfALF-YEARLY

ASIA PUBLISHING HOUSE

BOMBAY· CALCUTTA· MADRAS· NEW DELHI

LUCKNOW . LONDON · NEW YORK

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PRIN TED IN INDIA

BY Z. T. BANDUKWALA AT LEADERS PRESS PRIVATE LIMITED, BOMBAY AND PUBLISHED BY F. S. JAYASINGHE , ASIA PUBLISHING HOUSE, BOMBAY

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KAPILA VATSYAYANA

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/ Contents

1 INTRODUCTION 1

2 . POETIC DRAMA IN ENGLAND AND INDIA 6

,I( 3 SANSKRIT DRAMA AND THE WORLD STAGE 20

4 SANSKRIT DRAMA AND THE MODERN STAGE 31

5 SANSKRIT DRAMA AND INDIAN THOUGHT

6 ACHIEVEMENT IN EQUILIBRIUM 52

7 SACRED DRAMA 71

8 DEFICIENCIES 81

9 THE ART OF. SWOONIN G 90 /

;( 10 THEATRICAL TECHNIQUE ON THE SANSKRIT

STAGE 99

II SANSKRIT DRAMATIC STYLE II5

12 A PRAKARANA: THE LITTLE CLAY CART 131

13 A NAT AKA : RAMA'S LATER HISTORY

Index 193

5 Sanskrit Drama and Indian Thought

THE POETIC drama of India during the period defined in the West by the first Christian millennium would be better understood if one of its major qualities had not been habitually overlooked in Western criticism and in the East presumably at first taken for granted and later allowed to rest largely unnoted. This is best described as "equilibrium," a balance achieved by opposing forces found to the aesthetic imagination to be in harmony and not in collision. This signifies in the general scheme of the play that the' action is neither .progression nor montage nor marked by either the rise or -fall of excitement but by a paradoxical poise that customarily takes the form of circular motion ending close to the point of its beginning. It appears further through elaboration of detail in a symmetry achieved with sharp juxtapositions. However bold the contrasts or conflicts, they are never restless; they operate on a radically different dyna- mics from those in Western drama. Indian drama suggests the smooth revolution of wheels, Western drama, a mounting progress of the dramatic vehicle to a destination greatly unlike its beginning. Movement and contrast, the essence of dramatic form, are, indeed, conspicuous in the great drama of all peoples, for drama is essen- tially action and contention. But the treatment of these basic qualities differs vastly according to the philosophy and tempera- ment of different civilizations. The Indian stage is so deeply com- mitted to the profound cultivation of its own form , which in turn reflects a formula for life itself, that it dispenses with many attri- butes held at various times essential to the serious drama of the West, as characterization, naturalism, heroic accomplishments by exertion of the will, and sharp effects of climax and surprise. Time is conceived in Western drama as a forward-moving vista, as if

Sanskrit Drama and Indian Tho ugh

viewed from a moving plane, whereas in the Eastern drama it resembles a dome continuously visible though pre-eminently ex- pansive.

The simplest and by no means least revealing mode of expressing the contrast is to note that the Western stage in its traditional comedy and tragedy deals typically in narratives that terminate in marriage or in death, recording either a wooing or a plot ending in mortality, while the Eastern stage deals in narratives that hinge on separation and reunion. Its typical focus is not upon wooing but upon the family. It celebr.ates not courtship but social stability. The lost are found, the generations bound together; the stories echo the seasonal and cyclical myths. The contrasts resemble those in the procession of the year, a circular dance of months and days. The play is not a river ending in the sea, either in mystical union with God nor in fulfillment of human ambition. Rather, it is a celebration of cosmic poise, a highly formal and unmistakably aesthetic projection of life idealistically conceived. Western drama when most eminently serious is heroic , a celebration of action strong- ly propelled by volition; Eastern drama when equally serious is idealistic a~ a meditation resolved in peace, possibly presenting a mirror of great calamity and suffering but of disasters overcome by the restoration of normal and harmonious relations, a sentiment of repose overpowering the storm. Thus Indian drama is never tragic in the Western sense of the word nor is it in its lighter modes hilariously comic or Aristophanic. Much as it dwells upon the emotions and shuns violent dialectics or dialectics in any form , it avoids the exuberance typical of Western theatres. It has neither the dialectical exuberance of Bernard Shaw nor the emotional indulgence of Federico Garcia-Lorca.

Equilibrium is an aesthetic or possibly a spiritual ideat not a logical nor an ethical conception. There can be no problem plays in the Indian theatre, for there is basically only one problem, the celebration of poise. Great scope remains for the playwright's ingenuity and intelligence in achieving the balance of elements and parts but little or no room for moral strife. Forces morally opposed face each other as in a tournament or game. Possibly contrary to a superficial, a priori view, no Aristotelian ethical doctrine to the effect that extremes are bad and the mean is good is stated or implied. Instead, the hero may go to the utmost limits of ecstacy or grief and such are assumed entirely normal, as in

The Classical Drama of India

William Blake's celebrated apology for emotional unrestraint. But these extremes must somehow balance each other with a balance paradoxically but pragmatically resulting through aesthetic terms in a cancellation of violence itself.

Partly as corollary to this balance is the unmistakably aesthetic conception that emotions are not romantically or sentimentally expressed and that neither actor nor audience experiences the emotions of the play to be those of real life . Indian criticism is explicit on this point and the virtuosity of the equilibrium, which in Indian eyes constitutes dramatic beauty and the very core of drama itself, precludes the familiar Western outlook. Even per- formances of Indian plays themselves in the West have frequently shown obliviousness to this outstanding aspect of the sophis- ticated Indian theatre. The plays are dedicated, as the introduc- tory and concluding prayers show, to Siva, patron of music, art, and dance, who in the well-known image balances himself upon one foot while dancing in a ring formed by a fiery serpent, whose head consumes its tail. One ear-ring is masculine, the other, femi- nine. He is god of destruction and rebirth, of continual, unfailing movement within the magic circle of immovability, the very deity of spiritual equilibrium.

Some further difficulties in interpretation arise from a deceptive predisposition to suppose Sanskrit drama in some way broadly representative or typical of Hindu culture. Although as we shall presently see, unmistakably the offspring of this culture, it is no more typical of it than Elizabethan drama is typical of Elizabethan thought. In this connection it is helpful to recall that, from causes neither altogether clear nor dark, the world of Elizabethan drama is very unlike the general world-outlook represented by Elizabethan literature as a whole or even by the Elizabethan dramatists them- selves when writing for other media than the stage. Thus while Shakespeare's sonnets at times echo his plays verbally, they are really very unlike them, even in point of language, and his two longish narrative poems come by no means close to his great plays, though one of them may be read as a preliminary exercise for the rhetoric of his earliest dramas . Broadly examined, Indian litera- ture and culture likewise present enormous diversities and the most glaring contradictions. There are many religions and schools of philosophy, many levels of culture, much primitivism, much urbanity, much worldliness, much other-worldliness, four castes

Sanskrit Drama and Indian Thought

and many centuries to be considered. Some Indian traditions have obviously persisted longer than others. The tradition in drama described in these pages is really nameless; it is only roughly associated with the Sanskrit tongue, for much that is fundamental in it holds true also for plays extending geographically from the languages of Tibet to the Tamil of Southern India. Yet a main stem persisted, by the most conservative estimate from about 200 to goo A.D.-we cannot be sure of the dates, especially where origins are concerned. The great drama seems always to have owed much of its genius to court cultures. With an enormous indebtedness to music and dancing, out of which it may well have grown, it reached an outlook more purely aesthetic than that of virtually any other branch of Hindu expression, in this respect also comparable to the Elizabethan theatre in the total picture of Elizabethan cultural life. It clearly reflects both the typical folk- lore and philosophy, the manners and religions, of its native land. But it had its own unique accomplishment as well as its own pecu- liar apologists, as in several important treatises on the theory and practice of the stage.

The accomplishment is so unlike any to be found in the West, that at least perceptible aid is supplied for Western readers when passages in some degree related to the philosophy of the Hindu theatre are recalled from important religious, philosophical, and speculative writings. From their native culture the dramatists naturally picked up valuable threads that must profitably be associated with them. The myths, largely derived from the M ahii- bhiirata and the Ramayana, are reworked until they assume quite new aspects, much as Shakespeare reworked his sources in Plutarch and Holinshed. The religious and philosophical statements are more explicit in their bearing on the theory of equilibrium than are the stories; a few of the former suggesting this theory may be recalled.

The conception is approached in the Isa Upanishad .'

Unmoving, the One is swifter than the mind, The sense-powers reaching not It, speeding on before. Past others running, This goes standing. In it Matarisvan places action.

It moves. It moves not. It is far, and It is near.

The Classical Drama of India

It is within all this, And It is outside of all this . ...

Into blind darkness enter they That worship ignorance; Into darkness greater than that, as it were, they That delight in knowledge.

Knowledge and non-knowledge- He who this pair conjointly knows, With non-knowledge passing over death, With knowledge wins the immortal.

Into blind darkness enter they Who worship non-becoming. Into darkness greater than that, as it were, they Who delight in becoming ....

Becoming and destruction- He who this pair conjointly knows, With destruction passing over death, With becoming wins the immortal.

That most seminal work, the Bhagvad Gita, contains these statements:

He whom the world fears, who fears not the world, free from exaltation, anguish, fear , disquiet, such a one is beloved of Me.

Who exults not nor hates, nor grieves nor longs, renouncing fortune and misfortune, who is thus full of love is beloved of Me.

Equal to foe and friend , equal in honor and dishonor, equal in cold and heat, weal and woe, from attachment altogether free.

Balanced in blame and praise, full of silence, content with whatever may befall, seeking no home here, steadfast-minded, full of love, this man is beloved of Me.

The Majjhima-Nikaya (Sutta 63) contains this suggestive passage:

I have not elucidated, Maluiikyaputta, that the world is eternal; I have not elucidated that the world is not eternal; I have not elucidated that the world is finite; I have not elucidated that the world is infinite; I have not elucidated that the soul and

Sanskrit Drama and I ndian Thought

body are identical; I have not elucidated that the soul is one thing and the body another; I have not elucidated that the saint exists after death; I have not elucidated that the saint does not exist after death; I have not elucidated that the saint neither exists nor does not exist after death.

In a famous passage of the Samyutta-Nikaya concerning "the Middle Doctrine" we read:

That things have being, 0 Kaccana, constitutes one extreme of doctrine; that things have no being is the other extreme. These extremes, 0 Kaccana, have been avoided by the Tathagata, and it is a middle doctrine he teaches:

On ignorance depends karma; On Karma depends consciousness; On consciousness depend name and form ; On name and form depend the six organs of sense ; On the six organs of sense depends contact; On contact depends attachment; On attachment depends existence; On existence depends birth; On birth depend old age and death, sorrow, lamentation, misery,

grief, and despair. Thus does this entire aggregation of misery arise.

But on the complete fading out of cessation of ignorance ceases karma:

On the cessation of karma ceases consciousness; On the cessation of consciousness cease name and form· , On the cessation of name and form cease the six organs of sense; On the cessation of the six organs of sense ceases contact; On the cessation of contact ceases sensation; On the cessation of sensation ceases attachment; On the cessation of attachment ceases existence; On the cessation of existence ceases birth; On the cessation of birth cease old age and death, lamentation,

misery, grief, and despair. Thus does this entire aggregation of misery cease.

The Classical Drama of India

Such passages as these , and there are many, indicate both the spirit and essential form and rhetoric of the Sanskrit theatre.

The surprise which may at first be felt on realizing how much in Sanskrit drama is elucidated by the theory of equilibrium and yet how little it is discussed in the extensive and highly sophisticated critical works produced in India itself should not embarrass the validity of the view. Two civilizations differ in ways that neither realizes fully until they have existed for a considerable time side by side. Moreover, in any culture there is always much that is so completely native as to be taken almost entirely for granted. The Greeks scarcely realized the uniqueness of their emphasis upon logical thinking nor the Greek dramatists their further emphasis upon emotional tension strung lengthwise on the coordinate of time. The Sanskrit dramatists, it seems, hardly realized to what a pro- nounced degree they relied upon precisely the opposite outlooks, discovering spiritual integration between apparent and logical antinomies, and finding peace that flows from contemplation to be the unifying element even in their narrative and dramatic art. The dynamics of the Western stage draw the breath in, creating the tension of flexed muscles; the dynamics of the Indian stage let the breath out, creating relaxation and repose. The idealism of the one is heroic, that of the other, contemplative. In each case the work of art is organic, developed from a single seed; in each case we are confronted with the spectacle of opposing forces. The organisms themselves, however, differ as widely as day from night. Each presumes its own way of thinking and feeling. In each culture the critics justify the outlook known to them and define that tech- nique as the best which most fully realizes the native ideals. But it is the technique that is clearly stated rather than the outlook, as the aesthetics of Aristotle or Cicero, of Bharata or Sagaranandin, clearly show. It is only when one system is confronted with the other that certain of the most deeply ingrained properties of each become clearly apparent.

Although the purpose of this brief chapter is to state the principle of equilibrium, not to trace its application at large or to describe the multiplicity of its manifestations, a few examples showing its application will naturally be demanded. The circular motion of separation and return must, however, be conspicuous on even a rapid inspection of the most celebrated Sanskrit plays. To begin with the earliest playwright to whom any considerable number

Sanskrit Drama and Indian Thought

of works has been ascribed, Bhasa's masterpiece, The Vision of Viisavadattii, describes the supposed death of a beloved queen and her final recovery of the husband convinced that he has lost her. The Minister's Vows, another of Bhasa's notable plays, repeats much the same theme. The "happy ending" of almost all Sanskrit plays operates in this behalf, for where a story falls within the mould of tragicomedy, the action will naturally pass from felicity to misfortune and back to felicity again. Sanskrit criticism itself states that the end of the play should in some way recapitulate its beginning. Bhasa treats the epics that have the same patterns, as the Riimiiyana so conspicuously shows. Rama loses Sit a twice, first when she is abducted by Ravana and second when she is exiled by Rama himself at the malicious instigation of "the populace". On each occasion she is, of course, recovered. These are themes in four outstanding plays, two by Bhasa, two, considerably more powerful, by Bhavabhiiti.

Shakuntala and her lover are first happy and devoted to each other, then the dark eclipse of forgetfulness sets in, and at last their reunion is achieved. Puriiravas loses Urvad, only to find her once more. In Barsa's Niigiinanda the lovers are separated by a gulf deep as death itself, only to be united, proving, to cite an apho- rism in another play, Riima's Later History, that misery and joy are encompassed within the same dominion. What is most remarkable, even in a political play, as M1tdriiriiksasa, where the estrangement is not between two lovers but between two ministers of state, the end of the play depicts their reconciliation, peace being restored by public unity.

The larger part of the significance of the theory of equilibrium cannot, however, be realized until the detailed working out of a single play is examined. This is most clearly seen in the most gigantic of Sanskrit dramas, The Little Clay Cart, a work of trans- cendent virtuosity and choreography. Here every item has its counterpart, though the themes are themselves frequently so complex and subtly interwoven as to escape instantaneous recogni- tion. We presumably experience the integrity of the form before realizing its causes and in fact the symmetry will exhaust the most intense scrutiny. Scene balances scene, as the two perigrinations of Vasantasena through the streets, once when pursued by the villain, once when a thunderstorm pursues her as she is in quest of her lover, on each occasion be5ng accompanied by a vita. On each

The Classical Drama of India

occasion, too, there is a trio of voices speaking with dialectical peculiarities. The balance of flesh and spirit is evoked in .the single role of the gambler turned ascetic. The theme of the unlucky but faithful servant, itself a foil to the ultimately lucky Charudatta, is developed in the story of an impotent but valiant servant who is twice beaten because of loyalty, first to the heroine, second to the hero; on each occasion he declares that he has done all he pos- sibly can. In the important character of Sarvilaka, thievery and idealism are contrasted with exquisite humor. Charudatta's poverty is contrasted with Vasantasena's opulence, his dilapida- ted house with her thriving palace. One gharri is set off against another, a clay cart is the foil to a golden cart, every incident and almost every speech is a foil to another. The repetition of $tanzas under the varying circumstances, the balance of design, for example, in the processional scenes at the four gates of the city, the near-deaths of hero and heroine, each invoking the name of the other, all, even in point of the most minute verbal parallels, support the underlying theory of equipoise. Charudatta was once rich; he falls into poverty; he recovers his riches with interest. In the language of William Blake, who alone among English poets reite- rates all the essentials in the cyclic pattern of Hindu thought, even Vasantasena was doubtless both virginal and sexually honest once and is in the end elevated to what is deemed the highest moral honour of woman, matrimony. In short, The Little Clay Cart preserves the cyclic theme common to almost all serious Sanskrit drama but does so less spectacularly than in the unsurpassed subtlety and consistency with which it develops the factor of equilibrium within the multiple threads weaving its garment as a whole.

The Tamil drama,Arichandra, the Tibetan drama, Tchrimekundan, are both, like The Book of Job, stories of tribulation surrounded by happiness. The hero in each case falls from his splendor only to be restored to it. With much less subtlety than the Sanskrit plays themselves and more indebtedness to the bare increment of folklore, these justly illustrious works follow the same basic pattern as the main stem of the serious Indian theatre.

Equilibrium, as the Indian drama reveals it, is exemplified, then, both in the conception of the plots and, what is considerably more important, in the execution of detail. It is followed, in other words, in the dramatic narratives and in the details of style and execution. 5agaranandin declares the highest type of play to be that employing

Sanskrit Drama and Indian Thought

the maximum number of dialects and styles practically available,. that is, the play containing the largest number of conflicting elements- to be reconciled, for Sagaranandin himself uses the image of the whole work as developed from a single seed. The conflicts, as analysis reveals, are harmonized by playing opposites off against each other, as summer-winter, light-dark, right-left, war-peace, or whatever the most available contrasts may be. The essence of aesthetic success is conceived as the poise between opposites, somewhat, it may be observed, as in the paradoxes of Kier- kigaard. This is at once the fonn of art and the fonnula of life, according with the choreography of man's world and that of the stars. For this reason, too, the plays are so vital. Their fonn and meaning, body and soul, are one. Art has seldom served an ideal purpose more fully. Yet the morality is fundamentally aesthetic. Morality may well be in the subject-matter of the plays but their delightfulness springs directly from their fonn as art.