Sakoontala | Page 6

of which the
'[S']akoontalá' is an example. It should consist of from five to ten Acts;
it should have a celebrated story for its plot; it should represent heroic
or godlike characters and good deeds; it should be written in an
elaborate style, and be full of noble sentiments. Moreover, it should be
composed like the end of a cow's tail; so that each of the Acts be
gradually shorter.
In India, as in Greece, scenic entertainments took place at religious
festivals, and on solemn public occasions. Kalidása's '[S']akoontalá'
seems to have been acted at the commencement of the summer

season--a period peculiarly sacred to Káma-deva, the Indian god of
love. We are told that it was enacted before an audience 'consisting
chiefly of men of education and discernment.' As the greater part of
every play was written in Sanskrit, which, although spoken by the
learned in every part of India even at the present day, was certainly not
the vernacular language of the country at the time when the Hindú
dramas were performed, few spectators would be present who were not
of the educated classes. This circumstance is in accordance with the
constitution of Hindú society, whereby the productions of literature as
well as the offices of state, were reserved for the privileged castes[6].
Every Sanskrit play opens with a prologue, or, to speak more correctly,
an introduction, designed to prepare the way for the entrance of the
_dramatis personæ_. The prologue commences with a benediction or
prayer (pronounced by a Bráhman, or if the stage-manager happened to
be of the Bráhmanical caste, by the manager himself), in which the poet
invokes the favour of the national deity in behalf of the audience. The
blessing is generally followed by a dialogue between the manager and
one or two of the actors, in which an account is given of the author of
the drama, a complimentary tribute is paid to the critical acumen of the
spectators, and such a reference is made to past occurrences or present
circumstances as may be necessary for the elucidation of the plot. At
the conclusion of the prologue, the manager, by some abrupt
exclamation, adroitly introduces one of the dramatic personages, and
the real performance commences.
The play, being thus opened, is carried forward in scenes and Acts;
each scene being marked by the entrance of one character and the exit
of another, as in the French drama. The _dramatis personæ_ were
divided into three classes--the inferior characters (nicha), who were
said to speak Prákrit in a monotonous accentless tone of voice
(anudáttoktyá); the middling (madhyama), and the superior (pradhána),
who were said to speak Sanskrit with accent, emphasis, and expression
(udáttoktyá). In general, the stage is never left vacant till the end of an
Act, nor does any change of locality take place until then. The
commencement of a new Act is often marked, like the commencement
of the piece, by an introductory monologue or dialogue spoken by one
or more of the _dramatis personæ_, and called Vishkambha or
Prave[S']aka. In this scene allusion is frequently made to events

supposed to have occurred in the interval of the Acts, and the audience
is the better prepared to take up the thread of the story, which is then
skilfully carried on to the concluding scene. The piece closes, as it
began, with a prayer for national plenty and prosperity, addressed to the
favourite deity, and spoken by one of the principal personages of the
drama.
Although, in the conduct of the plot, and the delineation of character,
Hindú dramatists show considerable skill, yet they do not appear to
have been remarkable for much fertility of invention. Love, according
to Hindú notions, is the subject of most of their dramas.
The hero, who is generally a king, and already the husband of a wife or
wives (for a wife or two more or less is no encumbrance in Indian
plays), is suddenly smitten with the charms of a lovely woman,
sometimes a nymph, or, as in the case of [S']akoontalá, the daughter of
a nymph by a mortal father. The heroine is required to be equally
impressible, and the first tender glance from the hero's eye reaches her
heart. With true feminine delicacy, however, she locks the secret of her
passion in her own breast, and by her coyness and reserve keeps her
lover for a long period in the agonies of suspense. The hero, being
reduced to a proper state of desperation, is harassed by other difficulties.
Either the celestial nature of the nymph is in the way of their union, or
he doubts the legality of the match, or he fears his own unworthiness,
or he is hampered by the angry jealousy of a previous wife. In short,
doubts, obstacles, and delays make great havoc