Mrs. Bridges describes a similar religious dance in Ladāk thus:—
‘A group of grinning masks—lions’ heads and harlequins’ bodies—came down the steps, and whirling slowly round, retreated again into the gloom and came out dragon-headed. Then a band of skeletons, the skulls (masks) admirably painted, gnashing their hideous jaws and shaking their lanky limbs, rushed out into the sunshine and executed a real “Dance of Death” before us.’ (‘Travels,’ p. 101.)
Yet all true Buddhists are prohibited from dancing and masquerading ([p. 126] of this volume); just as Manu (II. 178, IV. 15, 212) prohibited Brāhmans from engaging in similar frivolities.
Then the religious dramas performed on some of the Buddhist festive days are not the least interesting examples of the present prevalent superstitions.
I witnessed part of a dramatic performance at a Burmese Theatre in Calcutta (during the Exhibition year), when the story of the Hindū Epic, called Rāmāyaṇa, and especially that portion of it which relates to the carrying off of Sītā by demons (see ‘Brāhmanism and Hindūism,’ p. 42, and ‘Indian Wisdom,’ p. 337), was dramatically represented. The theatre was a rude wooden enclosure open to the sky, with the exception of a portion roofed over for a band of musicians, whose noisy performances appeared to constitute an important element in the proceedings. The chief musician sat on the ground in the middle of a circular frame-work—about two or three feet high—hung round with drums of different sizes, which he struck with his hands, and occasionally tuned by the application of moist clay in larger or smaller lumps. In the centre of the open area of flat dusty soil which served for the stage, a big branch of a tree was stuck upright, possibly to represent the forest in which Rāma lived with his wife. Then the hero and heroine of the drama—Rāma and Sītā—kept up a tedious colloquy, interspersed with jokes, for hours. The former—who, be it remembered, was supposed to be a god—smoked a cigar all the while, and occasionally ejected saliva with perfect indifference to all appearances and to all laws of congruity, while every now and again Sītā, in spite of a tight dress, varied the monotony of the dialogue by executing a slow dance, characterized by strange contortions, twistings, and wrigglings of the limbs. Hideous masks were at intervals assumed by the actors, and, of course, by the demons who intervened at odd moments with much ludicrous gesticulation. The action of the play went on continuously for about ten days, during which period people came and went as they liked, and the last comers entered into the progress of the plot with as much interest as if they had witnessed the whole. There is never much originality of invention in these religious plays. The Indian heroic poems and the five hundred and fifty birth-stories (see [p. 63]) of the Buddha furnish the basis of all.
The religious dramas of Tibet are of a somewhat different character. The following description is founded on Dr. Schlagintweit’s account ([p. 233]), and on that of Mrs. Bridges in her interesting ‘Travels’ (John Murray, 1883, p. 130).
The dramatis personæ consist of three classes.—1. Tutelary deities or good genii, called Dragshed (Dragṡed), who ward off the assaults of evil demons; 2. Evil demons; 3. Men. The actors of each class are distinguished by their masks. The first class—that is the Dragsheds or good genii—wear masks of enormous size and terrific aspect[159]. The second class—that is the Evil demons—wear larger masks of a dark colour, and their garments are well padded to deaden the force of the blows showered upon them. The third class—that is the Men—wear the usual dress of human beings, and masks of a natural size and colour, while under their clothes they carry heavy wooden sticks, with which at times, during the progress of the drama, they belabour the demons. The gods also get well knocked about by the demons, much to the amusement of the spectators.
The drama is preceded by the recital of hymns and prayers and by noisy music. The Dragsheds occupy the centre, the men are on their right and the demons on their left. At short intervals the men and the demons execute slow dances, each group by itself. At last, an evil spirit and a man step forth. The evil spirit then tries, in a plausible speech, to tempt the man to violate some precept of morality, while other evil spirits approach and chime in. The man at first stands firm, but gradually gives way and is about to yield, when other men come forward and entreat him not to be seduced by the artful suggestions of the demons. He is then closely pressed by the two opposite parties, but in the end takes the advice of his human counsellors. Upon this all the men break out into praise of the Dragsheds, to whose presence and assistance they ascribe the victory. The Dragsheds now proceed to punish the evil demons. The leading Dragshed, who is distinguished by an unusually large yellow mask, advances against them surrounded by about a dozen followers. Other Dragsheds next rush out from the back-ground, shoot arrows, throw stones, and even fire with muskets upon the demons, while the men belabour them with their sticks, hitherto concealed under their clothes. The demons are routed, and run in every direction pursued by the good genii. The drama concludes by all the actors (men and demons included) singing hymns in honour of the victorious tutelary genii.
Among the spectators (at the performance witnessed by Mrs. Bridges at Leh) were six deities, represented by six Lāmas seated on a bench with umbrellas over their heads. They had incense swung before them by attendant priests.
This curious dramatic performance is paralleled in India by the Hindū drama called Prabodha-ćandrodaya, ‘Rise of the moon of true knowledge,’ in which we have Faith, Volition, Opinion, Imagination, Contemplation, Devotion, Quietude, Friendship, &c., on one side; Error, Self-conceit, Hypocrisy, Love, Passion, Anger, Avarice, on the other. The two sets of characters are, of course, opposed to each other, the object of the play being to show how the orthodox faith of the Hindūs became victorious over the erroneous doctrine of the Buddha—the Buddhists and other heretical sects being represented as adherents of the losing side.
Then—to take a parallel nearer home—we find similar religious dramas acted in England not so very long ago (about the time of Henry VIII). For example, in the old English morality play, called ‘Every-man,’ some of the dramatis personæ on the one side are—God, Death, Every-man, Fellowship, Kindred, Good-deeds, Knowledge, Confession, Beauty, Strength, Discretion; while on the other are personifications of the opposite qualities. Then, again, in ‘Lusty Juventus,’ we have a medley of Good Counsel, Knowledge, Satan, Hypocrisy, Fellowship, Abominable Living, God’s Merciful Promises.