scene. The ample space was thronged by a picturesque audience of turbaned Vrijbashees squatting on the floor. The Vrijmaeës in parti-coloured dresses sat beneath the cloisters. In the centre of the square was a raised dais, on each side of which stood boys in livery, holding two torches in the true Hindoo mode.…
The play had for theme the time-honoured divine intrigue of Radha and Krishna, relieved apparently by moments of boisterous low comedy:
High on the dais sat a lovely boy in superb female garb, but with a coronet on his head—personating the heroine. The other principal actor on the stage was Krishna, as a page; the performance struck as something novel—midway between an English play and an uproarious Bengalee Jatra. The play was lyrical in effect, as most Indian plays are, or were. The singers—deep modulated male voices or clear boyish trebles—were accompanied by cymbal or tabor, and sometimes by the murali or flute. There was harmony too in the dialogue, we are told; and it was a great pleasure to hear Krishna speak in melodious Vrij-buli—the language most probably of the ancient Yadas. Radha had an arch smile on her face, and Krishna a penitential visage.
Possibly Krishna's sad mien affected the play-goers, for we read that at the close the spectators sat silent, and burst forth in no plaudits or cries of Hurrybole! The writer ends his account
