The voice in China is trained to much flexibility by the exigencies of the language, for the Chinese is in one sense, the most musical of languages, as a word acquires half a dozen different significations according to the pitch of voice, or inflection with which it is pronounced.

The number of different words in the whole Chinese tongue does not exceed three hundred and fifty; all the additional ones, are simply variations of these by lowering, or raising the voice. This leads the foreigner into endless complications and misunderstandings; for example, the word tchu pronounced clearly with the vowel of medium length, means “master,” but by extending the vowel a trifle it signifies “hog;” it also means “column,” and “cookery.” The syllable “po” has eleven different meanings—“glass,” “boil,” “captive,” “prepare,” etc., each of which must be pronounced with a different pitch and inflection.[117] Among the original words are some which decidedly are taken from nature, such as “tchung,”—“bell,” “miaou,”—“cat,” but these are very few.

Some authors have endeavored to show from these facts, that the Chinese is in all respects a musical language, but this can hardly be conceded, for the inflections spoken of, are so slight as to escape the European ear, which surely would not be the case if they were really musical notes, since we have seen that Father Pereira, in the last century, was able to note down at first hearing, and imitate any Chinese song. The people in conversation give the voice a flute-like sound, but this has scarcely arisen from any special musical quality in the language itself.

CHAPTER XIII.
CHINESE MUSICAL COMPOSITIONS AND CEREMONIES.

The most ancient music with the Chinese as with all people, seems to have consisted of hymns to the Deity, rendering thanks to Him for the benefits given to man in the various departments of labor. These were divided according to the class which used them, into agricultural, military, piscatorial, etc. Very soon after these, there came into existence that reverential ceremony in memory of the ancestors, which is so characteristically Chinese, and which became, of all their festivals, the most important and the most musical.

This ceremonial as conducted by the emperor is as follows. In the vestibule of the hall are retainers who bear a particular kind of standards, which show that the coming of the sovereign is expected. Here also are seen bells, drums, and musicians, as well as officers of the guards, all standing in symmetrical figure, and motionless in their position. On entering the hall one sees, right and left, the performers on the cheng and king, and the minor instruments, all arranged in their proper order. In the middle are placed the dancers, in uniform and each holding in hand the instrument which they are to use in their evolutions. Near the end are placed the players of the che and kin as well as the performers on the style of drum called the po-sou, and the singers. Finally, at the lower end of the hall are seen the representations of the ancestors themselves, either in the form of portraits, or of simple tablets bearing the name of each. Before these is a table on which stand flowers and libations. Each performer and instrument is placed in an allotted position. For example, the bell is at the south-west, the cheng at the north-west, the drum at the south-east, the flute at the north-east, and the table at the south; and this arrangement is never departed from.

When the signal announcing the approach of the emperor is heard, the singers and musicians, slowly and with great majesty, begin the hymn of honor, while the emperor, with stately and dignified tread, advances to the table at the south of the hall.[118] It is a moment of holy awe (somewhat akin to the instant when the Host is elevated in Catholic churches) for the spirits of the departed are supposed at this time to come down from Heaven to their descendants. We give here an English paraphrase of the words of part of this hymn, which we have translated from the version of Father Amiot.

Hymn to the Ancestors.[119]

In giving this, necessarily weak, translation of the opening part of the hymn, we have endeavored to preserve the short Iambics of the Chinese version; but in the Chinese there are only eight lines to the first division, therefore four lines of the translation correspond to one of the original. After the chorus has sung as far as this, which is only an exordium, or manner of worthily preparing for the following exercises, the emperor prostrates himself three times, touching his forehead to the earth each time, and then taking the libations, offers them up to the departed: meanwhile the chorus sing the second part of the hymn, still in the name of the emperor.[120] In this he again alludes per chorus, to his noble descent, and thanks them for leaving their abode of bliss to visit him, and humbly prostrated, begs to render homage to them, and entreats that they will accept the libations offered, as a testimonial of profound respect and perfect love.[121] After offering these, the emperor prostrates himself nine times to the earth, and then resumes his position in front of the table, while the chorus sing the third part of the hymn. During this final division of the music, the spirits which descended at the first part are supposed to be reascending to Heaven. In the third part the emperor (still by proxy) states how mean and pitiful he feels, after such illustrious predecessors, and tells how heavy the burdens of state are to him, and thanks his ancestors for their spiritual assistance. He concludes with the statement that he can do very little to testify his appreciation of all their benefits, but what he is able to do he has done.

“Three times with respect, have I offered the triple sacrifice; not being able to do more, my vows are satisfied.” The hymn being finished, the emperor retires with his ministers and cortege in the same order in which they entered the hall. The music continues until he has reached his own apartments. Dancers participate in this ceremony and are sumptuously clad and really assume a role of much importance. As with the ancient Greeks and Romans, they are not to be thought of as being jumpers or twirlers; they express by their motions the sentiments which actuate the emperor as he eulogizes his ancestors, expresses his own unworthiness, his gratitude, pride, and other emotions. The music of this august ceremonial, is entirely written in whole notes, without any change of rhythm whatever. It is rather monotonous than distressing to our ears.

This is not the case with other vocal compositions of the Chinese; nearly all travellers agree in saying that their music, in this branch especially, resembles far more the cries of the nocturnal cat than the human voice. The composers seem to have an aversion to progression by degrees, in their songs, and a decided penchant for long skips. We do not intend a slur upon the Scotch music when we say that there are points of resemblance between the Chinese music and the former. Some Chinese airs (given by Irwin and Barrow[122]) show this resemblance startlingly. Although the Chinese understand the division of the chromatic scale perfectly well, yet they never use it; five tones are all they ordinarily employ; these are

omitting even the semitone of our diatonic scale. Some of their most eminent theorists have maintained that the notes pienkoung (si) and pienche (mi) are as useless to music as a sixth finger would be to the hand.

It will be observed that the semitone progression is not used in China, and though known, is universally proscribed and avoided; it is this which occasions the peculiarities of Chinese music. On this subject we cannot refrain from re-quoting an article on Chinese music, which appeared in the “China Mail,” a Hong-Kong newspaper, in 1845.[123]

“One possessed of a musical ear, and at all conversant with the musical art, cannot fail, on his arrival in this country, to be struck with the peculiarities of what is esteemed music here. He notices at once, that the characteristics of western melody, are almost wholly wanting. Nearly every note seems out of place, and there is neither beginning, middle nor end, to the airs he listens to. Instead of a theme which is developed and embellished by the whole performance, he hears a hurry-skurry of notes, apparently flung together without link or affinity; and even the confusion of sounds to make it worse, instead of finishing in a quiescing cadence, passes beyond what is looked for as the last note, and sometimes ends with what we should call a flatted keynote, leaving the listeners in a most uncomfortable state of suspense and uncertainty as to what may follow. For my own part, I have not been able as yet to discover whether the Chinese recognise such a thing as a keynote among the parts of song, or whether their composers begin, continue, and end their tunes ad libitum.”

We have inserted the above that the reader may judge how strongly the music distresses the musical European at first hearing; but it is also not to be forgotten that the Eastern, (Hindoo and Arabian) music had a similar effect upon persons who a year later were obliged to acknowledge that they had begun to find beauty, and take pleasure in it.

Of other court musical ceremonies, the emperor’s birthday, the harvest sacrifice, the feast of agriculture, and the fifteenth day of the first moon, are the most important. The first occasion is described by Lord Macartney, who heard it on the 17th of September, 1793. It began with a slow majestic sound of deep-toned bells and muffled drums, in the distance. This impressive music was occasionally interrupted by sudden pauses; with equal suddenness the whole force of singers and instrumentalists would burst out with their utmost strength, while the entire court bowed their faces to the earth as often as the refrain was sung:—“Bow down your heads ye inhabitants of the earth, bow down your heads before the great Kien-long.”

The emperor was not visible during these ceremonies.

Among the secular pieces, collected by Amiot, is one which demands especial notice; it is an instrumental representation of a battle. It will be recollected that fifty years ago, many popular European compositions took this shape. “The battle of Navarino,” “the battle of Prague,” “Waterloo,” etc., were the out-crops of this mania: the Chinese certainly have better instruments than we had, wherewith to represent the din of combat.

In the accompaniment of songs, the Chinese seem to stand, as regards their harmony, about where Europe stood in the middle ages, for they use as sole and only harmony, when playing on the kin, a succession of fourths and fifths.[124]

The constant use of instruments of percussion, in slow and monotonous songs, is one of the most tiresome institutions of the Chinese music; almost all the tunes are taken at an andante or adagio pace, and it is but just to say, that the Chinese chiefly dislike European music because it is often played quickly.

“To what purpose” they ask, “should one dance and hurry in this manner, and how can such things penetrate to the soul? With us” they add proudly, “all is done calmly, and without precipitation.[125]”

It must be acknowledged, that the Chinese love, and take pride in music, that is, in their own kind. In every great state ceremony, in theatres, in religion, it everywhere plays the leading role.

One of the nine tribunals which have charge of the general affairs of the empire, is charged with the care of music, rites, and ceremonies; and the mandarins of music are considered of much higher rank than the mandarins of mathematics, and have their college in the enclosure of the imperial palace.

The fondness for the art is apparent in all classes, and music is used on almost every occasion of festivity, high or low. The streets of the cities are full of peripatetic musicians, who earn their living by catering to the general public, somewhat as the organ grinders do with us.

The feast of lanterns is the greatest of all popular Chinese festivals; it takes place on the fifteenth day of the first moon, and corresponds to a New Year’s feast. On this occasion every part of the immense cities of the empire glows with the light of innumerable lanterns, while fire-works and decorations are seen on all sides. In the streets are seen large Lantern Theatres, that is to say, edifices made of paper; on the inside, which is brightly illuminated, is a stage whereon actors and singers give plays and concerts. Another great festival, where music plays a leading part, takes place on the fifteenth day of the eighth moon. On this evening the Chinese imagine that a hare is seen in the moon, and to the sound of many instruments, the entire population turn out to look at it. It is customary for friends to send each other cakes, on which the figure of a hare is moulded, in sugar. Concerts are an important accessory to this festival with both rich and poor; the former make every effort to secure the best singers and performers for their entertainment on this holiday; the latter, not being able to have the more delicate instruments content themselves with a clatter of basins, pots and frying-pans, and make with these a sort of burlesque concert.

At each full moon there takes place a festival in which gongs and cannons rather than musical instruments are heard. Besides these festivals which are celebrated throughout the empire, there are also local ones, which are numberless. The richest class generally keep their private troupe of musicians, whom they own almost as slaves. Often also they educate young children of both sexes, in the musical art with the utmost care, in order that when grown up they may swell the ranks of their musical retinue. Among these are often special artists whom they will not allow to appear on ordinary occasions, but reserve to perform before their own family, or intimate friends to whom they wish to show especial honor; at such times, the ordinary performers are sent away.

Among the strolling musicians, there are many who make their living by going to private festivals of the middle classes, such as weddings, birthdays, and other rejoicings, even when uninvited; these are similar to our ball room musicians, but also bear some resemblance to the itinerant performers of early Eastern nations. In Poland there still exists a similar class.

For the poorer class, there are also, numerous blind musicians, who travel from house to house, sometimes in bands, sometimes alone. We have already compared these to our own organ-grinders, but they differ from them in one particular; they do not rely so much upon making music indiscriminately, but go, with much tact, to those places where their services are likely to be required.

In China the custom of celebrating the birthday anniversary is universal; these wandering minstrels recollect the date of the birth of each individual for miles around, with unerring exactness, and when a birthday fete occurs in any family, they may calculate with some degree of certainty that the music will come without being sent for.

There are other occasions, where these shrewd disciples of the muses can turn an honest penny; if a skillful physician has saved the life of the wife or child of some rich man no higher compliment can be given to him (besides his fee) by the grateful nabob, than to invite him to a great feast, and to send an escort of eight musicians to convey him thither, besides bringing him numerous presents.

Music is employed at funerals, but the friends of the deceased, are not allowed to perform it; for months after, etiquette forbids their touching any musical instruments.

The mourning for a parent, or grandparent is very strict and protracted. In China filial love and obedience are the virtues most insisted upon. If the descendants give forth any musical sounds at all it is only to howl dismally a chant respecting the virtues of the defunct; there are many of these compositions, or “lamentations” in existence, of which the poetry is by no means despicable. When the funeral ceremony is taking place, some trumpets and a drum placed at the door, announce the arrival of visitors who come with their condolences to the afflicted family. After the body is buried with the ancestors, the bonzes, (Chinese priests) chant the office of the dead, for nine days, and in the procession itself drums, trumpets, tam tams, flutes, etc., play a discordant dirge.

We have already mentioned the wooden fish suspended at the tent door of military commanders to summon them to audiences concerning public and private affairs. Mandarins have, in like manner, a drum in the outer hall of their palaces, by means of which they can be summoned to give audience to any applicant; they are obliged to give immediate attention to the complaint of any person beating the drum, but woe to the audacious drummer who does not have some very especial wrong to complain of; he is immediately soundly bastinadoed.

At eclipses of the moon, the Chinese use their musical instruments in a purposely hideous manner. This is done to frighten away the dragon which is supposed to be eating up the orb of night. Instruments of percussion are chiefly used on this occasion. The same instruments (i. e. gongs, drums, trumpets and tam-tams) are used to aid the marching of the army.

The musical language such as we use in directing the movements of cavalry and artillery, is much more extended, though differently used in China; such musical signals are used in commanding civil as well as military personages. Various trades have their especial songs also, which they sing at their work.

But the music of China, although extending into every department of social and official life, is totally incapable of any advancement. Musical martinets are continually exclaiming against the changes in style of composition, which innovators are constantly introducing into our art,[126] but it is these changes which give the surest signs of real life and intrinsic merit to modern music.

In China, precisely as formerly in ancient Egypt, no such changes are possible; the music for each and every event is as carefully mapped out and adhered to, as is the cut of the garments, or the exchange of civilities among this precise people.[127]

If ever change takes place in their musical system it will assuredly be a gravitation towards the European, as they have in a certain measure a comprehension, theoretically at least, of our system of semi-tones, but could by no means conceive of, and accurately produce the third and quarter tones of Indian music. We have already related the ineffectual movement towards western style, made in the last century; during the embassy of 1793, Macartney observed many indications of inclination for our system, such as the use of the violin,[128] the notation of music upon ruled paper, and interest in the band concerts given at his rooms each evening. He also found in the emperor’s palace at Yuen min-yuen, an English musical clock, made by Geo. Clarke, Leadenhall Street, London, which played many selections from the “Beggar’s Opera.”[129] It is certainly not too venturesome to predict, in spite of the jarring of their music upon us, that they may yet develop a taste for some of the coarser branches of ours.

CHAPTER XVI.
THE CHINESE THEATRE AND DANCES.

Although the Chinese are passionately fond of plays, yet they do not possess a good fixed theatre in their chief cities; for those edifices which are regularly used for this purpose are never of a good class, and many of them are even considered disreputable. The cream of the theatrical troupes are reserved for private entertainments; when a number of people of the middle class desire a comedy, they club together and engage a troupe. The upper classes, as already stated, have always their private comedy company. They have also their private halls for dramatic representations.

The Chinese, have like ourselves, Comedies, Tragedies, Farces, Ballets, etc., and the music attached to them is always of the style of the play. There is an excellent description of the ceremonies and social etiquette used at a private dramatic entertainment, given by Du Halde.[130] He says, ... “It was then, four or five of the principal comedians were seen entering the hall, in rich costumes; they made a profound bow all together, and struck the earth four times with their forehead.... They arose and their chief addressing one of the principal guests, presented to him a book composed of long tablets, on which were written, in golden letters, the names of fifty or sixty comedies, which they knew by heart, and any of which they were ready to perform on the spot if desired; from this book they begged the guest to make a choice. The guest excused himself and handed the volume politely to a second guest, with a sign of invitation; the second guest passed it to the third with the same ceremonies, the third to the fourth, etc. All excused themselves, and finally the book was returned to the comedian, who yielded at last, opened the book, and ran his eye over the list a moment, and then decided upon a comedy which he thought would prove agreeable to all the company. Should there be any inconvenience in producing any particular play, the comedian-in-chief is expected to announce it; one of these inconveniences would be, for example, that one of the chief characters of the play bore a name similar to that of one of the guests. After the choice the comedian shows to the guests the name of the play which he has chosen, and each one signifies by a nod of the head, his approval. The representation begins with some music which is essentially Chinese and noisy. It is performed with metal basins, drums, flutes, fifes, and trumpets. The play is often performed at a banquet, and after the guests have finished their meal, the comedians take their places at the table; after a short refreshment the guests are recalled and the play proceeded with, or a new farce is chosen and performed as dessert.”

Many of the plays are not destitute of poetry and plot. It may not be uninteresting to give a short sketch of the style of incidents woven into their plays by Chinese authors.

The following is an outline of the plot of a play performed before the English embassy, Lord Macartney’s, in the latter part of the last century; it was given in a private theatre, by a private troupe.

“An emperor of China and his empress are living in supreme felicity, when on a sudden his subjects revolt. A civil war ensues, battles are fought; and at last, the arch-rebel, who is a general of cavalry, overcomes his sovereign, kills him with his own hand, and routs the imperial army.

The captive empress then appears upon the stage, in all the agonies of despair, naturally resulting from the loss of her husband, and her dignity, as well as the apprehension of that of her honor. Whilst she is tearing her hair, and rending the skies with her complaints, the conqueror enters, approaches her with respect, addresses her in a gentle tone, soothes her sorrows with his compassion, talks of love and adoration, and like Richard the Third with Lady Anne, in Shakespeare, prevails, in less than half an hour, on the Chinese princess to dry up her tears, to forget her deceased consort, and to yield to a consoling wooer. The piece concludes with a wedding and a grand procession.”[131]

Engel, who quotes the above plot, well says[132] “how interesting would it be to the student of national music, to possess an exact notation of the music belonging to this scene ‘(the empress complaints)’ and to ascertain in what manner the intense emotions and vehement passions represented are expressed in the Chinese musical compositions.”

The above plot is curious in its Shakespearian resemblance, and seems to be a drama of the superior order, for Lord Macartney was shown the highest and best side of Chinese life and art; the comedies of the people are less refined and of broader touches. We give as companion piece to the above, a comedy plot which is a favorite one with Chinese authors as well as the public.

The emperor Vouti, having lost one of his wives, whom he tenderly loved, had recourse to a celebrated magician, who assured him that his spouse was not dead as supposed, for she had bought of him the elixir of immortality; she still existed, but lived chiefly in the moon from whence the magician promised he could cause her to descend as often as desired. The emperor caused to be erected, under the superintendence of the magician, a very high tower, to facilitate her descent; he also often assisted at the incantations of the wizard, but as the fair immortal did not respond, the imposter, fearing the anger of his royal master, invented a new stratagem to avert this unpleasant conclusion. He wrote upon a piece of silk a counterfeit letter from the dear defunct giving various pretended reasons as to why she could not return personally to the royal lover; this letter is given by the sorcerer to a cow, who is then led by him to the emperor to whom he confesses that some involuntary crime has, for the present, interrupted his intercourse and influence with the immortal beings, but that in the stomach of the cow he has perceived something; Vouti commands that the animal be opened on the spot, and the silken message is discovered; the magician is already enjoying his triumph when it is perceived that the characters of the communication are in his own handwriting. He is at once condemned to death, and the emperor thenceforth renounces magicians, immortal elixirs, etc., etc.[133]

It is well known that the Chinese often give, on the stage, a representation of the life of the hero of the play from early infancy (sometimes even from birth) to death, and these representations last weeks in their performance; every action being done deliberately; for example, if a performer smokes a pipe, he does not give a whiff or two and then go on with the action, but calmly and placidly smokes it out to the last puff.

Fairy spectacles, the Chinese also possess, in which Genii appear and disappear, as well as birds and beasts endowed with the power of speech. Their farces are of a much broader character, and often in these, the clownish, awkward character is a European or an American; they heartily enjoy all his mishaps, even his manner of lifting his hat and bowing, being held up to ridicule; it is very much the same kind of pleasure as we “western barbarians” enjoy in seeing such farces as “Ici on parle Francais” or “The Perplexed Dutchman,” where the habits of a Frenchman, and German, are the mirth-provoking element; or of a piece with the character of Sir Hugh Evans and Dr. Caius, in Shakespeare’s “Merry Wives of Windsor.”

There is another point of resemblance in Shakespeare, to the Chinese drama: his following of the life of Henry VI. so closely and extensively (through three parts) suggests the more extensive life-history-dramas of the celestial empire. But the Chinese also give the “outside barbarians” a thrust, au serieux; for in their plays the devil often appears, dressed as a European.

In the music of their dramas, the Chinese are decidedly Wagnerian, for not only do they use a great many loud instruments (chiefly of percussion) but they illustrate with them the action of the drama; when an actor enters into a combat at arms, the orchestra pound away at their instruments with redoubled vigor. The characters often sing long arias to the accompaniment of these voice-drowning instruments.[134] There is much spoken action as well as song in these dramas, which therefore approach more nearly to our vaudevilles than any thing else.

Choruses are few in Chinese pieces, but sometimes the air is sung by many voices, in order to emphasize it, and make it more plainly perceptible above the racket of the orchestra.

The Chinese have also many tragedies and comedies wherein no music whatever is employed. The actors in these, assuming the ordinary conversational tone.

Conjugal infelicity and infidelity, form a staple plot with these, and the same inappropriate and ludicrous entering into detail is apparent in them.[135]

Movable scenes are not used, and the most infantile devices are used when a rapid change is necessary; a general having to depart on a distant expedition, mounts a hobby horse, or even a cane, and using a small whip with one hand, imitates riding, (three or four times around the theatre being sufficient) and then, announcing that he has arrived at his destination, goes on with his speeches without any embarrassment. This is but one example of the many where the dramatists draw heavily upon the imagination of their audiences.

The actor on entering (in the play) begins by announcing his name and telling the audience why and wherefore he has come; this is done to simplify the following of the action, as in some dramas there are hosts of characters and one player often assumes many roles.

Such puerility is caused partly by the small size of the stages, which would not admit a host of performers, and partly by the fact that many of the characters in a Chinese play are comparatively unimportant, appearing once, and then vanishing forever; in fact at the end of some of the Chinese dramas, one is considerably mystified as to the fate of many of the characters, as the author, unlike the European and American dramatists, who make everybody (except the villain) happy in the last act, only deems it necessary to follow out closely the career of his hero and heroine, and they being once dead, the other characters are allowed to wind up in a very sudden and, to us, very unsatisfactory manner. The musical part of these dramas is often quite long, and whenever the actor desires to express much feeling, he falls into music. Sometimes it is introduced in a most unnatural manner; in one tragedy, a wife having murdered her husband is sentenced to be flayed alive; after the execution of the sentence, she returns to the stage wholly bereft of her skin, (this is depicted with true Chinese realistic effect, the body of the performer being painted in exact imitation of nature in such a hideous plight) and she then and there sings a song to excite the pity of the infernal spirits. The song is full of screeches and howls, and lasts half an hour.[136] Let us not be too hasty in smiling at such absurd stage effects; there is an opera still performed on our own stage, where an innocent Jewess is boiled in oil, as finale, and as to the inappropriateness of a long song, under such circumstances, there is a long chorus in a French opera of the last century, where the mayor of the village having fallen into the water, the anxious choristers sing for many minutes, that “he will he drowned unless he is speedily helped out;” decidedly we must not smile too broadly at the Chinese, as yet.

Sir John Barrow[137] speaks of the theatre, which he visited, as a mere “Shed of Bamboo.” He says: “In the farther division of the building, a party of comedians were engaged in the midst of an historical drama, when we entered; but on our being seated they broke off, and coming forward, made before us an obeisance of nine genuflexions and prostrations, after which they returned to their labors, keeping up an incessant noise and bustle during our stay. The heat of the day, the thermometer standing at eighty-one degrees, in the open air, and at least ten degrees higher in the building, the crowds that thronged to see the strangers [this was in 1792, when Europeans were great rarities in China] the horrible crash of the gongs, kettle drums, trumpets, and squalling flutes, were so stunning and oppressive that nothing but the novelty of the scene could possibly have detained us a moment.”

“The most entertaining, as well as the least noisy part of the theatrical exhibition, was a sort of interlude, performed by three young women, for the amusement it would seem of the principal actress, who sat as a spectator, in the dress and character of some ancient queen, whilst an old eunuch, very whimsically dressed, played his antic tricks like a scaramouch, or buffoon in a Harlequin entertainment.”

“The dialogue in this part, differed entirely from the querulous and nearly monotonous recitation of the Chinese, being light and comic, and occasionally interrupted by cheerful airs, which generally concluded with a chorus. These airs rude and unpolished as they were, appeared to be regular compositions, and were sung in exactly measured time. One in particular attracted our attention, whose slow, melancholy movement breathed the kind of plaintiveness so peculiar to the native airs of the Scotch, to which indeed it bore a close resemblance.” [We have before spoken of this resemblance, which proceeds from both scales, Chinese and Scotch, being pentatonic, or five toned.] “The voices of the women are shrill and warbling, but some of their cadences were not without melody. The instruments at each pause gave a few short flourishes, till the music gradually increased in loudness by the swelling and deafening gong. Knowing nothing of the language we were of course as ignorant of the subject as the majority of an English audience is at an Italian opera.” Thus speaks Barrow of his first impressions of a Chinese theatre, but he probably fell into two errors; the women, whom he mentions were in all likelihood, eunuchs; and the theatre itself, being public, was of inferior style to those private establishments which are the pride of the rich mandarin class.

It is singular, however, that the noise of the gong, tamtam, trumpet, etc., are inseparable from all Chinese dramatic performances: although the noise is deafening, and the voices of the actors are sometimes drowned in spite of their shouting themselves hoarse, yet this pandemonium only gives tranquil delight to the Chinese spectator whether he be of high or low class. It is so extraordinary a fact that physiologists and anatomists have endeavored to prove that the cause is due to a peculiar formation of the Chinese ear.[138]

Certain it is that the Chinese are so passionately fond of the drama, that they will sometimes pass many hours in succession in this noisy entertainment.

There is a tremendous number of comedians in China; most of them are purchased in early infancy by the chiefs of troupes, and by them trained in music, singing, declamation, pantomime, and dance. It is a species of slavery, not very unlike that of old Rome, but is not always life-long.

Some comedians, especially the chiefs, acquire large fortunes in the exercise of their calling, but the caste is so looked down upon, by the general public, and the facility of confiscating their fortune is so great, that they seldom attempt to leave the profession, or make any display of their wealth, lest it should be seized under any pretext by some mandarin, in which case (in spite of the theoretical justice of China) it would probably be beyond recovery.[139]

We may mention here, a peculiar mode of paying actors, in Cochin China.

The occasion described is an entertainment, the expenses of which were borne by the Quong, or provincial governor. An Englishman who was present, thus speaks of the affair,—“The Quong was there squatted on a raised platform in front of the actors, with a small drum before him, supported in a diagonal position, on which he would strike a tap every time any part of the performance pleased him; which was also a signal for his purse bearer to show a small string of about twenty cash to the actors. To my taste this spoiled the effect of the piece; for every time the cash fell among them, there would be a silence, and the next moment a scramble for the money; and it fell so frequently as almost to keep time with the discordant music of the orchestra.

The actors were engaged by the day, and in this manner received their payment, the amount of which depended upon the approbation of the Quong, and the number of times he encored them by tapping his drum. I could see that many of them paid far more attention to the drum than they did to their performance; though I suppose the amount thrown to them is equally divided. Sometimes the string on which the cash was tied, unluckily broke, and the money flew in all directions; by which some of the by-standers profited, not being honorable enough to hand it up to the poor actors.[140]

This was a public performance and took place in a large shed, before a numerous audience. Often the theatrical performances are allowed to take place in the Joss-houses or houses of worship, the bonzes or priests being wise enough not to offer any obstacles to a mode of amusement so thoroughly loved and appreciated by all the Chinese.

It is somewhat singular, and yet in keeping with the custom of the most ancient nations, that the Chinese should at the same time enjoy the drama so keenly, and despise the performers of it. The comedians are kept as thoroughly within their caste as musicians were in Egypt, four thousand years ago. Parents in China have almost unlimited power over their children (filial love and obedience is the highest of Chinese virtues,) they may sell them as slaves, or in some instances kill them, but they are not allowed to sell them to the troupes of strolling comedians, or to magicians. Any person so selling them is punished with one hundred blows of the bamboo, and any go-between or middle-man, in such transactions, receives a similar dose; any person of free parentage, marrying an actor or actress, is punished in the same manner, in spite of the precedent of several emperors. The crime of intimacy with actresses is punishable with sixty blows, but this is easily eluded, and the law seems to be obsolete. This punishment is not attended with much infamy; the bastinado is in fact the lightest of Chinese punishments. When the number of blows does not exceed twenty, there is no disgrace whatever attached to the infliction: it is then considered only a paternal chastisement; the emperor himself often orders this correction to be administered to high officials for slight faults, and afterwards treats them as if nothing had happened. After such paternal punishment is inflicted, the victim goes on his knees to the judge, bows his head three times to the earth, and thanks him for the care he has given to the education of his subject.[141]

It is significant that the “State Gazette” of Pekin, which will often enter into details concerning the death of a private soldier, and give eulogies to the military valor of the most humble, does not even mention the decease of the most brilliant and well-known comedian, no matter how much applause may have been accorded to him while living.

In such a country as China, it is easily imagined that there exists a large troupe of “comedians to the emperor.” These although not more superbly costumed than those of some rich mandarins, are clothed in a peculiar manner. Of course it would not be allowable to turn their backs upon the emperor, and yet often the action of the play, might demand that they turn around. This dilemma is overcome by allowing them to wear two masks, one on the face, the other at the back of their head, and thus, Janus-like, they can always face the emperor. Their clothing is in consequence different from that of ordinary actors, having two fronts and no back.[142]

The corps of singers, declaimers and musicians of all kinds belonging to the Imperial court, is of course very large.

The dances of China, are as with all Eastern or ancient nations, purely pantomimical, there are few pirouettes and skips as in our ballet. The names and subjects of some of the earlier dancers, will show this conclusively; “The labors of Agriculture,” “Joys of the Harvest,” “The fatigues of War,” “The pleasures of Peace,” “The skill of Hunting,” etc. These all show a primitive style of the art, and are not far removed from the dances we shall find in vogue among the most crude children of nature, such as the Australians, the Bushmen, or the Tasmanians. The Chinese possess (as did the Egyptians) a number of gymnastic performances similar to our clog, ballet, and comic dances, but these come a long way after the dance proper, in the estimation of the people; the word ou which signifies dance, does not apply to them. We cannot be surprised if from earliest times the regulation of the dance has been a matter of State legislation.

The ancient emperor was allowed eight dances, with eight performers to each, his full troupe containing sixty-four members. Kings of Provinces had six dances of six performers, thirty-six in all; and thus through all the upper ranks, literary doctors being allowed only two dances of two performers each. Only certain instruments were allowed as accompaniment, and the direction of the whole was always to be in charge of various musical doctors. There also existed dances which were called “little dances,” as they were taught to children at a tender age; the names of some of these are interesting; “the Dance of the Flag,” danced in honor of the spirits of earth and the harvests, so called because the dancers waved small banners; “The Dance of the Plumes,” in honor of the spirits of the four quarters of the world, in which the young dancers carried a plume of white feathers, attached to a short stick; “The Dance of the Foang-hoang,” which was danced to induce the assistance of the mysterious bird (already described) in times of drought, and in which the dancers held plumes of feathers of five colors; “the Dance of the Ox Tail,” in which each dancer swings an ox tail; “The Dance of Javelins,” where this weapon was brandished in honor of river and mountain spirits; and finally, “the Dance of Man,” in which the hands were quite free, no accessories being used.

The “Javelin Dance,” was not altogether pleasing to the great philosopher Confucius. He condemns it as being too war-like, and the gestures accompanying it, as too savage; as a whole he thought it liable to inspire cruel sentiments. He preferred the “Dance of the Plumes,” as containing all the chief elements of the “Javelin Dance” without tendency to cruelty. In the palace, the sons of the emperor only, were permitted to the “Dance of the Plumes.”

At the epoch, when these dances were at their zenith, the emperors had a peculiar way of showing by them their approbation, or condemnation of their viceroys. When the viceroy was presented at court, if his administration seemed good to the emperor, he was welcomed by numerous and lengthy dances; if, on the contrary his government seemed worthy of censure, the dances were both short and few.

The following were the customs observed in presenting them:—Long before the dance began, a drum was sounded “to dispel from the minds of the spectators any thoughts unsuited to the occasion.” On the arrival of the performers, they took three steps forward and put themselves in an attitude, calculated to impress the beholders; a sort of tableau vivant. The entrance was always accompanied with a slow movement of the music, which gradually augmented both in speed and volume, until the finale, when the climax having been reached, the music had attained a presto movement, and the dancers retired with precipitation in order that the interest might not have time to flag.

Sometimes the dancers carried a small shield with bell attached.

The Chinese sages deeply regret the loss of these ancient dances; (for like all excellent customs the modern writers claim that they were at their best in “the good old times,”) it seems that the ancient Chinese, endeavored in the dance, to reproduce an easily-comprehended allegory of the natural actions of men; the movements, gestures, attitudes, and evolutions, all to be natural and easily understood by the spectators. Since the days of Confucius, this simple style of dancing has fallen greatly to decay.

In those days many of the emperors of China studied and understood the art of dancing. History shows many such “Davids” (although not so well known as Israel’s royal dancer) in the dynasties of the empire. Autumn was the favorite season for the study of dancing, as the “feast of ancestors” takes place in the Spring, and the pupils were ready to exhibit their proficiency at that great event. The ancient practice of imperial dancing, was continued even as recently as 1719, when one of the sons of Kang-hi, of the age of twenty, performed before the emperor and his court. There are also mandarins whose duty it is to dance before the emperor; the pantomime of these is especially graceful and dignified. They advance slowly two by two, their limbs and bodies moving gently to the time of a tranquil music; they turn around without quitting their relative positions, and after a series of gestures made in perfect unison, and some symmetrical evolutions, they make the salute of honor, and retire. This dance seems to be only a formal expression of homage to the emperor. The dress of these officials is uniform, and elegant, fine silk capes, caps, etc., the only difference of costume being the buttons, with which the top of the caps are ornamented; the different color of these being indicative of greater or lesser rank. This corps of dancers is recruited from the wealthiest and greatest families of the empire.

In the dances, every detail is strictly systemized and observed; the very positions are calculated according to the points of the compass; thus one dancer is always placed at the north-west, another at the north-east, the entrance is to be made from a fixed cardinal point, the exit at another; all is rule and precision.

The number of dancers is not at present limited to that given above (sixty-four for the emperor, thirty-six for viceroys, etc.) as the ancient standard. At times of great festivity, the dancers of the Imperial court are reckoned by hundreds. Such grandes ballets, are almost always symmetrical and in concerted movements; but there are also solo dances; in these pas seuls the dancer often accompanies himself with both song and instrument. This proves how slow and majestic the motions must be.

In dances, females very often appear, but in private only. Mandarins frequently own female dancers and singers, whose performances are reserved for their own families. It is but rarely, and as a mark of especial honor, that they allow some intimate friend to view the dancing of these slaves.