In most of the entertainments, of which examples have just been given, the music must necessarily partake of a dramatic character. Generally, the tunes are not selected at pleasure, but certain tunes belong to certain representations. The dramatic effect of the music depends, however, chiefly upon its execution, which naturally changes according to the action which it accompanies. Thus, if the actors represent a sentimental or heart-rending scene, their vocal effusions will naturally be in a subdued tone, and the sympathizing musicians will touch their instruments delicately and slowly. If, on the other hand, the actors represent some exciting or heart-stirring scene, they will naturally raise their voices, and the musicians will play louder and faster as a matter of course. In fact, when their pulse beats quicker, the rhythmical flow of their music, however rude and inartistic it may be, becomes more animated unpremeditatedly. Such is the most primitive condition, or the commencement of the development of dramatic music. Let us now examine it in a somewhat more advanced stage of cultivation.
The Javanese, who among the islanders of the Indian Archipelago are renowned for their skill in the dramatic art, generally use fabulous traditions from their own history, or Hindu legends, as subjects for their performances, which are acted exclusively by men. A full band of musicians generally accompanies the drama. The instruments mostly belong to the class called Instruments of Percussion, but several of them are constructed with plates of metal which produce a series of sweet tones, arranged according to the pentatonic scale. Some of the Javanese airs, which have been collected by Europeans, are very expressive, and it might be instructive to musical enquirers, if some really musical European visitor in Java would faithfully commit to notation the orchestral accompaniments of some of the most popular Javanese dramas. Madame Ida Pfeiffer relates that she was treated in the house of a Rajah, at Bandong, with a kind of pantomime in three acts, the third of which represented a combat. "The music that accompanied the combat," she remarks, "was very noisy and discordant; but, on the defeat of the one party, a soft plaintive melody arose at some distance off. The whole performance was really pretty and expressive."[93] Sir Stamford Raffles, and other travellers, give similar descriptions, and have besides much to say about the clever puppet-shows of the Javanese, in which the characters of dramas are represented by puppets, or by their shadows.
The Siamese are fond of theatrical performances. According to Turpin's history of Siam, published in the year 1771, "whenever they burn the body of a minister or great man, a theatre is erected on the side of a river, where the actors appear habited according to their parts; and during three days they never quit the scene from eight in the morning till seven at night." De La Loubère, who visited Siam in the year 1687, says that the subjects of the dramas are "historical, in verse, serious, and sung by several actors who are always present, and who only sing reciprocally. One of them sings the historian's part, and the rest sing those of the personages which the history makes to speak; but they are all men that sing, and no women." About a century ago it appears to have been the custom to employ only men as actors, although there were female dancers. But, at the present day there are actresses, at any rate in the palace of the King, where Sir John Bowring saw them perform on several occasions. In one of these entertainments "the actors were all females, almost all girls. A few matrons, however, took the part of warriors, monkeys, priests; and the three manageresses, or prompteresses, were not only old and ugly, but seemed very spiteful, and on several occasions scolded and slapped the ladies who required correction. One of them had the drama written on black sheets in white letters before her, from which she prompted the singers of the recitative. The story began by the appearance of a monster monkey in a forest, which is visited by a number of ladies of rank, one of whom, after an unsuccessful struggle, the others having managed to escape, the monster monkey contrives to carry off. She is redeemed by the interference of a priest, whose temple is in the forest. Afterwards we are introduced to a sovereign Court, where all the ceremonies are observed which are practised in daily life, the dresses being those ordinarily worn, and most gorgeous they are.... There is a battle, and rewards to the victors, and a crowning of a king's son in recompense for his valour, and offerings to Buddha, and a great feast, etc."[94] The principal performers act, but do not speak. The tale is told in recitative by a body of singers, accompanied by various instruments. The band assisting generally consists of about twenty members who play on wind instruments of the oboe kind, gongs, large castanets above a foot in length, and several sonorous instruments of percussion constructed with slabs of wood, or plates of metal, somewhat similar to those of the Javanese before mentioned.
The Cochin-Chinese are remarkably fond of dramatic entertainments, which are generally of an operatic character commemorating historical events. An English gentleman who witnessed the performance of some of these plays remarks of the actors: "Their singing is good, when the ear has become accustomed to it; and the modulation of voice of the females is really captivating."[95] Sir George Staunton was evidently surprised to find that a kind of historical opera, which he heard in the town of Turon (called by the natives Hansán) contained recitatives, airs, and choruses, which were, he says, "as regular as upon the Italian stage." He adds: "Some of the female performers were by no means despicable singers. They all observed time accurately, not only with their voices, but every joint of their hands and feet was obedient to the regular movement of the instruments."[96] The band consisted of stringed instruments, wind instruments, and instruments of percussion. Sir John Barrow describes the theatre at Turon as "a shed of bamboo." He relates: "In the farther division of the building a party of comedians was 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 labours, keeping up an incessant noise and bustle during our stay. The heat of the day, the thermometer in the shade standing at 81 deg. in the open air, and at least 10 deg. higher in the building, the crowds that thronged to see the strangers, 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 for 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."
Probably the air was founded on the pentatonic scale, which is common in the music of the Chinese and Javanese, and of which traces are to be found in the Scotch popular tunes.
"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 of an Italian opera."[97]
A curious mode of paying the actors, which prevails in Cochin-China, may be mentioned here. An Englishman who was present at a theatrical performance in the town of Kangwarting, relates that the Quong, or governor of the province, bore the expense of the entertainment. The musical drama was performed in a large shed before a great concourse of spectators. "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 also was a signal for his purse-bearer to throw 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 entirely 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 bystanders profited, not being honourable enough to hand it up to the poor actors."[98]
The Burmese have dramas performed by men, and also comedies represented by means of marionettes, or puppets. In the latter entertainments the figures are cleverly managed by persons situated beneath a stage which is hidden by a coarse curtain. The dialogues between these figures are much relished by the common spectators. At any rate, as they are apt to elicit uproarious mirth, they may be supposed to be often irresistibly comic. The real dramatic performances of the Burmese are acted by professional players, generally in the open air. The principal characters of the piece usually consist of a prince, a princess, a humble lover, a slave, and a buffoon. The female characters are represented by boys dressed in female attire. The dresses are handsome and gorgeous. However, the best theatrical performances take place in a building. On these occasions, there are two musical bands, one being placed on each side of the scene. The principal musical instruments of such an orchestra are of the percussion kind, containing a series of sonorous slabs of wood, or plates of metal, and somewhat resembling the Javanese instruments, but being attuned according to a diatonic order of intervals, instead of the pentatonic order. Also a curious contrivance, consisting of a set of drums suspended in a frame, each drum having a fixed tone, is used on these occasions. Moreover, the Burmese orchestra generally contains several wind instruments of the oboe and trumpet kind, as well as cymbals, large castanets of split bamboo, and other instruments of percussion, which serve to heighten the rhythmical effect of the music. The story of the drama is usually taken from ancient Burmese history. Captain Henry Yule, who has given a more detailed account of the Burmese plays than any previous traveller, remarks that when he was at Amarapoora he procured copies of some of the plays which he saw acted, from which it was evident to him that, while the general plan of the drama, comprising the more dignified and solemn part of the dialogue, was written down at considerable length, the humorous portions were left to the extempore wit of the actors. The following scenes are from a drama commemorating an episode from the life of Oodeinna, King of Kauthambi, a country in India. This drama, which was obtained by Captain Henry Yule, is a translation from the Pali, and the whole is in Burmese verse of four syllables.
(The scene opens in the Capital of Kauthambi. The king is seated on his throne, with his courtiers around him.)
King.—(Addresses them) "Great nobles and chiefs!"