Some Observations Upon the Civilization of the Western Barbarians, Particularly of the English / made during the residence of some years in those parts.

by John B. Swazey

Some of the stringed are similar to our Che. There is one, so enormous a structure, as to equal a house in size. It is made by a wonderful combination of hollow, metal pipes, ranging in size from a flute to a big cannon; and in height from a span to the lower mast of a ship. Its sounds are many, single in melody, or astonishing in a wild, clanging harmony (the Barbarians think); but to me, discord. All the combined noises are terrific; and surpass what the effect would be of our Che, Yuhnien, and Pieu-king all sounding at once!

In Singing, the men often roar like bulls, and the women scream, making hideous contortions. A handsome woman does not like to sing.

There is a Theatre—play—where all the parts, men and women, are sung. The passions of love, hate, jealousy, and so on, are sung and screamed at each other by the players in the most absurd manner. The woman will sing and shriek out the most astonishing gymnasts of voice, the man shouting and bellowing back, and then both together bellow and scream; the woman, at last, falls into the arms of the man, or the man throws himself in a passion at the feet of the woman—both singing and screaming all the while—and the curtain drops! Then arise the noisy plaudits of the spectators—demanding a repetition!

The barbaric music is, for the most part, like themselves, rude and noisy. There are some exceptions—and in simple melody often sweet and tender. The flute and the horn are pleasing—the former is much like our Cheng.

Occasionally, one or two thousand singers, and as many performers on instruments come together, and give a grand Musical Treat. Judge what this must be, when you add to this vast combination also the prodigious House of Noise (called Organ)!

Oratory is an Art much admired among the Western tribes, and the English think themselves to be prëeminent. I can hardly judge; one needs to be a perfect master of a tongue to follow a speaker as he ought to be followed. Barbarous races commonly produce effective Orators; the imagination is vivid, the passions strong, and there is enough culture to make the forms of speech at least tolerable.

In the Law-making Houses speeches (orations) are often delivered. For the most part dull in manner, insignificant in thought, poor in illustration, very ineffective. The members go to sleep, or withdraw, or rudely interrupt—sometimes coughing down the speaker. Very rarely are to be seen any flashes of eloquence, to be felt any thrill of its power. Unfortunately the same conceit, here as elsewhere, leads many to believe themselves to be Orators to whom the ability to speak properly is denied by nature. Yet these insist upon "airing their eloquence" (as it is styled) on every occasion possible. Generally these men have some subject, nick-named by the other members as a Hobby, which must be spoken to whether the House will hear or not. Then occurs one of those scenes so characteristic. The Hobby-man rises and tries to speak. He waxes eloquent (at least, he intends to be) on his favourite topic—perhaps the Pope at Rome; or the rights of women; or the purification of mud-streams; or the poor man's beer; no matter what, when the other members determined to drown the speaker, break through all the rules of the House, the orders of the Head officer, and more, all the ordinary decencies, and caterwaul, and cough and howl, till, from mere impossibility of hearing his own voice, the poor, squelched orator sinks into his seat.

Now, the House prides itself upon the liberty of speech and of debate; it is one of the palladia of English Freedom; and this is a forcible illustration of the liberty. Anything obnoxious to the majority, or even to a noisy minority, may be silenced—such is the freedom of debate!

The English Barbarians especially boast that the Great Council (Law-Houses) is not only the foremost of all national councils, whether ancient or modern, in character and in wisdom, but also in dignity, and the extreme care with which is guarded that most inestimable of all Institutions, the Sacred liberty of Speech!

There is a kind of oratory, sometimes contemptuously called Pulpit-oratory by the English, which may be referred to, because it forms a considerable part of the literary entertainment. Once a week, on the Holy day, ten thousand speeches or more are uttered by the Bonzes from a high place (called Pulpit) within the Temples. From the place of delivery the name mentioned is given to this kind of speech-making. The speech is known by one name—Sermon. These sermons form a part of the rites in the Temples, and are therefore numberless and never ceasing. As ought to be expected, they are as dull as such a formal thing must be. Some Bonze, new to his office, may attempt to give a little life to the performance. But the High-Caste do not like to be disturbed by any novelties; they prefer comfortably to sleep in the soft seats with high-backed supports, where their fathers have slept, Holy-day after Holy-day, for generations before them. They will not have the Bonze, therefore, thunder the terrors of Jah in their ears, nor affright their wives and children by painting Hell and the Devil. Eloquence, therefore, in the Temples, if it exist, must be content to glide softly over "green pastures," murmuring drowsily with "meandering streams."