Shortly after our arrival at Prome we had an opportunity of witnessing
some boxing and wrestling matches, exercises which the Burmahs are very
fond of, and which they pride themselves much on excelling in. The
challenge is given by stepping to the front, and with the right hand
slapping the left shoulder, at the same time taunting the opponent in
order to excite him; the struggle does not last long, and when ended, no
animosity remains between the parties.
Another amusement of the Burman youth deserves mentioning on account of
its singularity. This is a game at ball, played by six or eight young
men, formed in a circle; the ball is hollow, and made of wicker work;
and the art of the game consists in striking this upwards with the foot,
or the leg below the knee. As may be conceived, no little skill is
required to keep the ball constantly in motion; and I have often been
much entertained in watching the efforts made by the players to send the
ball high in the air, so that it should fall within the limits of the
ring, when it is again tossed by the foot of another. The natives of
Hindostan are not acquainted with this game, but it is said to be common
amongst the Chinese, Japanese, and other nations east of the Ganges. But
by far the most favourite amusements of the Burmahs are acting and
dancing, accompanied by music, which to my ear appeared very discordant,
although occasionally a few rather pleasing notes might be
distinguished. The principal instrument used in the Burman bands of
music is the kiezoop, which is formed of a number of small gongs,
graduated in size and tone on the principle of the harmonica, and
suspended in a circular frame about four feet high and five feet wide;
within which the performer stands, and extracts a succession of soft
tones, by striking on the gongs with two small sticks. Another circular
instrument (the boundah) serves as a bass; it contains an equal number
of different-sized drums, on which the musician strikes with violence,
with a view perhaps to weaken the shrill, discordant notes of a very
rude species of flageolet, and of an equally imperfect kind of trumpet,
which are usually played with a total disregard of time, tune, or
harmony. Two or three other instruments, similar in principle to the
violin, complete the orchestra. To Europeans, there was not much to
admire in the sounds produced by these instruments; neither did our
music appear to have many charms for the Burmahs, whom I have seen
present at the performance of some of Rossini's most beautiful airs, and
of different martial pieces, by one of our best regimental bands,
without expressing, either by their words or gestures, the least
satisfaction at what they heard.
In condemning, however, the Bunnaa instrumental music generally, I would
observe, that some of the vocal airs have a very pleasing effect when
accompanied by the Patola. This is an instrument made in the fantastic
shape of an alligator; the body of it is hollow, with openings at the
back, and three strings only are used, which are supported by a bridge,
as in a violin.
I chanced one day to meet with a young Burman who had been stone blind
from his birth, but who, gifted with great talent for music, used to
console himself for his misfortune by playing on this species of guitar,
and accompanying his voice. When I expressed a wish to hear him perform,
he immediately struck out a most brilliant prelude, and then commenced a
song, in a bold tone, the subject of which was a prophecy that had been
current at Rangoon before we arrived. It predicted the appearance of
numerous strangers at that place, and that two-masted ships would sail
up the Irrawaddy, when all trouble and sorrow would cease! Animated by
his subject, his voice gradually became bolder and more spirited, as
well as his performance, and without any hesitation he sung with much
facility two or three stanzas composed extempore.
Changing suddenly from the enthusiastic tone, he commenced a soft
plaintive love-song, and then, after striking the chords for some time
in a wild but masterly manner, retired. I confess I felt much interested
in this poor fellow's performance, he seemed so deeply to feel every
note he uttered, particularly at one time, when he touched upon his own
misfortune, that it appeared Providence, in ordaining he should never
see, had endowed him with this "soul-speaking" talent in some measure to
indemnify him.
The Burmahs, generally speaking, are fond of singing, and, in some
instances, I have heard many very good songs. The war-boat song, for
example, is remarkably striking. The recitative of the leading songster,
and then the swell of voices when the boatmen join in chorus, keeping
time with their oars, seemed very beautiful when wafted down the
Irrawaddy by the breeze; and the approach of a war-boat might always be
known by the sound of the well-known air.
I have sometimes heard a trio sung in parts by three young girls, with a
correctness of ear and voice which would do credit to others than the
self-taught Burmahs. Many little songs, amongst others that commencing
"Tekien, Tekien," were composed and sung by the Burman fair in
compliment to their new and welcome visiters, the white strangers; but
these, of course, are long since consigned to oblivion, unless they
recollect with pleasure
--"The grateful breath of song,
That once was heard in happier hours;"
for it is very certain that the Bunnahs considered themselves quite
happy, when enjoying the transient glimpse of liberty, and the
advantages of a just government which were offered them during the short
stay of the British army at Prome.
The Burman plays do not appear to be remarkable for the number of their
_dramatis personæ_. In most there is a prince, a confidant, a buffoon or
two, and a due proportion of female characters, represented by boys
dressed in female attire. The dresses are handsome; and in one which I
attended, the dialogue appeared to be lively and well supported, as far
as I can judge from the roars of laughter which resounded from the
Burman part of the audience. One sentimental scene, in which the loving
prince takes leave of his mistress, and another where, after much
weeping and flirtation, she throws herself into his arms, were
sufficiently intelligible to us; but some, in which the jokes of the
clown formed the leading feature, were quite lost upon those who did not
understand the language. The place chosen for the representation was a
spot of ground outside of our houses, the heat being very great; and
here a circle was formed of carpets and chairs, lighted by torches
dipped in petroleum, which threw a brilliant flare around, though
accompanied by a most unpleasant odour.
Dancing succeeded, and one or two young women were the performers; like
the Hindostanee Nautch, it merely consisted in throwing the body and
arms into numerous graceful and rather voluptuous postures; at the same
time advancing slowly, with a short steady step, and occasionally
changing it for a more lively figure.
All this time the drums, cymbals, and clarionets were unceasing in their
discordant sounds, and, before long, fairly drove me from the field.
_Two Years in Ava._
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