It is to truth, not insensible to, though not carried away by friendshipit is to the memory of an honourable man, and one of this country's most meritorious officers, but of whom, with gratitude be it acknowledged, a numerous and noble band still remain ;-that the writer of this brief and imperfect memoir offers the tribute of respect and regard. May his example stimulate others-may his early fate be averted from them-and may his friends and relatives, near and dear, be consoled in the recollection of his excellent qualities! G.

DESCRIPTIVE SKETCHES FROM THE GOLDEN EMPIRE.

[For the Asiatic Journal.]

ARRACAN.

The

THE existing accounts of Arracan are entirely destitute of truth. geographical details are strikingly defective and inaccurate; and the particulars heretofore given of the people are little to be relied on. The farther we proceed in this country, the more are we assured of the fact, that many writers have been deceived by intentional misrepresentations; the errors can hardly be accounted for upon any other supposition. For example, the Mayoo, represented as an insignificant stream, has been found to be a large river, three or four miles wide at its embouchure: the people have been described as effeminate and cowardly; but, although the Mugs differ somewhat in character in different parts of the country, in the vicinity of the capital they are of a robust make, and far from timorous in disposition. The features of the country have been variously delineated: in fact, beyond the hills, the land exhibits every symptom of fertility and luxuriance; groves of trees, and tanks or reservoirs of water, are intermixed with villages, which, though deserted and dull at this period of war and invasion, in a time of peace would doubtless display all the cheerful attributes of rural felicity. The number of villages in Arracan proper is about eighty; and their evident prosperity, under a government so despotic as that of Ava, is a sure proof that the soil is highly fertile and productive; the climate healthy (as indeed we find it to be) and propitious to cultivation. The crops of grain appear to be abundant; one evidence of which may be inferred from the quantity accumulated in the stores of the capital about half a million maunds of paddy were deposited in the fort of Arracan, at the period of its capture by the British troops.

:

The city of Arracan exhibits a very peculiar appearance. It is built upon a plain, or it may be called a valley, about four miles in circumference, of a quadrangular form, and entirely surrounded by hills, some of which are 500 feet high. The plain itself is hard and rocky; it is intersected by divers nullahs and streams, which occasionally join each other and fall into the river; some of them rush with violence through chasms and fissures in the rock, and one flows directly through the city, which is thus divided into two parts, connected by means of strong but clumsy wooden bridges. This stream ebbs and flows with the tide, and at high-water boats are able to navigate it. These nullahs are off-shoots, as it were, of a stream which separates from the great river at Muhatti, and traverses the plain in which the city stands.

As the site of the city is thus pervaded by water, it is overflowed during the rains; consequently the houses are raised upon piles, or strong posts of timber. These houses, or rather huts, are miserable structures, little more

than

than four feet from the ground, composed of bamboos or timber, thatched with straw or mats, and only one story high. They are ranged with considerable regularity in streets; the principal street is on either side of the stream which runs through the city. The number of houses is nearly 19,000: reckoning five persons to a house, the number of inhabitants in Arracan, before its capture by our troops, must have been about 95,000; and this estimate is said to be below the truth. Many of the houses (perhaps nearly half) are now unroofed or damaged, and some are burnt. A considerable space was obliged to be cleared to allow of commodious buildings for the accommodation of our troops during the wet season. Although many of the inhabitants have returned, the native population of the city does not now exceed 20,000, a large proportion of whom are priests, who were almost the only residents when our army entered the place; which presented a singular spectacle, from its marks of recent populousness, and its then stillness, and aspect of desolation.

The most curious object within the city is the ancient fort (the only building of durable materials in the place), which is surrounded by three quadrangular concentric walls, each about twenty feet high, and of considerable thickness. They are formed of large stones, put together with great labour, and are evidently of some antiquity. Those parts which are decayed have been repaired by pieces of timber being inserted in the interstices. The outer wall is partly natural, and of considerable extent. The inner space is the citadel, and here resided the governor, the public officers, &c.; and here also were situated the public granaries. The distance between the walls varies in different places; sometimes being about 100 feet, and sometimes not half so much. Upon the whole, this remnant of the power of the ancient kingdom of Arra can is highly deserving of attention, and will probably induce some one, more competent to the task than I am, to furnish a fuller and better account of its character and history.

The heights which surround the city are covered with pagodas, the gilt spires of which, shooting up from every pinnacle around, and glittering in the sun, contribute greatly to the singular and picturesque appearance of the place. Upwards of sixty of these temples, the shapes of which are various, can be counted at once; each contains an image of Gaudama. Many of these buildings disclose subterranean passages, which our fellow-soldiers are busy in exploring.* The architecture of the temples in this country is curious; although the style has no pretensions to real taste, it is not unsightly, and some of the porticos of the better sort of pagodas are handsome. There is a profusion of gilding and painting in most of them; even marble is often covered with gold leaf. Sometimes a deception is practised, as in English architecture, where humble stucco assumes the character of a more costly material: wooden pillars are occasionally coated with a sort of composition, or cement, which gives them the appearance of dark marble. Independently of the fort, the temples are the only stone or pucka buildings about Arracan; and without them, this capital of an extensive province, once an independent state, would only deserve the name of a large but very beggarly village.

*See an article in our last volume, p. 695.

THE

THE CHINESE DRAMA.

DRAMATIC Composition is affirmed to be of very early date in China; anterior, perhaps, to the period of its invention in Greece. Like all the other arts of that peculiar nation, however, it seems to have become stationary at a certain point, far distant from that of perfection.

Theatrical amusements are highly relished by all classes of the Chinese : they not only compose a part of their entertainments at public festivals, but individuals of opulence are accustomed to employ players for the amusement of their guests, and convenient halls are commonly provided in their houses for that purpose. Taverns, likewise, have accommodations for dramatic exhibitions, as was once the practice in England.* It is even asserted by Des Guignes, that temples in China are not unfrequently the scene of theatrical performances.

Works adapted for the stage are therefore numerous in that country, and large collections of plays exist in print. Nevertheless, Europeans, ignorant of the language of China, are probably less acquainted with this than with any other department of its literature; for of the multitude of dramatic pieces extant there, two only, we believe, have hitherto been translated into any European tongue, and but one of them has acquired an English dress. The collection of the Jesuit missionary Du Halde, contains a French translation, by Prémare, a fellow missionary, of the Tchao-chi-cou-ell, or "Little Orphan of the House of Tchao," the chief incidents of which have constituted the ground-work of Voltaire's Orphelin de la Chine," and of Arthur Murphy's "Orphan of China." Neither of these two pieces affords the least idea of the original, or of the state and character of the Chinese drama. The remarks upon the original work, as exhibited by Du Halde, and upon the Chinese theatre, which the French author has prefixed to his tragedy, are as loose, vague, and inaccurate, as can well be conceived.

Mr. Davis, of Canton, performed a very grateful service to literature in translating a Chinese comedy (from the large collection in which the preceding piece is found), entitled Laou-seng-urh, “An Heir in his Old Age," which was published in England in 1817. From these two specimens we may derive some knowledge of the condition of the stage in China. If we compare these pieces, which were composed, at the latest, towards the beginning of the fourteenth century, with the productions of European writers at the same period, the comparison will be highly to the advantage of the former; but assuming that they are the best which the Chinese stage can now furnish, it would be preposterous to institute a parallel betwixt the European and the Chinese drama at the present day.

The comedy introduced to our knowledge by Mr. Davis is much inferior to the piece in Du Halde. The former is a tale related in dialogue, with very little dramatic effect. The "Orphan of Tchao," on the contrary, exhibits passages wherein the dialogue is really dramatic: we detect in it, moreover, something like strong conception and discrimination of character. Voltaire remarks that it discovers no eloquence, no passion (though the strong emotions of the speakers are invariably expressed, according to the practice of the Chinese stage, in verses, which the translator has omitted); yet he confesses

* The balconies to be seen in the yards of old inns were the boxes, pit, and gallery, and the area was the stage, upon those occasions.

fesses that it is highly interesting. The contempt which the Chinese author has manifested towards the sacred laws of the unities was amply sufficient to arouse the keen indignation of Voltaire, who observes, with characteristic severity, "the action of the Chinese piece lasts for twenty-five years, like the monstrous furces of Shakspeare and Lopez de Vega, which are miscalled tragedies."

The Editor of Mr. Davis's piece has indeed alleged, that the translation of Prémare (which Du Halde describes as exact,-exactement traduit,) is garbled. This allegation may be correct, but it is not stated upon what authority it is made; neither is it clear whether more is meant than that the translator has excluded the poetical passages in the dialogue, which the same editor declares to be "the very best parts of the play."

We are induced to think that the publication of the Chinese tragedy in English, from Du Halde's work, which is not very accessible, will please the readers of this Journal, who will probably derive from the perusal of it more than the mere gratification which curiosity receives from such an uncommon object as a CHINESE TRAGEDY.

The only passages retrenched in the following translation are the introductory addresses of the various speakers, who begin by telling the audience their names, their characters, and their business: a practice which must greatly impair the effect of dramatic deception, but which is, perhaps, indispensable in the present circumstances of the Chinese stage.

THE ORPHAN OF THE HOUSE OF TCHAO;

TOU NGAN-COU, prime minister (of war) to the King of Tsin.

TCHING-ING, a physician of the household of Tchao-so, son of Tchao-tun, the late minister of the civil department.

HAN-QUA, military officer of rank, under Tou-ngan-cou.

KONG-LUN, an old courtier, friend of Tchao-tun.

TCHING-FOEI, the orphan, son of Tchao-so, but supposing himself the son of Tching-ing. WEI-FONG, great officer of the court.

The daughter of the King, widow of Tchao-so.

[The prologue (sia-tsee), which is opened by Tou-ngan-cou, relates the transactions antecedent to the drama, and furnishes a clue to the fable. At the court of Ling-Kong, king of Tsin, the direction of affairs was in the hands of two mandarins, one belonging to the civil order, named Tchao-tun; the other the above-named Tou-ngan-cou, who was of the military class, and minister of war. Jealousies arose betwixt them, and the latter took measures to destroy his adversary. He employed an assassin to scale the walls of Tchao-tun's palace, and stab him; but the attempt failed. It happened that a "king of the West" had presented to Ling-Kong a large dog, named Chinngao, which his Majesty gave to Tou-ngan-cou, who made use of the animal as an instrument for his purpose. He adopted an expedient similar to that practised by the romantic hero, Saint George of Cappadocia, in training his dogs to contend with the dragon: he made a figure of the height and bulk of Tchao, and dressed exactly in his manner, placing sheep's entrails in the body of the figure, which he instructed the dog, who was kept fasting, to attack. Entering the royal presence, Tou-ngan-cou declared to his Majesty that there was a traitor in the court, and that the dog which the King had Asiatic Journ. VOL. XXI. No. 121. given

G

given him would point out the individual. The dog was produced, by desire of his Majesty; and the ravenous animal, seeing Tchao-tun by the King's side, leaped upon him, and would have torn him in pieces; but the intended victim escaped, and entered his carriage in order to retire from the palace. His treacherous rival had, however, to make assurance doubly sure, damaged one of the wheels, so that it broke down; but a passenger on the road supported the vehicle on his shoulder, and stopped the horses: this individual proved to be a man whom Tchao had formerly relieved when perishing with want. Tou-ngan-cou made the King believe that the utter destruction of Tchao-tun was essential to his safety, and procured his family and domestics, to the number of 300 persons, to be massacred. The only relics of the family were Tchao-so (the son of Tchao-tun) and his wife, a daughter of the King, whose destruction he was obliged to compass by fraud: he accordingly forged an order from the King, and sent to Tchao-so a rope, some poisoned wine, and a dagger, with the customary compliment of allowing him to choose his mode of death. Tchao-so stabbed himself; the princess, his wife, was confined to her own house, where, soon afterwards, she was delivered of a son. -At this period of time the piece opens.]

ACT I.

SCENE I. The palace of Tou-ngan-cou.

TOU-NGAN-COU, attended.

Tou. I fear the wife of Tchao-so may bring a son into the world; if so, when he attains mature age, he will be a formidable enemy to me; I therefore keep her in confinement. Night approaches; what can occasion the delay of my messenger ?

Enter a Soldier.

Sold. The princess is delivered of a son, who is called the Orphan of the house of Tchao.

Tou. Can it be so? What! this abortion called the Orphan of the house of Tchao? A month's delay will do no harm; I shall still have time to rid myself of this little orphan-go and command Han-qua to guard well the entrance of the palace where dwells the widow of Tchao; desire him in particular to examine every one who leaves it: should any one be bold enough to conceal this infant of Tchao, he and his whole race shall die. Publish this order every where; let the inferior mandarins be acquainted with it: if any one presume to contravene it, he shall suffer the punishment. [Exeunt. SCENE II. The palace of the Princess.

Enter the Princess.

Prin. All the woes of mankind seem congregated in my heart. The traitor Tou-ngan-cou has exterminated our family. None is left me but this poor orphan, whom I carry in my arms. His father, my husband, ere he died, left as a legacy to me these words: "My Princess," he said, "if you have a son, name it the Orphan of the house of Tchao; preserve him with great care, so that, when he reaches maturity, he may revenge his family."-By what means shall I withdraw my child from this prison ?—A thought occurs to me: I have no parent, no friend, but Tching-ing; he belonged to my husband's household, and his name was happily not found upon the sanguinary list. I will confide to him my secret.

Enter TCHING-ING, with his box of medicines. Tching. You desired me, madam, to be called; what is your pleasure with me?