WILSON ' S THEATRE OF THE HINDUS.

THE first edition of this work appeared in 1827; the second is now before us. The slow but steady nature of its circulation in

some measure indicates its character,—curious, interesting,valuable, enduring, but not popular. The learning of the scholar, the skill of the translator, and we may say the genius of the poet, have

been exercised on a subject which possesses no immediate or temporary attraction, from its sole connexion with times long gone by, with manners and a literature virtually dead, and with a people for whom, strange to say, we discover a singular apathy. This nega- tion is indeed counterpoised by the permanent character of the work. It will be for posterity, no less—perhaps more—than for us. Should any changes take place which may connect us to Hindostan by a closer sympathy, or, by severing us altogether from the country, impart to its inhabitants a purely historical interest, the Theatre of the Hindus will possess an augmented attraction hereafter.

Those who have thought upon the subject of criticism will see that these remarks imply no slight praise. Man is a creature of sympathy : he is indebted to memory for his mental pleasures. The exhibition of life and manners with which he is unacquainted, the display of customs with which he has never been conversant, and the description of scenery he has not seen, excite little curio- sity, and scarcely any interest. Hence the vulgar of all countries take small pleasure in any literature save that of their own time, or of those few countrymen who, rising above their age, have given a character of universality to their productions; and then, perhaps, their applause is bestowed rather on the gross or the homely than on the higher qualities. The more educated—ex- tending the limits of experience and observation by study—have a far wider range of intellectual pleasure ; but their beat is re- stricted to nations the merit of whose writers has preserved their language and embalmed their customs, rendering it worth while to undertake the task of acquiring one and studying the other. Yet, in this case, the reader of taste and refinement, with no ul- terior object in view, confines himself to the perusal of those authors who have exhibited the general nature of things, rather than their local peculiarities or accidental dispositions. In saying that the Theatre of' the Hindus was interesting and enduring, we implied its possession of the higher of these qualities. Amidst allusions which cannot be understood without an effort of the mind or a reference to notes, with representations of a social stale, of whose original having no knowledge, we miss both the force and justice of the delineation, there is still universality enough both in conception and execution to impart pleasure. The per- sons drawn by the dramatic poets are Hindus; but they are also men and women. Their sentiments, their feelings, even their passions, are modified by the creed and the habits and opinions of their country ; but the individual person and the general character of the genus homo still remain distinctly marked. The execution is sometimes inflated by Oriental hyperbole, and too frequently overlaid by Indian minuteness, if a judgment be formed by an European standard, but there is frequently much matter conveyed in a close, clear, and simple style; things are characterized rather than described, in a manner which reminds us of the best classics of any country ; and there are remarks scattered up and down the dramas which show a keen observation of life, and habits of pro- found reflection.

With regard to the lingual qualifications of the translator, we are incompetent to pass an opinion. We can, however, bear testi- mony to his taste and judgment, as well as to the excellence of the execution. The versification of Mr. WissoN is free, spirited, and masterly ; his prose possesses an easy strength ; and his English, in each mode of composition, is idiomatic, and mostly pure. In his introductory essay "on the Dramatic System of the Hindus," he presents a succinct account of the laws which regulate th Hindu drama ; and if he does not exhibit the highest critical sa- gacity, he at least displays considerable critical knowledge. In the Appendix we have an analysis of upwards of' twenty dramas of inferior merit ; in the most elaborate of which, criticism, description, and quotation, are pleasantly combined. The complete dramas are six in number embracing "the most celebrated speci- mens of the Hindu Theatre." They are various in subject and character ; and selected from the earliest productions of Hindu literature ((lie first, it is supposed, being as ancient as 192 of our fere, the last no later than 1125), before the national faith was cor- rupted by heresies, and the manners changed by the Mussulman conquest. The general literary characteristics of these productions have been told already. As regards the formal essentials of the drama, they differ little from that of Europe. The unity of action is pre- served, and sometimes, as Mr. W i csost observes, with considerable art. The unities of time and place are disregarded; nor is there the classical limitation as to the number of the acts,—the last, ap- parently an arbitrary rule, but its violation here scents to have in- duced an expansion of the plot which diminishes its interest by elaborating its conduct. In the essentials of the dramatic spirit, the Hindu theatre differs greatly from ours, and we think for the worse. The passion is less intense ; the incidents are less striking, and not so varied ; the action is more tame, the progress of the story less rapid, the catastrophe less satisfying. The absence of those mechanical auxiliaries, addressing themselves to the eye, with which art has enriched the stage in modern theatres, has given rise to that clumsy artifice, prevalent in our older dramatists, cf describ- ing something to the audience which they are snpposed to see. It Las also led to an excess of description, that must have re- quired great powers of delivery in the actors ; and presuppsses a patience in the auditors, only found, we suspect, in an early stage of literature, where books are scarce and reading is not a general accomplishment. To say that these dramas have not the vigorous tone or the condensed energy of ou rs,—t hat they display nothing of the manly feelings of the hero, of the refitted sentiment of the lover,. —is merely saying that they are Hindu, not English. After all, passions and character are, like religioii, "aim affair of geography." Climate and custom, which lower the stamina of the system, anti subdue openness and boldness in man, render ladies less jealous and more accomniodating than where polygamy is fOrbidden by law and opinion. Yet, with the sentiment, we generally miss the vehemence, the warmth, and the sensuality of European pas- sion. Their affairs of the heart seem to go on with the method and decorum of matters of business, and, with one exception, are perhaps rather likings than love. These national differences, how- ever, are greater in the tragic than the comic : lovers, heroes, and statesmen, appear to vary much in their modes of di:nifty; but , cheats, coxcombs, buffoons, fools, and jesters, have a more universal resemblance. So true is the remark of Joii NSON, that " men have been wise in very different nudes, but have always laughed the same way." The production of the highest order, as regards the beauty of its poetry anti the dignity of its personages, is " The Hero and the Nymph ;" the subject of which is the loves of a goddess and a god-descended monarch, whose queen, by the way, very con- siderately takes upon herself a religious vow in order not to oppose' any obstacle to the connexion. The drama of course is connected, though not abstrusely, with Hindu mythology, and wants the in- terest of human action ; but it is remarkable for fancy, imaginations and richness of description. One of its acts, too, is a singular specimen of the beau ideal of an opera—a happy mixture of blank verse and lyrics—of feeling or of passion in the siveches, gliding into sentiment and description in the songs. From this we will take our extracts ; as they will at the same time convey an ideas of the higher portion of the work and of time translator's abilities. It should be premised, that Purtiravas (the hero) is distracted, owing to the loss of Urvasi," the Nymph, who has been trans- formed into a vine. The scene is a forest. Purtiravas is search- ing for his mistress, and in his insanity successively addresses the natural objects before him. The reader will not be surprised at the novelty of the ideas, and must allow for his ignorance of the originals whence they are derived. Thus, the image in the firsts Air is perhaps only to be fully appreciated by those who have seen the "mighty clouds" of the rainy season " sailing " through the circurnambient vapours. The nearest notion we can form of it is. a thunder-cloud in summer, backed by the hazy gloom of a gather- ing storm. Yonder, amidst the thick and shady branches Of the broad jambu, cowers the kat ; faint Her flame of passion in the hotter breath Of noon. She of the birds is wisest famed— I will address her.

AIR.

Majestic as sails the mighty cloud Along the dusky air, The elephant cometh hither to shroud In the thickets his despair. From his heart all hope of delight is riven, And his eyes with tears o'erflow, As he roams the shades, where the sons of heaves Descend to sport below.

A I it.

Say, nursling of a stranger nest,* Say, hut thou chanced my love to see, Amidst these gardens of the bleat, Wandering at liberty; • The lea like the cuckoo, is said to leans its eggs in the nests of other birds..

Or warbling with a voice divine Aldo(boos atrium more sweet than thine.

Sweet bird—whom lovers deem Love's messenger,t

Skilled to direct the goal's envenomed shafts And tame the proudest heat t ; oh, hither guide Aly lovely fugitive, or lead my steps To where she straja. Why did she leave One so devoted to her will ? In wrath She left me, but the cause of auger lives not In my imagination. The fond tyranny That women exercise o'er those who love them Brooks not the slightest show of disregard.

How now ? the bird has flown. 'Ti, ever thus—

All coldly listen to atiother's sorrows, Unheeding my affliction, lo, she speeds,

Intent on joy expected, to p.m tree'

To banquet on the luscious juice, the jamb:, f

From its now ripe and roseate fiuit distills.

Like my beloved, the bird of tuneful song Deserts me. • • • • • Say, mountain, whose expansive slope confines The forest verge, oh tell me hast thou seeu A nymph as beauteous as the hr ide of love, Mounting with slender flame thy steep ascent, Or wearied resting in thy crowning woods. How, no reply ! remote he hears are not- ] will approach him nearer.

AiR.

From thy crystal summits the glistening springs Rush down the flowery sides, And the spirit of heaven delightedly sings As among thy peaks he hides. Say, mountain so favoured, have the feet Of my fair one pressed this calm retreat ?

Now, by my hope., he answers! he has seen her—

Where is she? say : alas ! again deceived.

Alone 1 hear the echo of my words, As round the cavern's hollow mouth they roll And multiplied return. Ah, Urvasi !

Fatigue has oveicon e me. I will rest Upon the borders of this mountain torrent, And gather vigour from the breeze that gleams Refreshing coolness from its gelid waves.

Whilst gazing on the stream, a hose new-swum n waters Yet turbid flow, a hat strange imaginiogs Possess may soul and till it with delight.

The rippling wave is like her at thing brow ; The fluttering line of storks, her timid tongue; The foamy spray, her white loose floating vest ; And this meandering course the current tracks, Iler undulating gait; all these recall lily soon-effended love-1 must appease her.

A fit.

Be not relentless, dearest, Nor wroth with me for ever. 1 mark where thou appearest A fair and mountain river.: Tile Guagn proud thou showest, Elton heavenly regions springing ;

rOO1111 that 1, thumm 110W4.14

'the birds their course are wingirg The timid deer confiding Thy flowery borders throng; And bees, their store providing, Pour forth enraptured sung.

Al a.

In the lowering east the king of the deep Expects his craning uncle; his limbs are the clouds that darkly sweep The skirts of the heaving tide;

And Lis tossing 411 Ms are the tumbling waves,

Where the gale o'er the heaving billows raves.

With rapture he dances, the lord of the main, • And proud in his state appears: His steps are pursued by the monster train The deep sea darkness rears; And the curlew, the swan, and glistening shell, And the lotus, the monarch's glory swell.

The bellowing surges his fame resound And dash at the gates of Heaven, The sea with the sky they threat to confound,

But back with shame are driven' -

For now the toting rains are armed for their right And their prowess arrests old ocean's might.

As regards the accuracy of the translation, Mr. WILSON ex- presses his belief" that few translations of the same class can pre- tend to greater fidelity, as nothing has been added, little omitted, and the expressions of the original have been adhered to as closely as the genius of the two languages would allow." With respect to its general character, we surmise that the objection brought against POPE'S Homer may be applied to WILSON'S Theatre of the Hindus, that it is not sufficiently Hindu—that the translator does not reflect the original—does not show us bow the Hindus wrote, but how they would have written had they written in English, with Mr. WiLsoN's command of the language. If this guess be true (and a guess it of necessity is), the substance of our great critic's reply to the cavillers against the English Iliad may be urged, and with still greater justice in favour of the Hindu dramas— that an author writes to be read, and that the accuracy from which the reader turns away is useless.

The space we have bestowed on what may now be considered as a standard work, renders commendation superfluous. To the scholar and the critic, the volumes are necessuly ; and the general

f. Because the Cope Is especially heard at the season of spring, the friend of

hove.

The mse•apple. so deironduated from its odour: it is, however, the madjantle that Is mentioned in thetwal.

reader will fin I in their pages a fund of interest as regards the literature, and of curiosity as respects the picture of manners and the state of society they display.