There was a pause after the introductory,and then the real business of the opera -for it was no less -began;an opera where every singer was an accomplished actor.The leading man,in an impassioned ecstasy which possessed him from head to foot,seemed transfigured;once it was as though a strong wind had swept over the stage -their arms,their feathered fingers thrilling with an emotion that shook my nerves as well:heads and bodies followed like a field of grain before a gust.My blood came hot and cold,tears pricked my eyes,my head whirled,I felt an almost irresistible impulse to join the dancers.One drama,I think,Ivery nearly understood.A fierce and savage old man took the solo part.He sang of the birth of a prince,and how he was tenderly rocked in his mother's arms;of his boyhood,when he excelled his fellows in swimming,climbing,and all athletic sports;of his youth,when he went out to sea with his boat and fished;of his manhood,when he married a wife who cradled a son of his own in her arms.Then came the alarm of war,and a great battle,of which for a time the issue was doubtful;but the hero conquered,as he always does,and with a tremendous burst of the victors the piece closed.
There were also comic pieces,which caused great amusement.During one,an old man behind me clutched me by the arm,shook his finger in my face with a roguish smile,and said something with a chuckle,which I took to be the equivalent of "O,you women,you women;it is true of you all!"I fear it was not complimentary.At no time was there the least sign of the ugly indecency of the eastern islands.All was poetry pure and ******.The music itself was as complex as our own,though constructed on an entirely different basis;once or twice I was startled by a bit of something very like the best English sacred music,but it was only for an instant.At last there was a longer pause,and this time the dancers were all on their feet.As the drama went on,the interest grew.The performers appealed to each other,to the audience,to the heaven above;they took counsel with each other,the conspirators drew together in a knot;it was just an opera,the drums coming in at proper intervals,the tenor,baritone,and bass all where they should be -except that the voices were all of the same calibre.Awoman once sang from the back row with a very fine contralto voice spoilt by being made artificially nasal;I notice all the women affect that unpleasantness.At one time a boy of angelic beauty was the soloist;and at another,a child of six or eight,doubtless an infant phenomenon being trained,was placed in the centre.The little fellow was desperately frightened and embarrassed at first,but towards the close warmed up to his work and showed much dramatic talent.The changing expressions on the faces of the dancers were so speaking,that it seemed a great stupidity not to understand them.'
Our neighbour at this performance,Karaiti,somewhat favours his Butaritarian majesty in shape and feature,being,like him,portly,bearded,and Oriental.In character he seems the reverse:alert,smiling,jovial,jocular,industrious.At home in his own island,he labours himself like a slave,and makes his people labour like a slave-driver.He takes an interest in ideas.George the trader told him about flying-machines.'Is that true,George?'he asked.
'It is in the papers,'replied George.'Well,'said Karaiti,'if that man can do it with machinery,I can do it without';and he designed and made a pair of wings,strapped them on his shoulders,went to the end of a pier,launched himself into space,and fell bulkily into the sea.His wives fished him out,for his wings hindered him in swimming.'George,'said he,pausing as he went up to change,'George,you lie.'He had eight wives,for his small realm still follows ancient customs;but he showed embarrassment when this was mentioned to my wife.'Tell her I have only brought one here,'he said anxiously.Altogether the Black Douglas pleased us much;and as we heard fresh details of the king's uneasiness,and saw for ourselves that all the weapons in the summer parlour had been hid,we watched with the more admiration the cause of all this anxiety rolling on his big legs,with his big smiling face,apparently unarmed,and certainly unattended,through the hostile town.The Red Douglas,pot-bellied Kuma,having perhaps heard word of the debauch,remained upon his fief;his vassals thus came uncommanded to the feast,and swelled the following of Karaiti.
FRIDAY,JULY 26.-At night in the dark,the singers of Makin paraded in the road before our house and sang the song of the princess.'This is the day;she was born to-day;Nei Kamaunave was born to-day -a beautiful princess,Queen of Butaritari.'So I was told it went in endless iteration.The song was of course out of season,and the performance only a rehearsal.But it was a serenade besides;a delicate attention to ourselves from our new friend,Karaiti.
SATURDAY,JULY 27.-We had announced a performance of the magic lantern to-night in church;and this brought the king to visit us.
In honour of the Black Douglas (I suppose)his usual two guardsmen were now increased to four;and the squad made an outlandish figure as they straggled after him,in straw hats,kilts and jackets.