Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1892-03-06
WRITTEN FOR THE DISPATCH ]

between two houses, we suddenly find our
selves in great open space flooded BY
moonlight. This is the dancing place; but
the dance has ceased for time. Looking
about me, perceive that we are in the
court OF an ancient Buddhist temple.
Mufled Hum of Solemn Voices.
In the center of the court is framework
of bamboo, supporting q great drum; and
about it benches have been arranged
benches from the schoolhouse-on which
villagers are resting. There is hum of
voices-voices Of people speaking very low,
as if expecting something solemn-and
merry treble cries Of children betimes and
soft laughter of girls. And behind the
court, beyond low hedge of somber ever
green shrubs, I see far off white lights and
host of tall, gray shapes throwing long
shadows, and know that the lights are the
white lanterns of the dead Chose hung in
cemeteries only), and that the gray shapes
are shapes of tombs
Suddenly q girl rises from her seat, and
taps the huge drum once. 1t is the signal
for the dance of souls.
Out of the shadow of the ancient temple q
professional line of dancers files into the
moonlight and as suddenly halts-all young
women or girls, clad in their choicest attire;
the talIest leads; her comrades follow in
order of stature-loves of little maids of 10
or IL years compose the end of the process
sion. Figures lightly poised as birds figures
that somehow recall the dreams of shapes
circling about certain antique vases; those
charming Japanese robes, close-clinging
about the knees, might seem, but for the
great, fantastic, dropping sleeves, and the
curious, broad, ,comely girdles confning them,
designed after the drawingof some Greek or
Etruscan artist.
A Dance Words Cannot Describe,
And, at another tap of the drum, there be-
gins performance impossible to picture in
words-something unimaginable, phan-
tasmal, beautifully weird-a dance-an
astonishment. All together glide the right
foot forward one pace-without lifting the
sandal from the ground-and extend both
hands to the right, with strange
floating motion, as of swimming,
and smiling, mysterious obeisance.
Then the right foot is drawn
back. with a repetition of the waving of
advance the left foot, and repeat the pre-
vious movements, half turning to the left.
Then all take two gliding PAGES forward,
with single simultaneous soft clap of the
hands, and the first performance is reiter-
ated, alternately to right and left-all the
sandaled feet gliding together - all the
supple hands waving together - all the
plant bodies bowling and swaying together.
And so-slowlv, weirdly, beautifully-the
professional movement changes into grand
round, circling about the moonlit court, and
around the voiceless crowd of spectators.
And always the white hands sinuously wave
together, as if weaving spells. alternately
without and within the round-now with
palms upward, now with palms downward
and all the elfsh sleeves hover duskily to-
gether, with shadowing as of wings-and
all the beautiful feet polse together-with
of complex motion, that, in watching 1t, one
feels q sensation of hypnotism-as while
striving to watch flowing and shimmering
of water.
The Silence of the Tomb.
And this soporous allurement is intensi-
fed by dead hush. No one speaks-not
even spectstor. And, in the long inter
walls between the soft clapping of hands, one
hears only the shrilling of the crickets in
the trees and the shu-shu of sandals, lightly
stirring the moon -silvered dust Unto what,
I ask myself, may this be likened? Unto
1t suggests some strange fancy
of fsomnambulism; ;dreamers, who dream them
selves flying, dreaming upon their feet.
And there comes to me the thought that
am looking at something immemorially old
something belonging to the unrecorded
of this oriental Gfe-perhaps to
the crepuscular Kamiyo itself, to the Magi-
cal Age of the Gods, a symbolism of motion
whereof the meaning has been forgotten for
years. y Yet more and
more unreal the spectacle appears-with its
silent smiIings-with its silent bowings, as
of obeisance to watchers invisible-and
find myself wondering whether, were to
the gray mouldering court
and the desolate temple.
The Chapt for the Dead.
But no! those gracious, silent, waving
shapes are not of the Shadowy Folk, for
whose coming the white fires were kindled
"a strain Of song, full of sweet, clear.
some pirlish mouth-and 80 soft voices Join
the chant:
sorota soroimashita odorikoga sorota,
SorOikite kita hare e'yukata
Uniform to view (as ears OF young rice
rpen;ng in the field), all clad alike in sum
mer festal robes, the company of dancers
have assembled.
Again only the shrilling of the crickets,
the shu-shu of feet, the gentle clapping;
and the wavering, lowering witchery Of the
measure proceeds in silence, with mesmeric
nalvete of grace which, by
Its very strangeness, seems old as the en-
,ircling hills.
Suddenly deep male chant breaks the
hush. Two giants have Joined the round,
and now lead 1.-two superb young mountain
peasants, towering head and shoulders above
bhe whole Of the assembly: Their yukatas
are rolled about their loins like glrdles, leav
ing their bronzed limbs and torsos naked to
the warm air; they wear nothing else save
their huge picturesque straw hats, and white
tabi Japanese digitated stockings, Oh, rather,
socks) donned expressly for the festival.
Never before among such people saw I
such men, such thews; but their smiling.
beardless faces are comely and kindly as
those OF Japanese boys. They seem brothers
80 like in frame, in movement, in the very
timber OF their voices, as they intone q song.
And song follows song-and the round ever
becomes larger-and the hours pass unfelt,
while the huge moon wheels
slowly down the blue sleeps of the west A
deep low boom of bronze rolls suddenly
across the night-the rich tone OF some
temple bell telling tho twelfth hour. In |
standby the witchcraft ends-lfke the won-
der Of some sweet dream broken by e sound.
LAyCADIo HEARN.