XIV.
DANCES.
Schamyl, though from boyhood exhibiting in manners and character a certain degree of thoughtful gravity beyond his years, was, like all his countrymen, a dancer. Nor does the Circassian dance require, for the most part, any levity of disposition in the performer; some varieties of it being practised as a martial exercise, and with a decorum bordering on seriousness. In the war-dance the Lesghian, more particularly, is imperious in look as well as animated in action. He carries himself haughtily through all the evolutions, moving with equal grace and rapidity, keeping perfect time in his complicated steps, exhibiting an elasticity of tread, a suppleness of limbs, and a vigor of body truly astonishing; while at the same time the fierce earnestness of his countenance and his noble bearing are, as it were, a challenge to his enemies. Among European dances this warlike figure most resembles the highland fling of Scotland.
The dancing of the women appears tame and monotonous in comparison. Theirs is a slow movement, the principal charm of which is in its grace, and which requires for its execution a certain undulating motion of the body rather than any extra exertion of the feet and legs.
At all public festivals the two sexes always dance together. Generally after supping on roasted sheep or sodden kid, together with cakes of pastry and the aromatic honey, followed on the part of the male portion of the company by brimming bowls of mead, they form a ring on the greensward for their favorite pastime and crowning pleasure of the feast. The circle is often a very large one, with a bonfire in the centre during the evening. The daughters unveiled, are led down from their tents, situated a little apart on the hill-side, by their carefully muffled mothers, who with a prudence characteristic of them in other lands, also generally select from the candidates for the estate of matrimony such partners as may best suit both the present proprieties and the future possibilities of the case. Without a trifle of coquetry there is no dancing even in Circassia. The pipers then having taken their places, strike up a merry measure, to which moves gracefully round the whole circle. The beaux are expected to look grave as judges or the council ring itself, but the movement allows of a good deal of jamming and squeezing; so much so, indeed, that the fair ones are not unfrequently taken off their feet and borne around for short distances by the force of the pressure. When they touch the ground, however, their robes being short and their trowsers tightly fastened above the ancle, the movement of their feet, which are almost always pretty, is shown off to advantage.
It is a truly pleasing sight, the dance on the green of the valley, by daytime beneath the wide spread shade of aged oaks, in the twilight by the light of the harvest moon at its full, or with only the stars of night aided by the blazing pile of logs to illumine the scenes; while the long frocks of the deli-kans wave in concert with the skirts of the maidens, and youthful pleasure trips on tiptoe around the ring.
There is also the clown's dance, generally executed at entertainments after the mead or boza has worked sufficiently on the brain to produce a moderate degree of hilarity. It commences with a measured clapping of hands; a few low notes succeed, which, as the audience joins in, swell into a lively air; when some wild-looking "ghilly" in a long, tattered coat springs into the centre of the circle and begins shuffling. As he proceeds the singing grows gradually louder, accompanied from time to time with a more violent clapping of hands. Even shouts and screams are occasionally added to spur him on. Excited to the highest pitch of enthusiasm he then hops about with vigor, springing on the very points of his toes, and spinning around with great velocity, until suddenly down he drops flat on the green with strange ventriloquial sounds, mingled with moans as if the fall had half killed him. Then he throws off a volley of witty impromptus which set the ring in a roar of laughter; to these are added comical imitations of the cries of various animals; next he addresses some chieftain present in a strain of mock eloquence; and finally, the laughing devil leaping out of his eye, ends his buffoonery with dealing a pretty good whack or two over the shoulders of the most reverend seignor in the company, who, if he himself is a serf, may be his own master.
Frequently the dancer accompanies his motions more or less with his voice, being assisted also by the audience, who beat the measure with their hands, and chant the chorus of A-ri-ra-ri-ra. And as from time to time holding up his long garment behind with both hands, and bending his body low, he watches exultingly the movement of his feet, he shouts aloud with plaintive voice as if undergoing severe pain instead of experiencing an ecstasy of delight.
When the song of the dancer runs on love and vaunts the praises of some maiden renowned for beauty, the young warriors present pledge their own sweethearts in bowls of boza, and every few minutes discharge their pistols or rifles in the air. This latter act is always regarded as a challenge to the whole company, and whoever has a charge of gunpowder left immediately burns it in honor of the superior charms of his lady-love.
The intervals of repose between the dances and songs are very naturally filled up by story-telling. For the Circassians are scarcely less fond of tales and fables than of music and the fling. Having no books they hang eagerly upon the lips of whoever is skilled in recounting story, legend, and adventure, with the gift perhaps of throwing in scraps of song, proverbs, and jests, together with occasional displays of mimicry, feats in ventriloquism, grimaces, whistling, chirruping, and ringing all the changes of laughter. The winter evening's log burns to embers while some clever, sweet-tongued narrator repeats some of the thousand and one tales of the war against the Russians, or recites the adventures of the chase on the Terek and in the higher Caucasus, or dwells in turn now upon the ancient traditions of the tribes, and now on the wonders which the recent traveller has beheld in Tiflis, Constantinople, or St. Petersburg. The imagination of the mountaineer is ardent, however simple may be his own manner of life, and he loves especially to hear of the marvels of either eastern or western magnificence; so that when after an evening spent in listening to such recitals he lays his head upon his mat or his saddle, it is full to bursting of hanging gardens and marble palaces, high towers and the minarets of mosques, the gorgeous ceremonies of courts, the array and glitter of parades, and the gaudy street-pageants and bustle of affairs in the great metropolitan capitals of the plains.