VIII

The Lithuanians had in olden times snake dances and dances somewhat related to the legendary and mystic themes of the American Indians. Even in the folk-dances of the modern Lithuanians there are elements to be found that show relation to the ancient American tribes. An average Lithuanian folk-dance, as known and danced to-day is simple but pretty, and is either mixed with Byzantine or with Romanesque designs. But the legendary ideas still prevail, even in the picturesque wedding dances.

The Polish folk-dances, the Polonaise, Mazurka, Krakoviak, and Obertass, contribute their quota of originality. The Krakoviak is a circular dance with singing interspersed; lively graceful poses, soft delicate lines and gliding steps make it look like a refined salon dance of mediæval nobility. The Polonaise and Mazurka have spread as social dances in numerous variations throughout the world. Chopin used the themes of many Polish folk-dances for his individual compositions, as they are exceedingly sweet, romantic, and delicate in their melodic structure. The Obertass is a real gymnastic performance with occasional polka-steps and wild turns. It is danced by a couple with such velocity towards the end that the woman must hold strongly to the shoulders of her partner in order to keep from reeling off towards the spectators. Delicate, temperamental, with occasional traits of melancholy and softly graceful line, the Polish folk-dances are characteristic of the racial soul. In many respects the Poles resemble the French in racial qualities. The debonair manners of the French, their tendency toward romantic emotions, are to be noticed in the Polish national dance. The qualities give it an air of seeming refinement and make it a distinct social amusement, and nothing else.

The Bohemian, Ruthenian, Servian and Bulgarian folk-dances are each typical of their race. A tendency of most of the Slavic folk-dances is that the two sexes should mingle as little as possible. Men and women join hands in certain figures, emphasizing the dramatic meaning of the dance, otherwise they remain separated. They rarely dance in couples as the other European races do. They make promenades, march or gallop; they leap and bound in such a manner that the woman faces the man but rarely touches him. The woman’s movements are distinctly feminine, the man’s masculine. The Slav feels that the mixing of the sexes, or the putting of woman on the same plane with man, is detrimental to the æsthetic emotions, particularly to the romantic feelings.

The Romaika and Kolla are both picturesque circle dances of the Southern Slavs. In the latter the man does not take the hand of the woman next to him, but passes his arm under hers to clasp the hand of her neighbor. The whole ring circles round in skipping step to the accompaniments of melancholy songs. The women are adorned with glass beads, huge gowns, artificial flowers and false jewelry of the most fantastic colors. The men wear richly embroidered bright-colored shirts and wide trousers. Sometimes a special woman dancer enters the ring and executes a dramatic pantomime, reflecting somehow a local affair. On other occasions man and woman go through a vivid pantomimic performance in the circle, while the rest circle around them singing.

The Roumanians have a strange folk-dance called the Hora which is performed by the youth in languishing cadence to the long drawn notes of the bagpipes. This consists of a prelude and a real dance. At first, the dancers advance to the left five steps, stamping the ground and stopping suddenly, after which they repeat the same motions for a few times. Of this M. Lancelot writes: ‘Gradually the mandolins strike in to enliven the solemn strain, and seem desirous to hurry it, emitting two or three sonorous notes, but nothing moves the player of the bagpipes; he perseveres in his indolent rhythm. At last a challenging phrase is thrice repeated; the dancers accompany it by stamping thrice on the ground, and looking back at the girls grouped behind them. The latter hesitate; they look at each other, as if consulting together; then they join hands and form a second circle round the first. Another call, more imperious still, is sounded, they break from each other, and mingle in the round of young men.

‘At this moment the old gypsy opens his keen little eyes, showing his sharp white teeth in a sudden smile, shaking out a shower of joyous, hurried notes over the band, he expresses by means of an agitated harmony the tender thrill that must be passing through all the clasped hands. The Hora proper now begins. It lasts a long time, but retains throughout the character of languor that characterized its commencement. Its monotony is varied, however, by a pretty bit of pantomime. After dancing round with arms extended, the men and their partners turn and face each other in the middle of the circle they have been describing. This circle they reduce by making a few steps forward; then, when their shoulders are almost touching, they bend their heads under their uplifted arms, and look into each other’s eyes. This figure loses something of its effect from the frequency with which it is repeated; and the cold placidity with which the dancers alternately gaze at their right-hand and left-hand neighbors is disappointing, and robs the pantomime of its classic aroma.’