They go to bathe in the forest brook.
What has my loved one promised to me?
She has promised to chat a little with me,” etc.
This questioning and answering is not confined to their music, for the Javanese are passionately fond of conundrums.[201] The imagery of their poems and songs is of the simplest and most natural description, fields, flowers, trees, rivers, etc., appear ad infinitum in their literature.[202] Their early historical legends are full of Gods in human form, of giants, and miracles; somewhat resembling in this the Hindoo allegories.
Theatrical representations, of course form a large part of both Malaysian and Polynesian popular amusements. In Java, national history is preserved not only by the ballads, but by pantomimic representations; in the latter, little puppets made of leather, wood, or paper, and sometimes masked performers, appear. The performance is accompanied by orchestral music, certain stringed instruments of which are only played by women. Some of the representations are given at night behind a white curtain, and resemble what, with us, are called, “shadow pantomimes;” these are performed mostly by females, and often last all night, breaking up, at times, as late as six in the morning.
At all Javanese fetes, music is played, and every native is expected to entertain such wandering musicians as apply to him. A refusal is apt to cost dearly, as the irate musicians stone the dwelling of the obdurate one.[203]
M. Scherzer, connected with the Austrian Round-the-world expedition in 1857 (in the frigate Novara), was not highly delighted with the Javanese pantomime dancing and music;[204] he says:
“Conversation was carried on with difficulty, for an incessant and stupefying noise was kept up with the gammelong, or orchestra of bells. Bayaderes, very scantily clothed, and excessively ugly, executed sentimental and religious dances of a most tedious description.
Stiff, slow, and thin, these damsels jumped like forks, with motions as graceful as those of old semaphores. The governor was kind enough to explain to us, that the dance was meant to represent the touching history of four sisters, who, lost in the forest, implored from the divinity the return of their mother.
This was followed by another choregraphic entertainment, a dance of eight warriors, accompanied by the perpetual gammelong. The same delectable music, delighted the ears of those who were without in the court-yard. Hideous masks, on foot and on horseback, circulated there amidst the crowd; a Mussulman priest was also howling fearfully, as he danced on hot ashes, near to a mass of burning wood; others jumped in and danced away frantically. At last the priest himself joined them, and the shouts and gesticulations became furious. This representation had probably some signification of religious expiation, at least it would have been deemed as such in ancient mysteries.”