Various - Modern Prose And Poetry; For Secondary Schools

V >> Various >> Modern Prose And Poetry; For Secondary Schools

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22

In the centre of the court is a framework of bamboo supporting a great
drum; and about it benches have been arranged, benches from the
schoolhouse, on which the villagers are resting. There is a hum of
voices, voices of people speaking very low, as if expecting something
solemn; and cries of children betimes, and soft laughter of girls. And
far behind the court, beyond a low hedge of sombre evergreen shrubs, I
see soft white lights and a host of tall gray shapes throwing long
shadows; and I know that the lights are the _white_ lanterns of the dead
(those hung in cemeteries only), and that the gray shapes are the shapes
of tombs.

Suddenly a girl rises from her seat, and taps the huge drum once. It is
the signal for the Dance of Souls.

II

Out of the shadow of the temple a professional line of dancers files
into the moonlight and as suddenly halts,--all young women or girls,
clad in their choicest attire; the tallest leads; her comrades follow in
order of stature. Little maids of ten or twelve years compose the end of
the procession. 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 drooping sleeves, and the curious broad girdles
confining them, designed after the drawing of some Greek or Etruscan
artist. And, at another tap of the drum, there begins a performance
impossible to picture in words, something unimaginable, phantasmal,--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 a
strange floating motion and a smiling, mysterious obeisance. Then the
right foot is drawn back, with a repetition of the waving of hands and
the mysterious bow. Then all advance the left foot and repeat the
previous movements, half-turning to the left. Then all take two gliding
paces forward, with a single simultaneous soft clap of the hands, and
the first performance is reiterated, alternately to the right and left;
all the sandaled feet gliding together, all the supple hands waving
together, all the pliant bodies bowing and swaying together. And so
slowly, weirdly, the processional movement changes into a great round,
circling about the moon-lit 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 elfish sleeves hover duskily
together, with a shadowing as of wings; and all the feet poise together
with such a rhythm of complex motion, that, in watching it, one feels a
sensation of hypnotism--as while striving to watch a flowing and
shimmering of water.

And this soporous allurement is intensified by a dead hush. No one
speaks, not even a spectator. And, in the long intervals 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 dust. Unto
what, I ask myself, may this be likened? Unto nothing; yet it suggests
some fancy of somnambulism,--dreamers, who dream themselves flying,
dreaming upon their feet.

And there comes to me the thought that I am looking at something
immemorially old, something belonging to the unrecorded beginning of
this Oriental life, perhaps to the crepuscular Kamiyo itself, to the
magical Age of the Gods; a symbolism of motion whereof the meaning has
been forgotten for innumerable years. Yet more and more unreal the
spectacle appears, with silent smilings, with its silent bowings, as if
obeisance to watchers invisible; and I find myself wondering whether,
were I to utter but a whisper, all would not vanish forever, save the
gray mouldering court and the desolate temple, and the broken statue of
Jizo, smiling always the same mysterious smile I see upon the faces of
the dancers.

Under the wheeling moon, in the midst of the round, I feel as one within
the circle of a charm. And verily, this is enchantment; I am bewitched,
by the ghostly weaving of hands, by the rhythmic gliding of feet, above
all by the flittering of the marvellous sleeves--apparitional,
soundless, velvety as a flitting of great tropical bats. No; nothing I
ever dreamed of could be likened to this. And with the consciousness of
the ancient hakaba behind me, and the weird invitation of its lanterns,
and the ghostly beliefs of the hour and the place, there creeps upon me
a nameless, tingling sense of being haunted. But no! these gracious,
silent, waving, weaving shapes are not of the Shadowy Folk, for whose
coming the white fires were kindled: a strain of song, full of sweet,
clear quavering, like the call of a bird, gushes from some girlish
mouth, and fifty soft voices join the chant:--

_Sorota soroimashita odorikoga sorota,
Soroikita, kita hare yukata._

"Uniform to view [as ears of young rice ripening in the field] all clad
alike in summer 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 hovering measure proceeds in silence,
with mesmeric lentor,--with a strange grace, which by its very naivete,
seems as old as the encircling hills.

Those who sleep the sleep of centuries out there, under the gray stones
where the white lanterns are, and their fathers, and the fathers of
their fathers' fathers, and the unknown generations behind them, buried
in cemeteries of which the place has been forgotten for a thousand
years, doubtless looked upon a scene like this. Nay! the dust stirred by
those young feet was human life, and so smiled and so sang under this
self-same moon, "with woven paces and with waving hands."

Suddenly a deep male chant breaks the hush. Two giants have joined the
round, and now lead it, two superb young mountain peasants nearly nude,
towering head and shoulders above the whole of the assembly. Their
kimono are rolled about their waists like girdles, leaving their bronzed
limbs and torsos naked to the warm air; they wear nothing else save
their immense straw hats, and white tabi, donned expressly for the
festival. Never before among these people saw I such men, such thews;
but their smiling beardless faces are comely and kindly as those of
Japanese boys. They seem brothers, so like in frame, in movement, in the
timbre of their voices, as they intone the same song:--

_No demo yama demo ko wa umiokeyo,
Sen ryo kura yori ko ga takara._

"Whether brought forth upon the mountain or in the field, it matters
nothing: more than a treasure of one thousand ryo, a baby precious is."

And Jizo, the lover of children's ghosts, smiles across the silence.

Souls close to nature's Soul are these; artless and touching their
thought, like the worship of that Kishibojin to whom wives pray. And
after the silence, the sweet thin voices of the women answer:--

_Oomu otoko ni sowa sanu oya wa,
Oyade gozaranu ko no kataki._

"The parents who will not allow their girl to be united with her lover;
they are not the parents, but the enemies of their child."

And song follows song; and the round ever becomes larger; and the hours
pass unfelt, unheard, while the moon wheels slowly down the blue steeps
of the night.

A deep low boom rolls suddenly across the court, the rich tone of some
temple bell telling the twelfth hour. Instantly the witchcraft ends,
like the wonder of some dream broken by a sound; the chanting ceases;
the round dissolves in an outburst of happy laughter, and chatting, and
softly-voweled callings of flower-names which are names of girls, and
farewell cries of "Sayonara!" as dancers and spectators alike betake
themselves homeward, with a great _koro-koro_ of getas.

And I, moving with the throng, in the bewildered manner of one suddenly
roused from sleep, know myself ungrateful. These silvery-laughing folk
who now toddle along beside me upon their noisy little clogs, stepping
very fast to get a peep at my foreign face, these but a moment ago were
visions of archaic grace, illusions of necromancy, delightful phantoms;
and I feel a vague resentment against them for thus materializing into
simple country-girls.

NOTES

Lafcadio Hearn, the author of this selection, took a four days' journey
in a jinrikisha to the remote country district which he describes. He is
almost the only foreigner who has ever entered the village.

=Bon-odori=:--The dance in honor of the dead.

=Hiroshige=:--A Japanese landscape painter of an early date.

=kuruma=:--A jinrikisha; a two-wheeled cart drawn by a man.

=hibachi=:--(hi bae' chi) A brazier.

=Bonku=:--The Festival of the Dead.

=The memory of tropical dances=:--Lafcadio Hearn had previously spent
some years in the West Indies.

=Akira=:--The name of the guide who has drawn the kuruma in which the
foreigner has come to the village. (See page 18 of _Glimpses of
Unfamiliar Japan_.)

=yukata=:--Pronounced _yu kae' ta._

=geta=:--Pronounced _g[=e][=e]' ta_, not _j[=e][=e]' ta;_ high noisy
wooden clogs. (See page 10 of _Glimpses of Unfamiliar Japan_.)

=Buddhist=:--One who believes in the doctrines of Gautama Siddartha, a
religious teacher of the sixth century before Christ.

=Buddha=:--A statue representing the Buddha Siddartha in a very calm
position, usually sitting cross-legged.

=Bodhisattvas=:--Pronounced _b[=o] di saeht' vas;_ gods who have almost
attained the perfection of Buddha (Gautama Siddartha).

=Jizo=:--A Japanese God. See page 297.

=Etruscan=:--Relating to Etruria, a division of ancient Italy. Etruscan
vases have graceful figures upon them.

=soporous=:--Drowsy; sleep-producing.

=crepuscular=:--Relating to twilight.

=Kamiyo=:--The Age of the Gods in Japan.

=hakaba=:--Cemetery.

=lentor=:--Slowness.

="with woven paces,"= etc. See Tennyson's _Idylls of the King_: "With
woven paces and with waving arms."

=tabi=:--White stockings with a division for the great toe.

=ryo=:--About fifty cents.

=Kishibojin=:--Pronounced _ki shi b[=o]' jin._ (See page 96 of _Glimpses
of Unfamiliar Japan_.)

=Sayonara=:--Good-bye.

SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY

Read the selection through rather slowly. Do not be alarmed at the
Japanese names: they are usually pronounced as they are spelled. Perhaps
your teacher will be able to show you a Japanese print; at least you can
see on a Japanese fan quaint villages such as are here described. What
sort of face has the host? How does this Japanese inn differ from the
American hotel? Does there seem to be much furniture? If the Americans
had the same sense of beauty that the Japanese have, what changes would
be made in most houses? Why does the foreign influence make the Japanese
manufactures "uninteresting" and "detestable"? If you have been in a
shop where Japanese wares are sold, tell what seemed most striking about
the objects and their decoration. What is meant by "the landscape of a
tea-cup"? Why does the author say so much about the remoteness of the
village? See how the author uses picture-words and sound-words to make
his description vivid. Note his use of contrasts. Why does he preface
his account of the dance by the remark that it cannot be described in
words? Is this a good method? How does the author make you feel the
swing and rhythm of the dance? Do not try to pronounce the Japanese
verses: Notice that they are translated. Why are the Japanese lines put
in at all? Why does the author say that he is ungrateful at the last?
Try to tell in a few sentences what are the good qualities of this
selection. Make a little list of the devices that the author has used in
order to make his descriptions vivid and his narration lively. Can you
apply some of his methods to a short description of your own?

THEME SUBJECTS

A Flower Festival
A Pageant
The May Fete
Dancing out of Doors
A Lawn Social
The Old Settlers' Picnic
The Russian Dancers
A Moonlight Picnic
Children's Games in the Yard
Some Japanese People that I have Seen
Japanese Students in our Schools
Japanese Furniture
An Oriental Store in our Town
My Idea of Japan
Japanese Pictures
A Street Carnival
An Old-fashioned Square Dance
The Revival of Folk-Dancing
The Girls' Drill
A Walk in the Village at Night
Why We have Ugly Things in our Houses
Do we have too much Furniture in our Houses?
What we can Learn from the Japanese

SUGGESTIONS FOR WRITING

=An Evening Walk in the Village=:--Imagine yourself taking a walk
through the village at nightfall. Tell of the time of day, the season,
and the weather. Make your reader feel the approach of darkness, and the
heat, or the coolness, or the chill of the air. What signs do you see
about you, of the close of day? Can you make the reader feel the
contrast of the lights and the surrounding darkness? As you walk along,
what sounds do you hear? What activities are going on? Can you catch any
glimpses, through the windows, of the family life inside the houses? Do
you see people eating or drinking? Do you see any children? Are the
scenes about you quiet and restful, or are they confused and irritating?
Make use of any incidents that you can to complete your description of
the village as you see it in your walk. Perhaps you will wish to close
your theme with your entering a house, or your advance into the dark
open country beyond the village.

=My Idea of Japan=:--Suppose that you were suddenly transported to a
small town in Japan: What would be your first impression? Tell what you
would expect to see. Speak of the houses, the gardens, and the temples.
Tell about the shops, and booths, and the wares that are for sale.
Describe the dress and appearance of the Japanese men; of the women; the
children. Speak of the coolies, or working-people; the foreigners.
Perhaps you can imagine yourself taking a ride in a _jinrikisha_. Tell
of the amusing or extraordinary things that you see, and make use of
incidents and conversation. Bring out the contrasts between Japan and
your own country.

=A Dance or Drill=:--Think of some drill or dance or complicated game
that you have seen, which lends itself to the kind of description in the
selection. In your work, try to emphasize the contrast between the
background and the moving figures; the effects of light and darkness;
the sound of music and voices; the sway and rhythm of the action.
Re-read parts of _The Dance of the Bon-odori_, to see what devices the
author has used in order to bring out effects of sound and rhythm.

COLLATERAL READINGS

Glimpses of Unfamiliar Japan Lafcadio Hearn
Out of the East " "
Kokoro " "
Kwaidan " "
A Japanese Miscellany " "
Two Years in the French West Indies " "
Japanese Life in Town and Country G.W. Knox
Our Neighbors the Japanese J.K. Goodrich
When I Was Young Yoshio Markino
Miss John Bull " "
When I Was a Boy in Japan Sakae Shioya
Japanese Girls and Women Alice M. Bacon
A Japanese Interior " "
Japonica Sir Edwin Arnold
Japan W.E. Griffis
Human Bullets Tadayoshy Sukurai
The Story of Japan R. Van Bergen
A Boy in Old Japan " "
Letters from Japan Mrs. Hugh Frazer
Unbeaten Tracks in Japan Isabella Bird (Bishop)
The Lady of the Decoration Frances Little
Little Sister Snow " "
Japan in Pictures Douglas Sladen
Old and New Japan (good illustrations in color) Clive Holland
Nogi Stanley Washburn
Japan, the Eastern Wonderland D.C. Angus
Peeps at Many Lands: Japan John Finnemore
Japan Described by Great Writers Esther Singleton
The Flower of Old Japan [verse] Alfred Noyes
Dancing and Dancers of To-day Caroline and Chas. H.
Coffin
The Healthful Art of Dancing L.H. Gulick
The Festival Book J.E.C. Lincoln
Folk Dances Caroline Crawford
Lafcadio Hearn Nina H. Kennard
Lafcadio Hearn (Portrait) Edward Thomas
The Life and Letters of Lafcadio Hearn Elizabeth Bisland
The Japanese Letters of Lafcadio Hearn " "
Lafcadio Hearn in Japan Yone Noguchi
Lafcadio Hearn (Portraits) Current Literature 42:50

LETTERS

THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH TO WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS

PONKAPOG, MASS., Dec. 13, 1875.

DEAR HOWELLS,--We had so charming a visit at your house that I
have about made up my mind to reside with you permanently. I am tired of
writing. I would like to settle down in just such a comfortable home as
yours, with a man who can work regularly four or five hours a day,
thereby relieving one of all painful apprehensions in respect to clothes
and pocket-money. I am easy to get along with. I have few unreasonable
wants and never complain when they are constantly supplied. I think I
could depend on you.

Ever yours,
T.B.A.

P.S.--I should want to bring my two mothers, my two boys (I seem to have
everything in twos), my wife, and her sister.

THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH TO E.S. MORSE

DEAR MR. MORSE:

It was very pleasant to me to get a letter from you the other day.
Perhaps I should have found it pleasanter if I had been able to decipher
it. I don't think that I mastered anything beyond the date (which I
knew) and the signature (at which I guessed).

There's a singular and perpetual charm in a letter of yours--it never
grows old; it never loses its novelty. One can say to one's self every
morning: "There's that letter of Morse's. I haven't read it yet. I think
I'll take another shy at it to-day, and maybe I shall be able in the
course of a few days to make out what he means by those _t_'s that look
like _w_'s, and those _i_'s that haven't any eyebrows."

Other letters are read, and thrown away, and forgotten; but yours are
kept forever--unread. One of them will last a reasonable man a lifetime.

Admiringly yours,
T.B. ALDRICH.

WILLIAM VAUGHN MOODY TO JOSEPHINE PRESTON PEABODY

THE QUADRANGLE CLUB,
CHICAGO, September 30, '99.

Your generous praise makes me rather shamefaced: you ought to keep it
for something that counts. At least other people ought: you would find a
bright ringing word, and the proportion of things would be kept. As for
me, I am doing my best to keep the proportion of things, in the midst of
no-standards and a dreary dingy fog-expanse of darkened counsel. Bah!
here I am whining in my third sentence, and the purpose of this note was
not to whine, but to thank you for heart new-taken. I take the friendly
words (for I need them cruelly) and forget the inadequate occasion of
them. I am looking forward with almost feverish pleasure to the new
year, when I shall be among friendships which time and absence and
half-estrangements have only made to shine with a more inward light; and
when, so accompanied, I can make shift to think and live a little. Do
not wait till then to say Welcome.

W.V.M.

BRET HARTE TO HIS WIFE

LAWRENCE, KANSAS,
October 24, 1873.

MY DEAR ANNA,--

I left Topeka--which sounds like a name Franky might have
invented--early yesterday morning, but did not reach Atchison, only
sixty miles distant, until seven o'clock at night--an hour before the
lecture. The engine as usual had broken down, and left me at four
o'clock fifteen miles from Atchison, on the edge of a bleak prairie with
only one house in sight. But I got a saddle-horse--there was no vehicle
to be had--and strapping my lecture and blanket to my back I gave my
valise to a little yellow boy--who looked like a dirty terra-cotta
figure--with orders to follow me on another horse, and so tore off
towards Atchison. I got there in time; the boy reached there two hours
after.

I make no comment; you can imagine the half-sick, utterly disgusted man
who glared at that audience over his desk that night.... And yet it was
a good audience, thoroughly refined and appreciative, and very glad to
see me. I was very anxious about this lecture, for it was a venture of
my own, and I had been told that Atchison was a rough place--energetic
but coarse. I think I wrote you from St. Louis that I had found there
were only three actual engagements in Kansas, and that my list which
gave Kansas City twice was a mistake. So I decided to take Atchison. I
made a hundred dollars by the lecture, and it is yours, for yourself,
Nan, to buy "Minxes" with, if you want, for it is over and above the
amount Eliza and I footed up on my lecture list. I shall send it to you
as soon as the bulk of the pressing claims are settled.

Everything thus far has gone well; besides my lecture of to-night I have
one more to close Kansas, and then I go on to St. Joseph. I've been
greatly touched with the very honest and sincere liking which these
Western people seem to have for me. They seem to have read everything I
have written--and appear to appreciate the best. Think of a rough fellow
in a bearskin coat and blue shirt repeating to me _Concepcion de
Arguello_! Their strange good taste and refinement under that rough
exterior--even their tact--are wonderful to me. They are "Kentucks" and
"Dick Bullens" with twice the refinement and tenderness of their
California brethren....

I've seen but one [woman] that interested me--an old negro wench. She
was talking and laughing outside my door the other evening, but her
laugh was so sweet and unctuous and musical--so full of breadth and
goodness that I went outside and talked to her while she was scrubbing
the stones. She laughed as a canary bird sings--because she couldn't
help it. It did me a world of good, for it was before the lecture, at
twilight, when I am very blue and low-toned. She had been a slave.

I expected to have heard from you here. I've nothing from you or Eliza
since last Friday, when I got yours of the 12th. I shall direct this to
Eliza's care, as I do not even know where you are.

Your affectionate
FRANK.

LAFCADIO HEARN TO BASIL HALL CHAMBERLAIN

[KUMAMOTO, JAPAN]
January 17, 1893.

DEAR CHAMBERLAIN,--

I'm writing just because I feel lonesome; isn't that selfish? However,
if I can amuse you at all, you will forgive me. You have been away a
whole year,--so perhaps you would like to hear some impressions of mine
during that time. Here goes.

The illusions are forever over; but the memory of many pleasant things
remains. I know much more about the Japanese than I did a year ago; and
still I am far from understanding them well. Even my own little wife is
somewhat mysterious still to me, though always in a lovable way. Of
course a man and woman know each other's hearts; but outside of personal
knowledge, there are race tendencies difficult to understand. Let me
tell one. In Oki we fell in love with a little Samurai boy, who was
having a hard time of it, and we took him with us. He is now like an
adopted son,--goes to school and all that. Well, I wished at first to
pet him a little, but I found that was not in accordance with custom,
and that even the boy did not understand it. At home, I therefore
scarcely spoke to him at all; he remained under the control of the women
of the house. They treated him kindly,--though I thought coldly. The
relationship I could not quite understand. He was never praised and
rarely scolded. A perfect code of etiquette was established between him
and all the other persons in the house, according to degree and rank. He
seemed extremely cold-mannered, and perhaps not even grateful, that was,
so far as I could see. Nothing seemed to move his young
placidity,--whether happy or unhappy his mien was exactly that of a
stone Jizo. One day he let fall a little cup and broke it. According to
custom, no one noticed the mistake, for fear of giving him pain.
Suddenly I saw tears streaming down his face. The muscles of the face
remained quite smilingly placid as usual, but even the will could not
control tears. They came freely. Then everybody laughed, and said kind
things to him, till he began to laugh too. Yet that delicate
sensitiveness no one like me could have guessed the existence of.

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22