Page:History of West Australia.djvu/36

 24 The women beat their hands upon the drum over their knees. Perhaps the natives have dogs, and these stretch themselves near the group and show their approval by occasional subdued whines. The chant is modulated and is in perfect time. At first soft and slow, it gradually becomes fast and furious, until it is a heartrending shriek, and ends in a prolonged cadence of vowel sounds. Rapidly the excitement becomes intense, and every nerve is strung to the utmost limit. The spontaneous passion of the natives rises at every instant, and all eyes are keenly bent on what is to follow, and every simple mind is concentrated on that one moment of life.

The prelude is ended, but the pitch of excitement does not abate. Presently an eerie, unearthly dirge is opened, again in a subdued strain, and all eyes flash towards the break. It is the battle-dance. Over the boughs, which glitter in the firelight, appear a few long feathers from the tail of the emu; slowly rising into space follows a black headpiece: first the well greased hair, then the forehead shining with perspiration, next two glistening black eyes, fixed and piercing, then the face, which solemnly turns from right to left, and at last the body of a native, armed with club and spears, silently comes into view and looks terribly fierce and martial. No sound is heard other than the subdued chant of the men and women. The warrior glides along the back of the break in slow and cautious steps and approaches the arena. A row of faces arise in precisely the same order over the boughs, until perhaps forty or fifty splendid specimens of active life glide before the fire. They stand in a long line, and then, all following the leader, form columns and squares with minute exactness, keeping time to the music of the women with their feet. The chant grows louder and louder and faster. The climax is reached. Clubs are swung swiftly round their heads, and spears and shields are struck. Savage yells and shrieks pierce the air, and the woods re-echo with the din of the untamed warriors as they spring from side to side and strike and thrust at an imaginary enemy. The red and white pigments on their bodies glisten and present in their rapid movements a medley of colour. Each wild onlooker thrills through and through and is almost exhausted with excitement. When the last club is swung and the last spear is at rest all vociferously applaud, showering their approval on the actors, and glancing delightedly at each other. Such a trying exhibition demands a few minutes' interval, and, chattering together, they rest.

The next act represents the hunting of the kangaroo. One native personates the shy retiring marsupial, a second the hunter. Out of the darkness the animal comes hopping, back half erect, arms a little lifted, hands drooping to represent the paws, glancing timidly from side to side. In the centre of the vista he stops, stoops, and crops the grass. The hunter appears, armed with spear, and hatchet placed in the girdle round his waist. He approaches cautiously and catches sight of the kangaroo. Placing easily, and with the least possible movement, the spear in the throwing-stick, he keeps his bright eyes fixed on the marsupial. From time to time the kangaroo rises from its stooping posture, stands half erect with drooping paws, and looks anxiously to right and left, afraid of danger. Then hopping a few feet further on he grazes. The hunter is immovable while this proceeds, but when his prey's attention is occupied in feeding, he draws nearer and nearer, intent on leaving no opportunity escape to secure the animal. Without taking his eyes from the unsuspecting kangaroo he approaches in a half circle. When within throwing distance the spear is hurled and the scene ends. Again peals of applause ring out, for the native is almost as fond of watching the hunt as the fight.

A frog dance, and what may be termed a shivering dance, are presented, and in the small hours of the morning the corroboree concludes. Both performers and audience are wearied and are soon asleep. Again the night is still.

Corroborees are frequently held several nights in succession, and in the more populated districts are attended by large numbers of natives. They are celebrated in times of peace, on the eve of and after wars, and upon the occasions of feasts. Sometimes the women take active part in the celebration, and two bands of them surround the men. Advancing and retreating, each waves a stick in her hand, like "the thyrsus of the ancient Bacchante." The words and dances are carried from tribe to tribe, and it has even been said that songs and dances common to Eastern Australia have been presented in the West. Certain songs and dances composed by some native genius occasionally become very popular and spread rapidly throughout the countryside, and are chanted at every wooded corner.

The natives are so fond of singing that they chant on any and every occasion. Grey says:—"To a sulky old native, his song is what a quid of tobacco is to a sailor; is he angry, he sings,—is he glad, he sings,—is he hungry, he sings,—if he is not so full as to be in a state of stupor, he sings more lustily than ever!" Their songs, which may be rude and discordant enough to Europeans, are sweeter than the carolling of the nightingale to them. Singing is their fruitful resource at every turn of life, and the responsive native mind is affected intensely by wild chants and dirges. Old hags in their weird songs, composed under the excitement of the moment, can stir the men up to the highest pitches of frenzy and revenge. The effect is not so much caused by the words as by the energy and venomous expression of the singer, for the sound and meaning pass as quickly as the torrent, and stir every fibre and instinct of the listener. So responsive is the untutored native mind to music that European instruments have quickly affected them to tears by some dulcet refrain, and little children at native burials, who are too young to understand the solemnity of the occasion, unconsciously weep under the effect of their elders' mournful dirges. The clapping of hands, beating of sticks and opossum skins, are the only accompaniments to their singing. Rhyme and measured cadence are generally carefully preserved.

Our examples of native poetry are taken from Captain Grey's work on the aborigines. The native who comes into the camp in a passion caused by some wrong does not fly to the lawyer as the Englishman would do. He sits before his fire sharpens his spear, and sings

His wives chime in

which excites their lord and master still more, and he chants in monotonous tones:—