CHAPTER III.

THE MORESCA--ARMED DANCE OF THE CORSICANS.

The Corsicans, like other brave peoples of fiery and imaginative temperament, have a war-dance, called the Moresca. Its origin is matter of dispute--some asserting it to be Moorish and others Greek. The Greeks called these dances of warlike youths, armed with sword and shield, Pyrrhic dances; and ascribed their invention to Minerva, and Pyrrhus, the son of Achilles. It is uncertain how they spread themselves over the more western countries; but, ever since the struggles of the Christians and Moors, they have been called Moresca; and it appears that they are everywhere practised where the people are rich in traditions of that old gigantic, world-historical contest between Christian and Pagan, Europe and Asia,--as among the Albanians in Greece, among the Servians, the Montenegrins, the Spaniards, and other nations.

I do not know what significance is elsewhere attached to the Moresca, as I have only once, in Genoa, witnessed this magnificent dance; but in Corsica it has all along preserved peculiarities attaching to the period of the Crusades, the Moresca there always representing a conflict between Saracens and Christians; the deliverance of Jerusalem, perhaps, or the conquest of Granada, or the taking of the Corsican cities Aleria and Mariana, by Hugo Count Colonna. The Moresca has thus assumed a half religious, half profane character, and has received from its historical relations a distinctive and national impress.

The Corsicans have at all times produced the spectacle of this dance, particularly in times of popular excitement and struggle, when a national armed sport of this kind was likely of itself to inflame the beholders, while at the same time it reminded them of the great deeds of their forefathers. I know of no nobler pleasure for a free and manly people, than the spectacle of the Moresca, the flower and poetry of the mood that prompts to and exults in fight. It is the only national drama the Corsicans have; as they were without other amusement, they had the heroic deeds of their ancestors represented to them in dance, on the same soil that they had steeped in their blood. It might frequently happen that they rose from the Moresca to rush into battle.

Vescovato, as Filippini mentions, was often the theatre of the Moresca. The people still remember that it was danced there in honour of Sampiero; it was also produced in Vescovato in the time of Paoli. The most recent performance is that of the year 1817.

The representation of the conquest of Mariana, by Hugo Colonna, was that most in favour. A village was supposed to represent the town. The stage was a piece of open ground, the green hills served as amphitheatre, and on their sides lay thousands and thousands, gathered from all parts of the island. Let the reader picture to himself such a public as this--rude, fierce men, all in arms, grouped under the chestnuts, with look, voice, and gesture accompanying the clanging hero-dance. The actors, sometimes two hundred in number, are in two separate troops; all wear the Roman toga. Each dancer holds in his right hand a sword, in his left a dagger; the colour of the plume and the breastplate alone distinguish Moors from Christians. The fiddle-bow of a single violin-player rules the Moresca.

It begins. A Moorish astrologer issues from Mariana dressed in the caftan, and with a long white beard; he looks to the sky and consults the heavenly luminaries, and in dismay he predicts misfortune. With gestures of alarm he hastens back within the gate. And see! yonder comes a Moorish messenger, headlong terror in look and movement, rushing towards Mariana with the news that the Christians have already taken Aleria and Corte, and are marching on Mariana. Just as the messenger vanishes within the city, horns blow, and enter Hugo Colonna with the Christian army. Exulting shouts greet him from the hills.

Hugo, Hugo, Count Colonna, O how gloriously he dances! Dances like the kingly tiger Leaping o'er the desert rocks.

High his sword lifts Count Colonna, On its hilt the cross he kisses, Then unto his valiant warriors Thus he speaks, the Christian knight:

On in storm for Christ and country! Up the walls of Mariana Dancing, lead to-day the Moorish Infidels a dance of death!

Know that all who fall in battle, For the good cause fighting bravely, Shall to-day in heaven mingle With the blessed angel-choirs.

The Christians take their position. Flourish of horns. The Moorish king, Nugalone, and his host issue from Mariana.

Nugalone, O how lightly, O how gloriously he dances! Like the tawny spotted panther, When he dances from his lair.

With his left hand, Nugalone Curls his moustache, dark and glossy: Then unto his Paynim warriors Thus he speaks, the haughty Moor:

Forward! in the name of Allah! Dance them down, the dogs of Christians! Show them, as we dance to victory, Allah is the only God!

Know that all who fall in battle, Shall to-day in Eden's garden With the fair immortal maidens Dance the rapturous houri-dance.

The two armies now file off--the Moorish king gives the signal for battle, and the figures of the dance begin; there are twelve of them.

Louder music, sharper, clearer! Nugalone and Colonna Onward to the charge are springing, Onward dance their charging hosts.

Lightly to the ruling music Youthful limbs are rising, falling, Swaying, bending, like the flower-stalks, To the music of the breeze.

Now they meet, now gleam the weapons, Lightly swung, and lightly parried; Are they swords, or are they sunbeams-- Sunbeams glittering in their hands?

Tones of viol, bolder, fuller!-- Clash and clang of crossing weapons, Varied tramp of changing movement, Backward, forward, fast and slow.

Now they dance in circle wheeling, Moor and Christian intermingled;-- See, the chain of swords is broken, And in crescents they retire!

Wilder, wilder, the Moresca-- Furious now the sounding onset, Like the rush of mad sea-billows, To the music of the storm.

Quit thee bravely, stout Colonna, Drive the Paynim crew before thee; We must win our country's freedom In the battle-dance to-day.

Thus we'll dance down all our tyrants-- Thus we'll dance thy routed armies Down the hills of Vescovato, Heaven-accurséd Genoa!

--still new evolutions, till at length they dance the last figure, called the _resa_, and the Saracen yields.

When I saw the Moresca in Genoa, it was being performed in honour of the Sardinian constitution, on its anniversary day, May the 9th; for the beautiful dance has in Italy a revolutionary significance, and is everywhere forbidden except where the government is liberal. The people in their picturesque costumes, particularly the women in their long white veils, covering the esplanade at the quay, presented a magnificent spectacle. About thirty young men, all in a white dress fitting tightly to the body; one party with green, the other with red scarfs round the waist, danced the Moresca to an accompaniment of horns and trumpets. They all had rapiers in each hand; and as they danced the various movements, they struck the weapons against each other. This Moresca appeared to have no historical reference.

The Corsicans, like the Spaniards, have also preserved the old theatrical representations of the sufferings of our Saviour; they are now, however, seldom given. In the year 1808, a spectacle of this kind was produced in Orezza, before ten thousand people. Tents represented the houses of Pilate, Herod, and Caiaphas. There were angels, and there were devils who ascended through a trap-door. Pilate's wife was a young fellow of twenty-three, with a coal-black beard. The commander of the Roman soldiery wore the uniform of the French national guards, with a colonel's epaulettes of gold and silver; the officer second in command wore an infantry uniform, and both had the cross of the Legion of Honour on their breast. A priest, the curato of Carcheto, played the part of Judas. As the piece was commencing, a disturbance arose from some unknown cause among the spectators, who bombarded each other with pieces of rock, with which they supplied themselves from the natural amphitheatre.

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