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The Badminton Library
OF
SPORTS AND PASTIMES
EDITED BY
HIS GRACE THE (EIGHTH) DUKE OF BEAUFORT, K.G.
ASSISTED BY ALFRED E. T. WATSON
DANCING
SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY, 1820
DANCING
BY
MRS.
AND OTHER WRITERS
WITH MUSICAL EXAMPLES
ILLUSTRATED BY PERCY MACQUOID
AND BY NUMEROUS REPRODUCTIONS OF ENGRAVINGS
PRINTS AND PHOTOGRAPHS
New Impression
LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.
39 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON
BOMBAY AND CALCUTTA
1907
Al rights reserved
BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE
.
First Edition, November
1895.
Cheaper Reissue, July
1901.
Reprinted April
1907.
Badminton
:
May
1885.
Having
received permission to dedicate these volumes, the
Badminton Library
of
Sports
and
Pastimes
, to
His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales
, I do so feeling that I am dedicating them to one of the best and keenest sportsmen of our time. I can say, from personal observation, that there is no man who can extricate himself from a bustling and pushing crowd of horsemen, when a fox breaks covert, more dexterously and quickly than His Royal Highness; and that when hounds run hard over a big country, no man can take a line of his own and live with them better. Also, when the wind has been blowing hard, often have I seen His Royal Highness knocking over driven grouse and partridges and high-rocketing pheasants in first-rate
BEAUFORT.
BADMINTON
A few lines
only are necessary to explain the object with which these volumes are put forth. At the time when the Badminton Library was started no modern encyclopædia existed to which the inexperienced man, who sought guidance in the practice of the various British Sports and Pastimes, could turn for information. Some books there were on Hunting, some on Racing, some on Lawn Tennis, some on Fishing, and so on; but one Library, or succession of volumes, which treated of the Sports and Pastimes indulged in by Englishmen—and women—was wanting. The Badminton Library was produced to supply the want. Of the imperfections
To those who have worked hard to place simply and clearly before the reader that which he will find within the best thanks of the Editor are due. That it has been no slight labour to supervise all that has been written he must acknowledge; but it has been a labour of love, and very much lightened by the courtesy of the Publisher, by the unflinching, indefatigable assistance of the SubEditor, and by the intelligent and able arrangement of each subject by the various writers, who are so thoroughly masters of the subjects of which they treat. The reward we all hope to reap is that our work may prove useful to this and future generations.
BEAUFORT.
CHAPTER
I.
Introduction
II.
The Dances of Antiquity
III.
The Dances of Savages
IV.
The Ritual Dance
V.
English Dances
VI.
The Dance in Scotland, Ireland, and Wales
VII.
Gipsy, Hungarian, Bohemian, Russian, and Polish Dances
VIII.
The Dance in France
IX.
The Dance in Germany, Holland, Belgium, Scandinavia, and Lapland
X.
The Dance in Portugal, Spain, and Italy
XI.
The Dances of the East: India, Persia, China, Japan
XII.
The Ballet
XIII.
The Practical Use of Dancing
From Notes by Mrs. Wordsworth.
XIV.
Time and Rhythm of the Dance
By Miss Middleton
XV.
A Retrospect
By the Honourable Mrs. Armytage
XVI.
Balls: Hostesses and Guests
By the Countess of Ancaster.
Description of Dances
Index
(
Reproduced by Messrs. Walker & Boutall
)
FULL PAGE
Sir Roger de Coverley, 1820.
Percy Macquoid.Frontispiece
The Skirt Dance
Percy Macquid
To face p. 6
A Nautch at Bombay
From a Print after Prince Alexis Soltykoff.
Rustic Dance In Holland
From an Engraving after David Teniers
Dancing Girls At An Ancient Egyptian Banquet(Thebes)
From a coloured Eyptian Wall-painting in the British Museum.
The Dance Round The Golden Calf
From an Engraving after Nicholas Poussin.
Salome Before Herod
From an Engraving after Kctrei was Mander.
The Ball-dance In Ancient Greece
Percy Macquoid.
A Ceremony of the ‘clowns’ on The Morning of the Hay-a-masiieque Dance in Zuñi
Walter Fewkes.
Tahitian Dance
Fives an Engraving by P' Bartoloest.
The Maypole
From an Engraving after Joseph Nash.
Milkmaids' Dance On May Day
From the Vauxhall Painting by F. Hayman
To face p. 148
The Cushion Dance, Elizabethan, 1570
Percy Macquoid.
King Charles II. And Princess Elizabeth Dancing At The Hague
From the Picture by Fanssens at Windsor Castle.
The Penny Wedding
From an Engraving after Sir David Wilkie.
Irish Jig
From an Engraving after Wrightson.
Wallachian Soldiers Dancing To Tsigane Accompaniment
From a Print after D. A. M. Raffet.
French Ball, Circa 1660
From an Engraving by Abraham Bosse.
The Pavane At The Court Of Henri III., Circa1580
Percy Macquoid.
A Strange ‘Coranto’
An incident in the life of Claude Duval, after W. P. Frith, R.A.
The Menuet, 1720
Percy Macquoid
The Gavotte, 1780
Percy Macquoid.
Ball Given By Albrecht Iv., Grand Duke Of Bavaria
From an Engraving by Martin Zatzinger, dated 1500.
The Prodigal Son
After Karel van Mander.
The Waltz
Percy Macquoid.
State Ball At Amsterdam, 1768
From an Engraving by R. Vinkeles.
Sword Dance Of Vikings Round The Sacred Horns, Circa 900
Percy Macquoid.
Norwegian Dance
After A. Tidemand
Et. Bolero
From a Print after F. F. Lewis.
The Cardinals Of Narbonne And Of St. Sévern Dancing A Pavane Before Louis Xii. At Milan, 1499
Percy Macquoid.To face p. 332
Saltarello At Rome
From an Engraving after A. C. H. Haudebourt.
Tarantella At Naples
From an Etching by B. Pinelli.
Signora Baccelli
A Dance Fan
The Ballet
Percy Macquoid.
Queen Charlotte's Birth-night Ball At St. James's
From an Engraving after Daniel Dodd.
The Pas De Quatre
Percy Macquoid.
Le Bal Paré
From an Engraving after A. de St. Aubin.
In Text
Vignette
Percy Macquoid.Title
The Dancing Lesson
From an Engraving after P. Canot. 1745.
Venetian Wedding Dance
From a Woodcut by Fost Amman, about 1570.
La Jok—Wallachian Dance
After D.4. M. Raffet, 1837.
Provincial Dance In Italy
From an EEtching by B, Pinelli, 1814.
Trajan Dancing Before The Egyptian Deities
The Dervishes Dancing In Egypt
From an Egraving afterC. N. Cochin, 1787.
GháKeyehs of Rosetta
From a Print after E.. Prisse, 1848.
Dance of Fellahs of Upper Egypt
From a Print after Rifaud.
Mask and Ivory Clappers Found By Professor W. M. Flinders Petrie
Reproduced by permission.
Assyrian Mummers
David Dancing Before The Ark
From an Engraving after Domenichino
Salome Dancing on her Hands Before Herod
From an Illuminated Manuscript of tke Fourteenth Century.
Dance of Apollo and the Muses
From an Engraving after G Giulie Romano
Cyclic or Dithyrambic Chorus Moving Round the Altar of Dionysos
Front Schreiber-Anderson's ‘Atlas of Classical Antiquisties,’ by permission of Messrs. Macmillan & Co. and front the German publisher, Athur Seemann, Leipzig.
The Pyrrhic Chorus
From Sehrelber-Anderson's ‘Atlas of Classical Antiquities,’ by permission of Messrs. Macmillan & Co. and from the German publisher, Arthur Seemann, Leipzig.
Girls Leading Theseus—Dance Of Casos
From an archaic Vase
Girl In Armour, Dancing
From a Greek Vase-painting, about 450 B.C.
Mænads Dancing
Girls Dancing Like Birds
From a Vase-painting
Curetes Dancing And Beating On Their Shields So As To Drown The Cries Of The Infant Zeus
From a Terra-cotta Relief
Dance Of The Island Of Jamaica
From an Engraving after A. Brunais
Buffalo Dance
From Catlin's ‘North American Indian Portfolio.’
Ball-play Dance
From Catlin's ‘North American Indian Portfolio.’
Scalp Dance Of The Dakotas
From ‘Indian Tribes of the United States.’
Bear Dance
From Catlin's ‘North American Indian Portfolio.’
A Dancing-dress In Central Brazil
By permission from Prof. von den Steinen
Snow-shoe Dance
Afghan National Dance.
African Dance of Man and Woman With Sword and Spear
The Kukri Dance At Assam
Miriam's Dance
From an Engraving after William Hensel
Mediæval Dancing Legend
From a Woodcut in the ‘Liber Chronicarum Mundi,’ 1493.
El Baile De Los Seises in the Cathedral Of Seville Before The Holy Sacrament
(After Gustave Doré.) By fpermission of Messrs. Sampson Low, Marston & Co
A Funeral, Jota
(After Gustave Doret.) From Ch. Davillier's ‘Spain,’ by permission of Messrs. Bickers & Son
Dance of Howling Dervishes
From an Engraving after C. N. Cochin, 1787.
Dance of Turning Dervishes
From an Engraving after C. N. Cochin, 1787.
La Tarasque
Sailor's Hornpipe
From an Engraving after F. H. Ramberg, circa 1800.
Tumblers and Jugglers
From Ecclecton's ‘English Antiquities,’ 1847
Kemp's Dancef from London to Norwich In 1599
From a Print (Dated 1794) of a Painted Window Then at Betley, Staffordshire.
Dance of Peasants on May Day
From Queen Mary's Psalter.
The Country Dance
From an Engraving after William Hogarth.
Sword Dance
From Ecclesston's ‘English Antiquitiess 1847.
Scottish Reel
From an Etching by D. Deuchar, 1784.
Scottish Reel
From an Engraving after F. H. Ramberg circa 1800.
A Gipsy Dancing The Vito Sevillano
(After Gustave Dort.) From Ch. Davillier's ‘Spain,’ by permission of Messrs. Beckets & Son.
Gipsy Dance.
From an Engraving after Marie Pie Weigmann.
a
Hungarian CsáRdáAs
From an Engraving after F. H. Ramberg, circa 1800.
Polish Dance
From an Etching by F. A. Atkinson.
Russian Wedding Dance
From an Engraving after F. B. Le Prince, 1767.
Horse Quadrille
Torch Dance at the Court of Burgundy (Anno 1463)
Gaillarde
From the ‘Orchesographie.’
Giving a Hand In a Menuet
From an Engraving after B. Dandridge, 1737.
Lady Giving Both Hands in a Menuet
From an Engraving after B. Dandridge, 1737.
Gentleman ‘Walking’ The Menuet
From an Engraving after Watteau.
The Quadrille.—Figure I : Le Pantalon
From Heath's ‘Northern Looking-Glass,’ 1825.
The Quadrille.—Figure 2: L'eté
From Heath's ‘Northern Looking-Glass,’ 1825.
The Quadrille.—Figure 3: La Poule
From Heath's ‘Northern Looking-Glass,’ 1825.
The Quadrille.—Figure 4: La Trénise
From Heath's ‘Northern Lookings-Glass,’ 1825.
The Quadrille.—Figure 5: La Finale
From Heath's ‘Northern Looking-Glass,’ 1825.
Sixteenth-century Peasants' Dance In Germany
From an Engraving by F. Brunn.
The Ring Dance In Germany, Fifteenth Century
From an Engraving by Israkel van Mackenen.
Peasants Dancing In Germany
From an Engraving after Cornélis Bega, about 1645.
Allemande
From an Engraving after C. Brandoin, 1772.
The Egg Dance in Holland
From an Engraving after Theodor de Bry, 1611.
El Fandango
From a Print by Fean Victor Adam, about 1840.
Siciliana
From an Engraving after E. H. Pingret.
Tambourine Dance
From an Etching by Fungues Callot, about 1633.
Tarantella
From an Engraving by F. Bartolozziq after W. Locke.
An Eastern Woman Dancing Before Her Master
From an Engraving by G. Vitalba, after Francis Smith, 1769.
Nautchees.
First Four Figures Of The Chinese Ritual Dance
From ‘Chinese Music,’ by F. A. van Aulst, Shanghai, 1884.
Chinese Ritual Dance
From ‘Chinese Music,’ by F. A. van Aalst, Shanghai 1884.
Japanese Fan Dance
From a Japanese Painting.
Vestris Dancing The Goose-step
From an Engraving by F. Bartolossi, after George Dance, 1781.
Choregraphy
Greek Dancing Lesson
From a Vase-painting in the British Museum, about 450 B.C.
Grown Ladies Taught To Dance
From an Engraving after F. Collett, circa 1769.
Grown Gentlemen Taught To Dance
From an Engraving afler F. Collett, 1768
Highland Dancing Lesson
From a Print by Frederick Taylor, 1844.
The Dancing Lesson
From an Engraving after F. Heilbuth.
La Zamacueca
Egyptian Clappers
La Danse Dans Le Jardin Du Plaisir
From a manuscript ‘Le Roman de la Rose’ in the British Museum.
An Artistic Group
Graceful Movements—No. 1
Graceful Movements—No. 2.
Cretan Garland Dance
Greek Chain Dance
The First Quadrille At Almack's
Taken from ‘Le Bon Genre’ Prints, published at the end of the eighteenth century.
The Cotillon
After F, Collett.
IF
the Dance cannot be called a sport, it certainly is a pastime; and as the Badminton Library treats of ‘Sports and Pastimes,’ the inclusion of Dancing will be held excusable. Many people will be surprised that the subject could offer sufficient material for a volume, having probably regarded the dance as the amusement of the frivolous: they are apt to resent its appearance on the stage, and would relegate it to the pantomime or the light opera, while the professional dancer is looked upon as one who has sadly misapplied talents which might have won reputation in some worthier path of life. At best dancing is tolerated by many as childish; at worst it is condemned as immoral. This latter feeling is a survival of the Puritanical spirit which has so much to answer for in the suppression of innocent amusements. It was the abuse of the practices which led to the bitter reaction against ‘play-acting, dancing, and other carnal sports;’ a craze carried to such an extent that when Margaret of Valois, who married James V. of Scotland, danced the salta, and died a few days after from consumption, some of the quasipious folk of Edinburgh are said to have ‘regarded her death as a celestial punishment for having gyrated in that naughty French dance.’ In this age, where the current of research is
B
The dance is so general that there is no one who cannot, from his own experience or observation, furnish at least some examples of it, so that there is no need to begin, as in the case of less familiar pastimes, with a definition of the word dancing in its modern acceptation, and as understood in this country. When, however, it comes to a description of the dances of all times and of all peoples, a difficulty arises in making the differentiation between dancing and games, pageants or processions; they are so closely allied and so interwoven with one another that it is often impossible to draw a strict line of demarcation. For my own satisfaction I have resolved to call dancing all such bodily movements as are subject to definite rhythmic rules, and as are performed to an accompaniment of voice, instruments, or even to a mere clapping of hands or stamping of feet. This offers a wide field for inquiry, and will teach us that the dance is not only a pastime, but that in many places and among many races it is a ceremony ‘full of state and ancientry;’ that it often has been, nay, that it yet is to-day, frequently a solemn ritual; that the origin of most dances can be found in religious worship, and that, therefore, both in olden times and among modern peoples who still are of simple faith, it was and is invested with a dignity which it never has had and probably never will have among nations who live in an artificial condition of society.
The dance belongs to all countries and to all ages; it has come down to us through all myths, through all histories, through all religions, in spite of repressive edicts and anathemas; and, though modified by epoch and fashion, like a well-tuned instrument, it echoes always in harmony with its times, it adapts itself to the land of its birth, and it has nevertheless always and everywhere preserved much of its original character.
We may not all agree with Moliere, when he makes the dancing master in ‘Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme’ declare that the destiny of nations depends on the art of dancing, yet many will admit that there is some truth in Washington Irving's remark that the character of a people is often to be learnt from
The Dancing Lesson
(
From an Engraving after P. Canot, 1745
)
In its most usually apprehended sense the dance is the outcome of some form of joy or ecstasy, whether it be displayed by the evolutions of Bacchantes, of ancient Roman priests, of mediaeval Christians, of dancing dervishes, or simply by the natural graceful steps of little children who will move in unconscious rhythm to express their hearts' delight. But there are occasions when the dance is the offspring of pain, sorrow, or fear. Funeral dances and death-bed dances are a world-wide custom. We hear of them in Patagonia, in Abyssinia, and in North America, in the East Indian isles and in the Highlands of Scotland; we read about them in ancient Egypt, and we can see them to-day in Spain, in Ireland, and in the centre of France. We may, therefore, assume that the dance in its most comprehensive spirit is the expression of emotion, and its character is mainly dependent on the power of the heart to feel, especially to feel melody, for the dance and music are ‘a married pair.’ Just as in the human voice there are sounds of love and sounds of anger, sounds of pleasure and sounds of pain, so there are all these characteristics in the various movements of the body and its limbs. It is probable that primitive man vaulted and skipped rather than danced, just as when he emitted vehement or plaintive sounds he produced screams instead of songs; but all dances, even the very earliest, have had a rhythmic accompaniment, from the mere knocking of two shells against one another to the hackneyed tune on the dancing master's kit, from the first measure beaten out to the sound of some quaint drum to the latest waltz performed by a full band of wind and stringed instruments.
Formerly the same people danced and sang simultaneously, and now and again we still find this the case, but as a rule it is considered preferable that some should make music while the others dance. This division of labour probably occasioned the frequent custom of the vocal accompaniment to popular dances
It would be grossly unfair not to acknowledge that within the last quarter of this century the good teachers of dancing and the stage managers have made great efforts to arrive at a Renaissance of the art. The ‘skirt dance’ was originally a praiseworthy step in that direction; the flow of drapery superseding the penwiper-like costume of the ballet-girl, the slow and graceful movements instead of the painful tip-toe tripping,
If we wish to see true dancing, dancing from pure lightness of heart, we must go to oppressed or to exiled nations. Strange as this may sound, it can be explained from the fact that such people cling strongly to their old rites; that by intermarrying they keep more faithfully to their traditions and preserve in greater purity the customs of their forefathers. In addition, they find in the physical exertion of the dance an expression and a relief of their varied pent-up feelings; thus to-day spontaneous dancing—dancing with a momentary happiness that defies description—may be witnessed in Poland, in Ireland, and among the Basques and Jews.
It is obvious from the above that the study of the ‘History of the Dance’ will lead us to the study of many strange customs and manners, and those who think that some fact is to be found at the root of every myth will be interested in the various claims to the origin of the dance which appear in different mythologies and chronicles.
Personally I believe that, however modified the popular dances of ages most remote and of countries most widely apart may be, they are all deduced from one common origin. For the last five years I have given my time almost entirely to the study of the history of the dance, and the deeper I get into THE SKIRT DANCE
Travellers will tell us that such or such a tribe has no dances; but though I do not question the sincerity of their account, I still cling to my belief that all human beings have dances. If the explorer fails to see them, it is perhaps because he was among the people he describes at a season when there was no dancing, or (as we shall see in the chapter on savage dances) because the dance was a mystery, revealed only to the initiated and carefully hidden from the outsider. Dancing is no doubt coeval with the world, and men like Darwin and W. H. Hudson and others assert that not only man expresses his pleasure by dancing, but that several animals, notably birds, indulge in the pastime.
Two methods lie open to those who desire to give a detailed history of the dance. One is to divide it into the three kinds which are found all over the world—namely, the imaginative or poetic dancing (the poetry of motion); the descriptive or orgiastic dance, alluded to by Moses in the bull dance of the Israelites and sung by Juvenal, Martial, and other Pagan writers under ‘the safe veil of the Latin language; and last, but not
The second method, and the one I have for various reasons chosen in this volume, is to treat the history of the dance from a geographical point of view, showing the dances in vogue in different countries and under different climes. To trace a dance from one land to another will often indicate the historical connection of different peoples; we shall also find the same dance, or the same kind of dance, practised by kindred nations, proving that race is a close bond of union between countries geographically distant. In this way national dances can be more clearly distinguished from those that are borrowed from other lands, and the origin of a dance can be better understood by taking the reader straight to the home of its birth. Further, we shall perceive that the dance is often the true indication of a people's character, and we shall see what nations have had the most beautiful dances, and which have contributed most to our knowledge of the art.
In ancient Greece dancing was brought to such great perfection that even the sculptors studied and designed the attitudes of the public dancers. In the first centuries of our era the Church allowed dancing within the sacred walls; then came a period of degradation of the art, till it found its renaissance in Italy in the sixteenth century. Thence it was introduced at the French Court by Catherine de' Medici, and the dance in Italian fashion was universally applauded, exciting the admiration of all; consequently it invited the imitation of strangers, among others of the Spaniards, who added the use of castanets—a custom imported by the Arabs. We shall trace the evolution of our modern waltz from the
Venetian Wedding Dancelavolta
of Provence to the hurried performance of to-day. Bohemia will claim the right of having given birth to the polka—the polka which early in this century delighted society in France and England so keenly that even politics were forgotten for a time. During our choregraphic race we shall visit the Gipsies and the Basques, those strange, fascinating races which speak to us
(
From a Woodcut by Fost Amman, about
1570)
Of all dances, the most numerous are those of savage races, in whose lives the dance is an important factor. From the orbicular dance of Paganism, from the religious chorodies of antiquity, came the tragic choruses, our ballets, and even the sacred evolutions of early and of mediæval Christians. The carols of England. still kept up at Christmas time, were originally sacred dances; the
Reihen
of Germany, the
rondes
of France and Belgium. and some dances of Russia, belong to the same category.
In the primitive pantomime which accompanies the dances, especially those of savage races, we find the germs of the drama. The opera, partly from its more romantic nature, partly from its music, which cannot be dissociated from the dance, lends itself to the introduction of the ballet. The oldest ballet known was held over thirty centuries ago; it dramatised the conquest of Shang-or-Yin by King Wû, and has been described by Confucius.
The dance has its literature; it plays an important part in folk-lore, and from the sayings and proverbs of many countries can be culled sentences and references which prove that the dance is a universal art, that its adepts are the men and women of all the world, and that it is not lightly to be set aside as the pastime of an idle hour.
Though dancing frequently appears in literature, few works are exclusively devoted to it. In reading the majority of treatises on dancing one comes to the conclusion that ‘those A NAUTCH AT BOMBAY
(
From a Print after Proud Alesus Scuylef
)
Mere manuals of dancing are of very little interest to us, for the dance terms vary greatly at different times and places. How, for instance, can we understand the dancing-master of a southern Scottish town who, about one hundred years ago, wrote instructions for sixteen steps in the hornpipe and fourteen in the jig. In the hornpipe: ‘Slips and shuffle forwards, spleet and floorish backwards, Hyland step forwards, heel and toe forwards, slips across forwards, twist round backwards, cross stocks aside and sink forwards, and finally hopp forwards and backwards’ &c. &c.
Strange to say, the best works on dancing have been written by very grave personages. ‘The Orchésographie,’ a truly scientific book, is the most trustworthy record of the art of dancing in mediæval Europe; it is enriched with illustrations, musical examples, and with choregraphic figures which, together with the text, enable us to reproduce almost all the dances mentioned. It is full of quaint details as to the dancing manners of the period, and it was published in 1588 by a French monk, who had to hide his identity under an anagram; for even then animosity towards the art was rife. Another treatise of merit on dancing is the ‘Orchestra,’ a poem by Sir John Davies, Chief Justice of Ireland, written ill 1596. Most subsequent works, whether in France, England, Germany, or Italy, are largely made up of quotations from the above-named works. It is well, however, to make an exception for Böhme‘s book on the dancing of Germany, which is most valuable, especially for its musical examples.
In general, the persecution directed against dancing, the fact that in mediæval times the only people who knew how to write at all were monks, priests, and other learned men averse to choregraphic art, the small importance attached to it, have been
A fraction of my knowledge of the dance has been derived from personal observation during my travels in various parts of the globe. Most of it is due to research work. I have studied books, pictures, and statues in many libraries and museums of Europe; besides the few treatises specially devoted to dancing, I have resorted for information to works on the history of music, encyclopædias, works on manners and customs, on popular lyrics and on popular beliefs, histories of the drama, of art, of costume, of the domestic life of various peoples, glossaries of provinces, journals of folk-lore and anthropology, accounts of travellers and missionaries, &c., and I have arrived at the conclusion that much is yet to be gathered and to be learnt, and that an exhaustive history of the dance would be the work of a lifetime. I have received great help and encouragement from many scholars, curators, and librarians of this country, and of France and Belgium, to guide me in my investigations. I should like to acknowledge my indebtedness to each one individually, but, as this is impossible, I beg to offer them here my hearty thanks for their assistance and courtesy, without which the compilation of this volume would have been almost impossible.
Those branches of the dance which require familiarity with the technicalities of the art, and those which are of an entirely special character, or dependent on contemporary acquaintance with dancing manners, have been treated by contributors to this work, and their articles will speak for themselves.
Enough, perhaps, has been said to indicate how superficial is the view which calls the dance only a frivolous amusement, and how inadequately we yet understand its historical import, its possibilities as an art, and its power towards creating instincts of culture and refinement. It is pleasant to watch the dance as it expresses its varied moods under each varied sky. Beautiful in Greece, where it still speaks of classical times, it winds and unwinds its chain at the popular festivals; voluptuous in RUSTIC DANCE IN HOLLAND La Jok. Wallachian Dance
(
From an Engraving after David Teniers
)
(
After D. A. M. Raffet
, 1837)
Provincial Dance in Italy
(
From an Etching by B. Pinelli
, 1814)
THERE
must have been a period of the world's history when every action in life, every game, every banquet, every dance, was a game, a repast, a dance, in honour of the gods. With the Egyptians dancing was a necessary part of every religious celebration, and later, of every mundane event. It is, therefore, not surprising to find such very numerous representations of the art in ancient Egyptian monuments.
After 1200 B.C. we have no details concerning Egyptian life; before that we have plenty of dancing figures. The Greeks, who gave many descriptions of Egyptian dancing, wrote only of the later period in the land of the Pharaohs, and of a time when the manners and customs of other nations had already penetrated into its social life. These authors, besides, have not troubled themselves to be over-accurate, and, therefore, must be taken with a gram of salt.
In the ‘History’ of Diodorus of Sicily he says: ‘Osiris loved gaiety and much enjoyed songs and dances. He had with him always a company of musicians, among whom were nine maidens cultured in all the arts relating to music. Hence the Greeks call them the Nine Muses.’
The dances which strike us as the most curious of all those of Egypt were held in honour of the dead. On the Feast of Eternity (which was a feast of this character) the procession in which the image of the deceased was carried was
Rhythmic movements accompanied by song no doubt assisted labour. Sometimes the taskmasters beat time with their hands, sometimes by means of clappers. Dr. Lepsius heard about a hundred Egyptian workmen who were excavating one of the pyramids sing while working, seeming to derive assistance in their toil from their singing. The melody is given in Engel's ‘National Music,’ and here reproduced.
Solo. Chorus
.
Erman notes that ‘even servant-women exhibited their gymnastics and steps before the master. No feast was complete without such dances. They seemed to the Egyptian the natural expression of joy: to rejoice and to dance were synonymous terms in his poetic language. Jubilant gratitude towards the deity after a good harvest was expressed by a dance, the dance being as essential a part of the cult as the wearing of wreaths. It would seem that ball-playing accompanied many dances, and there are many illustrations of this art in existence.’
In Egypt the dancing-women were called Awélim—wise or learned; and this proves that originally the art had a higher purpose than the mere amusement of the spectators. The girls
The accompanying songs were often given by blind singers, numerous in Egypt, or by songstresses trained in the art. Memphis was celebrated for the production of accomplished singers.
Trajan dancing before the Egyptian Deities
An amusing representation is that of the Emperor Trajan's dance before the Egyptian gods. Trajan was never in Egypt, and if he had been, he would never have given homage to these idols. This is an instance of the artist representing, not what has been done, but what he thinks Trajan ought to have done in the circumstances; and it is all the more amusing because Trajan forbade the pantomimic dances in Rome.
C
In the course of his many year's digging in Egypt, Professor Flinders Petrie made the following observations:
‘While naming the local festivals, it may be noted that they generally take place around a tall pole fixed in some open space in the village. Some poles are stout masts, thirty or forty feet high; around this central point is the celebration of
molid
, or the birthdays of the village saint…
‘Many visitors to Egypt see the dancing and howling dervishes, but few know of the common and less offensive orgies
The Dervishes Dancing in Egypt
(
From an Engraving after C.N. Coachin, 1787
)
There is no doubt that traces of the ancient dance (but not of the very earliest) are still found in Egypt. Erman says that ‘however uniform these dances may appear on the reliefs, one can distinguish by close observation the varied figures… At sacrificial funeral feasts, the songstresses stand opposite the dancing-women, and between the groups is a table spread with viands.’
Women only danced on occasions in their long robes; they usually wore the men's clothing of a short apron round the loins, and they are to be distinguished from men by their ornaments—necklaces, bracelets, anklets, and wreaths of flowers. These dancers belonged to the harem of the great people of Egypt. ‘Besides these simple dances performed by numbers,’ adds Erman, ‘there are others—duet-dances, of intricate figure. Three of these are represented on a tomb of the latter end of the Fourth Dynasty. The movements of more ancient times
C2
At great banquets the guests were entertained with dances, as may be seen represented in a wall-painting at the British Museum. ‘Ball-playing,’ says Erman, ‘was only a variety of the dance.’ It is indicated by the costume, or perhaps sometimes by the absence of costume, of the girls; of this there is an example in the picture from Benihassan. The dance is that performed at the funeral feast of Chnemhotep. The figures are easily interpreted; some are a parody, another is the wind, others are grasses bent by the wind. Many of the postures resembled those of the modern ballet; thus, as Wilkinson points out, the ‘pirouette delighted an Egyptian party upwards of 3,750 years ago.’
The Egyptians forbade those of the higher classes to learn to dance as an accomplishment. By permitting professional persons to be introduced into their assemblies to entertain their guests, they sanctioned all the diversion of which it was supposed to be capable, without compromising their dignity. Slaves were taught dancing, for it was part of their duty to entertain their masters. Free Egyptians of a low class made it their profession, but when the natives danced amongst themselves, they generally inclined to pantomime. But, besides the pirouette and other steps, a favourite figure dance, described by Wilkinson, was adopted throughout the country. In this ‘ the two partners, usually men, advanced towards each other, or stood face to face upon one leg, and having performed a series of movements, retired again in opposite directions, continuing to hold by one hand, and concluded by turning each other round.’ This attitude of the two figures has been adopted in hieroglyphics as the sign of dancing. ‘In another step, they struck Gházeeyehs of Rosetta
(
From a Print after E. Prisse
, 1848)
The more modern dancers of the harem, once so highly esteemed as learned women, dance to the music of violins and tambourines.
Dance of Fellahs of Upper Egypt
(
From a Print after Rifaud
)
The Gháwázees or Gháazeeyehs of to-day are generally hired to perform dances on certain occasions, such as a wedding. They go through their evolutions with unveiled face, and the men sitting down in the court and watching them, while the women enjoy the performance from the windows of the harem.
A modern Egyptian dance, called the ‘Bee,’ is performed by a single dancer, who, in look or action, expresses the pain she feels on being stung.
We still regard the Egyptians as the first inventors of the art of choregraphy—that is, the art of describing by characters DANCING GIRLS AT AN ANCIENT EGYPTIAN BANQUET (THEBES)
(
From a coloured Egyptian Wall-painting in the British Museum
)
Mask and Ivory Clappers found by Professor W. M. Flinders Petrie
(
Reproduced by permission
)
Assyrian Mummers
Among the fellahs or peasants of Upper Egypt, after a wedding the bride and her friends join in a dance which is
Professor Flinders Petrie found a remarkable carving, which may be a toy or a symbolic figure executed in hard wood, and it was found buried in the floor of a chamber together with a pair of ivory clappers. This clearly represents a mummer or dancer in costume with a headdress, or mask, and tail. The mask was probably intended for the head of Bes, as that god is often figured as dancing, playing tambourines and pipes.
This subject of mummers, especially of those dancing in the skin of animals, is a very interesting one to archaeologists and folk-lorists, but it will suffice here to show a representation of some Assyrian mummers.
The use of rhythm, of measured motion or language, is characteristic of human nature. The most uncivilised races have expressed their feelings by such measured movements in the dance. Religious instinct finds relief in declaring itself through the dance incorporated in ceremonial observance; and only when the nation becomes artificial does dancing fall to the level of an amusement.
Possibly no people have as yet had a dance so dignified and so grand in idea and performance as that of the Hebrews. With them it was chiefly an act of gratitude for a victory, or an accompaniment to a hymn of praise.
Their movements were not governed by a hard and fast rule. Nor were quick rotation and graceful gesture accounted of paramount importance. Their motive was a solemn one—to express gratitude and praise to God for deliverance from the enemy. At Public religious festivals the singer of sacred hymns, animated by a noble emotion, made the dance, like the music
It has been established by the most learned Biblical commentators that in the mention of timbrels, cymbals, and other musical instruments, the dance is generally included. Laban asks why Jacob did not give him an opportunity of sending him away ‘with mirth and with songs, with tabret and with harp’? (Genesis xxxi. 27), and the canticle of the Israelites after the destruction of the Egyptians was accompanied by the timbrel of Miriam, ‘and all the women went out after her with timbrels and with dances’ (Exod. xv. 20). Thus the leader of the dance was she who first started it, generally a person of high rank, like Miriam, the sister of Aaron, Jephthah's daughter; and Judith went out with all the women of the land, who wore wreaths of olives, while she who delivered them from Holofernes takes the lead in the dance. The inferiors were invited to join by speech or action. Miriam's was a type of a dance still practised in modern Arabia. It has no rules, but varies according to the imagination of the leader, who improvises as her feeling suggests. It belongs to the open air and wide plain.
MIRIAM'S SONG
(
By permission of Messrs. Sampson Low & Co
.)
This song is given by Chorley. At the present day it is sung as a hymn in the synagogues. According to the Père Ménestrier, the Israelites, after the passage of the Red Sea, performed a thanksgiving dance to the hymn of Moses. Millileus, in his ‘Moses Viator,’ thus describes it:—
‘Let Jacob's sons their cheerful voices raise
In grateful hymns to their Preserver's praise.
Let the glad dance attend th' harmonious sound,
And shouts of joy from earth to heaven rebound.’
This when the chief had said, on either side
The troops, obedient to command, divide.
He, with his rod, directs th' attending choirs,
And first begins the song which Heav'n inspires.
Soon as the men the holy dance had done,
The Hebrew matrons the same rites begun;
Miriam presiding o'er the female throng,
Begins and suits the movement to the song.
It is understood that in these ancient rites men and women danced in separate groups. The only promiscuous dance was of the kind performed by the sinful children of Israel round the golden calf (Exod. xxxii, 19), which was not Hebrew in origin, but idolatrous, possibly orgiastic.
Occasions for dancing were given by domestic festivals, and social pleasures, women moving to the sound of the adufe—the name given also to the Biscayan tabor. In this wise the daughters of Shiloh danced on an annual feast when the children of Benjamin surprised them and carried away each man a wife to himself ‘of them that danced’ (Judges xxi. 19–23). The feast which the women celebrated was probably the Feast of THE DANCE ROUND THE GOLDEN CALF David dancing before the Ark
Freeze an Engraving after Nicholas Penusfu)
(
From an Engraving after Domcnichino
)
The fact that most dances in Biblical history were executed by women explains in some measure Michal's sneer at David's leading the procession of the ark with an emphatic dance. It is not supposed that the king went through set figures with precise steps, but that he ran, skipped, and rejoiced, in the manner of a child dancing with joy. Michal perhaps chose to see in her husband's vigorous leaps some impulse different from the religious one which would free his body from earth and bear it towards heaven. He had laid aside his imperial purple, and put on a plain linen ephod, which was light and suitable for the dance. Such a garment was used during religious exercises by those who were not priests. Michal, who was not religiously minded, could not share David's transport, and thought that her husband's behaviour lacked dignity. To all her cruel upbraiding, which was not reserved for his private ear, but poured out before the multitude, he replied gently that by his dance he had purposed to honour God. ‘It was before the Lord’ (2 Sam. vi. 14, 21). Strangely enough, there are no further records of dancing at sacred festivals during David's reign, although he was himself a poet and a musician, and probably encouraged art.
The daughter of Saul would perhaps nourish in her heart an echo of her father's jealousy, as he observed the choruses of the women when they played and danced (I Sam. xviii. 6, 7), going to meet the victorious warriors, and seeming to praise David at his expense. The chorus was then a leading feature of the triumphal procession, as it was of the harvest or village festival.
The Amalekites, when they were slaughtered at the hands of David's army, were dancing ‘because of all the great spoil that they had taken’ (I Sam. xxx. 16). But amongst the Hebrews themselves the dancing was not confined to the women, for it is said, ‘Then shall the virgin rejoice in the dance, both young men and old together’ (Jer. xxxi. 13).
It is believed that the dedication of the walls of Jerusalem under Ezra and Nehemiah was solemnized by two moving
Voss says: ‘We can hardly realise the imposing effect of such dances performed during the silent night in grand buildings lighted by the powerful flames from golden candelabra—a congregation wrapped in religious fervour, dancing to the accompaniment of harps and cymbals, while through the temple resounded the psalm, “The Lord shall keep thee
One of the interpreters of the Scriptures says, ‘You may hear in all the choral psalms of which they make mention a band of men dancing to the sound of divers instruments of music.’
‘He promised with an oath to give her whatsoever she would ask’ (Matt. xiv. 7). So great was the charm exercised on Herod by the dance of the daughter of Herodias; and Herod preferred to commit a murder rather than to break his vow and disappoint his mistress. The barbarous scene of the head brought in ona charger, giving such an unfavourable idea of the Jewish manners of the time, has often been painted. The whole episode affords startling proof of the influence and importance of dancing in those times. The evangelists, with this tragedy before them, say little about dancing, and nothing in the way of recommendation of the dance as an act of worship. The Fathers were very severe on certain dances, and St. Chrysostom, in a homily, says that Christians do not now deliver up half a kingdom or another man's head at the bidding of a dancer, but give their own souls to inevitable destruction. The subject of Salome dancing before Herod has inspired a great many artists, and there are a number of pictures in existence, most of them portraying the dancing customs and the dress prevalent during the lifetime of the painter; but although many represent Dutch, or Italian, or German ball scenes, they nevertheless take us back nearly three thousand years into the Hebraic world. Israel yon Menecken has a striking picture on this subject, so has Karel yon Mander. The accompanying illustration is a copy of his work, in which he shows us a corner (during the ball) where John the Baptist's head is cut off. An older version of the Bible says Salome
vaulted
, and in mediæval pictures, both on stained glass windows and in manuscripts, she is represented walking on her hands, as in the illustration on page 31.
The diversity of opinion on the subject of the morality of SALOME BEFORE HEROD Salome dancing on her hands before Herod
(
From an Engraving Karel van Mander
)
(
From an Illuminated manuscript of the Fourteenth Century
)
The
joy
of dancing is distinctly illustrated by Biblical passages, where the expression ‘playing with timbrels’ probably always means dancing. In the sixty-eighth psalm a triumphal ceremony in the temple is described: ‘They have seen Thy goings, O God, even the goings of my God, my King, in the sanctuary. The singers went before, the minstrels followed after, among them were the damsels playing with timbrels’ (A.V. verse 25). Delitzsch says that ‘the legislation of the priestly code made no change in the taste of the people for dancing; this
Jeremiah comforts his people by: ‘Again shalt thou be adorned with thy tabrets, and shalt go forth in the dances of them that make merry’ (xxxi. 4).
On the solemn feast of Atonement there was a dance held in the vineyards; also on the last day of the wood offering. These were dances of a merry nature and intended solely to express pleasure. A pretty custom is reported by Delitzsch as connected with this dance: ‘The maidens, without ornament, were dressed in white, borrowing newly washed dresses for the occasion; even the rich borrowed them, so as not to put the poor to shame.’ The singing was done by the men; ‘but under the chastening influence of the day's solemnities, the meeting took the form, in a measure, of looking for or choosing a bride.’ I hear from Dr. Schechter, Reader in the Talmudic at Cambridge, that formerly during the dance called Mizva the girls were allowed to propose to the men.
After the dispersal of the Jews those who were most oppressed showed most signs of religious exaltation in their observances. In Poland, for instance, their joy in the expectation of the Messiah who shall deliver them from servitude and give them back their national rights excites their minds so much that it breaks out in songs and dances in the very synagogue, and they think that this expression can only be pleasing to God. In such inhospitable lands their family ties are strengthened. Amongst the Jews of Metz marriage ceremonies were once very stately. Games, baths, and music preceded the procession, and rejoicing and dances lasted for eight days. The Jews of Morocco have similar rejoicings at weddings. The accompaniment consists of the Moorish guitar, the tambourine, and shrieking monotonous songs; the dances are similar to those of the Gháwázee of modern Egypt. When the performers have concluded the exercise, which each
Dr. Frankldl, in his ‘Journey to the East,’ attended a banquet in a Jewish house at Damascus, at which Baron Rothschild was also present. An illuminated open court, full of orange and red almond trees in blossom, was crossed by men of different complexions, wandering about in motley costumes; the lights looked like magic lamps of ruby, emerald, and topaz, such as we read of in the ‘Arabian Nights.’ Above all was the clear bright moon. The whole company sat down, smoking, and drinking coffee.
In order to show respect to the guests, the ladies began their dance. ‘Two rose from the circle, approached us, and after applying the right hand to the forehead, heart, and lips (while we stood to return the salutation), they softly touched our right hands, which were extended to meet theirs. The dance was accompanied by the noisy music of the band, and the clacking of wooden castanets. Each lady moved as she chose, without referring to the other. She applied the right and the left hand in turn to the forehead much in the same way as an officer returns a salute, and she went round the circle as if dancing a cotillon… The nearest approach to a graceful posture was when one of the group placed her hand on her waist and proudly bent her head backwards. There was no sort of expression or manifestation of character perceptible in their features. The performance gave you the idea of some highly ornamental figures moved by some mechanical
D
The dance lasted about ten minutes, then the dancers saluted as at the beginning, and the men clapped hands in sign of applause. At once a second pair began, and when all had taken part in turn, Dr. Frankldl complained of having been reduced to a state of comatose ennui.
In a comparative study of the art of dancing, it is difficult to say in what country or at what period it first originated. For in the same way that the myths of various peoples seem to correspond when there is no apparent connection between them, the same dance is often found at the same time in different parts of the globe.
Although the Greeks can lay no claim to be the originators of the art, their dances are more worthy of consideration than those of races to whom we are less directly indebted for our art and philosophy. And their dance must have been more artistic, more expressive, more gay and varied, than that of Egypt.
It has already been said that a nation's special character is depicted in its dance, and we find that the deeply religious nature of the ancient Greeks is thus portrayed. Some of the philosophers defined the soul as the harmony of the body, and in the all-pervading love of proportion, so conspicuous among the people, the aim was to develope equally all the powers of body and mind. To the Greeks belongs the triumphant demonstration that poetry, music, and dancing can form one art. The Grecian mother sang to her children songs relating the feats of warriors and heroes, the praises of the gods, and the history of past ages: as she sang she taught them the dance descriptive of each theme.
The Greek love of symmetry, order, and regularity went Dance of Apollo and the Muses
(
From an Engraving after Giulio Romano
)
The special characteristic of Greek dancing consists of the physical representation of an idea; it expresses also actions, inclinations, and events, and offers an outlet for pent-up impulse in a rhythm of artistic grace. Plato, in his ‘Laws,’ observes that it is a natural instinct of all creatures to move, and especially to move with certain rules of periodicity; for the principle exists within us in the beating of our arteries, and around us in the flight of birds, the canter of horses, the ebb and flow of the sea.
Most primitive dances were certainly circular. Several causes are given as an explanation. It is said that by the circular movement the apparent rotation of sun and planets is imitated. Again, it is said that the circle represents to the popular mind the idea of the infinite. ‘Nature,’ says Emerson, ‘centres into balls.’
The Phaiakian dance praised by Homer was performed by youths in a circular movement round a singer. There exists a very primitive reproduction in terra-cotta of maidens of Cyprus dancing round a tree. The Maypole dance is here foreshadowed in what seems to be the cult of the tree which in arid countries is even to-day revered as an emblem of fertility.
The feeling for the rhythmical, the recurrence of regular, proportional, and measured beats, was highly cultivated and enjoyed by the Greeks. The popular ear was very sensitive to it, as was also the eye. According to Horace, the eyes are more faithful than the ears, and it is easier to trust one's sight than one's hearing. The order and proportion observed in movement is rhythm; in relation to sound it is called harmony, and in Greece the connection of rhythm with harmony
Plutarch, in his
Symposiaca, describes it clearly as the handmaid of poetry; its purpose was to emphasis the poet's creations.
With the ancients, the dance, in its narrowest sense, included the whole art of gesture.
Cyclic or Dithyrambic Chorus moving round the Altar of Dionysos
(
From Schrziber Anderson;s ‘Atlas of Classical Antiquities
’)
Cheironomia then, this art of speaking from afar by means of hand gestures, must be considered as part of the study of the classic dance and of the modern mime. This branch of art was essential to the orator of the Forum and to the dancer of the theatre. In Greece the poets were teachers of Cheironomia; in Rome, the actors. Primitive nations, like children, use gesture before words, and one great use of Cheironomia by ancient civilised nations possibly arose when they traded with barbaric peoples.
Athenæeus writes that Telestes, a dancer in the theatre of Æschylus, was so skilled in Cheironomia that he represented in a dance the ‘Seven before Thebes.’ To represent abstract ideas by such means would be even more difficult, yet the story is told of Sostratus, that he refused to give a dance called ‘Liberty’ before the conqueror of his native town. ‘It would not be fitting for me to dance the “liberty” which my native town has lost.’ Plato and Xenophon have nothing but praise for the art, and Juvenal celebrates, in his fifth Satire, the skill of a Cheironomic dance in which a Gaul waits at table, carving the meats with such rapidity that the knife seemed to fly.
In the earliest times dancing in connection with the drama consisted mostly of movements with the feet; the use of the hands and arms in dancing and the introduction of elaborate gesticulation were developments due to a later period. (Athen. p. 630.)
The interest of enlightened Greeks, poets, artists, and people, centred in man—his nature and his actions. Unlike
Phrynichus boasts of having discovered more figures in dancing than there are waves in a stormy sea.
Intensely religious as they were, the sentiment pervaded every feature of their lives; their pleasures were embodied in their religious ceremonies, and it was a happy peculiarity of their nature to carry enjoyment to a very great length, and yet stop short of the discordant and vulgar element of excess. No festival, no solemnity was complete without songs and dances; and the dance kept its original purity as long as a high standard of morality remained unshaken. Its
Like the literature and the plastic art of a country, the dance becomes imbued with the spirit of the time. Thus we find that in Greece, as the people degenerated and gradually lost their taste for the beautiful, mechanical dexterity took the place of real art.
The dances of Greece are fully described by Homer, Hesiod, Plato, Xenophon, Plutarch, Athenæus, Lucian, Pollux, and other writers; and although by them we are taught the spirit of the art and its influence upon the people, the actual figures of various dances are better understood by a close inspection of statuary, fictile vases, and wall-paintings. Athenæus says that dancing was brought to such perfection in imitating the passions that the most eminent sculptors often took their models and designs from the attitudes of public dancers, and thus produced that great beauty and grace of form and figure which have never been surpassed in the history of the world. Strangely enough, yet according to the cyclic order of events, these well-preserved and marvellous figures and postures have come to be the models and studies of the dancers of a later day.
Primarily, the dance of Greece was a form of worship and a branch of education, but it did not long remain stationary, and from its religious origin it soon penetrated every-day life, forming part of all merry-making, and being introduced into the drama, where it attained greater perfection, and rose to art.
With increasing popularity the dance increased in embellishments THE BALL-DANCE IN ANCIENT GREECE
The Greek dances may be divided and subdivided
ad infinitum
. Although it is not necessary to treat dancing like a mathematical problem, one must, for the sake of convenience, specify three technical varieties: the Kubistic, including leaping and acrobatic feats; the Spheristic, rhythmical movements accompanying ball-throwing; and the Orchestic, or dancing proper, as we understand it, as far as the low ideals of the time allow. Remembering that all the dances were religious, we may note a group belonging especially to the feasts of the gods; they were the warlike or gymnastic, and the mimic or dramatic. Of these the funeral dances deserve some description.
The funeral was attended with grave marches and sad gestures to indicate sorrow, and sometimes to picture the episode which caused the end of the deceased. The mourners were dressed in white and crowned with cypress. Fifteen virgins dancing preceded the funeral car; a troop of youths surrounded it. The procession was closed by weeping women covered with long black cloaks.
A kind of warlike dance called Gymnopaidia was performed by two groups of youths and children, quite nude, singing hymns by Thaletas, a poet who is said to have introduced into Sparta a more vehement style both of music and dance, with the Kretic and Paeonic rhythm. Other hymns were sung, those of Alkman dating from 627 B.C.; and the pæans of Dionysodotos. These Gymnopaidia, mentioned by Pausanias as a favourite sport and dance, go back to the LIX Olympiad. They were as much processions as dances. The leaders were called Thyreatics, in memory of the victory of Thyrea, and they carried wreaths of palms. Sometimes the pageant was held in honour of those who fell at Thyrea or Thermopylæ. The Laconian, composed of three choruses representing the past, present, and future, was a military dance, calculated to give the
We once were young and gay as you,
Valiant, bold, and active too.
The young men responded:
'Tis now our turn, and you shall see
You've ne'er deserved it more than we.
The boys chimed in:
The day shall come when we shall show
Feats that surpass all you can do.
The Lacedæmonians had other dances which were accompanied by the singing of verses. A particularly slow and serious dance is mentioned by Athenaæus—a lyric dance called Hyporchematic, in which a chorus of men and women danced round the altar where the sacrifice was burning. Like the pæan, it was in honour of Apollo. The first movement was from left to right, imitating the Zodiac; the second and reversed movement imitated the march of the heavens.
A warlike dance, in fact the great dance of war, was the Pyrrhic. By the laws of Sparta, every child over five had to learn it, and it was practised daily in the public place. Hector is believed to allude to it when he speaks of ‘moving the feet to the sound of Mars.’
You have the Pyrrhic dance as yet,
Where is the Pyrrhic phalanx gone?
asks Byron. The invention of this dance is variously attributed to Pyrrhus, the Dioscuri, the Cureres, Athene, and to Achilles, in honour of Patroclus. It was accompanied by the flute, and danced by armed warriors, simulating warlike deeds, with all the proper manœuvres for attack and defence. The four divisions were, the Podism, or footing, a quick motion such as night be required for overtaking the enemy (and, alas! for fleeing from him; but it has already been remarked that the Greeks had no affectations); the Xiphism, or sham fight; the
Here, too, the warlike dancers bless our sight,
Their artful wandering and their laws of flight,
And unconfused return and inoffensive fight.
The Pyrrhic was often carried out on horseback, and, on the other hand, it might be merely indicated by Cheironomia. Properly it was a Dorian gymnastic dance, but it gave its name to a whole class of dances, and practically it covered the same ground as our ballet. Originally danced by men only, it developed into a mixed dance,
The Pyrrhic Chorus
(
From Schreiber Anderson's ‘Atlas of Classical Antiquities
’)
Xenophon describes a Mysian war dance with round shields to the sound of the flute. An Arcadian maiden was introduced and much applauded in this. (
Anabasis
, lib. vi.) Another of this warlike class, of which the subject was the invasion of India by Dionysos and Pentheus, was in honour of Dionysos. The victories of the deity over the Hindoos, and the history of Pentheus, were represented, the executants carrying thyrsi and torches instead of weapons.
The learned Scaliger pretended to be able to reproduce a Pyrrhic dance, and actually performed one in full costume before Maximilian I., much to that emperor's astonishment. Professor Meibom, too, tried to dance an ancient Greek dance to an ancient Greek air, before Queen Christina and the whole Swedish court; but although the attempts would have been peculiarly well worth seeing in an idle hour, their well-intentioned realism must have fallen far short of the genuine art; of which only faint outlines have been preserved for us, in spite of all the learned research.
The Hormos, though graceful and lively, was a war dance invented by Lycurgus. It was formed by youths and maidens alternating, and representing the shape of a winding necklace. The men tried to outdo each other in the variety of their warlike positions, their partners following with modest and graceful steps. A leader, playing the lyre, regulated the movements of the rest. The whole dance pictured manly courage contrasted with feminine modesty, the maidens making slow movements to two or three steps of their partners, yet all these diversified actions were guided by the same music.
Some lines in the ‘Iliad,’ describing the shield of Achilles, are applicable equally to the Hormos and other war-dances.
A figured dance succeeds, such once was seen
In lofty Gnossus; for the Cretan Queen
Or perhaps Homer had in his mind the Crane dance, representing the intricacies of the Cretan labyrinth. It has already been alluded to, but is worthy of a detailed description.
Girls leading Theseus. Dance of Casos
(
From an Archaic Vase
)
It was called the Geranos, or Crane dance, because the dancers went in line, following a thread, as it were, and performed evolutions similar to those of a flight of cranes. We see in Winckelmann's ‘Monumenti Antichi’ an ancient vase on which Theseus in portrayed. He holds the famous clue which save his from the maze, while Ariadne, clad in a close-fitting Greek garment, which falls to the feet, bears in her two hands a thread. On such a model is this dance performed in modern Greece. It was introduced in the festival of Apollo at Delos by young Athenian theori, and by Delians. Those who distinguished themselves received as a reward valuable tripods which they dedicated to the gods, and the names of the victorious were
Following this was the Choregraphic figure-dance of the windings of the labyrinth, the Crane dance, already described and to be seen yearly in the street of the convent at Athens on the conclusion of the vintage. Here the peasants join hands, and precede their asses and mules, which are laden with grapes in panniers, in a very intricate figure. The leader waves a handkerchief, and in this detail Chandler points out a reference to Ariadne giving the clue. Parenthetically, it may be noted that the Choreutai engaged in theatrical performance of the Geranos were guided in the involutions of the maze by a design on the floor of the orchestra.
While all Greek dancing was founded upon a religious idea, that of the Delian feast was especially sacred. Such sacred dances had the same reverent character as those of the Hebrews. The chorus surrounded the altar while the sacrifice was burning, and sang airs which stimulated the dances. Many of these were imitative: such a one was that hearing the name Ajax. One, commemorative of Apollo's birth, pictured the supposed amusements of his youth; sailors danced round, beating themselves with whips. Dances in honour of goddesses
At Ephesus every year there were festivals in honour of Artemis. One of the ceremonies consisted in a dancing procession represented by Apelles. These processions, as Martial describes them (like those of mediaeval times), were gross and licentious. Such also were the dances of Elis and the Dorian in honour of Artemis Cordax—they were almost orgies. No better were those of Artemis of Perga; the priests submitted the while to voluntary torture, a practice which occurred in all the cults of lunar deities in Asia Minor. The Greeks scarcely ever performed a religious function which had not dancing as part of the ceremony.
Girl in Armour. Dancing
(
From a Greek vase-painting, about
450 B.C.)
Dances rehearsing the deeds of the gods were solemnised round the altar or statue, while hymns were sung in three parts: the Strophe, while turning from east to west; the Antistrophe, west to east; then the Epode, or end of the song, in front of the altar.
In Sparta girls danced with one knee bared in honour of Athene, and in the illustration we see a girl dancing in armour.
Scenic or dramatic dances carry us back to the most artistic and refined part of Greece—Ionia and Athens.
Of the Emmeleia of Tragedy Plato says: ‘There are two really beautiful dances, the martial Pyrrhic and the tragic Emmeleia.’ According to Lucian, the latter owes its name to
The tragic dance of the sixth century B.C. was of a wild and lively character. It became more solemn under Æschylus, in whose time dancing in tragedy reached its highest pitch of excellence. His long choruses allowed ample scope for the skill of the dancers. Towards the fourth century it declined in significance and in excellence.
Lucian, whom I quote frequently, and to whom t owe much information, observes that the floods of tears shed at the public theatres upon the dancers' presentment of sorrowful subjects were sufficient proof of their perfection in imitation.
The dancer needed great versatility of mind and deep sympathy of nature in order to excel in different characters, and express every emotion.
In those time the dance was accompanied by splendour of dress and scenery, and the power of song and music; it gave
Mænads dancing
There was an established standard of beauty and proportion for dancers. In Antioch, when a very little man appeared to dance the character of Hector, ‘Well, here is Astyanax the son,’ the audience cried, ‘but where is Hector the father?’ When a fat man came on he was begged to tread lightly and spare the floor.
In the dramatic dance are found the germs of the Roman and Greek pantomime corresponding to our ballet. Lucius Apuleius describes with much charm a pantomimic ballet at Corinth, which resembled those of our day:
Professor Blackie observes: ‘The tradition is to the effect that the lyrical drama, as we find it in the extant works of Æschylus, arose out of the dithyrambic hymns sung at sacred festivals of the ancient Hellenes in honour of their god Dionysos, or, as he is vulgarly called, Bacchus; hymns which were at first extemporised under the effect of the grape, and then sung by a regularly trained chorus, under the direction of the famous Methymmæan minstrel, Arion. The simplest form which such hymns, under such conditions, could assume, was that of a circular dance by a band of choristers round the statue or altar of the god in whose praise the hymn was sung. The dithyramb or Bacchic hymn was also called a circular hymn. In olden times it consisted of fifty men, then it was diminished to twelve, and arranged in the form of a military company; in regular rank and file. Such a chorus, therefore, was the grand central trunk out of which the Attic tragedy branched and bloomed to such fair luxuriance of verbal melody.’
Besides these, there were also various dances illustrative of joy and merriment, such as the Anthema, a flower dance, mostly sung by women at private assemblies, with the refrain:
Where's my lovely parsley, say?
My violets, roses, where are they?
My parsley, roses, violets fair,
Where are my flowers? Tell me where.
Also the civic and other profane dances; and the dances in Girls dancing like Birds
(
From a vase painting
)
Among mimetic dances—that is to say, dances meant to express an emotion or accompany the words of a chorus—the Hyporchema holds an important place of great antiquity; it is mentioned by Homer. It belongs to the cult of Apollo, and later on was practised in honour of Dionysos and Athene. The most beautiful of the Spartan dances was the Caryatis, performed in the village of Caryæ, and danced annually by the wealthiest damsels of Sparta, carrying on their heads flat baskets—
canea
—in which were deposited the sacred cake, chaplet, frankincense, and knife to slay the victim. The dance would sometimes sway to the song—‘Advance your foot, young people, enjoy yourselves, and dance better.’ These women with their loads probably formed the model of the architectural figures called Caryatides.
There is very little to say about the modern dances of Greece which has not been said about the ancient dances. Many have been found by recent travellers to correspond with those of old times. Mr. Theodore Bent, in his book on the Cyclades, describes several. There is no doubt that in Crete especially, where old customs prevail, the ancient dances are still popular.
The Curetes, or priests of Cybele, performed a martial dance, beating loudly on their shields. This practice was supposed to be in order to drown the cries of the infant Zeus, and to prevent his being eaten by his father Kronos, who was rather inclined to eat his surplus infants, especially when they cried. A dance representing this mythological detail was performed in Crete, and called Kronou Teknophagia.
The Wallachian is probably an ancient Bacchie dance, Curetes dancing and beating on their Shields so as to down the cries of the infant Zeus
(
From a terra-cotta relief
)
This is usually danced by the Albanians in full armour, and is supposed to be the ancient Pyrrhic dance.Arnaöut, the Albanian Dance
The Ionian is a duet, danced quietly and lightly, after a banquet. It is known in Smyrna and Asia Minor generally, For the May dance the women cover themselves with flowers, in honour of Flora. The song is a welcome to the goddess of May, and the dance is led by the most beautiful of the girls. The Easter dance of Megara reminds us of the ancient Hormus.
Wilder groups amuse themselves in the Pyrrhic dance of the Spacchiotes, danced in short kirtles, long boots, with a quiver of arrows and bent bow; the Klepht and Albanian dances, where a long chain of dancers is led by a coryphæeus. He nods his head or waves a handkerchief, to mark the time. Childe Harold looked on as
…Bounding hand in hand, man link'd to man,
Yelling their uncouth dirge, long danced the kirtled clan.
Across the Ægean Sea we find many interesting dances. Savary describes that of Casos:
‘The guests were merry when the noise of instruments caused us to leave the table. About twenty girls clad in white, with flowing robes and braided hair, entered the room. They were leading a youth who played the lyre, and accompanied the melody with a song. They arranged themselves in a circle, and invited me to dance. The circle we formed was peculiar by the way it was interwoven. The dancer does not give his hands to the two people nearest to him, but to the next two, so that we had our arms intertwined before and at the back of our neighbours, forming the ring of a double chain. In the centre stood the musician, playing and dancing at the same time.’
Dance of the Islands of the Archipelago.Isolano
We see from these examples that the dance of modern Greece is not devoid of poetry and picturesqueness, and we may well conclude that if the dance among these degenerate sons is still so beautiful, that of the fathers must have flourished as an ideal of perfect art. Whether considered as a means of developing physical beauty, health, courage (as when a dance was commanded immediately before a battle, to inspire the warriors and stir their blood) ; whether looked upon as the highest means of worship, motive was always present. The dance was not aimless gyrating, but had a significance of its own.
The necessity of expressing strong emotion, which exists in every human being, finds a translation in different amusements, according to the character of the nation or individual. While Greece had brought culture to perfection, and had greatly embellished its festivals and recreations, that of Rome was as yet in its infancy; it was cold and severe in character, and lacked the enthusiasm and brilliant imagination of the Hellenes.
Young, righteous, solid, heroic Rome danced very little in the time of Romulus. But one dance is known; and it was performed only by the men, no doubt with a due sense
All the dances afterwards introduced into Rome in honour of the deities originated in the Salian dance. Possessing little or no original artistic genius, the Romans borrowed every idea from neighbours; they adopted uncomplainingly all the gods of Greece, and set up temples, priests, and, above all, dances, for every possible and impossible idol. Thus absorbed into the Roman mind through its use in religious worship, the dance began to make its way into the profane life of the city. Three hundred and ninety years after its foundation Rome was visited by the plague, and, in order to propitiate the gods, and also to divert the thoughts of the people, the Ludion dance was invented. According to Livy, it was performed by Etruscans, specially engaged for the purpose, together with flute players.
On the first of May the youths and maids of Rome danced in the fields to the sound of instruments. They would then gather green boughs, and while dancing carry them back to the city, where every house was to be adorned with the spoil. The parents and friends of the young people awaited them in the streets, and tables laden with viands stood prepared for the feast, after which songs and dances began anew. Primitive art effected here a fellow-feeling between all classes; patricians, functionaries, and plebeians, united by one universal sentiment of joy and gratitude, decked themselves in brave green leaves, and formed one family.
The funeral dances of Athens were also introduced. Funeral
With the decadence of Greece all arts sought a refuge in Rome, where manners softened, and music and the dance came into high favour. In solemn processions the magistrates appeared in their robes, and women danced before the statue of Cybele. Athletic exercises and dances were the material of every rural feast, such as the Agonalia, founded by Numa in honour of Janus; the Lupercalia, a festival instituted in memory of the she-wolf who preserved Romulus and Remus; the Palilia, or feast of the goddess of the shepherds, celebrated by the shepherds in the fields. They feasted and danced round fires made with straw and chaff. It is thought that originally this was done to ward off dangers.
In the Cerelia, where women were chiefly engaged, a band of maidens draped as wood-nymphs, with flowing hair and wreaths of flowers, was formed round another woman personating the goddess.
Though dancing of a dull and severe type was probably as old among the Romans as Rome itself, it was not until the
When, under Augustus, the dance was at its highest period of favour and perfection, there were no fewer than three thousand foreign women dancers within the walls of Rome. Their presence was deemed a necessity, and when public expenditure was cut down, foreign teachers of philosophy and other learned men were dismissed, but the three thousand dancing women were kept on.
The Roman pantomimic dance was not a dance in our sense of the word; it consisted of expressive rhythmical movements of head and hands, though it would be a mistake to suppose that the rest of the body was immovable. The events of antiquity and the several human passions were so faithfully pictured by these gestures, that the spectators were often moved to tears. Moore speaks of eloquent feet, but in Rome it was the turn of eloquent hands, and Petronius remarks the eloquence of the dance. Quintilian says of the language of the hands that it is the universal language of nations, and this was no doubt true in ancient times, when this gesture speech was even richer than it is among the South Italians at the present day. A performance of dancing was given, under Nero, before a foreign king. He begged Nero to make him a present of one of the dancers; ‘for,’ he said, ‘I can thus make myself understood by aliens.’ When Augustus reigned the celebrated dancers, Pylades and Bathyllus, appeared upon the stage. The one excelled in tragic, the other in comic scenes. They were clever enough to perform whole plays by gesture and step alone. At that period the most cultured persons practised the art, and a dancing-master was a member of every patrician
Greek dances were much taught in Rome. Every variety of the Pyrrhic was performed, mostly by slaves or by hired men and women; the latter came chiefly from Andalusia and Syria. In later times the dancing became very licentious, and was denounced by Cato and Cicero. As Cicero, however, had a bad figure, he could hardly be called an impartial censor. He it was who vexed his soul because Roscius's gestures were as eloquent as Cicero's words. Some dances became merely ugly, consisting of high jumping and unnatural movements. Cato thought it horrible to watch a man twisting his limbs so outrageously.
Some wonderful mimic dances are painted on the walls of Pompeii and Herculaneum. They may have been noticed by Taglioni during her travels; for Czerwinski, in a short account of Taglioni's visit to the theatre of Vicenza in 1842, says, that when she was asked if she could form to herself an idea of the ancient dance, she simply raised her gown a little on both sides, and by this simple gesture at once showed that she was in harmony with the surroundings. She immediately reminded her travelling companions of the well-known antique statue of a dancer. She moved her feet slowly, remaining almost on the same spot, and swayed her head gently to and fro as if she were listening to the melody of Euterpe's pipe, and the folds of her gown moulded themselves softly round her limbs like woven ‘music.‘
The
dance among savages may be considered a just indication of their character; it plays a very important part in their daily life so important that there are races who have special dances for every day in the year and for every occasion in the day. There are people, moreover—some African tribes might be instanced—who could not live a single week without their dances. Nations which are in their infancy dance with the greatest ease and pleasure; the Negro, for example, begins to skip at the mere sound of the most rudimentary music, even under a broiling sun. Captain Stedman saw ‘a newly-imported Negro slave of Guiana figuring and footing it for nearly two hours to his shadow on the wall.’ Livingstone, watching a savage dance, wondered how such exertions could give pleasure. ‘It is very hard work, replied the dancer, ‘but it is very nice.’
The subject of dancing among savage tribes is so very exhaustive that it would require a volume of its own if treated adequately, and it can only be faintly indicated in this chapter. However strange some of the dancing customs of savages may appear to us, they are not consequently to be condemned. The advance of civilisation tends to weaken the picturesque aspect of life and to reduce everything to a smooth uniformity. Old rites are everywhere fast vanishing, without leaving a trace behind, and when this applies to the dances of savage peoples their disappearance is all the more to be deplored. For it is my firm belief, as I have already explained in the introduction, that all dances were originally a form of worship, and therefore
F
It is, however, most difficult —if not impossible—to prove
Dance of the Island of Jamaica
(
from an Engraving after A. Brunais
)
But, again, the religion of the savage, like that of the little child, is essentially egotistical. He invokes his deity so that he may get what he wants, or that the evil which threatens may be warded off. Mr. J. G. Frazer, the author of ‘The Golden Bough,’ tells me he believes that the more closely savage dances are looked into, the more prominent will appear their magical character.He thinks that a great many are pantomimes, intended to produce by ‘sympathetic magic’ the events which they imitate. What the savage mostly cares for are love, success
Buffalo Dance Ball-play Dance (
(
From Catlin's ‘North American Indian Portfolio’
)
F2From Catlin's ‘North American Indian Portfolio’
)
War dances are general, and of many varieties.They are sometimes a preparation for was, corresponding to the Pyrrhic dance of classic period, and to our drill.Such, for instance, is the ‘No Flight’ dance of Dakota.Young men are instructed in its movements by a sort of drill, accompanied by the recital of heroic deeds.These dances are rare, for they denote a foresight which the savage seldom possesses; but dances preceding
It has been said that, having by means of frantic movements worked themselves up to a pitch of exaltation, the dancers are liable to forget their pantomimic character, and occasionally chop off a head or two of their own brothers or friends.
To recall by means of gestures the actions of brave men must always have been part of the triumph, yet it is alleged that the savage is too practical a being to waste his efforts in
Scalp Dance of the Dakotas (
From ‘Indian Tribes of the United Stats’
)
Another very frequent practice, and a world-wide one, is performed by the warriors' wives, who keep up a dance, often lasting day and night, while their husbands are in battle. The women believe that this imitative rite will bring success to the warriors 3 also that the action will preserve their husbands from danger during sleep, and from the vengeance of the ghosts of the slain. The faithful wives fear to cease gyrating for an instant, lest that instant should prove fatal to the absent ones.
Next in order to the dances of love, hunting, and war come those used as exorcism—that is to say, for the purpose of warding off death, sickness, or sorcery. The votaries of such rites, similar in that respect to the Shakers of the Lebanon or to the followers of the Koran, whirl round until their movements graduate into frenzy. Foaming at the mouth, the dancers deem themselves inspired and gifted with powers of prophecy, of curing disease, or of dismissing evil spirits. All these dances are full of mysterious meanings.
The student of the history of dancing is struck by the fact that the notion of death has had at all periods, and among a great number of races, a place of its own in connection with the dance in one form or another. That savage tribes should have death dances is surprising, because it is inconsistent with their nature to represent in pantomime abstract ideas. There must be a
Mr. Brough Smyth states that, among the aborigines of Victoria, not only the death dance, but a development of a resurrection dance, is found. The dancers hold in their hands branches, with which they stroke each other's shoulders in rhythmic fashion. Forming long rows, then semicircles, they unite finally in a compact circular group. They then fail to the ground, hiding their heads under the green boughs, and, by remaining prone and immovable for some time, represent death. An old man, the leader of the dance, suddenly gives a signal by waving his branch over the group. All leap to their feet instantaneously, and break into a joyful dance, symbolic of the resurrection of the soul.
Chateaubriand, speaking of savages, says: ‘Dancing forms part of every action of their lives. They dance for weddings, to receive a guest, to smoke a calumet, to rejoice over the birth of a child, and, above all, for the dead.’ But before examining some variations of the death dance, I will speak of allied rites, such as the healing dances, which include some kinds of exorcism, and various ‘ghost’ and ‘devil’ dances.
Dances instituted for healing disease are so numerous that it would be impossible to follow them all. They are performed either by the medicine-men or the medicine-women; by the friends of the invalid or by the sick man himself.
The medicine-man of primitive races, it may be observed parenthetically, has many avocations. He sometimes combines the businesses of priest, physician, musician, prophet, rain-maker, and lawyer. His full title can best be summed up as ‘ mystery-man.’
Dancing is universally known to be conducive to the preservation of health, and it may Be remembered how Captain Cook attributed his crew's immunity from disease to their daily practice of the hornpipe. There is no doubt that the bodily exercise of the dance may prove beneficial in some complaints, and the use of the
Tarantella
of Naples and the
Tigritiya
of the Tigris Valley is evidence in its favour. But it is more difficult to understand how the dancing of a doctor or doctoress round a sick man's couch; how the antics of friends and relatives, shaking gourds filled with pebbles, and beating kettles and howling, how this confusion of hideous noises and bustle can act as a preventive measure against disease and death. For a long time I puzzled over this form of dance, until I was enlightened by Mr. J. G. Frazer's paper on ‘ Burial Customs as Illustrative of the Primitive Theory of the Soul;’ and as it furnishes a full explanation I cannot do better than quote the passage in
extenso
:—
It is well known that, according to primitive man, the soul of a sleeper departs from his body to wander far away in dreamland; indeed, the only distinction which early man makes between sleep and death is that sleep is a temporary, while death is a permanent, absence of the soul. Obviously, then, on this view sleep is highly dangerous to the sick man, for if in sleep his soul departs, how can we be sure that it will come back again? Hence, in order to ensure the recovery of a sick man, one of the first requisites is to keep him from sleeping. With this intention the Circassians will dance, play, and tell stories to a sick man by the hour. Fifteen to twenty young fellows, naturally selected for the strength of their lungs, will seat themselves round his bed and make night hideous by singing in chorus at the top of their voices, while from time to time one will create an agreeable variety by banging with a hammer on a ploughshare which has been thoughtfully placed for the purpose by the sick man's bed.
Among the Pehuenches of the Argentine, a sick man will be carried out in the sun; women and wizards dance round until they become exhausted, and then some horrible ceremonies are gone through, at the end of which the patient,
nolens volens
, is forced to join in the measure. A drum is a necessary accompaniment to this form of exorcism.
In Jamaica, the Obeah, or medicine-man, begins the cure by a dance which he performs himself. After he has beaten time long enough on a noisy instrument or implement, he falls to beating the sick man; he shakes him, stamps upon him, dances round him or with him—in fact, uses such gentle arts that the invalid is bound to receiver, or to die. No wonder that a doctor fusses over his patient when, as in Vancouver and Columbia, he runs the risk of being put to death himself if he fails to cure his charge. There it is believed that the non-recovery of an invalid is due to the deficiency of will to effect a cure, and not to the inability of the wise man or woman.
Catlin was witness of a scene where a dying man was surrounded by several hundred spectators, formed in a ring and leaving a space of about forty feet for the doctor with his operations:—
He approached the ring with a slow, halting step, his body and head covered with the skin of a yellow bear, his own head inside the mask of the bear, its claws dangling over his wrists and ankles. He shook a frightful rattle and brandished a medicine spear or magic wand. Added to all this din were his imitations of the yelps of an Indian dog, and of the grunting and snorting of a bear. These were incantations to the good and bad spirits on behalf of his patient, who was rolling and groaning in the agonies of death. The doctor jumped upon him, pawing him about and rolling him in every direction. This lasted for half an hour, when, to the surprise of the audience, the man died, and the medicine-man danced off to his quarters.
The medicine-women of the Moluches are described by Molina in his account of Araucania. These ladies seek the relief of their patients by singing, beating a drum, and shaking a rattle at them. Such modes of treatment, novel to us, mayballets d'action
. To this class must belong the medicinal dancing rites of many aborigines. In New Mexico, for instance, Mr. A. W. Buckland notes that a sacred lodge is erected for the performance of the dance which cures illness. A rattle and whizzer, or bull-roarer, accompany the rites, and sacred medicines are drunk by the patient, the doctor, and the spectators, while massage is not neglected. Part of the performance consists in the sudden appearance of a man covered with evergreens and resembling the English ‘Jack in the Green.’
The Iroquois have dances held by medicine-men; they are various, but all performed in the dark. On the death of one of the doctors a dance is held by the rest of the fraternity. It is not known whether any surviving patients take part in the ceremony.
Many attempts at curing are nothing more than a form of exorcism to frighten away the demons who cause sickness or other trouble. Devil dances are found in many lands. Tennent has ably described that of the Veddahs of Ceylon:
In order to avert storms and lightning, and when sick, they send for devil dancers to drive away the evil spirit, who is believed to have inflicted the disease. The dance is executed before an offering of something eatable placed on a tripod of sticks, the dancer having his head and girdle decorated with green leaves. At first he shuffles with his feet to a plaintive air, but by degrees he works himself into a state of great excitement and action, accompanied by moans and screams, and during his paroxysm he professes to be inspired with instructions for the cure of the patient.
The Singalese professional devil dancer, who is also a
Death dances in the assembly and terrifies the people, having hold of the reddish and black dart…
Having looked sternly with both eyes and terrified the people round about by perplexing their minds, now Death having danced and got money, you may depart.
The Burmese of to-day sing and dance beside the coffin of a dead priest.
The Tibetans call their mystery play the ‘ dance of the Red Tiger Devil.’ It has been said that the origin of the dance is founded on the idea of expelling the old year with its evil spirits, and gaining the favour of the good spirits of the new year. Probably all these Devil dances in remote times were associated with human sacrifices and possibly with cannibalism. At a later period they assumed a Buddhist or even a Christian meaning. Missionaries have often thought it meet to adopt local customs. For instance, pretty dances were performed in Goa, about 1650, by convert boys, who held garlands, and danced round a pillar crowned with a huge flower in the shape of a tulip, from which became visible the figures of the Virgin and Child. The Jesuits were of opinion that such dances were useful under existing conditions. The Lamas of the monastery of Himis also execute devil dances representing a wrestling-match between devils and saints, in which the latter are conquered, their souls being carried away into the Buddhist hell, the dark Naraka; while demons, or rather the figures of demons, which have remained on the scene, perform a sort of triumphant, dance, purposed to mock the vanquished saints. They brandish lances round a human figure drawn on the floor, and go wildly through the antics of a diabolic saraband, filling the spectators with terror. Buddha all the while smiles down upon them from the temple with unmoved gravity. To this convent, situated on a high rock which crowns a mountain rising out of the sacred waters of the Indus, pilgrims flock from all parts—Buddhists from Ladak, Tibetans from Lhassa in their long
The Devil dance in the Lamasery of Himis has been described by E. F. Knight in ‘Where Three Empires Meet.’
Examples of Devil dances are far too various to be enumerated. The custom often merges into the driving out of the ghost of a dead person. Mr. Frazer quotes an instance from the manners of the Kakhyens of Northern Burmah, on the Chinese frontier, where a death dance, having the object of expelling the ghost out of the house, and ‘accelerating his departure by a liberal application of the stick,’ was witnessed by Dr. Anderson and his companion, Colonel Sladen, who, in the words of Mr. Frazer, ‘joined in the lugubrious dance, and exerted themselves to such good purpose that, after two turns, the ghost fairly took to his heels and bolted out of the house, hotly pursued by the
premier danseur
with a stick.’ This conception of sending away the ghost of the deceased may be a root idea, and the key to the numerous funeral dances existing all over the world at every period of its history. In these dances, which serve the purpose of a spoken incantation, many savages paint their bodies with symbolic signs. The Moquis have drawings of snakes; others, again, pick out their ribs with white clay, to copy skeletons. In Cayenne the dancers wear a sort of straw dress and mask, much resembling a hayrick. One of the company sweeps round with a long whip, personifying Death, and each of the dancers takes up the part in his turn.
Riedel relates that among a tribe of Northern Celebes a war dance is performed on the ground owned by the deceased on the third or fourth day after his death. His friends are dressed in war costume and armed with shield and spear, to frighten away the soul, so that it may not return to torment the inhabitants of the hut.
In Central Brazil death festivities are held in the middle of the night. Professor yon den Steinen found that they consisted in digging up the bones of those who had died a few weeks before, and dancing round them, with funeral songs.
First Men's Song
Bowro—Central Brazil. Songs that are Sung
at their Funeral Dances
Second Song, by Men and Women
They decorate each bone with drawings, and ornament the skull with feathers. These ceremonies last several weeks, after which the bones are re-buried in an urn. Only the most distinguished Indians can aspire to be honoured by such a ceremony. A more pathetic dance is reported by Professor yon den Steinen from the Same country. Indians, in this celebration, act as though the dead person were present; they speak to his impersonation and shower caresses upon it.
In Africa dancing forms a part of the funeral. Laing says that the Sulma ‘bury their dead in perfect silence. Within a month they assemble again round the grave, the men dancing and shouting the Yelle, the women playing and singing.’ A variation of this practise has been noticed by Baker at Latuka, where the men were dressed in leopard or monkey skins, and adorned with ostrich feathers, carrying bells round their waists, and going through strange antics. The women went through a
Bear Dance
(
From Catlin's ‘North American Indian Portfolio
’)
Miss A. Blandford Edwards wondered if the habit common in Nubia of dancing at a grave belonged to ‘savage Africa,’ or whether it was an old Egyptian tradition, and she decided that it was Ethiopian. Mr. Walleschek believed that the custom could be traced back to the original population of Africa, before the era of Egyptian civilisation, and that it was handed down from these tribes to ancient civilised Egypt.
The ceremony has additional solemnity in Abyssinia, where, upon the death of a man of rank and influence, twelve judges, generally old men between sixty and seventy years of age, perform a funeral dance. In most dances of this class masks are worn, and it is curious to note that in Europe, until quite recent times, masks were usual at dances.
With the savage, dancing is a grave business. Primitive man is very much like a child, and a child naturally detests
A Dancing Dress in Central Brazil
(
By permission from Professor von den Steinen
)
Apart from the impulse to artistic work engendered by the dance, a benefit is conveyed by it in savage, or so-called savage, districts, through its use as a means of uniting tribes. It is a show of friendship and a truce between rival factions, just as private dances are given by a single member of the tribe who has taken an affection for another member, and desires to demonstrate his feeling with a dance.
Among us music and dancing are two distinct arts, but in the Australian plain, in the wild forests of Brazil, along the swampy shores of African rivers, or on the American prairie, dancing and song are still one single art expressive of concord and peace. We are taught our steps by dancing-masters; they show us how to form the figures; but the untutored savage moves in rhythm naturally, and he copies his figures from the Snow-shoe Dance
When the Warrau Redmen wish to settle disputes between kindred settlements, they perform a dance, in which all men and boys take part, each one carrying a large shield made of the leaf-stalks of the palm. Then a contest, accompanied by dancing, takes place, the vegetable shields being the only weapon, and whichever side conquers is considered to have the right cause. Mr. Oldfield says: ‘When some gifted individual
G
Most merely friendly contests are decided by the skill of the performers, either in continuing the movements, in singing loudest, or in making the most hideous faces, the last being a much valued accomplishment. The Araucanians dance in jerky steps, assuming grotesque poses to a dirge-like tune; but when once they have started, it seems impossible to stop either musicians or dancers. Their performance winds up in a great promenade, in which all take part, men, women, and children, howling, gesticulating, and marching truly in Indian file. The Loangas try deliberately, one by one, to make the spectators laugh by their contortions during the dance.
If one Greenlander thinks another has not behaved fairly to him, he shows no anger beyond composing an ironical poem, repeating it, with song and dance, to his household, until all know it by heart. A formal challenge is made, and accepted by the original offender; the two parties exercise their satirical powers upon each other in public, and the whole population adjudges the victory. Our methods during a general election are almost exactly similar, but do not invariably keep the opposing parties below boiling point. The Eskimos have a drum dance, which is held generally during their great summer meetings, in which they bandy satirical songs on the subject of their grievances or quarrels, and the group that can dance longest, or that evokes the loudest laughter, is the victorious litigant. Here is indeed an easy way of settling quarrels and inflicting punishment. Yet Dalager tells us that ‘there is nothing against which missionaries preach more vehemently than they do against this dance, affirming that it is the occasion of all sorts of misbehaviour.’ The author goes on to say that
Among the harmless pleasures of a savage dance is one reported by Mr. Boeck, who has discovered that in Java the dance concludes with the man kissing his partner, This good old custom prevailed in this realm during Queen Elizabeth's reign, and, as Mr. Chappoll quaintly remarks, ‘no doubt it added a charm to the dance.’
But there yet remains to be described the most important of all the functions of savage dances—namely, the dance as an initiation rite. The most sacred ceremonies are those in which a boy is initiated into the status of manhood. Professor Haddon remarks that, before that event, a lad ranks as a woman, and we know that amongst certain tribes an uninitiated woman ranks as an animal. However, the initiation rites are mostly held for men, and, as nearly everywhere they are of a very mysterious nature, it is not easy to learn much about them. In order to obtain full knowledge, a traveller would have to be initiated himself, and, as this must be a very rare occurrence, we have but very fragmentary evidence on this, the most important of all savage dances. There is a certain mystery dance in Eastern Dakota which verges upon the initiation Ceremony in its perfection. The Dakota aspirants go through concentric evolutions, each being provided with a ‘mystery sack,’ containing grass-roots, the bark of tree-roots, swansdown, and buffalo-hair. The rules laid down for a lad on his initiation are framed on moral principles. He must revere the sack, he must do honour to all those who belong to the dance, he must keep many sacred feasts, he must not listen to slander, he must not steal; and a woman must not have more than one husband.
The initiation dances described by Professor Haddon appear to be typical, and I will quote some passages of his own account of them:—
In the Torres Straits the initiation ceremony was followed by the recognition ceremony.…The dancing took place on the
G2
After some preliminary antics, some ten Daumer-le advance and jump about on both legs in a more or less crouching attitude, and rapidly beat their chests with the palms of both hands, momentary intervals occurring between each series of beats. Then they retreat. These men personify the Torres Straits pigeon (
Carpophaga luctuosa
). Like all the other performers, their bodies are covered with red earth, but these have their forearms painted black, recalling the black wing-feathers of the pigeon. The legs below the knees were also blackened. With a whirl and a rush a revolving group of men sweep across the sand-beach. There is an inner circle of young men, each of whom brandishes a stone club in the left hand, and bears a red stick in his right. The old men who form the outer circle have an arm-guard, with its cassowary feather ornament, on the left arm. They carry a stick, but not a club. The circular movement takes place in the direction of from left to right—that is, with the left side to the centre of the circle.
These operations are watched by the three Zogo-le, who slowly and sedately march along, till they come opposite to the spectators, and then they stand still. The reddened bodies of the Zogo-le were entirely covered with white feathers, and a mask of similar feathers obscured the features; an extra large arm-guard, ‘zogokadig,’ ensheathed the left forearm, and five rods were held in the right hand. Although they were visible to the women, the personality of the Zogo-le was supposed to be unknown to them, and something dreadful would happen should it be disclosed.
The old women heap up food in front of the Zogo-le, and the ceremony, as usual, concludes with a big feast.
The dances of the Zuñi, so well described by Mr. Cushing and Dr. Fewkes, partake of a semi-religious character. Dr. Fewkes's account mainly deals with the summer ceremonials of the Zuñi and their many rain dances. As he went among them armed, not only with a kodak to reproduce the dance and the costume, but also with a phonograph to reproduce the words and melodies of the dance song, his account is A CEREMONY OF THE ‘CLOWNS’ ON THE MORNING OF THE HAY-A-MASHAQUE DANCE IN ZUÑI
(
WALTER PEWKES
)
An account of a sun dance is given in the journal of Sioux City, Iowa. About 4,000 men and women took part in it. It had something to do with the solemn piercing of children's ears, and lasted several days. Some of the dancers went through horrible mutilations and suffering. Blankets, looking-glasses and eagles' feathers played a prominent part in the show, and almost all the dancers were on horseback. An Afghan dance, of a circular kind, may be included in the
Sword dances are numerous, and have probably a religious origin like the sword and spear dance of Europe; and whenever man has been dependent on his weapons for his very life, he has worshipped these weapons.
It has been much whether in early races men dance
Afghan National Dance African Dance of Man and Woman with Sword and Speaf
The Potlachs are festivals of the North-west tribes of Canada, in which blankets and dances play a prominent part. A chief will indifferently make a gift of blankets or of a new dance to a friendly chief; or he will give one, two, or three dances to his future son-in-law, in the guise of a dowry for his daughter.
Wedding dances are very numerous, and occasionally licentious. Those of Tahiti are especially pretty, as shown by the illustration.
It may be mentioned here, in connection with the domestic aspect of the savage dance, that when a Kaffir negro is unable to keep his wives in order, a dancing festival is held to settle the quarrel, and all the inhabitants of the village join in it. At midnight there is a sudden and great silence made, during which Mumbo Jumbo appears armed with a huge club. And that is the end of the festival, and, no doubt, of the domestic rebellion. Sanders says that the nightly moon dances in Africa are ‘the most beautiful, most harmless, and most peaceful of pleasures possible.’
Mere trials of skill are allied to the domestic dances. The Kukri dance of the hill station near Assam is a very difficult performance. Bottles are used instead of Kukris until proficiency is attained. The dancer has to turn round and round as the knives swing in the circle; he must raise his right arm and left leg, and
vice versâ
, to allow the cords to pass underneath.
In some countries—for instance, in Dahomey—the king or highest dignitary of state will perform a
TAHITIAN DANCEpas seul
in honour of a distinguished visitor, who, if he receives an invitation to join in it, must look upon it as a very high mark of favour. Travellers are often astonished at the grave countenances of the savage dancers, and believe that they have no pleasure in their performance But that is quite a mistake. Thackeray referred to the sad faces of the Irish country people when going through the diversion of the jig. This grave appearance is chiefly due to a power of mimicry—a power which primitive
(
From an Engraving by F. Bartolozzi
)
I will conclude this chapter by three examples of savage dances, taken in three different parts of the world.
Burchell describes the dance of the Bushman, who performs
The Kukri Dance at Assam
The audience accompanies the dance with song and waterdrum.
The Dance of the Bushmen
(
Quoted by Walleschek
)
The
Korrobarae
, also spelt Corroberee, &c. &c., has been written about by many travellers, and there are many conflicting reports about it. I will quote here Mr. James Dawson's account, as I believe it to be a most faithful one:
The korroborae consists of music, dancing, and acting. When
Before the korroborae commences—which is immediately after sunset—large quantities of dry bark, branches, and leaves are collected, and the young people are ordered to light the fire and attend to it. The men and well-grown boys retire to prepare themselves for the dance.
They paint their bodies and limbs with white stripes in such a manner as to give them the appearance of human skeletons; and they tie round their ankles a number of leafy twigs which touch the ground and make a rustling noise as they move. Each dancer wears the reed ornament in his nose. When they stand in a row these reeds have the appearance of a continuous line.
The women do not join in the dance, but sit in half-circle behind the fire and sing, accompanying their song with the sound of beating on the opossum rugs. Some of the men stand beside the fire, beating time with music sticks. After the music has begun one of the dancers emerges from the darkness into the open ground so as Just to be seen, and with a stamp sets himself with arms extended and legs wide apart and quivering, his feet shuffling in time to the music, and the twigs round his ankles rustling at each movement. He remains thus for a few seconds, and, turning round suddenly, disappears in the darkness with a rustling sound. Another dancer takes his place and goes through the same movements and disappears pears in the same way.…At length all the dancers are seen in a row, quivering and making a great rustling in time to the music, and advancing nearer and nearer to the fire until they come quite close, when a simultaneous loud groan is suddenly given, and the dance is over. The bright light of the fire shining on the white
Mr. James Dawson deplores the repression of the
Korroborae
by the Government officials, and, ‘as little or nothing in the form of amusement is substituted, the weary monotony, restraint, and discipline of these tutelary establishments have a very depressing effect on the minds and health of the natives, and impel them to seek relief in the indulgence of intoxicating drinks, and who can blame them?’
A third example comes from Herman Melville's account of a scene in the Marquesas:—
The young girls very often danced by moonlight in front Of their dwellings. There are a great variety of these dances, in which, however, I never saw the men take part. They all consist of active, romping, mischievous evolutions, in which every limb is brought into requisition. Indeed, the Marquesan girls dance all over, as it were; not only do their feet dance, but their arms, hands, fingers—ay, their very eyes seem to dance in their heads. The damsels wear nothing but flowers, and their compendious gala tunics; and when they plume themselves for the dance, they look like a band of olive-coloured sylphides on the point of taking wing.
The
above title may appear incongruous to many, but before I attempt to carry the reader further into this subject I wish to ask him to try to liberate himself from prejudices, individual or national, and to permit me to lead his thoughts into a channel which may be new to him. I will not argue whether the dance is useful as an element of worship or not. I will merely endeavour to show that it has been an accessory to religious rites from time immemorial, and that in our own days, and even in Europe, ritual dances still exist.
In the chapter devoted to the dances of savages, I have said that, in my opinion, all their dances were connected with their religion. It is, therefore, unnecessary to refer to them any further; this chapter will only deal with the ritual dances of civilised peoples.
The Egyptians danced in the temples and on the banks of the Nile as an act of homage to their deities. All the Greek dances were probably once part of a religious ceremony, which went from the temple to the theatre, and from there into private life. Professor Blackie remarks: ‘How hard it must be for a modern Presbyterian Christian to recognise in the twinkling-footed celerity of the merry dance an exercise which a pious old Dorian could look upon as an act of public worship I’ Some of the Greek philosophers tried to explain the origin of the sacred dances by their conception of the deity which they considered as the Harmony of the world, and they thought the deity was best honoured by a mimic representation of the concord of its perfections expressing itself in the choral dance.
Ancient Rome had its Salii, priests whose mission it was to lead the festal dance. The Hebrews went, as we know, through solemn rhythmic evolutions in the temple, in the vineyards and in the fields. David's dance was a ritual dance, and it is best described by Dante. Rossetti's translation runs:
There went before the consecrated chest
The humble Psalmist? leaping as he danced,
And at that time was less and more than king.
At the Jewish Easter festival the great Hallelujah was sung by a chorus moving in rhythm. The Essaer, a Jewish sect, formed two choruses, one of men and one of women, and sang hymns of praise, accompanying them with slow dance movements and finally uniting in one chorus in memory of Miriam's dance. The Rabbinic books refer several times to the Creator dancing as a token of joy after He had made man. Luther also, translating Psalm cxviii. 27, compares the poplar boughs to the birches we set up at Whitsuntide as may-trees, round which the May or Whitsun dance is performed. (Delitzsch).
There was formerly no ritual without a dance, for there was no ritual without music, and the two arts were once inseparable We, who repudiate the thought of the dance as an expression of devotional feeling, still keep music as an accessory of the cult; and only a few nations, in whom some mystic element has remained, cling to the time-honoured custom of the pious dance.
The dance was once regarded as an outward sign, as a symbolic manifestation of humility, and as an expression of joyous gratitude. It is thus that the early Christians interpreted the dance. Gregory, bishop of Neocæsarea, states that St. Paul called the dance useful in the ritual. In the ‘Acta Joannis,’ an apocryphal romance, written by a person who calls himself Lencius and represents himself as a disciple of St. John, the Apostle is made to say that after the Last Supper our Lord called the Apostles to join hands and dance round Him while a hymn was sung. This is not incompatible with the Jewish customs; and would probably represent a form of thanksgiving.
The choral dance of the Easser, already mentioned, was held after supper, and was no doubt a form of grace.
It is probable that, in spite of St. Basil's recommendation to the faithful, urging them to practise the dance as much as possible upon earth, because it is the principal occupation of
Miriam' Dance
(
From an Engraving after William Hensel
)
That these customs were really current we know from evidence; each feast day had its appropriate hymn
and dance
. On the vigils of saints' days the worshippers met at the church doors, and sang and danced in the churchyard as people can still be seen to dance in Greece.
When speaking generally of the religious dances of the Christian Church, we must picture to ourselves solemn movements with beautiful figures and symbolic attitudes, accompanied by hymns. The church dance was never a mixed dance, but every sex formed its own chorus. The reverse would have been impossible, as women occupied a separate part of the church, and were quite divided from men by gratings such as are found in convents.
Little by little the dances degenerated; just as the grand Dionysiac chorus became the ‘impious dinos,’ so the early Christian festivals became extravagant and mixed with touches of barbarism and paganism. We know most about these practices from the edicts against them. The Council of 692 expressly forbade dancing in churches and graveyards. But in the thirteenth century dancing, together with music and poetry, was once more allowed in the very sanctuary by the introduction of the mystery plays. They were dramatic representations of Biblical scenes, first performed by priests and acolytes, later also by laymen. In some cases an awning was spread in front of the
In mediæval times the theatre, as a building, was unknown, and the general meeting-place for relaxation or for devotion was the church and its surrounding graveyard.
It would be difficult to realise the scenes which occurred in connection with these ceremonies unless we realised at the same time the ignorance and the barbarism of the period preceding the Renaissance, a period when devotion and license were strangely combined in the same people. Some of the functions, no doubt, were a survival of paganism. St. Augustine had already called the dance a pagan custom. He says: ‘The Christians have kept pagan customs, among others that of dancing and singing on feast days.’ Yet that it once was a ritual we know from St. Chrysostom, who excused himself from joining the festal dance on the score of illness.
The English bishop Meletius, advised by Pope Gregory I., allowed the dance in the Church up to 604; and the practice went from Britain into Germany, together with the introduction of the Gospel, which was mainly due to Britain. We may assume that these customs remained unprohibited for five or six hundred years; after that edicts were issued by Council after Council, but without in the least causing a cessation of the practices. France is the country from which we have the greatest amount of details concerning Church dances, partly because they survived longest in Gaul and in France, and partly because a very interesting book written by the Père Ménestrier furnishes us with ample details. This book was written in 1683, and the author tells us that he has himself seen in the churches of Paris the senior canon leading the choir-boys in a circular dance while singing hymns of praise. The practice was certainly allowed by the Fathers; for we can read in the Liturgy of Paris: ‘Lechanoine ballera au premier psaume.’ This dignified and gentle moving in rhythm to the song was not in any way reprehensible, and the edicts forbidding dancing
H
La Prose de L'Ane
Andante
In a Latin manuscript of the sixteenth century an account is given of ball-playing in the church of Sens. It was the
H 2
At Besançon an ecclesiastic dance took place on Easter Day up to 1738. This was an expression of happiness and of gratitude, and the clergy founded the ceremony on the Biblical dances of rejoicing. In the church of Mary Magdalene at Besançon was held a dance called Bergerette. The tune has been preserved in a MS. of Hughes de Vilete.
Bergerette
Fidelium sonet vox sobria,
Convertere Sion in gaudia,
Sit omnium una lætitia
Quos unica redemit gratia.
Châlons and Aix-en-Provence also had such customs, and at Limoges on the day of St. Martial at the end of each psalm, instead of ‘Gloria Patri,’ the people sang in their
Mediæval Dancing Legendpatios
: ‘Saint Marceau, pregas per nous et nous epingaren per bous’ (‘St. Martial, pray for us; and we will dance for you’). In 1738 this was forbidden, but a solemn procession round the cloisters,
(
From a woodcut in the ‘Liber Chronicarum Mundi
,’ 1493)
In mediæval times dancing developed into a sort of passion among all classes. The Nuremberg ‘Chronicle,’ 1493, has a curious legend, which portrays the true spirit of the period. The print here given represent some young people of Saxony dancing in the churchyard of St. Magnus. There were fifteen youths and four maidens (wall-flowers cannot have
Much has been written about the mediæval dancing mania, which has inspired poets and has puzzled scientists. The rage became endemic, and in 1374 the number of sufferers from the St. Vitus's dance became enormous. In France it was called ‘Danse de St. Guy,’ and in Germany it took the name of ‘Veith.’ In Lorraine it was called ‘La Danse de St. Jean.’ The Rev, John Morris quotes the following quaint poem which describes it:
I
L'an treize cens soixante et quatorze,
A Metz advint piteuse chose,
Qu'en Ia cité, ville et champs,
Gens danssoient du bien St. Jean.
II
C'estoit une pitié admirable,
A merveille très-pitoyable,
Car tousles plus réonfortés
Estoient fort épouvantés.
III
Fur en dormant, fut en veillant,
Fur sur poure, ou sur vaillant,
Onque la fortune tomboit,
Tantost danser les convenoit,
IV
Le Prestre en faisant son office,
Les Seigneurs séans en justice,
Le laboureur en son labeur,
Sur qui que tomboit la douleur.
V
Et danssoient neuf ou dix jours,
Sans avoir repos ny séjour,
Ou plus ou moins à Fadventure,
Comme est le mal aux créatures.
VI
Ils danssoient en Sainct Jean en chambre,
L'un l'autre ne pouvoit attendre;
De la cité y eut des danssants,
Que grans que petis, bien quinze cens.
This account has its importance, for it is possible that in the dancing disease we may find the root-idea of the several dancing processions of the Catholic Church. It seems likely that, in order to free themselves from their affliction, the sufferers may have undertaken a pilgrimage to some saint, and that afterwards the ceremony was kept up in token of gratitude and of joy at emancipation from the evil.
In the Ardennes there is every year to this day the dancing procession of Echternach. It is in honour of an English saint, St. Willibrord, who was the apostle of Friesland, Denmark, and Luxemburg, and who lived about 690. His favourite foundation was the monastery of Echternach, near the little town of the same name, surrounded by wooded hills. St. Willibrord was specially famous for his miraculous curing of nervous diseases, and in 1892 the procession counted 14,000 people. At various times it has been prohibited; in 1777 the Archbishop of Trèves forbade it, but subsequently withdrew the restriction. During the French Revolution it was stopped, but in 1814 ten thousand dancers again went, dancing to the shrine at Echternach.
‘Up to the seventeenth century’ the dance was often obligatory in many lands. It was, as I say in my chapter on French Dances, a feudal
hansel
, and the prince-bishops probably also demanded this act of servitude. At stated times every house had to send one man to the dance with an offering of money; but this offering was slight in comparison to the usual tolls, and therefore the dance assumed the form of a tribute of gratitude. Dr. Auguste Neyen thinks that ‘the tribute imposed by a Churchman, who was also the sovereign, would have to be paid at the shrine of the saint, and that the taste of the times carried the dance into the church and around the altar.’ The Rev. John Morris says that
In 1506, when Erard de la Marck was made Prince-Bishop of Liège, he found the Verviétois had neglected their procession for thirty or forty years. He announced to them that they must either pay or play; and, as paying meant a tax or octroi, they preferred to revive the procession. The Prince-Bishop is reported to have imposed on them as a penance that they should dance with the left thumb turned to the spectators and, we are told when, through fatigue, they dropped their thumb, all the bystanders cried out in Liège
patois
, ‘L'pôse à haut:’ (‘Thumb up;’), which phrase has become proverbial at Liege for being hard pressed.
Another suggestion as to the origin of the Echternach procession may be found in the form of a penitential vow. The sufferers were told that in order to make the pilgrimage with success they would have to walk back one step out of every three. When large numbers of pilgrims assembled, it became necessary to keep time in this extraordinary mode of progression, and a tune was played to which a dancing step was adapted. At present the ‘Jumping Saints’ (‘Les Saints dansants’), coming from Luxemburg, Belgium, France, and Prussia, begin their pilgrimage on Whit Tuesday on the banks of the Sûre, the river which divides Luxemburg from Prussia. The leaders are the villagers from Prüm, who have to journey about thirty-six miles before they can reach the Sûre. They start from Prüm on Sunday, and travel singing and praying till
(
By kind permission of John Gerard, editor of the ‘Month
’)
Of this immense band each set of eight pilgrims travels abreast, holding handkerchiefs or sticks as they move, so as to keep time, and it takes them four hours to dance the distance of 1,500 mètres; the regulation step being more gliding than springing, and the whole effect grave, serious, and suited to a religious dance. Up to the seventeenth century no women took a share in the pilgrimage; now men and women dance apart, children follow the band of their own village, and they often appear so little tired with their four hours' dancing that they frequently double them, for no sooner have they reached the church than they run back to the end of the procession and begin again ! The procession mounts the flight of sixty-two steps of the church without interrupting the dance; then they enter the door of the left aisle, turn round the altar in the choir, and go out by the right aisle. Not for an instant does the dance stop; the musicians go on playing their wild melody, the old Roman arches seem to quiver with the thrill of the thousands of measured steps, and the ranks are
It may be surprising that so little has been written concerning this strange survival of a time of simple faith and of religious spirit; but these dances were once quite common in Catholic lands, and people did not think of noting down every-day events. At Seville, the dance of Los Seises is performed to this day on Corpus Christi and the Immaculate Conception, during the octaves of the two feasts, and on the three days of carnival. This dance is performed by twelve choir-boys in two divisions of six, hence Los Seises (the Sixes). The function takes place about vesper-time in presence of the Cardinal Archbishop in full canonicals and the cathedral clergy in front of the high altar, which is brilliantly lighted by thousands of candies. Boys of about twelve or thirteen dance before the Holy Sacrament, castanet in hand, and wear a quaint mediaeval dress, blue for the feasts of the Virgin, and red for Corpus. The dance belongs to the Musarabic rite, and was introduced by Cardinal Ximenes in Toledo as also in Seville. At various times an effort has been made to stop the practice, but it has survived to this day, and every eye-witness acknowledges that the effect produced by the dance is highly reverent and poetic. It is forbidden to print the music, which is very beautiful. I am indebted for the accompanying musical example (p. 108) to the kindness of some nuns of Seville who have been so good as to note it down for me.
The steps of this dance are not unlike those of the minuet. The castanets are of ivory., the shoes and stockings worn El Baile de los Seises in the Cathedral of Seville before the Holy Sacrament. (After Gustave Doré
(
By permission of Messrs. Sampson Low, Marston & Co
.)
Baile de los Seises
Introduccion
Estrivillo
Repeat the Estrivillo for another verse, and the V. S. to Coplas.
Coplas
The same feeling will move the Spaniard to dance a Jota before a corpse, if it be that of a young and innocent being. He will rejoice that the child has been saved from the troubles of this life and from sin; he believes firmly that it now has
Perhaps a similar idea prompts the women of Saharanpur, in Northern India, to sing and dance joyously after the death of a man of great age. In this case the joy might be caused
A Funeral Jota. (After Gustave Doré)
(
From Ch. Davillier's ‘Spain,’ by permission of Messrs. Bickers & Son)
Funeral dances are a widespread custom, and the Irish wakes enter into this category. I have seen also many funeral dances performed in South America by Catholics after the death of a child or of a young girl. At Bailleul, in Flanders, a song and dance are given by the companions of a girl after her remains have been carried to the cemetery. The survivors take the winding-sheet and move it in rhythmic fashion, singing the accompanying song. This custom dates back to
Other continents have also religious dances. Mr. Theodore Bent relates that in the Abyssinian Church they have sacred dances, supposed by the Ethiopians to have been derived from David; but Mr. Bent believes, and I believe it with him, that they have been handed down from pagan times, and that ‘the excuse of David has been invented to maintain this favourite and really graceful form of worship amongst them.’ These dances reminded the traveller of the choral worship of Dionysius.
The cross and the brass basin have taken the place of the altar, the frankincense is there, and the singing and chanting are carried on in the form of a dialogue, as if one priest was announcing to another some good news which prompted hilarity; the black-faced, bare-legged priests, with white turbans and red velvet cloaks, a sistrum in one hand and a crutch in the other, waved to and fro in the mazy dance, whilst boys beat the drums to regulate the time.
Egypt has mystical dances yet; the Dancing Dervishes, or
Dance of Howling Dervishes
(
From an Engraving after C. N. Cochin
, 1787)
Returning to the religious dances of Europe, it is necessary to mention the Guglia di San Paolino, performed annually on June 26 in front of the cathedral and in the very sanctuary at Nola, near Naples. It is held in honour of San Paolino, who, when he returned from Barbary to Nola, was greeted by the
Dance of Turning Dervishes
(
From an Engraving after C. N. Cochin, 1787
)
Prætorius describes most dances and ghoul dances, which were symbolic of the unrest of the departed sinners; and this brings us to witch dances, which have played such a prominent part in poetry, drama, and opera, from the witches in
La TarasqueMacbeth
downwards. Lanner has composed a witches' waltz, and Goethe's ‘Walpurgis Nacht’ has inspired Gounod. In reality the witch dances are an offspring of the ancient pagan ritual dances. They were so essentially a feature of Celtic
Who was Walpurga? A saintly nun of England whose feast day fell on May 1 (May-day), the great spring day, and the
Ancient Danish Walpurgis Dance
(
From Bochure by Permission of Messrs. Breitkopf & Härtel Leipzig
)
Another famous dancing occasion is the Eve of St. John when in so many parts of Europe, even in this nineteenth century, dances are held round fires and through fires. This day was
To me, who have tried to study the history of the dance in all its aspects, it seems extraordinary that it should be looked upon by so many people in the present day as incompatible with reverence and piety, for in the early account of most civilised nations we can find the dance combined with music and with song as a leading element of the religious rites.
We
are sometimes apt to think that dancing—spontaneous dancing, dancing from pure lightness of heart on all occasions of festivity, such as we see among the people of certain other nations—is foreign to our clime and race. We are said to be a phlegmatic people, not given to any violent display of our feelings, and very sparing always in the use of gesture. We are self-contained and self-conscious to a degree, and are astonished, not to say scandalised, at the sight of a Sicilian expressing every feeling as it passes over him by vigorous gesticulation, varied often by laughter and tears. These things are not natural to such a sober and serious-minded nation, and we speak of a ‘French dancing-master’ in a tone of pitying superiority; while, if you go into an English ball-room, you will find little that is distinctively English, most modern dances, such as the waltz or polka, having been imported from abroad. But there is no nation, however staid, which does not possess some really national dances, and to discover these in England we must go back to early times—to dances which have long ago disappeared from our English ball-rooms—or we must penetrate into our country districts, where we shall find our native dances still surviving; or indeed we may meet with a revival of them, introduced to grace some village festival or country ‘merry night.’ One dance indeed we have which is called our national dance
par excellence
—namely, the Hornpipe; and, as we are a nation of sailors, it is but right and proper that this should be the sailor's dance, and should most fittingly be performed
And this dance is really very characteristic of the English. The versatile and lively Italian accompanies his dancing with varied facial expression; the Englishman dances with a solemn countenance, as if he were engaged in some most serious business. The Spaniards or Italian will gesticulate freely, and wave his tambourine or castanets; the Englishman dances with his lower limbs only, keeping his arms usually in one position. In conversation we do not express our meaning by gesticulation. Why should we require it in our dancing? The dances of a country are not something extraneous to it; they have grown up with the people, and possess their peculiarities, as a garment fits itself to the shape of the wearer.
Sailor's Hornpipe
(
From an Engraving after F. H. Ramberg, circa 1100)
But dancing is by no means foreign to our English nature, and the courtiers of the sixteenth century were celebrated for it; in 1598 they were said indeed to excel in dancing and music. They had always loved the dance, but the fashion was perhaps set by the Queen, who was passionately fond of the Pavane. There is a legend that Elizabeth bestowed the office of Lord Chancellor on Sir Christopher Hatton, not for any surpassing knowledge of the law, but because
Sir Christopher Hatton is mentioned in Gray's ‘Long Story:’
Full oft within the spacious walls,
When he had fifty winters o'er him,
My grave Lord Keeper led the brawls;
The seals and maces danced before him.
His bushy beard and shoe-strings green,
His high-crown'd hat and satin doublet,
Moved the stout heart of England's Queen,
Tho' Pope and Spaniard could not trouble it.
The high spirits and great bodily health of the English make them naturally good dancers. Their dances are full of fun, and often resemble nothing so much as a good romp; their country-dances, from the Maypole revel to Sir Roger de Coverley, are gay, wholesome, and hearty, eminently characteristic of the people; but, while not wanting in grace, they are without that elegance and softness of movement which we associate with French or Spanish dancing. Much of this difference is due to difference in climate; with chilly springs, and summers which are uncertain, to say the least of them, England is not adapted to a great variety of outdoor dances. But the return of spring brings with it many tender memories; it is ushered in with many quaint and ancient customs, and so among the May-day festivities we find the dance taking a prominent place, just as in other lands June, bringing with it the Feast of St, John, is the month of dances.
Dancing has always been considered a necessary part of a gentlewoman's education. The ‘Anatomy of Melancholy’ even asserts that a young woman can dance and sing and play before she can repeat her Pater Noster or the Ten Commandments—that is, before marriage—for matrimony has such a sobering effect that one who before marriage has had infinite trouble and expense bestowed upon these accomplishments, will not so
Riseth up full courtisly,
And her embraceth in his armes narrow.
In fact, the custom was peculiarly English, until the Puritans, in their reaction against thoughtless frivolity, condemned all innocent amusement. The ‘Histriomastix’ denounces dancing in no measured terms: it ‘serves no necessary use, no profitable, laudable, or pious end at all,’ and it is fraught with terrible danger to Christian men. ‘The way to heaven is too steep, too narrow, for men to dance in and to keep revel rout. No way is large or smooth enough for capering roisters, for jumping, skipping, dancing dames, but that broad, beaten, pleasant road that leads to Destruction.’
As dancing was a common and favourite occupation among Strutt's
Hoppan
, to hop;
saltian
, or
stellan
, to leap,
tumbian
, to tumble: we get little idea of the mode of the dance from such words as these. Chaucer calls the dancers tumblesteres or saylors (from Latin
salio
), and they were also called sauters, from French
sauter
, to leap. Hence Piers Plowman: ‘I can neither saylen ne saute.’ But as in those days the arrival of the minstrel, as he travelled from hall to hall or from hut to hut, was eagerly looked for, seeing that from him news of all that was going on in the distant world might be obtained, so too we shall find some meagre records of the dance from accounts of the Saxon gleemen. Dance and song have always been closely wedded to one another, and the singers, who recited long tales of battle or of love to the thrumming of an old harp, were probably also dancers. Thus we find that in Ardgar's oration to Dunstan, the mimi, or minstrels, are said to ‘fling and dance.’ The Saxon gleeman's dances were varied; for, as his audience extended from the thrall in his cottage up to the thane in his castle, so must his dances be made to please the vulgar and the mighty. Besides music and dancing, these minstrels performed a number of tricks and jokes of the rudest kind; these were often called the glee-games, which are defined as ‘merry tricks, jests, sports, and gambols.’Sports and Pastimes.
T. Wright.
The use of the Anglo-Saxon terms for leaping and tumbling to indicate the dance shows that the dances of the gleemen consisted largely of vaulting and tumbling. The village wakes in the North of England are still kept up under the title of The ‘Hopping,’ and a
hop
is common Lancashire for a dance.
To dance upon one foot was a favourite feat of the Saxon gleemen or Norman minstrels, and this was especially the accomplishment of women, who were called
hoppesteres
.
The Egg Dance was one which required wonderful skill in this direction; in fact, to be able to dance it was taken as a token of great agility. Thus one of the characters in the Elizabethan comedy, ‘The Longer Thou Livest the more Fool Thou Art,’ says: ‘Upon my one foote I can hoppe and daunce it trimley about an egge.’ The dance as performed at Sadler's Wells was as follows: A number of eggs were placed at certain distances marked upon the stage; the dancer took his stand and was then blindfolded. When the music struck up a hornpipe he went through all the paces and figures of the dance, passing backwards and forwards between the eggs without touching them. Strutt.
K
Strutt.
Tumblers and Jugglers
(
From Eccleston's ‘English Antiquities,’ 1847
)
Another feat of the gleemen was ball-playing, which consisted in throwing three balls and three knives alternately into the air, and catching them one by one as they fell, but returning them in regular rotation. This feat was generally done to music, usually that of an instrument of the viol kind.
If we advance from Saxon times to the early Middle Ages—by which we mean the ages after the Conquest—we may divide
Perhaps the most important of the dances performed by ‘minstrels, jogelours, and tumblers,’ is the Carole, described with great minuteness by Chaucer in his ‘Romaunt of the Rose.’ He says of the Parish Clerk:
In 20 manners he coude skip and daunce
After the Schole of Oxenfordè tho',
And with his leggès casten to and fro.
It is also one of the domestic dances, and was usually danced by ladies and gentlemen alternately, who held each other's hands, and danced in a circle. The name was originally given by the Trouvères to a dance in which the performers moved slowly in a circle, singing as they went; the term first of all signified songs intermingled with dancing, in which sense it is used by Chaucer and other ancient writers. Sandys,
K 2
Christmas Carols.
Sandys,
Christmas Carols.
Ibid.
Polydore Virgil says (‘Hist. Angl.,’ lib. 13) that it was the practice of the English as early as the reign of Henry II. (about 1170) to celebrate their Christmas with plays, masques, and magnificent spectacles, together with games of dice and dancing. He derives many of the particulars from the Roman Saturnalia, and considers the Christmas Prince, or Lord of Misrule, a personage almost peculiar to this country. From this time mummeries (the word ‘mumm’ is said to be derived from the Danish, to disguise with a mask) and disguisings, with plays and pageants, appear to have been introduced among the diversions of the King and nobles at Christmas; but they were probably in vogue among the inferior orders at an earlier period,
It was the custom of the heathen in the Kalends of January to go about dressed up as wild beasts and cattle, and the sexes also exchanged apparel.
During the Middle Ages it was usual for the household to dance after dinner. Dancing generally took place in the apartment known as ‘the great chamber,’ but often also in the hall, and sometimes in the gallery, which occupied the whole length of the roof of most fifteenth-century houses. Musical accompaniment was provided by minstrels, or else the ladies themselves would sing; the musicians were on the same floor as the dancers, until later times, and especially at festivals, when they occupied a music gallery over the screens or entrance passage to the hall.
L. Cutts.
And after dinner gan they to daunce
And singe also; sauf Dorigen alone.
In thirteenth and fourteenth century romances and fabliaux, again, such as in the romance of ‘La Violette,’ or that in which a knight, having received hospitality at a feudal castle, after dinner washes his hands, drinks, and then proceeds to dance:
Ses mains
Lava, et puis l'autre gent toute,
Et puis se burent toute à route,
Et por l'amor don chevalier,
Se bout trestint apparillier
De faire
T. Wright.
Once more, in the romance of ‘Launfal’ we have a similar allusion:
And after mete Syr Gaweyn,
Sir Gyeryes and Agrafayn
And Syr Launfal also,
Went to daunce upon the grene
Unther the tour ther lay the quene
Wyth syxty ladyes and mo.
Yet again from the same romance:
The Quene yede to the formeste ende
Betweene Launfal and Gauweyn the hende (polite)
And after her ladyes bright;
To daunce they went all yn same
To see them playe hyt was fair game,
A lady and a knyght;
They had menstrelles of moche honours,
Fy-delers, sytolyrs and trompeters
And else hyt were unryght.
In the French ‘Débat de la Demoiselle et de la Bourgeoise’ the latter accuses the gentlewoman of late rising, whereupon she replies: ‘No; but we must spend our evening in dancing, and cannot do as you who go to bed the same time as your hens.’ A strict household, even of the highest rank, gave no time for such frivolities as dancing: rise at seven, dine at eleven or twelve; after dinner state business and only fifteen minutes for recreation; supper at five, and bed at eight, the interval between supper and bed being spent over the wine-cup, a less innocent, certainly less healthful, occupation, than the dance.
English Dance Tune
(
From Chappell's ‘Old English Popular Music,’ by kind permission
)
From the early, part of the Fourteenth Century
In the fifteenth century dancing received fresh impetus from the introduction of new dances, some of them of a more active and exciting description than their predecessors. One of the characters in the early interlude of the ‘Four Elements’ talks of persons
That shall both daunce and spring,
And tome clean above the grounde
With fryscas and with gambaudes roundes
That all the hall shall ryng.
T. Wright,
History of Domestic Manners.
It was perhaps this new element of ‘frisks and gambaudes’ that brought about a slight reaction against dancing; at any rate, it is certain that the love of dancing had been carried to a great degree of extravagance, which often led to dissoluteness in social manners, so that the more zealous moralists preached against dancing. Society during this century was undergoing
T. Wright.
Fille, quant serez en
Karolle
,
Dansez gentiment par mesure,
Car, quant fille se desmesure,
Tel la voit la tient pour folle.
Excellent advice, which we hope had a good effect.
The
Dyer.Morris Dance
, though one of the most ancient of English dances, has still survived in country districts down to the present day, without having lost any of its most characteristic features, as the carole has done. The Morris dance was probably introduced into England in Edward III.'s reign, and it is connected through the fool, one of its characters, with the gleemen of Saxon times and the Norman jongleurs. It was one of the most popular amusements of Old England. The name is derived from Morisco, a dance peculiar to the Moors, and shows that the dance had a Moorish origin. It was generally performed on May Day, and introduced several characters, varying in numbers, appellation, and dress, according to taste or local customs, many different features being added as time went on. The characters usually represented were out of old English legend or romance, and were such as Robin Hood, Maid Marian, Scarlet, Stokesley, Little John, the Hobby-horse, the Barian or Fool, Tom the Piper with his pipe and tabor, and the Dragon (of which there is no mention before 1585).a Morris for Mayday
.”’
In the Morisco, the dancers held swords in their hands, with the points upwards; this custom connects the dance with the ancient Pyrrhic or sword dance, and we find that the Goths did the same in their military dance. A frequent trick practised by the Hobby-horse, a character performed by a man dressed in pasteboard with a horse's head, was to carry a dagger stuck in his cheek. In Haydock's translation of ‘Lomazzo on Painting,’ we read: ‘There are other actions of dancing used, as of those who are represented with weapons in their hands going round in a ring, capering skilfully, shaking their weapons after the manner of the Morris, with divers actions of meeting, &c.; others hanging Morris bells upon their ankles.’ Many quotations can be given to show the popularity and the prevalence of this dance. One opinion is that it is ‘a very curious custom, observed by noble, royal, and vulgar persons.’ Tollet.
An exact description of the Morris dance (the Tripudium Mauritanicum) is not easy to give. Some say it is a kind of hornpipe; at any rate, there was a good deal of action in it, and it cannot be accused of too much sedateness or gravity. Says one of Shakespeare's characters, ‘I have seen him caper like a wild
Reed.
Reed. Kemp's Dance from London to Norwich, in 1599Morisco
, shaking the bloody darts as he his bells.’ Yet again, in Marston's ‘What You Will' (1607) we find the expressive sentence: Your wit skips like a
Morisco
.’ Moriscos or Morris-dancers find their place in the masques of the seventeenth century, as in ‘Albion's Triumph’ (1631), where the seventh entry consists of ‘mimicks or moriscos.’ Perhaps at the performance of some such masque on the occasion of village festivals (no doubt of frequent occurrence) the bells needed were purchased by the community,Ibid.thrift
, formerly called ‘Our Lady's Cushion.’ To appear without this was to be ‘unmorriced,’ and Soto, in ‘Women Pleased,’ rebukes one of his subordinates for appearing before him unmorriced in these words:
Where are your bells, then?
Your rings, your ribbons, friend, and your clean napkin,
Your nosegay in your hat?
Soane.
In 1599, William Kemp, a comic actor of high reputation, attracted much attention by dancing the Morris from London to Norwich, and he afterwards published a curious pamphlet,
Dyce.
Skip it and trip it nimbly, nimbly,
Tickle it, tickle it lustily;
Strike up the tabour for the wenches' favour,
Tickle it, tickle it lustily.
Let us be seene in Hygate Greene,
To dance for the honour of Holloway.
Sing we are come hither, let us spare for no leather,
To dance for the honour of Hollowa.
Daniel.
The dance was certainly known in Scotland, as a verse in the ballad ‘Christes Kirk of the Grene’ shows; it runs as follows:
Auld Lychtfute thair he did forleit,
And counterfeited Franss,
He used himself as man discreit,
And op the Moreiss danss,
He tuik
At Christes Kirk of the Grene.
From this it would seem that dancing was considered to be quite a French fashion. Scott also in the ‘Fair Maid of Perth’ has a reference to this dance. Speaking of Fastern's E'en and the jollifications of the day, he specially mentions one company of reveilers who had been particularly applauded and who seemed to be unwilling to conclude their frolic. This is his description: ‘The Entry, as it was called, consisted of thirteen persons wearing chamois leather doublets, slashed and laced, green caps, silver tassels, red ribands, white shoes, bells at their knees and ankles, and carrying naked swords in their hands.
A ceremony called ‘Disguising,’ in which both men and women took part, included Morris-dancing, and the following passage is from Collier's ‘History of Dramatic Poetry,’ and will close our account of the Morris:—
Furst iij yoman waiters to beir iij torchies to light them into the hall, and when the saide Disguisars ar comyn into the hall than the said parsonnes that berith the saide lightes to make their obeysaunce and depart, or ellis to stand on side, and the iiij minstrallis such as the Lord hath at that time, there to stande in the hall before the disguisars come, and as soon as they come the minstrallis to stand aside and play. And then the disguisars to make their obeysaunce altogeder and daunce. And when the disguisars hath doon their daunces than ½ stand up on the one side and ½ upon the other, if there be no women. Provided always that their women be disguised, then they to come in first. And if the women be disguised then half of the minstrallis to set in the other disguisars with the lights after they have brought in the women and they have daunced, made obeysaunce and stande aside. And they do as the others did before and then stand upon the other side. The men always give the women the first position. The minstrallis always shall bring them in playing the dances to be danced. When they have done in like case the Morris to come in incontinent as appointed. And when they here the said minstrallis play than to come out one after another, as appointed. And when they have done to go forth in like case as they came into the saide toure, or thing devised for them. Always reservid to the master of the disguisings to order it as he shall think best and convenient; and when the Moris is doone then the gentillmen to come unto the women and make their obeisaunce and every of them to taike one by hand and daunce such base daunees as is appointed them; and that doon then to daunce such rounds as shall be appointed them to daunce togerder by the master of the revills, and that doone to bring the women to their plaices again, and make their obeysaunces, and then depart to their oune plaices where they stood before.
Staines Morris
(
From Chappells ‘Old English Popular Music,’ by kind permission
)
From the discussion of Morris dances, the transition is easy to that of May-day celebrations in general; for, as we have
Collier gives a list of May games, which seem to have taken place throughout the month of May: ‘On the 30th of May [1557] was a jolly game in Fanch-church Strett, with drumes and geines and pykes, and the 9 wordes (worthies) dyd ryd, and they had speches evereman, and the Mores-dance and the Souden and the Olevant with the castigel, and the Souden with yonge Morens with Targetts and dartts and the Lord and Lady of the May.’ Most of these, with the exception of the Morris dance and the ‘Lord and Lady of the May,’ have passed out of modern cognisance, but we may add to them the sports which were usual in the seventeenth century, and which, according to Burton, in his ‘Anatomy of Melancholy,’ gave most delight to town and country people alike. These arei.e
. the working people] freely feast, sing, dance, have puppet-plays, hobbyhorses, tabers, crowds and bagpipes; let them play at ball and barley-brakes; and afterwards plays, masks, jesters, &c., are to be winked at, lest the people should do worse than attend them.’
But of all the May-games, dancing round the Maypole was the most popular, and it is to be found in all parts of the country. The ceremonies of the day began when the youth of both sexes rose just after midnight, and, accompanied by musicians, went in procession to a neighbouring wood, whence they returned at sunrise, laden with all kinds of flowers and green branches, wherewith they decorated themselves and their houses. In other districts, the custom is for people from town and country round to parade the town singing the ‘Mayers' Song,’ and bearing branches of may, a piece of which they leave at every door. This was at three in the morning. The rest of the day was spent in dancing round the Maypole which stood in the centre of the village, and which was consecrated to the goddess of Flowers. ‘This is not the custom of the British people only,’ says Brand's ‘Popular Antiquities,’ ‘but it is the custom of the generality of other nations, particularly of the Italians.’ Hone also tells us that the ‘Tall Pole called a May-Pole’ formed the principal attraction of May Day. ‘It is covered with flowers and hearbes, and bounde with strings of different colours, and often two or three hundred men, women, and children, follow it with great devotion, and when it is raised and they have feasted they begin to leape and daunce about it as the Heathen did at the dedication of their Idolles.’ Ribbons seem to have been the usual decoration of the pole, from which we have the pretty and graceful custom of ‘plaiting the Maypole,’ still performed in our villages. But it might be ornamented in various ways. Shakespeare speaks of a ‘painted Maypole,’ and in Tollet's picture we see St. George's red cross or the banner
From a Print (dated 1794) of a Painted Window then at Betley, Staffordshire
Reed's
Shakespeare.
These Maypoles were of such a size that it was usually necessary for them to be drawn to the place of erection (in most cases the village green) by twenty or thirty yoke of oxen. ‘The Lord and Lady of the May’ were identified with Robin Hood and his beloved Maid Marian, and they were surrounded by the whole band, with Friar Tuck and Little John, who danced and paraded beside the everlasting hobby-horse and dragon As these are the characters of the Morris dance, it is natural that that dance, with its characteristic bells of various scales, should form part of the performance, and milkmaids careered about with pyramids of cups, tankards, and salvers, neatly balanced on their heads.
Eccleston.
I have seen the Lady of the May
Set in an arbour (on a holy day)
Built by the Maypole, where the jocund swaines
Dance with the maidens to the bagpipe strains.
There is an old English dance tune called ‘Robene Hude;’ perhaps to its sound the youths and maidens footed it merrily on the green, or twined the Maypole. Perhaps to these festivities, too, the translator of the ‘Roman de la Rose’ refers:
But haddest thou knowen hym beforne,
Thou woldest on a booke have sworne,
Whan thou hym saugh in thylke araye,
That he, that whylome was so gaye,
And of the daunce
Cotgrave has ‘Chanson de Robin=a merrie and extemporall song, or fashion of singing, whereto one is ever adding somewhat, or may at pleasure adde what he list. Murray,
THE MAYPOLEComplaynt of Scotland.
(
From an Engraving after Joseph Nash
)
These dances, too, it may be presumed, led sometimes to ribaldry and license; at any rate, in the third year of Edward VI's reign, a fanatic named Sir Stephen preached against the Maypole to such good effect that the owner Of every house over which it hung sawed it off and burnt the pieces.
Daniel's
Merrie England.
Dancing round Maypoles was not confined to country districts; in fact, the rural dances were not so sportive as those near London. A great pole was set up in Cornhill, higher than the steeple of St. Andrew's Church, which was thence called St. Andrew's Undershaft; the Maypole in the Strand was reared with great ceremony in 1661, and was 134 feet high. The last poet who seems to have mentioned this Maypole was Pope:
Amid the area wide they took their stand,
Where the tall Maypole once o'erlooked the Strand.
This ‘tall Maypole’ Sir Isaac Newton begged of the parish, and had it erected in Wanstead, Essex, where it supported the largest telescope then known. The New Church occupies its site:
But now (so Anne and piety ordain)
A Church collects the saints of Drury Lane. 2
L 2
Ibid.
The Maypole nearest to London that stood the longest in Hone's recollection was near Kennington Green. It remained until the year 1795, and was mostly frequented by milkmaids. The cult, if one may call it so, of the Maypole had not always stood so low; for the great Dr. Parr, the first Greek scholar and most skilful controversialist of his day, was a patron of May-day sports; opposite his parsonage house at Hatton, near Warwick, stood the parish Maypole, and as each May Day came round, with its dancing and feasting, the learned Doctor was first and foremost of the merry throng.
Hone's
Every-day Book.
The milkmaids had a recognised part in the May-day festivities, and they seem to have been wont to perform their part right merrily, for ‘to be a milkmaid’ and ‘to be merry’ were almost synonymous terms in olden times, and the ‘merry milkmaid’ was a usual title. Pepys, in his Diary, has, under the date May 1, 1667: ‘To Westminster; on the way met many milkmaids with their garlands upon their pails, and dancing with a fiddler before them.’ Misson, in his ‘Observations on his Travels in England,’ has a fuller account: ‘All the pretty young country girls that serve the town with milk borrow abundance of silver plate to make a pyramid, which they adorn with ribbons and flowers, and carry on their heads instead of a pail. They are often accompanied by their fellow-milkmaids and players on the bagpipe or fiddle.’ Sometimes a model of a cow with gilt horns, all covered with ribbons formed into bows and rosettes, and interspersed with green oak-leaves and bunches of flowers, replaced the plate. Garlands were worn of various sizes, and sometimes they were carried by porters instead of by the milkmaids themselves. It was customary to stop before customers' doors, and dance a galliard to the sound of a fiddle, for which performance a gratuity was expected.
MILKMAIDS' DANCE ON MAY DAYIbid.
(
From the Vauxhall Painting by F. Hayman
)
It was in the reigns of James II. and William III. that the dance and its accessories reached this finished point; but the milkmaid had always been celebrated for her light heart. Holinshed tells of the Princess Elizabeth, when she was closely guarded, that once upon a time from her garden at Woodstock she heard a milkmaid singing pleasantly, and (‘no marvell,’ says the chronicler) wished herself to be a milkmaid too, for the singing maiden's case was better, and her life merrier than her own.
It seems that the milkmaids had a festival of their own; for, according to one authority, ‘a milking feast was held formerly on May 29, when dances round the Maypole and old games, such as blind-man's buff, were the favourite pastimes. On this day, when the milkmaids came back from milking, they would ornament their kits with flowers, and deck themselves with garlands, and the young men and lads would run after the lasses to steal a May-day kiss—a show of gallantry which caused dire disaster to many a “meal” of milk, and worked the ruin of many a “better-day” coat.’
Crowden.
The Merry Milkmaids
The Dancing-Master, 1650, &c.
(
From Chappell's ‘Old English Popular Music,’ by kind permission
)
The chimney-sweeps as well as the milkmaids have their share in the May-day festivities. The tallest of their party is always leader, and bears a garland consisting of a large cone of holly and ivy framed on hoops; when the garland stops, the chief and one of the ladies of the party dance in a Menuet de la Cour or some other grave movement. Then they quicken their step, and twirl and whirl in sight of each other on opposite sides of the garland; then they bow over the top and ask donations. This chimney-sweepers' pageant is of quite recent date, as it took place in London for the first time in 1825.
Hone,
Every-day Book.
New May Song (Cheshire)
(
From Egerton Leigh's ‘Cheshire Ballads
’)
But where are all those fair maids that used here to dance?
They are gone abroad from hence, to spend their lives in France.
The custom of May dancing is not confined to England;reel
, which in its turn is followed by another dance to the old tune of ‘Cheshire Round.’
Hone,
Every-day Book.
Dyer,
British Popular Customs.
The following extract from ‘Customs and Fashions in Old New England,’ by Alice M. Earle, will be interesting in this connection, as showing how the memory of festivities in Old England survived in New England, and how Maypole-dancing died hard in that stern Puritan land: ‘A few rather sickly and benumbed attempts were made in bleak New England to celebrate in old English fashion the First of May. A Maypole was erected in Charlestown in 1687, and was promptly cut down.’
The most unbounded observance of the day was held at Merry Mount (now the town of Quincy) in 1628 by roystering Morton and his gay crew. Bradford says: ‘They set up a Maypole, drinking and dancing aboute it many days togeather, Dance of Peasants on May Day
(
From Queen Mary's Psalter
)
The MS. in the British Museum known as ‘Queen Mary's Psalter’ furnishes us with many illustrations of the manners of the early part of the fourteenth century, and gives several pictures of dances of a peculiar character, danced by youths and maidens, by demure-looking citizens and their wives, by monkeys, or by monks and nuns. It would require a lively imagination to represent adequately the times when England was Merrie England, the merry land. Then knights rode through Knightrider Street to Smithfield to hold their tournaments,
Daniel's
Merrie England.
Ibid.
Greensleeves and Pudding Pies
(
From Chappell's ‘Old English Popular Music,’ by kind permission
) Daniel's
Merrie England
.
Alas my love, ye do me wrong
To cast me off discurteously:
And I have loved you so long,
Delighting in your companie.
Greensleeves was all my joy;
Greensleeves was my delight:
Greensleeves was my heart of gold,
And who but Ladle Greensleeves.
In the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries out-of-door dancing was very common. Stow intimates that before his time the common people were wont to recreate themselves abroad in the open air, and he laments the use of those diversions which were followed within doors and out of reach of the public eye. Perhaps because they were performed out of doors the common country-dances of the beginning of the fifteenth century were simple, not being marked by the intricate and mazy figures which they now possess. Some ancient writers speak of the roundelay or roundel as a kind of air appropriated to dancing, and the term dancing seems to imply little more than dancing in a circle with hands joined. It seems that, while dancing was practised in the fields and other open places, it was no disgrace for men of the gravest professions to join in this recreation.
Hawkins,
History of Music.
‘And that nothing might be wanting for their encouragement in this excellent study [the Law] they have very anciently had Dancings for their recreations and delight, commonly called revels,
And again he says:
‘Nor were these exercises of dancing merely permitted, but thought very necessary, as it seems, and much conducing to the making of gentlemen more fit for their books at other times; for by an order made 6th Feb. 7 Jac. it appears that the under barristers were by decimation put out of commons for example's sake, because the whole bar offended by not dancing on Candlemas Day preceding, according to the ancient order of this Society, when the judges were present with this that if the like fault were committed afterwards they should be fined or disbarred.’—Dugd. ‘Orig. Jurid.’ cap. 64.
It is recorded by Sandys that ‘the dancing and singing of Benchers in the great Inns of Court is in some sort founded upon interest,’ for they are said to hold some privilege or other on condition of dancing about the fire in the middle of their hall, singing ‘Round about our Coal Fire!’ In 1594 there was a celebrated Christmas at Gray's Inn, of which an account was published under the title of ‘Gesta Grayorum,’ a title founded on ‘Gesta Romanorum,’ then very popular. The festivities wound up with a masque performed before Queen Elizabeth at Shrovetide. She was so much pleased with this, and thought so highly of the performance, that, on the courtiers ‘dancing a measure’ after the masque was ended, she exclaimed, ‘What! shall we have bread and cheese after a banquet?’
It is to the Elizabethan period that we must pay most attention, for then we find the greatest number and variety of dances. In Henry VIII.'s reign indeed we note that masques and pageants were much in vogue, and the King himself was a frequent performer as well as spectator; especially at Christmas THE CUSHION DANCE, ELIZABETHAN, 1570 Sandys'
Christmas Carols.
Collier,
History of English Dramatic Poetry.
Joan Sanderson, or The Cushion Dance
(
From Chappell's ‘Old English Popular Music,’ by kind permission
)
The Cushion Dance often concluded a country wake or other general meeting. Hone's
Every-day Book.
Selden, quoted by Dyer.
But some reply, what foole would daunce
If that when daunce is doon
He may not have at ladyes lips
That which in daunce he won?
This custom is still prevalent in some parts of the kingdom; when the fiddler thinks the young people have had music enough, he makes his instrument squeak out two notes which all understand to say, Kiss her!
Ritson.
They hear when every dance is done,
They hear when every fit is o'er,
The fiddle's squeak, that call to bliss,
Ever followed by a kiss.—
Wordsworth
.
Another country-dance called in, Elizabeth's time ‘Sellenger’ or ‘Sillinger’ is the St. Leger Round, one of the oldest dance tunes now extant. It is also called ‘The Beginning of the World,’ and is mentioned by Taylor, the Water-poet, in his book ‘The World runs on Wheels.’ It is also described by Playford as follows: ‘The dancers take hands, go round twice and back again; then all set, turn, and repeat; then lead all forward and back, and repeat; two singles and back, set and turn single, and repeat; sides all and repeat; arms all and repeat; danced as often in circles as in parallel lines.’
Sellenger's Round, or The Beginning of the World
(
From Chappell's ‘Old English Popular Music,’ by kind permission
)
William Byrd
.
The dance was a daily amusement at the Court, and most dances were of foreign origin.
Edward Philips (Milton's nephew), in a chapter on the mode of bails, makes the dancing-master utter the following speech: ‘Come, stir yourselves, maidens, 't will bring a fresh colour into your cheeks;’ and Bess, who has not been yet properly tutored, replies: ‘And, by the Mass, that will I do, and Sarah
M
Nonesuch, or A La Mode De France
The Dancing-Master, 1650. &c.
(
From Chappell's ‘Old English Popular Music,’ by kind permission)
KING CHARLES II. AND PRINCESS ELIZABETH DANCING AT THE HAGUE
(
From the Picture
of Windsor Castle
)
The Country Dance
(
From an Engraving after William Hegarth
)
This is the title, given at the conclusion of ‘The Introductory to wryte and to pronounce French, compiled by Alexander Barclay:’ ‘Here foloweth the maner of dauncynge of ball daunces after the use of Fraunce and other places, translated out of frenche in englysche by Robert Coplande.’ To take one instance out of many, the Bergomask (which Bottom proposed that two of his company should perform), an old Italian dance taking its name from the peasants of Bergamo, a country belonging to the Venetians, was very popular among all classes. All the buffoons in Italy affect to imitate the ridiculous jargon of these peasants, and thence it became also a custom to imitate their manner of dancing, which spread from Italy into England.
Corantos, galliards, trenchmores, brawls, jigs, and fancies, the lavolta and the pavin (pavane) were all in vogue at Court; but perhaps the favourites were the lavolta (something like our galop or waltz) and the old chivalric pavin. The Queen had an official, a Court clown and dancer, who perhaps was a kind of master of the ceremonies for arranging the dances, and was called the ‘Undumpisher,’ from Dump, the name of a now forgotten dance.
Daniel.
The Lavolta or
la Volta
, as the name implies, is of Italian origin; it passed from Italy to Provence, then through the rest of France to England. M. Bodin, a Parisian advocate, and a writer on demonology, gravely ascribed its importation into France to witchcraft! The chief point of the dance seems to be that the man turns his partner round several times, and then assists her in making a high spring or cabriole.volta
. The dance is referred to in ‘Henry the Fifth.’
Douce.
The Passamezzo and Payan may be taken together, as we find them sometimes confused, though they, are really separate dances. They were imported either from France, Spain, or Italy. In a book translated from the French by I. Alford are two passamezzo tunes printed in letters to the lute notation.
Douce,
Illustrations of Shakespeare.
Reed,
Shakespeare's Plays.
Ibid.
A dance very frequently mentioned in contemporary literature is the Brawl: the word comes from the French
branle
, which means a dance. Its foreign origin was generally acknowledged. ‘How meanst thou?
brawling
in French?’ we read in ‘Love's Labour's Lost;’ and in Ben Jonson's ‘Masque of Time Vindicated:’
The graces did them footing teach;
And at the old
Italian brawls
They danced your mother down.
So in Massinger's ‘Picture:’
'Tis a
French brawl
, an apish imitation
Of what you really perform in battle.
And again from an old poem, date 1569:
Good fellowes must go learne to daunce,
The brydeal is full near a:
There is a
Pepys speaks of a ball he went to at Whitehall where the King and other lords and ladies danced the brantle or branle, ‘espèce de danse de plusieurs personnes, qui se tiennent par la main, et qui se mènent tour-à-tour.’ After that the King led a lady a single coranto; then the other lords did likewise. Then followed the country-dances, the King leading the first, which he called for, and which was the old dance of England, ‘Cuckolds all Awry.’ This was in 1662. The name indicates a shaking or swinging motion, and the dance was performed by several persons uniting hands in a circle and giving each other shakes, the steps changing with the time; it consisted of three pas and pied-joint, the time being given by four strokes of the bow; when it was repeated it was termed a double brawl.
Amidst a great variety of brawls mentioned in the curious treatise on dancing entitled ‘Orchésographie,’ there is a Scotch brawl with music.
Douce,
Illustrations of Shakespeare.
We have seen that a dagger or sword often formed part of a morris-dancer's equipment, and apparently the custom of wearing a sword while dancing—for show, not for use—was a very common one. ‘I think wee were as much dread or more of our enemies’ (says Stafforde's ‘Briefe Conceipt of English Pollicy,’ 1581) ‘when our gentlemen went simply and our serving-men plainely, without cuts or gardes, bearing their heavy swords or buckelers on their thighes insted of cuts and gardes and
light dancing-swords
; and when they rode carrying good speares in theyr hands instede of white rods, which they carry now more like ladies than men.’ Such weapons were called ‘dancing-rapiers,’ and the contrast between swords worn for use and those worn only for show is well brought out in Greene's ‘Quip for an Upstart Courtier’—‘one of them carrying his cutting sword of choller, the other his dancing-rapier of delight.’ The custom of wearing swords in the dancing schools
Ibid.
Now was there one man of our company that was as deaf as a doore naile. When we were come into the schoole, the musitions were playing and one dauncing of a galiard, and even at our entry he was beginning a trick as I remember of sixteens or seventeens. I doo not very well remember, but wunderfully he leaped, flung and took on, which the deaf man beholding, and not hearing any noisedagger
, and smote the man on the head very sore.
Most of the dances referred to in the following portion of a dialogue from the 1617 edition of Heywood's ‘A Woman Killed with Kindness’ have been already mentioned. The
hay
, which was borrowed from the French, is further mentioned by Evelyn and in ‘Love's Labour's Lost;’ carols also were sung to the tune of ‘Hay.’ Of ‘John, kiss me now,’ we have this from the ‘Anatomy of Melancholy:’ ‘Yea, many times this love will make old men and women that have more toes than teeth dance “John, kiss me now.”’
John, come kiss me now
!
(
From Chappell's ‘Old English Popular Music,’ by kind permission
)
William Byrd
Jack Shine
. Come, what shall it be? Rogero?
Jen
. Rogero! No; we will dance the ‘Beginning of the World.’
Sisly
. I love no dance so well as ‘John, come kiss me now.’
Nich
. I that have ere now deserv'd a cushion, call for the
cushion dance
.
R. Brick
. For my part, I like nothing so well as ‘Tom Tyler.’
Jen
. No, we'll have the ‘Hunting of the Fox.’
Jack Shine
. The Hay! the Hay! there's nothing like the Hay.
Here they dispute, and it is settled by—
Jenkins
.…Let me speak for all and we'll have ‘Sellinger's Round.’
Besides the dances partially described above, there are many mentioned in literature of which we have little or no knowledge. ‘Canary it with your feet,’ says one of the characters in ‘Love's Labour's Lost.’ This was a favourite dance in the Canary Islands and Spain, and thence must have been introduced into England; it originated from a ballet composed for a masquerade, in which the performers were habited as kings and queens of Morocco, or savages, and the following is a description of it: A lady is taken out by a gentleman, they dance together; he leads her to the end of the hall, always looking at her, leaves her, then makes up to her again, and retreats as before. Then his partner does the same, and this is repeated several times with various steps. The dance was sometimes accompanied by castanets. The following is the tune, taken from Arbeau:
Douce,
Illustrations of Shakespeare.
Canary
The poet Barclay, in his ‘Eclogues’ (1508), has made a shepherd boast of his skill in archery, to which he adds:
I can dance the Raye, I can both pipe and sing,
If I were mery, I can both hurle and fling. 2
Strutt,
Sports and Pastimes.
We know no more of this dance. Another old dance, apparently of quick movement, is Barnaby. Thus Cotton's ‘Virgil Travestie:’
Bounce cries the port hole, out they fly,
And make the world dance Barnaby: 1
Nares' Glossary.
Then the ‘Satyre's Dance’ is mentioned in the ‘Winters Tale.’ All that we know of it is that a song of that name occurs in an old collection of songs by Thomas Ravenscroft.
It may be noticed in reading Shakespeare that the word
measure
means a dance as well as its ordinary meaning. Thus in ‘Much Ado:’ ‘If the prince be too impatient, tell him there is
measure
in everything, and so dance out the answer.’ And in ‘Richard the Second:’
My lip can keep no
measure
in delight
When my poor heart no
measure
keeps in grief. 2
Reed,
Shakespeare's Plays.
And, as even Bacon did not consider it beneath his dignity to perform a measure, we may be sure it was a dignified dance.
The chief amusements of James I. and his Court were masques and emblematic pageants, mainly composed by Ben Jonson, but often spoilt by the audience insisting upon many introductions which were not in good taste. In the next reign, however, Charles's fine taste, aided by Buckingham, Jonson, Lawes the musician, Inigo Jones, and others, produced the most exquisite entertainments. The masque was composed of dialogue, singing, and dancing, combined on the basis of some fable. It was got up at prodigious expense, and one in particular, presented at Whitehall by the Inns of Court in 1633, cost the enormous sum of 21,000
l
.
In the masque entitled ‘The Night and the Hours,’ the first scene represented a double valley—one side dark clouds, on the other a green vale. From this grove extended a dancing place, with the bower of Flora on the right and the house of Night on the left, while between them was a hill. In the ‘Lord's Masque’ the scene was again divided into
Eccleston,
English Antiquities
We can well imagine the great dames of those days, with their long trains and powdered hair, and their beautiful fans made of ostrich and other feathers, executing the stately dances of the time. Of the minuet, imported from France, a dancing-master is reported to have said that he knew nothing, though he had devoted his whole life to the study of it; on hearing which Hogarth replied that he was glad he was a painter, as some bounds might be set to the study of his art.
Hone.
Hawkins
Dickens says somewhere that the observance of Sunday varies with the latitude or longitude of the place. ‘Go north and you must not whistle; come south and you may play the fiddle; move sideways a little towards the east and you may whistle and fiddle and go to the play.’ Dancing would, I dare say, be included in the diversions of the Eastern Sunday;
In Oxford we find a sport called Candle-Rush, or LeapCandle. It is danced by young girls only, who place a candlestick in the middle of the room, draw up their skirts, and dance backwards and forwards over it, singing:
The tailor of Bicker he has but one eye,
He cannot cut out a pair of green galagaskins if he were to die.
Not very elegant, one may say, but original at any rate.
In Wiltshire, Dancing round the Harrow was a common amusement on the anniversaries of wedding-days, and was followed by a good supper. Going south to Cornwall, we are not surprised that a county which maintained its own Celtic speech until quite recently should also retain its own peculiar dances.
The Fadé Dance, or the Furry Dance, takes place in the borough of Helston on Furry Day, May 8, which is to the dwellers in those parts what Christmas Day is to most English people. The word
fadé
is an old Cornish word meaning to go, and is often corrupted into
faddy
; while
furry
is by some authorities derived from the Cornish
fuer
, signifying a fair or merry-making.
Whitcombe,
Bygone Days of Cornwall.
Flinging open each door, let us enter and frisk,
Though the master be all in a pother;
For away from our home as we merrily whisk,
We will
An interesting description of this floral
féte
by Mr. Quin
There Were forty-one couples. They first trip on in couples hand in hand, during the first part of ‘Furry Dance’ tune, forming a long string, the gentleman leading his partner with his right hand.
Second part of tune: The first gentleman turns, with both hands, the lady behind him, and her partner turns the same way with the first lady, then each gentleman in the same manner with his own partner, then trip as before, each part of the tune being repeated. The other couples pair and turn the same way and at the same time. The movement is elegant. The party proceeded UP one side of Mensage Street and down the other to Wendron Street, passing through all the houses they chose. The dance terminated in the assembly-room at the Angel with ‘The Triumph.’
In this county also it is usual on the feast of St. John the Baptist to make fires and kindle them at midnight—a religious ceremony of most remote antiquity, especially among Celtic nations. It is probably a vestige of the worship of the fire-god Bel. The people then dance and leap round and over the fire. This midnight dancing is often found among Celtic races. In the Orkney Island of North Ronaldshay there is a large stone nine or ten feet high and four feet broad. No tradition is preserved concerning it; it may have been erected to commemorate some great event, for administering justice, or for religious worship. At any rate, the priest of the district has seen fifty people assembled there on the first day of the year dancing by moonlight, with no music but their own singing.
Cornish boys and girls still keep up the old custom of
Whitcombe,
Hone.Goosey Dancing
. On Christmas Eve they rifle their parents' wardrobes, and, thus disguised, dance, sing, and beg money, and they often keep it up during the whole week.Bygone Days of Cornwall.
Hone.
It may seem a far cry from the Scilly Isles to the Isle of Man, but probably they are not so far removed in race as in geographical position. At any rate, a country which has retained so persistently its own peculiar form of government may be supposed to keep its own forms of dancing also, and therefore deserves some notice. On Twelfth Day, January 6, the
Harrison,
Gienys Dance
takes place, and the ‘mainstyr,’ or master
Sword Dance
(
From Eccleston's ‘English Antiquities
,’ 1847)Lackets
. A number of persons of both sexes were invited, and after supper they began to dance, during which dance the
lavare vane
was introduced, amid much laughter and feigned consternation. It consisted of a horse's head, which, half concealed by a white sheet, snapped at passers-by. There is a somewhat similar custom in Cheshire, there called Old Hob.Mona Miscellany.
Turning now to Northern England, we find there that the sword dance still survives, and is performed in some districts even up to the present day. Wallis, in his ‘History of Northumberland,’ derives this dance from the ‘saltatio armata’ of the Roman Militia. It takes place at Christmas, the Yuletide of the Druids. Young men march from village to village, and from house to house, dressed in fancy attire, and before the entrance of every house they entertain the family with the antic dance or ‘chorus armatus,’ accompanied by music, and holding swords and spears in their hands erect and shining; for their pains they receive a small gratuity. One of the company is distinguished from the rest by his more peculiar costume, a fox's skin generally serving him for a covering and ornament to his head, the tail hanging down his back; this is the leader, who does not mingle in the dance. It will be observed that there is a slight similarity between this and the morris-dancing. A morris dance where swords were employed was performed in Lincolnshire in 1779. In the North Riding of Yorkshire the sword dance is performed from St. Stephen's Day until the new year. The dancers usually consist of six youths dressed in white decorated with ribands, attended by a fiddler, a youth of the name of Bessy, and also by one who personates a doctor. They travel from village to village: one youth acts the part of king in a kind of farce which consists chiefly of singing and dancing; the Bessy interferes while they are making a hexagon with their swords, and is killed. In more modern sword dances the swords are formed into a figure; then they lay them down on the ground and dance round them.
The following account is taken from the ‘Westminster Budget,’ February 16, 1894:
And a party of pitmen gave an exhibition of the ancient pastime of sword-dancing. Once a popular custom throughout the kingdom, it now survives in very few counties, and has probably been largely kept alive in Northumberland by the interest taken in it by the
We have already noticed Miss Earle's account of Maypole dancing in New England, and it may be interesting now to turn to her account of the advance of other forms of dancing there. The old Adam appeared even in those stern colonists, and they turned eagerly to dancing; the savages themselves were not more fond of dancing than ‘the colonists who came after them. Dancing schools were forbidden in New England by the authorities, but dancing could not be repressed in an age in which the range of conversation Was necessarily narrow and the appetite for physical activity and excitement almost insatiable.’ It seems that dancing was forbidden in Massachusetts taverns and at weddings, but it was encouraged at Connecticut ordinations. John Cotton states his objection to be not of dancing as a whole, ‘even mixt,’ but of ‘lascivious dancing to wanton ditties with amourous gestures and wanton dalliances.’ In 1713 we find a ball in Boston lasting from six in the afternoon to three in the morning; while, on the other hand, sober folk were reading ‘An Arrow against Profane and Promiscuous Dancing drawn out of the Quiver of the Scriptures by the Ministers of Christ
The following quaint song inscribed under an odd print of ‘Vestris Teaching a Goose to Dance,’ belonging to last century, is an eighteenth-century plea for the dance:
Quoted by Daniel.
Of all the fine accomplishments, sure dancing far the best is,
But if a doubt with you remains, behold the goose and Vestris;
And a dancing we will go, will go, &c.
Let men of learning plead and preach, their toil ‘tis all in vain;
Sure, labour of the heels and hands is better than the brain.
And a dancing, &c.
Then talk no more, ye men of arts, ’bout keeping light and shade,
Good understanding in the heels is better than the head.
And a dancing, &c.
Great Whigs, and the great Tories too, both in and out will dance,
Join hands, change sides, and figure in, now sink, and now advance.
And a dancing, &c.
N
Let Oxford boast of ancient lore, and Cam of classic rules, Noverre might lay you ten to one his heels against your schools.
And a dancing, &c.
Old Homer sung of gods and kings in most heroic strains,
Yet scarce could get, we have been told, a dinner for his pains.
And a dancing, &c.
Poor Milton wrote the most sublime 'gainst Satan, Hell, and Vice,
But very few would quit a dance to purchase Paradise.
And a dancing, &c.
The soldier risks health, life, and limbs, his fortune to advance,
While Pique and Vestris fortunes make by one night's single dance.
And a dancing, &c.
'Tis all in vain to sigh and grieve, or idly spend our breath,
Some millions now, and those unborn, must join the dance of Death.
And a dancing, &c.
Yet while we live let's merry be, and make of care a jest,
Since we are taught what is, is right; and what is right is best.
And a dancing, &c.
Scottish
dances stand in a category of their own, to which the ordinary canons do not apply. They are sometimes very effective and are capable of considerable artistic development,
Lippincolt's Magazine, 1884.
The Scots follow the amusement of the dance with delight and enthusiasm. Their fondness for it amounts to a passion. After the toil of a long day, young men and women will walk many miles to enjoy a dance, which seems to them to be indeed a recreation, in the pursuit and enjoyment of which all weariness is forgotten. After the dancing is over they return to work with new zest. The delight in dancing is so great that all the efforts of the Kirk to put down ‘promiscuous dancing’ have been failures.
N 2
Logan,
The Scot Gael.
The Scots love music. The practice of music and poetry was the favourite amusement of the Gael; and if we look at the beauties of Scottish scenery, if we remember the glorious deeds of Scotsmen, if we learn to understand the land of liberty, of bards, of songs, of hills and lochs, the home of Ossian, of Ramsay, of Burns and Scott, we shall also understand what gives an endless inspiration to poetry and music; and in a land where both these arts are strongly developed, dancing is not wanting. The Scots dance much; they dance naturally and without tuition, though it is said there was once a gymnasium at Lochaber ‘for teaching all sorts of athletic exercises and graceful accomplishments,’ and I am sure that dancing must have been one of these. But though the Scots are always dancing, accounts of early Scottish dances are invariably meagre; they all, however, speak of the early dances in tones of high commendation. We know the names of many dances, for in the ballad of ‘Colkelbie Sow’ twenty native dances are mentioned. The reason of this poverty of description is that the Scots, while practising the musical arts, had not yet reached such a height of civilisation as to pen treatises on any of the arts, dancing among them; and then came the times of John Knox, when dancing was looked on as a sin, and only spoken of to be inveighed against.
A poem which throws much light on the manners and rustic festivities of the Scottish peasantry during a very early period is one just mentioned—the ‘Cowkelbie Sow’ or ‘Colkelbie,’ which, though posterior to Chaucer, seems to have been written during the era of minstrelsy,
Ancient Popular Poetry of Scotland.
Mumming and masquerading were carried to a great height
History of the Scottish People.
Than cam in Dunbar the mackar;
On all the flure their was nane frackar,
And thair he dauncet the Dirry-duntoun:
He hoped lyk a piller wantoun;
For luff of Musgraeffe men fulis me;
He tripper quhill he tuir his pantoun.
A mirrear dance micht na man see.
At the celebration of the nuptials of James IV. and the Lady Margaret a company of English comedians, under the management of John English, regaled the Court with a dramatic representation: D. Irving,
Lives of Scottish Poets.
Rogers,
Social Life of Scotland.
Before the Reformation, only the hours of Divine service were held sacred, and the rest of the day could be spent in sports if the people so chose, as was the custom in England; but under the Reformed Church the whole day, beginning at six on the Saturday evening and lasting till the same hour next evening, was to be strictly observed. In May 1594 the Presbytery of Glasgow forbade a piper to play his pipes on Sunday ‘frae the sun rising till the sun goes to;’ in Lanark, six persons, including a piper, were arraigned in 1625 ‘for fetching hame a Maypole, and dancing about the same upon Pasche Sunday.’ In the games declared ‘lawful to be observed’ set forth in King James's ‘Book of Sports’ in 1618, dancing is named; this is perhaps tight-rope dancing, to which the King and his Court were driven in 1600, in the absence of plays and theatres. In that year a performance took place at Falkland of ‘strange and incredible practices upon a rope stretched along the palacel
. 6
s
. 8
d
. On August 21, 1628, the Presbytery of Lanark condemned ‘the insolence of men and women in foot-racing,
dancing
, and playing Barla Breks on the Sunday,’ and enjoined the brethren severally to restrain the practices. In 1649 the General Assembly ‘inhibited dancing,’ and referred ‘the censorship therefore to the care and diligence of Presbyters.’ But these laws—the necessity for passing which seems strange to us—could not wholly suppress dancing, and perhaps they were carried out generally with the tolerance and humanity which characterised the treatment of the Roman Catholics in spite of the harsh laws which were promulgated against them. We must remember that dancing and sports of all kinds had very much obscured the original significance of religious ceremonies, and the Puritans were but endeavouring to return to the simplicity of ancient times when they sought to curtail somewhat the amusements of the people. About a century later a change was beginning to appear. In 1723 a weekly dancing assembly was established in Edinburgh and was largely patronised; and in 1728 the Town Council of Glasgow—where we have seen the playing of pipes interdicted on a Sunday—appointed a dancingmaster, with a salary of 20
l
., ‘to familiarise the inhabitants with the art.’ At St. Andrews in 1765 a master was appointed at a salary of 5
l
. to teach dancing, ‘a very necessary article of education,’ and another was nominated in Aberdeen to teach ‘manners and good breeding.’ In 1768 the Rev. John Mill includes ‘dancing and Church music’ among the things necessary for a gentleman's education. Though May-Day sports have ceased, yet the national games, including bagpipe competitions and Highland dancing, are conducted on the annual holidays and at the national gatherings. Among the more remarkable of these gatherings for the practice of public sports are the ‘Northern Meeting’ at Inverness and the great annual ‘Gathering’ at Braemar. In 1863, however, a farmer at North Knapdale was refused Church membership, since, by dancing
Rogers,
Social Life of Scotland.
We may perhaps sum up the countenance given to dancing at the present day by saying that in the country and among the more stern members of the Calvinistic body dancing is considered a sin, whilst in the towns, and in many country places too, the Scotsman's natural aptitude for the dance breaks out, and dancing is a favourite sport. Scott has preserved an example of the first temper in his character of David Deans in ‘The Heart of Midlothian.’ Jeanie was shocked at Effie thinking of a dance, and then their father suddenly appeared, having heard the word
dance
. ‘Dance!’ he exclaimed, ‘dance, said ye? I daur ye, limmers that ye are, to name such a word at my door-cheek.’ And of the other temperament, the merry mind that sees no harm in such amusements, he has given us a passage in ‘Marmion:’
Nor failed old Scotland to produce
At such high tide the savoury goose.
Then came the merry
Dancing at weddings was a very usual custom in Scotland, and on these occasions it was especially objected to by the Reformers. At one time the clergy did not think it inappropriate to take part in sports, and perhaps it was as a concession to the worthies that sacred hymns were used, even up to the beginning of this century, as an accompaniment of grave dances at weddings and other feasts. In the eighteenth century dancing took place on the green when weather permitted. The first reel was danced by the newly-married pair; next on the floor were the bride's maidens and her male bodyguard. Rogers,
THE PENNY WEDDINGSocial Life of Scotland.
(
From an Engraving after Sir David Wilkie
)shemit
, from the supposed bashfulness of the young couple. When all had danced, the company had supper, and afterwards the young people resumed the dance. The concluding diversion was a dance called ‘Bah at the Bowster,’ practically the same as the ‘Cushion Dance,’ already described among Elizabethan dances. Dancing was kept up until the small hours by some of the company, but before then the young couple had been escorted home.
David Maxwell,
Bygone Scotland.
Penny weddings were nuptial entertainments of the lower classes in Scotland, at which each guest contributed a sum from 1
s
. to 5
s
with the purpose of defraying the cost of the festival, and to give the. newly-wedded pair a start in life. In some fishing villages this practice is still continued.
It seems but a sad journey from the wedding to the deathbed, but extremes meet; on the night after a death in Scotland, dancing was kept up until the next morning, just as it is at a wedding. Dr. Garnett says that in Argyllshire funeral dances are still customary. They begin on the evening of the death, and are then termed the
Latewakes
. All the neighbourhood are summoned to attend, and the dance is accompanied by a solemn melancholy strain, called the Lament, begun by the nearest relative. The Highland custom of expressing sorrow was ‘the lamentation and clapping of hands by women.’ Women were not excluded from these dances and celebrations, as from some others. If the dead person were a man, his widow (if he left one) led the first dance; if the deceased was a woman, the widower began the measure. At large and important wakes, a banquet was held the night before the funeral, and the proceedings
Mr. J. G. Frazier gives the following account in the ‘Folk Lore Journal,’ 1883:—‘About a hundred years ago a young man attending a funeral was told that after the funeral there was a dance, and that he was to dance with the widow. He was to ask her to name the tune. Her answer was, "It would need to be a merry one, for my heart is very sair." She appeared in full weeds, and the guests were arranged for a country-dance. She and her partner stood at the top of the dance, went down the middle hand-in-hand and out at the door of the room. The dancing was continued by the other guests. This was thought to show honour to the deceased.’
Mr. Thomas Davidson says that until seventy or eighty years ago it was the custom in Galloway to dance at funerals.
But the Scots had many other dancing customs; for instance, in the fifteenth century we find that at fairs, after the buying and selling was over, much fun and frolic took place. The whole company betook themselves to dancing, the chief part of which is called the
Salmon Dance
, a dance which consists in endeavouring to imitate the leaps of the fish after which it is named. At the close, the bagpiper, who had been playing for half a day, demanded the modest sum of three halfpence as his fee.
Another popular exhibition of the fifteenth century was
Morris-dancing
, an account of which has been given elsewhere. The dancer wore a rich comic dress, made of fawn-coloured silk in form of a tunic, with trappings of green and red satin, adorned with bells, and hose half black and half white. Though the dance was of a leaping and frolicsome character, it required much taste and skill in the execution in order to produce a tune from the two hundred and fifty-two bells, merely by movements of the body. The dance was usually performed in Scotland on Shrove Tuesday (sports on May-day, the festival
History of the Scottish People.
Some of the games of Scottish children seem to have been dances originally. For example, the
Merry-ma-tanzie
is probably a corruption of Merry-May-dance, an old sport practised on the first of May. Part of the song sung during the dance was, ‘Here we go round the mulberry bush.’
Popular Rhymes of Scotland.
Some of the dances in use in Scotland are mentioned in a work contemporary with the ‘Complaynt of Scotland’—‘The Boke named the Governour, deuised by Sir Thomas Elyot, knyght, London 1546’—where the writer enumerates the ancient dances, Eumelia, Cordax, Enoplie, and Hormus, and then adds: ‘In stede of these we have now Base daunses, bargenethes, pauyons, turgions and roundes.’ We find some of these names recurring in a list of Scottish dances given in the ‘Complaynt of Scotland:’
The dances consisted of dancing ‘in ane ring,’ licht lopene (leaping), galmonding (gambolling), stendling (striding) backuart and forduart; dans and base dansin, paureans, galzardis, turdions, braulis, and branglis, buffons, with mony othir licht dancis.
One may suitably begin a more particular account of Scottish dances by a description of the step peculiar to the Highlands, and known as the ‘Highland Fling,’ the name being often transferred to the dance itself, which is usually performed by three or four persons to the music of the Strathspey, which will be described later. The term ‘fling’ expresses the kick which characterises the step. when a horse kicks by merely
Scottish Reel
(
From an Etching by D. Deuchar, 1784
)flings
the other one in front and behind.
Grove's
Dictionary of Music.
Among Scottish dances the first place must of necessity be given to the
Reel
, which after the Restoration was danced with much agility by high-born dames, who had fallen from the good habits of domestic industry practised by them after
The reel is by some declared to be of Celtic origin, and possibly indigenous to Britain; but it is the Danish as well as the Scottish national dance, and to which country it originally belonged is not easy to say. It is very interesting to notice that the pentatonic scale is employed in Scottish music, and in that of some Asiatic nations also, and the principal instruments of the Scots—the harp and the bagpipe—are both found in Central Asia. Hindoos evince a decided preference for Scottish music above all others, and this seems to hint at some Eastern origin for the dance. An article in the ‘Times’ of November 1864 says: ‘When the pipers of the 93rd Highlanders were ordered to play before six hundred proud Hindoo kings and chieftains, glittering with emeralds and diamonds, the gratification of Her Majesty's princely subjects was complete, and their delight knew no bounds.’
The figure of the reel is perhaps the most beautiful that can be exhibited. Hogarth exemplifies it as the Line of Beauty, and the general air of the dance should indicate gaiety and good-will. It is a gliding dance, usually performed by two couples, and its movements differ slightly according to locality, the principal point, which is the same in all, being the circular form. When performed by two couples it is called a ‘foursome reel;’ When by three couples, a ‘sixsome reel,’ the difference being in the music, with a corresponding difference in the steps and evolutions. But it must be noticed that the Gael did not depend on the playing of some instrument to accompany his dances, but often ‘reeled’ to his own vocal music. It is advisable to dance a reel as much as possible on the points of one's toes, in order to maintain complete command over foot
The Strathspey derives its name from the valley of the Spey; it is closely allied to the reel; it is slower, yet it calls for more exertion, and abounds in quick motions. Burns compares some of the finest lines of poetry to the old strathspeys. Neil Gow and his sons are indissolubly associated with the reels and strathspeys: ‘he was one of Nature's own musicians, and did much to promote the use of the violin in playing Scotch dance music.’ The Reel of Tulloch is one of the most characteristic of these dance tunes. To show how these reels have become as it were part of a Scotsman's own being, so that he performs them instinctively and without thought, it is recorded that a man played the fiddle, played bass on the bagpipe, smoked, spoke Gaelic and explained it by means of question and answer, all the while he was dancing a strathspey!
To dance a reel was at one time believed to be one of the signs of witchcraft, as appears from the following passage:
Agnis Tompson brought before the King confessed to going with a number of witches, two hundred, by sea, drinking by the way, to the Church of North Barrick in Lowthian, where they landed, tooke hands, and danced this
reill
or short daunce, singing with one voice:
Commer goe ye before, commer goe ye,
Gif ye will not goe before, commer let me.
This ‘reill’ was played upon a small trumpet called a Jew'sharp.
Douce,
Illustrations of Shakespeare.
These dances, reels, and strathspeys are the only true national dances of Scotland, others having been derived from France or England, and as such they deserve particular attention. Some details as to the music taken from the ‘Collection of Highland Airs,’ published in 1781 by the Rev. Patrick McDonald, may be interesting in this connection. The tunes are sung irregularly, dwelling upon the long and pathetic notes,
Haste, ye sister pow'rs of song,
Hasten from the shady grove,
Where the river rolls along,
Sweetly to the voice of love.
The steps are called minor, single and double where two steps go to one bar, one step to one bar, and one step to twoForward step
(the common step for the promenade or figure of the reel): advance one foot, bring the other up behind, hop with the first foot, and repeat reversing the feet; turn the body to the left when dancing with the right foot, and to the right when using the left. The
setting or footing step
, frequent in English country dances: bring one foot up behind the other, and sink or hop on it—this is a
minor
step, the
single
is, pass the right foot behind the left, make gentle spring with the left to the second position, pass the right foot again behind the left, making a hop on it, and repeat with alternate feet. In the
double
step you pass the one foot four times behind the other.
Cross springs
: spring forward on the right foot and hop with the left, then spring back with the right and hop on it.
Cross slips
: slip right before left, left behind right, right before left and hop upon it.
Cross passes
: spring to one side with right foot, pass the left across it, hop and cross it again; then reverse to the other side.
A minor step, or leaping step
: spring to one side and bring other foot behind the first one, then make a caper or leap, changing the positions of the feet, and repeat.
Open step
: slip the feet to the second position, then with straight knees make a smart spring upon the toes to the fifth position, and repeat.
Turning step
: go to second position with right foot, hop on it and pass the left foot behind, then hop and pass the same foot before. These steps can of course be combined and repeated in an endless variety of ways, according to the music or the taste and ingenuity of the dancer; and if the reader will carefully study the above directions, he will in time acquire some notion of the fascinating Scottish reel, and will be the better able to understand the evolutions should he have the good fortune to see it well performed.
I have already mentioned that the witches' dance was a ‘reill or short dance’ to the tune of ‘Commer goe ye,’ and whoever desires a good description of some such witches' dance cannot do better than read ‘Tam o' Shanter.’ But it was not only witches who danced: his Satanic majesty himself would Dalyell,
O
Superstitions of Scotland.
Circular dances are found among nearly all nations. In Scotland the
Ring Dance
was once a favourite, though it has now fallen into disuse; it is similar to the Irish Rinceadhfada, or Rinkey, which is also a field dance. Leyden says of this dance:
It was the common dance at the Kirn, or feast of cutting down the grain, and was always danced with peculiar glee by the reapers of that farm where the harvest was first finished in any district. On such occasions they danced on an eminence, in the view of the reapers in their vicinity, to the music of the Lowland bagpipe, commencing the dance with three loud shouts of triumph, and thrice tossing up their hooks in the air. The intervals of labour during harvest were often occupied by dancing the Ring, to the music of the piper who formerly attended the reapers.
This dance is alluded to in the ‘Elegy on the Piper of Kilbarchan:’
Or quha will cause our shearers shear?
Wha will bend up the brags of weir?
The Highlanders still retain this dance, and dance it in the open fields when they visit the South of Scotland as reapers in autumn.Ringmor
, in which the dancer seemed to touch the ground with his thighs without losing his balance, is perhaps one of the actions of these dances. It reminds us of ‘the Lusitani,’ who, according to Diodorus, ‘have a light and airy dance in time of peace, which requires great dexterity and nimbleness of legs and thighs; in war, they march along, keeping good time, and sing triumphal songs when they are ready to charge the enemy.’
Murray,
The Complaynt of Scotland.
Logan,
The Scot. Gael.
The
Sword Dance
, common to so many nations, must have originally preceded the march out to war, or was, perhaps, danced on the field of battle itself to rouse the courage of the combatants. Perhaps, also, the barbaric yells referred to in Bon Gaultier's amusing ballad were a frequent accompaniment
So Mhic Mac Methuselah
Gave some warlike howls,
Trew his skhian-dhu
An stuck it in his powels.
The dance is descended from the Pyrrhica Saltatio of the Romans, the military dance of their Salii or Priests of Mars, and their dance in its turn probably came from the Greeks.Killie-Kallum
(or Ghillie-Callum). According to Olaus Magnus, it travelled from Orkney and Shetland to Norway, where it became very popular. Tacitus mentions it among the ancient Germans, who danced unclad amidst drawn swords and spears with great dexterity and grace.
Soane,
New Curiosities of Literature.
Rogers,
Social Life of Scotland.
Henry's ‘History of Britain’ (1771) asserts that the Germans, and probably also the Gauls and Britons, had a kind of martial dance which was exhibited at every entertainment. This was performed by certain young men who, by long practice, had acquired the art of dancing among the sharp points of swords and spears with such wonderful agility and gracefulness that they gained great applause to themselves and gave
O 2Dirk Dance
, or Ghillie-Callum (the latter name being taken from the tune to which the dance is performed), sometimes terminates a ball, but is supposed to bear only a very faint resemblance to the ancient sword dance It is still executed by a few, and was exhibited in London in 1831 by MacGlassan; but those whose memory goes back into remote times—the oldest inhabitant in fact—tell us that the modern dirk dance is unlike that of their youth. It is evident from an old Isle of Skye dancing song that the parties in the old dance went through the evolutions of attack and defence, while the chief art of the modern dance is the dexterity with which the dancer escapes touching one or more swords crossed on the ground.vice versâ
. The rhymes connected with the dance have fortunately been preserved in a succession of copies, the last of which was written about 1788 by Mr. William Henderson, younger, of Papa Stour, one of the Shetland Islands, where the dance or ballet is still performed,
Bourne's
Popular Antiquities.
Logan,
The Scot. Gael.
Traditions of Edinburgh.
We find that the
Hornpipe
was not confined to England;Sean-trius
, now called chantreuse or old trousers, named from the accompanying air, i the native Highland Hornpipe, and is danced with much grace. It was notably performed by two brothers of the name of Grant, who were good violin-players and very clever dancers. They also gave the Highland Fling in the style called the Marquis of Huntley's.
Stenhouse.
Logan,
The Scot. Gael.
Scottish Reel
(
From an Engraving after T. H. Ramberg, circa 1800
)
The song ‘Highland Laddie’ (which bears out Stenhouse in his view in opposition to Burns's assertion that ‘all Scottish muses were Jacobites’) may not be inappropriately referred to in this connection. Its references to dancing would all be well understood and keenly enjoyed by the audience to whom it was addressed:
When you came over first frae France,
Bonny laddie, Highland laddie
You swore to lead our King a dance,
Bonny laddie, Highland laddie;
And promised on your royal word,
Bonny laddie, Highland laddie,
To make the Duke dance o'er the sword,
Bonny laddie, Highland laddie.
In all the foregoing remarks the reader will have noticed what a hold the national dances have over the Scottish mind and heart. At some periods, from various causes connected with the history of the country, foreign measures may have held sway, but the true Scot will always turn to his own dances in preference to those of foreign importation. Most true is it that—
Nae cotilion brent new frae France,
But hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys and reels
Put life and mettle in their heels.
But with all that—and herein lies the root of the difference between the people of Scotland and those of England, Ireland, and most of Europe—the Scot, more especially the Lowland Scot, is always self-contained. In spite of the great activity of the reel, there is always present an element of restraint. You do not expect, nor do you find, that the dance overflows into any exuberant expression of the dancer's feelings by means of any unexpected gesture or movement, unless it is that he cracks his knuckles and utters cries, as is so often the case in the dances of the more voluble Southern nations. Every step in his dance is guided by some conventional rule. Such numerous and excellent collections of Scottish dance music have been published recently that no musical examples of dance tunes necd be given in this chapter.
In Ireland, the people of which country possess, or at any rate possessed formerly, a reputation for gaiety and humour, one naturally expects to find that dancing flourishes and is a favourite national amusement. And this is so to a great extent, though they have not, perhaps, such a variety of popular measures as other countries. It has been said that if
Survey of the South of Ireland.
Before proceeding to a detailed account of the jig, which naturally holds a principal place among the dances of Ireland,
Wilde. Dalyell.Circular Dances
reappear in nearly every country from the earliest times. May Day is still celebrated in many parts of Ireland with a circular serpent dance round a tree, which dance has been handed down from generation to generation from the remotest antiquity. The performers dance round a tree or bonfire, moving in curves from right to left, as if imitating the windings of a serpent, though they are quite unconscious of the cryptic meaning of the movement, which is in reality one of the earliest traditions of humanity concerning the serpent and the tree.rinke teampuill
, i.e. chorea templi, and has some similar features to the last one. The ceremonies concluded with a dance from right to left, but should the signs be unpropitious, or should anything have been done wrong so as to violate the rite, the priests blew a horn as a curse, and the dance was performed from left to right; these directions remind us of the Roman superstition that the left hand is the unlucky one. A strange instance of circular dancing is given in the following story from Kilkenny.entrechats
(that is, a
cross caper
or leap, changing the position of the feet, according to Mr. Peacock), finally uniting and resuming their original places. This dance was accompanied by the Cuisley Ciuil, a sort of simple bagpipe, and used to conclude balls; it was performed before James II. when he landed at Kinsale, to his great gratification.
Logan.
Another very ancient dance belonging to the twelfth century, which comes under the same category, is a hopping dance known as the Espringall, corresponding to the German ‘Springendetantz;’ it is a dance-song (Fer-Cengail) and is mentioned in the ‘Roman de la Violette’ along with the Carol. One person sang the melody, and the dancer or dancers joined in the chorus. The Carols were always danced by several persons who held each other's hands and moved in a circle, as in the above-mentioned circular dances. The Irish Cengail seems to be cognate with the old French verb,
ginguer
, ‘to move the feet,’ and the refrain of this dance-song was perhaps like that of the ‘Fer Gigaoila,’ which consisted of a humorous kind of giggling, in short catches of the breath, accompanied by sudden starts of the body?
O'Curryz
I may perhaps surprise my readers by saying that the first English dance-tune, which dates back to the year 1300, was probably a kind of
Jig
, though it did not lack grace. In fact, though jigs are now confined to Ireland, they wereGiga
, or from the German word
Geige
, an early kind of fiddle, but the derivation does not help us to find out what the dance was like, as the British dance did not possess any very decided characteristics, and the word came to be synonymous with any trivial thing. Pope, for instance, says: ‘Make the soul dance upon a jig to Heaven.’
Grove's
Dictionary
It is not easy now to say in what the ancient jig consisted: in Shakespeare's time it meant not only a dance, but a humorous piece of writing, probably in verse.
Reed's
Frottola
is defined in Florio's Italian Dictionary as ‘a countrie jigg, or round, or country song, or wanton verses:’ as if all these terms were included in the word jigg.Shakespeare.singing jigs
.’ Gisson, in his ‘Plays Confuted in Five Actions,’ speaks of the ‘dancing of jigs,’ and in old pictures Tarleton is represented with his tabor, playing jigs: we find jig music still preserved bearing his name. Shirley tells us in his ‘Changes’ (1632) that jigs at the end of plays had been given up at Salisbury Court, and perhaps also at the private theatres. In Marston's ‘Scourge Of Villanie’ ‘Kemp's Jig’ is spoken of, not as a song or ballad, but as a dance:
A hall! a hall!
Roome for the spheres; the orbes celestial
Will
Payne Collier.
Music bearing this name is still extant.
Kemp was a celebrated actor, whom we have had occasion to mention in connection with the Morris dance; it is possible that these dances were composed by regular dramatists, and that they bore Kemp's name, simply because he had made them popular by his acting, and probably by flashes of extempore wit. He himself says that he ‘spent his life in mad jigges.’
Kemp's
Nine Days' Wonder.
Whatever may be the original meaning attached to the word jig, in Ireland it has long stood for a dance, popular among young and old, and formerly in all classes, when high and low would join in the native dance to the tune of the ‘Flannel Jacket’ or some such air. Nowadays its animated movements have given way, in polished society, to the dreamy but overrefined waltz, though one fails to see why it should not be revived. A traveller in Ireland in 1751 says that every village has its Bagpiper, who, every fine evening, after working hours, collects all the young men and maidens of the village aboutGollttraidheacht
, which was adapted to festive entertainments ‘either to elevate the soul to martial action or to excite therein the more humane disposition to Love, Mirth, and Dance.’
Historical Memoirs of the Irish Bards.
Jigs are divided into ‘single’ and ‘double’ jigs, according to the different number of beats in the bar: single jigs are further defined as having a good swinging movement. The steps are probably somewhat similar to those employed in the Scotch reel, described fully in the previous division of this chapter.
A Single Jig
In addition to these we have such terms as ‘guiding,’ in which in the double jig the floor is struck six times to the bar, and ‘battering,’ or ‘single battering,’ where the floor is struck only twice, once by the foot on which the body leans and once by the foot thrown forward. All military tunes and dances amongst the Irish were of the nature of jigs; they were conducted by the Curinky or dancing-master, which word survived in the surnames of many families as lately as 1831.
Logan
Tatter The Road
‘Tatter-the-road’ is similar to the double jig, only that in it the floor is struck four instead of six times in ‘guiding,’ and ‘single battering’ is used. It is a very ancient air, and appears to be the original form of the double jig-tune, known now by the name of the ‘Washerwoman,’ which under this name has been a very popular dance tune in Ireland for at least a century. Such dance tunes as ‘The Hunt’ are on the whole similar to the usual tunes for the double jig, hornpipe, or reel, with some slight irregularity or difference in structure. These slight differences necessitate a separate dance for each, so that each tune has its own dance, and is used for no other. A double jig, first noted in 1852, played by a fiddler from Co. Leitrim, is remarkable for the fact that it is quite unsuited to the bagpipe, for which instrument most Munster jigs were written; it must be accompanied by harp or fiddle, and is perhaps of ancient origin. The usual Munster jig belongs to the class called common or double jigs, and possesses much of the old march character.
Petrie.
‘The Humours of Caledon’ belongs to the kind termed Nop-jigs. It took its name from the small and beautiful place called Caledon in the barony of Dungannon, Co. Tyrone, and was found in a MS. book of Irish dance tunes during last century.
IRISG JIG
From an Engraving after Wrightson
)
The Humours Of Caledon
Dances termed ‘single jig’ seem to have been native to Co. Galway. The above descriptions are taken from Petrie's ‘Collection of the Ancient Music of Ireland.’ There is probably a field of research open to the Irish student in this direction, and perhaps some day we shall see Irish dances and their tunes thoroughly investigated, when many interesting details will no doubt be brought to light.
The following account of an Irish Sabbath, taken from Miss Owenson's ‘Patriotic Sketches of Ireland,’ is most interesting. We may preface our quotation by observing that the avocation of dancing-master (mentioned by Miss Owenson) does not preclude the carrying on of other occupations, though it may interfere with the discharge of other duties. A carrier was once summoned to fetch some luggage, and returned the answer that he could not come, being busy teaching the jig!
Whatever hardships the Irish peasant submits to during the week, it can never be said that ‘Sunday shines no Sabbath day to him.’ The lower Irish, passionately fond of dress, and without the
On a Sunday the young women go to the mass-house, generally dressed in white gowns and coloured petticoats; with their rug cloaks hanging on one arm, and their shoes and stockings on the other. When they approach the Chapel they bathe their feet in the first stream, and assume those articles of luxury which are never drawn on but for show, and the public gaze of the parish. After prayers both sexes generally adjourn to the fields to witness some of those manly sports to which the lower Irish are so passionately addicted. These national amusements are not confined to the peasantry; the young gentlemen of the adjoining counties frequently engage in them.
While the English peasant employs the hour succeeding to his attendance at Church in the perusal of some religious tract, the Irish peasant devotes himself to an exercise which may render him a less pious, but certainly forms him to be a more serviceable, member of the community.
Although the fare of Sunday seldom rises beyond the accustomed potatoes and milk of the rest of the week, some few halfpence are always spared to purchase the pleasures which the Sunday cake bestows. This cake set upon a distaff is the signal of pleasure and becomes the reward of talent; it is sometimes carried off by the best dancer, sometimes by the archest wag of the company. At a little distance from this standard of revelry is placed its chief agent, the piper, who is always seated on the ground with a hole dug near him, into which the contributions of the assembly are dropt. At the end of every jig, the piper is paid by the young man who dances it, and who endeavours to enhance the value of the gift by first bestowing it on his fair partner. Though a penny a jig is esteemed very good pay, yet the gallantry or ostentation of the contributor anxious at once to appear generous in the eyes of his mistress and to outstep the liberality of his rivals sometimes trebles the sum which the piper usually receives.
I have been at some of these cakes, and have invariably observed the inordinate passion for dancing, so prevalent among the
The Irish possess a natural taste for both music and dancing—kindred arts—and the Irish jig has a most wonderful influence over an Irish heart. The gay Cotillon of France, the slow Pas Grave, the brisk Coupée, the Saraband of Spain, even Scotland's Highland Reel (a near relation) could not in any way take the place of their own lively jig.
Miss Owenson.
The farce of the ‘Half-Pay Officer’ having been brought out at Drury Lane Theatre, the part of an old grandmother was assigned to Mrs. Fryer, an Irishwoman, of the age of eighty-five, who had quitted the stage in the reign of Charles II., fifty years before. During the representation she exerted her utmost abilities; when, however, she was called on to dance a jig, she loitered and seemed overcome; but as soon as the music struck up the ‘Irish Trot,’ she looted it as nimbly as any girl of five-and-twenty.
Though the Welsh are very light and active, and, being Celts, ought to have many dances—to judge from other Celtic nations—we can glean few particulars of their native measures. That they do dance often is evident.
At feasts full merry is the throng,
With harp, and pipe, and dance, and song;
but perhaps after all they do not scorn to borrow this amusement from their English neighbours. We are told that
In dress and other things beside,
The Welsh and English differ wide;
P
and yet there is some connection too between the two countries, for the national English dance—the
hornpipe
—is called after an obsolete instrument, originally made in Wales. The hornpipe, however, can hardly, be described as a national Welsh instrument; no pipe of any kind, not even the bagpipe of other Celts, can hope to rival the popularity of the Welsh harp. It is said that three things were indispensable to a baron of the olden times—a virtuous wife, a cushioned chair, and a well-tuned harp.
A Welsh wedding is an opportunity for much festivity, in which dancing plays an important part. In former times, on the evening before the wedding a room was set apart for the young people to dance in; here they amused themselves for an hour, and then regaled themselves on spiced ale and various dainties. At eight the next morning the procession set out from the bridegroom's house, preceded by a harper playing a spirited march. At the door of the bride's father's house they meet the bride. After the ceremony the harper again led the way—this time to a part of the churchyard not used for burial; there, placing himself under a yew-tree, he struck up the dance, and soon all joined in, the bride and groom leading off the first two dances. Two airs were always sung on these occasions and on no other, ‘The Beginning of the World,’
St. Leger's Round, or Sellenger's Round (English).
Hone,
Every-day Book.
Roberts,
Popular Antiquities of Wales.
A curious description of a dance held at St. Almedha's Church, near Brecknock, is given by Giraldus:—‘A solemn festival is annually held here, in honour of this saint, in the beginning of August. At this festival you may see men or girls, now in the churchyard with a song, on a sudden falling to the ground as in a trance, then jumping up as in a frenzy and representing with their hands and feet, before the people,
But, Dick, she dances such a way!
No sun upon an Easter day
Is half so fine a sight.
Hone,
Every-day Book.
Jig
Tri hanner Tôn
I have thus traced dancing through the British Isles, from Cornwall to Skye, from the Court of the metropolis to the Irish cabin, and while admitting that each quarter has its own particular dances, I have also endeavoured to show that many dancing customs are common to all, uniting in one bond all the English-speaking peoples, be they Saxon or Celt.
Except
that both are without a fatherland, there seems very little similarity between the Hebrews, a rich, refined, and musical nation, and those hearthless wanderers, poor and uncultivated, the Gipsies. Liszt, in his book on the music of the Bohemians, points out that, during their dispersion and persecution, the Hebrews retained their individuality by living under strictest subjection to antique rule and law: the gipsies, on the other hand, have vindicated their peculiar character by irreclaimable lawlessness. While the Hebrews have a language and a book, the tongue of the gipsies is preserved only in a few folk tales and rude songs. These races, however, so widely separated in sentiment, owe to their common Oriental origin a love of music and dance that are in touch with the beginnings of art.
The mystic or legendary witch dance may claim a few words; thence it will be necessary to glance at the gipsy dances of Russia, Hungary, Transylvania, Italy, Spain, England, Scotland, America, and France.
I am indebted to a correspondent for some notes on the kind of erotic dancing which was practised from the earliest times in the East, and even in Europe, by a class of women who, if not absolutely proved to be gipsies, had at any rate many points of resemblance with them. Thus, the ‘Syrian girl who haunts the taverns round,’ described by Virgil, suggests the
Modern gipsy dances in Russia possess a superficial resemblance to these grotesque and rude diversions. The song suggests the dance; old wrinkled beldames, gradually animated by rum, take part with the youthful gipsies, ‘jumping and whirling about in more and more rapid rotation, then, uniting in one compact mass, a final gyratory movement is made, and all, exhausted and gasping, fall to the ground in one inert mass.’ Liszt characterises this dance as a ‘buffera inferna.’ Perhaps in no country do the gipsies contribute so much to the general amusement as in Russia. A visitor to St. Petersburg or Moscow is bound to witness the famous entertainment afforded by an evening spent in the gipsy camp. Yet let not the novice suppose that he here finds the genuine child of nature; for (and Liszt is the authority) these deadly and dangerous sirens are made up for show. ‘Of all show things, show nationality is the worst!’
More agreeable is the account by a correspondent of the Gipsy Lore Society of a dance of Roumanian gipsies. ‘It is too slow for my taste. A dozen or so dance in a circle; they pass their arms round each other's shoulders—rather a difficult position to go through a number of steps gracefully. In spite of that, I have seen them continue for an hour without stopping WALLACHIAN SOLDIERS DANCING TO TSIGANE ACCOMPANIMENT
(
From a Print after D. A. M. Raffet
)
The gipsy of the Ottoman Empire is called Tchinghiane. He intermarries often with Greeks, and his language and customs are mixed; for instance, he uses the Greek word Xopòs for the dance, as well as
Keliben
, which is the gipsy term for it. By one curious festival which he keeps the student is reminded of the Hebrews, with whom I began by comparing and contrasting the gipsies. The ‘kakhava,’ or caldron festival, is held during spring near a stream and in a green field with three days' singing and dancing. During this time every gipsy is bound to kill and cook a lamb, a curious custom in people who may be said to have no religion, and no known connection with Jews.
Walter Thornbury, in his ‘Life in Spain,’ says that ‘Seville is the head-quarters of the gipsy musician and dancer. Make way for the gipsy girl who is going to show us how the Egyptian ghawasses and the Hindoo nautch girls dance. She will dance the Romalis, which is the dance Tiberius may have seen, and which no one but a gipsy dances in Spain. She will dance it to the old Oriental music and hand-clapping, and to an old religious Eastern tune, low and melancholy, diatonic, not chromatic, and full of sudden pauses, which are strange and startling.’
Another author tells us that ‘this dancing girl is not romantic ; no antelope eyes, no black torrents of overflowing hair, no sweeping fringe of eyelash, no serpentine waist, no fairy
A Gipsy dancing the Vito Sevillano, (After Gustave Doré)
(
From Ch. Davillier's Spain
’)
Bright has given a good sketch of the gipsy dance in Spain in 1817. Of the figure-dancers he says, ‘Many of the performers in the (inferior) theatres are gitanos, and they frequently become private instructors in the evolution of the bolero and fandango. Others make their dancing the means of procuring money by exhibiting their talents in the streets.’
The Cascarrotac, or the mingled Basque and gipsy population, have their special dances. M. Michel, in his ‘Pays Basque,’ describes them as a class of mountebanks, or, at any rate, of young people who in fêtes are chosen to lead the way, dancing as they go. When the Orleanist Princes returned from Spain, their carriage was preceded by the Cascarrots, ‘who leaped and danced all the way from Saint-Jean de Luz to Bayonne.’ In 1660 Louis XIV. was honoured by a band of Arascabilaire dancers, who danced to the sound of small round bells and drums, and performed the national movement. A troupe of Basque performers greatly distinguished themselves in 1701 in their extraordinary feats of dancing and capering. They wore a number of little bells, and were accompanied on the tambourine. The distinction between Basque and Cascarrotac dancing is pointed out by Mr. Wentworth Webster in a communication to the Journal of the Gipsy Lore Society: ‘The chief and all the most characteristic of the Basque dances are danced by men only. Among the Cascarrots it is the women and girls who dance more than the men, either among themselves or with the men. This, I think, makes a real distinction. In very few of the old Basque dances did the women join; most were for men alone. In modern dances, learnt from the French or Spaniards, both sexes join; but I have never seen, away from the influence of towns, any Basque
In the ‘Niederlandische Sagen,’ quoted by Engel, the following event is told as happening in Herzeele:—
A troop of gipsies had arrived in a valley near that place. They stretched a tight-rope on which they danced, springing sometimes into the air so high, that all who saw it were greatly astonished. A little boy among the spectators cried, ‘Oh, if I could but do that!’
‘Nothing easier,’ said an old gipsy: ‘here is a powder; when you have swallowed it, you will be able to dance as well as any of us.’
The boy took the powder and swallowed it. In an instant his feet became so light that he found it impossible to keep them on the ground. The slightest movement which he made raised him into the air. He danced upon the ears of the growing corn, on the tops of trees, yea, even on the weathercock of the church tower. The people of the village thought this suspicious, and shook their heads, especially when they furthermore observed a disinclination in the boy to attend church.
They therefore consulted with the parson, who got him all right by means of exorcism—but it was a hard struggle to banish the potent effects of the gipsy's powder!
The custom of wearing bells was adopted by gipsies in England in the sixteenth century. Dekker thus describes them:—‘Their apparell is od and phantasticke, thou it be neuer so full of rents; the men weare scarfes of callico or any other base stuffe, hanging their bodies, like morris-dancers, with bels, and other toyes, to intice the country people to flocke about them, and to wonnder at their fooleries or rather rancke knaueries.’
Another still earlier writer, describing English gipsies, under the impression that they were alien Egyptians, says:—‘The people of the country be swarte, and doth go disguised
A quotation shows that the gipsies of that time were professional dancers: ‘The Egyptians that dansit before the king (James V. of Scotland) in Halyrud House, received forty shillings.’ This brings us to Scotland, where gipsies to this day are often called ‘Egyptians;’ ‘Scrapies’ was an old but less frequent name for them, and a street named after the race in Kirk-Yetholm—‘the chief gypserie of Scotland’—is ‘Tinkers’ Row.’
Some peculiarities belonged to a few of the tribe seen by Simson at Lochgelly. They sang in their own language a ‘croon’ while dancing. Charles Stewart, an old gipsy with five or six women in his train, performed at a wedding in a manner emblematic of anything but peace and domestic felicity. In the centre of his circle Charles capered in the most ludicrous way, while sweeping his cudgel around in all directions. He sometimes danced outside the circle, but the cudgel was the feature of this wedding dance; a wrong turn or a hesitating step was promptly corrected by a movement of this weapon, which indeed regulated every figure of the dance. A twirl dismissed the women, a cut recalled them; a wide sweep—and down they squatted on the floor; a light twist—and they sprang up. In the midst of the silence the cudgel spoke with a force unknown to the Cheironomic dancers of old. In Russia, where a somewhat similar dance is performed without spoken directions, it is by napkins that the guidance is given. James Robertson ‘regulated’ his wife and sisters-in-law in the dance by the flourishing of his bonnet. This gipsy was known in the kingdom of Fife. ‘When the women got intoxicated,’ says the chronicler, ‘the dance became wild, extravagant, and deficient in decorum.’ James was likened in ‘Tam O’Shanter’ to the devil playing to the witches. Scott, too, has made a gipsy woman famous. The roadside arabs of Scotland are much mixed with native blood. Allan writes of a gipsy:
A stalwart tinkler wight was he,
And weel could mend a pot or pan,
An deftly weel could thraw a flee
An' neatly weave the willow van.
An' sweetly wild were Allan's strains
An' many a jig an' reel he blew,
Wi' merry tilts he charmed the swains,
Wi' barbèd spear the other slew.
It will not occur to the sailor as he dances the hornpipe that his steps are modelled on a gipsy dance of Russia called the Barina, but such is indeed the case, unless the learned are mistaken on that point.
It is curious to note that the gipsies, Chyaneros, of South America, are held in contempt, and were considered as monkeys by the true Indians.
The genuineness that Liszt denied to the Moscow gipsies he discovered among the Hungarians. The Hungarian Tzigane is admittedly more gipsy than any other variety. His musical feeling is on the whole more original, although in one instance—that of the
csádás
—he has been convicted of plagiarism, of actually borrowing from the art of the country with which he is most associated, traveller though he be. At any rate, though the dance of the
csárdás
be proved to be Hungarian, the gipsies are said to play the music of it better than anyone else. Professor Herrmann, during his travels, observed that gipsies, and particularly gipsy fiddlers, do not sing for their own amusement the words of the Hungarian songs which they play, nor do they dance the
csárdás
; but in the popular dance of the Hungarian gipsies there are many elements of the Hungarian
csárdás
. In practice, the
csárdás
dance depends upon the gipsy accompaniment. ‘No entertainment without the gipsies,’ says the proverb and this is acted on in Hungary by the peasant and prince alike.
The young gipsy girls are most wonderful dancers. They dance like the fawns in the forest, like the birds in the tree, with all the light-heartedness, with all the carelessness of wild, untamed
DANCE TUNE OF THE INDIAN GIPSIES
(
From ‘Through Romany Song Land,’ by L. A. Smith, by permission of Mr. David Stott
)
These strange people, who appeal so strongly to the romantic in us—called gipsy in England, caird in Scotland, pharaohnepek in Hungary, gyphtoi in Greece—have no racial music or dance; yet they have infused into those which they borrow ofdiablerie
, as to make them practically new creations, for which they should have the credit.
Gipsy Dance,
(
From an Engraving after Marie Weigmann
)
Every nation represents itself in its dances combined with its music and folk song. Note, for example, the gallantry expressed in the French minuet; the measured gaiety of an English country dance; the wild, stormy, but barren uniformity of the Scotch reel; the gravity changing to fire in the Spanish bolero. The tasteless remnant of the Jewish feast-dance in many countries; the loudly joyous, enduring, but monotonous German native dance, speak plainly to those who can read between the steps. But to go further—see how the German tramps through
The modern Hungarian dances a great deal, and his national music is, so to speak; dance music, but though often fierce and warlike, it is more often melancholy, dropping from the major into the minor, when it is not minor throughout. The former barbarity and ferocity of the people are suggested in some of their dances, and the musical accompaniment, often performed by gipsies, is sometimes quite lawless. Some steps and positions indicate the pride of the Hungarian. The heroic features of the dance are relieved by tender and simple passages.
Madame Janka Wohl writes enthusiastically on the pictures of the Hungarian dance suggested by the well-known ‘Rhapsodie’: ‘The fire and sweetness of Tokay are inherent in those languorous
mélopées
, with their bold and electric rhythm. By degrees the rhythm quickens, it becomes suddenly rugged and abrupt, but is ever an intoxicating melody. Gaiety leads the way, contagious fire thrills the dancers; they seek and flee, they grasp and elude each other, delirium seizes the fervent souls that are drawn into the whirlwind of the mad, delicious music—a delirium which culminates in the wild cry of fury and delight that breaks forth now and again from the lips of the dancer, be he either prince or peasant. A shrill note of passionate vibration, that, like the sound of a fanfare, electrifies the masses.’
The principal Hungarian dance is the
csárdás
; it is stated by Professor Herrmann to be ‘both from the musical and choreographical point of view independent of the gipsies,’ and to have been ‘played and danced in the time of the lyre-artists who were not gipsies.’ The dance has much altered in our century; fashion has especially interfered with the so-called Salon-csárdás. But in all the variations of time and place certain leading ideas are present. The rhythm is identical.
As regards the choreographic part of the
csárdás
, Professor Herrmann traces it to the ancient Hungarian palotás, again, was connected with the dance accompanies by the lyre-artists—
lanto sok
, and may be followed back to the beginning of the middle ages.
‘Csárdás’ is the Hungarian for those solitary inns dotted about the puztas. The Baron Béla Winkheim wished to show that in the change of
Hungarian Csárdáspalotás
into
csárdás
the political changes due to Kossuth and the Revolution were mirrored. Thus the
(
From an Engraving after F. H. Ramberg, circa 1800
)csárdás
music in sympathy.
The
csárdás
begins with a slow and solemn walk, after which the dancer places his lady in position; this figure is shown in the sketch. After several movements of a complicated nature, and sometimes with a very melancholy accompaniment, the dance becomes more and more animated, ending in a mad whirl.
It is sad that the dance, once inseparable from music, and
Would it be too frivolous to mention the young man who, when languidly leaning against the wall, said he could not dance, because the tune bothered him so?
The Slavs, and especially the Poles and the Czechs, are great votaries of the dance. As early as the sixth century of our era Greek writers—Procopius, Cesariensis, and Manricius— tell us of the dances of Slavonic nations. Those of Poland are the most poetical, those of Bohemia the most numerous and varied, belonging to every condition of life, and accompanying every domestic incident of importance. No baptism, no marriage, no funeral, no harvest, is without its fitting dance. There even exists a superstition that flax will not grow if the good woman who sows it, be she never so old, neglect the appointed dance during carnival-tide.
A youth who is unskilled in the art finds little favour with the women:
He who would the maidens please
Should not lack a handsome face;
But, their favour to secure,
He must dance with ease and grace.
And, again, the festivities of Bohemian villagers give occasion for finery. The men wear embroidered shirts, velvet waistcoats with silver buttons, and splendidly ornamental handkerchiefs fastened to the belt, whence they flutter like flags. The effect of the music is heightened by loud shouts, jokes, and snapping of the fingers.
Q
It has been said in an earlier chapter that, in order to understand the dances of a people, the national characteristics of that people must be taken into account. The ancient Czechs were a brave, wild, strong, and free race, who in earliest times were rather warriors than husbandmen. Their faults were frivolity, instability, and obstinacy, together with insistance upon revenge. Their life was simple and primitive, and their first recreation seems to have been music. When, under the shade of pine and beech trees, they then sang their native songs, the inspiration to rhythmic movement could not have been far off, and, no doubt, the dance was soon added to the music. In accordance, therefore, with their warlike nature, one of the earliest dances of the Bohemians was a sword dance, such as was described by Tacitus as seen in Germania, and such, in fact, as has been common to many races. It is known, also, that the Czechs used religious dances in the highest degree natural to their mystic polytheism. Hills and rocks, streams, forests, and trees, were held sacred; sacrifices were made to them; and dances, as well as prayers and songs, were offered to propitiate these countless deities.
A curious custom of the ancient Czechs was that of dancing at crossways, or in woods, over new-made graves. The gods of the lower regions were here petitioned, by means of a dance, for the peace of the departed soul. This performance was not, as might be supposed, of a melancholy order, but, according to Comas, very lively,
jocos profanos
. The early Christians of Bohemia had to contend with the witches' dance, which must be included among the religious ones. Performed at dead of night by torchlight on the hilltops, this orgy was calculated to frighten outsiders. The horrible and fantastic shapes thrown by flitting shadows in the weird light served to encourage the mystery of the rite, and keep it secret.
But the wisdom of some of the introducers of Christianity kept up, or rather modified, some of the pagan customs, and pressed them into the service of Christian worship. Thus it happened that in Bohemia the original sacrificial dances were
What Hegel said of folk-song applies to the folk-dance—namely, that this flowery field should ever blossom anew, and that it is only by oppressed peoples, cut off from progress and unable to burst into reawakened life of light-hearted song, that the original old songs are preserved. The Bohemians held to their nationality, and therefore to their popular songs, down to the seventeenth century. During the Thirty Years' War, which had its principal centre in Bohemia, whole villages were obliged to emigrate, and the inhabitants began to wander over the world as beggars. From that time German influence increased by force in the seventeenth century, and by intermarriage and education in the eighteenth. Hence we see that about that period the popular dances and songs were borrowed from the Germans.
Formerly they danced to a song instead of to instruments, and these songs were always extemporised—a custom continuing to the early days of our own century. Like the folk-song, the folk-dance was a true mirror of the strength and independence of the people. The dances of Bohemia are named either from the accompanying song, the motive illustrated by the steps and gestures, or the place where they originated. Some of the names are humorous. Thus, the
Zezhulicka
(the cuckoo) is called after the song. The steps resemble those of the Mazur. In the
Dudák
(bagpipe), the piper himself dances in the middle, turning from right to left, the others circling round him; the
Skákava
(the jumping dance) is performed during the chanting of a hymn, such as an invocation to the Virgin.
It cannot be said that the
Starocesky
, the ancient minuet of this country, is as elegant as that of France; yet it is distinguished by noble simplicity and measured slow steps. It is especially proper to weddings. The partners dance with
Q 2
The May dance and the St. John's dance belong to the category of religious rites, and are elsewhere noticed. Waldau gives a detailed account of all the numerous dances of Bohemia.
To the
polka
belongs the first place in importance, if not in time, of all Bohemian dances. It is said to be a perfectly modern production, although similar measures must have been common to many races from earlier times, to mention only the
schottische
and the
volta
. Sir John Davies's ‘Orchestra’ (1596) has the lines:
Yet is there one, the most delightful kind,
A lofty jumping, or a leaping round,
Where, arm in arm, two dancers are entwin'd,
And whirl themselves, in strict embracement bound;
And still their feet an anapæst do sound, An anapæst in all their music's song,
Whose first two feet are short and third is long.
But, at any rate, the peculiar half-step made its appearance under the right conditions and in exactly the happiest circumstances, when a certain Bohemian peasant girl was observed dancing it ‘out of her own head’, more or less; extemporising for her own recreation, song, tune, and steps; and fortunately, all under the observation of a keen artist—Josef Neruda. On the spot (it was Elbeleinitz), and at the moment (on a Sunday afternoon), he noted down the melody and dance. The people of Elbeleinitz adopted tune and step; and the name ‘Polka’, meaning half (half-step), was spontaneously given to it. It was introduced at Prague almost
In 1840 a dancing-master of Prague gave the
polka
on the stage of the Odéon in Paris, with brilliant success; like wildfire it spread through Europe, and even crossed the ocean to New York.
In Paris a thing of fashion at once gains importance: the
polka
divided public attention with the most vital questions. In the morning one might be a député; in the evening, none the less enthusiastic, a
polkeur
. A contemporary says it created almost as much sensation as the dancing mania in the middle ages. Nor was there wanting an attendant epidemic, sufficiently burlesque; it was the Polka-morbus—the pain felt by the novice on the left side of the right foot on the morrow of a dance. Heine found the vibrating wooden keys of the piano affect the nerves terribly, and the great whirling disease, the polka, gives the finishing stroke. ‘The dance,’ he said, not referring to the fatal polka, ‘is the prayer of the feet.’
It was one M. Cellarius who introduced the polka into Paris salons. ‘Vivat Cellarius’ was the universal cry. He was obeyed like a king; none rebelled against his authoritative 1 2 3 4 and his simple and double steps. He was so much in request that it was whispered that he had only one hour free, between 2 and 3 A.M., and that he selfishly insisted upon keeping this hour for slumber. The theatre, always a mirror of manners, adopted the fashion, and when a play-bill announced ‘Le véritable Polka’ (for it used to be
le
polka and not
la
polka, as now), 'par le véritable Cellarius,' the crowd would be great and the joy of the spectators immense.
The Paris papers became destitute of news. ‘Our private letters,’ wrote the ‘Times,’ ‘state that politics are for the moment suspended in public regard by the. new and all-absorbing pursuit, the polka…which embraces in its qualities the intimacy of the waltz with the vivacity of the Irish jig.’ The wife of a celebrated ex-minister, desiring to figure in it atsoirée dansante
, monopolised the professor
par excellence
of that speciality, for three hours one morning, at 200 francs the hour. It was an unfortunate diversion for the war party, whose subscriptions for the sword of honour for Admiral Dupetit-Thouars went astray through the fascinating novelty.
The ‘Illustrated London News’ (March 23, 1844) was not less sarcastic:—‘The polka has seized this volatile and light-hearted people universally by the heels. With all respect for our learned neighbours, we think that St. Vitus and not St. Denis must have been the patron saint of France.…The English are an imitative people, and we may reasonably expect to find the Polka among the west-end importations during the season.’ This expectation was abundantly justified.
Cellarius had come over to England to increase his purse and fame; and other masters got hold of versions of the polka. One had been to Paris on purpose to learn it. Another had acquired it in Germany; a third, more shrewdly, ‘had been taught the dance by a Bohemian nobleman.’ Four lessons in the polka were said to be enough to perfect anyone acquainted with the principles of dancing. The ‘Illustrated London News’ dropped its humour and reported with due gravity the first drawing-room polka as danced at Almack's, ‘and at the balls of the nobility and gentry of this country.’ On May 11, 1844, it gave a description of the five figures, with the remark that those who wished to shine should dance the whole. A very complicated explanation of the ‘heel and toe’ step followed. A little hop was to be made on the right leg, the left heel dropping close to the right foot, and so on. Three pictures illustrated the article. In conclusion the journal observed that the polka was a noiseless dance. ‘There is no stamping of heels or toes, or kicking of legs in sharp angles forward. This may do very well at the threshold of a Bohemian auberge, but is inadmissible in the salons of London or Paris.’ The ladies are recommended to shorten their dresses by means of a bunch of artificial violets attached thereto, from the waist to the lower part of the skirt. This would
The dance was seen in perfection at the Opera, where Perrot and Carlotta Grisi, attired in the picturesque Slavonic dress, executed the wonderful step. All heads and hearts took the craze. The polka mania in England was short-lived, but so violent that everything was named after the dance; clothes, coiffures, nay, even public-houses—‘The Polka Arms,’ for instance. A magazine of the fashions describes a material called ‘polka,’ ‘as pliant and as graceful in its folds as the dance from which it has borrowed its name.’ Mrs. Jackson's ‘Polka Book,’ written in 1849, gave a recipe for making the ‘Victoria Polka’ in crochet, with eight-thread Berlin wool. This appears to have been a sort of crochetted Cardigan jacket.
The comic papers were not idle. Not only did the polka do duty in political cartoons, as in Leech's picture of Lord Brougham dancing opposite the woolsack, ‘a new dance introducing the old double-shuffle,’ but its votaries were mercilessly chaffed by Mr. Punch. Especially severe was he upon the polka in its decline and fall. His correspondent complains that after having been introduced to the accursed polka in its rise, progress, and apotheosis, at Vienna, he had to go through the same experience in Paris, London, and the country:—
The eternal round of questions, ‘Have you seen the polka?’ (Have I seen it!) ‘Can you, &c. &c.?’ is now heard in country towns. Then, sir, the way in which these rustics execute it. Two or three couples who have been talking big about it for the preceding three weeks, trot, with faces of solemn self-satisfaction, round the small circle into which they are hemmed by the gaping crowd, holding each other at arms' length, and rolling their heads most religiously from right to left according to instructions; this they vary with occasional attempts at the ‘toe and heel’ step, which consists in stamping their own heels upon other people's toes; and then they march away in triumph to receive the congratulations of friends, leaving the poor, deluded spectators under the impression
Another extract from
Punch
will serve to close this subject more agreeably.
Pretty Polk (1844)
Darling Polka! ere we part
Hear th' outpourings of my heart!
Since the season now is o'er
Wretched I can polk no more.
Hear my vow before I go,
Polka
By those steps so unconfined,
By that neat kick-up behind,
Coulon's hop, and Michau's slide,
Backward, forward, or aside,
By th' alternate heel and toe,
Polka
By the waltz's giddy round,
By the galop's maddening bound,
By the obsolete quadrille,
Polka mine! ‘I love thee still.’
Compared with thee each dance is slow.
Polka
Happy season, thou art gone,
I, alas, must polk alone;
Though the country now I roll to,
Almack's holds my heart and soul, too.
Can I cease to love thee? No,
Polka
The beautiful national dances of the Poles are known all over the world; the graceful
Polonaise
, the bold
Mazur
, the ingenious
Cracovienne
, belong to prince and peasant alike. Formerly their dancing was accompanied by singing instead of instrumental music. Their songs were improvised and probably
To come to the Poles proper, the same qualities which make them so remarkable as linguists lend themselves to the cultivation of the arts. Balzac sketches the Polish woman in these words:—‘Angel through love; demon through fantasy; child through faith; sage through experience; man through the brain; woman through the heart; giant through hope; mother through sorrow; poet through dreams.’
In the
Polonaise
we have a dance characteristic of the country, where we find united oriental splendour and gravity, with the proud spirit of an independent Western race. The old custom added much to the beauty of this dance, which, not many years ago, was still performed with weapons. It is more of a procession than a dance. Opened by the couple of highest rank, it takes in the whole company, aged men and women, children, high dignitaries, magistrates, none too solemn or careworn to be excused this beautiful exercise of etiquette. The promenade is broken by curtseys. One of its features—that of the gentleman giving up his partner as soon as another comes to claim her—was originally a symbol of the equal rights of all nobles in the state. The new claimant for a lady's hand in the dance must clap his hands after bowing before her. This is the signal to the dancer in possession, who is obliged to give up the lady with apparent politeness; but he retires to a corner and meditates reprisals. Nowa says that the
Polonaise
belongs especially to the upper classes. It must have been suitable to the magnificence of the ancient Polish Court, whose nobles were splendid art patrons. The custom of opening a ball with the
Polonaise
has been introduced in many European Courts.
In spite of its courtly origin, this dance was in some
If the
Polish DancePolonaise
reflects the spirit of the old aristocracy of Poland, the
Mazur
, full of life and expression, reflects the popular mind. It dates from the sixteenth century, and is usually performed by six or eight couples. Chorley thought that the music originated in an old Christmas tune. Chopin introduced new features into the dance, infusing it with melancholy.
(
From an Etching by F. A. Atkinson
)Mazur
—the rustic, the warlike, the sad. Historical
Mazurs
are named after generals or great events. In others, love sorrows, or the regrets of an exile, are expressed. The
Obertas
, one of the most popular of national dances, is a variation of the
Mazur
. It is thus described in Grove ‘s Dictionary of Music’ by Miss Middleton:— ‘The couples follow their leader, turning from right to left, and describing a circle or oval ring. The woman sometimes dances round her partner,vice versâ
; a song is often sung at the same time,' and sometimes ‘the rude accompaniment of the bagpipes or other primitive combination of instruments.’ The wild and romping nature of this dance is indicated by its title, which has a second meaning to that of ‘turning round ’—namely, perplexity or confusion.
The
Krakowiak
is a circular dance accompanied by songs, sometimes flattering or satirical, and improvised at the moment when the dancers pause after a round. The man of the first couple has to start this song of praise (or otherwise) of his fair partner. At other times a ballad or a madrigal is sung; and the dance varies according to the song. It should be enlivened by the clink of iron-bound boots, or of the brass and silver rings on the performers' belts. In the mountains a vigorous
Krakowiak
is executed by dancers surrounding one who performs feats of agility, hatchet in hand, in time to the music. In Paris, the ‘Cracovienne’ was danced at the Opera by Fanny Elssler.
The
Kozaks
are lively dances, similar to
polkas
, showing the agility of the Laporogues. The
Redowa
and the
Varsoviand
belong also to Poland.
The ancient Polish national dances, so free and joyous, grew sad when the country was partitioned. A new dance, one in harmony with the unhappy condition of things, became popular. It was called the
Kolomejka
, and is a Carpathian dance.
There is nothing in it of the majestic
Polonaise
, of the merry
Mazur
, or of the noisy
Krakowiak
. During the performance of the
Kolomejka
lips are dumb and faces downcast. Partners hold each other by a branch, or ribbon. At a given moment, but without a word, the girls let go their end of the ribbon, and run away with graceful gestures; the men follow with a supplicating mien. When the women are mutely persuaded to give in, they hide their faces in their aprons. Towards the end of the pantomime the twig or ribbon is dropped by both partners; the girl throws herself into the
The ordinary dance of Russians is of very ancient Slavonian origin, mixed with some Tartar elements. It has nothing in common with the existing country dances of Europe. It has no whirling or leaping, but is marked by the gentle, one might say tender, walk of the woman and by much bowing on the part of the man, who sometimes bends his knee and rises again suddenly. Whoever has seen Chinese, Mongols, and other Tartars dance, recognise in the Russian art many of the steps. Oriental dancing everywhere possesses some common features. A more or less quick movement of naked feet, a more or less accentuated swing of the hips, and the national dance of Russia, not wholly Eastern, is beautiful of its kind. Like the Ionian dance, it represents a love drama. The girl glides about gracefully; often crossing her hands over her breast, she raises sometimes one, sometimes the other shoulder, or hip; and as she passes with bent head in front of her partner, she throws on him a side glance which means anything she wishes to tell him or make him believe. No instrumental accompaniment is required, the performers themselves sing an improvised song. Mr. Joseph Haigold relates that while he was travelling with friends through a village south of Moscow, some well-dressed peasants, girls and boys, asked to perform a dance. Forming a circle, they danced to the melody of a song, in which the names of one of the company recurred constantly. This dance lasted about an hour.
There is an orbicular dance with a sung chorus, surrounding the queen of the festival. Another dance is the
Russian Wedding DancePletionka
, the braid, somewhat similar to the Greek chain dances. After singing ‘Whither shall we go in the excess of our joy?’ theKhorovodi
, a circular wedding dance, the performers crowned with flowers express the following
(
From an Engraving after F. B. Le Prince, 1767
)
But, going back to Russian dances that have less correspondence with the manners of neighbouring people, we find that in spite of their climate, with its extremes of heat and cold, in spite of the northern element of their character, the Russian has no very energetic dance. His conditions of life have been too oppressive. He moves in a small confined place, pirouetting slowly, and performing a rather heavy pantomime, in which his shoulders, arms, and hips have full play. A long guitar-like instrument, the Balaléica, accompanies these turns. So much for the men, and now let us see what chance there might be for a certain liveliness in the Russian women. They are thus described by Anthonie Jenkinson, writing in 1557:—‘If a woman be not beaten with a whip once a weeke, she will not be good, and therefore they look for it orderlie, and the women say that if their husbands did not beat them, they should not love them.’
And Victor Trust in 1880:—‘A Russian peasant woman who is not whipped from time to time complains of being neglected by her husband. The proverb says, “I love thee like my soul, and I beat thee like my fur-cape.”’
Amongst the Kalmucks it is not astonishing to hear that the women's dance is monotonous and tame, a sad pantomime. That of the men (the oppressed become oppressors)is imperious and lively, the spirit of domination being displayed inMakovitza
, or Dance of Cakes, a form of harvest thanks-giving, sometimes a petition for plenty. Each girl here carries a cake made of honey and poppy-seed, and eats it to the rhythm of the dance; be it fast or slow, she dare not discontinue her steps.
The dance of the Ukraine is a mixture of Polish, Russian, and even English. It is not so graceful as the Russian country dance. The Ukraine is to Russia what Provence is to France, a southernmost district where everything that has breath dances naturally. Thence come the musicians, who play and sometimes gaily jump round the banqueting tables of the great people of Russia.
The Russian dances of Court and society have developed in far different fashion. It is strange to observe how this part of the nation has adopted the dances of a conquered people, and that the
Polonaise
and the
Mazur
are the most important dances of the cities, setting aside the modern figures common to all European pleasure-seekers. The introduction in the Russian Court of foreign dances coincided with the adoption of foreign dress and other customs; so that, in the time of Peter the Great, ignorance of the minuet or of Polish and English dances was looked upon as a serious defect in education. Catherine II. was very fond of the ballet, and commanded beautiful dances, operas, and pantomime ballets. The Empress Elizabeth was a most accomplished dancer. It was said that in order to see the minuet danced to perfection one should go to the Russian Court. Even the national country dance was performed with much cleverness by their sovereign.
In 1768 a curious ballet was given at Court in honour of the vaccination of the Czarina and the Grand Duke. It was called ‘The Conquered Prejudice.’ In the background of the stage was the temple of Æsculapius; on the left a large ugly building erected by Ignorance. At its gate stood Chimera with several child victims at her feet. Occasional thunder and flashes of lightning were introduced.
During the storm Ruthenia sits pensive, divided between the fear of death and a new hope. In vain does the Genius of Science seek to give her courage. On the other side she is influenced by Superstition, Ignorance, and the folk who eagerly bring their children to sacrifice before Chimera.
Finally the storm ceases, and lovely music announces Ruthenia's happy escape from danger. But their evil geniuses still try to influence the people, and to the rescue comes the Russian Minerva, who has herself been vaccinated for the benefit of humanity. Hereupon follows a lively scene, ending in the repulse of Superstition and Ignorance, who try to win Minerva by flattering words, and the slaying of Chimera by the goddess. With a crash the ugly building falls to pieces, and Ruthenia directs that a commemoration column is to be put in its place.
All is not over, for in spite of the triumph Ruthenia sorrows over her beloved Alcind, who is an apostle of vaccination. Minerva, however, conducts her to the temple of Æsculapius, where Alcind is discovered in safety. Ignorance makes another attempt to win Alcind, but Minerva works upon him and the whole people to banish the evil one from the land. A glory appears in the heavens, and crowns with laurels the bust of Catherine II., which heads the commemorative column. Then Time, Truth, Reason, and Courage appear; Minerva crowns Ruthenia, and a joyful dance concludes the ballet.
Of modern dancing in Russia Mr. Sutherland Edwards writes:
Dancing in Russian society is very much like that in other countries, except that in Russia the ball always ends with a Mazurka —of which the rhythm and the step are known everywhere, but not the figures and general character. In Russia it is danced by an indefinite number of couples. A kind of follow-my-leader aspect is given to it by all imitating the evolutions of the first. Another peculiarity of this dance consists in the ladies choosing their partners, a process which is effected in a variety of ingenious ways, more or less complimentary to the gentlemen selected.
The figures are gone through like those of our cotillon.
In a Russian ball-room a lady is never engaged for the entire waltz or polka, but for one or at most two turns round the room. The Russians, it appears, have a special waltz, light, graceful in character, called the
Canaïca
.
The
Polonaise
, of course, opens the ball. Théophile Gautier described in 1866 the manner of this ceremony, for it is nothing less. The spectators in the ball-room of the Winter Palace separated so as to leave free a pathway of which they formed the hedges. Everyone in position, the orchestra played a majestic air, and with slow steps the promenade began, led by the Emperor giving his hand to some lady whom he wished to honour. They were followed by the rest of the Court, all according to precedence:—
The
cortège
of brilliant uniforms goes on increasing—a nobleman leaves the hedge and takes a lady by the hand, and this new couple take their place in the procession, keeping step by step with the leader. It must be very difficult to walk thus under the fire of a thousand eyes, possibly ironical. Military habits do much for the men, but how different for the women. Most of them walk to perfection, and it is a very rare art, that of walking gracefully and simply while being watched; more than one great actress has never understood it. What adds to the originality of the Russian Court is that from time to time a young Circassian prince in his fastidious Oriental dress, or a Mongolian officer, will join the
cortège
. Mahomedan prince, or duke—are they not both subjects of the Emperor of all the Russias?
R
If to Italy we owe the Renaissance of Dancing, to France we owe its development. The French fixed the rules of dancing and transmitted them to other countries. Taking dancing as an art, it is a French art, and no other nation has brought it to such a pitch of taste and delicacy.
When dancing degenerated towards the end of the Roman empire, it found a refuge in Gaul, where it was still kept up in various circuses and theatres. The light-heartedness of the Gauls, their natural gaiety, their love for violent exercise and for pleasure of all sorts, made them delight in dancing and indulge in it with great energy. In spite of the repugnance of the Roman aristocracy, and the prohibitions and anathemas of councils and synods, it was always one of the chief pastimes of the Gauls, and, later on, of the French.
Dancing was an early institution in France; it dates back from the time of knight, hood, when kings gave their vassals dancing entertainments, and the newly made knights had to show their agility and strength before the populace. It is probable that we have here the origin of the quadrilles and other movements on horseback.
The Intermezzi, or Entremets, from which sprang dances, are very ancient. They were performances held at banquets to divert the guests while waiting from dish to dish, and can be traced back to 1237, when St. Louis gave a wedding feast to his brother Robert at Compiègne. Froissart relates that at this feast a knight crossed the hall, riding on horseback over a large tight-rope, stretched over the heads of the guests. Even
In 1393, a dancing entertainment was given by the city of Paris to King Charles VI., and a similar one was offer by the
Horse Quadrille
R 2
Under Louis XIII. everything was dull and sad, for the king's ill-health caused general depression. The Court life was, however, sometimes enlivened by dancing entertainments. In 1630, the Due de Nemours arranged a ballet called ‘The Gout,’ in which he himself figured, sitting in an armchair and beating time with his stick. Louis XIII. also danced on the stage, with all his Court. But these performances were on the whole artificial and strained, and did not come from spontaneous gaiety.
French dancing has been divided into the ‘Danse basse’ and the ‘Danse haute.’ In the sixteenth century these divisions were rigorously kept. The ‘Danse basse’ was very grave, and consisted of glided steps. At the court of Charles IX. it was performed to the accompaniment of psalms. It consisted of three parts—(I) the
Danse basse
proper, (2) the
Retour
, (3) the
Tourdion
, altogether eighty bars, thirty-two for the beginning, sixteen for the return, and thirty-two for the conclusion. From Antoine d'Arena's collection, we have many musical notations of ‘Danses basses,’ but these are mostly of the irregular kind, i.e. of those consisting of more than eighty bars, generally in ¾ time.
The
Danses basses
were also, and more appropriately, called
Danses nobles
, on account of the dignity necessary to their performance, and also because of those who performed them, and who belonged to the Court circles. The other dances of a skipping kind were then mostly executed by clowns and mimes, and were called ‘Danses par en haut’ or ‘baladines,’ but these belong more to the acrobatic order.
The most interesting book on these old French dances, indeed the most interesting book on dancing, was written in 1588 by Jehan Tabourot, under a pseudonym, for he was a monk of Langres, and had to hide his identity. Nearly all later books borrow or quote from him. When Tabourot published his ‘Orchésographie’ there were still very few men who could write at all. Hence we have few details about the dances of this period, which we know must have been a very important one for choregraphic art, especially in France, for the works of the poets of the middle ages contain endless remarks on dancing festivities. Jehan Tabourot had already reached his sixty-ninth year when he wrote his ‘Orchésographie,’ a book full of interesting and curious remarks, one of the strangest of which is the following recommendation: ‘Dancing is practised in order to see whether lovers are healthy and suitable to wed one another; at the end of the dance, the gentlemen are permitted to kiss their mistresses, in order that they may ascertain if they have agreeable breath. In this matter, besides many other good results which follow from dancing, it becomes necessary for the good governing of society.’
In the sixteenth century the influence of Italy was very marked in France. Catherine de Medicis brought with her the taste for luxurious display, for gorgeous banquets and gay festivals. The Valois liked scenic dances, such as those of Italy—allegorical, mythological, historical, and comic ballets—and these Catherine de Medicis introduced from her own country, and developed still further in France. To the grave, rather sad, and monotonous dances prevailing at that period she added others, more lively, which were altered also by thePavane
and
Branle, Gaillarde, Volte
, and
Courante
were the fashion. The steps became more jumping than gliding; the ladies' gowns were shortened, but there were as yet no definite rules for dancing entertainments. There was in fact a time of perfect chaos in dancing. Masked dances were held to the sound of psalms, and Diane de Poitiers danced a ‘volte’ (like our modern waltz) to the air of the ‘De Profundis’!
Sometimes under the Valois the festivities lasted for two consecutive days, and after these great festivities were the signal for great massacres. The ball held on the eve of St. Barthélemy is an appalling instance. On October 15, 1581, occurred the Ballet de la Royne organised by Balthazarini or Beaujoyeux, who arranged or invented many of the entertainments of that epoch. He was a Piedmontese and Chamberlain to Catherine de Medicis. The ballet represented twelve geometrical figures, and the first part ended with a very lively air called ‘La Clochette.’
Air de la Clochete
(
fameux sous Henri III
.)
The hall represented Circe's gardens. It was a magnificent ballet of naiades and nymphs, of goddesses and satyrs, &c, and lasted from 10 P.M. to 4 A.M. The conclusion was somewhat novel, every lady making a present of some article of gold to her partner. This entertainment cost a sum which nowadays would represent twenty million francs.
In another entertainment given at Bayonne, the national dances of France were introduced, and thus popularised among the gentry.
The characteristic feature of all the French dances of the sixteenth century is that, as in Greece, order and proportion were always observed, and that when foreign forms, such as Spanish, Italian, or German, were adopted, even in provincial dancing they became modified in such a way that their artistic value was increased. In fact, so modified and perfect did they become that they often returned to their native land under a totally different form. At all times in France, as in Greece, dancing was regarded as part of the education of a nobleman, and during the French Revolution, when the refugees found a shelter in hospitable Britain, many of the aristocrats made use of their choregraphic talent to earn a livelihood. This may perhaps account for the fact that in the heart of the English
The Troubadours mention many dances without giving details tails about them. No doubt the movements were so familiar that they thought a description of them unnecessary and useless. They often speak of the
Danse au Virlet
, a circular dance, during the performance of which each person in turn sang a verse, the chorus being repeated by all. The Courts of Love defended dancing against the clergy, and a Provengal poem has the following remark: ‘Youth and gaiety opened the ball, accompanied by their sister Bravery; Cowardice, confused, went of her own accord and hid herself.’ An old chronicler also relates that when the Crusaders were lying before the town of St. Jean d'Acre, the Italians beguiled the time with songs, the Spaniards with games, the Germans with feasting, the English with cockfighting, and the French with dancing.
No doubt the influence of French dancing, especially under the Valois, has made itself felt through all European Courts, and from the higher circles has permeated into the habits of all sorts and conditions of men. Dancing is a very fugitive art; it re-echoes the fashion of the hour, and as in all matters of fashion and of taste France has always been to the front, the number of French dances is very great. We cannot enter into them all in this work, but many are worthy of a description.
The
FRENCH BALL, CIRCA 1660Branle
—which later on in England became the
Brawl
—was susceptible of every possible variety, and had very quaint names. In this sport the number of performers was not limited, and all who wished to dance might join. Each gentleman
(
From an Engrraving by Abraham Rosec
)le branle double
and
le branle simple
for aged couples. After this came the
branle gai
, something like our polka, for newly-married pairs, or for people about thirty; then the
branle bourguignon
for very young and agile dancers. The whole concluded with a
ronde
, and the times varied according to the figures. Tabourot says that in high circles ‘this art so ancient, so honourable and so profitable,’ was held in esteem ; that the older people liked it because it gave them an opportunity to show off their agility, and the young as an exercise and an amusement.
It is noticeable that in the dances of the period the figures were ordered so as to exhibit to the fullest extent and to the best advantage the performers themselves. The highest or noblest person of the company always led the
branle
. We see this from a passage in Boccaccio, where he says, ‘The Queen gave the order to begin the dance, which Lauretta was to lead, while Emilia was to sing.’
The
branle
was in 2 time; a great accomplishment in connection with it being the ‘ rû de vache’ (the cow's kick), a sort of jerk performed with the leg. The man skilled in this accomplishment was a sort of hero in the sixteenth century.
It is not surprising that in the sixteenth century dances were so greatly in fashion, seeing that the kings themselves looted it so bravely, and that in all ages the people have delighted to imitate their sovereigns. They danced everywhere, and on the slightest occasion. It is also a point worthy of note that in times of national sorrow, of war, or of oppression, dancing is found to be always on the increase; for instance, at the time of the Valois, noblemen just returned from the battle-field would go and dance madly at Court. The balls of this period were generally held in the Salle des Cariatides in the Louvre.
Every province had its own
branle
; the Bretons called theirs ‘
Passepied
’ or ‘
Trihoris
,’ of which we shall have more to say later. The
Branle du Haut Barrois
was speciallybranles mimés
, such as the
Branle des lavandières
, where the movement of washing clothes was imitated by hand gestures, and the
Branle des ermites
, for which monks' attire was donned. The ronde and game ‘ sur le Pont d'Avignon ’ is a survival of this dance, which was given in two files, the performers crossing their hands over the chest, and bowing in cadence. Real dramatic talent was required for these sixteenth-century dances. They seem indeed to have been invented quite as much for the enjoyment of the spectators as for that of the performers, who took the greatest pains to please their audience.
Danse de la Bassede Bretagne
Another of these
branles mimés
was the
branle des flambeaux
, in which Queen Marguerite of Valois danced so exquisitely. Brantôme praises her dancing, and calls her ‘la plus suave dame du monde,’ and Ronsard described her as one who ‘à bonds légers voloit parmy la salle.’
These dances with lighted torches were performed in various ways. Sometimes a gentleman stepped forward with a lighted taper or torch, capered once or twice round the room, then chose a lady, danced with her a moment, gave her the torch, and returned to his seat. The lady then invited a
Torch Dance at the Court of Burgundy (anno 1463)
The
Torch dance
was held at great festivals until 1713, but was chiefly a wedding dance, and was in favour at Court until 1700. The step was the same as that of the ‘
Allemande
,’ and a special interest is attached to the
branle
in connection with the folk-song. Many of these songs still existing in France date back to the dance tunes—i.e. to a time whenbranles
, such as the well-known ‘ Marlbrough s'en va-t-en guerre,’ the ‘ Carillon de Dunkerque,’ the ‘ Chevalier du guet,’ &c.
Arena, a Provençal poet of 1500, calls the
branle
‘congedium,’ because of the movements of the dancer, which seemed to express the desire to leave off. Yet the
branle
proper was really only the beginning of the dance. Full directions are given for these dances in Tabourot's ‘Orchésographie.’ It is amusing to note those furnished by the good old monk as to the demeanour of male dancers in the ball-room:
Don't bend your head down to look if your steps are well performed, but raise your head, and look about with assurance; don't use your handkerchief more than is necessary, but if you use it, be sure it is very clean.
Talk gracefully, and be well clad and shod; be sure that the hose is pulled straight, and that the slipper is clean.
You can if you wish invite two damoisels, but one will be sufficient, &c. &c.
Another of these
branles
, viz. the
Branle des Brandens
, was danced on the first Sunday in Lent, with a lighted torch in the dancer's hand. Probably this is a remnant of an old superstitious practice of the ancient Gauls. During the month of February, which was the last of the solar year, the ancient inhabitants of France ran about the forests at night with lighted torches and danced—a rite which was supposed to be one of purification, and also a ceremony which was meant to bring rest to their departed relatives and friends. It is probable that the custom was founded in a utilitarian spirit by the Druidic priests, who knew that to run about with lights in the woods would free the trees from caterpillars, which generally emerge from their eggs in Spring.
The
Tourdion
, with which the
branles
concluded, was of livelier rhythm. The
Tourdion
is the same as the
Gaillarde
, only that the latter is danced with jumping steps, while theTourdion
is glided. These dances have five steps, hence also called
cinque-pas
. In the
Tourdion
the lady was always led by the hand, while in the
Gaillarde
everyone danced alone. Both dances had the curious and complicated old French steps, made, grue, &c., which are minutely described in the ‘Orchésographic.’
A celebrated
Gaillarde
was the one ’ Si je t'aime ou non,’ in which there was much kicking and skipping. To excel in some of the steps of the
Gaillarde
was looked upon as an accomplishment equal to that of riding or fencing. Another was the ‘Baisons-nous belle,’ the most popular of all; ‘for, says the venerable Arbeau, ‘we may conjecture that the dancers found it agreeable, as it introduced a pleasant variation ! ’
Galliarde
(
From the Orchésographie
)
The
Tourdion
was occasionally a grotesque dance, in which a man appeared, often in the midst of a banquet, with blackened face, yellow scarf on his head, and bells on his legs, going through clownish antics.
The
Pavane
, also called
Pavenne
, and, in England,
Pavin, Pavon
, &c. &c., was one of the oldest ‘Basses danses.’ There is much dispute about the origin of the name. Does it come from Padua, or from Pavo ? Is it of Spanish or of Italian origin ? I think it is essentially a French dance, and one that was much performed because of its simplicity and beauty. It was mainly a Court dance, and was also called ‘ le grand
The tablature of Arbeau describes the various steps, figures, and movements of the dance in so much detail that one might easily at the present time, from a study of his work, represent a
Pavane
with all accuracy. It was danced in slow time by one or two couples, sometimes by two damoisels alone. Before beginning the dance, the performers walked gravely round the room, and saluted the King and Queen, or the great dignitaries who gave the ball. The steps were simple, and were called ‘advancing’ and ‘retreating.’ Tabourot recommends that the tune should be sung by four voices, and he says it has ‘two advancings and two retreatings’ of 32 bars. To prolong it, it must be begun anew as long as it pleases musicians and dancers. In ‘retreating,’ the gentlemen walked behind their ladies, leading them by the hand; then came a few glided steps and a great many curtseys, and everyone regained his place. In the next figure, the gentlemen alone capered backwards and forwards before their ladies, and the conclusion was a ‘conversion,’ or turn with them. This turn gave opportunity for the display of graceful rounding of the arm and wrist, which were raised high. Next one of the gentlemen advanced alone, and, describing a slight curve in the middle of the ball-room, went ‘ en se pavanant’ (strutting like a peacock) to salute the lady opposite him, after which, taking some backward steps, he regained his place, bowing to his own lady.
THE PAVANE AT THE COURT OF HENRI III., CIRCA 1580
The
Pavane
, accompanied by a song during which the performers kissed each other, has left survivals in many countries. There is a sixteenth-century air, in which a trill on the musical instruments indicates that it is the moment to give the salute. Sometimes in a country gathering, in the midst of a quadrille, the significative signal is given, causing much amusement. George Sand has described such a scene, as also has Swinburne. The
Pavane
is mentioned by Rabelais as one of the 180 dances of the Queen of Lanternois.
The
Pavane d'Espagne
, said to have been invented by Ferdinand Cortez on his return from Mexico, was danced by knights in their coat of mail, and by women draped in their manta. As it was a very solemn dance, it was diversified by many gestures, and thus lost its physiognomy for a time. Later, however, it regained its original character, then again it became full of affectations. It was much danced during the reign of Louis XIV., and afterwards seems to have disappeared.
The
Courante
(Italian ‘Corrente’) was always a Court, never a popular, dance of the sixteenth, seventeenth, and eighteenth centuries. It was often sung, and was performed on tip-toe with curved and slightly jumped steps and many curtseys; the dancer, always jumping slightly, led his lady round the room and back to her place, where, after a new obeisance, he left her.
The
Courante
has varied at different periods. In the sixteenth century it partook of the character of a pantomime, which was intended at the beginning of the ball to show off the skill and grace of the performers. Tabourot says that in his time (i.e. 1530) three young men invited three young girls, and stood ‘all in a row.’ The first dancer led his lady to the other end of the room, and left her there, while he returned to the others. The two other gentlemen did the same, until the ladies were all on one side of the room, the men on the other. As soon as the last had returned, the first began to adjust his dress and to hop towards his partner, who repelled him by a wave of her hand, and turned her back upon him. He thencourante
.
Morley describes the Branles and Courantes of 1597. The
branle
, he says, is called the ‘Brangill of Poictu,’ and he adds: ‘like to this, but more light, be the
voltes
and
courantes
, which being both of a measure are notwithstanding danced after sundrie fashions—the
volte
rising and leaping, the
courante
travising and running.’
Some of the
courantes
were very solemn. This was the favourite dance of Louis XIV., who is said to have performed it better than anyone else. The movements of the
courante
were so important that it was looked upon as absolutely necessary to learn it before any other dance.
Madame de Sévigné danced it at the ‘fête des Etats de Bretagne.’ It has been compared to the Spanish
Seguidilla
, and is by some supposed to be the parent of the waltz.
The
Menuet
(Eng., Minuet; Ital., il Minuetto; Ger., die Menuett) was a
branle
of Poitou, and was thus called because of its small steps. It was derived from the
courante
. When the pupil knew the steps of the
courante
well, when he could turn his feet properly and control his movements, he was initiated into the mysteries of the graceful and ceremonious
Menuet
, which took three months to learn, and of which there were endless varieties. Of all dances the
Menuet
has remained longest in vogue, has been most often described and written about, and represented in painting. Sénac de Meilhan says, ‘Life is like a Menuet—a few turns are made in order to curtsey in the same spot from which we started.’ It was the dance of ceremony, of courtesy, and of chivalry. The highest in the land, and the most dignified, have been proud to walk through a minuet.
J. J. Rousseau says that it is the least gay of the society A STRANGE ‘CORANTO’
(
An incident in the life of Claude Duxal, after W. P. Frith, R. A
.)
The true
Menuet
was simple, dignified, noble, and graceful. A beautiful woman dancing the measure turned the heads of all onlookers. Don John of Austria, Viceroy of the Netherlands, travelled incognito to Paris merely to see Marguerite de Bourgogne dance a
Menuet
.
Count Moroni remarks that in the
Menuet
the eighteenth century was truly portrayed. It was, so to speak, the expression of that olympic calm and universal languor which characterised everything, even the pleasures of society. In 1740 the social dances of France were as stiff as the old French gardens, and marked by an elegant coolness, prudery, and modesty. The pastime was not even called ‘dancing.’ People spoke of it as ‘Tracer les chiffres d'amour,’ and no such commonplace expression as violin was used during this stilted period. The musical instruments which accompanied the dance were called ‘les âames des pieds.’ The historical importance of the
Menuet
is instanced by the fact that it has not become obsolete, but still holds a place in the symphony.
It was introduced into Paris in 1650, and was set to music by Lulli in 1653. Louis XIV. did the composer the honour of dancing it in public. The best idea of the importance of dancing at the Court of Louis XIV. can be gained from Molière, who says in the ‘Bourgeois Gentilhomme’ that the destiny of nations depends on the art of dancing. Louis XIV. did not disdain to busy himself with the composition of ballets; n y, he danced in them himself, and took dancing lessons from Beauchamps for twenty years. He danced with professional ballet dancers until he was thirty-two, when, his figure having become less supple, he renounced the pleasure. Some say that he was struck by some verses in Racine's ‘Britannicus,’ in which Nero's dramatic proclivities are ridiculed. Be that as it may, his last appearance was on February 13, 1669, in the Ballet of
S
Mr. Scott in his work, ‘The Art of Dancing,’ says that the rules about the Menuet would fill a volume, but that there are five requisites for making a good figure in the dance—a
Giving one hand in a ‘Menuet’
(
From an Engraving after B. Dandridge
, 1737)Menuet
that French choregraphy has taken the precedency of all other forms, and for a century and a half every state ball in Europe was opened with a
Menuet
. It was called the queen of dances, and will, I think, still keep it supremacy for a long time to come, although in modern times it has been employed
There were four Menuet, viz.—‘Le Menuet du Dauphin,’ ‘Le Menuet de la Reine,’ ‘Le Menuet d'Exaudet,’ and ‘Le Menuet de la Cour.’ The ‘Menuet de la Cour’ was the usual dance, and was in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries
Lady giving both hands in a ‘Menuet’ Gentleman ‘Walking’ the Menuet
(
From an Engraving after B. Dandridge
, 1737)Menuet
, how seriously noblemen took Marcel's famous words, ‘Que de choses dans un menuet!’ and how much the ladies looked down upon a man who was not skilled in the measure. In those days of chivalrous feeling towards women every man tried to obtain
S 2Menuet
. Men of to-day, who live in an atmosphere of steam and electricity, and are ever in a hurry, can scarcely realise how their ancestors could take the trouble to study the intricate steps and positions of these dances ‘full of state and ancientry,’ with their ever-recurrent curtseys and bows; but,
(
From an Engraving after Watteau
)Menuet
was usual men had still leisure to be gallant, and still time to be courteous.
Costume was not an indifferent agent in such dances. When a man had to take off his three-cornered hat, put it under his arm, bow low and kiss the fair bejewelled hand extended to him, it all took time, and the interval had to be THE MENUET, 1720Menuet
. Ours is an age of polka and pas de quatre. I doubt whether the dance forms of the nineteenth century will find artists to represent them on canvas, as the
Menuets
and
Gavottes
have been represented by Watteau, Lancret, Millais, and so many others, or whether they will inspire such musical compositions as those of Mozart and other great masters.
Menuet du Dauphin
The
Gavotte
was originally a peasant's dance, and takes its name from Gap,
The inhabitants of Gap are called ‘Gavots.’
The
Gavotte
was also introduced into Paris, and was in 1600 and 1700 remodelled according to the fashion and taste of the period. The oldest
Gavotte
we have is in the ‘Orchésographie,’
In the
Gavotte
the dancers stood in a row or a circle, and, after a few capers, a couple danced alone, and saluted each other with a kiss. The lady then kissed all the men in turn, her partner at the same time kissing all the other ladies.
When this dance became modified it lost its merry character, and was rather stiff and affected, something like the Menuet. It has indeed been called the offspring of the Menuet. It was usual at one time to offer the ladies a posy instead of a kiss. The
Gavotte
was a tender dance until it became a stage dance, performed only by professionals. Two celebrated theatrical gavottes are those of Gluck and of Grétry, especially the latter, which became quite the rage. It was Marie Antoinette who brought back the
Gavotte
into fashion as a court and society dance.
After the Revolution the old Gavotte was revived, but was not liked. Gardel, a celebrated dancer, composed a new Gavotte on Grétry's air, and it was danced to perfection by Trémis. It was, however, not a favourite at balls, partly because it attracted attention only to two or four people, and partly because we have lately become so envious of other people's talents. Formerly we were content to sit and watch those who could dance with beauty and grace; now we are more egotistical—we must dance ourselves, even if we have not the least skill, and even if the room is so crowded that toes are trodden upon and gowns torn to pieces. The
The GAVOTTE, 1780Gavotte
which still exists to-day, and has been called ‘La Danse classique,’ was invented by Vestris. The name of ‘danse classique’ was given to it because its steps and figures are so beautifully arranged that it would be impossible to find a better order, yet the dance can be performed with simple as well as with complicated steps. The old gavottes were formerly a collection of
All traditional popular songs of France, even the gravest, were originally dance tunes. The sad songs have long ago ceased to fulfil that purpose, but the livelier ones exist even to-day. The songs composed by Eustache du Canroy for Charles IX. were originally dance airs, mainly Gavottes. The same tunes now exist in France as Christmas carols.
A typical dance-song, and at the same time a typical popular French song, is the one given in the ‘Grande Encyclopédie’—‘En passant par la Lorraine:’
1. En passant par la Lorraine,
Rencontrai trois capitaines
Avec mes sabots dondaine
Oh ! oh ! oh !
Avec mes sabots.
2. En passant par la Lorraine
Rencontrai trois capitaines:
Ils m'ont appelée vilaine.
Je ne suis pas si vilaine
Puisque le ills du Roi m'aime;
Il m'a donné pour étrenne
Un bouquet de marjolaine:
S'il fleurit je serai reine,
S'il y meurtje perds mapeine.
The refrains of the dance songs are onomatopœiæ, or mimologisms, representing the rhythm, the voice and the movements of the dance. ‘La-la, tra-la’ is most frequent. Béranger's ‘Trala, la, la, les demoiselles,’ and Roi d'Yvetot's ‘Oh ! oh ! oh ! oh! ah! ah! ah! ah! Quelbon petit Roi c'était là,’ ‘Lonlan-la’ and ‘ô gué,’ are refrains of old dance-songs, as are also ‘Larira-larirette, landeridette,’ &c; for instance, in the ‘Quand
These refrain forms are similar to the English ‘tol de rol’ and ‘down derry down;’ but though Italy and Germany have also their ‘fal la la,’ their ‘hallo’ and ‘juchhe,’ France is the country richest in songs with refrains, in popular songs, and in dance-songs.
Different customs prevail in different parts of France.
The festival of St. John, the Christian substitute for the Druidic Sun-feast, is still kept up in Brittany. Fires blaze on every hill-top, and the inhabitants dance round them all night to the sound of their native instrument, a rustic kind of hautboy, called the biniou. The maid who dances round St. John's fires nine times before midnight is sure to marry within the year.
There is something of the humour and pathos of the Irish temperament to be found in Brittany. The Breton gives himself up fully to the merriment of the wedding or fair, and to all the fun which makes part of the ‘Pardons,’ yet his Celtic origin leads him to celebrate in preference sad ceremonials.
Of these ‘Pardons’ M. de Villemarqué has given us some details. They last about three days, and have often been described and painted. Bells toll early; the chapels and altars are decorated with flowers; statues of saints are clad in national dress, and offerings of corn, flax, sheepskins, and cakes are brought to the tutelary saint, as in the old Pagan times gifts were brought to the idol. Dancing begins to the sound of the traditional biniou, while near the chapel or the fountain sits the orchestra on a moss-grown dolmen. The peasants cannot always, however, have an orchestra. Occasionally they wish to dance a ronde or passe-pied and no
Sonneur
is present, in lieu of whom they take an ivy-leaf, roll it round and whistle into it, holding it between their teeth. Some sing while others dance, or they sing and dance together. The importance of the song in popular dancing is a vast subject, the study of which would bring to light many interesting details, especially if we traced it from the nursery rhyme to the dance on the green.
A curious old dance tune of Brittany is ‘The Wine of the Gauls and the Dance of the Sword,’ of which the music, taken from M. de la Villemarqué's collection is here appended:—
Gwin ar Challaoued
In former times there existed a Celtic sword dance in honour of the Sun, with a chorus invoking fire and snow, oak, earth and waves. The young men moved about in a circle, throwing their swords into the air, catching them in rhythm, and forming with the sword-points a circular figure called The Rose. This wild and warlike dance has been described by Olaus Magnus and by Tacitus, and references will be found to it in the accounts of the dances of Northumberland and of Scotland.
The games which were held round the Celtic monuments during the summer solstice vividly recall those ceremonies which took place in Brittany, and which the Gaelic bards have commemorated. They must have existed in Armorica in all their purity up to the fifth century, for we find the Acts of the Council of Vannes forbidding the pastimes.
Every Saturday afternoon in June, at 4 o'clock, men and women gather round some dolmen; the youths wear green ears of corn in their hats, and the girls flowers of flax. A ‘master’ is chosen to lead the feast, usually the handsomest and most skilful of the dancers. This fortunate person chooses a girl as queen of the day, and places a silver ring on her finger.
The inauguration of a new threshing-floor is also a day of great rejoicing in Brittany. The following is a description of the custom, as given by Tom Taylor in his translation of Villemarqué:—
When a new threshing-floor is required, the farmer's neighbors all arrive with clay and barrels full of water. Horses, all beribboned, are brought, and are driven round and round to work the clay and water into a mass of the required consistency. Sometimes a table is placed in the centre of the new floor, a chair is set on it, and the prettiest girl is kept a prisoner there, and is not released except on payment of some merry forfeit. A week afterwards, when the clay is hardened, the new floor becomes a ballroom, and long chains of dances or rounds of young girls, carrying on their heads full milk-pails, or crocks filled with flowers, whirl
The composition of the dance-songs of Brittany is usually the result of collaboration. Sometimes the dance itself stirs the imagination of the improvisers, the subjects being furnished from history or from legend. The peasant is fond of the fantastical—the marvellous has a powerful fascination for him. This man of Nature is really the very opposite of a realist; the ideal is his true domain. Gnomes and sprites, fairies and dwarfs haunt the woods, and rocks, and streams of Brittany; the Korrigans play round the fountains, and specially round the springs near the dolmens, and the doings of these aërial beings give rise to the ballad and the dance. Dancing is not always, however, their vocation. In some parts of Brittany this gives way to the more exciting business of stealing children. The dwarfs also dance their fantastic round in and out among the Celtic monuments, the song to their orbicular chorus being Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday.’ They must not say Saturday and Sunday—days of bad omen for fairies. Woe to the traveller who passes near them in the night-watches ! He is driven into the ring, and must dance till he drops dead. Their great day is the first Wednesday in May.
If we pass from Brittany to Normandy, we find that the popular dances most in vogue there at all times are the
branle
and the
ronde
. In all the verses belonging to the dance we find interesting historical indications. Take, for instance, ‘ La Chanson du mois de Mai.’ We see in it that the arrival of the cuckoo appears to cause the dislike, now almost universal, to marrying in May.
Jeunes gens qu'êtes à marier,
Oh ! ne vous mariez pas dans le mois de mai;
J'ai vu le coucou ! ! ! mé, mé.
J'ai vule coucou ! ! ! mé mé.
The Karoles (the Christmas carol) were early introduced into Normandy, as also that remarkable production of essentially French irony, the
Vau de Fire
(or ‘
Passe-caille
’ ), which later on became the Vaudeville. When, under Louis XII., the Tribunal'de l'Echiquier was made into a parliament, some great festivities took place in Rouen, about which the poet sings:—
Faisons banquets, et nous esiouissons,
Avec buts, rebecs, flûtes, tambours,
Harpes, flageols, basses, danses, chansons
The study of these subjects has now become very difficult, for there are now few national dances performed in Normandy. Only children seem to keep up the popular ‘ rondes’ in their games. The true
branle
, which we still find now and again in remote villages of Normandy, has unfortunately a song inclined to be coarse, and its themes are mostly about matrimonial dis-illusions. It is nevertheless interesting to note how everywhere and at all times has been one of the necessities of human nature. We can do without great pageants and brilliant orchestras; we can exist without skilled tip-toe ballet-girls, but we must have music in some form or other, and we must have almost as much as we must have bread and water. These primary necessities are developed and refined by civilisation, but are not destroyed.
The
branle carré
, the
rigodai
, &c., are still kept up at village festivals. In the department of the Ain these dancing entertainments are called ‘Vogues,’ and take place in a farm court, a barn, or a meadow, to the shrill sound of the bagpipe.
The great favourite is still the
ronde
, with its lively refrain and its quaint themes, such as that of the three ladies who dress their hair by candle-light, of the nightingale as a messenger, and the king's son in love with the shepherdess. True flowers of native poetry are these, wild, simple, and fragrant
Dance-song of the Ain
(‘
Virez-vous, tournez-vous
’)
Oh ! lou la virez-vous,
Oh ! lou la tournez-vous,
Oh ! lou la rite, rite,
Oh ! lou la tournant-toujours,
Oh ! lou la virez-vous,
Oh ! lou la tournez-vous.
The
Bourrée
belongs to the Auvergne and the Berri, and has been danced at Court ever since its introduction under Catherine de Medicis in 1565. The dancers here stand opposite one another, and there are various steps, e.g. the ‘pas de bourrée’ in two movements, and the ‘pas de fleurets.’ There were also the ‘ pas de bourrée ouvert,’ and the ‘ pas de bourrée emboîté.’
Songs accompanied this dance, and often replaced the instrumental music. They were popular, and of strongly accentuated rhythm. At the present time in Auvergne one can see peasants and singing, for hours together, short airs repeated again and again without a pause.
(Rhythm 2 4 ♪ | ♪ —)
The
bourrée
is a dance of a careless form. It is a skipping dance, and can therefore only be danced with short skirts. Marguerite of Valois liked it, because it gave her the chance of showing her feet and ankles, which were marvels of beauty.bourrée
as a society or as a scenic dance, it has never found much favour; it is now essentially a local dance of peasants, and is performed with clogs. It is astonishing to see how the clumsy Auvergnat, the traditional Paris water-carrier and porter, becomes lively and light when he dances the
bourrée
, how his heavy frame moves in cadence, and how the clogs fall together with a precision which a well-drilled regiment might envy, while an occasional shout of ‘ You-you’ is heard. Sir Arthur Sullivan gives a good example of the modem baurrée in his music to the ‘ Merchant of Venice,’ but here is a local tune:
Bourreé D'Auvergne
Dancing among French peasants is the first of all pleasures. The country yokel, so heavy and awkward in other matters, finds for the dance agility and vivacity. This pastime brings him forgetfulness of his labours, and the satisfaction of self-love. The village dance is the first step towards culture, for it requires strength and grace, and a certain bravery and neatness of dress. It makes movements less rough, and turns the boor into a polished being.
La Robine
(
French Peasant's Dance
)
In every province of France has been held in honour. As we travel from north to south, we find that assumes livelier forms, and that the dances are lighter and more supple. In the Landes the peasants caper about with delight, while the ‘ménétrier’ on his stilts plays on fife and drum. Racine, travelling in Southern France, was quite surprised to find bare-footed peasants making curtseys as well as if they had all their lives learned the arts of grace and deportment. Perhaps they may have imbibed some of the traditions of their ancestors the
T
The Dauphiné dance is called ‘ Bacchu-ber.’
One of the customs of Provence is for the gentleman to invite his partner by offering her a pretty packet of pins, after the reception of which every girl is willing to whirl about like a windmill. Goldsmith, travelling along the borders of the Loire, played the flute to make the villagers dance. He played to such purpose that matrons and grey-haired men turned out with maids and youths to take part in the measure. Sterne, when in Touraine, liked to see the grandfather who has given him shelter bring out his
vielle
and play on it, while his aged spouse sang an ancient dance-tune, and the children disported themselves on the lawn. Mirabeau describes frequently how the peasants, after their rough daily toil, danced in the moonlight, to the sound of fife and drum. It seems as if the voluntary exercise gave rest from imposed labour. Everything affords a pretext for to the rustics—the harvesting of the corn, the gathering of the chestnuts in Poitou or of the olives in Provence, or a vintage rejoicing, all finish with a dance. The women caper about with their arms a-kimbo; the men tread the measure with heavy accentuation, their iron-clad boots falling in time to the rhythm. Then they slowly lift first one leg and then the other, clapping their hands below the knees with loud yells.
Weddings above all give rise to a dance, as also festivals held for saints' days and fairs. Every province of France has a different name for its village feasts; but whether at the
Ducasses
or Kermesses of the North, at the
Vogues
of Dauphiné, or the Pardons of Brittany, at the
Apports
of Berry, the
Romerages
of Provence, or the
ballades
or
gros fromages
of Poitou, after the Mass is over comes a banquet, and after the banquet a dance. The old French proverb says, ‘Après la panse (feast) vient la danse.’
In some parts there existed the belief that the tutelary saint favoured the sports, and youths and maidens went to fetch the banner, and fixing it on a lance, made it preside over the entertainment. In 1661 this custom was abolished by the clergy. In French Flanders it is still the custom to dance at the funeral of a young man or girl. The youths of the neighbourhood gather together and dance all night, rejoicing that a comrade has died while still in the age of innocence.
A funeral dance of French Flanders.Dans der Maegdekens
Sometimes the entertainment became a matter of obligation—a feudal ‘handsel’ or earnest, as when the Lord of the Manor made his first appearance in the village, it was obligatory to offer a song to his lady, and to dance before him. Little by little noblemen and vassals became less familiar with one another, and their merry duties were converted into pecuniary indemnities, which it may be suspected the peasants acquitted with less pleasure.
T 2
The aristocracy of former times had a wonderful activity for pleasure, and were very sociable. In spite of bad roads and defective means of communication, they would travel a hundred miles in a shaky carriage to join a entertainment; and this exuberance also affects the peasant, who not only is a spectator in the festivals, but also an active agent. Madame de Sévigné, who was a great dancer herself, and who excelled in the passe-pied, gives a ball at the Chateau des Rochers, and all take part in it.
Sonneux
(musicians) of Brittany and dancers perform passepied, menuet, and courante. Another noble lady arranges a water festival in which country lads and lasses all be-ribbonned dance and play tambourines. Towards the end of the reign of Louis XV. pastoral entertainments were highly in vogue, and ‘ paysanneries’ were arranged on every possible occasion.
Some dances were held for special occasions—one, for instance, on April 23, by all the inhabitants of the villages close to where Marius defeated the Teutons. They went to a hill called Ste Victoire, and built up a pyre, lighted it, and danced around with flower-crowned heads. The clergy were always averse to these entertainments, which unfortunately often ended in drunken brawls, and they took all available measures to abolish on Sundays and on feast-days, recommending their rustic parishioners to recreate themselves by attending church services, by reading and walking. But this is not compatible with peasant nature; the rest from labour consists in forgetting it, and to uncultivated minds recreation must always take the form of violent pastimes. ‘Holiday-making,’ says the labourer, ‘is to the year what the noonday oats are to the horse.’ The feast-days rejoice the youths, who under the eye of their elders divert themselves and become more sociable; they afford an opportunity for making an offer of marriage, and bring together again estranged friends.
In studying the question of rural sports we find that they decrease in proportion as the welfare of the peasant increases. The well-to-do peasant neglects ancient customs. Goldsmith, in the ‘ Vicar of Wakefields’ says that the poorest of the French
Au lieu d'étudier, allait le temps passer
Dessous maitre François, pour apprendre à danser.
The author, continuing, describes what we should now call a ‘ pas de deux,’ in which Michault jumps in the air, and Marion jumps too. Michault kisses Marion, and gives her a posy. Marion, as is the way of women, is not grateful for this favour, and at once chooses another partner. Then comes the distribution of prizes, during which eight players, divided into two sets, have a tennis match. Claude Gauchet was Prior of Autheuil in Valois. It has already been remarked that only churchmen know how to describe with accents of truth.
The
Farandole
is the popular dance of the South of France, as the Bourrée is the popular dance of the Centre. It has been said by some to be a survival of the Geranos of ancient Greece, or to have been imported into Marseilles by the Phocians of Asia Minor. Other archaeologists say that theFahrende
, i.e. a troop of ambulating actors.
The
Farandole
is performed in the following manner:—A youth, necessarily a bachelor (no married man is allowed the privilege), preceded by fife and drum, holds a handkerchief or a ribbon to his partner; she, again, takes hold of the handkerchief of another man, and a human chain of indefinite length is thus formed. The leader waves his handkerchief, and by this means leads all the figures of the dance, the whole troop obeying this flag-signal implicitly. On the order of the leader, the chain of men and women begins to move, running through field and street, through village and town, and increasing in number as they go on. All this performance takes place to the noisy accompaniment of the dram and the shrill accents of the fife, and the chain forms its serpentine undulations and windings and zigzags, according to the pleasure of the leader. Sometimes a couple lift their arms, and the others must all pass under the arch thus formed, as in the nursery game of oranges and lemons. Sometimes the last couple stop suddenly, and all the others must wind round this stem till movement becomes impossible, and the leader in a skilful way begins to unwind the human reel. Occasionally the leader performs extravagant capers and antics, which everyone must imitate exactly. When these dances are held at night, they are even more picturesque, as each dancer carries a Venetian lantern, which gives the appearance of so many will-o'-the-wisps.
Generally the
farandole
is danced as a rejoicing over family events, such as christenings, marriages, and births. It seems a pity that this charming dance should have some tragic stories connected with it, that it should have become an occasion for satisfying fanatic hatreds and party feelings, and should have been stained with blood, as in the farandole in which General Ramel was assassinated at Toulouse in 1815, to the cry of ‘Vive le Roi!’ In these terrible farandoles every Bonapartist was whirled in the round. Woe to him whose arm
Daudet, in ‘Numa Roumestan,’ gives a beautiful description of a farandole, got up on the spur of the moment in the old amphitheatre of Aps in Provence. Valmajour, the tambourinaire, has been playing, when a cry is made, ‘La farandole!’ In an instant the circus is filled with a crowd of villagers, a motley medley of white scarves and gay skirts, of ribbons and lace, of blouses and vests. A trill on the ‘galoubet’ makes the whole mass undulate, and the farandole, led by a lad from Brabantane, the birthplace of famous dancers, slowly begins to move. Suddenly the head of the dance appeared between the arcs of the first row, while the tambourinaire and the last farandoleurs were still in the circus. As it proceeded the farandole increased, all those carried away by the rhythm feeling bound to join. Daudet continues to paint in words how the long chain reached the highest rows of the amphitheatre, how beneath the archways of the old building the dancers with their grave faces formed silhouettes, reminding him of some old basso relievo in an ancient ruined temple.
Another dance of Provence, similar to the farandole, is
Les Olivettes
, in which the dancers, crowned with flowers and wearing gay ribbons, form a serpentine chain round three trees, and dance until they are quite exhausted. ‘Allons, allons, Annette, Dansons les Olivetres,’ says the old song.
La Chaconne
is a Spanish dance, adopted by the French people, and transformed by them into a social dance. Musical composers have also done much to alter its character. It was generally the concluding dance of a ball, in which the dancers used to stand in two lines, the gentlemen on one side, the ladies on the other. They danced at the same time, but each group performed different figures. From time to time the leader performed a solo step, or a ‘pas de deux,’ and finally all the dancers met together for a last figure. The movement of this dance was slow, and in 3 4 time. A good account of it will beChaconne
consists in the choice of songs which will indicate the movement. Anyone who wishes to know the exact steps of the
Chaconne
must be referred to Compan's Dictionary.
In the eighteenth century the beautiful old social dances disappeared, or were modified and took more or less of their present form. Grave and difficult dances were given up, and
la Contredanse
, which was much more easy, came into favour. Anglomania favoured the introduction of British jigging dance forms. The
Contredanse
is said to have originated in Normandy, whence it is supposed to have passed into England with William the Conqueror. It spread all over Europe, and was very usual in 1600. Long forgotten and neglected in France, it reappeared suddenly in 1745, in the fifth act of an opera-ballet of Rameau, and so charmed the Parisians that from the stage it came into the drawing-room. It has since changed into the
Quadrille
, but the dance is still the same. The name is supposed to be a corruption of
country
-dance. It would, however, be tedious to elucidate this matter. What is certain is that the
Courante
disappeared, that the Menuet became quicker and quicker till it also vanished, and that the
Quadrille
came into vogue.
The history of the
Quadrille
is very interesting. Originally a card game played by four people, it has since passed through various forms. Each of its figures has some curious import, and formerly every figure had its appropriate step, as, for instance, ‘la poule,’ in which the clucking of a hen was imitated. To-day there are no steps in the quadrille, and a nonchalant walk is the fashion.
In spite of the variety of
Quadrille
and
Lancers
figures, the
Contredanse
alone could not form the programme of a ball, and, the old French forms being neglected, German gyratory movements were often introduced.
The French
The Quadrille.—Figure 1: Le Pantalon The Quadrille.—Figure 2: L'EtéQuadrille
can be danced by two, by four, or any number of couples. No matter how many the number
(
From Heath's ‘Northern Looking-Glass
,’ 1825)
(
From Heath's ‘Northern Looking-Glass
,’ 1825)
The Quadrille.—Figure 3: La Poule (
From Heath's ‘Northern Looking-Glass
,’ 1825)
The Quadrille.—Figure 4: La Trénise (
From Heath's ‘Northern Looking-Glass
,’ 1825)
The last has many variations, either with a chassé-croisé, or with ‘la boulangère,’ ‘la corbeille,’ ‘le moulinet,’ or ‘la
The American form of the quadrille is very recent, and rather too lively for general use in drawing rooms. Its variations are according to the caprice of fashion.
The figures are—(1) La promenade; (2) les moulinets; (3) les chevaux de bois; (4) la passe; (5) la corbeille.
A celebrated quadrille was that organised by Madame de Genlis in the drawing-room of Madame de Crenay, who, in spite of being very stout, was an enthusiastic dancer. During the eighteenth century people in France delighted in proverbs. They were the rage of fashion, and no festival or party was held without them. The quadrille arranged by Madame de Genlis
The Quadrille.—Figure 5: La finale
(
From Heath's ‘Northern Looking-Glass
,’ 1825)
Musard, a celebrated and talented musician of fifty years ago, and the leader of the orchestra in the Paris Opéra, reformed the quadrille from a musical point of view, and freed it from its vulgar and often ‘banal’ character. When the true artist appears on the scene he regenerates, and gives a new value to things which before were only of secondary interest. Musard did this for the quadrille. After him, unfortunately, it again fell into inartistic hands.
This dance, in which nowadays so many people look bored, can be seen to greatest advantage in a very large hall like that of the Opéra. A wonderful collection of quadrilles, compiled at the time when there was a perfect mania for new arrangements, is the collection known as ‘Stabat Mater Quadrilles,’ arranged on Rossini's great work.
The inhabitants of Roussillon are passionately fond of dancing, and have some dances peculiar to themselves. The men generally begin a country dance by a contre-pas, the air of which is said to be of Greek origin; the women then mingle in the dance, when they jointly perform several figures, passing one among the other, and occasionally turning each other round. At a particular change in the air the male dancer must dexterously raise his partner and place her on his hand in a sitting posture. Accidents sometimes happen upon these occasions, and the lady falls to the ground, amidst the jokes and laughter of her companions. One of these dances, called
lo salt
,
Probably the
Salta of Queen Elizabeth.
The orchestra which accompanies these dances consists of lo flaviol, a sort of flageolet, a drum, two hautboys, prima and tenor, and the cornemuse, called in the country
lo gratta
. This instrument, by its description, must somewhat resemble the bagpipes. The dance called
Segadilles
is performed with the
The
Carmagnole
, which is said to derive its name from a small town in Piedmont taken by the French, became a sort of revolutionary ‘ronde,’ danced by the populace in 1792.fédérés
of Marseilles played such an important part. These
fédérés
wore a vest known as the ‘carmagnole,’ from which costume the name of the dance doubtless comes. In the ballad Marie Antoinette is called ‘Madame Véto.’ The verses were gradually added by the populace, according to the political events.
As Carmagnola was only taken by the French in 1796, the above derivation cannot be correct.
Le Chant de la Carmagnole
The dance has been truly described by Dickens in his ‘Tale of Two Cities,’ where he calls it ‘fallen sport.’ The
Carmagnole
was an immense ‘ronde’ which people sang while they danced; at first they turned slowly, stamping their feet, then after the refrain they went faster and faster.
It seems at first sight extraordinary that a people who for three centuries led the fashion in Europe, and who invented the stately
Menuet
, should also have been the inventors of the
Carmagnole
Cancan
.
In 1883 two new verses, said to have been composed by the Nihilist Prince Kropotkin, were added to the
Carmagnole:
Au jour de la Révolution
Tousles moyens nous serons bons (bis) &c.
But the dances of a country truly portray the character of its people, and France has always been a country of caprice and contrast. The highly gifted, cultured Parisians sank to the lowest depths in the Days of Terror, when the
Carmagnole
meant a signal for wholesale murder and incredible atrocities. It may not be out of place to make a distinction here between Paris and France. Paris is accused of many evils, but we must remember that it is the meeting-place of pleasure-seekers from all parts of the world, and is therefore cosmopolitan in character. The
Cancan
may be called a Parisian dance, but it is not a French dance, and is performed as much for the benefit (?) of travellers through the metropolis as for that of the Parisians. The word itself relates, I believe, to the waddling movements of a duck. The dance is the offspring of the
chahut
, a dance about which some curious details are given in a little book by Lépitre, written in 1844.
About 1830, a stage dancer called Mazarié played the part of a monkey in the Théâtre de la Porte St.-Martin. He invented for the occasion a figure-dance which he called ‘chahut,’ which surpassed in its extravagance the wildest movements of the Hottentots. Though forbidden by Government (perhaps
because
it was forbidden), it was introduced into all public balls, and Government inspectors were appointed, whose
Plato in early times expressed his opinion that all unseemly should be banished from well-ordered States. Unfortunately, censors and moralists have no influence over matters which are the result of spontaneous feeling. It is highly to be deplored that the spontaneous promptings of the cultured Parisians, the Athenians of to-day, should translate themselves into an imitation of the antics of a monkey, as such performances will conduce to the degeneracy of the art of dancing. Such ugly and vulgar forms of the art can only be eradicated by discountenancing them altogether, for they live solely by the applause they receive, and will soon die out if ignored. It is to be regretted that British and Germans and others who sermonise so strongly on the evils of the
Cancan
should give the sanction of their presence to its performance.
The oldest French Dance Tune
An
interesting and detailed work on the dance in Germany has been written in German by Boehme, to whom I am indebted for many of my facts, and to this authority I would refer the reader for more minute accounts of German dances, above all for a rare collection of ancient and modern dance tunes. When I first read Mr. Boehme's book I almost thought of giving up the compilation of the present volume, for the German author says that he has been for over twenty years collecting his material on the dance in Germany; I thought that, at the same rate, even if I reached the age of Methuselah, I could not finish my description of the dances of all nations and of all ages ! Still, I found (although the present volume has entailed considerable labour, and though I am fully aware of its incompleteness and of my many shortcomings) that a general knowledge of simplifies the task, for history repeats itself over and over again.
The dance, like the love story, like the poem, like the folk-song, and like the legend, changes according to time and period in form, though the substance is often the same; it may be compared to a musical theme played in different keys and in different ways. In Germany, as elsewhere, this was the case.
The sons of ancient Germania were essentially warriors, and their early dances, described by Tacitus and Olaus Magnus, were warlike evolutions with sword and spear We read how
Ufinale
of the dance. They jumped through hoops, had bells on their ankles, and the leader of the dance was called king. We now associate the sword dance mostly with the Highlands of Scotland, and in the chapter on Scottish dances it has been further described.
In Germania the ancient dances were sacrificial rites; during their performance priests and priestesses prayed and prophesied, and thus became the leaders of the sacred chorus. The singing was generally assigned to the women.
The New Year was a great occasion for pageants and processions, especially in honour of the goddess Hertha (the Earth), and youths and maidens with dance and song were wont to go and gather the mistletoe, just as in the Celtic cult of Britanny, where young people ran about crying, ‘Au Gui l'an neuf,’ and, so to say, ‘danced the New Year in.’
BALL GIVEN BY ALBRECHT IV…GRAND DUKE OF BAVARIA
(
From an Engraving by Martin Zatzinger, dated 1500
)
In Germany the harvest festivals called for the dance. A patch of cornfield was left uncut, and round it the husbandmen would carol, chanting ‘Wode-wode.’
More than elsewhere, funeral dances were prevalent in Germania, either in connection with the song of lament, and as an exorcism of the evil spirits, or as a natural accompaniment and sequel to the feasts held at funerals, even in Christian times. The incantation dance was forbidden by the Church in the ninth century, but at first these ceremonies were quite reverent and were merely symbolic. In 1271, in Appenzell, the procession which accompanied the Abbot Berthold of St. Gall to his last resting-place danced the whole way home. I have also read that among the ancient customs of the Jews of Germany there was an obligation for maidens returning from a funeral to dance as they journeyed back.
Germany is a land rich in folklore, in fairy tales and legends, and in many of these the dance is prominent. The ancient Teuton believed that all Nature was divine music and dance. As we wander to-day through the dark woods of Thuringia or Suabia, can we not imagine the ells ‘and nixies’ gambols round the ancestral oak-trees; or, as we sail in a boat over the green waves of the Baltic, do we not seem to hear the mermaids singing as they bound on the rocky shore?
The German Saga also admits that giants dance, but they are never merry, and foot it invariably to a sad, weird melody. The oldest poetry of every nation is in connection with the dance. There is no dance without its song, and the dance-song preceded the epic. In Germany a song accompanied by a dance was called ‘Leiche.’
The introduction of Christianity into Germany, which was chiefly due to apostles and missionaries from British shores, modified the dance, together with other pagan rites; but, wisely advised, the teachers of the new faith did not Suddenly exact the total repression of ancient customs. Thus, the same dances were performed at Christian festivals as at pagan
U 2
There exists a Latin poem, written in 1000 A.D., which describes an old German dance, and Dr. Holland thinks that this very dance is still in use on the banks of the Tegern See at the feast day of St. Bartholomew, and it is called the ‘Schuhplatteln.’ From the Minnesingers we can learn much about the old dances of Germany. As they carolled their lively tunes and welcomed spring in glad accents, they merrily trod the May-measures; noblemen and boors, craftsmen and soldiers, would join the songsters under the lime-tree found in the centre of every village, and they would bound in glee, take a maid by the hand, and go with her through the mazy dance—a dance as old as the country, as old as love, and one which will remain popular as long as youths woo maidens. Hans Sachs has left us wonderful accounts of some of these dances, among others, of the
Schönpart
, a carnival dance of Nürnberg. He begins:
Es füinfzehnhundert Jahr
Und neun und dreissig war
Am Montag vor Fastnacht
Als ich gen Nürnberg bracht
Etlich Waar zu verkaufen.
This
Schöpart
was an annual dance special to the old Gothic city, and Hans Sachs describes it so minutely that we could reproduce it to-day without the slightest difficulty.
From the thirteenth century to the sixteenth, epic poems mention a whole wealth of dances. German society was rigorously divided into distinct classes. There was the nobility, the gentry, the peasantry, and the handicraftsmen, and each had their own dances as well as their own costumes prescribed by law. There were two distinct kinds of dances; just as in France there were the
THE PRODIGAL SONCarole
and
Espringale (danse basse
and
danse haute
), so in Germany there was the circular dance and the measure. The first was jumpy, performed in street or field,
(
After Karel van Mander
Dancing manners in those times differed much from ours; for instance, when a nobleman wished to invite a high-born damsel to tread a measure with him, he bounded towards the seat where she was resting, or rushed along the polished floor with a gliding step, as if he were skating towards her, thus expressing his keen desire to be the first to ask the favour. This is surely a great contrast to the languid way in which the dancer of our modern ball-room invites his partner with a victimised air. Another curious custom was that after the conclusion of the dance in Germany the lady conducted her partner to a seat and invited another man. In mediæval Germany the art of flirtation was not unknown; but at bails it took a different form from those to which we are accustomed; thus, to tread on the train of a lady's dress was considered a great
privilege
, and if the knight who availed himself of it was handsome and brave, the blonde lady would smile and affect airs and graces. Women were led to the dance by the hand, often by the sleeve, and sometimes the partners went through their evolutions by merely crossing the two forefingers; this is plainly shown in the accompanying illustration.
The peasants danced under the village Linden, in the field, and especially in the street, and theirs were generally the circular jumping forms. It cannot be denied that the manners of those days were coarse and licentious, but so was the language and the life generally. Writings condemning the pastime of the dance as sinful and harmful abounded then in Germany.
In the tenth century we find that concluded the Sixteenth-century Peasants' Dance in Germany The Ring Dance in Germany, fifteenth century
(
Fro an Engraving by F. Brunn
)
(
From an Engraving by Israhel van Meckenen
)
Every guild in Germany had its dances. Such is the
Schäfflertanz
of Munich, performed by coopers, and probably originating in the bow and hoop dance already spoken of. It takes place every seven years and always during the first year
Und als sie nun getrunken hatten
Begehrten sie einen Tanz;
Da tanzten alle neunzig
Schneider neunmal neunzig
Auf einem Ziegenschwanz.
The carpenters danced on Ash Wednesday in Nürnberg; first these dances took place in the street, then in the town hall, afterwards every small town had its special dance-house, and great luxury was displayed on these occasions. Beautiful figures of Moorish dancers were discovered by Schwanthaler in the dancing-room of the old Town Hall of Munich, and Herkomer has the casts of these statues. With the dance in Germany is also connected superstition. In Würtemberg it is considered a good omen if, during the wedding dance, no mistake is made and no interruption occurs; but if anyone stumbles or drops anything it is considered a sign of bad luck for the wedded couple.
Dancing as a feudal obligation was usual in Germany. At Langenberg the custom still survives. On Whit Tuesday every peasant must lead out a partner, and in good or fair weather,
nolens volens, must
dance under penalty of a fine; and the dance must continue as long as the barrel which is brought under the village lime-tree for the occasion contains one single glass of beer. It is said that the Emperor Heinrich der Vogler, passing through Langenberg on a Whit Tuesday, asked for a relay of horses, but the Langenbergers were too busy with their gambols round the lime-tree to heed their sovereign's wants. They refused to interrupt their sport, and, to punish them, the Emperor ordered that every year, under all circumstances, the
Frohntanz
was to be performed at Langenberg.
The
Siebensprung
, another dance still in use, must be a difficult performance. The music is in 24 time, and at given intervals the male dancer has to make seven different movements,
Peasants dancing in Germany
(
From an Engraving after Cornélis Bega, about 1645
)
At weddings it is still, in some parts of Germany (Schlesien and Brandenburg), customary to perform the Death dance. The name sounds gruesome, but it is a merry sport, in which kissing is not forgotten. A dancer assumes the part of a
Todtentanz
(
from Boehme, by permission of Messrs Breitkopt & Haertel, Leipsig
)
But the most important dance of Germany is the waltz. In spite of French or Italian claims, so well rediculed by THE WALTZ
Endearing waltz! to thy more melting tune
Bow Irish jig and ancient rigadoon.
Scotch reels avaunt! and country-dance forego
Your future claims to each fantastic toe!
Waltz, waltz alone both legs and arms demands,
Liberal of feet and lavish of her hands.
It will ever remain as an ideal dance if well performed with all due grace and inspired by the emotion caused by the music.
This duet dance was originally called Dreher (turner), and the very word waltz means turning. The first waltz tune appeared in 1670 in a popular song, ‘O du lieber Augustin;’ but it was 1812 before it made its appearance in England, where it met with strong opposition. The caricatures of the period truly picture the feeling against the ‘insidious waltz’—‘this imp of Germany brought up in France;’ and Byron justly laughed. at the early English waltz compositions, for they were very poor. Weber did much for the waltz; in his ‘Invitation à la Valse’ we have a perfect model, for the dance was never intended to be a fast one. About forty years ago Weber's composition was the favourite waltz tune played in the ballrooms of France and Belgium. Schubert has given us beautiful waltzes, and in his airs he expresses faithfully the true character of the dance, which is made of keen enjoyment, tinged here and there with melancholy. But Vienna's son, Strauss, is the real composer of waltzes; his airs are so ‘dancing’ that few can resist the spell, and he varies his melody wonderfully to the rhythm.
Some writers argue that the waltz came from the
Allemande
, but a superficial inquiry will prove that this is erroneous. The Allemande was a mediæval German dance, introduced about 1600 in France, Spain, and England. Here it was called
Almain
; in France it went under the name of
Allemande française
. It
Allemande
(
From an Engraving after C. Brandoin, 1772
)
Besides Boehme's work on the German dance, it is fair to acknowledge the accounts given by Voss and by Czerwinski
Holland adopted many foreign dance measures, especially those which remained from the Spanish dominion. The
STATE BALL AT AMSTERDAM, 1768 The Egg Dance in Holland (
Plugge-dansen
is a kind of
fandango
. The egg dance, of which an illustration is here given, is very curious. The same form was usual in England, and there are many points of resemblance
(
From an Engraving by R. Vinkeles
)matelot
dance not unlike our hornpipe; it is, however, performed with clogs, and instead of the sailor's arms
From an Engraving after Theodor de Bry, 1611
)Czar and Zimmermann
a good musical example is given of the
matelot
.
Ballet des Matelots. Der Schifferknechte Dantz
(
From Boehme, by permission of Messrs Breitkopf & Haertel, Leipsig
)
The painters and engravers of Holland have left us numerous dance representations, either of the popular kind usual at the Kermesses, or of the great State dances. Biblical dances also were a favourite subject. Art was highly developed in Holland, and was not only the result of genius; for it owed much to the wealth of the land in which it found a shelter while Italy was busy with her internal quarrels, while Germany tried to profit by these quarrels, while France spent much of her energy on wars, civil and foreign, while Spain sent out her sons to the gold mines, and while Britain was busy with the establishment of her commercial position. We, therefore, have many pictures of European dance forms due to Dutch artists.
In Belgium we find mostly
rondes
, connected with festivals, and old dance-songs. In the Walloon country the
Cramignon
is a characteristic form; it is a kind of farandole—e.g, a sort of chain dance accompanied by a song, idyllic or satirical.
Chanson D'cramignon
allegretto
SWORD DANCE OF VIKINGS ROUND THE SACRED HORNS, CIRCA 900
Of the Scandinavian dances those of Faroê are the most important. Their dance-songs are so long that one often fills the evening. At weddings, Danish songs are given, and, like the Walloon ones, they are sometimes ironical. The is often accompanied by the harp, but a song is indispensable, and the movements are not jumpy and rough, but measured and in a circular figure. In the Sagas we read much about the old
Reihen
, and especially about the weapon dances. There is an interesting account of a Swedish religious dance in honour of Thor, during which the drinking horns, sacred to the god, were brought in. The Vikings danced thus at marriage feasts, and it is related that the music was so enlivening that the Saga was recited with such wonderful accents that warriors and guests were compelled to rise from their seats and dance in a processional step, forming a hexagon with their swords. Mr. Percy Macquoid has drawn here a picture which strikingly represents this quaint ceremony. In heroic dances the step would be a leap. In Faroê the national music is fine, and
The dances of Sweden are lively, and in some measure they are a dramatic representation of love and courtship. They are called
Polska
, and, though this may sound Polish, are essentially national. Over four hundred varieties exist. The sword dances were taught at the same time as fencing, and the ecclesiastics took part in them and also led the wedding dance. Up to this century ministers in their gowns would share the innocent amusements of their congregation.
Norwegian Dance
Schwedischer Bauerntanz Aus Upland
(
from Boehme, by permission of Messrs. Breilkopf & Haertel, Leipsig
)
Vivace
NORWEGIAN DANCE
(
After A. Tidemand
)
In the Sturlungasaga, a strophe of an ancient Northern dance-song is preserved, and the old Siegfriedslied in Faroê was sung to a dance. Iceland has a national dance called the
Vikivaka
; it is similar to the Faroê amusements, but, properly speaking, the
Vikivaka
is a song accompanied by any dance movements. The
Hringbrot
is another Icelandic dance, somewhat similar to the polonaise. Ten or more men form a chain, and the first go under the arched arms of the last, and the rest follow without loosening hands.
The Lapps dance to heroic songs, ending their performance with a vehement lamentation at not being able to follow in the glorious footsteps of their ancestors. They still perform the ancient Scandinavian sword dance.
X
In
the account of the dances of Spain, we will see that geographical divisions mark divisions in the character of the inhabitants and of their music and dances. Portugal is closely allied to Spain by its geographical position and by the common origin of the race, so we may expect in some respects to find the two countries resembling each other in their dances also. But as North Spain differs from South Spain, so does Portugal differ from her sister country; and, moreover, Portugal is not one province, but a group of provinces, each one of which has to some extent dances and dance-music peculiar to itself. The position of the dance in Portugal represents the position of the race, neither northern nor southern, but a mixture of both, with a decided flavour of the east, received from the Arabs.
In this south-western corner of Europe we find many remains of old Moorish civilisation, and the traces of Saracen culture are greater in Portugal than even in Southern Spain; it is stated that the Saracens taught the Portuguese Cymons ‘all the sweet civilities of life,’ and among these the dance was prominent. These dances are said not to be specially graceful; they are slow in movement, and similar to Oriental dances, reminding us of the East because they consist mostly of movements of the body and arms, and because they have no steps worth mentioning. They are simple and expressive, and are often performed as a rest after labour; the
The dances are generally innocent and decorous; they resemble quadrilles, with hops and skips, but without much spirit, and the faces of the performers maintain a solemn gravity. Castanets are seldom used in Portugal, and the dance is accompanied by the guitar, or by songs, the theme of which is usually the bright-eyed maids or the brave sons of Lusitania. The dress is very picturesque; the women wear huge hats ornamented with flowers and ribbons, a bright scarf round their shoulders, large ear-rings, and many gold chains on their necks. They generally arrive on horseback or on a mule, and wear in their hats a picture of the saint in whose honour the merry-making is held. There are many of these festivals, called Romarias, and on these occasions, according to a traveller, there is ‘ a small amount of praying, a good deal of eating and drinking, and a vast amount of and singing.’ The name of the principal dance of a Romaria is the
Fofa
.
Portugal is famous for its
Ballets Ambulatoires
, which are religious processions with dances, in imitation of the Tuscan pomp, and such as we meet with all over Italy. The canonisation
X 2Fado
.
Portugal really consists of two distinct parts—the north is Celtic in character, the south is Arab.
The dancing customs go back to the greatest antiquity, and we cannot trace them far enough in their course, but we know that the race of the peninsula called Euskariana, which Humboldt calls Iberian and which preceded the Aryans in Europe, has left rites in Portugal such as the
Ululate
to which Silio Italico refers: the
Renchilido
or the
Apupo
of the Mintro.
The Arab dance
Lambra
is also called
Mourisca
, and the Portuguese poets often write about the
Mourisca
.
The Portuguese dances are influenced by the position of the country; they are often immodest, originating from the Arabs or from African possessions, like the
Fados
and the
Batuques
, received from the Brazilian colonies.
In the Cancionéiro Portuguez da Vaticana documents about the dances usual in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries abound, and the songs which accompanied these dances gave their name to a certain kind of lyrics—i.e,
baylata
or
balada
.
In the ceremonies usual on conferring knighthood fights with the Moors were simulated, and thus the kind called
Mourisca
(the English Morris dance) was originated. In the Azores it is still preserved under a dramatic form called
Mouriscadas
. Fernaão Lopes, describing the character of King Pedro I., says of him that he was a great votary of the dance. Dances such as the
Baixa, Chacola, Mourisca
, and
Villão
were usual at all Court weddings in the sixteenth century. The
Baixa
is a special kind which includes other dances. Religious festivals gave most opportunity for the dance.
The Spanish dominion in Portugal, 1580–1640, propagated in Portugal a great number of dances which still are common. was a monomania with Philip III. of Spain and Portugal, and his prime minister, who also became a cardinal, distinguished himself as the best dancer of his time. TheTourdion
, for example, was called
Esturdia
, &c.
Xacaras
were also danced, and were what Cervantes called
Danzas habladas
. The
Sarabanda
was introduced from Spain in 1586, and the
Alleman
from Germany: Lope de Vega mentions it in his
Dorotea
.
The dances of the eighteenth century were very free. The
Fofa
, a kind of national dance performed by couples with guitar accompaniment or other instruments, was of a specially indecorous character, which must be attributed to African or Brazilian influences.
In the Azores, at the feast of the Espirito Santo dances are held (
Charambas
and
Sapateados
); in spite of restrictions these customs have not wholly died out. A person represented the Imperador, with two kings, four pages, all the nobility and the populace, and thus entered the church. Crowns were put on the altar and a priest crowned the three monarchs. The Imperador was accompanied by two girls who danced a
Prestilo
, and who afterwards received a dowry from him. The Imperador turned to the church and offered his crown on another altar, where another priest handed it back to him. Then he sat on a throne and before him were danced
Folias
and
Bailes
by nobles and plebeians.
The feast of St. John in the old town of Pedrogam-Penhesio was celebrated by a Mouriscan dance like the English Morris, but concluding with genuflexions to the saint as a farewell, and shouting ‘Viva, meu compadre S. João Baptista ! ’
To jump through fires is a custom at the St. John festivals nearly everywhere; in Portugal and in the Azores it is kept up and called Fogueiras de S. João. We have also seen that at the times of great epidemics and sorrow, dances have been in favour in most countries, partly to afford people aDansa de Donzellas
, performed by eight little girls under ten, beautifully dressed, parading through the streets to the sound of lute, and occasionally stopping their procession in order to perform a little play in allusion to conversion and baptism. The
Dansas dos Mariyos, dos Espingardeiros, dos Pratos
, formed part of the other autos, and may, in fact, be regarded as the foundation of the popular Portuguese drama.
Unhappily to-day Portugal, principally in the towns, is fast losing its original character; its foreign colonisation, its position on the sea-coast causing great mingling with aliens, above all Gallomania, have altered its picturesque colouring. In contrast with the Spaniard, who still clings to his old traditions and customs, the Portuguese is at present more Parisian than Iberian. We can but think regretfully of olden times, of times when, according to the Portuguese ‘Froissart,’ Fernão Lopes, the King Dom Pedro I., mad with sorrow at the loss of his beloved wife Inez de Castro, sleepless with gnawing pains of his bereavement, would in the middle of the night order a troop of soldiers to form a hedge from his palace and hold lighted torches, so that in the moonlight he might dance between them, and thus give bodily expression to the Vehemence of his grief.
The Basques have a great number of dances. In their country holidays are made festive with dance, song, and ‘pelota’ (ball). The dances, which are Salic and of a strange character, are so numerous that we can only describe two: or three. One of the most famous is the
Pordon Dantza
or Lance dance, which varies from a slow and languishing time
Pordon Dantza
But it would be impossible to make a catalogue of all the Basque dances; they would fill a book, and indeed have filled one, a book written by Don Ignacio de Yzueta, and accessible to all who are familiar with the Basque language.
The Basques of to-day are conservative to a high degree, clinging fast to old observances and old superstitions. It is certain that in the province of Guipuzcoa occupies, and has occupied for many years, a considerable part of both public and private life, and the municipal sessions are even now opened with a dance. The
Edate, edo carrica dantza
, is held on feast days or other solemn occasions, when the inhabitants dance under the paternal eye of the local authorities, the dignitaries of the neighbourhood appearing with their ladies. Only the Alcalde has power to order the performance of this dance. Mr. Stephens describes such a scene in the little village of Yuretta on a Sunday afternoon. The signal for the sport is given by the Alcalde, who sticks a silver-headed javelin of very antique workmanship into the ground at one corner of the Plaza in front of the church. This brings out a drummer and another man with pipe and tabor, who together begin a slow but strongly accentuated martial measure. Mr. Stephens describes the Alcalde whom he saw as ‘a very imposing personage, tall, thin, and sedate, adorned with a comical brown night-ca[ turned up with brown velvet, a loose brown spencer which would have held another Alcalde, brown knee-breeches and
The
Mutchíco
, or
Saut Basque
, of the French Basque provinces, is held during winter nights in large kitchens or on threshing-floors. While the women are engaged in spinning the thread and wool, any jovial old man suddenly gives a loud ‘Houp,’ claps his hands and proceeds to sing the national air. Then two sticks are placed on the ground in the form of a cross, and the dancer—one of the young men—pirouettes in one or other of the angles of the cross, keeping up with the ever-increasing speed of the music. When the singer stops his
Basque dances may be called the earliest survivals of the art in Europe, and one of the most ancient of them is the
Zorzico
, which, from its public nature, somewhat resembles the
Edate
already mentioned. It is a complicated dance, very characteristic, with a curious five-time rhythm; it is also called
Auresca
, from the name given to the leading dancer, or sometimes St. Sebastian, from the town where it is most frequently performed. It is generally danced in the open fields or public squares. On feast days the ceremonies are as follows. First of all, the municipality goes in a body to the parish church of St. Sebastian to hear mass. Then follows the celebrated
Juego de Pelota
, the old game of tennis, in which the Basques are so proficient that one of the kings of England sent for a Basque player to teach the game. The next part of the entertainment is the
Zorzico
. The Alcalde regulates this dance, sitting on a wooden bench with the other village grandees. The dance is opened by the young bachelors, then come the girls, then the married men, and lastly the married women, if they wish or are allowed to dance. The performance lasts for hours. The young men hold each other by the hand in a circle round the bench; then the leader leaves his companions, throws his cap on the ground, and bows to the authorities, pirouetting and prancing about. The Alcalde gravely returns the bow, and the onlookers clap enthusiastically, after which the dancer returns to the circle. Then the young men form in line, there ensues a long walk through the square, and the leader once more dances alone, taking rest occasionally: if he wishes to confer honour on a
Suddenly the drums beat, two young men leave the chain, and go and invite a girl who has been chosen specially for them by the Alcalde, who holds a paper containing a list so that no one may be disappointed. The women of Guipuzcoa never seem to rebel at this arrangement, and the elected girl meekly follows the two envoys, who caper about with her twice round the plaza, while the Coryphæus continues his evolutions by himself Then the maiden is presented to him, and he salutes her by throwing his cap at her feet, as he had previously saluted the Alcalde. He dances before her frantically, she maintaining a solemn countenance all the time: he, too, then becomes earnest, and does not make a single gesticulation, so that, in this respect, the dance somewhat resembles an English hornpipe, while in the gravity of the figures, the simplicity of the rhythm and the solemnity of the dancer's demeanour, it partakes of the characteristics of the French minuet. After this, the girl takes her place in the chain to the left of her partner and everyone faces round. It is then the turn of the last of the file, called Atzescu, to lead. When all the young people are paired, the orchestra strikes up a livelier tune, and the whole square is suddenly invaded by the spectators, who all take part in the dance, down to the very children: the figure is now similar to the Jota of Aragon. The dancers stand opposite to one another, and snap their fingers instead of castanets, while they balance rhythmically. The last figure is called’ Arin, arin ! (quicker, quicker), a rapid whirl like a galop, but never at all confused, however fast the time may be. The
Zorzico
, sometimes called
Torcico
, lasts about twenty minutes. A man keeps order during the ‘performance, with a little stick or whip with which he beats away troublesome dogs or too inquisitive lads. Authority is represented by a javelin, iron wand, or even goldheaded stick stuck in the ground before the bench. Even if this latter is empty, order is well maintained before this symbol of municipality. As soon as the first bell of the Angelus is
On great feast days the
Zorzico
is held again in the evening after dinner, when a large fire is lighted in the centre of the square to throw light on the dancers. It is the duty of the Alguazil to throw dry wood on this and keep it burning brightly. Then, too, a military band tries to replace the primitive orchestra, but the ‘tamborileros’ view with the players, and the dancers only listen to their beloved national music. A Basque orchestra consists of but two instruments—the fife and drum. The same musician performs on both at one and the same time, holding the fife with his left hand and with his right beating the drum which he carries suspended round his neck. This singular harmony is rather barbarous, but one gets to like it, and the Basques think there is no music equal to it. The performer is called ‘tambilero,’ and every village has its salaried musician. His skill consists in remembering ancient airs, such as the Cantabrian March, the
Espata Danza
, and the Loyola March.
The
Zorzico
, though of very ancient origin, has been somewhat altered in the course of time. But it still retains its ancient simplicity, and is so decorous that there was a certain vicar of Bilbao who insisted on all his congregation taking part in the dance.
Of other dances we may mention the
Espata Danza
, which was performed by a hundred men in 1660 before Philip IV., in the Corpus procession at St. Sebastian; the
Mizpirotza
, a dance performed by moonlight, and set to music by Haydn; and the
Pantalon
, an ancient dance belonging to St. Pé (Hautes Pyrénées) and probably of Basque origin; as also the
Carrica
, a street dance. The above will give an idea of the number and variety of Basque dances, and the accounts of some of them, such as the
Zorzico
or the
Edate
, show their immense popularity. Indeed Le Pays, writing about the Basque provinces, says that a child of these parts can dance before it can say
It is difficult to describe the general character of the Basque dances. One should see them performed by the seashore or at the foot of great mountains, hear the forest echo repeat the refrain of the song, to the accompaniment of the tinkling cattle-bells, or the hollow murmur of the surf as it breaks on the shore.
Take up at random any book of travels in Spain, even the merest guide-book, and you will probably find in it a description of the dances of the Peninsula. To the student of Spanish literature there is a wider field for reference, in the works of Lope de Vega, and especially Cervantes; and the latter truly weighs the importance of the art in his country when he says, ‘There ne'er was born a Spanish woman yet, but she was born to dance.’ No doubt the author of ‘Don Quixote’ was himself a lover of the dance, for he uses charming expressions with regard to it. He says, for instance, of a dear little girl, ‘She dances like thought.’
Everyone dances in Spain, and everywhere the dance is seen—in streets or on mountains; in courts or by gutters; in squares or narrowlanes; in Churches or theatres; by sunlight, by moonlight, by candlelight. It belongs essentially to the country, like the rocks and orange groves and vineyards. There is little exaggeration in the traveller's assertion that, if at any moment one entered a church or law-court of Spain, playing a fandango, those present would forget theirBolero
, quite unaware of his own performance. Spain is the true home of the dance. Here everyone dances naturally, it comes as easily as the very life-breath; there is nothing taught, nothing artificial, nothing that speaks of difficulties overcome to the senses of the spectator. The bodies of the native dancers are as flexible as reeds. They move with the ease of birds; they dance as the sunbeams dance amidst the sweet-scented acacias, as the wave dances on the green plain of the ocean. Cervantes expresses my feeling most truly when he sums up the dances of the Spanish as ‘ the bounding of the soul, the bursting of laughter, the restlessness of the body, and the quicksilver of the five senses.’ There is nothing indecorous in this dance, because it is entirely devoid of affectation, and because there is always present a certain dignity, no matter how brisk the measure. It never tires, but rather it rests spectator and performer alike.
The dance in Spain is an unchanged pastime of antiquity, and in speaking of it I feel constantly inclined to quote Martial and Juvenal. The performances of Cadiz-girls are often described by Roman authors. At that time, as to-day,
Betica
, now Andalusia, was the classic home of the art. In spite of all the invectives hurled against women dancers, we know that in Rome men forgot their cares—consuls, pro-consuls, and wise senators forgot their meals even—when their hearts were held captive by the foreign sirens. Did not Pliny's friend, Claro, leave his olives and his tunny in order to go and applaud the Gaditanian dance? These dances, performed especially to gratify luxurious Rome, were forbidden on the advent of Christianity.
But the dance was a passion too deeply rooted in the Spanish nature: prohibitive measures availed nothing. Even during the terrible Inquisition priests, Friar Marti of Alicante
There are in Spain traces of the old Pyrrhic dances of Greece. One of these, representing a battle between Christians and Moors, was one of the festivities at the wedding of Count Ramon Berenguer IV. with Queen Petronella of Aragon.
The Asturians have a very wild dance of this class, performed stick in hand, recalling the
Ghillie Callum
. It is said to be an exact revival of the dance performed by Hannibal at Gracchus's funeral. The change of the figures is accompanied by the shouts of the audience.
The
Danza Prima
of Asturia is traced in Spain back to the time of the Goths, but it is a survival of classic traditions. It was probably preserved in the Asturian mountains, where it took refuge during the domination of the Moors. It is a circular dance. Neither Goth nor Arab was able to obliterate the character of this sport of olden time.
The Catalans introduced into their Pyrrhic dance certain imps, who performed comic evolutions in order to relieve the grave character of the movements. They also revived in the twelfth century some cheironomic dances of Greece, performed by hunchbacks singing burlesque songs, carrying staves, to represent satyrs, vintners, gardeners, fishermen, and the like. These variations are in vogue up to the present day, especially in the town of Tarragona on the feast of Santa Tecla.
Among ancient native dances is that thirteenth-century one of Castile,
Bailes llanos ó tonadillas
, during which light verses were sung to the accompaniment of tambourines and castanets. Other dances were occasioned by pilgrimages, like that to the shrine of Sta Maria del Essar, in which men bent with old age, staff in hand, danced a
Paloléo
to the sound of a burlesque
And now, what Galician or Asturian, hearing the strains to the
Muñeyra
, or of the
Danza Prima
, will not throw off his fatigue, and rejoice ? while the native of Valladolid or of Salamanca, when he catches the sound of the tambourine or the large castanets of his country, will skip with joy; and the inhabitant of Murcia, harkening to the twang of the guitar as it preludes the Torras and Parrandas, will be profoundly moved. More enthusiastic than these, the Manchego, hearing the tune of the
Seguidillas
, will alight from his horse and tether it. But most emotional of all is the Andalusian. His excitement—when instruments or voice proclaim the Fandango, the Old, the Sevillanas, the Vito, and others—knows no bounds. Yet the Aragonese goes further than any, if his protestations in praise of the dance are good evidence; for he will gravely assure you that the
Jota
is capable of quickening the dead.
It seems impossible to describe these things; the sound and movement must be heard and seen. One must go to Xeres and see the
Jaleo
, to Malaga for the
Rondeña
, and the gravest and saddest will forget his gravity and sorrow. The spectacle of the dance, like the fiery wine of Spain, will make his heart merry, and the blood to course more quickly through his veins.
Countless are the
provincial
dances of Spain, but there are three which are
national
. They are the
Fandango
, the
Bolero
, and the Seguidillas; and of all the dances in the country the
Fandango
is the most important.
The word
Fandango
means ‘go and dance.’ The movements have been described by Buretti as a ‘regular and harmonious convulsion of all parts of the body.’ It is of extreme antiquity, and may be assumed to be the prototype of all Spanish dances. Marini, the modern Ovid, accurately described the
Fandango
as it was danced in his time, and Dr. Yriarte speaks of the ‘melodious fandango which charms the soul of natives and of strangers, of wise men and of old men.’
El Fandango
(
From a Print by Jean Victor Adam, about 1840
)
Danced by two people in slow 6/8 time, accompanied by castanets, the clicking of the wooden instruments, the song, the movement of feet and arms, all work together into a harmonious whole. Everything is life and motion in this dance, beginning tenderly and gently, and gradually reaching the highest pitch of exaltation. Every part of the body is alive. The feet stamp the time accents, in the absence of castanets the fingers and thumbs are snapped. When the first couple are tired, their
YFandango
played, recall to my mind the impatience of the Italian racehorses standing behind the rope which, being fixed across the street breast high, restrained them, and the velocity and eagerness with which they set off without riders the instant that barrier is removed.’
Possibly the
Fandango
was even known in ancient Rome, for Pliny writes in a letter: ‘Come to-night, we will sup together, we will drink excellent wine. The peacocks, the nightingales, the thrushes of Malta, the wild boar in Trojan fashion, nothing will be forgotten, and above all I will procure for you the diversion of the Spanish dance.’
There is a curious little story connected with the
Fandango
and related by the Chevalier Bourgoing, a traveller in 1700. It has given rise to ballads, comedies, and pictures called ‘The Trial of the
Fandango
.’
The Consistory Court of Rome was indignant that in such a very pious country as Spain so godless a dance as the
Fandango
should still be in vogue. The ecclesiastical authorities were going to condemn it when a judge remarked that it was not fair to censure what one did not know. Two celebrated dancers were sent for, accordingly, to perform the Fandango before the Court. They danced to such effect that everyone joined in, and the proposed condemnation of the dance was entirely forgotten.
The
Malagueña
shares with the
Fandango
the rank of the principal dance of Andalusia. It is sometimes called the Flamenco, a term which in Spain signifies gay and lively when applied to song or dance. It is said to have originated with the Spanish occupation of Flanders. Spanish soldiers who had been quartered in the Netherlands were styled Flamencos. When they returned to their native land it was usually with a full purse; generous entertainment and jollity followed as a matter of course.
The
EL BOLEROBolero
is shorter than the
Fandango
, and is comparatively
(
From a Print after T. F. Lewis
)Seguidillas
so wonderfully and lightly that he seemed to fly. The
Bolero
is performed to guitar and castanet accompaniment. The woman's part is very lively and diversified, and in no other dance do you see such a great Variety of arm movements. In all these Spanish dances the fulness of expression is amazing. Eyes and features emphasise the postures, and every human passion is thereby, depicted. It is therefore not astonishing, as we have remarked before, that unconsciously the spectator falls to imitating the performers.
Y 2
BOLERO
The
Boleras
is different from the
Bolero
, although the time is taken from the latter. It is generally used in the theatresBoleras
is rather a dance-song than a dance proper.
Some authorities assert that the
Bolero
is the outcome of the
Seguidillas
. Be that as it may, it is generally understood that when the
Bolero
or
Fandango
is danced in ballet form by eight people, it is called the
Seguidillas
.
In the
Seguidillas
the voice generally accompanies the dance and the women mark the rhythm with their heels—
taconeo
, a movement which adds a piquant effect. This is a quicker dance than the
Bolero
. A prelude on the guitar allows the pairs to group themselves in two files, with a space of three or four steps between them. On the fourth bar of the dance tune the movements begin simultaneously with song and a castanet accompaniment. On the ninth bar a pause is made, and the guitar plays alone. Then all change places and afterwards go through a solemn walk, dance again, and go back to their places. The third part of the
Seguidillas
is suddenly interrupted on the ninth bar. Tradition requires every performer to remain immovable, as if he were petrified, in the attitude in which the last beat has surprised him. This is the most interesting feature of the dance, and ‘Bien parado!’ (well stopped) is the exclamation which greets the successful dancer.
I wish I were able to describe the fairy-like charm of this dance, performed with all the suppleness, elegance, and harmony of the Andalusian. The best I can do is to refer the reader to the Venere Callipige of the Naples Museum. The model was a Cadiz dancing-girl.
The dance music of Spain is very quaint. Chorley relates of a blind singer engaged in a dance tune that not only was his feeling for accent in itself excellent and provocative, but it seemed incited and fed by the pungent sound of the strings and the thrum of the hand on the sounding board. ‘As an element in Spanish dance music,’ he continues, ‘the castanet is not to be overlooked, working as it does in magic
In the Spanish measures a certain dignity is maintained, however brisk may be the movement. When performed by dancers of a low class these dances may easily become coarse, as all dances which have traces of Oriental tendency will do. ‘In themselves the Saraband, the Fandango, and the Bolero are quite as beautiful as the Menuet or Polonaise.’ Spanish dance measures are peculiar again in their spasmodic character, their pauses and interruptions of rhythm.
In former times dances in Spain were divided into
Danzas
and
Bailes
. The first were grave, and belonged to the higher classes, the others were popular sports. If we go back still further to the Roman period of the Cadiz dancing-girls, we find their art divided into three parts:
Cheironomia
, or play of hands;
Halma
, or play of feet; and
Lactisma
, or jumps.
In the old
Danza
the feet only moved, the rest of the body was quite still and the arms were held in a fixed and determined position, such as ‘akimbo.’ The
Danzas
were often astronomical representations, imitating in their figures the course of the stars and planets. The music was played on lyres and flutes. Such dances may be said to correspond with the Greek Emmeleia. In contemporary Spain the word
Danza
implies a dance performance at public festivals, and ordinary dances are called
Bailes
.
The Valencians have peculiar sports for the display of strength and agility. One of these is the egg dance. A number of eggs are placed at short regular distances from each other on the ground, and the dancers step round and amongst them, seeming as though every moment they must crush them.Palotéo
, is danced with sticks in each hand; these are struck together instead of castanets. The strange part Of it is that, no matter how wild the movements, and how extraordinary the positions, all the dancers strike their sticks at the same moment in perfect time.
The
Gallega
is often performed in Madrid, but is seen to the best advantage in Galicia. The dancers take up their position back to back, feigning sulkiness; the music is sad and slow. As the measure gradually quickens, they keep time to it with ever quicker and quicker steps; and suddenly, as if fired by some electric spark, they dance away wildly clicking their castanets. The Galicians have many other dances, such as the
Muyñeira
, performed to the sound of the bagpipe. The
Sarao
is a Carnival game, dating from the sixteenth century. It is a lengthy dance, resembling the
Cotillon
in so far as it includes a number of figures, and may last a whole evening. It was given after a banquet, generally to amuse a Court. In some of the old examples of the
Sarao
, a king or queen was selected from among the dancers; this dignitary opened the ball and led the figures. Afterwards a
Bastonero
, literally a staff-bearer, a master of the ceremonies, was appointed to regulate the ball, choose the couples, and so on. Every
Sarao
opened and closed with a minuet.
Among the ancient pageants were the
Tarasca
, and the
Gigantones y los Enanos
(the giants and the dwarfs). The
Tarasca
is described among the ritual dances. The
Gigantones y los Enanos
is a very old pageant of Spain, described in 1609 by Cuevedo, as performed at Barcelona with enormous castanets. Herein was represented the slaying of Goliath by David. The same subject is still employed at the Corpus Christi festival, the allegorical idea of the victory of Christ over sin being suggested. There were representations also of David dancing before the Ark; but abuses crept into the practice, and these terrible emblematic scenes were forbidden. Still, only some few provinces took the prohibition seriously. Fuertes remarks that as late as 1837 he saw inTarasca
in which the travestied woman was called Ana Bolena. He saw the giants and dwarfs dance as well.
The dance constituted an important part in theatrical exhibitions in Spain, even in religious dramas. From the oldest histories we know that it was the favourite pastime of the rude inhabitants of the Peninsula. It was introduced on the stage on the slightest excuse. Even the words already quoted, ‘There ne'er was born a Spanish woman yet but she was born to dance,’ occurring in the drama ‘Gran Sultana,’ were illustrated immediately by dancers on the scene. Many theatrical dances were probably accompanied by words, and were what Cervantes called ‘recited dances.’
Such was the
Zarabandas
, sometimes spelt
Sarabanda
, a graceful dance traced to the twelfth century, which, according to Padre Mariana, received its name at Seville from a devil in a woman's form. These dances gave great scandal, and in 1621 they were modified. The name
Zarabanda
means noise, and is of Arabic-Moorish origin. It may well have been a survival of the licentious Greek
Cordax
.
Among other theatrical dances of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries were the
Chaconne
and the
Escarraman;
these, together with the Zorongo, are similar to the Zarabanda, which Cervantes' praise spread throughout Europe. The
Gallarda
, a merry dance with five steps—hence cinque-pas—and the
Pasacalle
, were of the same type.
Returning to the
Zarabanda
, which was originally danced by women only (whereas the
Chaconne
required the usual couple), we find stories gathered round its name. It is said that M. des Yveteaux, dying in Paris at the age of eighty, called for a saraband melody so that his soul might pass more easily away. And Cardinal Richelieu was supposed to have danced this
Zarabanda
with bells on his ankles in order to win the favour of Anne of Austria. As the original dance could not be dropped altogether, it was turned into the
Tonadillas
, and deprived of the objectionable features which worked more harm, as Padre Mariana said, than the plague itself. This dance was transformed,
In the Spanish theatre nothing causes more delight than the stage dancing. If the piece is tiresome, the audience languid and bored, it needs only the clang of the castanets to revive it as it were by a flash of lightning. An ungallant author has observed that at the first signal from the castanets the tongues of countless women are silenced—‘on n'écoute que le ballet.’
Generally a couple, Majo and Maja, take the floor. Gorgeously attired, they perform a pantomime love-story; and one feels that they dance for the mere pleasure of movement, from sheer necessity of motion, just as kids and lambs must skip and caper. But really their dance is an art, for we see in it order and proportion. The people take to the dance as a rest from their toil, the performance being no fatigue to them, but quite the reverse. A traveller has declared that even the dogs enjoy watching such a scene.
Unfortunately, at the present day, with the introduction into Spain of English beefsteaks, tea, French bonnets and face powder, poetic feeling among Spaniards is gradually dying out. The higher classes have a dislike to national dances. They have been told that these are African, not Spanish in origin, and when they are performed in the theatres, the fashionable part of the audience leave the house. Only the foreigners sit it out, together with the people of the lower orders, in whom it is always difficult to destroy the poetic element.
In Spain, as elsewhere, dances are not expressive of rejoicing only, but are also fitted for grave occasions. From the sixteenth century dances were joined to the
autos
, and Cardinal Ximenes revived at Toledo the ancient custom of dancing in the Church choir during Divine service. This custom is kept up nowadays at Seville, in the dance of
los Seises
, which is described in the chapter on ritual dances. Funerals and wakes also afford opportunities for the dance; the
Jota
,Jota
of Aragon corresponds with the ancient Carole, which in Chaucer's time meant a dance as well as a song. At the feast of La Virgen del Pilar, it is in great favour with the crowd which assembles in Saragossa from outlying parts. The verses in the improvised couplets are not always in true metre, the performers not being very particular. They make up for the loss of a syllable or two in one line by adding it to the next, or they clap their hands, twang the guitar string, or stamp their feet to cover the defect.
The Aragonese in their pride in the dance say that a pretty girl dancing the
Jota
sends an arrow into every heart by each one of her movements. Sometimes the couplets of the
Jota
indulge in a satirical vein; for example: ‘Your arms are so beautiful, they look like two sausages, like two sausages hanging in winter from the kitchen ceiling.’
We must not forget the Moorish element in Spain; a dance called after King Alfonso, and belonging to the tenth century is accompanied by a ballad of the same name.
The
Pavan
was a Spanish society dance, called the Great Dance, and it is supposed to have been invented by Ferdinand Cortez; but it is dealt with in the chapter on French dances.
Then there is the
Cachucha
, quite a modern dance, which was first brought into fashion by Fanny Elssler on the stage of the Paris Opéra, and many others which we must pass over in silence, such as the sword dance, the pathetic
Malagueña
, the
Jaleo
, the
Tirano
, the
Vito
, the
Habas Verdes
, and countless others, which take their names either from the place they come from, or from the first line of the accompanying song. The songs are mostly extempore, but the beautiful language and the poetic temperament of the Spanish lend themselves easily to spontaneous poetry. It is not, however, always of the highest order; for instance, the couplet quoted in Grove's ‘Dictionary of Music:’ ‘On Monday I fall in love; on Tuesday I say so; Wednesday I propose; Thursday I am accepted; on Friday I
Geographically speaking, the dances of Spain can be grouped in two categories, those of the north, which have many Basque characteristics, and those of the south, derived from Moorish influence. In Andalusia the dances are of a tender character; in Galicia they have more of a satirical vein. The Andalusians are flowery, somewhat Oriental in their imagery, more graceful than the Galicians, less epigrammatic, and more ideal; they are, on the whole, less practical, and their character shows itself in all their customs and pastimes. If in their poetry flowers play a prominent part, in their life they are no less important. A cigarette-maker of Seville would rather go without her breakfast than without a flower in her hair; the Andalusian will call his beloved Rosa or Jasmin. The Galician is more matter-of-fact, and thinks more of fruit than of flowers; the Galician factory girl certainly would not think of sacrificing her breakfast to provide a carnation for her belt. A Galician author commends them for this utilitarian spirit, and says it is more important that they should have roses in their cheeks than in their hair.
Modern civilisation owes a heavy debt to Italy. It has been the home of art and literature, and was the cradle of the Renaissance. To Italy then we turn in the history of dancing, and find that there the dance, after having fallen into disuse in consequence of corruption and of ecclesiastical edicts against it, had
its
renaissance, and blossomed forth once more in the
The Italian dances of the upper classes only attained their perfection when they passed into France, where they were much developed. They were called Danses Basses because they consisted in soft gliding movements, without jumping or skipping, and they were so grave and serious that they were performed to the accompaniment of psalms. Charles IX., King of France, preferred the air of Psalm 129 to all other dance-measures. And indeed the dance seems to have been well suited, both in performers and movements, to its solemn accompaniment; the performers, clad in their mantles and robes, carrying swords, and cap in hand, went through slow, grave evolutions, which in no way detracted from their stateliness and even the high dignitaries of the Church did not scorn to take part in the measures. Thus we find that the Cardinals of Narbonne and St. Séverin danced at the ball given by Louis XII. at Milan; the Cardinal Hercule d'Este was passionately fond of the amusement, and, as we shall see later on, all the fathers of the famous Council danced at Trent in 1562. The steps in those dances were mostly those of the Pavane, THE CARDINALS OF NARBONNE AND OF SAINT SÉVERIN DANCING A PAVANNE BEFORE LOUIS XII. AT MILAN, 1499
In Italy, poetry and music, and therefore dancing, have attained such a height of artistic development that small room is left for the introduction of popular forms, and there is little or no opportunity for spontaneity or originality. Now-a-days, one frequently hears the Italian working-man singing verses of Dante and Tasso at his labour, and this culture and taste must of necessity be prejudicial to popular productions. But during the seventeenth century dancing was quite an Italian art. Caroso wrote some books about it, in which he gave full directions for performing the dances of his time. They were still more or less a kind of ballet, and had not yet acquired the figures of our dances. The most important points in these sixteenth-century Italian dances are the
Riverenzas
or curtseys, of which three are described—
grave, minima
, and
semi-minima
. Then he has a whole article on the art of taking off the cap; and he concludes his instructions by saying that the main requisite in order to dance well, besides the necessary grace and agility, is the possession of a good ear for sound and time.
Many and various are the dances of Italy the names and some of the characteristics of which have come down to us; there are dances to suit all tastes, from the lively
Giga
to the stately
Passamezzo
, which is probably a variety of the
Pavan
, known in England as the ‘passing measure Pavin;’ from the ‘graceful and unique’
Tarantella
, to the
Monferrina
, a country dance belonging to Piedmont, or the
Bergamasca
, a rustic dance of great antiquity, which derives its name from Bergamo, a town in Lombardy, the city of Tasso and Donizetti. The dance takes its characteristics from the inhabitants of Bergamo; who are said to be egotistical and cunning, possessing in a high degree the faults and the virtues of the typical rustic. From this type has arisen the harlequin of modern pantomime—the buffoon of classical periods. But this dance, rusticBergomask
, and the late Signor Piatti, a native of Bergamo, arranged this dance (as well as the
Monferrina
) for 'cello and pianoforte Another ancient and very characteristic dance is the
Forlana
, belonging to the Venetian gondoliers. It is written in 6 8 time, and is performed by two dancers; who keep up a giddy whirl, sometimes giving imitations of rowing or pulling an oar. Then again there is the
Galliard
, the ‘merry dance Gagliarda,’ in two parts of twelve bars each; in 3 2, 3 3, or ¾ time, sometimes in 2 4 or common time. It was also used for singing. It was called by Prætorius ‘an invention of the devil,’ because it was very immodest; it had also the name of
Romanesca
on account of its Roman origin, while it had yet another name,
Cinque-pas
(
Cinqua-pace, Cinque Pass
, or
Sincopas
) from the fact that it had five steps. Under two of these names we find references to it in Shakespeare: ‘I did think by the excellent constitution of thy leg that it was formed under the star of a galliard;’ and then, in ‘Much Ado about Nothing,’ we have Beatrice's witty description of matrimony, which I must needs quote
in extenso
:—‘Wooing, wedding, and repenting,’ says this maiden philosopher, ‘is as a Scotch jigge, a measure, and a cinque-pace: the first suit is hot and hasty like a Scotch jigge (and full as fantasticall), the wedding manerly modest (as a measure), full of state and aunchentry; and then comes repentance, and with his bad legs falls into the cinque-pace faster and faster, till he sinkes into his grave.’
‘Hot and hasty like a Scotch jigge,’ she says, and might have added as an Italian, Spanish, French, or English jigge; for this
Giga, Gigue
, or
Jig
, is a very ancient dance, and belongs to many nationalities. It was frequently performed on the stage in the eighteenth century, and the medieval writers often mentioned an instrument called Gigue, supposed by some to be a kind of flute, by others a stringed instrument. The Spanish dance also went by the name of
Loures
.
SALTARELLO AT ROME
(
From an Engraving after A. C. H. Haudebourf
)
One more ancient dance must be mentioned before we pass to those of more modern times—namely, the
Saltarello
, a dance of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, peculiar to Rome. It is written in 2 4 time, and is a duet dance of a skipping nature, as its name implies. The woman always holds her apron and performs graceful evolutions in the style of the
Tarantella
, which will be described further on. The couple move in a semicircle, and the dance becomes faster and faster, as it progresses, accompanied by many beautiful motions of the arms. This is a very ancient dance, and has quite a unique character: we find that it is especially performed by gardeners and vintners. Valentin Alkan has published a
Saltarello
for the pianoforte, which may be looked on as a model. Connected with this dance is the
Seccarara
of Naples, which seems to be a dance of a similar nature; it is accompanied by a great play of features, grimaces, and gestures of all kinds.
There is much similarity of character between the ancient and modern Italians: if the modern Italian loves the dance, we remember that a favourite pastime of ancient Rome was the pantomime. This spectacle originated amongst the Greeks. Aristotle says, ‘Dancers make use of rhythm alone to express themselves without the aid of harmony; for by means of rhythm, accompanied by appropriate action, they can display character, and sentiment, and subject.’ The nature of the Greek pantomime pursued in Rome under the emperors was the same as that of the ballet now performed in the theatre of Italy—that is, it was a drama in dumb show, accompanied by music. It is recorded that Nero, during a dangerous illness, made a vow that, if he recovered, he would dance the story of Turnus in Virgil (Suetonius, ‘Nero,’ 54).
In Sicily, the ‘New Greece,’ there were still some of the poets of the land of Homer, whose mission was not only to write verses, but also to set them to music, and to accompany them, or to have them accompanied under their direction, by mimic gesture. In Sicily a man talks in verse, strums on the SicilianOrbi
, assemble and play in the public places, or in front of a house or court; then the country-people collect and begin their dances to the sound of bagpipes or cymbals. Here we may see them go through the
Ruggera
, a pantomimic dance, peculiar to Messina. This is performed and sung by four people (two men and two women), who move round and round like a clock, making exaggerated gestures. After the first round the musical accompaniment ceases, and the first woman sings a song, either in praise of the tutelary saint, or else merely a love strain. After the second round, the second man follows her example; after the third round, it is the turn of the second woman; and after the fourth round, the first man gives a song. It sometimes happens that the musicians for this entertainment are not available, and then the performers dance to the tambourine; castanets, too, are much in favour, especially during the festivities of Christmas time. But perhaps the most famous dance is the
Siciliana
, the Sicilian dance
par excellence
. It is of an idyllic and tender nature, and sometimes, it must be owned, somewhat wearisome. In Mozart's ‘Nozze di Figaro’ there is a charming example of this dance; it was frequently performed at weddings, on which occasions in Sicily there is much dancing, after the feast. The peasants dance to a flute, or a tambourine with bells, those who are above the peasants in the social scale have an orchestra of two or three violins, who play the whole afternoon or evening; sometimes the music is a bagpipe or guitar. The ball is opened by a man who, taking his cap in hand, bows low to the lady; she then rises noisily and dances with all her might, the couple holding each other by means of a handkerchief. After a time, the man makes another profound bow and sits down, while the woman continues pirouetting by herself; then
(
From an Engraving after E. H. Pingret
)
Z
We have seen in the account of the
Tambourine DanceSiciliana
that the invitation to the dance, or the choice of partners, is not left wholly to the male portion of the community, though indeed the women do not seem to be permitted to begin. But in Florence we find a dance called the
Trescona
, where the initiative is taken by the lady, who flicks the handkerchief in the face of the
(
From an Etching by Jacques Callot, about
1633)Trescona
is one of the duet dances.
Naples, too, has its special dances, such as the
TarantellaPunchinello
Tarantella
, the latter of which is to the Neapolitans what the
Fandango
is to Spaniards. But the
Tarantella
has attained to national fame, it has spread over all south Italy, and is the dance most frequently mentioned by travellers in Italy. It is usually danced by a man and woman btu sometimes by two or three women alone, playing tambourines and the large-sized Neapolitan castanets; the time is gradually
(
From an Engraving by F. Bartolozzi after W. Locke
)
Lord Nevil saw Prince Amalfi, an elegant-looking Neapolitan, entreating Corinne to dance the ‘Tarantella’ with him—a graceful
Z 2abandon
, which gave the spectator some idea of the power exorcised over the imagination by the Indian dancing-girls, when they are, so to speak, poets in the dance, expressing varied feelings by characteristic steps and picturesque attitudes.
Corinne was so well acquainted with the different attitudes which painters and sculptors have depicted, that by a slight movement of her arms, holding the tambourine sometimes above her head, sometimes in front of her, while the other hand ran over the bells with incredible swiftness, she would recall to mind the dancing-girls of Herculaneum, and present before the eye of painter or artist one idea after another in swift succession. It was not French dancing, so remarkable for the elegance and difficulty of its steps; it was a talent much more closely related to imagination and feeling. The character of the music was expressed alternately by exactness or softness of movement. Corinne, dancing, made the onlookers sharers in her feelings, just as if she were improvising, playing the lyre, or designing figures; every motion was to her as expressive as spoken language. The musicians looking at her were inspired to make the genius of their art more felt; and it would be impossible to tell what passionate joy, what ardour of imagination thrilled at once all who were witnesses of this magic dancing, which carried them away into an ideal life where one dreams of happiness not to be found in this world.
There is a moment in this Neapolitan dance when the woman kneels, and the man turns round her, not as master, but as victor. How lovely and dignified was Corinne at this moment! On her TARANTELLA AT NAPLES
(
From an Etching by B. Pinelli
)
This fascinating dance—any further description of which, after the above glowing account, would be superfluous—is supposed to have derived its name from the Tarantula, or venomous spider of Apulia. Much has been written about the
Tarantella
and
Tarantismos
, and such authors as Kircher, Porter, and others, have traced the dance to the peculiar effects caused by the bite of a spider whose scientific name is
Phalangium Apulium
(also called
Lycosea Tarantula
), to which the inhabitants of Calabria and Apulia give the name of Tarantola. The animal sometimes grows to the size of a pigeon's egg. Dr. Martimus Kähler, a Swedish physician, went to Apulia in 1756 to investigate the question of Tarantism. He came to the conclusion that it was not a disease caused by the bite of a spider, but that it was a form of hysteria, to which the inhabitants of Tarento are liable owing to the food they take, i.e. vegetables, oysters, and periwinkles. Be this as it may, the complaint is, according to medical opinion, curable by music and dancing. According to other authorities, the bite of the Tarantula produces convulsive movements which may have been styled dancing. Kircher, in his account of the
Tarantella
, relates that in Andria in the ducal palace an experiment by order of the Duchess was made. Tarentella spiders were caught and placed on little sticks laid horizontally in bowls full of water. Then musicians were fetched, and as soon as they began to play, the animals began to move their feet and jump in time to the music. When the musicians ceased to play,
Vergari in 1839 collected the result of observations made by doctors in Apulia and its neighbourhood, and says that the animating sound of the tune known as ‘Tarantella’ subdues the depressing effect of the poisonous bite of the spider. The dancing sometimes lasts three hours without a rest, and the patient behaves as if intoxicated. While dancing he carries green branches or gay ribbons, and likes to be dressed in gay colours. He hates black, and the sight of a person dressed in black greatly annoys him. The room in which he dances must be gaily adorned, and contain many mirrors. From more recent accounts we find that the Tarantismos of the fifteenth century was a nervous illness similar to the St. Vitus's Dance of to-day, and that, like the dance mania of the Middle Ages, like the Tigritiya of Abyssinia and like the dance epidemic of Madagascar, it took an endemic form. It is not surprising that music had a salutary influence on a disease, which, with all its outward symptoms of merriment, was strongly tinged with melancholy. Equally natural it seems that dancing as an exercise had a wholesome action on the malady; at various periods its therapeutic effect on disease has been recognised, and no doubt it may be placed in the same category as Turkish baths, massage, and other means used to expel poison from the body by strong agitation, to increase the circulation, and to promote the healthy action of the skin. A rather frivolous recollection crosses my mind as I write this. The incident occurred at a ball in Paris, where a young Englishman, very spare and yellow, evidently suffering from ‘the spleen,’ repeatedly invited the stoutest lady in the company to dance with him. The aunt of the damsel, alarmed at this very particular attention paid to her niece, asked the youthful Briton what his intentions were. ‘Monsieur, est-ce pour épouser?’ But, brought up in traditions of truthfulness, he replied, ‘No—pour transpirer.’
Whatever may be the curative effect of the dance, the form of the Tarantella has been used by many celebrated composers—Bach, Chopin, Rossini, Mendelssohn. Weber's last movement of the Sonata in E Minor is a masterpiece. Auber, too, has excellent examples in his ‘Muette de Portici,’ and ‘Fra Diavolo,’ and Duprast likewise introduces one into ‘Les Trovarelles.’ The dance measure is a very wild one, and its vivacity only finds an equal among European dances in the Scotch reel.
In conclusion, just a word about the accompaniment of these popular dances: of course among those who made any pretensions to orchestral accompaniment the fiddle and some kind of flute or pipe would be used, but where these could not be had there were always the castanets and the tambourine, which by themselves were quite sufficient to mark the dancer's time. The former were great favourites among the people; Neapolitan ones were known by their great size. The latter is an instrument as old probably as Cybele, certainly as old as the frescoes of Herculaneum, where we see it in the hands of the Bacchantes, so that its use is sanctioned by classical customs. If then we see the
Tarantella
danced and the castanets rattled by a graceful ‘Corinne,’ our imagination may carry us back to some Greek grotto where in fancy we may assist at the celebration of some ancient bacchanal.
In
the history of the human race, Asia, the Cradle of mankind, is a remarkable quarter of the globe. Sir Edwin Arnold says that in Eastern lands ‘light and life are larger’ than with us, passions are stronger, and heart-storms are like their earthquakes and floods. Certainly the East unrolls before us a glitter and glamour so strange that it seems to be the creation of brain and eyes shaped differently from our own.
We must not expect to find in Asia what we are accustomed to see in the West; we must almost be prepared to find the order of things reversed. All through the East dancing is performed by professional hired women or boys, who go through their evolutions in order to afford pleasure to the spectators. There are very few steps, and the movements are mainly from the waist upwards; but
bayadères, nautchees
, or
Maikos
are true dancers; every part of their body lends itself to some expression, arms and hands, as well as eyes and features.
In India the nautches are famous; they are magnificent festivities given by the princes or other dignitaries of the country in honour of some guest or personage for whom they desire to show esteem. On these occasions a display of splendour takes place which contrasts greatly with the ordinary simple and frugal way of living of the high-caste natives.
In Bombay, the Asiatic Capua, the dancing-women, with their lithe figures and their languid eyes, remind us of the An Eastern Woman before her Master Nautchees
(
From an Engraving by G. Vitalba, after Francis Smith, 1769
)bayadères
The nautchees have the right to go where they choose, and
Men also dance in India; they are called Cathacks, and are between eighteen and twenty years old. Just like the bayadères, their performances consist of graceful poses and of scarf movements, and they are dressed in magnificent costumes.
The Coles of Chota Nagpore have many different dances, and some seem to be difficult of performance; children are trained very early to learn them, and both boys and girls, decked with feathers and flowers, singing with musical voices, go through their mazy evolutions at certain festivals called ‘Yatras.’
At Bhopal, Rousselet describes a strange egg dance, which sounds as if it were an almost incredible performance:
A female dancer carries on her head a wicker wheel, which is large and placed horizontally. All round this wheel are threads with a running knot. The music is monotonous and with a short rhythm. The dancer turns round and round quickly and places an egg in the knot, throwing it so as to tighten the noose. One after another the eggs are thrown into the knots, ending by forming a halo round the head of the dancer, who whirls faster and faster, and who, without stopping, takes the eggs out again as she has placed them. When they are all out, she breaks them on a plate to show the audience that there is no deception.
In Benares, the sacred city, with its 1,400 temples, girls gracefully and solemnly climb the steep
ghâts
which lead to the Ganges; they carry on their heads the shining vase holding the muddy river water, suggesting by the movement of their arms the classical Canephora. In this holy city, at the festival of Ganesa,
bayadères
richly dressed go through a solemn scarf dance; the performers in this case are young widows who have never been wives, and they only dance in religious ceremonies, for they are consecrated to divine service and lead a very secluded life. All over India there are ritual dances, as I have already mentioned in the chapter devoted to that subject.
Mrs. Murray-Aynsley describes the Kulu religious dances performed by men before palanquins in which idols are conveyed and in the presence of the Raja; the author says that these people are not Buddhists, but that their religion partakes of Hinduism. She also gives an interesting account of the inhabitants of the Spiti Valley, who in that high and cold region of the Himalayas dance for hours, enjoying the violent exercise. Men and women dance together to the melody of their own voices. The same traveller speaks of dances performed after polo in Tibet:—
Each dancer holds on to the one in front of him, as in the game of fox and goose. The two strings of dancers wind in and out; occasionally they divide and dance opposite, advancing and receding with a slow undulating movement, which gradually becomes more energetic as they warm to their work. An adjournment is then made to the courtyard of a private house behind the bazaar. Mock sword fights take place there between two combatants, also sword dances with two crossed weapons laid on the ground, precisely like the sword dances which are performed at our Highland gatherings in the present day.
Another writer mentions an annual aboriginal dance in the Khassia Hills; generally it takes place in May, but the Raja fixes the exact date. The special
raison d'étre
of the dance is the display of all unmarried girls from far and near over the mountains to choose or to be chosen by suitable husbands. Every kind of finery is displayed for the occasion; silk robes, heavily embroidered, are worn; the rich girls have crowns of gold or silver, the poor ones only flowers in their hair. The music is performed by bagpipes and drums.
A well-brought-up Khassia maiden of the superior class is taught that the perfection of dancing is to go round in a circle with the smallest possible amount of movement; not even an eyelid is to be lifted, her hands are to hang down by her side, and her feet are. to be rigidly placed together, knees and ankle-bones touching each other. In this position she wriggles round the circle with a curious heel-and-toe motion—occasionally solemnly and slowly pirouetting round. The men amply compensate for the unexcited quietude of the girls; thee jig, they leap, they hop, they wave arms, legs,
This description is from a quotation made by Mrs. Murray Aynsley.
Some of the former ritual dances have degenerated by becoming secular; among others, the Gopis dance, which is now performed in a dark room, and which has an orgiastic character. Formerly it must have been a rite connected with the milking-feast, for the Gopis are milkmaids and attendants on the god Krishna. In the South Kensington Museum a model represents Krishna dancing with his Gopis.
The sacred volumes of India order every magistrate to keep a Court set of dancers. ‘He shall retain in his service great numbers of buffoons or parasites, jesters and dancers, and athletes.’ To the wealthy pagodas belong whole tribes of female dancers, called
bayadères
—the Word originating from the Portuguese
balladiera
; in Hindustani they are called
Devadási
. They are responsible for the cleaning of the temple, and they must dance twice daily at least before the idol. The first dance is an expiation rite for their own sins; the second symbolises an intercession for the forgiveness of their neighbours' sins. This
corps de ballet
is recruited by the priests, and mostly among the daughters of the weavers; the girls are called divine spouses, and join the community at the age of nine. It behoves the ancient
bayadères
to instruct the novices not only in the dance, but in singing, reading, and writing. Once the bayadère is consecrated as a ‘divine spouse,’ she cannot return to her family: she belongs body and soul to the pagoda, which feeds, dresses, and lodges her for life.
The magnates of India have often whole troops of nautch girls at their service; these dancers dress with great luxury, and resort to every artifice to enhance and to preserve their beauty.
There are several pretty myths connected with the dance in the religion which holds sway over the shores of the Ganges: Krishna and his cycle of deities personify the harmony ofthirty-five millions
of nymphs, specially gifted with all the talents which make good dancers. One of the rewards prophesied by the priests to the faithful worshippers in after life is this enchanting sight of armies of
bayadères
delighting their eyes and ears by dance and music, with Tchamouda as their leader.
Considering the importance given to the dance by the religion of the country, the number of dancers employed, the idea that the dance is born in heaven, we cannot wonder that in former times the Hindoos began each day with a special dance consecrated to the sun.
Mahometan views concerning music and dancing have greatly narrowed the circle of amusements in Persia. Dancing girls were numerous at Court until the reigning family ascended the throne of Persia; but at present the dance is given up to women of low condition and of slack morality, or to young boys dressed as women. Early Persian poets celebrate the beauty of the dancing girls and the charm of their voices, and at one time there must have been a great deal of dancing in the country and probably some ritual dances; but in Persia the student of the history of the dance meets with the same difficulties in his investigations as he does in Scotland—the religion of the country has endeavoured not only to suppress the pastime, but also to forbid any record of it. Yet in some remote provinces of Persia there is dancing performed by peasants at night, and at Teheran itself Georgian girls are employed as dancers; in Kurdistan and in Khorassan we also find traces of the art. Mr. E.G. Browne speaks with admiration of the dancing boys of Persia; he praises their ‘elaborate posturing, which is usually more remarkable for acrobatic skill than for grace, at any rate according to our ideas.’
In Buzabatt, near Kashan, it is curious to notice that astellis
, he is advised to dance to the sound of music. (See ‘Tarantella,’ in chapter on the Dances of Italy.)
Who can imagine a mandarin dancing a polka or a cotillon? Who can picture to himself a woman waltzing in the land of mutilated feet? But must dancing necessarily be performed according to our Western ideas? Why cannot the Chinaman have dances of his own? Must a Highlander dance the fandango, or a Frenchman dance a jig?
In all Asiatic dances agility and liveliness are seldom attempted: they would be looked upon as unbecoming and undignified. Dancing in its real form—e.g. symmetric movements and swayings to the accompaniment of drum and music—has existed in China from prehistoric times up to this very day. Some of the highest contemporary authorities deny the existence of dancing in China, excepting as performed in the theatre and as executed by professional women or boys for the pleasure of mandarins, but I have irrefragable evidence of ritic dancing from accounts of English ambassadors, of missionaries—both French and British—and from the Government report by Von Aalst. If little has been written about Chinese dancing, it may be for two reasons: one, that the ordinary traveller—the commercial or political resident in the East—usually does not know the language, has a fine contempt for the manners of the land, and is therefore hardly, if ever, i admitted to the intimacy of the people; his judgment would thus merely be a sweeping one of things just around him. The other reason is that the true student—the man who knows the Chinese tongue and who has studied the habits of the Celestials—would probably consider the dance a frivolous amusement, too trifling to be put on record.
In countries where art is still in its infancy, music and dancing are inseparable, and more or less dependent on one
The hierarchic order of the dance is very old in China. Every member of the State was allotted a given number of dancers. In the Emperor's palace there were eight dances, each performed by eight different dancers, the
corps de ballet
thus numbering sixty-four. The provincial kings had six dances, each performed by six sets of six dancers, and so on.
Some of the dances are called
small dances
, because they are learnt in infancy; and of these there are five which take their name from an object held in the hand of the performer. The sixth dance was called the Man's dance, because it was performed with empty hands.
Other dances are called
Ancient or Great
; they were only learnt after the age of twenty. The Chinese word for dance is Ou. Dancing-masters were highly honoured and belonged to the second class of mandarins; each one had two body-guards, two scribes, two assistants, and twenty pupils. The dancing-master was also the director of music. Two special seasons call for the dance—the winter solstice, when heaven is worshipped; and the summer solstice, when the earth is worshipped. These were sacrificial dances.
The Emperor Shun, who lived in 2255 B.C., was the first to introduce the dance into the ceremonies; in the third year of Yung-Ming, A.D. 485, an Imperial decree ordered the dance
First four figures of the Chinese Ritual Dance
(
From ‘Chinese Music,’ by J. A. van Aalst, Shanghai
, 1884)
During the present dynasty military dances, have been abolished, and there remained only thirty-six different civil dances with two leaders each. The long feather is a peacock's; formerly three were tied together, forming a trident; the little
A A
Chinese Ritual Dancer
(
From ‘Chinese Music,’ by J. A. van Aalst, Shanghai
, 1884)
Hymn during which the Mandarins dance in honour of Confucius
The music of the hymn to which the ritic dance is performed is given by Van Aalst, and an example of it is copied above. One of the strophes reads as follows in the translation: ‘I think of thy bright virtue. The jade music ends. The music of metal is first heard; of living men there was none like him. Truly his teaching is in all respects complete.’
In the temples of Agriculture, and in those of Ancestors, special days are appointed for the worship of the spirit of Confucius and other departed sages. The whole learned class worships Confucius. During the ceremonies the Emperor himself is supposed to attend; but if his absence is unavoidable, he deputes one of his sons or some high dignitary to superintend. the evolution of the dances. The hymn has six strophes, but only during the second, third, and fourth, do the dances take place.
The dance in China also takes the form of an act of homage to the Sovereign. Special mandarins are appointed for this performance. They dance before the Emperor with graceful and dignified mien and with precise movements, then they salute and retire. The greatest in the land in the most gorgeous dresses perform this dance, of which the smallest detail is previously regulated and faithfully observed. The positions are fixed with mathematical accuracy. These ritic
A A 2
Just as the Emperor is honoured by a dance, so he confers a mark of favour to ambassadors by receiving them with splendid dances. Once, when the dance was at its glory in China, the Emperor showed the appreciation he felt for his viceroys by the number of the dances with which he received them when they came into his presence. If he was displeased with their administration he would reprove them silently by allowing only a few dances, performed by a small number of
coryphées
.
Emperors did not disdain the study of the dance or its performance in public; they generally devoted the autumn to the former, and the spring to the latter, and the feast of Ancestors was the greatest occasion for the dance. In 1719, the son of the Emperor danced before his father and the whole assembled Court. In some of these ceremonies varied coloured lanterns are carried and figures of all sorts are formed, especially letters. The habits of precision of the Chinese greatly assist in the success of such entertainments.
Bell speaks of having received an invitation to dinner from the Emperor's ninth son. The entertainment was magnificent, and accompanied by music, dancing, and a kind of comedy; and several ambassadors write about dances which were performed at banquets. Professional female dancers are called ‘talented women.’
A great many qualities are required of a Japanese dancing girl, or Maiko; she must be young, beautiful, graceful, musical, and witty. No feast in Japan is considered complete without the Maikos, who are taught at an early age to perform their figures to the chant of the national poems. Dancer and singer are one. When the Maiko has lost the first blush Japanese Fan Dance
(
From a Japanese Painting
)
The fan dance, interpreted by young girls with various movements, figures, and poses, is one of many favourite Japanese dances. Men seldom dance in Japan except to show off some choregraphic agility usually inspired by the saki fumes; but they take a part in the circular dances which belong to the family banquets, and which are as diversified as they are ancient.
Japan has also its ritual dances, and probably many more than I have been able to discover. Among others is the
Shinto
dance, a sacred chorus described by Dresser in 1882, in which priestesses and little children form solemn and stately steps to slow music, alternating the figures of the dance with prostrations before some little tables on which the sistrums are alternately placed and removed either to be worshipped or to be shaken during the dance.
Altogether, the beautiful Maikos in their handsome gowns perform some of the most pleasing dances in the world, a harmonious and artistic feast for eyes and ears.
The history of the ballet is interesting, for in its widest sense it is also the history of our modern opera; but if we take the ballet in its more exclusive meaning, its course is scarcely at present an elevated one.
It is customary to attribute the invention of the ballet, like the invention of everything else, to the Egyptians, who in their dances personified the movements of stars and planets; and a short walk through the galleries of the British Museum will convince the observer that the Egyptians had large troops of dancing girls performing to music during banquets many centuries before our era. Again, the Greeks are sometimes said to be the originators of the ballet; the
Hyporchemes
, graceful dances performed either by the whole ‘chorus’ or by a few dancers chosen for their proficiency, imitated actions and personified mythological or daily events; no definite rule was given, but the movements and figures adapted themselves to the poetry which was recited. The beautiful Greek representation of the Dance of the Hours in the Paris Museum may serve as a typical form of ballet movements.
Many attribute the source of the ballet to the Roman pantomimes, and there may be some truth in all these assertions; but the real home of the ballet was Italy, and thence it has been developed and perfected in France. It was not introduced into England until the eighteenth century, when Italian
intermezzi
were performed at York Buildings. In the first Italian operas
We must therefore go to other nations before describing the English ballet. The real ballet was a union of music, poetry, and dance, for which poets did not disdain to write the libretto; for instance, in a ballet performed by Marie Antoinette, when she was still Archduchess of Austria, the libretto was written by Metastasio, the music by Gluck, and the interpreters were imperial princes and princesses. In the beginning the ballet was essentially a Court entertainment, and the first on record took place in Italy in 1489 at the wedding of the Duke of Milan. With the Medici the splendid dance entertainments were introduced into France, Catherine de' Medici, while plotting the massacre of St. Bartholomew, found pleasure in witnessing the antics of a troupe of Italian players called ‘I Gelosi,’ whose acting was chiefly mimic and varied with comic dances. The Tambourine dance, given on p. 338, represents the characters of Gian Farina, Fracischina, and Mezzetin in one of those early ballets. The ‘Ballet Comique de la Reyne’ marks an era in the history of the opera, for here we find for the first time the artistic combination of dramatic fiction with the dance and music. Baltasarini, better known as Beaujoyeulx, was the author, composer, and ballet-master of this entertainment, which was held in 1581, and he was so successful with it that the sombre Catherine rewarded him by making him both Chamberlain and Intendant de Musique. In giving to his ballet the title of ‘Comique,’ he meant to imply that it was a ballet and a comedy as well—a comedy because it had a connected plot which was carried out in a series of scenes, and a ballet because the chief events of the entertainment were portrayed by dances and masques.
In the sixteenth century it was generally some great personage who conceived the idea of giving a dance entertainment, and who sought out a poet and ordered him to write a libretto;intermezzi
in the plays was largely due to the knowledge he had gathered from a troupe called ‘Li Comici Fedeli.’
In the reign of Louis XIV. even abstract ideas were represented in ballets; for instance, when the king married Marie Thérèse, the famous expression ‘Il n'y a plus de Pyrénées’ was the subject of a ballet in which two nymphs—a French one and a Spanish one—sang a duet, while half the dancers wore Spanish, the other half French costume.
Under Louis XIV. ballets were expensive pleasures, for musicians and machinists had to come from Italy. When Louis XIV. lost his symmetry of figure and retired from the ballet, the princes and noblemen did likewise, and the ballet lost by it. The Ballet de la Cour always ended with a surprise (fully expected); for instance, a banquet was suddenly served, or a concert was given. Occasionally the surprise took the form of a present for each guest. This part of the ballet was called
Moral ballets also took place, especially at the Court of Savoy; sentences suitable for copy-books were put into mimic action. At Turin in 1634 a ballet was given, and called ‘Truth —the Enemy of Appearance,’ and it began with a chorus of
false
notes.
The Duchesse du Maine invented the ballet-pantomime. It was the first introduction of a ballet without words, and it represented the fourth act of Corneille's ‘Horace,’ set to music by Mouret. The principal dancers were Balan and Prévost, and they not only moved their audience to tears, but were themselves quite overcome with emotion. A wag of the time, who had witnessed this ballet and noticed the intensity of feeling roused by the mimetic rendering of Corneille's famous ‘Qu'il mourût,’ wrote to Noverre, a great ballet-master of the period, suggesting that La Rochefoucauld's Maxims should be put in a
ballet d'action
! Voltaire calls Noverre a genius, and no doubt he did much both for the ballet and for preserving its history; and he faithfully carried out the works of Gluck and Piccini.
When the ballet left the Court, and before it finally came on the stage, it took refuge in the colleges, where Lulli's and Quinault's ballets were a feature at distributions of prizes.
Before the time of Lulli only men danced in public, and they were disguised as women whenever the action required the introduction of nymphs or sirens. The composer had the courage to admit women as dancers, and gradually we see their popularity wax and that of the male dancer wane. At present the idea of a male ballet-dancer has something ludicrous in it, and though men usually form part of ballets, they rarely now take a prominent share. The poet Southey declares that a male dancer ought to be hamstrung.
Ballet-dancers must pre-eminently possess dramatic gifts, and should personify Shakespeare's saying: ‘Spirits which by mine art I have from their confines called to enact my presentnom de guerre
. Her career was short in England, for it is said of her that during the second rehearsal she got into such a temper with the
impresario
that she broke her umbrella over his head, after which her engagement was cancelled. The great dancing school for the ballet is at Milan, in the Scala, there I have seen the tuition given to the young dancers and the hard work they have to perform. In the interest of this volume I have also witnessed the dancing lessons given to the
corps de ballet
at the Paris Opera-house, and I have been quite astonished to find that the profession of a ballet-dancer is a very arduous one. Not only must the beginner go through weary —often painful—exercises, but the
première danseuse
must not neglect her daily gymnastic practices. When I was in Paris for the purpose of studying this question I brought an introduction to Mlle. Mauri, the great dancer of the Opéra. I called on her, but found she was at the theatre; and the servant told me her mistress was ‘working.’ So she was, hard at work, about 11 A.M., on the large stage of the Opéra, attired in knickerbockers, for her practice.
The corps de ballet, besides the men which belong to it, is composed (and I think the same hierarchy exists in the London ballet) of
première
and
deuxième danseuses
, of a certain number of
marcheuses
, whose duty it is to make graceful movements and to help in forming the figures, and of rats or beginners.
Fifty years ago the Haymarket corps de ballet numbered sixteen men and sixteen women, besides three male and nine female dancers of the first and second rank.
The
rats
have to begin in early youth, and they are often articled for seven years. In Paris they are articled for five years. Unless they begin very young, they can never expect to be stars, and the highest position they may attain is that of
marcheuses
. Dr. Véron, who has made the ballet a special study, reports that the dancer may have to pay for her exercises by
The dress worn by ballet-dancers has greatly varied at different times. According to Noverre, Madame Tallien introduced transparent fabrics among the dancers, and the writer compares them to the women of Sparta, who wore no clothes for the dance. Taglioni wore skirts down to her ankles; her father was a ballet-master, and when she was very young she was very ill-shaped—almost a hunchback. Her father was extremely strict with her and made her work hard; he also always recommended her to be modest in dress, in movement, and in expression. ‘Vestris I
Gaetan Vestris lived in the middle of the last century, and modestly styled himself ‘le diou de la danse.’ Being an Italian (a Florentine; the real name was Vestri) he could not pronounce French well, and his appellation of ‘le diou de la danse’ stuck to him. He also called himself Vestris I
Ses yeux ne daignaient volt de son temps sur la terre Que trois grands hommes, lui, Frédéric et Voltaire.—
la contenance
and
la révérence
, and his speeches were many and grandiloquent; but his mental culture was great, and many
Berchoux.chaconne
for his son Auguste, who was to dance in this opera. Gluck refused, on the plea that the Greeks knew nothing about the
chaconne
. ‘Did they not?’ replied Gaetan.
Vestris dancing the Goose-step
(
From an Engraving by F. Bartolozzi, after George Dance
, 1781)
‘I am sorry for them! But you must write a
chaconne
for my son, because I am “le diou de la danse.”’ Gluck, irritated, said, ‘Well, if you are the “diou de la danse,” go and dance in heaven, and not in my opera;’ but, nevertheless, the
chaconne
was written.
A parallel to Vestris can be found in another dancer andcoup de talon
and a side-step which he invented for the ladies, whose long trains embarrassed them. Marcel's lessons were very highly paid, and all the Court circle went to him for instruction. His language was by no means choice, and, according to letters of the time, it was amusing to notice the contrast between his deep obeisances and his brusque remarks to his royal pupils. When they arrived in his
salon
, which was lined with looking-glasses, he received them sitting in a big armchair, with all the magnificent air of Louis XIV. Every pupil had to salute him according to rule, and then to put a coin (
écu de 6 francs
) in a vase standing on the chimney. Lord Chesterfield urged his son to attend Marcel's academy. Noverre—already mentioned—became a pupil of Marcel in 1740, and from his letters we have many amusing details about the author of the saying, ‘Que de choses dans un menuet!’ Marcel had become very gouty, and one day was unable to give Noverre his lesson; the young man suggested he should teach him his steps from his armchair by means of demonstrations with his fingers. Noverre was quick at learning, and Marcel showed him an intricate dance—a rondeau—in this new fashion.
In 1750 ‘Léandre et Héro,’ a ballet-opera, was given in Paris, and the audience of that day had the satisfaction of seeing the two greatest dancers performing together—namely, Vestris I. and Madame Camargo, who introduced the short skirts on the stage. She was much beloved by all, and was received in the best and strictest set of Paris. She began to show off the dancing tricks, such as balancing the whole body on the point of the toe, &c., which are now too familiar. She nearly always improvised. Her rival was Mlle. Sallé, who, on the contrary, followed the true classical traditions,
Mlle. Guimard was the next favourite of the Paris ballet. She was a contemporary of Auguste Vestris, and made her
début
at the age of thirteen. For twenty-eight years she was the idol of the public. She was so thin that she was nicknamed the spider. Her expenditure was most extravagant: she had a magnificent house built for her with a bijou theatre erected in it, in which the boxes were hung with pink silk and ornamented with silver braid. Madeleine Guimard was very kind-hearted. While her house was in construction she noticed a young painter who was decorating her walls with frescoes, and who looked very sad. Having spoken to him and questioned him, she learnt that he was very poor and could not continue his studies. She immediately obtained an allowance for him, which allowed David—for it was he—to go to Rome. The painter Fragonard also made some of the frescoes of her house; Houdon moulded the dancer's foot; and when a piece of stage scenery injured and broke Madeleine Guimard's arm, a mass for her recovery was said at Notre-Dame. Marie Antoinette consulted her on all matters of the toilet. The dancer was very old when she first came to England. The
impresarios
of this country found great difficulty in procuring first-rate dancers at all; it was only when they had completely lost their youth that they consented to cross the Channel, but as a rule they managed to strike off twenty or twenty-five years in the process. Thus Guimard left Paris aged sixty, and reached London aged thirty-five.
A notice of Covent Garden in March 1734 announced ‘The Way of the World, with entertainments of dancing, particularly the Scottish dance by Mr. Glover and Mrs. Laguerre, Mr. le Sac and Miss Boston, Mr. de la Garde and Mrs. Ogden, with a new dance called Pigmalion, performed by Mr. Malter and Mlle. Sallé.’ The ballet of ‘Pygmalion and Galatea’ had
Ah, Camargo, que vous êtes brillante,
Mais que Sallé, grands dieux! vous êtes ravissante.
Que vos pas sont légers, et que les siens sont doux.
Elle est inimitable, et vous êtes nouvelle.
Les nymphes sautent comme vous,
Mais les Graces dansent comme elle.
The English public became tired of seeing only aged dancers on its stage, in spite of the rejuvenising system they underwent while crossing the Channel, and thus in 1821 Ebers sent over to Paris to make some better arrangements. So important was this considered that the negotiations had to be made through the British ambassador, who conferred on the subject with the Baron de la Ferté, the Intendant of the Royal Theatre in Paris. Mlle. Nobler was engaged on this occasion; she was to have 55
ol
. for the two months of the season, and 25
l
. expenses.
In 1824 the expenses of the ballet at the King's Theatre, London, were:
M. Aumer Mlle. Aumer M. Albert Beauregard Ferdinand Guillet Idalise Le Blond Legros Nobler Venafra The two Vestris
The golden period for the ballet in England was from 1820 to 1850 at the King's Theatre, which afterwards became Her Majesty's. Great composers and great poets wrote the ballets
B B
In Vienna, Beethoven wrote ‘Prometheus,’ a ballet which was given at the Burg-Theater in March 1801. It had a great run, and was almost immediately published as a pianoforte solo. Haydn and Beethoven had some bitter words over this ballet. Another was composed for Carlotta Grisi on Victor Hugo's theme ‘Esmeralda’ (taken from ‘Notre-Dame de Paris’).
The public of Her Majesty's had the good fortune to see Fanny Elssler, a daughter of Haydn's copyist, and Cerito dancing the menuet of ‘Don Giovanni.’ Of all ballet-dancers, the most familiar name is that of Taglioni, whom some may remember. She has been immortalised by Thackeray, and in her time gave her name to a stage-coach and to a greatcoat. Taglioni died in 1884.
‘La Sylphide’ was a famous dance of Elssler's. She was a perfect actress, and could adopt every style. Admirers went so far as to call her the greatest dramatic actress of this century. She was a German with coal-black hair, and must have been very strong. According to Henry Bauer, when she was crossing over to New York, a thief entered her cabin with the purpose of stealing the jewel-box which she kept under her pillow. As he approached her she gave him one kick in the chest, and killed the man on the spot. In America her dancing created such enthusiasm that it is said ‘Divines offered her their pews at meeting-houses.’
The
Cuchucha
was a speciality and, so to speak, an invention of Carlotta Grisi's, and is not, as commonly believed, a national Spanish dance. The word ‘Cachucha’ corresponds to anything light and charming; why in this country it is constantly called and spelt ‘Cachuca’ I do not know.
Occasionally the figures of the ballet are drawn in chalk (for rehearsals) on the floor of the stage. Several authors have written about choregraphy or the art of representing
The best book written on the ballet—on the ancient ballet —is by le Pare Ménestrier (again an ecclesiastic!) Noverre's letters are also good, but altogether the literature of the ballet Choregraphy
B B 2
Among the numerous portraits of famous ballet-dancers, I have chosen that of Giovanna Baccelli by Gainsborough. This dancer is mentioned by Walpole, and was a great favourite of the Duke of Dorset. A foot-note in Taylor's ‘Life of Sir Joshua Reynolds’—who also painted her—says ‘she danced at Paris wearing the Duke's garter as a bandeau.’ Was its ‘Honi soit quimaly pense’ ever so appropriate since the order was founded?
Greek Dancing Lesson
(
From a Vase Painting in the British Museum about 450 B. C
.)
It has been shown that most famous ballet-masters have also been famous dancers, but the best teachers of dancing, in my opinion, are not men, but women. The ancient Greeks, who gave such great thought and care to all arts, employed women as dancing teachers. Socrates went to Aspasia to learn the Terpsichorean art. On a vase in the collection at the British Museum, two men learn to dance from a woman who holds in her hand a ‘tawse,’ and seems ready to apply it for every faulty step. In the present illustration the teacher only holds SIGNORA BACCELLI Grown Ladies taught to Dancecrotolas
, the ancient castanets. It will be seen how graceful and dignified the Greek teacher is, giving her lesson about 450 years B.C., compared with the dancing-master who holds out his coat-tails, and kicks away imaginary dress tail while his left hand holds the kit. And in this other picture of Collett's, who is the most ludicrous, the fat grown-up pupil
(
From an Engraving after J. Collett, circa
1769)
The art of dancing must be learnt very young. In Spain children dance before they speak, and in that country we still find to-day perfect dancing among all classes, high and Grown Gentlemen taught to Dance Highland Dancing Lesson The Dancing Lesson
(
From an Engraving after J. Collett
, 1768)
From a Print by Frederick Taylor
, 1844)
(
From an engraving after F. Heilbuth
)
La Zamacueca
The handkerchief has been a great accessory in the dance; but still greater have been the castanets and the fan. Both have a literature. The history of the castanets has been written in a most scientific manner by a Spanish priest. From him Egyptian Clappersmacho
and
hembra
), and if we hear castanets well played—a thing which never happens in this realm, where people always hold the castanets between the wrong fingers—the difference of sound can be well detected. The Spaniard can play any air of his castanets, but the most usual way is to play the rhythm with the castanets of the left hand (like the bass on the piano) and to modulate with the right hand. The
The fan has always been an adjunct of the dance, and is found at all times and everywhere, from China to Spain. A charming work on the history of the fan has been written by
I should have liked to write about the masks and disguises so usual at balls, but space will not allow me to dwell on this matter. The illustration, a copy from an illuminated MS. of the ‘Roman de la Rose,’ will show that fancy balls, or rather the fashion of adopting fancy attire at balls, dates far back.
Of all fancy balls, the most noteworthy is that of the Paris Opéra. Before the new building was in existence these bails were held right through Carnival, but it was feared that in the new house the revels might lead to injury of the artistic decorations. Permission was only granted for four bails every year, and these are so much patronised that the average gross earnings amount to 8,000
l
. Two orchestras play on such occasions, one in the large hall and one in the
foyer
. Under Louis Philippe, Musard directed the music of the
bals de l'Opéra
; he was quite a Parisian celebrity, and was called ‘le Paganini de la danse et le Roi de la quadrille.’ He caused great enthusiasm, and introduced innovations; for example, at a given moment all the chairs of the orchestra would be broken in rhythm, or a gun suddenly fired off, &c. Strauss succeeded Musard as
chef d' orchestre
.
Most people labour under the impression that olden times were more fortunate than our own days in the superiority of one or other of the arts, especially in the excellence of artists and executants. With perfect consciousness of this tendency, so natural to us all, Sir Augustus Harris, upon my consulting him on the present condition of stage dancing, was bound to give it as his opinion that this branch of art has greatly retrograded during the latter end of the century. He thought dancing A DANCE FAN La Danse dans le Jardin du Plaisir
(
From a manuscript ‘Le Roman de la Rose’ in the British Museum
)
The reason why there is so little good dancing is because performers do not cultivate their brains. They care nothing about the expression of an idea, and the conventionality of their performance is mirrored in their expressionless faces. The usual short ballet skirts are odious. In Italy they are now made to stand straight out from the waist, and only just reach to the thigh. Flowing drapery should be an adjunct to graceful movements and skilful steps. But the moderns grasp the letter and not the spirit of this law in their skirt-dancing. What is the skirt-dance? No dance at all; a very monotonous and wearying performance, consisting in the twirling of many yards of some material in the manner of a mill-wheel. There are many styles of dancing existing in the world: stage-dancing, classic dancing, national dancing, and so on, falling into two great divisions, good dancing and bad dancing—mostly the latter.
I asked Sir Augustus if nothing could be done to remedy the evil. He could only suggest that a genius was required. Miss Kate Vaughan made the nearest approach to elevating the standard of modern stage-dancing.
Efforts are being made to-day towards a revival of the ballet, which forms such a large element in the entertainment at music hails. Thousands of pounds are spent on these shows, whole battalions of girls are enrolled and are made to pass before the public in kaleidoscopic way under limelight flashes and with everything that can enhance the scenic effect. These ballets, however, are pageants, and have very little in them of the dance in its more artistic form.
THE BALLET
An Artistic Group
To see in the practice of dancing nothing but a caprice of a stage-truck young person—a means of entering upon theatrical career—is, with all respect to the dramatic art, only another phase of the almost universal misunderstanding which has existed for many years on the subject of the dance. Hence its neglect, or toleration as a mere vehicle for social success. The study of music and painting is now general, it is an artistic enjoyment; for young minds perceive and love
Thus, while pleading for the dance that it should be learnt for its own sake, and not for society's sake, Mrs. Wordsworth suggests a secondary motive, that of usefulness, in the earnest cultivation of the art so long despised.
Graceful Movements, No. 1
Healthy exercise is now so universally acknowledged as essential that it would be waste of time to dwell upon the theme. Now, the beautiful activity of artistic dancing gives play to the muscles while regulating and controlling their use; exercises the limbs under disciplinary supervision, rendering them more and more fit for their daily and commonplace tasks; rests the back and yes after hours of study; and, above all, gives free employment to the lungs.
There are, however, special gifts which enable the art to serve equally the clever and the dull among students. It will brighten the mind of the back child, enabling it to succeed, perhaps for the first time, in the accomplishment of a
Graceful Movements, No. 2
A moral gain is also attainable for many by this study Experienced teachers have seem instances of improvements effected in nerve and temper, undiscoverable until the stern discipline of the dancing lesson came to the rescue, working subtly in the guise of play—for one must remember that vigorous movement is natural to the young. The disobedient become accustomed to obey; the sulky perforce throw off their habitual mood; ill-temper is forgotten. Thus the physical benefit of the exercise is supplemented by other elevating influences.
Those who grieve (and who does not?) over the colourless lives of the deaf and dumb, will be consoled by the assurance of Mrs. Wordsworth that dancing is an untold pleasure to them. It may seem strange, but is nevertheless true, that the rhythmical movement causes them such real delight that in watching their dance one loses sight of their affliction, and can hardly realise that their ears are not drinking in every sound.
The gift of health is, as a general rule, one of the rewards of the dancer, and it is asserted by enthusiasts that dancing and kindred exercises do much to preserve the appearance of youth. Compare two women of fifty, one of whom has been trained to exercise the limbs and has continued to enjoy the activity of the dance, while the other has given way to languor, or has otherwise allowed her muscles to rest. There will be no difficulty in discovering in the younger-looking and more graceful woman the lover of the dance.
But before so much of actual benefit may be looked for, a good, regular, and systematic training in this art is necessary as a practical part of education. A little instruction by fits and starts will not suffice. For children, it is enough that they should look upon dancing as an art, if they have imagination enough; as a pleasant lesson, if they like; or as a recreation. There is little fear but that they will find it an exhilarating one.
Girls and boys must be taught to use, and not to abuse, their talent; when they have their feet, and indeed the whole of their body, well under control, they will know better also how to appreciate artistic dancing whenever they see it. With the spread of good taste in society and among the masses, stage-dancing will become more refined.
It would require many pages to explain the special use of insight into the varieties of the dance. In the first place there must be taken into consideration the dress and music of the different periods. The beauty of the moving groups of Greek dancers consisted in the perfect harmony of their movements Cretan Garland Dance
From this point dancing as a spectacle became endurable
C C
Greek Chain Dance
The
earliest artistic feelings of man are called forth by rhythmical effects; but it is an open question whether these first took shape in sound or motion, in music or the dance.
It has been said that appreciation of these effects is cultivated by some Eastern peoples as an object in itself. With them the note and step, and their groaping, are often but unconsidered vehicles of expression for rhythm so marvellously developed that it remains unappreciated by other hearers. The subtle divisions and subdivisions convey to the Eastern intelligence a delight which the European would think more suitable as a study for the arithmetician than for the artist.
It is true, according to Captain Day, that the nautch is danced to measures made purposely as complicated as possible; but this elaboration is intended to help the dancer in conveying her meaning. An extraordinary development of rhythm may serve, in the East, to take the place of European counterpoint in the procession or clothing of a melody; but by the majority of Western listeners it is unheeded or despised, just as the minute intervals of an Eastern air, made possible by the extreme length of the strings of the instrument, have, for all but the few students who are at once skilled and unprejudiced, the effect of a tiresome whine. Besides, it seems that Europeans, however high in office, are not, as a rule, privileged to hear the best Indian music, even on grand occasions.
The Eastern developments praised by travellers remain, therefore, even with the help of Captain Day's description of the
C C 2
It may be said that dance rhythm in its origin included verse or song rhythm. The evidence of collected national songs shows that rhythmical effects among primitive peoples have been allied or subordinated to expression in warlike or other emotional dance and song.
It seems likely at any rate that primitive man, chanting and dancing, accommodated his song to his step. The sort of step, were it skip, jump, or shuffle, single or combined, shall here be said to mark time; the figure of the dance—that is to say, the group of steps—to mark the rhythm. Rhythm, then, may be accounted for by the instinct of the dancer to swerve from one side to the other. As has been pointed out very ingeniously by Mr. Rowbotham in his ‘History of Music,’ the popularity of triple time in dancing may result from the natural tendency to skip for joy or from high spirits. In this movement we have a heavy beat of one foot followed by a light beat of the other, otherwise expressed by a long note followed by a short note—the trochee:
Example
1
In the shuffle the stamp made by the ball of the foot is followed by the slide of the sole, forming one short beat followed by a long beat—the iambus:
Example
2
And with each combination of these steps a new development of the measure arises.
So far, only the steps or notes of a motive have been considered. But after the dancer has skipped, tripped, or shuffled forward ‘for some distance in any given direction, he
At the end of each set or phrase there would be originally a step lost; for, except by missing a step, there could be no such natural or easy change of the leading foot; if this change be not marked off by a pause (apparent also in the accompanying song) it declares itself by the strong emphasis of the first beat of the new set. There is a battle dance of the Australians which seems to denote a series of shuffles to the right for four bars, followed by four bars of almost regular movement, a kick, or jump, or march forward, ending with a repetition of the shuffle, led this time by the left foot, and bringing the dancer back to the starting point, or forward to the left hand:
Example
3
It has been worth while to consider these simple elements of rhythm, because civilised Europe has never discarded the natural duple and triple time-beats, using them with diversities of accent and figure in the music. It seems unlikely that a complicated or unnatural beat in dancing would survive in artificial society. The 5-4 beat existed among ancient races as distinct as the Finns, Negroes, and Indians, who added also
Example
4
Rhythm, or the grouping of bars and the balancing of periods, has been seriously cultivated in dance music. It took shape very gradually from the time when primitive man moved in the swing of one phrase in two bars, repeated
ad infinitum
, to the epoch of the nicely calculated and rounded series of groups of rhythms called a Viennese waltz.
The following strophe out of the seven choruses of the dervish Mevlevi, published by the ‘Harmonicon’ in 1823, begins softly and mildly, but has forcible rhythmical periods of three bars, with a repetition of a cadence before the double bar:
Example
5
‘They dance,’ says Professor Ramsay, ‘in frenzied excitement to the music of Cybele's own instruments, cymbals and flutes, and perhaps even to the actual airs that were played centuries before Christ.’
If early Greek tunes appear to moderns somewhat ineffective, owing to the subservience of musical rhythm to metre, the later Greek dances seem disguised to the ear of a native Greek when they are harmonised. An instance is quoted by Engel, where a Greek vehemently protested against the use of the simple chords by which a German musician supported the following air:
Example
6
In the absence of documentary evidence earlier than the ninth century, it may be safely assumed that popular music during the early days of the Christian era generally followed the dance rhythms, while church music became systematised by Pope Gregory.
Popular dance tunes became more and more definitely rhythmical as they were spread abroad by troubadours, gipsies, and jongleurs. So definite did they become that Franco, a monk of Cologne in the middle ages, drew up in a treatise a system of time notation. Henceforward these measures began to work their way into the services of the Church. This was the first victory of the dance rhythm.
The troubadours must be passed over with bare recognition, to give way to the most enduring of the world's singers, the gipsies. Two dance tunes which come from Russia have a comparatively uncommon rhythm of four phrases, each of three bars:
Example
7
An example from France, dating from the sixteenth century, appears to be of unusually ascetic character; the gipsy
abandon
depends only on its execution. It is quoted by Miss L. A. Smith in her book upon Romany music:
Example
8
It is, however, wilder than the air noted down by Salinas, before 1557, as the usual movement for historical songs and ballads:
Example
9
But gipsy tunes are generally distinguished by great vigour and wealth of imagination. One belonging to early English gipsies befits the country's reputation for merriment. It has a period of eight bars, another of four bars, with a close of four bars, repeated, and begins:
Example
10
This leads fittingly to the English dances; the Morris dance especially, which is said to have been inspired by the gipsies. It may be supposed that both dance and music were here subordinated in interest to the mummeries they accompanied. The Example II is from Chappell's ‘Popular Music,’ 2nd edition, in 6-4 time, and has no irregularity of rhythm. Like other English dances, it may be performed to any ordinary air. It is composed of three divisions, which may point to a variation in the step or to three changes of figure:
Example
11
Among dances of the English people none was more popular than ‘Joan Sanderson,’ or the cushion dance. Its slow opening in triple time was followed by phrases in 6-4 time; and though departing from the usual simplicity, did not test too severely the ears of village dancers. The tune of the cushion dance is quoted by Stainer, Grove, and Chappell.
The measure of the hornpipe is so varied that no definite rule can be laid down, but it is safe to say that the final note of a phrase, whether it be in common or in triple time, should be long and accented, suggesting the stamp of the foot. A very lengthy and elaborate ‘Hornepype’ was composed early in the sixteenth century by Aston, of whose other music only sacred pieces are extant. The example is taken from Chappell's ‘Popular Music’:—
Example
12
A fine one by Dibdin, ‘Jack at Greenwich,’ like the celebrated ‘College Hornpipe,’ is in common time.
The jig has a fine swing in a phrase of two bars in triple time. The following, by Eccles, was composed about the end of the seventeenth century, and is quoted by Stainer and Barrett (‘Dict. of Musical Terms’). The Irish jig is something similar.
Example
13
It is interesting to note that, of all old English dances, the only one which has survived to this day is ‘Sir Roger de Coverley.’ The music was printed, with directions for the dance, in 1685. The following version is taken from a volume of Playford's ‘Dancing Master’ for 1695:
Example
14
English composers eagerly adopted foreign dance forms. Whitelocke, a politician of the seventeenth century, wrote a coranto which enjoyed extraordinary popularity. Pavans and almans exercised the ingenuity of musicians, and they did not seek to improve on the fresh and sturdy British tunes. The allemande, coranto, saraband, and gigue became the accepted material of the lesson or suite. For Europe had now discovered a new art, that of instrumental music. Madrigal music, ‘apt for voices and violls,’ had been performed by instruments only; and then dance tunes were played without reference to dancing. When a galliard followed a pavan for the sake of contrast in rhythm, the suite became inévitable.
The Italian school, with its mastery of the violin, smoothed the marked rhythms into
cantabile
effects, while the harpsichord demanded the unmodified beats of the dance.
Herein may be celebrated another triumph for dance music, if attention to one or another detail of art is to be commended. This phase certainly served the purpose of assisting composers and instrumentalists to technical perfection; Of even more importance, though more gradual, was the influence of dance music upon the sonata form, and afterwards on the symphony.
At first the sonata owed its birth to the madrigal, but in the course of development it discarded the contrapuntal character in three out of its four movements, and substituted dance forms.
Ultimately the order of rhythmic motions which constituted any certain dance was made to give way to a fusion of the rhythmic elements. Only the minuet and trio were retained in their proper forms—until the scherzo supplanted them; and the rondo appeared as the last movement.
In the meantime the dance had invaded the stage. Perhaps a beginning had been made when Beaujoyeulx produced, and dedicated to Henri III. of France, a ballet in which he had blended together poetry, music, and dancing, giving to dancing the first place. His music was judged by Burney to be very poor, and little was thought about the music of ballets until Lulli transformed the French opera into a collection of dance measures. One of his minuets is appended; it is quoted by F. L Schubert in his ‘Tanzmusik’ as the oldest known example of the measure (1663):
Example
15
The mania lasted in Paris for fully a century, and, was combated by Gluck on behalf of true dramatic art. An indication of the same mania was experienced in England in 1727, when the ‘Beggar’s Opera' first saw the light. It was a mere collection of broadly marked ballad and dance tunes, without
In the meantime the Poles had developed their naturally graceful people's dances, of which Engel gives an example—
Example
16
Example
17
Many accented notes and the closing one fall upon the weak beat of the bar:—
Example
18
Chopin has treated the mazurka, as well as the polonaise, with a wealth of imagination all his own, breathing into the courtly dance such poignant melancholy that all the Paris of his day suffered from depression of spirits. Ehlert says of the mazurkas: ‘In these pieces the deepest heart-sorrow draws
In the same way Schumann idealised the waltz and other German dance rhythms. And presently there came the Renaissance of dance music in Germany, with the compositions of Lanner, the elder Strauss, and other Austrians. Their art of instrumentation, and their knowledge of form, invested the waltz with a charm that the mere dance lacks when performed to a succession of tonic, dominant, and sub-dominant chords, with a weak tune on the top, heard one season, and never asked for again. These Viennese composers were earnest enough to read the tendencies of the time; they translated the sensuous and restless moods of the age into artistically perfect musical pictures, inspiring the excitement of pleasure. Ambros fixes 1835 as the height of the waltz period.
An example follows of a Bavarian dance of the beginning of the century. The fresh and graceful Zwiefache, or series of odd and even dances, have sudden changes of time, and were said to be very fascinating to clever dancers.
Example
19
They present difficulties akin to those of 5-4 movements, and others more or less irregular. In their light may fade away Tartini's eighteenth-century prejudice against music composed of five equal notes in a bar, of which he said ‘no musician had yet been able to play it.’ The most conspicuous instance of success in composition and execution of this 5-4 time occurs in the second movement of Tschaïkowski's Pathetic Symphony.
When Italian opera escaped from the influence of French ballet composers, it became a hybrid music, still jerky in measure and unconnected with the words and actions of the piece. The melodies had no root in genuine people's music, and were treated in a highly artificial manner by genius gone astray. One test of the popularity of such operatic airs lay in their suitability for arrangement in quadrilles. So-called sacred pieces shared the same fate, and one famous composition of the kind reached its proper sphere when arranged as a society dance; but this marked the low-water level of sacred music.
The fact that the dance was thus supplied with tunes from other branches of musical art may have been a sign of exhaustion in the art of dance music, as well as frivolity and cheap sentiment in the Italian opera of that period.
But in the meantime a new blossom of art opened side by side with the dead leaves. Great masters turned from the insipidities of convention to the well of music undefiled, namely, national music. Haydn seized upon this raw material of scale and rhythm, and raised it by his happy genius into forms of haunting beauty in his symphonies. Partly from carelessness, partly from true instinct, he let many of these airs stand almost unaltered. Wagner was too severe in complaining that Haydn idealised too little, and left the popular dance tunes to strike an impression of narrowness, local colour, even vulgarity. Haydn left the creator's task to Beethoven, who brought to perfection the treatment of folk dances, and sealed with his genius the inspiration of simple people.
Fired by so great an example, modern composers bring their highly-wrought musicianship to bear on simple and pure themes. A noble rivalry for their most ideal and therefore truest presentation exists between writers such as Brahms, Dvorák, Smetana, Villiers Stanford, in quartet, symphony, and other forms.
A suggestion of poetical significance has been thrown out by Dr. Parry, whose views on the origin of instrumental music
The books and references to dance music used in this chapter include—
Day, ‘The Music of Southern India,’ &c. 1891. Rowbotham, ‘History of Music’ (
Ambros, ‘Geschichte der Musik.’ Breslau, 1862. Chorley, ‘National Music of the World’ (
‘The Harmonicon,’ 1823. Engel, ‘Introduction to the Study of National Music,’ 1866. Smith, ‘Through Romany Songland’ (
Burney, ‘History of Music.’ Chappell [Woolridge], ‘Popular Music of the Olden Time’ (
Stainer and Barrett, ‘Dictionary of Musical Terms’ (
Playford, ‘The Dancing Master,’ 1652, and later editions. Schubert, F. L, ‘Die Tanzmusik.’ Ungewitter, ‘Die Tanzmusik.’ Grove's ‘Dictionary,’ with valuable articles by Dr. Parry, Mr. Barclay Squire, Mr. Corder, and others, on this subject (
Bentley), 1885, 1893.Sampson Low &, Co.), 1880.David Stott), 1889.Chappell & Co.)Novello & Co.)Macmillan):
Dancing
as it was practised in 1845 differs greatly from dancing as it is carried on in 1895 in the ballrooms of London society, Some few of those who now look on at the entertainments and amusements of this generation from the vantage post of the chaperon's bench can recall their own experience of the earlier period of Queen Victoria's reign. The balls at Almack's certainly made and ruled the fashion in dances from the date of their first existence in 1765 until their final extinction about the year 1840—1. These assemblies were held at the rooms in King Street, St. James's, known at the present time as Willis's Rooms, which, however, took their first name from the original proprietor, Mr. Almack. The opening of these rooms is alluded to by Horace Walpole and also by Guy Williams, another gossiping letter-writer of that time. The former writes on February 14, 1765, to Lord Hertford, that the rooms were open in such an unseasoned state that the ceilings were dripping wet, but the Duke of Cumberland was among the company. Williams wrote to Selwyn that there were three elegant, new-built rooms, and that for a ten-guinea subscription you may enjoy a ball and a supper once a week for twelve weeks; and in writing again he pictures ‘Almack's Scotch face in a bag wig. Waiting at supper would divert you as would his Lady in a sack making Tea and curtesying to the Duchesses.’
The lady patronesses of this social institution were absolute
D Dne plus ultra
of fashionable entertainments. In those days a voucher for Almack's, only obtained from one of the six lady patronesses, was the aim and object of all who wished to shine in the mystic circle of the ultra-fashionable clique of London society; and an introduction to one of these great ladies was a matter of most anxious importance. The very stringent code of rules which guarded these gatherings from the intrusion of anyone outside the privileged circle was drawn up by Lady Jersey and her co-patronesses, and an admission was fraught with great difficulties. Each lady could only give a certain number of vouchers, and only the quintessence of aristocracy were present, while it was said three-fourths of the nobility knocked in vain at the portals of Almack's. Colonel Gronow states that, though there were three hundred Guardsmen going about town, not more than half a dozen ever succeeded in obtaining a voucher. Lady Jersey is described as a theatrical tragedy queen, presiding over these reunions, ‘into whose sanctum sons of commerce never intrude.’ A stern rule also forbade the admittance of anyone after midnight had struck, and when the Duke of Wellington appeared at the door a few minutes after the prescribed hour he was refused admittance.
These two facts speak for themselves of the different state of things in reference to balls then and now. The idea of refusing admittance at such a comparatively early hour will strike the present generation as quaint. In addition to Lady Jersey, the leaders of fashion who supported her included Ladies Sefton, Cowper, Castlereagh, Princess Esterhazy, Countess Lieven, and the late Lady Willoughby De Eresby; and they met in solemn conclave to consider the petitions for admission. In 1815 the
The First Quadrille at Almack'scontredanse
, Scotch reels and jigs (said to have been introduced into London by Jane, Duchess of Gordon, when in the zenith of her youth and beauty she came down from Scotland after her marriage), were the establishedcachet
of approval upon the new dance. The first night on which it was danced, Lady Jersey, Lady Harriet Butler, Lady Susan Ryder, and Miss Montgomery, with Count Aldegarde, Mr. Montgomery, Mr. Harley, and Mr. Montague for their partners, made up the first set that was ever seen in London. The
(
Taken from ‘Le Bon Genre’ Prints, published at the end of the Eighteenth Century
)Pas de basque, Chassezcroisez
, with the regulation
Balancé
and
Poussette
, as it had been in the past century to grapple with the minute etiquette of the Menuet de la Cour or Gavotte; nor was it till long after the writer's own
début
that the lazy, nonchalant fashion of walking through the figures was at all tolerated. Queen
D D 2
Having now established a new dance from across the Channel, we next hear of the ‘mazy waltz’ coming in from Vienna, and find that as early as 1816 it was danced at Almack's by a few very bold spirits; among these were mentioned, as being very expert, the names of Lord Palmerston and Madame de Lieven, Princess Esterhazy and Baron de Neumann, who were constantly dancing together. One or two old prints represent these leaders of fashion starting to waltz in Willis's Rooms. By degrees these assemblies became gradually less fashionable and less popular, Society was content to meet at friends' houses, the number of ball-giving hostesses increased so rapidly that subscription balls were no longer patronised, and thus, after an existence of ninety years, Almack's died away. A late attempt to resuscitate similar gatherings was a distinct failure; still, for many years the fine suite of rooms was in requisition for some special entertainment got up for charity, which was often patronised and attended by royalty. When one recalls the rank and beauty of English society that from time to time have met within the walls of Willis's Rooms, the spot may be called almost historical. The famous Caledonian Ball was always held here up to the last ten years, but this annual ‘gathering of the clans’ was at length transferred to the New Club, Covent Garden, and more recently to the Whitehall Room, Hotel Métropole.
The waltz, when first introduced in London, was a slowtrois temps
, and very different from that which we recognise in this latter part of the century.
The first appearance of the polka in 1844 created no little excitement, and some of the newspapers of the day, in alluding to it, said that ‘its introduction into fashionable society may be regarded as the commencement of a new style in the art of dancing. Russia and Bohemia are said to be responsible for its origin. The style of dancing the polka varies considerably, as the most graceful persons dance it in a quiet easy manner, but the movement of this elegant and fashionable dance still continues, and will most likely increase in time.’
The dance is treated in its proper place, and it will be perceived that the writer quoted was incorrect in attributing responsibility for its origin to Russia.
Who changes the order of things in dancing is quite as great a mystery as who is the priestess that presides over the creation of new fancies and fashions in dress, and demands the sacrifice at her shrine of so many fond ideas of what was once the ideal in dress or custom; but steadily and surely the alterations creep in, by slow degrees the old
trois-temps
waltz died out, and the
deux temps
usurped its place and reigned in triumph, until pushed aside again by that which has since been adopted.
While these gradual changes in round dances went on, another new dance sprang into life during the season of 1850.fin de siècle
dance as we know it; there was indeed a certain stately grace about it which is entirely lost. Steps and figures were most carefully gone through; it soon became most popular, but, as the number of those who attempted it increased, the rigid observance of the original figures was soon dispensed with, and the alterations have certainly changed its whole style. It is amusing to read over the published directions given in 1850, in a fashionable newspaper, as to the ‘etiquette of dancing the lancers.’
‘This elegant dance, denominated as “Hart's set,” when well executed, is one in which the dancer can display his skill to great advantage,’ the critic says. ‘It consists of four couples arranged vis-à-vis, and the figures were thus danced:—1st figure, “La Chîne.” The leading lady and opposite gentleman QUEEN CHARLOTTE'S BIRTH-NIGHT BALL AT ST. JAMES'S
(
From an Engraving after Daniel Dodd
)
The orchestras of years gone by were led by Weippart, Jullien and Koenig, Labitzky, Coote and Tinney; whilst a Strauss was then, as now, considered the master of the art of composing waltzes and polkas, as well as of leading the orchestra for dancing. ‘Strauss's band’ is still with us, and yet, at the time of the Queen's coronation in 1837, we know that his band was engaged to play at Almack's, and that the waltz music of this talented artist created a perfect
furore
. The eider Strauss must have long ceased to wield the bâton, but the prophet's mantle surely fell on his successor, for the Strauss of to-day is in no way inferior to him who ruled the orchestra in 1839.
While recalling the bails and dances of other times, one contrasts the arrangements of the royal entertainments at Buckingham Palace with those given by Her Majesty soon after her accession, in what was then the new royal residence. Prior to that time Court balls, as well as Drawing Rooms and Levées, were held at St. James' Palace, but the
entrée
to these receptions was strictly limited to the Court circle and the most important and illustrious members of the aristocracy. Very quaint old records and pictures of some of these entertainments are still extant. The reception rooms at Buckingham Palace have been greatly enlarged by the addition of the magnificent ballroom and corridors, an alteration quite essential
Reference to some old records reveals the fact that a so-called cotillon was known in the reign of George IV. A public breakfast was given by the Prince Regent at Carlton House, when 600 guests were present. Nine marquees were erected, and various amusements provided; four bands played during the afternoon; comic entertainments were performed by the best actors of the day, and after refreshment the company danced on a beautiful lawn, his Royal Highness the Prince leading out Lady Waldegrave, and ‘all frequently changed partners and grouped into cotillons, all being over by six o'clock.’ This is certainly not a cotilion as now understood, though the change of partners tells of some sort of similarity. A good cotillon is often considered a very popular and excellent wind-up dance at a ball. Perhaps one of the most noticeable cotillons ever danced was at the famous ball given by the Brigade of Guards to the Prince and Princess of Wales on June 26, 1863, a ball scarcely ever equalled in magnificence. The second great International Exhibition was over, and the vast building standing empty in Cromwell Road was secured for the entertainment. The decorations and general arrangements were carried out by the committee of officers chosen for the purpose, and with a most brilliantly successful result. The immense galleries were transformed into a series of magnificent reception rooms, one of the largest was devoted to dancing, and on this occasion Mr. Godfrey, the well-known bandmaster, composed his most popular waltz, ‘The Guards' Waltz,’ which was the delight of ball-goers for some years. Notwithstanding the size of the ballroom, it was densely crowded till a very late (or early) hour, and a cotillon begun after two o'clock had not finished till the clock had struck five. The numbers who had stayed to join it may be estimated by the fact that
chairs all round this enormous room were required to seat the dancers. Like everything else, the cotillon of thirty years ago was very different from that which is now given, where entertaining is on a lavish and extravagant scale. The figures were simple, they could be danced without all the accessories now considered
With the immense increase of society and the crowds which fill most London houses, dancing has certainly undergone great changes; it would be quite impossible to dance quadrilles or lancers as was once imperative in good society, and they are now walked through in lazy fashion, even at Court balls. Waltzing still holds its own; it is quite as popular as when first introduced at Almack's, and it is always a pleasure to watch those who excel in the art when, to the fascinating music written by the best composers, the well-matched couple float by with all the poetry of motion.
One can hardly write of dancing as it was without a few words on what must always be one of the accessories of a dance, now frequently considered as the first necessity—a good supper! Thirty and forty years ago, the mysterious invitation to a ‘Thé Dansant’ informed the invited guests that only light refreshments would be provided, and it also suggested that the music would not comprise an orchestral band, but the more modest piano and cornet; still, the invitations were accepted, and those who went to dances for dancing's sake were satisfied, which would hardly be the case now that such elaborate suppers are considered the crucial test of a good or a bad ball. Whether the art of dancing has deteriorated or the enjoyment of dances has decreased is an open question, and beyond the province of one who only recalls the past and contrasts it with the present, having shared the past and being still an interested spectator.
There
can be no question that the balls now given in London far excel those of former days in many important particulars. Modern taste and appliances enable hostesses to make a far more picturesque display than was formerly possible. Every detail is considered, and the most is made of the house to conduce to the pleasure and enjoyment of the guests. The use of flowers in the adornment of ballrooms, especially of the beautiful palms which are to be had at a very moderate expense, is quite a modern feature, and a very charming one. Though no light can compare with myriads of wax candies when well protected and well diffused throughout the ball-room, still the electric light of these days has added greatly to the brilliancy and effect, particularly of large halls. Again, the instrumental bands which supply the very best music simply vie with one another in the excellence of their performance, and far surpass anything known earlier in the century. Another very important detail contributing to the success of a ball is the supper and wine; and it is the rarest exception when both these are not of the very best, served at round tables in the greatest comfort, instead of there being a scramble for food at a buffet, as often happened in less luxurious days.
Balls given in country houses are quite as well done as in London. The ‘stately homes Of England’ are perhaps even better adapted for the purposes of entertaining than London houses, excepting of course the great establishments, such as
In spite of all that goes to make balls so delightful, it is doubtful if they are enjoyed by the majority of those present as they used to be, or certainly as much as they might be. Balls may be considered from two points of view—from that of the entertainers and the entertained. It has been stated thatpropos
of this, a very great lady said one evening to a Royal Duchess—both ladies are dead, but they were well known to many still living—‘Do you not think, madam, that the manners of the present day have very much deteriorated? The young men come forward, and, instead of asking for the honour of a dance, they say, “Have a square? Dance the next round?”’ This offhand style is not perhaps so common as it was a few years back, still the deterioration of manners is very much animadverted upon by those who remember the past generation.
In considering the reason for this overcrowding of rooms, the solid phalanx of black coats to be seen drawn up across the ball-room or filling up the doors is partly the cause of it. This, of course, refers to the average-sized London house, as in the great London palaces the question of numbers hardly matters at all. If people crowd together, it is their own fault; but clearly, when a house is of ordinarily moderate size, the number of guests invited is of the greatest importance; and, though itdébutants
and
débutantes
are to be left to a sort of fate or good luck till they get to know a few partners is a stupid and unnecessary custom which ought to be altered. It is well enough for the families who lead in London society, and who can entertain and so make acquaintances as they please; but it makes it very uphill work for those who are not in this fortunate position, and is one of the causes of the dulness of balls and the lack of enjoyment.
At those balls where, besides the host and hostess, there are other members of the family who can introduce partners, make up sets for a quadrille or lancers (not that ugly romp called Margate or Kitchen Lancers, utterly unsuited to a London ball-room), see that those who wish it are taken to supper, and who perform other kind and gracious little acts of the sort, the affair is as cheery and pleasant again as at those melancholy reunions where it seems that everyone is only thinking of his or her own amusement.
Thus far, balls have been considered from the point of view of the ‘entertainers,’ and there is now the side of the ‘entertained.’ Though to make a ball agreeable there should be people of mature age as well as young, balls are mainly intended tended for the young people, and for the unmarried members of both sexes. Delightful as it is, and greatly as it enhances the smartness of a ball to see the married ladies taking their turn in the dance, still it is not the business of their lives.
Probably square dances were abandoned a few years back because of the great crowd which prevented movement, and there was a disposition to stand instead of joining in the different figures. Unless, therefore, people will take the pains to acquire the knowledge of these very simple figures, so that they may easily, courteously, and pleasantly step through the measure, it would be of no advantage to society to dance them again. If at the Court balls and at the great houses in London it was an understood thing that four or five square dances would be given during the evening, and that it was the wish of the ball-givers that all should join in when possible, they would soon become popular again, and would assist enormously to break up the exclusiveness of the dancing of these days, making the guests feel they have occasionally to join in helping to make it all ‘go.’ Introductions would be more easily accomplished. Again, numbers of men and a certain number of girls are incapable of waltzing, and it is a great pity they attempt it. The men who do not dance round dances now keep away from balls altogether, or go to swell the black array of lookers-on, and very soon disappear. Those girls who are not good waltzers have little enjoyment, and soon get tired of balls. It would be impossible in writing about balls not to mention the modern custom of sitting-out, which has come into fashion entirely since there have been nothing but constant round dances. Up to a
Quiet, stately dancing is the only kind suited to such an occasion as a Court ball. The young generation care for nothing but the wildest waltz or polka. There are at every ball good dancers, but, on the other hand, how many who cannot
dance
at all! They can hop and jump and make a great display of physical force, but this is not consistent with good taste, and is certainly not dancing. A proper amount of genuine vigour is suitable to such lively dances as Scotch reels; but even in these the steps should be clearly defined and not merelyas a study
, is sometimes useful, and is now very generally taught as a means of acquiring grace and deportment; but it will be admitted that the due appreciation and feeling for art which enables us to give to every style its own peculiar and legitimate character should also teach us to make the proper and necessary distinction between stage and drawing-room dancing.
‘Lookers-on,’ the proverb says, ‘see most of the game.’ The perpetual dancers are hardly aware how very unbecoming it is to get hot and overdone. There is so much of beauty and of dignity in quiet, graceful movement, that if the stately old-fashioned dances could be reintroduced it would give great pleasure to those who sit by and watch with interest, even if they no longer take much share in the active business of a ball. There can be no question that some of the simple square dances, even if only walked through with due regard to time and measure, would be a great social improvement, and would enable many to take part in balls who are now left out in the cold. Why are those people who cannot waltz, who dislike it—which is by no means uncommon among many of the most charming of both sexes—to be debarred from (actively) participating in bails? Some of them try to waltz when quite incapable of the art, and become a terror to their companions. Then there are those who, no longer so young and active as they once were, still, for the sake of good-fellowship, like to take a share in the gay, bright scene in the ballroom, and
E E
With regard to ‘round’ dancing, there can be but one opinion as to the delight of a waltz danced by a well-matched couple to the strains of one of Strauss's or Waldteufel's or Linka's beautiful tunes. No other dance can be compared to this, and the description of the
valse à trois temps
by Mr. d'Egville (p. 419) will bring back the recollection of many a happy hour to those who have the gift, and with that the necessary training, to enter thoroughly into it.
With the technical description of dances which completes this chapter my brief essay may conclude, after just one word more has been said as to the manners and style of the present day. It is for us who are taking our part in the world around us to watch that, with all our modern advantages, with the happy state of improved social intercourse that has done so much to raise the moral standard of society, we do not let the good old forms and ceremonies slip away from us altogether. They are the means by which the young are taught most valuable lessons, and, above all, a proper and courteous way of behaving towards those older than themselves.
Dance well if you do it at all; go out into the world; enjoy yourself as best as you can, and all the better because you must remember you have a share in helping towards the enjoyment of Others. It seems now to be taken for granted that everyone can dance, and that no teaching is necessary. This book upon dancing will prove the fallacy of this idea. Again, people talk of old-fashioned manners as if good manners ought ever to be. out of fashion. There is simply not enough
On the subject of the
Valse Polka Polka-mazurka Galoptempi
to be observed in dance music, I am enabled to add an authoritative word, as it is dictated by that most distinguished composer, Herr Eduard Strauss. In a letter now before me the Austrian musician (after commenting on the untrustworthiness of the metronome because of its tendency to slow down) gives the following scale:—
Maelzel metronome
The most popular and delightful of all modern ballroom dances is undeniably the waltz
à trois temps
. The
tempo
of this dance should be as nearly as possible that observed by Edward Strauss when conducting his own or his gifted brother's waltzes. This
tempo
is marked but moderate, affording ample time to make three distinct movements for each bar of waltz-time. The step should consist of sliding movements in which the knees play a most important part. Anyone who cannot use his knees quickly and yet gently will always remain a hard, uncomfortable waltzer. The weight of the body must necessarily be taken into account while the steps are being formed, and it is just the quiet and skilful disposition or management of this weight which constitutes the greatest difficulty in waltzing and
E E 2
All who would excel in waltzing should acquire complete mastery over the reverse turn. To move about gracefully and agreeably in a crowded ballroom will be quite impossible to those who cannot waltz equally well in all directions—i.e. forwards and backwards without turning, also to the right, in the ordinary way of turning, and to the left in the reverse turn. Reversing the turn but waltzing the right way of the room is also extremely useful, and turning to the right but travelling the left way of the room is, similarly, also of service. Pivoting and crossing the feet will be necessary for the successful performance of these variations in the reverse turn. All this should be quietly and unobtrusively performed, so that all semblance of display may be completely avoided. Hopping or jumping is both inelegant and tiring, though a certain amount of spring from the knees suits the dancing of some people, but not all. In any case the feet should never leave the floor. A very tall man hopping and lifting his feet while twirling round presents a truly grotesque appearance. This comical effect is increased by dancing beyond the
tempo
—i.e, too fast. Some girls waltz equally well and look lighter by dancing on the ball of the foot or ‘half-point.’ When this is the case there is no harm in keeping the heels raised; but this effect is not admissible for a man. Walking slowly up the room and occasionally breaking into a listless waltz is a vulgar and ridiculous manner of spoiling the true waltz. I have often wondered how a lady could ever consent to be made to look so supremely absurd as she certainly does when pushed along in this waddling, dawdling fashion. This objectionable innovation is, I fear, an English one. Truly it is not a happy one. Some of the American variations on the waltz
à trois temps
are agreeable and effective, but ‘Hop-waltz,’ ‘Slow-waltz,’ and ‘Lurch’ are abominations. The waltz may, with certain modifications or alterations in the rhythm, be danced to the music of nearly all the other round dances. Instead, then, of shelving the charming polkas, mazurkas, and marches of Gungl', Strauss, Waldteufel, and many other distinguished foreign composers, they might well be occasionally played for waltzing, and thus infuse more suitable variety and vitality into modern ball room dances than exist at present.
The polka is an easy, cheerful dance, with an exhilarating rhythm about it, which probably accounts to a great extent for the inelegant ‘rollicking’ manner in which some people dance it. If properly performed, it is, however, less fatiguing than the waltz, while the difference of rhythm affords a pleasant change from the clockwork-like movement of the latter dance. In polka time there are four beats (quavers) in the bar, to which three steps are made, with a rest on the fourth beat. On the third beat one foot should be sharply drawn up behind the other, allowing the point only to touch the floor, but never entirely leaving the floor. Here, again, the principal difficulty will be to transfer the weight of the body from the foot that follows on to the one which has formed the step, without jerking or jarring. Some people are content to make three stamping movements do duty for the polka. This is ugly, but easily learnt. Avoid throwing the weight upon the leg which forms the step, and turn the knees outwards. The polka may be danced forwards and backwards and reversed, like the waltz. There are some variations which may be introduced with advantage. Of these, the so-called ‘Ostend Polka’ and ‘American’ or ‘Side-step Polka’ are among the best. The pupil should know that new and bewildering names are frequently given to old and well-known variations of both the waltz and the polka. The positions of the dancers were, on the introduction of the polka in the ‘thirties,’ similar to those taken in Polish character dances; but for the last forty or fifty years the fashion has been for the gentleman to hold his partner in the same manner as in the waltz and other round dances. In any case, Observe an erect position of the figure, avoid jumping, and also the ridiculous habit of stamping.
This charming dance possesses a
cachet
of its own, and ought most certainly to find a place in every ballroom. For reasons not to be explained one never sees it danced in England; but in Vienna and Budapest it is a fashionable dance both at Court and at public balls, where the enjoyment of it is considerably enhanced by the dainty and beautiful music which Austrian and Hungarian composers have written for it. The polka-mazurka contains a mazurka step joined to the polka, andà deux temps
may be interpolated occasionally by way of variation; but this must be done with judgment and skill, or the effect may prove uncomfortable for the dancers, though, no doubt, amusing to the onlookers.
These figure dances, commonly called ‘Squares,’ were very popular and fashionable many years ago, when it was the custom to introduce
glissades, chassés
, and other movements into the various figures. They are still often danced, or rather walked, tempo on the Continent, but in England they are for the most part dealt with in a somewhat contemptuous or occasionally apologetic manner. Under existing circumstances the result is chaotic and bungling, and no wonder then that the mere mention of ‘Squares’ should be enough to alarm all lovers of genuine dancing. This is certainly not as it should be; for if people would only take the trouble to acquire a correct knowledge of the five simple figures of both dances, and endeavour, moreover, to walk them smartly and strictly in time, bringing the feet well together at the end of their phrases, they would discover that a good deal of hitherto unknown satisfaction may be got out of these old but neglected friends, the quadrille and the lancers.
These and other old-fashioned dances are effective both on the stage and in the drawing-room, and are, moreover, extremely useful in the class-room as a means of teaching balance and quiet grace. As every ballet-master or teacher of dancing invents or puts together his own version of these dances, it is, under existing circumstances, impossible to include them in ball-programmes, because of the entire absence of unanimity which would prevail as to movements, figures, &c. The ‘Menuet de la Cour,’ arranged by Gardel for Queen Marie Antoinette, is a noble, stately dance, very useful as a study, THE PAS DE QUATRE
The gavotte is a dainty rhythm, considerably livelier than either of the two dances just noticed. A capital arrangement, suitable in every way for either drawing-room or stage performance, is the ‘Kaiserin Gavotte,’ which comes from Berlin, where it has been danced at the Court balls with great success. The ‘Gavotte de Vestris’ is a difficult dance composed by the
protégé
of Frederic the Great. It can only be effectively performed by those who possess very neat execution, and is therefore, perhaps, best left to professional dancers.
Scotch dances are picturesque to look at, amusing to dance, and afford excellent practice. Vigour and sharpness must be freely employed informing the various steps, while the general Scotch characteristics of their performance should never be lost sight of. There are two
tempi
chiefly used in Scotch dancing—viz, the quick or reel
tempo
and the slow or strathspey
tempo
. To the former, short, sharp sliding movements are danced; to the latter, hopping, lifting, pointing, and turning movements such as those of the ‘Highland Fling’ and ‘Sword dance’ are executed. The figures of the ‘reel,’ ‘Hooligan’ and ‘eightsome,’ are simple enough; it is the steps that require special attention and practice. The pipers of some regiments are adepts in this style of dancing, but not always satisfactory as teachers, because they lack that power of dissection which enables a first-rate professor to pull every step to pieces, demonstrate its composition bit by bit as required, and also explain its due relation to the music. Those who essay Scotch dancing should be able to dance at least four slow and four quick steps, otherwise their performance will be monotonous.
The pas de quatre is a lively dance composed of an old Scotch lilt and the old schottische hops. As it is essentially a dance for two people, the name ‘pas de quatre’ is a misnomer.
The cotillon, properly speaking, is more a game than a dance, more suitable for children than for grown men and women. It can hardly be called a dance, but cannot be omitted from this volume, as it finds such a prominent place in so many ball-rooms.
It certainly is not a British pastime: there is something absurd in the thought of an Englishman, clad in his full armour of evening dress and starched linen, going down on his knees before a lady and gravely wiping out his own image from a looking-glass. The cotillon is a French dance, and for that reason I will give the names of the figures in French.
Once it was a solo dance; it then became a duet dance; from a duet dance it became one of the many
rondes
of France, accompanied by the song:
Ma commàre, quand je danse
Mon cotillon va-t-il bien?
The word ‘cotilion’ is a short skirt, and in its ancient dance form it may be looked upon as one of the old French
LE BAL PAREÉbranles
. As such it was introduced into England, where it became a
(
From an Engraving after A de St. Austin
)
The cotillon has created quite a new industry. There are now several firms whose chief business it is to manufacture the many accessories by which hosts and hostesses of to-day bribe their guests to come to their balls. Forty or fifty years ago only, a cotillon consisted of simple figures with accessories at hand, such as cushion and mirror, handkerchief and chair, &c. The leader of the cotillon had then to be not only nimble of feet but fertile of brain. After consulting with his hostess and
The Cotillon
(
After F. Collett
)
Many hundreds of figures might be described here, but of the number I will choose a few, hoping thus to be of help to arrangers of cotillons. At the same time it must be remembered that on the individual organising of the figures, and the fun and frolic with which they are performed, depend the success of the cotillon; and so, to begin with, I will mention a few figures which need no accessories.
La Conversation.—The leader introduces two dancers to a lady. Both must address her in one single sentence, and she will bestow the favour of a dance on the man who has been able to please her most.
Le Mouchoir.—A lady will knot one corner of her handkerchief; her partner introduces four men to her, who each choose a corner of the handkerchief. The lucky one is he who has found the knot.
La Trompeuse.—A lady advances towards a man and invites him to dance, but just as he accepts the honour with much pleasure, she whirls round suddenly and dances off with another partner. This figure may be reversed.
Les Dames Cachées.—Several ladies hide behind a curtain in which there is an opening; they each put out a hand, and gentlemen go up to this curtain, choose a hand, and are permitted to waltz with its owner.
Le Huit entre Deux Chaises.—A figure 8 is described around two chairs, placed back to back in the middle of the room.
Les Quatre Coins.—Four ladies rise from their seats, and each of them stands in a corner. The leader and four men perform a wild round in the centre of the room; after a few turns they separate, and each rushes towards a lady: the fifth has to console himself as best he can and to return to his place.
Le Fandango.—Four men go to a corner each and bend one knee. Four ladies perform the
chaîne des dames of the quadrille with them.
L'Artichaut.—All form chain and take hands and wind round the leading couple; the last reverse the order and unwind the chain. A general waltz finishes the figure.
La Finale.—The leading couple and all the other couples place themselves as for a polonaise, and all walk up and salute the hostess. The first couple lift up arms, and all the others have to pass through this archway before bowing.
Among the figures with accessories I will not mention the cushion, the fan, the bouquet, the mirror, the ribbons, &c., which are well known, but those which are perhaps less familiar and at the same time are easy to perform.
Pile ou Face.—The lady asks for head or tail; a coin is thrown, and if she wins a dancer will waltz with her, if she loses he will pass on to another lady.
Le Parapluie.—Two partners are brought to a lady; she gives an umbrella to one and she dances with the other. He of the umbrella has to hold it open over the waltzing couple, and follow them thus through the whole figure.
La Pêche à la Ligne.—A lady holds a fishing-rod and line at the end of which hangs a biscuit; several men are brought up to her, they kneel before her and must try and catch the biscuit with their teeth. He who is sufficiently skilful has the honour of dancing with the fair angler.
La Loterie.—Several presents are placed on a table; the leader gives some numbers to the dancing men, who in their turn offer one to each lady; each leads his partner towards the object she has won, and waltzes with her.
Le Chevalier de la Triste Figure.—A lady holds a lighted taper in her hand; two men invite her to dance; she gives the lighted taper to one of them and dances with the other. He of the taper must follow them with it lighted throughout the figure.
Les Ballons.—Three ladies stand in the middle of the room, each holding a small air-ball; the cotillon leader and a number of men dance around the ladies; at a given signal they each make a grab for an air-ball; those who succeed may dance with a lady, the others return, crestfallen, to their seats.
Steeplechase.—An equal number of men and women stand opposite each other in lines. The leader arrives with his partner, and between them they hold a small hedge; the men must jump over it before they may waltz with the ladies.
Le Chasse à Courre.—A lady sits at the far end of a room, and the leader places small obstacles, such as footstools, all over the room. Two men are invited by him to compete for the honour of waltzing with the lady; they must hop on one foot over the obstacles, and he who arrives first becomes the fortunate partner of the lady.
Le Postillon.—The cotillon leader gives to his partner a large collar ornamented with bells; he and other men dance around her, and she places the collar around the neck of the man with whom she wishes to dance. This figure is lively, especially if danced to the tune of a polka.
From the above it will be seen that no special description of the cotillon can be written. Inventiveness and high spirits, aided by flirtation, and perhaps by a spice of malice, are the best tutors. Women like the cotillon, and, to do them justice, not
ABY
Abyssinia, the Tigritiya, 72, 342; funeral dance of, 79; sacred dances, 118
Accompaniments of the dance.
See Dance. songs
and Instrumental accompaniments
‘Acta Joannis,’ reference in, to our Lord and the Apostles dancing, 94
Adam, Adolphe, 370
Æschylus, and the art of gesture and scenic dancing, 39; dances in his dramas, 48
Afghan circular dance, 85, 86
Africa, tribal dances of, 78, 82, 88
After-dinner dances of the Middle Ages, 133
Agonalia, the, 62
Ain, dance-song of the, 271
Air de la Clochette, 246
Aïssasoua, religious dance of the, 119
Albanian dances, 53–58
Albert, the late Prince Consort, 404
‘Albion's Triumph,’ seventeenthcentury masque, 138
Aldegarde, Count, in the first quadrille at Almack's, 403
Aleutian islanders, mimetic dance of, 68
Alexander III. of Scotland, legend of his marriage feast, 181
ANI
Algeria, religious dance of the Aïssasoua, 119
Alleman, the, 309
Allemande, the, 299, 395
Almack, Mr., 401
Almack's, first drawing-room polka danced at, 230; opening of, 401; the lady patronesses, 401, 402; difficulty of obtaining admission to, 402; the first quadrille, 403; introduction of the waltz, 404; decline in popularity, and closing of, 404
Almain, the, 299
Alman, the, 395
America, dances of.
See North
America, South America, &c. American polka, 421
American quadrille, 283
‘An old man is a bed full of bones,’ old English dance, 154
‘Ancient’ dances of China, 352
Andalusia, dances of, 318, 322, 331
Anderson, Dr., In a Burmese death dance, 76
Anglo-Saxon dances, 128; the gleemen's feats and dances, 128–130, 136; character of 129
Animals, dances in imitation of, 52, 67, 78, 84, 128
Animals, dancing of, 7, 129, 228
ANN
Anne of Austria, 328
Annen Polka, the, 405
Anthema, the, 50
Apports, village feasts of Berri, 274
Apupo, the, 308
Arab dances, 307
Aragon, dances of, 330
Arascabilaire dancers, 217
Araucanians, dance of the, 82
Archmimes of Roman funeral dances, anecdotes of, 62
Argentine, ceremony of the Pehuenches for exorcising sickness, 73
Arnaöut, the, 53–58
Artemis, festivals of, 47, 52
Asia Minor, dances of, 58
Assyrian mummers, 24
Aston, 394
Asturians, dances of the, 319
Atholl, Duke of, 412
Auber, 343
Augustus, Emperor of Rome, great development of dancing in his reign, 63
Auresca, the, 314
Australia, the Korroborae, 82, 90–92; native battle dance, 389
Autos, dances joined to, 310, 329
Auvergne, dances and dance-songa of, 271, 272
Awálim, dancing-women of ancient Egypt, 16
Azores, dances of the, 308, 309
‘
Bab at the Bowster,’ Scottish dance, 185
Baccelli, Giovanna, 372
Bacchu-ber, the, 274
Bach, 343
Bagpipes, Scottish, 183; Irish, 199
Baile de los Seises, 106
Bailes, 106, 309, 319; and danzas, distinction between, 326
Bailes llanos ó tonadillas, 319
BAL
Baillie, Miss, in a Scotch reel before the Queen (1849), 408
Baixa, the, 308
Balada, 308
Baladines, 245
Balaléica, the, Russian musical instrument, 238
Balan, French dancer, 363
Bailatoria, or Choraria, covered places in front of churches, for mystery plays, 97
Ballet, the oldest known, 10; in Russia, 239; in Italy, 332; uncertainty of its origin, 360; in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, 361–363; moral ballets, 363; training for the, 363–365; costume, 365, 380; famous dancers of the eighteenth century, 365–369; a Covent Garden programme (1734), 368; at the King's Theatre (afterwards Her Majesty's), 369, 370; in Vienna, 370; Grisi and Elssler, 370; choregraphy at rehearsals, 370; Giovanna Baccelli, 372; present condition of, 378–380; music, 396
Ballet Comique de la Reyne, 361
Ballet de la Cour, 362
Ballet de la Royne, 246, 247
Ballet des Matelots, 301
Ballet-pantomime, the first, 363; of ancient Greece, 50
Ballets Ambulatoires, 307
Ball-playing dances, 16, 20, 68, 99
Ball suppers, 410, 411
Balls, hostesses and guests, 411; decoration of the rooms, 411; in country houses, 411; public balls, 412; overcrowding of rooms, 413; ballroom etiquette, 413, 415, 416, 419; introductions, 414; help for the entertainers, 414, 418; inviting guests, 414; selection of dances, 415; result of the abandonment of square dances,
BAL
415; style in dancing, 416, 418
Baltasarini.
See
Beaujoyeulx Barina, the, 220
‘Barnaby,’ dance tune, 170
Barn dance, 379, 423
Basque dances, 8, 217; great number and variety of, 310, 312, 316; the Pordon dantza, 310; village dances under municipal supervision, 312; the Edate, 312, 314, 315; the Mutchíco, or Saut Basque, 313; the Zorzico, 314; dancing in churches in the eighteenth century, 317
Bathyllus, Roman dancer, 63
Battle dance of Australian natives, 389
Batuque, the, 308
Bavaria, dance music of, 398
Bayadères; the, 344–347, 349, 350
Baylata, 308
Bear dance, in honour of Artemis, 52; of North American Indians, 78; of gipsies, 228
Bears, dancing, 129, 130, 228
Beaujoyeulx, 246, 361, 396
Bedouin tribes, sword dance of, 195
‘Bee,’ the, modern Egyptian dance, 22
Beethoven, 370, 399
Beggar's Opera, the, 396
‘Begging’ dance of Dakota indians, 87
Belgium, the dance in, 302
Bells, worn in the Morris dance, 137–139, 186; by gipsy dancers, 218
Benares, religious dances of, 347
Benserade, 362
Bent, Theodore, 52; on the sacred dances of Abyssinia, 118
Berenguer IV., Count Ramon, 319
Bergamasca, the, 333
Bergerette, the, 100, 101
Bergomask, the, 164, 334
BOL
Bergonza de Botta, 332
Berkeley, Miss, 406
Berlin, a royal torch dance, in 1821, 294
Berri, dances of, 271, 274
Berri, Duchesse de, 244
Besançon, an Easter-day sacred dance held at, up to 1738, 100
Beth-ha-shoeba, dance feast of the Israelites, 30
Bhopal egg dance, 347
Biblical references to dancing, 24; described as a symbol of joy, 25, 31; generally mentioned in connection with singing and musical instrumetns, 25, 31; Miriam and Judith leaders of the dance, 25; the dance round the golden calf, 26; the daughters of Shiloh, 26; Jephthah's daughter dancing to her fate, 27; the dances mostly executed by women, 28; David's dance before the Ark, 28; no further records of sacred dancing during his reign, 28; the Amalekites slaughtered while dancing, 28; Salome before Herod, 30
Biniou, a rustic instrument of
Brittany, 266
Birds, dancing of, 7; dances in imitation of, 52, 84
‘Blackberry Blossom,’ ancient dance tune, 206
Blackie, Professor, on the lyrical. drama, 50; on dancing as an act of worship, 93
Boehme's book on German dances, II, 289, 290, 300
Bohemia, the birthplace of the polka, 8; number and variety of the dances, 225; village festivals, 225; sword dance, 226; witches' dance, 226; influence of the Thirty Years' War 227; nomenclature of dances, 227; the Polka, 228–232
Boleras, the, 324
BOL
Bolero, the, 320, 321; music of, 323
Bombay, the dancing women of, 344
Borgia, Lucrezia, 332
Bourrée d'Auvergne, 271, 272
Boys, dancing, of Persia, 351
Braemar annual gathering, 183
Brahms, 399
‘Brangill of Poictu,’ 256
Branle des Ermites, 250
Branle des Lavandières, 250
Branle du Haut Barrois, 249
Branles, 246, 248, 256, 263; varieties of, 249; the ‘rû de rathe,’ 249; of Brittany, 249; branles mimes, 250, 251; branles des flambeaux, 251; French nursery rhymes founded on, 252; of Normandy, 269, 270; the branle carré, 270
Brawl, the, in England, 166; Scotch, 167
Brazil, Central, funeral dances of, 76, 77; straw dancing dress of Indians. 79, 80
Breadalbane, Lord, in a Scotch reel danced before the Queen (1849), 408
Brittany, the branles of, 249; the ‘Pardons,’ 266, 274; a curious old dance, 267; ancient sword dance in honour of the sun, 268; inaugurating a new threshing floor, 268; the dance-songs, 269; belief of the people in fairies and pigmies, 269; ancient New Year custom, 290
Brougham, Lord, Leech's picture of, dancing opposite the woolsack, 231
Buckingham Palace, State balls at, 407, 408
Buddhist Devil dance, 75
Buffalo dance of North American Indians, 67
Burchell, Mr., on the dance of the Bushmen, 89
Burmese death dances. 75, 76
CAT
‘Burning ballet,’ a tragedy at a royal festival (1393), 243, 244
Bushmen, dance of the, 89
Butler, Lady Harriet, in the first quadrille at Almack's, 403
Cachucha, the, 330, 370
Cadiz dancing-girls, 318, 326
Caldron festival of gipsies of the Ottoman empire, 215
Camargo, Madame, 367, 369
Cambridge, Duke of, 404
Canada, festivals of the north-western tribes, 88
Canaïca, the, 241
‘Canary,’ the, 169
Cancan, the, 286, 287
Candiote dance, 53, 274
‘Candle-rush,’ 172
Canroy, Eustache de, 265
Cardinals joining in the dance in the sixteenth century, 332
Carlton House, 409
Carmagnole, the, 285, 286
Carole, the, 131, 292; the name afterwards applied to songs, 131
Carols, 201.
See also Christmas Carols
Carpenters' dance, German, 296
Carrica, the, 316
‘Carrillon de Dunkerque,’ 252
Caryatis, the, 52
Cascarrots, the, 217
Cashel, an eighteenth-century ‘assembly ’ at, 199
Casos, a social dance at, 59
Castanets, Spanish, 8, 376, 385
Castlereagh, Lady, patroness of Almack's, 402
Castro, Inez de, 319
Catalonia, dances of, 310
Cathacks, the, 347
Catherine II. of Russia, fondness of, for the ballet, 239
Catlin on the ‘medicine’ dance of the North American Indians, 73
Cato, licentiousness of Roman dancing denounced by, 64
CAY
Cayenne, death dance of natives, 76
Celebes, Northern, War dance of, 76
Cellarius, M., introducer of the polka into Paris, 229, 230
Cerito, 370
Ceylon, the professional devil dancer of, 75
Chaconne, the, 279, 328
Chacota, the, 308
Chahut, the, 286
‘Chanson d'Cramignon,’ 302
‘Chanson de Robin,’ 146
Charambas, the, 309
Charles I., Court festivities of his reign, 170; his patronage of dancing, 170, 196
Charles II. leading the dance at Whitehall, 166
Charles VI. of France, narrow escape of, in the ‘burning ballet,’ 243, 244
Charles IX. of France, 244, 265, 332
Chateaubriand, on the dancing of savages, 71
Chaucer, quoted, 127, 128, 131, 133, 137, 180, 330
Cheironomia, 38, 326
Cheirosophi, Greek dancers, 38
Cheshire May song, 151
Chesterfield, Lord, 367
‘Chevalier du guet,’ an old French branle, 252
Chili, dances of, 118, 375
Chimney-sweeps' dances, 151
China, the oldest known ballet held in, 10; characteristics of the dances, 352; intimate connection of music and dancing, 352; State dancers, 352; ‘small’ and ‘great’ dances, 352; honours given to dancingmasters, 352; ritual dances, 352–355; hymn tune, 355; Court ceremonial dances, 356
Chopin, 234, 343, 397
Choraria.
See Ballatoria
Choregraphy, the Egyptians the inventors of, 22; choregraphic figure dance of Athens, 46; example of, 371
CON
Chota Nagpore, dances of, 347
‘Christes Kirk of the Grene,’ ballad, 140
Christina, Queen of Sweden, ancient Greek dance performed before, by Professor Meibom, 44
Christmas carols, originally sacred dances, 10; origin of the name, 132; French, 265, 270
Christmas Day festivities, 131; dancing in country churches, 131; splendour of the festivals under the Anglo-Norman kings, 132; in the time of Henry II., 232; in the early part of the sixteenth century, 157; curious Cornish children's custom, 173; sword dances of the north of England, 175
Church, early, dancing allowed by, in the churches, 8; severity of the Fathers against certain dances, 30; dancing a part of the ritual, 94–96; the sexes never mixed in the churches, 96; dancing in churches and churchyards forbidden by the early Councils, 96, 97, 268; introduction of mystery plays, 96
Chyaneros, gipsies of South America, 220
Cicero, dancing denounced by, as licentious, 64
Cinquepas, the, 253, 334
Circular dances, ancient, 25, 36, 85; Scottish, 194; Irish, 194, 200; Polish, 235; Russian, 236; German, 292; Japanese, 359
Clappers, Egyptian, 24, 377
‘Colkelbie Sow,’ or ‘Cowkelbie Sow,’ Scottish ballad, 180
College Hornpipe, 394
Contredances of New England, curious names of, 177
F F
CON
Contredanse, the, 280, 402
Coopers' dance, German, 295
Coote, 407, 408
Coranto, the, 395
Cordax, the, 187
Cornhill, Maypole set up in, 147
Cornwall, the Fadé or Furry dance of Helston, 172; Christmas Eve customs, 173
Corroberee, corroberri.
See Korroborae
Cortez, Ferdinand, 330
Cotillon, the, 409; description of, 424–428
Courante, the, 246, 255, 256
Courts of Love, 248
Courtship dances of savages, 67
Cowper, Lady, patroness of Almack's, 402
Cracovienne, the, 232, 235
Cramignon, the, 302
Crane dance, or Geranos, 45, 46, 53
Cratinus, danced in. his own dramas, 39
Crenay, Madame de, 283
Créqui, Marquise de, 365
Crete, popularity of the ancient dances in, 52
Csárdás, the, 220, 223, 224
‘Cuckolds all Awry,’ 166
Cuisley Ciuil, Irish bagpipe, 201
Cumberland, Duke of (1765), at the opening of Almack's, 401
Curetes (priests of Cybele), martial dance of, 52
Cushion dance, the, 158, 159, 169, 185, 393
Czechs, dances of the, 226
Dædalus, the originator of mixed dances in Greece, 44
Dahomey, dance in honour of visitors, 88
Dakota Indians.
See North American Indians
Dance of Cakes, Russian, 239
Dance of the Hours, Greek representation of, in the Paris Museum, 360
DAN
Dance-songs 5; of Egypt, 17; of the Greeks, 42, 46, 50, 52, of the Zuñis, 84; Scottish, 185, 187, 191; Irish, 201, 202; of Bohemia, 227; of Poland, 232; Russian, 236; French, 251, 265, 269, 271; German, 291, 293; Belgian, 302; Scandinavian, 305; of Portugal, 307; Spanish, 330; of India, 346
Dances, of Egypt, 15; Biblical, 24; of the Jews, after their dispersal, 32; of the ancient Greeks, 34; and Romans, 60; of savages, 65; ritual, 93; English, 124; Scottish, 179; Irish, 198; Welsh, 209; of gipsies, 213; of Europe, 222–343; time and rhythm of, 387; description of, 419.
See also under names of countries and peoples
Dancing, regarded as a frivolous pastime, 1, 12; prejudice against, in Scotland, 1, 182, 183; religious worship the origin of most dances, 2, 7, 10, 24, 95; rhythmic accompaniments of, 4; its alliance with song, 5, 80; the home of true dancing among oppressed nations, 6, 32; a faithful reflection of individual and racial characteristics, 7, 8, 125, 221, 284; indulged in by animals, 7;. perfection of, in ancient Greece, 8, 34; allowed in sacred buildings by the early Christians, 8; character of Oriental, 10; the literature of 10, 11; its morality, 30, 31; conducive to the preservation of health, 72; local forms of, made use of by missionaries, 75, 226; an accessory to religious rites from time immemorial, 93; wide distribution of the circular form, 194; supposed power of, to arrest the effects of the bites of poisonous
spiders, 341, 342, 351; teaching of, 372, 384; accessories of, 376, 426; its practical use, 381; value of regular and systematic training, 384.
See also
Balls
Dancing boys of Persia, 351
Dancing dervishes, 18, 119, 390
Dancing dresses of savages, 79, 80
Dancing girls, Egyptian, 16, 19, 20, 22, 360; of ancient Rome, 64; kept in England in Chaucer's time, 131; gipsy, 213–216, 220; of the East, 213, 214; of Spain, 214, 215, 378, 326; of India, 344; of Persia, 350; of Japan, 356–359
Dancing legend of the fifteenth century, 101
Dancing swords and daggers, 167
Dansa de Donzellas, 310
Dansas dos Espingardeiros, 310
Dansas dos Mariyos, 310
Dansas dos Pratos, 310
Danse au Viriet, the, 248
Danse de la Basse Bretagne, 250
Danses basses, 244, 253, 292, 332
Danses hautes, 244, 292
Danses nobles, 245
Danza Prima, the, 319
Danzas and bailes, distinction between, 326
Danzas habladas, 309
Dargies, 186
Daudet, Alphouse, description of a farandole, 279
Dauphiné, dances of, 274
David, Louis, and Mlle. Guimard, 368
David's dance before the Ark, 27, 28, 94; no further records of sacred dancing during his reign, 28
Davies, Sir John, his poem ‘Orchestra,’ II, 228
Dawson, James, description of the Korroborae, 90–92
ECH
Death dances, 41 of savages, 70, 75, 76; German, 297.
See also
Funeral dances
Delian festival, the, 45, 46
Dervishes, dances of, 18, 119; example of music, 390
Devadâsi, the, 349
Devil dances, 74, 76
Diane de Poitiers, 246
Dibdin, 394
Dickens, Charles, quoted, 171, 286
Dionysos, dances and hymns at the festivals of, 48, 50, 52
Dirk dance, 196
‘Disguising,’ 141
Dom Pedro I., 308, 310
‘Don Giovanni,’ minuet, 370
Double Jigs, 204, 206
Douglas, Lord, in a Scotch reel before the Queen (1849), 408
Dramatic dances of the ancient Greeks, 47, 48
Dreher, original name of the waltz, 299
Drum dance of the Eskimos, 82
Ducasses, 274
Dudak, the, 227
Dugdale, account of the ancient revels at Lincoln's Inn, 155
Dump, the, 164
Dundas, Dr., in a Scotch reel before the Queen (1849), 408
Duprast, 343
[???], 399
Earle, Alice M
., accounts of dancing in New England, 152, 176
Easter dance, Grecian, 58
Easter festival of the ancient Jews, 94
Eastern dances.
See
China, India, Japan, &c.
Eccles, jig composed by, 394
Echternach, dancing procession in honour of St. Willibrord, held at, 103; its probable origin, 104; the modern procession, 104–106
F F 2
EDA
Edate, the, 312, 314, 316
Edward the Martyr, curious story of the murder of, 129
Edward VI., 157
Edwards, Mr. Sutherland, on modern Russian dancing, 240
Egg dance, English, 129; of Holland, 300; of Valencia, 326; Indian, 347
Egypt, dancing a part of the religion, 15, 93; representations of dancing on the monuments of, 15, 17, 19, 20, 23; inaccuracy of ancient Greek writers on Egyptian dancing, 15; dances in honour of the dead, 15, 19; rhythmic accompaniements of labour, 16; ball-playing dance, 16, 20; the dancing women of ancient Egypt, 16, 17, 20–22; dances accompanied by trained song-stresses, 17; village festivals and dervish parties, 18; the dancing dervishes, 19, 119, 120; the art forbidden to the higher classes, and taught to slaves 20; adopted as a profession by low-class freemen, 20; modern dances and dancers, 22–24; Phallic festivals of, 143
El Baile de los Seises, at Seville Cathedral, 106–116
El Baile de Pifano, religious dance of the mining districts of Chili, 118
Eliot, Lady Charlotte, in a Scotch reel before the Queen, (1849), 408
Elizabeth, Empress of Russia, an accomplished dancer, 239
Elizabeth, Queen of England, said to have made Sir Christopher Horton Lord Chancellor for his dancing, 125, 126; masque given before, by the benchers of Gray's Inn, 156; a great patroness of the dance, 157
Elssler, Fanny, 235, 330, 370
ENG
England, dancing in, 124; most modern dances imported from abroad, 124; the Hornpipc esscntially the national dance, 124; skill of courtiers in the sixteenth century, 125; country dances, 126, 155, 158–161; dancing a necessary part of a gentlewoman's education, 126; the pastime denounced by the Puritans, 127, 147, 171; in Anglo-Saxon and Norman times, 128–130; after the Conquest, 130; introduction of Eastern dancing practices after the first Crusade, 131; Christmas Day customs and festivities, 131; in the Middle Ages, 133; after-dinner dances, 133; extravagance of the dance in the fifteenth century, 135; the Morris dance, 136; May Day dances 136–153; curious names of old English dances, 154, 168; revels in the Inns of Court, 155, 156; in Elizabeth's reign, 156, 164; stateliness of the Court dances, 157, 158; the Lavolta, the Passamezzo, and the Pavane, 164; the Brawl, 166; a ball in the time of Charles II., 166; dancing daggers and swords, 167; masques and pageants of the Courts of James I. and Charles I., 170; the Minuet and the Saraband, 171; local dances and customs, 172–176; the Polka craze in, 230–232, 405 opposition to the Waltz in, 299; assemblies at Almack's rooms, 401 (
see Almack's); changes in the form of dances, 405, 410; the Lancers, 406; State balls in the early part of Her Majesty's reign, 407; the Cotillon of the period, 409.
See also Christmas, May Day, Maypole,
and Morris dance
ENO
Enoplic, the, 187
‘En passant par la Lorraine,’ 265
Entremets, or Intermezzi, 242, 360, 362
Eresby, Lady Willoughby de, patroness of Almack's, 402
Erman, on the dances of ancient Egypt, 16, 19, 20
Escarraman, the, 328
Eskimo drum-dance, for settling quarrels, 82
Espata danza, the, 316
Espringale, the, 292
Espringall, the, 201
Essaer (Essenes), choral festival of the, 94, 95
Esterhazy, Princess, 402, 404
Esturdia, the, 309
Eumelia, the, 187
Euripides' ‘Orestes,’ dramatic dance in, 48
Exorcism, dances used for, by savages, 70
Fadé, or Furry, dance of Helston, 172
Fado, the, 308
Fan dance, Japanese, 359
Fancy balls of the Paris Opéra, 378
Fandango, the, 320; time and character of the dance, 321; curious anecdote of, 322
Fans, in association with dancing, 359, 377
Farandole, the, 277; how performed, 278; tragic stories connected with, 278
Faroö, dances and national music of, 303
Fellahs of Upper Egypt, wedding dance of, 23
Fer-Cengail, the, 201
Fer-Gigaoila, the, 201
‘Festum Asinorum,’ twelfth-century French religious festival, 98
Feudal dances, 104, 275, 296
Fewkes, Dr., on the dances of the Zuñi, 84
FRA
Fielding, Lady Jane, 406
Fiji, native estimation of dancing, 82
Flamenco, the, 322
Elanders, fnneral dance of, 117, 275
‘Flannel Jacket,’ dance tune, 203
Flat-foot, fifteenth-century Scottish dance, 187
Florentine dances, 338
Flower dances of the Greeks, 50, 58
Flowers of Edinburgh,' dance tune, 197
Fofa, the, 307, 309
Fogueiras de S. João, 309
Folias, 309
Forlana, the, 334
France, ritual dances of, 97–101; joined in by priests and clergy, 97, 98, 100; St. Vitus's dance in, 102; the Polka craze in Paris, 229; dancing essentially a French art, 242; the Intermezzi, or Entrements, 242; Court entertainments in the reign of Charles VI., 243; of Louis XIII. and Charles IX., 244; the ‘danse basse’ and the ‘danse haute,’ 244; the Italian style introduced by Catherine de' Medici, 245; characteristic of sixteenth century dancing, 247; the Courts of Love, 248; influence of French dancing on other European Courts, 248; the Branle, 248; provincial branles, 249; the Torch dance, 251; the Tourdion, 252; the Gaillarde, 253; the Pavane and the Courante, 255; the Menuet, 256; formal style of the eighteenth century, 257; a royal academy of dancing founded in 1662, 258; the Menuet de la Cour, 259; Court dances in provincial costume, 263; the
Frankl, Dr., description of a modern Jewish banquet at Damascus, 33
Frazer, Mr. J. G., on the dances of savages, 67, 71, 72, 76 Frohntanz, the, 296
Funeral dances, 4; of ancient Egypt, 15, 19; of the Greeks, 41; Roman, 61, 62; of savages, 75–79; of Spain, 116, 329; of India, 117; of Flanders, 117, 275; of South America, 117; Scottish, 185; German, 291
Furry dance, the, 172
Gaillarde
, the, 246, 252, 253, 334, 395
Galicia, dances of, 327, 331
Gallarda, the, 328
Gallega, the, 327
Galop, the, 419
Gardel, 264, 422
‘Gather up the Money,’ dance tune, 206
Gauchet's poem, ‘La Feste du Village,’ 277
Gauls, dancing one of their chief pastimes, 242
GIP
Gautier, Théophile, 370
Gavotte, the, originally a Dauphiné peasants' dance, 263; introduced into Paris and remodelled, 263; the old form revived after the Revolution, 264; the modern Gavotte, 264, 403, 422, 423
Gavotte de Vestris, 423
Geisha girls of Japan, 357
Genlis, Madame de, 283
George IV., 409
Geranos, the.
See
Crane dance
Germany, the dances of, 13; introduction of dancing in churches, 97; St. Vitus's dance in, 102; the sword dance 195; warlike dances of the early Germans, 289; the ancient dances sacrificial rites, 290; New Year dances, 290; harvest festivals, 291; funeral dances, 291; the dance in folklore and saga, 291; influence of Christianity, 291; the Schuhplatteln, 292; the Schönpart, 292; the mediæval period, 292; peasant dances, 293; dancing at the conclusion of tournaments, 293, 294; the torch dance, 294; wedding dances, 294, 296, 297; the ring dance, 295; guild dances, 295; feudal dances, 296; the Siebensprung, 296; the Waltz, 298; the Allemande, 299; dance music of, 398
Gháwázees, or Gházeeyehs, 21, 22
Ghillie-Callum, the, 195, 196
Ghost dances, 121
Ghoul dances, 121
‘Gienys dance,’ the, 174
Giga, or Gigue, 333, 334, 395
‘Gigantones y los Enanos,’ 327
Gipsies, dances of, 8, 213; probable gipsy origin of Eastern dancing girls, 213, 214; in Roumania, 214; in Russia, 214, 219; in the Ottoman
empire, 215; the gipsy dancing girls of Spain, 215; the figure-dancers, 217; the Gascarrots, 217; difference between Cascarrotac and Basque dances, 217; a gipsy legend, 218; in England, 218; Scottish, 219; of South America, 220; the Hungarian Tzigane, 220; dance tune of Indian gipsies, 221; time and rhythm of dances, 391
Gleemen, Anglo-Saxon, dances and feats of, 128–130, 136
Gluck, 264, 361, 366, 396
Goa, flower dance of convert boys at, 75
Godfrey, Mr., 409
Golden calf, dance of the Israelites round the, 26
Goldsmith, Oliver, 274, 276
Gollttraidheacht, the, 204
Gondoliers' dance, 334
Goosey-dancing, 173
Gopis dance, 349
Gordon, Jane, Duchess of, 402
Goths, military dance of, 137; sword dance, 195
Gow, Neil, 190
‘Great’ dances of China, 352
Greece, ancient, perfection of dancing in, 8; the religious nature of the people depicted in their dances, 34, 39; their sensitiveness to rhythm and proportion, 34, 36; alliance of dancing with music and poetry, 34, 37; special characteristic of the dances, 36; the primitive dances mostly circular, 36; gesture of more importance than feet movements, 37, 38; the poets teachers of hand gestures, 38, 39; character of the cultured classes, 38, 39; dancing a chief branch of education, 39; decadence of the art as the people degenerated, 40; influence of dancing on sculpture 40; varieties of the dance: the Kubistic, the Spheristic, and the Orchestic, 41; funeral dances, 41; war-like dances, 41–45, 52; the Gymnopaidia and the Laconian, 41; the Pyrrhic, 42; Mysian war dances, 44; the Hormos, 44; the Geranos, or Crane dance, 45; the Delian festival, 45, 46; choregraphic figure-dance, 46; the festivals of Artemis, 47; dramatic dances, 47–50; the Emmeleia, the Kordax, and the Sikinnis, 47, 48; influence of theatrical dances on the people, 48; a standard of beauty and proportion portion for dancers, 50; dances illustrative of joy and merriment, 50; the Anthema, or flower dance, 50; dances in imitation of animals, 52; the Hyporchema, 52; the Caryatis, 52 religious dances, 93; the dancers of, 384
Greece, modern: the dances similar to those of the ancient Greeks, 52; popularity of the older forms in Crete, 52; the Arnaöut (Albanian dance), 53–58; the Ionian, 58; May and Easter dances, 58; a social dance at Casos, 59; the Isolano, 59
Greek teachers of dancing, 372
Greek tunes, time and rhythm of, 391
Greek writers on the dance, 15, 36–48
Greenland, native methods of settling disputes, 82
‘Greensleeves and Pudding Pies,’ old English dance, 154
Gregory XIII., Pope, 391
Grétry's Gavotte, 264
Grisi, Carlotta, 231, 370
Guards' ball to the Prince and Princess of Wales, at the Exhibition, Cromwell Road, in 1863, 409
‘Guards’ Waltz,' the, 409
GUG
Guglia di San Paolino, religious dance of Nola, Italy, 120
Guild dances of Germany, 295
Guimard, Mlle., 368
Guipuzcoa, dances of, 312–315
Gungl', 420
Guonod, 119
‘Gwin ar Challaoued,’ dance tune of Brittany, 267
Gymnopaidia, the, 41
Habas Verdes, 330
Haddon, Professor, on the native dances and costumes of Torres Straits, 80, 83
Halfpenny Jig, 203
Hand gestures in dancing, 38, 326
Handel, 368
Hanover Square Rooms, 406
Harem dancers, Egyptian, 19, 22
Harley, Mr., in the first quadrille at Almack's, 403
Harp, Welsh, 210
Harris, Sir Augustus, on stage dancing, 378
‘Hart’s Set,' 406
Hatton, Sir Christopher, said to have been made Lord Chancellor y Queen Elizabeth for his dancing, 125, 126
Hay, the, 168
Haydn, 316, 370 399
Haymarket Theatre, the corps de ballet of fifty years ago, 364
Hebrews, dances of, 24, 94.
See Biblical references to dancing
and Israelites
Heine, H., 370
Heinrich der Vogler, Emperor, 296
Henri III., 396
Henri IV., 362
Henry VIII., observance of May Day customs by, 138; a frequent performer in masques and pageants, 156, 157
Her Majesty's Theatre, 369
IND
Herculaneum, dances depicted on the walls of, 64
Hermann, Professor, on gipsy dances, 220, 223, 224
Highland Fling, 188, 197, 423
Highland Hornpipe, 197
‘Highland Laddie,’ song, 197
Highland Schottisehe, 179
Hindoos, preference of, for Scottish music, 189
Hippoclides' loss through dancing, 6
Holland, the dances of, 300; the Matelot dance, 301; numerous representations of the dance by Dutch painters, 302
‘Hop,’ Lancashire term for a dance, 129
Hoppesteres, Anglo-Saxon female dancers on one foot, 129
Hopping dance, Irish, 201
Hop-waltz, the, 420
Hormos, the, 44
Hormus, the, 187
Hornpipe, the, instructions for, by an eighteenth-century Scottish dancing-master, II; the national dance of England, 124; Scottish, 196, 197; music of, 394
Horseback, dances on, 85, 238
Hringbrot, the, 305
Hungary, dances of, 219, 222; dance music the national music, 223; the Csárdás, 223
‘Hunting of the Fox,’ 169
Hyporchemes, the, 42, 52, 360
‘I
Gelosi,’ Italian players, 361
‘I loved thee once, I love no more,’ old English dance, 154
Icelandic national dance, 305
‘If all the world were paper,’ old English dance, 154
‘Illustrated London News,’ the, on the polka craze, 230
India, funeral dances of, 117; Phallic festivals of, 143; the nauteh girls and their dances, 344–347, 349; the Cathacks,
or men dancers, 347; children's dances of Chota Nagpore, 347; Bhopal egg dance, 347; religous dances, 347, 348; aboriginal dance of the Khassia hills, 348; the Gopis dance, 349; the femme dancers of the pagodas, 349
Indian gipsies, dance tune of, 221
Inns of Court, revels at the, 155; masque performed before Queen Elizabeth by benchers of Gray's Inn, 156; elaborate masque given at Whitehall, in 1633, 170; jigs named after, 202
Instrumental accompaniments of the dance: Biblical, 25, 29, 31; of later Jews, 32; of savages, 74, 85, 87, 90; old English, 129, 146, 148; Scottish, 190, 191; Irish, 199, 206; Welsh, 210; Russian, 238; French, 263, 266, 273, 274, 276, 277, 283; German, 290; Scandinavian, 293; Basque, 312, 316; Spanish, 319, 325, 326, 327; Italian, 336, 343; Indian, 346; of dervishes; 391
Intermezzi, or Entremetss, 242, 360, 362
Invertless annual gathering, 183
Ionian duet dance, 58
Ireland dancing in, 193, 198; wakes, 199; circular dances, 2o0; the Jig, 201, 394; single and double jigs, 204; jig tunes, 204–207; an Irish Sabbath, 207; belief in the legend that the sun dances on Easter morn 210
Iroquois Indians.
See
North American Indians
Isabel of Aragon, 332
Isabel of Bavaria, 244
Isle of Man, May Day festivities, 152; Twelfth Day customs, 174
Isolano, the, 59
JAP
Israelites, solemnity and dignity of their dances, 24; the movements not governed by fixed rules, 24, 25; their dances of a circular order, 25; thanks-giving dance after the passage of the Red Sea, 26; separation of the sexes in the dance, 26; the dedication of the walls of Jerusalem, 28; the annual festivals at Jerusalem, 29; great influence of dancing upon them, 30; social dances at the feast of the Atonement, 32; after the dispersal: religious exaltation of those most oppressed, 32; wedding rejoicings of the Jews at Metz and Morocco, 32; a modern Jewish banquet, 33; their love of music and the dance, 212
Italy, dancing in, 13; religious dances, 120; Maypole dances, 144; revival of dancing in the fifteenth century, 331; ballets of the period, 332; sixteenth century dances, 332; participation pation of Church dignitaries in the dance, 332; character of the ancient dances, 333; Sicilian dances, 335; the Siciliana, 336; dances of Naples, 338; the Tarantella, 339–343; musical instruments 343
‘
Jack
at Greenwich,’ hornpipe, 394
Jaleo, the, 320, 330
Jamaica negro dance, 66; the Obeah or medicine-man's method of healing, 73
James I., 170, 182
James II., 201
James IV. of Scotland, 181, 187
James V. of Scotland, 1, 187
Japan, the Maikos, or dancing girls, 356–359; rarity of male dances, 359; ritual dances, 359
JAVA
Java, native dance customs, 83
Jersey, Lady (1814), 402, 403
Jerusalem, dances at the annual festivals, 29
Jew's-harp, Scottish, 190, 191
Jews.
See Israelites
Jig, Irish, 199, 203; English, 20l; character of the ancient dances 202; single and double jigs, 204; tunes, 204–207, 394; Welsh, 211; Italian, 334; Scottish, 402
‘Joan Sanderson,’ or the Cushion dance, 158, 169, 185, 393
‘John, come kiss me now,’ dance tune, 168
John, Duke of Austria, 257
Jongleurs, Norman, 129, 136, 391
Jota, the, 329, 330
Judges, Candlemas Day dance of, in Serjeant's Inn, 155
Juego de Pelota, 314 Jullien, 407, 408
Jumping dance, Bohemian, 227
‘Jumping Saints,’ name given to Whit Tuesday pilgrims to Echternach, 104
Kaffir Negro domestic dance, 88
Kaiserin Gavotte, 423
Kakhava, a gipsy caldron festival, 215
Kakhyens of Northern Burmah, death dance of, 76
Kalends of January, heathen custom at the, 133
Kalmuck women's dance, 238
Karoles of Normandy, 270
Keliben, gipsy term for the dance, 215
Kemp, William, his dance from London to Norwich in 1599, 139; jigs named after, 203
Kennington Green, Maypole in, until 1795, 148
Kermesses, 274
Kerr, Miss, in a Scotch reel before the Queen (1849), 408
LAN
Khassian aboriginal dance, 348
Khorovodi, the, 237
Kilkenny, tragic result of a churchyard dance at, 200
Killie-Kallum, the, 195
King's Theatre (afterwards Her Majesty's), the ballet at the, 369
Kissing, in association with dancing, 83, 127, 149, 159, 168, 253, 264, 298
Kitchen Lancers, 414
Klepht dances, 58
Knox, John, denounced Queen Mary for dancing, 182
Koenig, 407
Kolomejka, the, 235
Korroborae, the, 82, 90–92
Kozaks, the, 235
Krakowiak, the, 235
Kronou Teknophagia, 52
Kropotkin, Prince, 286
Kubistic dancing, 41
Kukri dance, 88, 89
Kulu religious dances, 348
‘
La Chanson du Mois de Mai,’ dance-song, 269
‘
La Clochette,’ Air de, 246 La Jok, 13
‘La Prose de l'Ane,’ 98
‘La Robine,’ dance tune, 273
‘La Sylphide,’ ballet, 370
La Tarasque, 120
Laal Koner, female dancer, made joint governor of the Mogul empire, 33
Labitzky, 407
Lacedæmmonians, dances of the, 42
‘Lackets,’ a Manx Twelfth Day pastime, 174
Laconian, the, 41
Lambra, the, 308
Lancers, the, 280, 422; invention of, 406; the first set danced in London, 406; the figures, 407; included in State ball programmes, 407
Landes, peasants of the, 274
LAN
Lang, Andrew, quoted, 74
Langenberg, feudal dance still performed at, 296
Lanner, 121, 398
Laparogues, Polish dances, 235
Lapps, dances of, 305
Latewakes, 185
Lavare vane, manx custom, 174
Lavolta, the, 8, 164
Lawes, William, 157
‘Léandre et Héro,’ ballet opera, 367
Leap-candle, 172
Lechner, Mlle. Olga de, 406
‘Leiche,’ the, German dance-song, 291
Les Olivettes, 279
‘Les petits Riens,’ ballet, 372
‘Li Comici Fedeli,’ Italian players, 362
Lieven, Countess, 402, 404
Limoges, religious dances at, in the twelfth and eighteenth centuries, 98, 101
Linka, 418
Lisbon, dancing processions after the plague in 1570, 310
Liszt, 213, 214, 220, 224
Livingstone, Dr., 65
Lo Salt, a dance of Roussillon, 284
Loangas, dance of the, 82
‘Lord of Misrule,’ the, 132
‘Lord's Masque,’ the, 170
Louis IX., 242
Louis XII., 270, 332
Louis XIII., 244, 362
Louis XIV., 217, 256, 257, 300
Louis Philippe, 378
Loures, the, 334
Lucian's treatise on the dance, 11, 36, 37, 40, 48, 74
Ludion dance, 61
Lulli, 257, 362, 363, 396
Lupercalia, the, 62
‘Lurch,’ the, 420
Luri, gipsy dancing girls, 214
Lusitani, dance of the, 194
Lutz, Meyer, 424
MAX
Lycurgus, the Hormos war-dance invented by, 44
Lygon, Lady Georgina, 406
Macpherson, Cluny, in a Scotch reel before the Queen (1849), 408
Madrigals, 395, 396
Maezeddin, Mogul Emperor, appointed a female dancer joint governor of the empire, 33
Mahanaim, the, 25
Milkos, dancing women of Japan, 344, 356–359
Maine, Duchesse du, inventor of the ballet-pantomime, 363
Makovitza, the, 239
Malagueña, the, 322, 330
‘Man's dance,’ Chinese, 352
Manhood-initiation dance of the Torres Straits, 83
Maori war dance, 69
Marcel, 367
Marcheuses, members of the ballet, 364
Margate Lancers, 414
Marguerite de Bourgogne, 257
Marguerite of Valois, 1, 251, 271
Marie Antoinette, 264, 285, 361, 368, 422
Marie Thérèse, 362
Marquesas, dance of young native girls, 92
Mary of Guise, Court festivities during her regency, 181
Mary, Queen of Scots, splendour of the masques in her reign, 181; character of, 181
Masks used by savages in the dance, 76, 79, 80
Masques, old English, 132, 138, 156, 170; in Scotland, 180, 181
Matelot dance, Dutch, 301
Mauri, Mlle., 364
Maximilian I., Pyrrhic dance performed before, by Scaliger, 44
MAY
May dance, Grecian, 58; Roman, 61
May Day dances and customs: the Morris, 136–143; remote origin of the festival, 143; Maypole dances, 143–148; ‘a jolly game in Fanch-church Strett’ in 1557, 143; tunes, instruments, and songs of, 146; milkmaids' dances, 146 chimney-sweeps' dances, 151; in Wales, 152; in the Isle of Man, 152; in New England in the sixteenth century, 152; of Bohemia, 288
Maypole dances, 126, 136; the Morris, 136–143; popularity of, 144; attempt to suppress them in the reign of James I., 147; in New England in the seventeenth century, 152
Maypoles, 143, 144; great size of, 146; in and around London, 147, 148
Mazarin, stage dancer, 286
Mazur, the, 227, 232, 234, 239
Mazurka, the, 397
Mecklenburg-Strelitz, Duchess of, 404
Medici, Catherine de', 8, 245, 271, 332, 361
‘Medicine’ dances and ‘medicinemen,’ 71–74; of Jamaica, 73; of American Indians, 73, 74
‘Medicine-women’ of the Moluches, 73
Meibom, Professor, ancient Greek dance performed by, before the Swedish Court, 44
Melville, Herman, description of a young girls' dane in the Marquesas, 92
Memphis (Egypt), celebrated for accomplished singers, 17
Mendelssohn, 334, 343
Ménestrier, Père, 26, 97, 371
Menuet, the.
See Minuet
Menuet d'Exaudet, 259
Menuet de la Cour, 151, 259, 403, 422
MOR
Menuet de la Reine, 259
Menuet du Dauphin, 259, 261, 367
Merry-ma-tanzie, 187
Merry Mount, New England, a May festival at, in 1628, 152
Metastasio, 361
Metz, Jewish marriage ceremonies at, 32
Mexico, dances of the Zuñi, 84, 85; church dances in, 118
Middlesex, Lord, 361
Military dances, of the Goths, 137; Chinese, 353
Milkmaids, dances of, 246; accessories of the dance, 148, 149; May festival of, 149; Indian, 349
Minnesingers, the, 292
Minstrel dancing, 131
Minuet, the, 171, 256; in Russia, 239; character of the dance, 257,422; its historical importance, 257; manner of dancing, 258; the usual dance of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, 259; example of music, 396
Mirabeau, 274
Miriam's song, 25; sung at the present day as a hymn in the synagogues, 26
Mizpirotza, the, 316
Mizva, the, 32
Moluches, ‘ medicine-women ’ of the, 73
Monferrina, the, 333, 334
Montague, Mr., in the first quadrille at Almack's, 403
Montez, Lola, 364
Montgomery, Mr. and Miss, in the first quadrille at Almack's, 403
Moquis, death dance of the, 76
Moral ballets, 363
Moriseo, the, 136, 137
Morocco, wedding festivals of the Jews of, 32
Morris bells, 137–139, 186; references to in old English parish accounts, 138
MOR
Morris dance, the, 136; derivation of the name, 136; characters, costumes, and description of the dance, 136–139; its popularity, 137; usually danced round a Maypole, 137, 146; still common in some parts of England, 138, 139; danced from London to Norwich, in 1599, by a comic actor, 139; in Scotland, 140, 186; with swords, 175; example of music, 393
Morris, Rev. John, quoted, 102, 104
Mouret, 363
Mourisca, the, 308
Mouriscada, the, 308
Mozart, 261, 336; 372
Mummers, Assyrian, 23, 24
Mumming in the thirteenth century, 180
Muyñeyra, the, 320
Munich old Town Hall, figures of Moorish dancers discovered in, 296
Murray-Aynsley, Mrs., on the religious dance in Algeria, 119; on the dances of the hill tribes of India, 348, 349
Musard, 284, 378
Musical examples: melody of Egyptian labourers, 16; Miriam's song, 25; Arnaöut, the (Albanian dance), 54; Isolano, the, 59; funeral song of Central Brazil, 77; dance of the Bushmen, 90; la Prose de l'Ane, 98; Bergerette, the, 100; melody played at the religious festival at Echternach, 105; Baile de los Seises, 108; ancient Danish Walpurgis dance, 122; fourteenth century English dance tune, 134; Staines Morris, 142; The Merry Milkmaids, 149; new May song (Cheshire), 151; ‘Greensleeves and Pudding Pies,’ 154; Joan NER
Sanderson, or the Cushion Dance, 158; Sellenger's Round, or ‘The Beginning of the World,’ 160; Nonesuch or ‘A la Mode de France,’ 162; Scotch Brawl, 167; ‘John, come kiss me now,’ 168; Canary, 169; a single Jig, 204; ‘Tatter the Road,’ 205; ‘The Humours of Caledon,’ 207; Jig, 211; dance of Indian gipsies, 221; Air de la Clochette, 246; Danse de la Basse Bretagne, 250; Menuet du Dauphin, 261; ‘En passant par la Lorraine,’ 265; ‘Gwin ar Challaoued,’ 267; dance-song of the Ain, 271; Bourrée d'Auvergne, 272; La Robine, 273; Dans der Maegdekens, 275; Le Chant de la Carmagnole, 285; the oldest French dance tune, 287; Todtentanz, 298; der Schifferknechte Dantz, 301; Chanson d'Cramignon, 302; Norwegian dance, 304; Schwedischer Bauerntanz aus Upland, 304; Pordon Dantza, 311; Bolero, 323; Chinese hymn, 355; of time and rhythm, 388–398; Jig, 394; Sir Roger de Coverley, 395
Mutchico, the, 313
Muyñeira, the, 327
‘My Wife shall have her Way,’ dance-song, 210
Mysian war dance, 44
Mystery plays, introduced in the thirteenth century, 96; forbidden at Cologne in 1617, 97
Naples, dances of, 334, 338
Napoleon I., 300
Nautch girls and their dances, 344–347; rhythm of the dance, 387
Nemours, Duc de (1630), 244
Nero, Emperor, 335
NEU
Neumann, Baron de, 404
New England, seventeenth-century Maypole dancing in, 152; progress of dancing in the next century, 176; curious names of contredances, 177
New May Song (Cheshire), 151
New Mexico, medicinal dancing rites of the natives, 74
New Year dances of North Ronaldshay, 173; ancient, 290
Newton, Sir Isaac, the Strand Maypole transferred to Wanstead by, 147
‘No Flight’ dance of Dakota Indians, 68
Nobler, Mlle., 369
Nonesuch, or ‘A la Mode de France,’ 162
Nop-jigs, 206
Norman jongleurs, 129, 136, 391
Normandy, dances and dance-songs of, 269, 270
North American Indians: buffalo dance, 67; ‘No Flight’ dance of Dakota, 68; scalp dances, 69, 70; ‘medicine’ dances, 73; Iroquois medicine-men. 74; bear dance, 78; Dakota mystery dance, 83; sun dance, 85; Dakota ‘begging dances,’ 87
North Ronaldshay, New Year's Day dance of, 273
Northumberland, Christmas sword dance of, 175, 176
Norwegian sword dance, 195; dance tune, 304
Noverre, ballet-master, 363, 365, 367, 371, 372
Nubia, dancing at graves in, 78
Numa, Emperor of Rome, dances instituted by, 61, 62
‘O
Du lieber Augustin,’ the first waltz tune, 299
Obertas, the 234
Olaus Magnus, quoted, 193, 195, 268, 289, 290
PER
‘Old Noll's Jig,’ 202
‘Orchésographie’ (Jehan Tabourot's), II, 167, 245, 249, 252, 253, 254, 255, 263, 264
Orchestic dancing, 41
Orkneys, the sword dance in 195
Orleans, Due d' (1393), his part in the ‘burning ballet,’ 244
Ostend Polka, 421
Ou, the Chinese word for dance, 352
Owenson, Miss, account of an Irish Sabbath, 207–209
Owl dance of the Greeks, 52 Oxford, candle-rush or leap-candle at, 172
Palilia, the, 62
Palmerston, Lord, 404
Palotás, the, 224
Palotéo, the, 319, 327
Pamperruque, the, 218
Pantalon, the, 316
Pantomimic dances, Grecian, 50; Roman, 63, 335, 360
‘Pardons,’ the, of Brittany, 266, 274
Paris, the polka craze in, 239; training of the Opéra corps de ballet, 364
Parr, Dr., a patron of May Day sports, 148
Parry, Dr., on dance music, 399
Pas de Quatre, the, 423
Passacalle, the, 328
Passamezzo, the, 164, 165, 333
Passepied, the, 249
Pavan, Pavenne, Pavin, Payon.
See Pavane
Pavane d'Espagne, 255
Pavane of Henri III., 254
Pavane, the, 164, 165, 187,253, 254, 330, 333, 422
Penny weddings, Scottish, 185
Perrot, dancer, 231
Persia, the dances of said to have been originated by gipsies sent from India, 214; dancing
girls of, 214, 350; present condition of the art in, 350 ‘Perth Glovers’ March,' 196
Peru, dances of, 375
Petrie, Prof. Flinders, quoted, 18, 119; mask and ivory clappers found by in Egypt, 23, 24, 377
Patronella, Queen of Aragon, 319
Phaiakian dance, the, 36
Phallic festivals of India and Egypt, 143
Philip III. of Spain, 308
Philip IV. of Spain, 316
Philip V. of Spain, 218
Phrynichus, danced in his own dramas, 39
Piatti, Signor, 334
Planxty, the, 205
Pletionka, the, 236
Plough Monday custom in the Stilly Isles, 173
Plugge-dansen, the, 300
Poitou, dances of, 274
Poland, religious exaltation of the Jews of, 32; beauty of the national dances, 232; the women of, 233; the
Polonaise, 233; the Mazur: varieties of, 234; the Krakowiak, 235; the Kolomejka, 235; dance music of, 397
Polka, the, 8, 228; origin of, 228: its rapid spread through Europe, 229; the mania in England, 230–232, 405; steps of, 230; time of, 419; description of, 421
Polka-mazurka, 419; description of, 421
Polonaise, the, 232, 233, 239, 241, 397
Polska, the 304
Pompeii, dances depicted on the walls of, 64
Pordon dantza, the, 310, 311
Portugal, Eastern character of the dances, 306; those of each province distinctive, 306; character of the dances, QUI
306–309; dance-songs, 307; religious dances and processions, 307, 309; antiquity of the dancing customs, 308; twelfth and thirteenth century dances, 308; influence of the Spanish dominion, 308; free nature of the eighteenth-century dances, 309
Potlachs, festivals of the tribes of North-west Canada, 88
Prague, the polka in, 229
Pratinas, danced in his own dramas, 39
Prestilo, the, 309
Prévost, French dancer, 363
‘Prometheus,’ Beethoven's ballet, 370
Provence, dances and dance customs of, 164, 274, 279 ‘Punch,’ on the polka mania, 231, 232
Punchinello, the, 338
Puritans and dancing, 127, 147, 171
‘Pygmalion and Galatea,’ ballet, 368
Pylades, Roman dancer, 63
Pyrrhic dance, of Sparta, 42, 64; its four divisions 42, 43; sometimes danced on horse-back, 43; Albanian, 52; of the Spacchiotes, 58; of Spain, 319
Quadrille
, French, 280; the figures, 281–283; the American, 283; a celebrated quadrille, 283; the first quadrille at Almack's, 403; the modern dance, 422
Queen, Her Majesty the, sword dance performed before in Perthshire, 196; as a dancer, 403, 404; at State balls in the early part of her reign, 407, 408
‘Queen Mary's Psalter,’ representations of dancing in, 154
Quinault, 363
RAB
Rabbinic books, references in to the Creator dancing, 94
Rain dances, 84 Rameau, 280
Ramel, General, assassinated in a farandole, at Toulouse, 278
‘Rats,’ beginners in the ballet, 364
‘Raye,’ the, 169
‘Red Tiger Devil’ dance of Tibet, 75
Redowa, the, 235
Reel, Scottish, 188–192, 402, 408, 416, 423; steps of, 192
Reel of Tulloch, 190
Refrains of dance-songs, 265
Reihen, the, 10, 303
Religious dances.
See Ritual dances.
Renchilido, the, 308
Rhythm.
See Time and rhythm Richelieu, Cardinal, 328, 362
Rigodai, the, 270
Rinceadhfada, or Rinkey, the, 194, 201
Ring dance, Scottish. 194; German, 295
Ringmor, the, 194
Rinke teampuill, the, 200
Rinnee, ancient jig, 205
Ritual dances, 10 93–123; dancing an accessory to religious rites from time immemorial, 93; dances of the ancients mostly religious, 93, 94; formerly no ritual without a dance, 94; the early Christians' interpretation of the dance, 94; ritual dances of the early Church, 95, 96; their degeneration, and prohibition in the seventh century, 96, 97; introduced again with the mystery plays four centuries later, 96; the church the general meeting-place in mediæval times, 97; attitude of the early English Fathers towards church dancing, 97; joined in by the priests and clergy in France, 97; ROM
ritual dances of Europe, 98, 103, 120, 290, 303, 307, 309, 327; the mediæval dancing mania, 101; St. Vitus's dance pilgrimages probably the origin of ecclesiastical dancing processions, 102, 10;; present day survivals of the ritual dance, 103–116; funeral dances, 117; the ritual dance in Mexico and Chili, 118; in Abyssinia, 118; of Egypt and Algeria, 119; witch dances, 121; of the Czechs, 226; of India, 347–349; of China, 352 –355; of Japan, 359
‘Robine Hude,’ old English May Day song, 146
‘Rock of Cashel,’ Irish dance tune, 199
‘Rogero,’ old English dance, 168
Romalis, the, 215
Romanesca, the, 334
Romarios, 307
Rome, pantomimic dances for. bidden by the Emperor Trajan, 17; character of the earlier festivals. 60; but one dance known of the time of Romulus, 60; the Salian dance, 61, 94, the Ludion dance invented to divert the people during the plague, 61; May dances, 61; funeral dances, 61, 62; greater development of music and the dance as Grecian are declined. 62; rural dances, 62; the Cerealia, 62; high favour of the dance under Augustus, 63; three thousand foreign women dancers in the city of Rome, 63; eloquence of the gestures in the pantomimic dances, 63; dancing practised by the cultured classes, and taught to all young girls, 63, 64; the Greek Pyrrhic dance performcd by slaves and hired dancers, 64; the ancient pantomime, 335, 360
ROM
Romerages, village feasts of Provence, 274
Romulus, only one dance known of the time of, 60
Rondeñ, the, 320
Rondes, Belgian, 10, 302; French, 10, 251, 269, 270
Rossini, 284, 343
Rothschild, Baron, 33
Rouen, religious dance at, in the twelfth century, 98
Roumania, gipsy dances of, 214
Ronssillon, local dances of, 284; the orchestra, 284
Royal academy of dancing, founded in Paris in 1662, 258
Royal Caledonian Ball, 404, 412
Ruggera, the, Sicilian pantomimic dance, 336
Russell, Lady Rachel, in a Scotch reel before the Queen (1849), 408
Russia, gipsy dances, 214, 219, 220; the ordinary dance of Slavonian origin, 256; wedding dances, 237; dance of horsemen, 238; the women of, 238; harvest thanksgiving dance, 239; dance of the Ukraine, 239; Court and society dances, 239; a curious ballet, 239; modern dancing, 240; ballroom customs, 241
Ryder, Lady Susan, in the first quadrille at Almack's, 403
Sacré, Madame, 406
St. Bartholomew, ball on the eve of the massacre, 246, 361
St. James's Palace, 407
St. John's Eve, dancing round and through fires, on, 1227 173, 228, 266, 309, 311
St. Kilda, dances in, 12
St. Leger (or Sellenger's) Round, 160, 169, 210
St. Vitus's dance, epidemic of, in 1374, 102, 342; curious French poem descriptive of,
102
SCA
Salian dance, the, 61, 99, 195
Satlé, Mlle., 367, 368, 369
Salmon dance, the, 186
Salome dancing before Herod, 30, 31
Salta, the, 284 Saltarello, the, 335
Sapate, surprise ballet, 363
Sapateados, the, 309
Sarabanda.
See Zarabanda Sarao, the, 327
Satan joining in the dance, superstitions regarding, 192, 193
‘Satyre's dance,’ 170
Saut Basque, the, 313
Savages, dances of, 10, 65–92; dancing a part of their daily life, 65; its religious significance, 66; character and objects of the dances, 67; courtship dances, 67; representations of the chase, 67; war dances, 68; scalp dances, 69, 70; dance of warriors' wives, 70; the dance as a means of exorcism, 70; death dances, 70, 76; dances for healing disease, 71–74; devil dances, their origin, 74–76; the use of masks, 76, 79, 80; funeral dances, 77, 78; dance costumes, 79, 80; skill of Savage dancers, 81; the dance as a means of settling disputes and promoting friendship, 81–83; manhood initiation dances, 83; sun dances, 85; sword dances, 86; part taken by the sexes in the dance, 86; wedding and domestic dances, 88; trials of skill, 88; gravity of the savage dancer, 88; dance of the Bushmen, 89; the Korroborae, 90; Marquesan girls' dance, 92
Scala, the, Milan, 364
Scaliger, performed the Pyrrhic dance before Maximilian I., 44; on the sacred dances of the early Christians, 96
G G
SCA
Scalp dances, 69, 70
Scandinavian dances, 303–305
Scarf dance, Indian, 347
Schäfflertanz, the, 295
Schifferknechte dantz, the, 301
Schönpart, the, 292
Schubert, 299
Schuhplatteln, the, 292
Schumann, 398
‘Schwedischer Bauerntanz aus Upland,’ 304
Scilly Isles, Plough Monday customs, 172
Scotland, prejudice against dancing in, 1, 182; the Morris dance, 140, 186; the Brawl, 167; distinctive character of the dances, 179; fondness of the people for dancing and music 179, 180; meagreness of records of early dances, 180; masques and dances of the thirteenth to the sixteenth centuries, 180, 181; partial revival of the art in the eighteenth century, 183; its position at the present time, 184; wedding dances, 184; funeral dances, 185; fifteenth century dancing at fairs, 186; prevalence of the French style at the Court, 187; some of the children's games originally dances, 187; the ancient dances, 187; the Highland Fling, 188; the Reel, 188, 402, 408, 416, 423; the Strathspey, 190; reels and strathspeys the true national dances, 190; music and steps of the reel, 191; witch dances, 192; legends of Satan and demons joining in the dance, 193; circular dances, 194; sword dances, 194; dirk dance, 196; the Hornpipe, 196; demeanour of the Scot while dancing, 198; gipsy dances of, 219
Scott, Sir Walter, quoted, 140, 184, 196
SME
‘Scrapies,’ 219
Sean-trius,' Highland hornpipe, 197
Seccarara, the, 335
Sefton, Lady, patroness of A1mack's, 402
Segadilles, the, 284
Seguidillas, the, 320, 323; character of, 325
Sellenger's Round.
See St. Leger's Round
Sens, religious dances at, in the twelfth and sixteenth centuries, 98–100
Sévigné, Madame de, 256, 276
Seville, the dance of los Seises, at the cathedral, 106–116; gipsy dancers of, 215
Sforza, Galeas, Duke of Milan, 332, 361
Shakers of New Lebanon, religious,dance of, 7
Shakespearean references to dancing, 137, 138, 140, 144, 154, 159, 164, 165, 166, 168, 169, 170, 334, 363
‘Shemit,’ the first reel at a
Scottish wedding, 185
Shetlands, the sword dance in the, 195, 196
Shinto, the, 359 Siciliana, the, 336–338
Sicily, dances of, 335 338
Side–step polka, 421
Siebensprung, the, 296
Single jigs, 204, 207
Sioux Indians, sun dance of, 85
‘Sir Roger de Coverley,’ 126, 394, 395
Sixpenny jig, 203
Skákava, the, 227
Skipping dance, French, 271
Skirt dance, the, 5, 380
Sladen, Colonel, in a Burmese death dance, 76
Slaves, of Egypt, taught to dance, 20
Slow-waltz, 420
‘Small ’ dances of China, 352
Smetana, 399
SMI
Smithfield, dancing entertainments at the old Elephant Ground, sixteenth century, 154
Smyrna, dances of, 58
Smyth, Mr. Brough, on the aboriginal dances of Victoria, 71
Snow-shoe dance of North American Indians, 81
Sonata, the, 396
Song accompaniments to dancing.
See Dance-songs
Song inscribed under a print of ‘Vestris teaching a goose to dance,’ 177
Sostratus, Greek dancer, 38
Soudan, native war dance, 70; negro tune, 390
South America, funeral dance of, 117; gipsies of, 220, the Zamacueca, 375
Spacchiotes, Pyrrhic dance of the, 58
Spain, religious dances of, 106; the funeral Jota, 116, 329; gipsy dances, 214, 215, 217; the dance universal, 317; female dances prohibited on the advent of Christianity, 318; survivals of ancient dances, 319; provincial dances, 320; the Fandango, 321; the Malagueña, 322; the Bolero, 322; the Seguidillas, 325; quaintness of the dance music, 325; distinction between danzas and bailes, 326; Valencian egg dance, 326; the Gallega, 327; the ancient pageants, 327; theatrical dances, 328; the Zarabanda, 328; funeral dances, 329; modern society dances, 330; dance-songs, 330; geographical grouping of dances, 331; infants taught dancing, 373
Sparta, the Pyrrhic dance, 42; female dancers of, 477 521 the Caryatis dance, 52
Spheristic dancing, 41
SWO
‘Sprightly Phrygian,’ the, 204 ‘Stabat Mater Quadrilles,’ the, 284
Staël, Madame de, description of the Tarantella, 339
Stage dancing, 5; of the ancient Greeks, 38, 48; of Spain, 328; the modern ballet, 361; present condition of, 378.
See also Ballet Staines Morris, the, 142
Stanford, Villiers, 399
Starocesky, the, 227
State dancers of China, 352
Stedman, Captain, 65
Steinen, Professor von' den, on Central Brazilian dancers, 76, 80
Stellis spider, music said to be an antidote for the bite of, 351
Stephens, Mr., description of a Basque village dance, 312
Steps of Highland Reel, 192; of the Polka, 229, 405; of the Gaillarde, 253; of the Pavane, 254; of the Gavotte, 264; of the Bourrée, 271; of the Waltz, 419
Sterne, Lawrence, 274
Strand, the, Maypole set up in, 147; transferred to Wanstead by Sir Isaac Newton, 147
Strathspey, the, 189, 423
Strauss (the elder), 299, 378, 398, 405, 407, 418
Strauss, Edward, 407, 419
Sullivan, Sir Arthur, 272
Sully, 362
Sun dances, 85, 86, 268
‘Sur le Pont d'Avignon,’ French ronde and game, 250
Surprise ballet, 363
Sweden, the sword dance in, 195; religious dance of, 303; great variety of the dances, 304
Switzerland, dances of, 300
Sword dance, 86; in the North of England, 175, 176; in Scotland, 194–196, 423; of
G G 2
Tibet, 195; Syrian, 195; Bohemian, 226; ancient, of Brittany, 268; German, 290; Scandinavian, 305; Spanish, 330
Syria, the sword dance in, 195
Taglioni
, 64, 365, 370
Tahiti, wedding dances of, 88
Tailors' dance, German, 296
Tallien, Madame, 365
Tambourine dance, Italian, 361
Tamborileros, the, 316
Tñana, the, gipsy dance, 215
Tarantella, the, 72, 333; description of, 339; in Persia, 351
Tarantismos, a fifteenth-century dancing disease, 342
Tarantula spider, supposed power of dancing to counteract its poison, 341, 342
Tarasca, the, 327
‘Tatter the Road,’ ancient jig tune, 205
Tchinghiane, dancing festivals of the, 215
Telestes, Greek dancer, 38
Tennent, on the Devil dance of the Veddahs of Ceylon, 74
Thaletas, Grecian poet, 41
Theatrical dancing.
See
Stage dancing
‘The beginning of the World,’ dance tune, 160, 168, 210 ‘The Conquered Prejudice,’ ballet, 239
‘The Gout,’ ballet, 244
‘The Humours of Caledon,’dance tune, 206, 207
‘The Hunt,’ dance tune, 206 ‘The Merry Milkmaids,’ dance tune, 149
‘The Night and the Hours,’ old English masque, 170
Thespis, danced in the representation of his own dramas, 39
Tibetan mystery play, 75; dances, 195, 348
TRE
Tightrope dance before James VI. of Scotland, 182, 183; performance on horseback in 1237, 242
Tigritiya, dance disease of Abyssinia, 72, 342
Time and rhythm, in the East, 387; of primitive man, 388; development of rhythm, 390; Greek, 391; of the early Christians, 391; of troubadour and gipsy dances, 391–393; of old English dances, 393; adoption of foreign dance forms, 395; the Sonata, 396; stage music of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, 396, 397; modern Polish dance measures, 397; German and Bavarian, 398; Italian operatic and sacred airs arranged as dances, 399; the great masters and modern composers, 399
‘Times,’ the, on the polka mania in Paris, 229
Tinney, 407
Tirano, the, 330
Todtentanz, the, 298
‘Tom Tyler,’ old English dance, 169
Tonadillos, the, 328
Torch dance, French, 251; German, 294
Torcico, the, 315
Torres Straits, dancing dresses of the natives, 80; manhood initiation dance, 83
Torrington, Lord, the Queen's partner in an old English dance, 408
Tourdion, the, 244, 252, 253, 309
Tournaments, dancing at, 154, 294
Townley, Lady Caroline, 406
Trajan, Roman Emperor, the pantomimic dance forbidden by, 17
Tréis, French dancer, 264
Trenchmores, 164
TRE
Trescona, the, 338
Trihoris, the, 249
Troubadours, the, 248, 391
Tschaïkowski's Pathetic Symphony, 398
Tziganes, the, 220
Ukraine, dance of the, 239
Ululate, the, 308
‘Undumpisher,’ the, 164
Uxbridge, Lord, the Queen's partner in an old English dance, 408
Valencia, dances of, 326, 327
Valse à trois temps, 418; description of, 419.
See also Waltz
Varsoviana, the, 235
Vau de Vire, the, 270
Vaughan, Kate, 380
Veddahs of Ceylon, Devil dance of, 74
Vends, the, of Lusatia, 233
Vestris, Auguste, 365, 366, 367, 369
Vestris, Gaetan, 177, 264, 365, 366, 369, 423
Victoria (N.S.W.), death dance of the aborigines, 71
Vienna, the polka in, 229
Viking dances, 303
Vikivaka, the, Icelandic dance-song, 305
Village feasts, French provincial names for, 274
Village wakes, English, 129
Villão, the, 308
Villemarque, M. de, on Breton dances, 266, 267, 268
‘Virez-vous, tournez-vous,’ a dance-song of the Ain, 271
Vito Sevillano, the, 216
Vito, the, 330
Vogues, 270, 274
Volte, the, 246, 256
Voss, on the religious dances of the Israelites, 29
WEI
Wagner, 399
Wakes, English, 129; Irish, 199; Spanish, 329
Waldegrave, Lady, 409
Waldteufel, 418, 420
Wales, May Day customs in, 152; dances of, 209; at wedding festivities, 210; curious ancient dance, 210; the Jig, 211; belief in the sun dancing on Easter morn, 211
Wales, Prince and Princess of, 409
Wallachia, dances of, 13, 52
Walpurgis dance, ancient Danish, 122
Walpurgis Night, 121
Waltz, the, 8; Russian, 241; originally a German dance, 298, 299; opposition to in England, 299; waltz music, 299, 398; introduction at Almack's, 404; changesin the, 405; time of, 419; American variations of, 420.
See also Valse
War and warlike dances, of the ancient Greeks, 41–44; of North American Indians, 68, 70; of the Soudanese, 70; ancient German, 289; Spanish, 319; of Australian natives, 389
Warrau Indians, dance contests of the, for settling disputes, 81
‘Washerwoman,’ the, dance tune, 206
Washington, President, three hours' dance of, 176
Weber, 299, 343
Wedding dances, of Egyptian peasants, 23; of the Jews of Metz and Morocco, 32, 33; of Tahiti, 88; Scottish, 184;
Welsh, 210; of gipsies, 219; Russian, 237; French, 274; German, 294, 296, 297; Sicilian, 336
Weippart, 407, 408
WEL
Wellington, Duke of, 402
Whitelocke, 395
Wilkinson, Mr., on the dances of ancient Egypt, 20–22
Willis's Rooms, 401, 404
Wiltshire, dancing round the harrow in, 172
Witch dances, 121, 192, 226
Women dancers of China, 354
Xacaras, the, 309
Ximenes, Cardinal, 106, 329
ZWI
Yakka Duro, Cingalese professional devil dancer, 75
Yorkshire, sword dance of, 176
Yveteaux, M. des, 328
Zamacueca, the, 375, 376
Zarabanda, the, 171, 309, 328, 395
Zezhulicka, the, 227
Zorongo, 328
Zorzico, the, 314–316
Zwiefache, the 398
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Natural History
. By the Rev. H. A.
Macpherson
.—
Shooting
. By A. J.
Stuart-Wortley
.—
Cookery
. By
George Saintsbury
. With 13 Illustrations and various Diagrams in the Text.
THE PHEASANT.
Natural History
. By the Rev.
H. A. Macpherson
.—;Shooting
. By
A. J. Stuart-Wortley
.—
Cookery
. By Alexander Innes Shand. With 10 Illustrations and various Diagrams.
THE HARE.
Natural History
. By the Rev.
H. A. Macpherson
.—
Shooting
. By the Hon.
Gerald Lascelles
.—
Coursing
. By
Charles Richardson
.—
Hunting
. By
J. S. Gibbons
and
G. H. Longman
.
Cookery
. By
Col Kenney
, illustrations.
THE RABBIT. By
James Edmund Harting
.—
Cookery
. By
ALexander Innes Shand
. With 10 Illustrations.
THE SALMON. By the Hon.
A. E. Gathorne-Hardy
. With Chapters on the Law of Salmon Fishing by
Claud Douglas Pennant
.—
Cookery
. By
Alexander Innes Shand
. With 8 Illustrations.
THE TROUT. By the
Marquess Of Granby
. With Chapters on the Breeding of Trout by
Col. H. Custance
.—
Cookery
. By
Alexander Innes Shand
. With 12 Illustrations.
PIKE AND PERCH. By
William Senior
('Redspinner, Editor of the
Field
). With Chapters by ‘
John Bickerdyke
’ and
W. H. Pope
.—
Cookery
. 'By
Alexander Innes Shand
. With 12 Illustrations.
RED DEER.
Natural History
. By the
Rev. H. A. Macpherson
.—
Deer Stalking
. By
Cameron Of Lochiel
.—
Stag Hunting
. By
Viscount Ebrington
.—
Cookery
. By
Alexander Innes Shand
. With 10 Illustrations.
SNIPE AND WOODCOCK. By
L. H. De Visme Shaw
. With Chapters on Snipe and Woodcock in Ireland by
Richard J. Ussher
.—
Cookery
. By
Alexander Innes Shand
. With 8 Illustrations.
WILD FOWL. By
L. H. De Visme Shaw
. With Chapters on Shooting the Duck and the Goose by
W. H. Pope
. —
Cookery
. By
Alexander Innes Shand
. With 8 Illustrations.
THE FOX. By
Thomas F. Dale
. With 8 Illustrations.