exists a custom, for the greater part of the inhabitants of a
town or village to assemble together, most evenings of the year,
at the market-place to dance, sing, and make merry for an hour
or two, before bed-time. On this occasion, they appear in their
best attire. The women, who come before the men, have a number
of little bells tinkling at their feet. The men carry little
fans or rather whisks in their hand made of the tails of
elephants and horses, much like the brushes used to brush
pictures; only that theirs are gilt at both ends. They meet
usually about sunset. Their music consists of horn-blowers or
trumpeters, drummers, players on the flute, and the like; being
placed a-part by themselves. The men and women, who compose the
dance, divide into couples, facing each other, as in our
country-dances, and forming a general dance, fall into many wild
ridiculous postures, advancing and retreating, leaping, stamping
on the ground, bowing their heads, as they pass, to each other,
and muttering certain words; then snapping their fingers,
sometimes speaking loud, at other times whispering, moving now
slow, now quick, and shaking their fans.
Artus and Villault add, that they strike each another's
shoulders alternately with those fans; also that the women,
laying straw-ropes in circles on the ground, jump into or dance
round them; and clicking them up with their toes, cast them in
the air, catching them as they fall with their hands.
They are strangely delighted with these gambols; but do not care
to be seen at them by strangers, who can scarce refrain
laughing, and consequently putting them out of countenance.
After an hour or two spent in this kind of exercise, they retire
to their respective homes.
Their dances vary according to times, occurrences, and places.
Those which are in honor of their religious festivals, are more
grave and serious. There have been sometimes public dances
instituted by order of their Kings, as at Abrambo, a large town
in Widaw, where annually, for eight days together, there
resorted a multitude of both sexes from all parts of the
country. This was called the dancing-season. To this solemnity
all came dressed in the best manner, according to their
respective ability. The dance was ridiculous enough; but it
served to keep up their agility of body. And amidst all the
uncouth barbarism of their gestures and attitudes, nature breaks
out into some expressions of joy, or of the passions, that would
not be unworthy of an European's observation.
They have also their kind of Pirrhic dances, which they execute
by mock-skirmishing in cadence, and striking on their targets
with their cutlasses.
I have already mentioned that it is from Africa, the
Moresc-dances originally came. But what is somewhat surprising,
the Portugueze themselves, among whom I will not however include
the higher ranks of life in that nation, but, at least, the
number of the people who adopted, from the Caffrees, or Negroes
of their African possessions, a dance called by them
_LasCheganças_, (Approaches) was so great that the late King of
Portugal was obliged to prohibit it by a formal edict. The
reason of which was, that some of the motions and gestures had
so lascivious an air, and were so contrary to modesty, that the
celebrated _Frey Gaspar_, a natural son, if I mistake not, of
the late King of Portugal, represented so efficaciously to his
Portugueze Majesty, the shame and scandal of this dance being
any longer suffered, that it was put down by royal authority.
Nor was this done without occasioning heavy complaints against
_Frey Gaspar_, against whom there were lampoons and ballads
publickly sung, upon his having used his influence to procure
that prohibition.
In AMERICA.
In this part of the world, so lately discovered, nothing is a
stronger proof of the universality of dancing, of its being, in
short, rather an human instinct, than an art, than the fondness
for dancing every where diffused over this vast continent.
In BRAZIL, the dancers, whether men or women, make a point of
dancing bare-headed. The reason of this is not mentioned: it
cannot however be thought a very serious one, since nothing can
be more comical than their gestures, their contortions of body,
and the signs they make with the head to each other.
In MEXICO, they have also their dances and music, but in the
most uncouth and barbarian stile. For their simphony they have
wooden drums, something in form of a kettle-drum, with a kind of
pipe or flageolet, made of a hollow cane or reed, but very
grating to an European ear. It is observed they love every thing
that makes a noise how disagreeable soever the sound is. They
will also hum over something like a tune, when they dance thirty
or forty in a circle, stretching out their hands, and laying
them on each others shoulders. They stamp and jump, and use the
most antic gestures for several hours, till they are heartily
weary. And one or two of the company sometimes step out of the
ring, to make sport for the rest, by showing feats of activity,
throwing up their lances into the air, catching them again,
bending backwards, and springing forwards with great agility.
Then when they are in a violent sweat, from this exercise, they
will frequently jump into the water, without the least bad
consequences to their health. Their women have their dancing and
music too by themselves; but never mingle in those of the men.
In VIRGINIA, according to the author of the history of that
country, they have two different kinds of dancing; the first,
either single, or at the most in small companies; or, secondly,
in great numbers together, but without having any regard either
to time or figure.
In the first kind one person only dances, or two, or three at
most. While during their performance, the rest, who are seated
round them in a ring, sing as loud as they can scream, and ring
their little bells. Sometimes the dancers themselves sing, dart
terribly threatening looks, stamp their feet upon the ground,
and exhibit a thousand antic postures and grimaces.
In the other dance, consisting of a more numerous company of
performers, the dance is executed round stakes set in the form
of a circle, adorned with some sculpture, or round about a fire,
which they light in a convenient place. Every one has his little
bell, his bow and arrow in his hand. They also cover themselves
with leaves, and thus equipped, begin their dance. Sometimes
they set three young women in the midst of the circle.
In PERU, the manner of dancing has something very particular.
Instead of laying any stress on the motion of the arms, in most
of their dances, their arms hang down, or are wrapped up in a
kind of mantle, so that nothing is seen but the bending of the
body, and the activity of the feet; they have however many
figure-dances, in which they lay aside their cloaks or mantles,
but the graces they add, are rather actions than gestures.
The PERUVIAN Creolians dance after the same manner, without
laying aside their long swords, the point of which they contrive
to keep up before them so that it may not hinder them from
rising, or in coupeeing, which is sometimes to such a degree
that it looks like kneeling.
They have a dance there, adopted from the natives, which they
call _Zapatas_, (shoes) because in dancing they alternately
strike with the heels and toes, taking some steps, and
coupeeing, as they traverse their ground.
Among the savages of North-America, we are told there are
various dances practised, such as that of the calumet, the
leaders dance, the war-dance, the marriage-dance, the
sacrifice-dance, all which, respectively differ in the
movements, and some, amidst all the wildness of their
performance, are not without their graces. But the dance of the
calumet is esteemed the finest; this is used at the reception of
strangers whom they mean to honor, or of ambassadors to them on
public occasions. This dance is commonly executed in an oval
figure.
The AMERICANS, in some parts, prescribe this exercise by way of
phisic, in their distempers: a method of treatment, not, it
seems unknown to the antients: but, in general, their motive for
dancing, is the same as with the rest of the world, to give
demonstrations of joy and welcome to their guests, or to divert
themselves. On some occasions indeed, they make them part of the
ceremony at their assemblies upon affairs, when even their
public debates are preceded by dancing, as if they expected that
that exercise would rouse their mental faculties, and clear
their heads. The war-dance is also used by them, by way of
proclamation of war against their enemies.
The foregoing summary sketch of some of the various dances,
which are practised in different parts of the globe, and which,
to describe universally and minutely, would fill whole volumes,
may serve to show that nature has, in all parts of the inhabited
world, given to man the instinct of dancing, as well as of
speaking, or of singing. But it certainly depends on the nations
who encourage the polite arts, once more to carry it up to that
pitch of excellence, of which the history of the Greeks and
Romans shows it to have been susceptible, among the antients,
however the moderns may have long fallen short of it. There has
indeed lately appeared a dawning hope of its recovery; which,
that it may not be frustrated, is the interest of all who wish
well to an innocent and even useful pleasure.
Of PANTOMIMES.
As this branch of the art of dancing is often mentioned,
especially in this country, without a just idea being affixed to
it, or any other idea than what is vulgarly taken from a species
of compositions which are sometimes exhibited after the play, on
the theatre here, (not to mention Sadler's wells) and go by the
name of pantomime entertainments; it may not be unacceptable to
the reader, my laying down before him the true grounds and
nature of this diversion, which once made so great a figure in
the theatrical sphere of action.
And as, on this point, Monsieur Cahusac, an ingenious French
writer, has treated the historical part of it with so much
accuracy, that it was hardly possible to offer any thing new
upon it, beyond what he has furnished; and that not to make use
of his researches would only betray me into a fruitless
affectation of originality, I am very ready to confess, that for
the best and greatest part of what I am now going to offer upon
this subject I am indebted to his production.
That prodigious perfection to which the antients carried the
pantomime art, appeared so extraordinary to the celebrated abbot
Du Bos, that, not being able to contradict the authorities which
establish the truth of it, he was tempted to consider the art of
dancing in those times as something wholly different from what
is at present understood by dancing.
The chevalier Ramsay places it also among the lost arts. Both,
no doubt, grounding their opinion on that deficiency of
execution on the modern theatres, compared to what is
incontestably transmitted to us, by history, of the excellence
of the antient pantomimes.
But none have more contributed to establish the opinion of the
pantomime art being an art totally different from that of
dancing, and not merely an improvement of it, as was certainly
the case, than some of the professors of the art themselves, who
even exclaimed against M. Cahusac, for his attempts to give
juster notions, and to recommend the revival of it.
We are too apt to pronounce upon possibilities from our own
measure of knowledge, or of capacity. Nothing is more common
than to hear men of a profession declare loudly against any
practice attempted to be established for the improvement of
their art, and peremptorily to aver such a practice being
impossible, for no other reason than that their own study and
efforts had not been able to procure them the attainment of it.
In this too they are seconded by that croud of superficial
people who frequent the theatres, and who can believe nothing
beyond what themselves have seen: any thing above the reach of
what they are accustomed or habituated to admire, always seems
to them a chimera.
The reproach of incredulity is commonly made to men of the
greatest knowledge, because they are not over-apt to admit any
proposition without proof: but this reproach may, with more
justice, be oftenest made to the ignorant, who generally reject,
without discussion, every thing beyond their own narrow
conception.
To these it may sound more than strange; it may appear
incredible, that on the theatre of Athens, the dance of the
Eumenides, or Furies, had so expressive a character, as to
strike the spectators with irresistible terror. The Areopagus
itself shuddered with horror and affright; men grown old in the
profession of arms, trembled; the multitude ran out; women with
child miscarried; people imagined they saw in earnest those
barbarous deities commissioned with the vengeance of heaven,
pursue and punish the crimes of the earth.
This passage of history is furnished by the same authors, who
tell us, that Sophocles was a genius; that nothing could
withstand the eloquence of Demosthenes; that Themistocles was a
hero; that Socrates was the wisest of men; and it was in the
time of the most famous of the _Greeks_ that even upon those
highly privileged souls, in sight of irreproachable witnesses,
the art of dancing produced such great effects.
At Rome, in the best days of this art, all the sentiments which
the dancers expressed, had each a character of truth, so great a
power, such pathetic energy, that the multitude was more than
once seen hurried away by the illusion, and mechanically to take
part in the different emotions presented to them by the animated
picture with which they were struck. In the representation of
_Ajax in a frenzy_, the spectators took such violent impressions
from the acting-dancer who represented him, that they perfectly
broke out, into outcries; stripped, as it were, to fight, and
actually came to blows among each other, as if they had caught
their rage from what was passing on the theatre.
At another time they melted into tears at the tender affliction
of Hecuba.
And upon whom were these lively impressions produced? Upon the
cotemporaries of Mecenas, of Lucullus, Augustus, Virgil, Pollio;
upon men of the most refined taste, whose criticism was as
severe as their approbation honorable; who never spared their
censure nor their applause, where either was due. How,
especially under the eyes of Horace, could any thing pass the
approbation of the public, unless under the seal of excellence
in point of art and good taste? Would Augustus have declared
himself the special patron of a kind of entertainment that had
been deficient as to probability and genius? Would Mecenas, the
protector of Virgil, and of all the fine arts, have been pleased
with a sight that was not a striking imitation of beautiful
nature?
The proofs shown of the perfection of dancing at Athens, and
under the reign of Augustus, being incontestable, it is plain
that what now passes for the art of dancing, is as yet only in
its infancy. To display the arms gracefully, to preserve the
equilibrium in the positions, to form steps with a lightness of
air; to unfold all the springs of the body in harmony to the
music, all these points, sufficient to what may be called
private, or to assembly-dancing, are little more than the
alphabet of the theatrical dances, or of pantomime execution.
The steps and figures are but the letters and words of this art.
A writing-master is one who teaches the mechanical part of
forming letters. A mere dancing-master is an artist who teaches
to form steps. But the first is not more different from what we
call a man of letters, or a _writer_, than the second is from
what may deserve on the theatre, the name of principal dancer.
Besides the necessity of learning his art elementally, a dancer,
like a writer, should have a stile of his own, an original
stile: more or less valuable, according as he can exhibit,
express, and paint with elegance a greater or lesser quantity of
things admirable, agreeable, and useful.
Speech is scarce more expressive, than the gestual language. The
art of painting, which places before our eyes the most pathetic,
or the most gay images of human life, composes them of nothing
but of attitudes, of positions of the arms, expressions of the
countenance, and of all these parts dancing is composed, as well
as painting.
But, as I have before observed, painting can express no more
than an instant of action. Theatrical dancing can exhibit all
the successive instants it chuses to paint. Its march proceeds
from picture to picture, to which, motion gives life. In
painting, life is only imitated; in dancing, it is always the
reality itself.
Dancing is, evidently, in its nature, an action upon the
theatres; nothing is wanting to it but meaning: it moves to the
right, to the left; it retrogrades, it advances, it forms steps,
it delineates figures. There is only wanting to all this an
arrangement of the motions, to furnish to the eye a theatrical
action upon any subject whatever.
The history of the art proves that the dancers of genius, had no
other means or assistance in the world but this to express all
the human passions, and the possibilities of it are in all
times, the very same.
Both here, and in France, there have been some of these dramatic
pieces in action, by dance, attempted, which have been well
received by the public.
Some years ago, the Dutchess of Maine ordered simphonies to be
composed for the scene of the fourth act of the _Horatii_; in
which the young Horatius kills Camilla. Two dancers, one of each
sex, represented this action at _Sceaux_; and their dance
painted it with all the energy and pathos of which it was
susceptible.
In Italy especially many subjects of a what may be called low
comedy, are very naturally expressed by dancing. In short, there
is hardly any comic action but what they represent upon their
theatres, if not with perfection, at least satisfactorily. And
certainly the dance in action has the same superiority over
sheer unmeaning dancing, that a fine history-piece has over
cutting flowers in paper. In the last there is little more
required than mechanical nicety, and, at the best, it affords no
great pretention to merit. But it is only for genius to order,
distribute and compose, in the other. A Raphael is allowed to
take place in the Temple of Fame, by a Virgil; and the art of
dancing is capable of having its Raphaels too. Pilades, and
Bathillus were painters, and great ones, in their way.
Picturesque composition is not less the duty of a composer of
dances, than of a painter.
Among the antients, that _Protheus_, of whom fabulous history
records such wonders, was only one of their dancers, who, by the
rapidity of his steps, by the strength of his expression, and by
the employment of the theatrical deceptions, seemed at every
instant, to change his form. The celebrated _Empusa_ was a
female dancer, whose agility was so prodigious that she appeared
and vanished like a spirit.
But it was at Rome that the Pantomime art received its highest
improvement. Pilades born in Cilicia, and Bathillus of
Alexandria, where the two most surprising geniuses, who, under
the reigns of Augustus Cæsar, displayed their talents in their
utmost lustre. The first invented the solemn, grave and pathetic
dances. The compositions of Bathillus were in the lively, gay,
and sprightly stile.
Bathillus had been the slave of Mecenas, who had given him his
freedom in favor of his talents. Having seen Pilades in Cilicia,
he engaged him to come to Rome, where he had disposed Mecenas in
his favor, who, becoming the declared protector of both,
procured to them the encouragement of the Emperor.
A theatre was built for them: the Romans flocked to it, and saw,
with surprise, a complete tragedy; all the passions painted with
the most vigorous strokes of representation: the exposition,
plot, catastrophe expressed in the clearest and most pathetic
manner, without any other means or assistence but that of
dancing, executed to the simphonies the best adapted, and far
superior to any that had been before heard in Rome.
Their surprise was not to end here. To this a second
entertainment succeeded; in which an ingenious action, without
needing the voice or speech, presented all the characters, all
the pleasant strokes, and humorous pictures of a good comedy.
And in both these kinds, the executive talents of Pilades and
Bathillus corresponded to the boldness and beauty of the kind of
compositions they had ventured to bring on the stage.
Pilades especially, who was at the head of this project, was the
most singular man that had till then appeared on the theatre.
His fertile imagination constantly supplied him with new means
of perfecting his art and embellishing his entertainments.
Athenæus mentions his having written a book much esteemed on the
depths and principles of his art.
Before him, some flutes composed the orchestra of the Romans. He
reinforced it with all the known instruments. He added choruses
of dances to his representations, and took care that their steps
and figures, should always have some relation or affinity to the
principal action. He provided them with dresses in the highest
taste of propriety, and omitted nothing towards producing,
keeping up, and pushing to the highest pitch, the charm of the
theatrical illusion.
The actions on the Roman theatres were tragic, comic, or
satirical; these last pretty nearly answering to what we
understand by grotesque or farcical.
Esopus and Roscius had been, from their excellence in
declamation, the delight and admiration of Rome. But on their
leaving no successors to their degree of merit; the taste for
dramatic poetry which was no longer supported by actors equal to
them, began to decline; and the theatrical dances under such
great masters as Pilades and Bathillus, either by their novelty,
or by their merit, or by both, made the Romans the less feel
their loss of those incomparable actors. The gestual language
took place of that which was declaimed; and produced regular
pieces acted in the three kinds of tragedy, comedy, and farce or
grotesque. The spectators grew pleased with such an exercise of
their understanding. Steps, motions, attitudes, figures,
positions, now were substituted to speech; and there resulted
from them an expression so natural, images so resembling,
a pathos so moving, or a pleasantry so agreeable, that people
imagined they heard the actions they saw. The gestures alone
supplied the place of the sweetness of the voice, of the energy
of speech, and of the charms of poetry.[*]
[Footnote *: Hanc partem Musicæ disciplinæ Majores
mutam nominârunt, quæ ore clauso loquitur, et quibusdam
gesticulationibus facit intelligi, quod vix narrante
lingua, aut scripturæ textu possit agnosci.
_Cassiod_, var. 1. 20.
Loquacissimas manus, linguosos digitos, silentium
clamosum, expositionem tacitam.
_Idem._]
This kind of entertainment, so new, though formed upon a
ground-work already known, planned and executed by genius, and
adopted with a passionate fondness by the Romans, was called the
_Italic dance_; and in the transports of pleasures it caused
them, they gave to the actors of it, the title of _Pantomimes_.
This was no more than a lively, and not at all exagerated
expression, of the truth of their action, which was one
continual picture to the eyes of the spectators. Their motion,
their feet, their hands, their arms, were but so many different
parts of the picture; none of them were to remain idle; but all,
with propriety, were to concur to the formation of that
assemblage, from which result the harmony, and, with pardon for
the expression, the happy _all-together_ of the composition and
performance. A dancer learned from his very name of _pantomime_,
that he could be in no esteem in Rome, but so far as he should
be _all the actor_.
And, in fact, this art was carried to a point of perfection hard
to believe; but for such a number of concurrent and authentic
testimonies.
It appears also clearly from history, that this art, in its
origin, (so favored by an arbitrary prince, and who also made
some use of it, towards establishing his despotism, nay even
primordially introduced by Bathillus, a slave) could no longer
preserve its great excellence, than the spirit of liberty was
not wholly worn out in the Roman breasts; and, like its other
sister arts, gradually decayed and sunk under the subsequent
emperors.