THE BALADA.
The _balada_ is not to be mistaken for the ballad of modern parlance. It
is, as its etymology indicates, a song serving to accompany the dance.
This destination proves at once its antiquity and its popularity. There
is little doubt that in some form or other the _balada_ has subsisted
from the times of Greek and Roman religious ceremonies down to our own
days. In a country full of Southern beauty and Southern gaiety, its
growth was a thing of natural necessity, like that of corn or wine. No
political change or calamities could crush it. It survived the ravages
of the crusaders in the thirteenth century, and the influences of
‘classical’ literature in the eighteenth. When Tristram Shandy entered
the rich plain of Languedoc, the first thing he perceived was a lame
youth whom Apollo had recompensed with a pipe, to which he had added a
tambourin of his own accord, running sweetly over the prelude, and the
reapers singing:
Viva la joya
Fidon la tristessa.
Unfortunately there is again little or no record of the earlier
development of this charming branch of poetry. But traces of its spirit
and grace remain in the few specimens transmitted to us through the
medium of the Troubadours, and these bear, in the freedom and variety
of their metrical treatment, the distinct mark of their affinity with
popular models. It ought to be added that the _baladas_ remaining to us
are mostly by anonymous authors, which would tend to prove that the more
celebrated and more dignified poets kept aloof from the unsophisticated
species. On the other hand, some of the specimens show all the refinement
and a good deal of the artificiality of Provençal versification. One of
them, for instance, is written almost entirely in what is technically
called _rims dictionals_—a curious metrical device, for an explanation
of which the reader is referred to the technical portion of this book.
A set rule for the structure of these dance-songs it would be difficult
to find, but it appears that most of them have a few introductory lines
by way of prelude, after which the stanzas themselves begin. The refrain
also is not unfrequent, and would suggest the falling in of a chorus—the
only sign, by the way, of the existence of that important musical
component. For the artistic _balada_—differing in this essentially and
significantly from the popular roundelay—is supposed to be sung and
the accompanying dance to be performed by a single person. The idea
of a dance _en masse_, or even in couples, verbally and mimetically
addressing each other, seems excluded. Hence the subjective character
of the poetry. By its contents the _balada_ could not be distinguished
from any other love-song. In some cases, indeed, its identification
would be altogether difficult but for the heading in the MS., or the
actual occurrence of the term _balada_ in the poem itself, as found, for
instance, in the charming song to be presently quoted. The exclamations
‘Let us sing,’ ‘Let us dance,’ which occur in modern opera and which
establish at least some external connection between the two arts,
are almost entirely wanting.[13] And yet the Provençal _balada_ is a
dance-song in the most emphatic sense of the word. The secret lies in the
rhythm, the metre. This, in most of the _baladas_, is graceful waving
motion itself. In conjunction with the musical accompaniment the effect
must have been of surpassing charm. As to the nature of this musical
accompaniment an interesting passage may be found in the _Leys d’amors_.
Speaking of the _dansa_ the old Provençal writer asserts that it must
have ‘a slight and joyous tune, not quite so long as those of the _Vers_
or the _Canso_, but a little more lively, such as is suited for dancing,
as the name indicates. But nowadays people use this tune very badly, for
the singers hardly know how to get into a good dance rhythm. And as they
are unable to do so, they have changed the tune of the _dansa_ into the
tune of the _redondel_, with their minims and the semi-breves of their
motets.’ To us the melodious beauties indicated by these words are, it
is to be feared, lost for ever. But even without this important aid,
sufficient remains to connect the fall of the lines with the graceful
harmonious action of the human body. This association of ideas is common
amongst Southern nations; the Greek metrical terms _arsis_ and _thesis_
are derived from the lifting up and setting down of the dancers’ feet.
But even in the literature of Teutonic nations songs occasionally occur
which act on brain and feet as would the lively rhythm of a valse by
Strauss or Lanner. I will mention only a single English specimen by
way of illustration. In a ‘Mad-Song’ called the ‘Lady distracted with
Love,’ originally sung in Tom D’Urfey’s ‘Don Quixote’ (first performed
in 1694) and to be found in that author’s ‘Pills to purge Melancholy,’
especially the second division of each stanza appears to me a model of
the dance-song in its northern transformation. It is supposed to depict
the phase of ‘mirthful madness,’ and runs thus:—
Or if more influencing
Is to be brisk and airy,
With a step and a bound
And a frisk from the ground
I’ll trip like any fairy.
As once on Ida dancing
Were three celestial bodies,
With an air and a face
And a shape and a grace
I’ll charm like beauty’s goddess.
But how infinitely more graceful than these lively verses is the soft
gliding rhythm of the following Provençal stanzas!
‘_Coindeta soi_,’ ‘I am graceful, joyous,’ the lady begins,—
Coindeta soi, si cum n’ai greu cossire
Per mon marit qar nol volh nil desire.
Q’ieu beus dirai per qe son aussi droza
Coindeta soi;
Qar pauca soi joveneta e toza
Coindeta soi;
E degr’aver marit don fos joyoza
Al cui toz temps pogues jogar e rire.
Coindeta soi.
Ja deus mi sal, si ja soi amoroza
Coindeta soi;
De lui amar mia sui cobeitoza
Coindeta soi;
Ans qan lo vei ne soi tan vergonhoza
Q’en prec la mort q’el venga tost aucire.
Coindeta soi.
Mas d’una re m’en soi ben acordada
Coindeta soi;
S’il mieus amics m’a s’amor emendada
Coindeta soi;
Vel bel esper a cui me soi donada
Planh e sospir qar nol vei nil remire,
Coindeta soi.
E dirai vos de qem soi acordada
Coindeta soi;
Qel mieus amics m’a longamen amada
Coindeta soi
A li sera m’amors abandonada
El bels espers q’eu tant am e dezire,
Coindeta soi.
En aqest son fas coindeta balada
Coindeta soi;
E prec a totz qe sia lonh cantada,
Coindeta soi;
E qe la chant tota domn’ ensenhada
Del mieu amic q’eu tant am e dezire.
Coindeta soi.
An attempt at translation in prose or verse would be as impossible as it
would be superfluous. The charm lies in the music of the words. Moreover,
the subject is by no means edifying. It is the ever recurring burden of
Provençal poetry: a lady dissatisfied with her husband and openly calling
for death to come and kill him soon in order that she may be united to
her lover.
Essentially identical with the _balada_ is the _dansa_, of which also
several examples are found in the manuscripts. The difference which the
_Leys d’amors_ tries to establish between these and other variations of
the dance-song are evidently pedantic quibbles, and, moreover, not borne
out by the best models.