EUROPEAN FOLK-DANCING IN GENERAL
To people who toil long hours at confining work that requires care and
skill, there comes at the end of the day a craving for exercise that
will release the mind from the constraint of attention, that will let
the muscles play with vigour and abandon. In response to this demand of
nature there exists one class of folk-dancing--the _genre_ of the
careless, energetic romp of people bedecked in bright colours, joining
hands now to form themselves in rings, or again in interweaving lines,
improvising figures, heedless of step except the simplest skipping and
balancing.
Acting contrariwise to the influence of daily labour involving skill and
attention, is the force of habitual work that does not require enough
precision to satisfy the healthy craving for fine co-ordination of
muscle, nerve and mind. The latter condition, too, moves to the dance.
But here, in the case of a people whose potency of skill is not spent in
the day’s work, the dance is likely to assume forms of such precision
and elaboration that its performance requires considerable training, and
such beauty that it attains to the plane of art.
These two divisions are far from exact; many influences modify them. But
they serve as a beginning of the process of separating the gems of
folk-dancing from the mass of that which bears a superficial sparkle but
is without intrinsic choreographic value.
[Illustration: SCOTCH “SWORD DANCE”
Miss Margaret Crawford and partner
The steps and jumps bring the feet as close to the sword as is possible
without touching it]
[Illustration: THE “SCOTCH REEL”
Use of the _battement_ (1)--A pirouette (2)--Characteristic style (3,
4)--A turn (5)
To face page 165]
The second supposition, of a people engaged at work not sufficiently
exacting in finesse to satisfy their craving for skilled co-ordination,
may be taken to indicate a merely healthy race whose daily tasks require
no finer technique than the ordinary labour of a farm; in such category
might be put the peasants of Aragon. The same relation would exist
between a people less virile and a form of daily labour still less
concerned with skill, as the Andalusians. Or again, it is valid in the
case of a community engaged in crafts requiring fine workmanship, if
that community be of people endowed with nervous energy in excess of the
requirements of the day’s work; and that is the condition in those
eternally youthful nations, Scotland and Ireland.
National sense of beauty is a factor in the determination of the dances
of a country. The Latins have it. The Italians and Spanish have the
leisure to practice its expression. The French, on the contrary, direct
their energies into work of pecuniary value, and their acceptance of the
doctrine of accumulation keeps their attention where it will be paid.
Pierre and Laurette frolic with the neighbours on the green, in the
moonlight, in what they call a dance. It gives them exercise and many a
laugh. But when they would see beauty, they patronise its specialised
exponent, the ballet.
“Folk-dancing” is practically synonymous with “character dancing,” or,
as the word is frequently formed in literal translation of its French
original, “characteristic dancing.” It means what it implies, an
exposition of the characteristics of the people to whom it pertains.
Energy or dreaminess, fire or coolness, and a multitude of other
qualities are bound to assert themselves, automatically; to any one who
can even half read their language, character dances are an open book of
intimate personal revelation. The portrayal of sports or trades, which
is the sort of thing with which many folk-dances are concerned, does not
detract from their interest as expositors of national temperament.
Though it may be noted that, in general, the more a dance occupies
itself with imitation, the less its value as a dance.
Not least of the elements of interest attaching to these dances is the
measure they apply to national vitality or the lack of it. Through the
form and execution of its dance, the nation as yet half-barbarous
reveals vital potentiality; the people that has luxuriated in centuries
of power displays its lassitude of nerve; and the young political
organism shows marks of senility at birth. The aboriginal savage,
huge-limbed, bounds through dances fitted to the limitations of muscles
that cannot be controlled by brain, and the limitations of brain that
cannot invent or sustain attention; his dance exposes him as of a race
not in its youthful vigour, but in the degeneracy wrought less by time
than by manner of living. The Indian of North America is dying of age;
the Russian is in his youth.
The list of forces that make and preserve at nation’s dances is
incomplete without the addition of the sometimes powerful element of
national pride. This undoubtedly enters into the high cultivation of the
dances of Scotland. The industry, thrift and all-round practical nature
of the Scotch need not be enlarged upon. Though they do not lack
appreciation of beauty, they consider it a luxury for only limited
indulgence, except as it is provided by nature. But the _Sword Dance_
and the _Fling_ of their warring ancestors are as though associated with
the holy cause of freedom. On many a Highland battlefield they have
been stepped; they have wet their scurrying feet in spilled blood.
To learn Scotch dancing takes time, precious time. But it is time spent
on a decent and a fitting thing; they are Scotch! Scotch as the thistle
itself! From pulpits have come, at times, objections to them; from armed
camps and lairds’ halls of other days has come the answer, far but
clear: that Scottish chiefs, godly men as well as brave, trod their
_Flings_ in celebration of victories dear to memory. It is enough. The
cult of the dance has continued, unchecked by the inability of
occasional well-meaning divines to see its significance.
Cæsar “commented” upon the fighting qualities of the _Picti_, built a
wall to keep them off from the _Anglia_ that he had conquered, and
decided not to push his conquests farther north. The fighting spirit of
those tartaned clansmen never has softened and has had much occupation
throughout the subsequent centuries; and attaching to it is an epic, a
saga, in the shape of the _Sword Dance_.
Around the _Sword Dance_ in particular the Scotch people group
associations. In earlier times its performance was customary on the eve
of battle to relieve tension, to exhibit self-control, and, perhaps most
important of all, to test fortune. To touch with the foot the crossed
sword or scabbard between and about which the dancing warrior picked his
steps was an omen of ill for the individual or his comrades. In
present-day competitions, the ill luck following this error is evident;
to touch the sword or scabbard with the foot eliminates the offender
from the contest.
The _Highland Fling_, in distinction from the above, symbolises victory
or rejoicing. With the other dances of Scotland, it has been highly
formalised. Moreover, its routine, steps, and the proper execution of
each are so clearly defined and generally understood that any change in
them is immediately resented by any Scotch audience.
Every one has seen Scotch dances; any detailed analysis of them would be
superfluous. Exhilarating as Highland whiskey, sharp as the thistle,
they are carried to a high plane of art. Through them all runs a
homogeneous angularity of movement that literally translates the
sentiment of “Caledonia, stern and wild.” To the dances of Italy and
Andalusia they are as wind-blown mountain pines in contrast to orange
trees fanned by Mediterranean zephyrs. The theme of the sharp angle is
kept absolutely intact, unmodified by any element of sweep or curve that
the eye can detect. The essential steps are two, with variations: the
kicking step of the _Schottische Militaire_, of frequent mention on
ballroom programmes of twenty-five years ago; and _battements_, great
and small. It will be seen that these are perfectly of a kind. The
surprising thing is the variety derived from combinations of these two
elements with simple turns, simple jumps, and little if anything else of
foot-work. The result serves, from a purely analytical point of view, as
an admirable demonstration of the value of a simple theme intelligently
insisted on.
Spirit, of course, is another factor of great importance in making
Scotch dances what they are. A Scotch dancer without spirit could not be
imagined. Spanish dancers sometimes work coldly, ballet dancers often;
but a Scotch dancer never. The first note of the bagpipes inflames him.
With the rigourous definition of step, technique and style that attaches
to these dances, and the thoroughness
[Illustration: THE “SHEAN TREUSE”
The promenade (1, 2)--The thematic step (3)--Finish of a phrase (4)
To face page 168]
[Illustration: THE “SAILOR’S HORNPIPE”
Look-out
Hoisting sail
Hauling in rope
Rowing
Type of step
Type of step
Hoisting sail
To face page 169
]
of popular understanding of all that pertains to them, the Scotch public
is qualified to exercise upon dancing the essential functions of a
national academy. Standards are maintained by knowledge on the part of
spectators. Indifference of performance or freedom with forms is quickly
reproved. Nor, on the other hand, need any performer remain in ignorance
as to just what details of his execution are lacking; among his friends
there are plenty of capable critics. We noted the same conditions in
Aragon, where the general love of the _Jota_ probably would have kept
its standards of execution, even without the aid of professional
teachers--and certainly do protect it against the subtracting process
effected by adding novelties. In Italy the _Tarantella_ is cultivated in
the same way, in Little Russia the _Cossack Dance_, and in Hungary the
_Czardás_. And it is the force of educated public interest behind them
that sustains them in a class approached, in requirements of skill, by
few other character dances.
The accompanying illustrations from work by Miss Margaret Crawford and
partner demonstrate the interesting fact that the Scotch, developing
their school of execution along the lines dictated by their own keen
discernment, arrive at a conclusion in important respects identical with
the creed of the classic ballet. It is possible that the dances of
mountain and heather were influenced by the _Pavane_ and the _Minuet_ in
their day--for Queen Mary had her masques and balls and pageants, like
other monarchs of her time. But even that will not account for the
clean, sharp brilliancy of a Highlander’s _battement_ or _balloné_. In
so many essentials his dances are at variance with those of the
seventeenth-century courts that their excellence must be attributed to a
national instinct for true quality of beauty. The splendidly erect
carriage of the body, the straight knee of the supporting leg during a
step, as well as the crisp, straight-knee execution of a _grand
battement_ (the Scotch and other dancers do not use the French
designation of steps, but the general observer may well do so for the
sake of clearness), might have come direct from the French Academy. This
identity is in manner, it will be understood, more than in matter. Like
all character dancing, the Scotch includes in its vocabulary positions
and steps that the ballet ignores. Placing the hands on the hips; the
heel on the ground and the toe up; and a “rocking” step, consisting of
rolling from side to side on the sides of the feet--these and other
devices are of the dances of outdoors. In the case of the Scotch they
are so admirably incorporated into the scheme of sharp line and movement
that go to make a staccato unit that--through the sheer magic worked by
cohesion of theme--they avoid the plebeian appearance into which such
movements fall when not artfully combined.
The _Scotch Reel_ has a good deal in common with the _Fling_, and is of
the same general character. It is customarily performed by two couples.
Its distinguishing feature is a figure eight, traced by a little
promenade, each of the performers winding in and out among the other
three. Even this promenade is performed in a sharp skipping step, that
the dance may lose none of its national flavour. A variation of this
dance is the _Reel of Tulloch_, popular in all parts of Scotland, and
distinguished principally by its history. Legend places its origin in a
country church, in winter; while the congregation waited for the belated
minister, they danced to keep warm, and in the course of the dancing
evolved a choreographic composition that made their village famous. The
_Strathspey_ alluded to in literature appears also to have been a
variety of the _Reel_.
The _Shean Treuse_, a rollicking dance that covers a good deal of
ground, is--according to legend--the representation of a small boy’s
delight with his first pair of trousers. Naturally, it is based on a
series of prancing steps, in each of which the leg is brought to
horizontal to keep the trousers in evidence.
This concludes the list of the well-known dances of Scotland. Of the
number the most representative, or one may say classic, are the _Sword
Dance_ and the _Fling_.
England has to her credit one dance, notwithstanding all that has been
said and written to the disparagement of her originality in the arts;
and, with execution to help it, a very respectable dance it is, as well
as a monument to a social element that has contributed powerfully to
England’s rank among the nations. The dance is the _Sailor’s Hornpipe_.
It is a dance of character in the truest sense, being based on the
movements associated with the sailor’s duties. Accompanying himself with
a tuneful patter of foot-work, the performer pantomimes hauling at
ropes, rowing, standing watch, and sundry other duties of the sea-dog
who dealt with sails and not with coal. The hands are placed on the hips
palm out, to avoid touching the clothing with the tar that--as everybody
knows--always covered the palms of the deep-sea sailor. While not in any
sense a great dance, it is uncommonly ingenious and amusing in its
combination of patter of steps and earnest pantomime. It is literally a
sailor’s chantey sung in the terms of movement instead of words of
mouth; even to its division into short stanzas (one for each of the
duties represented) the parallel is exact. Its place in the dancing art
might be defined as the same as the position of the sailor’s chantey in
music.
In England there has been a recent and earnest revival of the _Morris
Dances_, accompanied by a good deal of writing on the subject. In
England they have the importance of being English. They are “quaint,” it
is true. They reflect the romping, care-free spirit of Merry England;
they bring to the cheek of buxom lass the blush of health; they are
several centuries old; they follow the antique usage of performance to
accompaniment sung by the dancers. But their composition--and its
absence--commends them to the attention of the antiquarian and the
sociologist, rather than that of a seeker after evolved dancing.
The word “Morris,” according to the suggestion offered by certain
scholars, is a corruption of “Moorish”; which theory of its derivation
is not confirmed by step, movement or sentiment to be found in the
dance. What does seem reasonably possible is that it is of Gipsy
derivation. Gipsies are sometimes known--in Scotland at least--as
“Egyptians”; so why not, by a similar abeyance of accuracy in England,
as Moors?--a process of near-reasoning the value of whose conclusion is
nothing at all. At any rate, the _Morris_ dancers have a tradition of
hanging little bells around their arms and legs, and decorating
themselves with haphazard streamers of ribbon, which is Gipsy-esque.
Stories are recorded to the effect that there have been performers who
tuned their bells, and by the movements of the dance played tunes on
them. The stories offer no definite information as to the quality of
dance or music.
The _Morris_ seems to have been a dance for men only, in which respect
it was unique among the old English forms unearthed in the recent
revival of interest. Many of these dances certainly are interesting, if
not in actual choreographic merit, in association. Their very names are
rich in flavour, such as _All in a Garden Green_, _The Old Maid in
Tears_, _Hempstead Heath_, _Greensleeves_ (mentioned in _The Merry Wives
of Windsor_), _Wasp’s Maggott_, _Dull Sir John_, and others equally
suggestive of rustic naturalness and fun. Their revivals by Miss Coles
and Miss Chaplin include full directions for performance, which is
simple. Several of them preserve the ancient usage of saluting the
partner with a kiss--which is not mentioned as a warning, but as an
observation merely.
England has been among the nations to preserve the institution of
dancing around a pole--among the English-speaking so commonly known as
the “Maypole” that its use in the celebration of anything but the coming
of spring seems incongruous. Other peoples, nevertheless, incorporate it
into religious celebrations and what-not. The device of suspending
ribbons from the top of the pole, and weaving them around it by means of
an interlacing figure described by the dancers, seems to be universal.
The steps employed are the simplest possible--those of the _Waltz_,
_Polka_, or _Schottische_, varied perhaps with an occasional turn. It is
another instance of a semiformalised romp called by the title of dance.
In passing it may be noted that the Maypole has become a part of the
Mayday celebration of the New York public school children--and those of
other cities, for anything we know to the contrary. Some hundreds of
poles distributed over a green, each with its brightly coloured group
twinkling around it, tickles the eye with a feast of sparkle, at least.
The same outing is the occasion of an exhibition of the character
dancing that the children have learned as part of their school work
during the preceding year. The exhibited skill is higher than one would
expect, and remarkable, considering the difficulties in the way of
imparting it. In one direction the celebration probably attains to the
superlative: its participants numbering as they do well up in the
thousands, and occupying about a quarter-section of ground, there is
nothing in history to indicate that it does not constitute, in point of
sheer size and numbers, the biggest ballet the world has ever seen.
Ireland has a group of dances exclusively her own, unique in structure,
and developed to the utmost limit of their line of excellence. Their
distinguishing property is complicated rhythmic music of the feet. The
_Jig_, the _Reel_ and the _Hornpipe_ of Ireland are at once the most
difficult and the most highly elaborated dances of the clog and shuffle
type that can be found. In them are passages in which the feet tap the
floor seventy-five times in a quarter of a minute.
They have, too, the art that interprets the character of their people.
But it is not the Irishman of the comic supplement that they reveal.
Rather, by means of their own vocabulary of suggestion, the eloquence of
which begins where words fail, they present the acute Hibernian wit that
animates the brain of Irishmen like Shaw. Intricate combinations of
keen, exact steps, the Irish dances are a series of subtle epigrams
directed to the eye. And like the epigrams that proceed from true wit,
they are expressed so modestly that their significance may be quite lost
on an intelligence not in sympathy with the manner of thought that lies
back of them. To the end
[Illustration: IRISH DANCES
Mr. Thomas Hill and Mr. Patrick Walsh
The _Jig_ (1, 3, 4)--The _Hornpipe_ (2, 5)--The _Reel_ (6, 7, 8)]
[Illustration: A “FOUR-HAND REEL”
Preparation for woman’s turn under arms (1)--Characteristic style (2)--A
turning group figure (3)]
of convincing us onlookers that this everyday world is made up of
nothing but happiness, the music of tapping shoe flatters our senses
without shame, chloroforms reason and shows us the truth--that our minds
at least will float in the air like dancers’ bodies, if we but abandon
them to the rhythmic charm that coaxes them to forget their
sluggishness. Irish dancing has too often been the victim of caricature.
In all truth, its refined intricacy makes it cousin rather to the _Book
of Kells_, whose ancient decoration of rich yet simple interlacement
gives it place among the masterpieces of the book-designer’s art.
The intent of the art of Irish dancing is the sooner understood by a
word of negative description to begin with: namely, it is at the
opposite pole from dancing of posture, broad movement, or pantomime. All
its resources, on the contrary, are concentrated in making music of the
feet. Happy music it is, with lightness of execution as a part of it.
That no incident may distract attention from foot-work, the body is held
almost undeviatingly erect, and the arms passive at the sides; and this
is in accordance with unquestioned usage.
Among the dancers represented in the accompanying photographs is Mr.
Thomas Hill, four times winner of the championship of Ireland. “The
thing of greatest importance in Irish dancing,” Mr. Hill says, “is the
music of the shoes. In the eleven years that I have been dancing, the
greater part of my attention has been spent on the development and
control of the variety of tones that can be produced by taps of heels
and soles on the floor and against each other. Style is necessary, of
course, as in any other dancing, and so is exactness in ‘tricky’ time.
But control of a good variety of sounds, which is the most difficult
part of Irish dancing, is the most important because it is the most
Irish.”
Once in a great while coincidence puts one in the way of hearing the
work of a virtuoso on the snare-drum. Within a minute the effect is
found to be nothing less than hypnotic. Every one within hearing is
patting time, swaying with the time, restraining the most urgent impulse
to do something that will bring every fibre of his body into unison with
that inebriating rhythm. Now, the feet of a fine Irish dancer are
drumsticks as amenable to control as the drummer’s; notes long and
short, dull and sharp--he has all the drum’s variety. No resource of
syncopation, emphasis, or change is unknown to the Irish dances; the
rhythm gets into the blood--with double the seductiveness of sound
alone, since every tap on the tympanum is reinforced by the same metric
beating on the vision. Joined to the resulting exhilaration is the
peculiar excitement always felt in the presence of suspended
gravitation; for no less than suspended gravitation it is when the foot
of a man taps the ground like the paw of a kitten, and the body floats
in the air like a bird that has paused but will not alight. The good
Saint Basil was not only eloquent when he asked what could be more
blessed than to imitate on earth the dancing of the angels. His question
carries with it the important indication that he had seen an _Irish
Reel_ in his day. Because, among all the dances that are stepped on this
mortal earth, what other is so light that the saint could see in it the
pastime of angels?
For the sake of accuracy, let it not be thought that the steps of the
_Reel_ and the _Jig_, and the _Hornpipe_ as well, were not old while
Christianity was new. Mr. Patrick J. Long, himself at once a dancer of
pronounced ability and a well-read scholar on Irish history, writes for
this chapter: “In the days of Druidism, the Irish nation celebrated an
annual feast lasting six days; three days before the first of November,
and three days after. Coming after the season of harvest, it probably
was like a Thanksgiving. The celebration was called in Gaelic a _Feis_
(pronounced ‘fesh’). Now it was the custom, at the time of the _Feis_
for the nobles of Ireland, and their ladies, and bards and harpists from
far and near, to gather at the castle of the king; and there for six
days there were competitions in all kinds of music and dancing.
“The dance that was popular with the nobles and their ladies was called
the _Rinnce Fadha_ (pronounced ‘reenka faudha’). This we know was a
dance for several couples. It was a favourite of King Leoghaire
(pronounced ‘Leery’), who ruled Ireland when St. Patrick came to convert
the people from paganism. From it was derived in a later century the
form of the _Sir Roger de Coverley_; from the _Sir Roger_ came the
_Virginia Reel_ of America.
“The dances of Ireland are variations on the _Reel_, _Jig_ and
_Hornpipe_. The _Reel_ is probably the most classic; it is executed in a
gliding movement, and is speedy and noiseless. The _Jig_ and the
_Hornpipe_ have a good deal in common. Both use clogging and shuffling;
that is, taps of heel or sole on the floor, and light scrapes of the
sole. Of the two the _Hornpipe_ contains the more clogging. But it is
richer than the _Clog Dance_ that it resembles more or less. It is less
mechanical, more varied and has prettier foot-work.
“The _Reel_ and the _Jig_ are danced as solos by man or woman, by two
men, two women, a couple, two men and a woman, two, three, four or
eight couples. In ‘set dances,’ as they are called when performed by a
‘set’ of couples, the steps are simpler than in solo work; and the time
also is simpler in the music of set dances than in the airs used to
accompany solos and the work of teams of two. There are _Hop Jigs_,
_Slip Jigs_, _Single_ and _Triple Jigs_ in 9-8 time. Another peculiarity
of Irish dancing, due to the character of the music, is in the
irregularities of repetition of the work of one leg with the other leg.
The right leg may do the principal work through eight bars; the same
work is naturally to be repeated then with the left leg; but often the
composition of the music gives the left leg only six bars. This is good
because unexpected, but it adds a great deal to the difficulty of
learning Irish dancing.”
The above-named dances represent the utmost development of clogging,
which is tapping of heels, and shuffling, or scraping of the sole on the
floor. Foot-work, especially that of short and rapid steps, is the
element impossible to show in pictorial form. Accompanying photographs,
therefore, give little idea of the charm of the art of Mr. Hill, Mr.
Long, Mr. Walsh, Miss Murray and Miss Reardon, from whom they were
taken.
Thanks to the American branch of the Gaelic League and its activity in
the cause of Ireland’s arts, Irish dancing is in a flourishing condition
in this country. In intelligent public interest, standards of excellence
and number of capable performers, America now leads even Ireland. Mr.
Hill attributes this to a combination of well-directed enthusiasm, and
the practice of holding four important competitions each year. These are
divided among as many cities. Capable management
[Illustration: THE “IRISH JIG”
Miss Murray, Miss Reardon, Mr. Hill, Mr. Walsh--Single figure, Mr.
Patrick J. Long
To face page 178]
attracts competitors of good class and large numbers, and they are
classified in such a way that there is hope for all. Liberality in
prizes is an added stimulus. All told, Mr. Hill says that one _feis_ of
the four annually held in this country accomplishes as much in the
interest of dancing as is done in Ireland in a year.
Dublin and Cork each has its annual _feis_, with an interval of
half-a-year between the two. Each has the dancing championship
competition among its features; Mr. Hill’s title was won in 1909, ’10
and ’11 at Cork, also in 1911 at Dublin. As the Gaelic League has
prominent among its purposes the restoration to popular use of the
Gaelic language, dancing is only one of several artistic contests.
Singing, elocution, and conversation, all in the ancient Irish tongue,
have their respective laurel-seeking votaries. Superiority in the
playing of violin and flute is rewarded, as in playing the war pipes and
union pipes. (War pipes, as may not be universally known, are the Scotch
form of bagpipes, played by lung power; the wind for union pipes, in
distinction, is supplied by bellows held under the arm.) And until
within a couple of years _lilting_ has been competed in--the old singing
without words, “tra-la-la-dee” sort of thing. The irreverent called it
“pussy-singing.” Athletic games are included for the sake of variety.
Prizes in all events are usually medals.
The _feis_ in America follows the same model. Dancing enjoys a
gratifying popularity. Good work always incites the spectators to shout
their enthusiasm. With a prevailing eagerness to learn to judge it more
exactly, and a highly respectable knowledge of it at the present moment,
there exists also that most wholesome adjunct to interest, a division of
beliefs as to school. The Cork technique is comparatively short in
step, and very precise; Limerick favours a rather looser type of
movement. And there comes in the world-old argument between the Academic
and (by whatever name it matters not) the Impressionistic creeds. Each
claims to represent the true Hibernianism.
Sweden, during a period beginning a few years ago, has taken up an
enthusiastic revival of the dances of the Scandinavian world. The
movement began with the foundation by the late Dr. Hazélius of the
Museum of the North, and is carried on by his son.
The Museum was planned to bring together a representation of Scandinavia
of old, in such a complete way as to show not only products and methods
of manufacture, but modes of life and social customs. The result is
unique among undertakings of the kind. In a park called the Skansen are
preserved the Scandinavian flora and fauna, in appropriate surroundings.
Farms are cultivated in the manner of the various provinces, and on the
farms are their appropriate buildings, characteristic in every detail.
To complete the re-creation of antiquity, churches and all the other
structures pertinent to community life are included.
The numerous people required to animate such an establishment, including
as it does accommodations for visitors, are the expositors of the
national dances. Farmers, shoemakers, waiters in the cafés, are required
to learn and practise them, and present them publicly three times a
week. It goes without saying that they dress at all times in the costume
of the locality of which they are representatives.
The influences of the Skansen have been of a sort to gratify its
founder. Society now, as a custom, dresses itself for garden parties in
the picturesque gaiety and brilliant colour of old Scandinavia, and
dances the _Skralât_ and _Kadriljs_ of the peasants. A saying has sprung
up that “dancing is a form of patriotism.” The sentiment has impressed
itself no less upon the working people than upon the rich. Children
receive dancing instruction gratis in the Skansen, and knowledge has
spread into all parts of Sweden. Now, instead of the _Polka_, which
fifty years ago swept over Scandinavia and fastened itself on the land
with a hold that smothered every other dance, are to be seen the merry
steps and forms that are distinctively of the Norseland, accompanied by
the old music. A princess of the royal house sanctions the revival of
Scandinavianism (if the word be permitted) to the extent of dressing
herself and the servants at her summer-place according to the new-old
modes. She is popular and the movement is strengthened accordingly.
The dances are simple in step, though often complicated in figure;
lively and gay in manner, and rich in pantomime. Accepted standards of
execution require decided grace and a good style. Gustavus III, when he
visited France, is said to have been deeply impressed by the exquisite
dancing of Marie Antoinette and her court. The element of beauty to be
seen in Swedish dancing is supposed to be due in part, at least, to that
royal visit.
One of the most pleasing dance-arrangements is inspired by the work of
the weaver, with the happy changes of effect constantly wrought by the
action of the loom. The _Vafva Vadna_ this dance is called. It is highly
complicated, the stretched threads are simulated in the lines of
performers, through whom flashes back and forth the girl who represents
the movements of the shuttle. Rich variety is gained by involved
intercrossings of the lines of boys and girls.
The taming of womankind is the motive of the pantomimic _Daldans_. Over
the head of the meekly kneeling woman the man swings his foot, as a
symbol; in another figure the woman’s coquetry reduces the man to
helplessness. The _Vingakersdans_ pantomimes the competition of two
women for the same man. The favoured one seats herself a moment on the
man’s knee, and finishes the number by waltzing with him; while the
defeated charmer bites her nails with vexation.
These are characteristic specimens of a very numerous group. Their
revival seems to progress more rapidly in the villages than in the big
cities--interesting as a case of the country leading the cities in a
movement of modernism. Many of the pantomimes are based on work from
which the rural population is less remote than are those who dwell in
cities. The movements of making a shoe are known to every villager; he
has watched the cobbler many a time, and known him usually as the local
philosopher. Upon the village, therefore, no touch of character in the
_Cobblers’ Dance_ would be lost. The humours of harvesting might in like
manner fail to reach a city audience without the aid of spoken word;
harvest, with other elemental work, provides many of the Scandinavian
dance motives.
Holland and Belgium are alike unproductive of dancing of much
choreographic value. The strength of the people is not accompanied by
either the lightness or agility found in dancing nations. As a
coincidence, it is notable that dancing does not flourish in regions of
wooden shoes. The Dutch have a species of sailors’ dance called the
_Mâtelot_, performed by groups of men and women; but it is a romp and
little or nothing more. This is characteristic of the dances of the
Netherlands, as is confirmed by _genre_ pictures from the time of
Teniers down to the present.
The _Waltz_, it should be said at this point, is universal. If ever it
is asserted that the people of a locality do not dance, an exception may
be made to cover the _Waltz_, so long as the locality referred to is in
the Occident. The seeming caution with which peasants perform their
_Waltzes_ practically removes them from the category of dancing, though
not from that of humour.
France, the Eden of the Grand Ballet, the home of a race of lovers of
beauty, might be expected to abound in rich character dances; but the
exact reverse is true. The people of the country are, first of all,
workers; the dances that enliven their fêtes are the careless
celebration of children released from confining tasks. The principal
cities have their opera ballets; through them is supplied the national
demand for choreographic beauty.
The old name of _la Bourrée_ survives in Auvergne. In its present form
it bears no resemblance to the old _Bourrée_ of eighteenth-century
courts, but is one of those informal frolics of an indefinite number of
couples, hand-clapping, finger-snapping, and energetic bounding, mingled
with shouts of joy.
The _Farandole_ is popular in the South of France. Under its name a
chain of boys and girls, united by handkerchiefs that they hold,
“serpentines” and zigzags in directions dictated by the caprice of their
leader, perhaps traversing the length of the streets of a village. From
time to time the leading couple will halt and form their arms into an
arch for those following to pass under; or again stop the procession in
such a way as to wind up the line into a compact mass. Again the game
partakes of the nature of “follow the leader,” the whole party imitating
the leader in any antic he may perform.
The ancient _Contredanses_--which word England changed to _Country
Dances_, of frequent mention in story--were the roots of modern
_Quadrilles_. These, however, are polished out of any semblance to
character dances; they are of the ballroom and infinitely removed from
the soil.
Germany, with its fondness for legend and care in its preservation,
would be a fertile field for search on the part of a compiler of ancient
observances more or less allied to dancing. A specimen of the latter is
the _Perchtentanz_ of Salzburg. Perchta is another name for Freya,
Woden’s consort and the mother of the Northmen’s gods. She is powerful
even in these modern times, and malicious unless propitiated by proper
formulæ of actions and words. Placing a spoonful of food from each dish
of the Christmas dinner for her on the fence outside the house is one of
the tributes. She has spirit-followers: some kindly, called “_schön
Perchten_,” others wild and fierce, known as “_schiachen Perchten_.” The
latter alight on houses and scream mischievously, lure men into danger
and punish undiscovered crimes.
At irregular intervals is performed the _Perchtentanz_; not apparently
as an act of propitiation, but presumably having that motive as its
origin. Good and evil _Perchten_ both are represented. On an
accompanying page of European miscellany is a drawing of one of the
“beautiful.” The huge plaques are covered with sparkling trinkets and
adorned with braid, ribbon and embroidery. Stuffed birds are also
popular for their decorations; a dozen of them may be affixed to the
lower plaque, a
[Illustration: FROM VARIOUS FOLK-DANCES.
Scandinavian.
Hungarian.
From the _Perchtentanz_ of Salzburg.
Russian.
Scandinavian.
Bavarian.
Russian Court (Princess Chirinski-Chichmatoff.)]
smaller number to the upper; an ambitious crown to the whole is
sometimes seen in the form of a peacock with spread wings. The structure
is supported by a rod running down the bearer’s back, and fastened to
him by belts. Its weight prohibits any movement to which the word
“dancing” applies except as a convenience; but a series of slow and
necessarily careful evolutions performed by the wearers of these
displays is called a dance, nevertheless. Meantime the “fierce
Perchten,” made up with masks as demoniac as possible, run about among
the legs of the crowd and do their best to startle people. The spirit
accompanying the celebration is levity, modified only by the sincere
admiration considered due the serious decorations. They represent a
great deal of work and considerable money.
In various parts of Savoy is performed on St. Roch’s Day what is called
the _Bacchu-ber_. On a platform erected in front of a church, and
decorated with garlands and fir-trees, a group of men dance with short
swords; passing under bridges of swords, forming chains by grasping one
another’s weapons, and so on. That its origin is pre-Christian seems a
reasonable conjecture; but nothing specific is known about it.
Munich celebrates with dancing an episode connected with an epidemic of
cholera: the guild of coopers decided that the care the people were
taking against exposure was defeating its purpose, since it was keeping
them indoors to the detriment of health. They therefore went out and
enjoyed themselves as usual, for the sake of example. Others did the
same, and the plague ceased. Periodically the brave coopers are
honoured, therefore, by dances of large companies of people, who carry
garlanded arches and execute triumphal figures.
[Illustration: THE “SCHUHPLATTELTANZ”
Herr and Frau Nagel
A swing
A turn
A turn, man passing under a woman’s arms
A swing, back-to-back
The mirror
To face page 186]
[Illustration: THE “SCHUHPLATTELTANZ” OF BAVARIA
Preparing a turn (1)--A lift (2)--Starting woman’s series of turns
(3)--Start of woman’s turns (4)--Man fans her along with hands
(5)--Finish of dance (6)
To face page 187
]
The foregoing instances are no more than a specimen of the varieties of
tradition that dancing may commemorate. Europe collectively doubtless
will produce thousands of such dances, when the task of collecting them
is entered upon with the necessary combination of leisure and zeal.
Bavaria’s _Schuhplatteltanz_ is altogether delightful in itself, without
aid from history or tradition to supplement its interest. It is full of
a quaint Tyrolean grace mingled with happy and delicate grotesquery.
Women it causes to spin as though they were some quaint species of
combination doll and top; the atmosphere that surrounds a marvellous and
pretty mechanical toy is preserved in a delicate unreality in the
pantomime and in the treatment throughout.
It is accompanied by zithers, instruments which themselves sing of a
world suspended somewhere in the air. In silvery, floating tones they
play less a waltz than the dream of a waltz, in sounds as unmaterial as
the illusive voice of an Æolian harp.
A little opening promenade; a few bars of the couple’s waltzing
together--in steps infinitesimal, prim with conscious propriety. The man
raises the girl’s hand and starts her spinning. She neither retards nor
helps, being a little figure of no weight, moved solely by power from
without itself. Her skirt stands out as straight and steady as though it
were cardboard; her partner must lean far over now, not to touch it and
spoil the spin. Now she is whirling perfectly; with a parting impulse to
her arm, he releases her. On she turns, at a speed steady as clockwork,
revolving, as a top will, slowly around a large circle.
Her partner follows, beating time in a way that bewilders eye and ear
alike; for his hands pat shoes and leather breeches with a swiftness
incredible and ecstatic. Of this perhaps sixteen bars when, as though
his partner were beginning to “run down,” he starts blowing her along
with vigorous puffs. Nevertheless, she is slowing down; the skirt is
settling. He reaches over it, gets his hands on her waist. To the last
the spinning illusion is preserved by an appearance of her rotary motion
being stopped only by the pressure of the man’s hand as a brake.
The foregoing interpretation is suggested by the delicate work of Herr
and Frau Nagel, and the company with which they are associated. It is a
dance whose fancy easily could disappear under its mechanics, if
performed without imagination.
Having caught his partner after her spin, waltzed again with her for a
few bars, and lifted her up at arm’s length in sheer playfulness, the
man joins arms with her in such fashion as to form almost a duplicate of
the “mirror” figure of the _Minuet_. The courtliness of the cavalier in
the _Minuet_ is matched by adroitness on the part of the
_schuhplatteltanzer_; he contrives to draw his partner’s head nearer and
nearer to his, as they walk around in a lessening circle. Finally, when
the circle of the promenade can become no smaller, and the faces have
come close to the imaginary mirror framed by the arms, he suddenly but
daintily kisses her lips.
Germany is the home of the _Waltz_, of which it has evolved several
varieties. The _Rheinlander Waltz_ is perhaps the most popular. In one
form or another it has spread through the Balkan countries; not,
however, with any apparent detriment to the native dances, because of
these dances’ natural crudeness. Servia, Montenegro and the neighbouring
monarchies celebrate weddings and christenings and enliven picnics with
a “round” called in Servian language the _Kolo_, that employs the simple
old figures of the bridge of arms and the like, but which, as to step,
is quite formless. Colour in the costumes goes far to provide
spectacular interest to these exuberant frolics. The linen gowns of the
women are embroidered in big--and good--designs of two distinct reds,
scarlet and rose; emerald-green and a warm yellow-green; the most
brilliant of yellows; wine-colour and blue. As is frequently found in a
region that has kept a scheme of design through a sufficient number of
generations to allow the formation of traditions based on long
experiment, the seemingly impossible is accomplished by the peasant
women of the Balkans: the colours whose enumeration on the same page
would seem outrageous are, in practical application, brought into
harmony. It is a question of proportionate size of spots of colour, and
their juxtaposition. The results of using the same colours in new
designs is to be seen in the expressions of sundry new schools of
painting that refuse to acknowledge limitations.
Men’s sleeves and waistcoats are frequently embroidered in the same way
as the jacket and sleeves of the women, as exemplified in the
accompanying photographs of Madame Koritiç. Loose linen trousers, which
are sometimes worn, may be likewise decorated. In the sunlight and in
appropriate surroundings, a performance of the _Kolo_ should be a sight
to dispel trouble, whatever its deficiencies from the point of view of
dancing.
Greece, too, diverts itself with rustic rounds, as formless as in other
lands. Of the Hellas that gave the Occident its civilisation there
remain some architectural ruins, to which latter-day inhabitants of the
land may have given some care; and certain statues, preserved in the
museums of other lands. For Hellenic ideals and Attic salt, search the
hat-boy at the entrance to the restaurant. The Greek of to-day is a
composite of Turk and Slav; his dances have neither the grace of the one
nor the fire of the other. The discovery in Greece of survivors of
ancient dances--which discovery is occasionally asserted--may have a
basis in fact; but more likely its foundation is in a similarity between
an ancient and a modern word. But enough of disappointments and of great
things lost.
Hungary, Russia and Poland have a family of strictly national dances
that not only take a position among the world’s best character dances;
without departing from their true premise as expressions of racial
temperament, some of them attain to the dignity of great romantic art,
combined with optical beauty of the highest order. A _Czardás_ in one of
the Pavlowa programmes (season 1913-14) showed qualities of
choreographic composition that were equalled, in that entertainment,
only by the ballet arrangements of the most capable composers whose
works were represented. The juxtaposition of ballet and character
numbers, performed with the same skill and accompanied by the same
orchestra, furnished an uncommonly good measure of the folk-dances’
actual merit.
The _Czardás_, the _Mazurka_ and the _Cossack Dance_ of Russia and the
_Obertass_ of Poland form a group that occupy in the dance the place
that Liszt’s “Hungarian Rhapsody” fills in music: they are the candid
[Illustration: THE “KOLO” OF SERVIA
Madame Koritiç
Start of a turn
Progress of a turn
A bridge of arms
An emphasis
A lift
]
[Illustration: POSES FROM SLAVONIC DANCES]
Miss Lydia Lopoukowa
Coquetry
Petulance
Indifference
Emphasis
Jocular defiance]
revelation of the heart of a people simple, sympathetic, unrestrainedly
romantic, violently impulsive. Each represents an exciting diversity of
ammunition, fired in one rousing volley; an expression to which one may
become accustomed, but which always remains unfamiliar, and which always
produces an intoxicating shock. The abrupt changes of movement from slow
to fast, from furious speed to a dead standstill; the recurrent
crescendo from short, close movement to broad sweeps, open _jeté_ turns,
and the lowest of “dips”; the diverse effects gained by play of
rhythm--such effects are indescribable in word or picture. Fortunately,
however, characteristic poses are within the range of the snapshot; so
also, to an extent, is the expression of human moods--if portrayed by
rare pantomimic ability.
Possession of such ability, backed by the unfettered imagination of the
Tartar and accompanied by superlative artistry, describes Miss Lydia
Lopoukowa. To her great kindness this book is indebted for the
accompanying photographs representing characteristic poses and moods of
northern Slavonic dancing. Taken from the work of such an artist, the
pictures represent an idealisation, or perfection, of their subjects.
They show movements of the dances themselves, in their spirit, without
the usual limitations imposed by physique. The clean-cut definition of
pose; the co-ordination of pose and features in all the expressions of
allurement, appeal, petulance, esctasy--these represent a standard at
which the merely mortal dancer aims, but a conjunction of conditions
that one may hope to see accomplished few times in the course of one
life.
Yet, as noted before, the dances are so composed that, performed with a
degree of skill not uncommon in their native land, they are rich and
surprising. In steps, the Russian, Austrian and Polish group have most
of their material in common: naturally, since they are united by ties of
race. The salient point by which each dance is distinguished, in the eye
of the spectator, is one big step.
The _Czardás_ employs a long glided step that is all its own. The active
foot is started well to the rear, and glided forward; the glide is
accompanied by a very low _plié_ of the supporting knee; as the active
foot comes into advanced position, the dancer sharply straightens up,
rises to the ball of the supporting foot, and continues the advancing
foot forward and upward in a rapid kick. The masculine version drops the
body lower, and kicks higher, than the feminine; but even the latter’s
change of elevation remains fixed in the memory.
In the _Obertass_, the man goes into the low stooping position, in
connection with executing a very individual _rond de jambe_. At the
moment, he is face to face with his partner, his hands on the sides of
her waist, her hands on his shoulders; after a swift step-turn in the
usual direction, he takes a long step backward (she forward), and,
keeping his right leg extended before him, stoops until he is squatting
on his left heel; the right leg, held straight, is swept rapidly around
to the rear; meanwhile the couple continues to turn. The man’s momentum
turns him until he faces in the same direction with his partner. He
springs up on her right side, and goes with her into a short, fast
polka-step. During the turn, the woman keeps hold of the man to prevent
centrifugal force from flinging him into space.
In the _Mazurka_ (not the ballroom version) the same
[Illustration: POSES FROM SLAVONIC DANCES
Miss Lydia Lopoukowa
Negation (1)--Fear (2)--Supplication (3)--An emphasis (4)]
[Illustration: POSES FROM SLAVONIC DANCES
Miss Lydia Lopoukowa
Characteristic gesture (1)--Characteristic step (2)--Characteristic
gesture (3)--Characteristic step (4)--Same, another view (5)--Ecstasy
(6)--The claim of beauty (7)]
step, modified as to elevation, is performed by both man and woman,
alternately, during certain passages.
The _Szolo_, a Hungarian dance introduced into America by Mr. and Mrs.
Hartmann, gives the woman a unique turn in the air. The woman standing
at her partner’s right, the two join their crossed hands above her head,
she reaching up, he downward. She is turned by being swung through the
air--in a horizontal position--finishing on her partner’s left side. The
arms, of course, have “unwound” from their first position, and
re-crossed in its converse position. This movement, masterfully
executed, is one of the devices by which the dance contradicts gravity.
Ill done, of course, it would be as painful for spectator as performer.
But these dances are not often ill done--at least by the people to whom
they belong. We are credibly informed that the problems of involved
steps and tricky tempo, exacting requirements of agility and expression,
are met with a laugh; that, while great virtuosity is naturally rare,
real elegance of execution is the rule. Which leads back, of course, to
national choreographic traditions and ideals. The artistic level they
occupy in Russia (and presumably Hungary and Poland) is indicated
in a few lines of a letter to the authors from Princess
Chirinski-Chichmatoff, of Moscow. Apart from its value as quite the
finest statement of the meaning of character dancing that is to be found
in the literature of choreography, the paragraph has the interest of
showing one of the reasons why the folk-dancing of northeastern Europe
is good:
_In every dance the principal things are the harmony_ (1) _of movements
with the rhythm of the music_, (2) _of movements with the subject that
the music represents_, _and_ (3) _of the sentiments with the pantomime,
to give a certain impression; and finally this, that it should be a
dance which has exclusively the national character, with the movements
natural_ [familiers] _to a certain people and to a certain epoch. In the
dance the artist ought to show all the richness of his soul; ought to
instil into his movements all of that which the sculptor puts into his
marble; while above the idea and the mood ought to be felt the beauty
and freedom of movements and lines_.
Quite a difference between that and some other national ideas of
character dancing!
Describing her national dance (i. e., the _Cossack Dance_ and its
derivatives) she writes:
“The Russian dance is composed in two parts, Adagio and Allegro. In each
part we see the traits most natural to the people, and which were formed
in historic times, under other conditions.
“1. Adagio: length, freedom, tranquillity of movement with much dignity
and grace, and with a little softness and simplicity; all relating to
the traits that were formed during the period when all Russian women
passed the whole time in their _térémas_ (house of Russian style),
retired from the world, working and singing, thinking melancholy
thoughts about life but never seeing it in reality, never leaving the
house nor being seen except on the rare occasion of visits.
“2. Allegro: expresses, with the gay and popular songs, the vivacity,
the carelessness, the humour and the pleasantry that were born in a
people still a little barbarous and simple, whose sadness and gaiety
were somewhat naïve. All the traits natural to the Russian people are
portrayed in their national dance and in the simple music created from
the most popular and beloved songs.”
Within the form so sketched there is room for a wide variety of
interpretation. The peasant expresses the motives of happiness and
vivacity in movements that translate the joy of an almost wild man. An
advance while maintaining a low squatting position, the spring for each
step coming from a leg bent double, is a grotesquery trying to the
strength of the toughest thighs. Still more difficult and as grotesque
is a movement of squatting on one heel, and rapidly tracing circles with
the extended leg held straight, as though it were the arm of a compass.
The feminine version of the movements is less violent; but the Allegro
portion of the woman’s work is nevertheless tremendously animated in the
rustic version of this dance.
As the court of seventeenth-century France took the dances of the
peasant and modified them into adornments of ceremonious occasions, so
polite society has done in Russia. The _Court Dance_ is the result.
Refinement has not robbed it of the national qualities described by
Princess Chirinski; her own performance of it demonstrates, in almost
spiritual terms, the “dignity and grace,” the “little softness and
simplicity,” the “sadness and gaiety” that she puts into words. Through
her performance, too, runs an undercurrent of the indefinable--a hint of
latent mystery that is not European. It is a quality not infrequently
sensed in the work of artists of Tartar blood; it is a trace of the
Orient.