DANCES.
We are indebted to Shakespeare for having bequeathed to us many
interesting allusions to some of the old dances in use in his day, but
which have long ago passed into oblivion. As will be seen, these were of
a very diverse character, but, as has been remarked, were well suited to
the merry doings of our forefathers; and although in some cases they
justly merited censure for their extravagant nature, yet the greater
part of these sources of diversion were harmless. Indeed, no more
pleasing picture can be imagined than that of a rustic sheep-shearing
gathering in the olden times, when, the work over, the peasantry joined
together in some simple dance, each one vieing with his neighbor to
perform his part with as much grace as possible.
_Antic._ This was a grotesque dance. In "Macbeth" (iv. 1), the witch,
perceiving how Macbeth is affected by the horrible apparitions which he
has seen, says to her sisters:
"Come, sisters, cheer we up his sprites,
And show the best of our delights.
I'll charm the air to give a sound,
While you perform your antic round."
To quote another instance, Armado, in "Love's Labour's Lost" (v. 1),
says:
"We will have, if this fadge not, an antique."
_Bergomask Dance._ According to Sir Thomas Hanmer, this was a dance
after the manner of the peasants of Bergomasco, a county in Italy
belonging to the Venetians. All the buffoons in Italy affected to
imitate the ridiculous jargon of that people, and from thence it became
customary to mimic also their manner of dancing. In "A Midsummer-Night's
Dream" (v. 1), Bottom asks Theseus whether he would like "to hear a
Bergomask dance," between two of their company.
_Brawl._ This was a kind of dance. It appears that several persons
united hands in a circle, and gave one another continual shakes, the
steps changing with the tune. With this dance balls were usually
opened.[824] Kissing was occasionally introduced. In "Love's Labour's
Lost" (iii. 1), Moth asks his master: "Will you win your love with a
French brawl."
[824] Douce's "Illustrations of Shakespeare," p. 134.
_Canary._ This was the name of a sprightly dance, the music to which
consisted of two strains with eight bars in each; an allusion to which
is made by Moth in "Love's Labour's Lost" (iii. 1), who speaks of
jigging off a tune at the tongue's end, and canarying to it with the
feet. And in "All's Well that End's Well" (ii. 1), Lafeu tells the king
that he has seen a medicine
"that's able to breathe life into a stone,
Quicken a rock, and make you dance canary
With spritely fire and motion."
This dance is said to have originated in the Canary Islands, an opinion,
however, which has, says Dyce, been disputed.[825]
[825] See Chappell's "Popular Music of the Olden Time," 2d
edition, vol. i. p. 368; Dyce's "Glossary," vol. i. p. 63.
_Cinque-pace._ This was so named from its steps being regulated by the
number five:
"Five was the number of the music's feet,
Which still the dance did with five paces meet."[826]
[826] Quoted by Nares from Sir John Davies on "Dancing." Mr.
Dyce, "Glossary," p. 81, says that Nares wrongly confounded
this with the "gallard."
In "Much Ado About Nothing" (ii. 1), Shakespeare makes Beatrice make a
quibble upon the term; for after comparing wooing, wedding, and
repenting to a Scotch jig, a measure, and a cinque-pace, she says:
"then comes repentance, and, with his bad legs, falls into the
cinque-pace faster and faster, till he sink into his grave." A further
reference occurs in "Twelfth Night" (i. 3), by Sir Toby Belch, who calls
it a "sink-a-pace."
_Coranto._ An allusion to this dance, which appears to have been of a
very lively and rapid character, is made in "Henry V." (iii. 5), where
the Duke of Bourbon describes it as the "swift coranto;" and in "All's
Well that Ends Well" (ii. 3) Lafeu refers to it. A further notice of it
occurs in "Twelfth Night" (i. 3), in the passage where Sir Toby Belch
speaks of "coming home in a coranto."
_Fading._ Malone quotes a passage from "Sportive Wit," 1666, which
implies that this was a rustic dance:
"The courtiers scorn us country clowns,
We country clowns do scorn the court;
We can be as merry upon the downs
As you at midnight with all your sport,
With a _fading_, with a _fading_."
It would appear, also, from a letter appended to Boswell's edition of
Malone, that it was an Irish dance, and that it was practised, upon
rejoicing occasions, as recently as 1803, the date of the letter:
"This dance is still practised on rejoicing occasions in many parts of
Ireland; a king and queen are chosen from amongst the young persons who
are the best dancers; the queen carries a garland composed of two hoops
placed at right angles, and fastened to a handle; the hoops are covered
with flowers and ribbons; you have seen it, I dare say, with the
May-maids. Frequently in the course of the dance the king and queen lift
up their joined hands as high as they can, she still holding the garland
in the other. The most remote couple from the king and queen first pass
under; all the rest of the line linked together follow in succession.
When the last has passed, the king and queen suddenly face about and
front their companions; this is often repeated during the dance, and the
various undulations are pretty enough, resembling the movements of a
serpent. The dancers on the first of May visit such newly wedded pairs
of a certain rank as have been married since last May-day in the
neighborhood, who commonly bestow on them a stuffed ball richly decked
with gold and silver lace, and accompanied with a present in money, to
regale themselves after the dance. This dance is practised when the
bonfires are lighted up, the queen hailing the return of summer in a
popular Irish song beginning:
'We lead on summer--see! she follows in our train.'"
In the "Winter's Tale" (iv. 4), Shakespeare seems to allude to this
dance where he makes the servant, speaking of the pedler, say: "he has
the prettiest love songs for maids; so without bawdry, which is strange;
with such delicate burdens of 'dildos' and 'fadings.'" Some
commentators,[827] however, consider that only the song is meant.
[827] See Knight's "Pictorial Shakespeare," vol. ii. p. 375;
Dyce's "Glossary," 1836, p. 152; "British Popular Customs,"
1876, pp. 276, 277. See also Chappell's "Popular Music of the
Olden Time," 2d edition, vol. i. p. 235; Nares's "Glossary,"
vol. i. p. 292.
_Hay._ Douce[828] says this dance was borrowed by us from the French,
and is classed among the "brawls" in Thoinot Arbeau's "Orchesographie"
(1588). In "Love's Labour's Lost" (v. 1), Dull says: "I will play on
tabor to the Worthies, and let them dance their hay."
[828] "Illustrations of Shakespeare," p. 146.
_Jig._ Besides meaning a merry, sprightly dance, a jig also implied a
coarse sort of comic entertainment, in which sense it is probably used
by Hamlet (ii. 2): "He's for a jig or a tale of bawdry." "It seems,"
says Mr. Collier,[829] "to have been a ludicrous composition in rhyme,
sung, or said, by the clown, and accompanied by dancing and playing upon
the pipe and tabor."[830] an instance of which perhaps occurs in the
Clown's song at the close of "Twelfth Night:"
"When that I was and a little tiny boy."
[829] "History of English Dramatic Poetry," vol. iii. p. 380;
see Dyce's "Glossary," p. 229; Nares's "Glossary," vol. i. p.
450; Singer's "Shakespeare," vol. ix. pp. 198, 219.
[830] "Hamlet:" iii. 2: "your only jig-maker."
Fletcher, in the Prologue to the "Fair Maid of the Inn," says:
"A jig should be clapt at, and every rhyme
Praised and applauded by a clamorous chime."
Among the allusions to this dance we may quote one in "Much Ado About
Nothing" (ii. 1), where Beatrice compares wooing to a Scotch jig; and
another in "Twelfth Night" (i. 3), where Sir Toby Belch says, his "very
walk should be a jig."
_Lavolta._ According to Florio, the lavolta is a kind of turning French
dance, in which the man turns the woman round several times, and then
assists her in making a high spring or _cabriole_. It is thus described
by Sir John Davies:
"Yet is there one the most delightful kind.
A loftie jumping, or a leaping round,
Where arme in arme two dauncers are entwined,
And whirle themselves, with strict embracements bound;
And still their feet an anapest do sound,
An anapest is all their musicks song,
Whose first two feet are short, and third is long."
Douce,[831] however, considers it to be of Italian origin, and says, "It
passed from Italy into Provence and the rest of France, and thence into
England." Scot, too, in his "Discovery of Witchcraft," thus speaks of
it: "He saith, that these night-walking, or rather night-dancing,
witches, brought out of Italie into France that dance which is called
_la Volta_." Shakespeare, in his "Henry V." (iii. 5), makes the Duke of
Bourbon allude to it:
"They bid us to the English dancing-schools,
And teach lavoltas high, and swift corantos."
[831] "Illustrations of Shakespeare," p. 301; see Nares's
"Glossary," vol. ii. p. 498.
Again, in "Troilus and Cressida" (iv. 4), Troilus says:
"I cannot sing,
Nor heel the high lavolt."
_Light o' Love._ This was an old dance tune, and was a proverbial
expression for levity, especially in love matters.[832] In "Much Ado
About Nothing" (iii. 4), Margaret says: "Clap's into 'Light o' love;'
that goes without a burden; do you sing it, and I'll dance it;" to which
Beatrice answers: "Yea, light o' love, with your heels."
[832] Nares's "Glossary," vol. ii. p. 510.
In "Two Gentlemen of Verona" (i. 2), it is alluded to:
"_Julia._ Best sing it to the tune of 'Light o' love.'
_Lucetta._ It is too heavy for so light a tune."
In the "Two Noble Kinsmen" (v. 2), we read:
"He'll dance the morris twenty mile an hour.
And gallops to the tune of 'Light o' love.'"
And in Beaumont and Fletcher's "Chances" (i. 3), Frederic says: "Sure he
has encounter'd some light-o'-love or other."
_Pavan._ This was a grave and majestic dance, in which the gentlemen
wore their caps, swords, and mantles, and the ladies their long robes
and trains. The dancers stepped round the room and then crossed in the
middle, trailing their garments on the ground, "the motion whereof,"
says Sir J. Hawkins, "resembled that of a peacock's tail." It is alluded
to in "Twelfth Night" (v. 1) by Sir Toby: "A passy-measures pavin,"
although the reading of this passage is uncertain, the editors of the
"Globe" edition substituting _panyn_.
It has been conjectured that the "passy-measure galliard," and the
"passy-measure pavan" were only two different measures of the same
dance, from the Italian _passamezzo_.[833]
[833] See Dyce, vol. iii. p. 412, _note_ 121.
_Roundel._ This was also called the "round," a dance of a circular kind,
and is probably referred to by Titania in "A Midsummer-Night's Dream"
(ii. 2), where she says to her train:[834]
"Come now, a roundel and a fairy song."
[834] Roundel also meant a song. Mr. Dyce considers the dance
is here meant.
Ben Jonson, in the "Tale of a Tub,"[835] seems to call the rings, which
such fairy dances are supposed to make, _roundels_.
"I'll have no roundels, I, in the queen's paths."
[835] See Singer's "Shakespeare," vol. ii. p. 333.
_Satyrs' Dance._ A dance of satyrs was a not uncommon entertainment in
Shakespeare's day, or even at an earlier period.[836] It was not
confined to England, and has been rendered memorable by the fearful
accident with which it was accompanied at the Court of France in 1392, a
graphic description of which has been recorded by Froissart. In the
"Winter's Tale" (iv. 4), the satyrs' dance is alluded to by the Servant,
who says: "Master, there is three carters, three shepherds, three
neat-herds, three swine-herds, that have made themselves all men of
hair; they call themselves Saltiers: and they have a dance which the
wenches say is a gallimaufry of gambols, because they are not in't." In
a book of songs composed by Thomas Ravenscroft and others, in the time
of Shakespeare, we find one[837] called the "Satyres' daunce." It is for
four voices, and is as follows:
"Round a round, a rounda, keepe your ring
To the glorious sunne we sing.
Hoe, hoe!
He that weares the flaming rayes,
And the imperiall crowne of bayes,
Him with shoutes and songs we praise.
Hoe, hoe!
That in his bountee would vouchsafe to grace
The humble sylvanes and their shaggy race."
[836] See Knight's "Pictorial Shakespeare," vol. ii. p. 384;
Singer's "Shakespeare," vol. iv. p. 85; Boswell's
"Shakespeare," vol. xiv. p. 371.
[837] See Douce's "Illustrations of Shakespeare," p. 222.
_Sword-dance._ In olden times there were several kinds of sword-dances,
most of which afforded opportunities for the display of skill. In
"Antony and Cleopatra" (iii. 11), there seems to be an allusion to this
custom, where Antony, speaking of Cæsar, says:[838]
"he, at Philippi, kept
His sword e'en like a dancer."
[838] See Strutt's "Sports and Pastimes," 1876, pp. 300, 301;
Douce's "Illustrations of Shakespeare," p. 193.
And in "All's Well that Ends Well" (ii. 1), where Bertram, lamenting
that he is kept from the wars, adds:
"I shall stay here the forehorse to a smock,
Creaking my shoes on the plain masonry,
Till honour be bought up, and no sword worn
But one to dance with."
In "Titus Andronicus" (ii. 1), too, Demetrius says to Chiron:
"Why, boy, although our mother, unadvis'd
Gave you a dancing-rapier by your side."
_Tread a Measure_, to which the King refers in "Love's Labour's Lost"
(v. 2), when he tells Boyet to tell Rosaline
"we have measur'd many miles,
To tread a measure with her on this grass,"
was a grave solemn dance, with slow and measured steps, like the minuet.
As it was of so solemn a nature, it was performed[839] at public
entertainments in the Inns of Court, and it was "not unusual, nor
thought inconsistent, for the first characters in the law to bear a part
in treading a measure."
[839] Singer's "Shakespeare," vol. ii. p. 269; Sir Christopher
Hatton was famous for it.
_Trip and Go_ was the name of a favorite morris-dance, and appears, says
Mr. Chappell, in his "Popular Music of the Olden Times," etc. (2d
edition, vol. i. p. 131), to have become a proverbial expression. It is
used in "Love's Labour's Lost" (iv. 2).
_Up-spring._ From the following passage, in Chapman's "Alphonsus,
Emperor of Germany," it would seem that this was a German dance:
"We Germans have no changes in our dances;
An almain and an up-spring, that is all."
Karl Elze,[840] who, a few years ago, reprinted Chapman's "Alphonsus" at
Leipsic, says that the word "up-spring" "is the 'Hüpfauf,' the last and
wildest dance at the old German merry-makings. No epithet could there be
more appropriate to this drunken dance than Shakespeare's _swaggering_"
in "Hamlet" (i. 4):
"The king doth wake to-night, and takes his rouse,
Keeps wassail, and the swaggering up-spring reels."
[840] Quoted in Dyce's "Glossary," p. 476.