THE FOLK-DANCES OF EUROPE
The rise of nationalism--The Spanish folk-dances: the Fandango;
the Jota; the Bolero; the Seguidilla; other Spanish folk-dances;
general characteristics; costumes--England: the Morris dance;
the Country dance; the Sword dance; the Horn dance--Scotland:
Scotch Reel, Hornpipe, etc.--Ireland: the Jig; British social
dances--France: Rondé, Bourrée and Farandole--Italy: the
Tarantella, etc.--Hungary: the Czardas, Szolo and related dances;
the Esthonians--Germany: the _Fackeltanz_, etc.--Finland;
Scandinavia and Holland--The Lithuanians, Poles and Southern Slavs;
the Roumanians and Armenians--The Russians: ballad dances; the
Kasatchy and Kamarienskaya; conclusion.
The greatest factor in the stimulation of European art, particularly
music, drama and ballet after the bloody Napoleonic wars, was the
rise of nationalism, vigorously manifested in the folk-art--dresses,
customs, decorations, buildings, songs and dances--of various nations.
The first steps in this direction were taken by the Scandinavians:
Grieg, Ibsen, Björnson and August Bournoville. What Noverre was to
aristocratic France that Bournoville was to Scandinavia. Instead of
searching for models and inspiration in the aristocratic traditions of
the past centuries, these men turned to the inexhaustible treasuries of
the national folk-art. And they truly discovered new beauties in the
simple racial traits of the people. In the previously despised peasant
art they found unexpected æsthetic gems, out of which they began to
form the individual beauties of their new art.
The Scandinavians were soon followed by the young Russian dreamers:
Glinka, Dargomijsky, Seroff, Balakireff, Moussorgsky and Tschaikowsky
in music and also in ballet; Gogol, Turgenieff, Dostoievsky and
Ostrovsky in drama and literature, turned in their creations to the
rich and unexploited folk-lore of the people. Russian music, perhaps
more than any other, is a true mirror of the racial soul. There is
fire, gloom, sorrow and joy, remodelled and expressed in the same
racial spirit as that in which the moujik sings his _Ai Ouchnem_, or
builds his _izba_.
The electrifying effect of the Russian dancers upon the European
audiences is not due to the influence of the French Academy, on the
model of which the Russian Imperial Ballet School was formed, as many
music and dance critics of the old and new worlds seem to think, but to
the primitive racial spirit, to the great stage geniuses of the Russian
Empire, who began their work on the basis of ethnographic principles.
It is therefore in the folk-dances that we must look for the solution
of future dance problems, it is in the ethnographic element that is
laid the foundation of the modern art dance.
I
While taking into consideration the folk-dances of various European
nations, we find that those of Spain are the richest in racial
individuality, most passionate in their æsthetic conception, and most
powerful in their dynamic language. With their mediæval mystery, magic
passion, merciless fury, angelic grace and seductive plastic forms the
Spanish folk-dances remain the most impressive examples of folk-art.
The centuries of Inquisition, romantic tragedies of the Moors and the
silhouettes of an Alhambra are all expressed in the voluptuous lines of
a _Jota_ or _Fandango_, regardless of whether they are performed by an
Andalusian or an Aragon beauty.
So manifold is the Spanish folk-dance and so rich the Spanish
imagination that each province has its own peculiar dance, of which,
as in the case of the _Zarzuelas_, the inhabitants are immensely
proud, and which they dance on the occasion of the fêtes of their
patron-saints. The Andalusians boast of their _Bondinas_, the Galicians
of their _Muynieras_, the Murcians of their _Torras_ and _Pavanas_,
etc. Dancing is the great pastime of a Spaniard. A dance of distinctly
Moorish traits is the _Polo_. This is performed to the music of the
_gaita_, a kind of bagpipe, and to the songs accompanying it. Devilier
tells us how the male dancer looks over the girls present and, smiling
on one of them, sings: ‘Come hither, little one, and we’ll dance a
_Polo_ that’ll shake down half Seville.’ ‘The girl so addressed was
perhaps twenty years of age, plump, robust, strapping and supple.
Stepping proudly forward, with that easy swaying of the hips which is
called the _meneo_, she stood in the centre of the court awaiting her
cavalier. Then castañets struck up, accompanied by the gay jingle of
tambourines and the bystanders kept time by tapping the flags of the
yard with their heels or their sword-canes, or by slapping the backs
of the fingers of the right hand, and then striking the two palms
together. The dancer, marvellously seconded by her partner, had little
need of these incitements; now she twisted this way, and now that, as
if to escape the pursuit of her cavalier; again she seemed to challenge
him, lifting and lowering to right and to left the flounced skirt of
her calico dress, showing a white starched petticoat and a well-turned,
nervous leg. The spectators grew more and more excited. Striking a
tambourine, some one cast it down at the girl’s feet; and she danced
round it with redoubled animation and agility. But soon the exhausted
dancers had to sink upon a bench of the courtyard.’
One of the most typical of the Spanish folk-dances is the celebrated
_Fandango_, that surpasses in its wild passions and vulcanic vigor
everything of its kind. If you see it performed in the shadows of the
ruined Moorish castles and mosques to a measure in rapid triple time,
and hear the sharp clank of ebony or ivory castañets beating strange,
throbbing rhythms, you stand spellbound and electrified, a mute witness
of striking ethnographic magic. You seem to feel the pulse of the
semi-tropical, semi-African race. The flutter and glitter, passion and
quivering seductiveness, are a glimpse into the æsthetic depths of a
national soul. The dance seems to inflame the dancers as well as the
spectators. A Spanish poet speaks of the _Fandango_ as of an electric
shock that animates all hearts. ‘Men and women,’ he writes, ‘young
and old, acknowledge the power of the Fandango air over the ears and
soul of every Spaniard. The young men spring to their places, rattling
castañets, or imitating their sound by snapping their fingers. The
girls are remarkable for the willowy languor and lightness of their
movements, the voluptuousness of their attitudes--beating the exactest
time with tapping heels. Partners tease and entreat and pursue each
other by turns. Suddenly the music stops, and each dancer shows his
skill by remaining absolutely motionless, bounding again into the full
life of the _Fandango_ as the orchestra strikes up. The sound of the
guitar, the violin, the rapid tic-tac of the heels (_taconeos_), the
crack of fingers and castañets, the supple swaying of the dancers, fill
the spectators with ecstasy.’
An equally well known of the Spanish folk-dances is the _Jota_, which
is said to have originated in the province of Aragon, though the
inhabitants of Valencia and Andalusia claim that the _Jota_ is the
invention of their ancestors centuries before the Aragonians knew
of it. It is a more ceremonial and less passionate dance than the
_Fandango_, as it is performed on Christmas Eve and at other festivals
with the purpose of invoking the favor of the Virgin. The Kinneys write
of it: ‘It is a good, sound fruit of the soil, full of substance, and
inviting to the eye as good sound fruit may be. No academy’s hothouse
care has been needed to develop or protect it; the hand of the peasant
has cultivated without dirtying it. And that, when you look over the
history of dancing in some more progressive nations, is a pretty
significant thing. The people of Aragon are not novelty-hunters.
Perhaps that is why they have been satisfied while perfecting the dance
of their province not to pervert it from its proper motive--which is to
express in terms of poetry both the vigor and the innocence of rustic,
romping, boy-and-girl courtship.’
‘A trace of stiffness of limb and angularity of movement, proper to the
_Jota_, imbued it with a continuous hint of the rural grotesque. Yet,
as the angular spire of the Gothic cathedral need be no less graceful
than the rounded dome of the mosque, so the _Jota_ concedes nothing
in beauty to the more rolling movement of the dance of Andalusia. It
is broad and big of movement; the castañets most of the time are held
strongly out at arm’s length. One of its many surprises is the manner
of the pauses: the movement is so fast, the pauses are so electrically
abrupt, and the group in which the dancers hold themselves statue-like
through a couple of measures is so suddenly formed, that a layman’s
effort to understand the transition would be like trying to analyze the
movements of the particles in a kaleidoscope.’
The _Jotas_ of the other provinces, particularly of Andalusia and
Valencia, are less racial than _la Jota Aragonesa_, but nevertheless
they are true to the spirit of their localities. Thus the Andalusian
_Jota_ breathes mystery and romantic gloom, while that of Valencia is
fluid and graceful in every movement. The great violinist Sarasate was
so fond of the _Jota_ that he made special trips after his concert
season in the capitals of the world to his home town in Spain, and
immensely enjoyed dancing with his old friends and the townspeople or
playing the violin to them free of charge.
An extremely graceful and dignified Spanish folk-dance is the _Bolero_.
This dance more than any other resembles the general architectonic and
decorative style of the Spanish middle class. It has round and fluid
lines, rich, soft forms, and graceful poses. In many respects it rather
suggests a mediæval ballroom than a simple folk-dance. Some authors
say that it is an invention of Sebastian Cerezo, a celebrated dancer
of the eighteenth century, but the Spaniards themselves maintain that
it dates back to the Arab rule or before. Blasis writes of it: ‘The
_Bolero_ consists of five parts: the _paseo_, or promenade, which is
introductory; the _differencia_, in which the step is changed; the
_traversia_, in which places are changed; then the so-called _finale_;
followed in conclusion by the _bien parado_, distinguished by graceful
attitudes, and a combined pose of both the dancers. The _Bolero_ is
generally in duple time, though some _Boleros_ are written in triple
time. Its music is varied and abounds in cadences. The tune or air may
change, but the peculiar rhythm must be preserved, as well as the time
and the preludes, otherwise known as feigned pauses--_feintes pauses_.
The _Bolero_ step is low and gliding, _battu_ or _coupé_, but always
well marked.’
A folk-dance of great antiquity, according to Fuentes, is the
_Seguidilla_, which has certain affinities with the _Bolero_. It is a
spirited, gay and modest country dance of the Andalusian peasants. The
_Seguidillas_ of some provinces have a rapid rhythm and are accompanied
by humorous recitative songs. It is said that in La Mancha, whose
inhabitants are famous for their passionate love of dancing, verses to
_Seguidillas_ are improvised by popular poets to suit every occasion.
The _Seguidillas_ are dances that you see performed on any occasion at
country inns and at social festivals. Though requiring less physical
strength and dynamic technique than many others, nevertheless the
_Seguidilla_ is difficult to untrained aspirants. But like most of the
Spanish folk-dances it betrays caprice, coquettishness and romantic
tendencies of some sort. The theme of the _Seguidilla_ poems is always
love. Davillier says that the _Seguidilla_ that he saw at Albacetex
‘began in a minor key with some rapid _arpeggios_; and each dancer
chose his partner, the various couples facing each other some three or
four paces apart. Presently, two or three emphatic chords indicated to
the singers that their turn had come, and they sang the first verse of
the _copla_ (the song that accompanies a dance); meanwhile the dancers,
toes pointed and arms rounded, waited for their signal. The singers
paused, and the guitarist began the air of an old _Seguidilla_. At
the fourth bar the castañets struck in, the singers continued their
_copla_, and all the dancers began enthusiastically turning, returning,
following and fleeing from each other. At the ninth bar, which
indicates the finish of the first part, there was a slight pause; the
dancers stood motionless and the guitar twanged on. Then, with a change
of step, the second part began, each dancer taking his original place
again. It was then we were able to judge of the most interesting and
graceful part of the dance--the _bien parado_--literally: well stopped.
The _bien parado_ in the _Seguidillas_ is the abrupt breaking off of
one figure to make way for a new one. It is a very important point that
the dancers should stand motionless, and, as it were, petrified, in the
position in which they are surprised by the final notes of the air.
Those who managed to do this gracefully were applauded with repeated
cries of _bien parado_!
‘Such are the classic lines upon which the dance is regulated, but
how shall we describe its effect upon the dancers? The ardent melody,
at once voluptuous and melancholy, the rapid clank of castañets, the
melting enthusiasm of the dancers, the suppliant looks and gestures of
their partners, the languorous grace and elegance of the impassioned
movements--all give to the picture an irresistible attraction only to
be appreciated to the full by Spaniards. They alone have the qualities
necessary for the performance of their national dance; they alone have
the special fire that inspires its movements with passion and with
life.’
Noteworthy among the other Spanish folk-dances is _El Jaleo_, a wild
and animated dance, consisting of acrobatic leaping and bounding,
pirouet wheeling and fury-like fleeing and rushing. It needs a strong
and experienced gypsy girl or a seasoned country dancer to give it
its peculiar electrifying quality. _El Garrotin_ is described as a
pantomimic dance, in which the gesture of the hands and arms plays a
leading rôle. The Kinneys write that _La Farruca_ is an interesting
folk-dance. ‘After one becomes accustomed to it sufficiently to be able
to dominate one’s own delight and astonishment, one may look at it as a
study of contrasts. Now the performers advance with undulation so slow,
so subtle that the Saracenic coquetry of liquid arms and feline body
is less seen than felt. Mystery of movement envelops their bodies like
twilight. Of this perhaps eight measures, when--crash! Prestissimo!
Like gatling-fire the volley of heel-tapping. The movements have become
the eye-baffling darting of swallows. No preparation for the change, no
crescendo nor accelerando; in the matter of abruptness one is reminded
of some of the effects familiar in the playing of Hungarian orchestras.’
The _Cachucha_, _Tascara_ and _Zorongo_ are Spanish folk-dances of more
or less local color. While the _Zorongo_ is a rapid dance, performed
in backwards and forwards movements, the dancer beating time with his
hands, the _Cachucha_ is danced by a single dancer of either sex, in
triple time. Its steps are gay, graceful and impassionate, head and
bust playing a conspicuous rôle. The _Tascara_ dance is more fantastic
and symbolic than hardly any other of Spain. The movements are slow
and languorous. It requires more backward curving and strange posing
than agility and grace. In olden times Tascara was imagined as a dragon
with an enormous mouth and fantastic wings. The slow movements of the
dance grow gradually in speed and near the end the castañets strike,
for without them a Spanish dancer seems to feel uneasy.
The choreographic designs of all the Spanish folk-dances are rich
in graceful curves, with abrupt sharp corners here and there, like
the national architecture. They speak of a sweet glow of emotion and
make a direct appeal to the passions. In dances of certain provinces
and certain ages we discern the influence of Egypt, particularly of
the Arabs. They give evidence of an ancient training which has grown
into the blood and bones of the nation. They betray more the forms of
Moorish arabesques than the clear-cut images of the Roman, Greek, or
Gothic style. You can feel in their vigorous rhythm and colorful tunes
simple, unspoiled souls, filled with energy and hope. To this the
picturesque and romantic dresses of their women add that atmosphere and
background which the individual stage dance seeks in proper scenery
and costumes. In this the Spaniards are born masters. Take, for
instance, the black velvet bodice, golden-yellow satin skirt, net-work
dotted with little black balls, draped over the hips of an Andalusian
belle, and you have a combination of colors and designs that so aptly
fit a _Fandango_ or _Bolero_ that it seems as if a genius had been
at work in this harmonious combination. Not less effective are the
silver-spangled costume of an Aragonian dancing girl, and the costume
of Spanish male dancers, which is suggestive of humor, brilliancy and
simple strength. The laced black breeches lashed at the knee, the black
velvety waist-coat, broad blue sash, and the red handkerchief tied
around the head, and you have the most harmonious counterpart to the
picturesque woman dancer. The music, steps, gestures, poses, dress and
choreographic figures of the dance melt into a grandiose masterpiece
of some gigantic yet unknown genius. The colors, the wide skirt, the
light sandals, the comfortable costumes and the animated gestures fit
so perfectly together and produce in the symbolic lines of the movement
a language that speaks so clearly of the æsthetic peculiarities of
the nation that we are convinced we have here the best lesson in the
fundamental principles of a new art dance.
II
How true a mirror the folk-dances and the folk-songs have been and
are in showing the racial differences in regard to beauty, is best
to be seen if we take the reader from semi-tropical Spain into
cold, conventional England, where æsthetic views have developed so
differently. In this field we owe much to Cecil Sharp, whose careful
works on English folk-dances are of exceptional service to the student
of choreography.
The most typical of English folk-dances are the Morris Dances, the
Country Dances, and the Sword Dances. All three lack the fire and
boisterous passions of the Spanish _Jotas_, _Boleros_ and _Fandangos_.
They betray the traits of a more phlegmatic and more critical, perhaps
more intellectual, but less emotional race. Take, for instance,
the Morris Dance, and you find it to be a manifestation of vigor
rather than of grace. The same you will find true of all the other
English folk-dances. They are, in spirit, the organized, traditional
expressions of virility and sound health--they smack of cudgel-play, of
wrestling and of honest fisticuffs. There is nothing dreamy, nothing
romantic, nothing coquettish about them. Speaking particularly of the
Morris Dance, Mr. Sharp writes:
‘It is a formula based upon and arising out of the life of man, as
it is lived by men who hold much speculation upon the mystery of our
whence and whither to be unprofitable; by men of meagre fancy, but of
great kindness to the weak; by men who fight their quarrels on the spot
with naked hands, drink together when the fight is done, and forget
it, or, if they remember, then the memory is a friendly one. It is the
dance of folk who are slow to anger, but of great obstinacy--forthright
of act and speech; to watch it in its thumping sturdiness is to hold
such things as poniards and stilettos, the swordsman with the domino,
the man who stabs in the back--as unimaginable things. The Morris
Dance is a perfect expression in rhythm and movement of the English
character.’
The Morris dancers wear bells strapped to their shins, and properly
to ring them requires considerable kicking and stamping. This ringing
is done to emphasize the _fortissimo_ part of the music. The foot,
when lifted, is never drawn back, but always thrust forward. The toe
is never pointed in line with the leg, but held at a right angle to
it, as in the standing position. The stepping foot is lifted as in
walking, as if to step forward, then the leg is vigorously straightened
to a kick, so as to make the bells ring. At the same instant that
the forward leg is straightened, a hop is made on the rear foot; the
dancer alights upon the toe, but lets the heel follow immediately and
firmly, so that he stands upon the flat foot. The dancer jumps as high
as his own foot, holding his legs and body straight while he is in
the air, alighting upon the toes (but only so as to break the shock
sufficiently), then letting the heels come firmly down. In alighting
from the jump, the knees are bent just enough to save the dancer from
injurious shock, and are straightened immediately. The Morris Dance
is danced by men, usually six. Occasionally, but rarely, women have
figured as performers. The music in early times was furnished by the
bagpipe, whistle and tabor; but for a century or so a fiddle did the
service. The dress of the dancers was a tall hat with a band of red,
green and white ribbons, an elaborately frilled and pleated white
shirt, fawn-shaded breeches with braces of white webbing, blue tie
with the ends long and loose, substantial boots, and rough, gray wool
stockings. All dancers carry a white handkerchief, the middle finger
thrust through a hole in one corner.
Of somewhat different type is the Country Dance, which is performed
by men and women together. Though less of a festival nature than
the Morris, the Country Dance has been practised as the ordinary,
every-day dance of the people. It is performed in couples and contains
gestures that suggest flirtation. For this no special dress is needed.
The figures and steps are simple and more graceful than those of the
Morris Dance. Its step is of a springy walking nature, two to each bar,
executed by women with a natural unaffected grace, and on the part of
men with a complacent bearing and a certain jauntiness of manner. Like
the Morris, the Country Dance never requires pointed toes, arched legs
or affected swayings. The galop, waltz and polka steps are occasionally
used. The movements are performed smoothly and quietly, the feet
more sliding than walking. The figures are numerous and involve many
repetitions.
Of a very spectacular character are the Sword Dances, which bear a
stamp of high antiquity. During the mythologic era they may have been
practised as war dances, as we find similar ones practised by all
primitive tribes. The history of all nations speaks of sword dances of
some kind. There is to be seen in the Berlin Museum a picture from the
seventeenth century that shows two double rings of dancers in white
shirts, holding up on a frame of interlaced swords two swordsmen clad
entirely in colors. There are also, separately, seven sword-dancers,
six in white shirts, the first only clothed in red, like one of the
swordsmen. They dance in file toward the left, each sloping his own
sword back over his left shoulder and grasping the sword-point of the
men next in front of him. The last man only shoulders his sword.
In England there seem to have been six principal sword dances, three
long and three short. The long-sword dance of Yorkshire requires six
men dancers, the Captain, and the Fool. These are accompanied by a
musician who plays either a fiddle, bagpipe or accordion. The dancers
wear red tunics, cut soldier fashion and trimmed with white braid down
the front and around the collar and sleeves; white trousers with a red
stripe an inch or more wide down the side of each leg; brown canvas
shoes, and tightly fitting cricket caps, quartered in red and white.
Each dancer carries a sword; the leader, an ordinary military weapon,
and the others swords forged by a village blacksmith. The Captain wears
a blue coat of flowered cloth, ordinary trousers and a peaked cap of
white flannel. He used to carry a drum, slung round his waist, upon
which he accompanied the dance tunes. The Fool used to wear a cocked
hat, decorated with peacock feathers. He wore a dinner-bell and a fox’s
tail attached to the back buckle of his trousers, and he used to run
among the spectators making humorous exclamations. The steps, a kind
of leisurely tramp, or jog-trot, fall on the first and middle beats of
each bar of the music, and the tramp of the feet should synchronize
with the rhythm of the tune. The dancers move slowly round in a ring,
clockwise, stepping in time with the music and clashing their swords
together on the first and middle beats of each bar of the first strain
of the music. The swords are held points up, hilts level with the chin,
the blades nearly vertical, forming a cone immediately above the centre
of the circle. Each dancer places his sword over his left shoulder
and grasps the sword-point belonging to the dancer in front of him. He
then faces the centre of the ring, passes his sword over his head and
lets his arms fall naturally to his sides. The dance consists of eight
different figures. In the last figure the dancers draw close together,
linked by their swords, each crossing his right hand well over his
head. Each man then drops the tip of his neighbor’s sword and, using
both his hands, presses the hilt of his own sword under the point of
the sword adjacent to it. In this way the swords are tightly meshed
together in the form of a double triangle, or six-pointed star. The
process of fastening the swords together is carried out as quickly and
smartly as possible.
The writer saw a series of English folk-dances given at the MacDowell
Festival at Peterboro, N. H., in 1914, among them the sword-dance
described. The performance was exceedingly effective, though the
instructor had only inexperienced young amateurs at his disposal. The
character of the English folk-dances made rather the impression of a
wholesome sport than of a social ceremonial. It seemed as if they were
void of all emotional suggestions and their language was clever and
realistic rather than fanciful and imaginative.
Though of the same order as the previously described Morris, Country
and Sword Dances, yet of a more fantastic appearance is the Horn
Dance, which the English have borrowed from the Finns, and greatly
changed after their own taste. The English Horn Dance requires ten
performers, six dancers, a fool, Maid Marian, a hobby-horse, and a boy
carrying a bow and arrow. These are accompanied by a musician, who
plays an accordion, and a boy with a triangle. Each dancer carries a
pair of reindeer horns. The antlers borne by the first three dancers
are painted a white or cream color, the remaining three a dark blue.
The horns are set in a wooden counterfeit skull, from which depends
a short wooden pole or handle about eighteen inches long. Each dancer
bears the head in front of him, and supports it by grasping the handle
with his right hand and balancing the horn with his left. The fool has
a stick with a bladder attached to it; Maid Marian is impersonated by
a man dressed in woman’s clothes and carries a wooden ladle which is
used to collect money. The boy holds a bow and arrow which he clicks
together in time with the music. The step is similar to the country
dance step, an easy, rhythmical, graceful and springy walking movement.
III
The Scotch folk-dances, which surpass the English by their more
rigorous movement and spirited steps, picture graphically the simple,
industrious traits of a thrifty race. The most characteristic of the
Scotch folk-dances are the _Highland Fling_, the _Scotch Reel_, and the
_Shean Treuse_. All the Scotch dances are more or less variants of the
previously described English ones. They have the same strong, sporty
rhythm and jaunty bearing as the others. Their choreographic figures
are so closely related to the English, and the English to theirs, that
it were superfluous to give a detailed description of them on this
occasion. Perhaps the _Scotch Reel_ shows most typical traits of the
Scottish race. This dance requires four ladies and four gentlemen, who
all join hands, forming a circle. Then the gentlemen and ladies cross
their hands and move eight steps forward and eight steps back in the
style of a promenade. The gentleman balances his partner, swinging his
right and left arms alternately and proceeds through the chain, the
ladies separating left, the gentlemen right, until all arrive at their
previous positions. The first lady goes into the centre of the ring
while others hop around her until they reach their original position,
after which the lady in the centre balances to her partner and back to
the opposite gentleman in a half-swing, forming occasionally a chain
of three. Thus it goes on until all the four ladies have done, after
which the gentlemen follow the same figures and steps. All their steps
are of a sharp, skipping nature and the lines of their poses remind
one of the designs on their checked decorations and on the patterns of
their bright and plain dresses. Noteworthy among the Scotch folk-dances
is the _Hornpipe_, which has been a favored dance of the sailors and
peasants. Its lively, rapid measure, so far as the feet are concerned,
the folded arms, the firm and stiff body are typical characteristics
of a Scotchman’s manners. The dance owes its name to the fact that it
is performed to the music of a pipe with a horn rim at the open end.
There are an infinite variety of _Hornpipes_ and of music to which they
can be danced, either in common or triple time, the final note having a
special stress laid on it.
Of somewhat different character than the English and Scotch folk-dances
are those of Ireland. The Irish _Jig_ enjoys a popularity throughout
the world. Already the name suggests a light, frolicking and airy
movement. Since the days of Charles II and Queen Anne, this dance has
been associated with humorous verses. The _Jigs_ were already in vogue
at the time of Shakespeare, who speaks of them as leading pieces in
the theatrical repertoires. A dancing or singing _Jig_ was the real
climax of a piece, often being given as an entertainment during the
intermissions. Audiences were accustomed to call for a _Jig_ as a happy
ending to a show. The Irish people, possessing a natural love for music
and dancing, have put their soul into the _Jig_. It mirrors best the
semi-sentimental, the semi-adventurous racial traits of an Irishman.
There are single and double _Jigs_; the distinction rests on the
number of beats in the bar and they have often enough been danced to
the strains of the bagpipe. As a rule, the foot should strike six times
to a bar, and it needs a certain amount of enthusiasm to get into
the spirit of the thing, the music thereof being most exhilarating.
It adds to the charm if the dancers appear as Paddy in a brown coat,
green breeches, and the soft hat with the pipe in it, and his partner
in emerald green stockings and skirt, with a red kerchief about her
head. The music of a _Jig_ is usually an old Irish ditty, and anything
more spirited or more in tune to the step could not be found. The first
sixteen bars of the dance are occupied with the pitch in which the
leg is thrown out. Sixteen bars are given to the toe and heel step.
Thirty-two bars are occupied with the diagonal cock-step, supposed
to represent the strutting of a cock. Sixteen bars are danced to a
rocking-step, in which the legs are crossed. Eight bars are given to
pointing; sixteen to stamping firmly with both feet, then the dancers
advance and pivot. Finally, sixteen bars are given to a round and round
movement. It requires a great deal of hand movement and body vivacity.
It has been said by certain Irishmen that a _Jig_ is in its apparent
fun and fury a short symbolic drama of Irish life. The first figures
mean love making, wooing, wedding and marriage. Then come the troubles
of married life, the repentance and sinking into the grave.
To old Irish, Scotch and English folk-dances belong the ‘All in a
Garden Green,’ ‘Buckingham House,’ ‘Dargason,’ ‘Heartsease,’ and
‘Oranges and Lemons.’ They are all graceful and dignified, but depict
more the English middle class or nobility than the people. Thus in
the ‘All in a Garden Green’ the man begins by shaking the hand of his
lady partner and kissing her twice, which was rather the custom of
the fashionable ballroom than of a puritan people. They all give the
impression of a refinement of manners that belongs more to the early
French social dances than to the folk-dances of a heavy and realistic
race. We know how the English high society and court imitated the
French in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, so it is only
natural that it accepted with certain modifications the French social
dances.
IV
It seems like a paradox that a country which gave to the world the
classic ballet in the modern sense, Noverre, Blasis and Vestris, never
produced any folk-dances of such racial flavor as we find in many
other nations. The old French Rustic Dances, ‘Rounds,’ _Bourrées_, the
Breton Dances, and the _Farandole_, betray only in certain figures the
characteristics of the French race; otherwise they make the impression
of a pleasing and polished bourgeois art. The _Ronde_, considered as
the first form of French folk-dances, being performed in circles by
taking each other by the hand, is to be found among races like the
Finns, Esthonians, Letts and Lithuanians, as we read from the old
epics of these nations. Thus we read in the _Kalewipoeg_ that ring
dances--_ringi tants_--of eleventh-century Esthonians were practically
of the same order as the French _Rondes_. The Greeks had ‘Rounds,’ so
had other ancient civilized races.
An old French dance is the _Bourrée_ of Auvergne. It is said to be a
shepherd dance originally; but Catherine de Medici introduced it at
court and polished out all the heavy, simple and characteristic traits
of the people. From that time it has figured as a semi-fashionable
dance danced in the society. Bach, Gluck, Handel, and many others since
have either composed _Bourrées_ or treated _Bourrée_ themes in their
orchestral compositions. Originally the _Bourrée_ was a simple mimic
dance of the peasants. The woman moved round the man as if to tease
him. He advanced and returned, glanced at her and ignored her. In the
meanwhile she continued her flirting. Then the man snapped his finger,
stamped his foot and gave an expression of his masculinity. That
induced her to yield, and the dance stopped--only to begin anew.
Like the _Bourrée_, the _Farandole_, which originated in Southern
France, was concocted into a dance of the _Beaux Monde_ and deprived of
its racial language. The _Farandole_ that one sees danced in Provence
is only a pretty social dance and has little of the old flavor. The
dancers performing it stand in a long line, holding the ends of each
other’s handkerchiefs and winding rapidly under each other’s arms
or gyrating around a single couple in a long spiral. The modern
‘Cotillions’ and ‘Quadrilles’ are based on the old French _Farandole_.
It is likely that the idolized French ballet killed the interest of
the people in their simple and idyllic folk-dances. The peasant going
to the town felt the contempt that a patrician had for the country art
and naturally grew to dislike his traditional old-fashioned village
dance. The music that he heard in the city cafés cast its spell upon
him, as did the city dances. Urban ideals have been of great influence
upon the French country people, upon their traditional folk-dances and
folk-songs, and this has deprived the race of valuable ethnographic
reserve capital, in which many other nations excel. The French, like
the English, have been strong in cosmic tendencies but weak in ethnic.
While science grows out of the cosmic principles, art’s vigor lies
in those of ethnographic nature. An average Frenchman is a great
connoisseur of dancing and indulges in it with a particular pleasure.
But his love of the refined and most accomplished impressions puts him
naturally outside a simple and coarse peasant art.
The Italian is less pretentious in his taste than the former. But an
average Italian, regardless of whether he be a peasant from the most
secluded corner of the country or a citizen of Naples, lives and dies
in music, particularly in song. The predilection that a Frenchman shows
for the ballet transforms itself in the case of an Italian into a love
for the opera. Italy has produced great composers, great musicians and
singers, but only a few great dancers. An Italian dancer is either
acrobatic or blunt. She seems to lack the more subtle qualities of
plastic expression, the ability to speak in gestures and mimic forms.
This is best illustrated in the celebrated folk-dance, the _Tarantella_.
The _Tarantella_ owes its name to a great poisonous spider, whose bite
was supposed to be cured only by dancing to the point of exhaustion.
The Italians perform it to the music of a tambourine, which in the
hands of an expert gives an amazing variety of tones. Like the skirt,
apron and the head-dress of the dancing girl, the tambourine is
adorned with glaring red, white and green colored ribbons. The white
under-bodice of the Italian peasant dress is capable of any amount
of embroidery, the hair intertwisted and interplaited with ribbons,
the aprons interwoven with colors, and, instead of the usual square
head-dress, with its hard oblong board resting on the head, a scarf
is gracefully folded over the foundation and caught back with bright
ribbons; this is the special Tarantella dress of a girl. The Italian
costumes, both ancient and modern, are full of grace and beauty and
give the appropriate atmosphere to a dance.
The _Tarantella_, being a tragic dance, demands considerable
temperament, fire and dramatic gift. It begins with the dancers
saluting each other, and dancing a while timidly. Then they withdraw,
return, stretch out their arms and whirl vehemently in a giddy circle.
It has many surprising and acrobatic turns. Towards the middle the
partners turn their backs on each other in order to take up new
figures. It ends with a tragic, whirling collapse of the girl and
the man looking sadly on. It is typical of hysteric fury, revenge,
superstition, hatred, fanaticism, passion and agony. It speaks of a
quick and sanguine temperament. An Englishman, Scandinavian or Dutchman
could never dance a _Tarantella_. It is the dance of a temperamental
race.
Like the ancient Romans, the Italians are fond of pantomimes and
spectacular effects, with little discrimination for poetry and poise.
We can see the same traits in the Italian ballet, which has an
outspoken tendency to the acrobatic. All the Italian ballet teachers in
Russia are kept there only for their acrobatic specialties. You find
in Italy everywhere singing parties, but comparatively little dancing.
Some provinces may be more inclined to dancing than those around Naples
and Rome. We have heard of a pretty dance, called _Trescona_, that the
people dance in Florence, but we have never seen it performed. Other
Italian folk-dances are the _La Siciliana_, _Saltarello_, _Ruggera_
and _Forlana_. Some of them are more graceful and less dramatic than
the _Tarantella_, but they have comparatively little racial vigor,
little original appeal. They are either pantomimic or imbued with
gymnastic tricks, and with a strong tendency towards the extravagant or
the grotesque. However, the _Tarantella_ is and remains the crown of
Italian folk-dances. How much it has impressed the Italian and foreign
composers is evident in the numerous compositions that they have
devoted to this theme. Rubinstein’s ‘Tarantella’ is one of the best.
V
We find a remarkable contrast to the Italian style and spirit in
the folk-dances of the Hungarians, whose popular themes have been
successfully employed by Liszt and Brahms in their instrumental and
orchestral compositions. A nation of Mongolian descent, of impassionate
and virile temperament, living its own life, isolated from the æsthetic
influence of their European neighbors, little conventional, optimistic,
fantastic and lovers of adventure, the Hungarians are born dancers.
True to the quick and fiery temperament of the race, the Hungarian
dances are vivid sketches, full of action and color. Music and dancing
have been for centuries past the foremost recreations of the race.
Their ancient legends speak of worship that consisted only of music and
dancing. Unlike other nations, their dance music is exceedingly pretty,
melodious and full of imaginary beauty. The Hungarian folk-dance is
expressive, rich in pictorial episodes, symbolic and elevating.
The Hungarian costume for a _Czardas_ is singularly effective, the
petticoat of cloth of gold, the red velvet bodice opening over a
stomacher of gold and precious stones, crimson and green blending in
the sash which surrounds the waist. It is said that the name _Czardas_
is derived from an inn where it was danced by the peasants in past
centuries. In every _Czardas_ the music governs the dance, which is
romantic, full of lyric beauty and very changeable. It is mostly
written in 2/4 time, in the major mode. The dance consists of a slow
and quick movement, the music beginning with _andante maesteso_,
changing gradually to _allegro vivace_. It is of ancient origin and
was probably used as a worship dance. It is danced to different tunes
of one and the same character, as far as the figures are concerned.
Six, eight, ten, or more couples place themselves in a circle, the
dancer passing his arm round the waist of his partner. As long as the
_andante_ movement is given, he turns his partner to the right and
left, clapping his spurred heels together and striking the ground with
his toe and heel, and then they continue the step as a round dance. In
some provinces the women put their hands on their partners’ shoulders
and jump high from the ground with their assistance. So fond is the
Hungarian of his _Czardas_ that, as soon as he hears the stirring tunes
of the dance played by a gypsy band or fiddler, it seems to electrify
him so that he can hardly listen to it without dancing. As the music
continues, the dance gets wilder and wilder until it ends abruptly.
The steps of the Hungarian folk-dances are as varied as the music. Now
they are gliding and sharp, then again graceful and curved. Some of the
dances are quiet and of seductive nature, others of involved steps and
tricky tempo.
The _Szolo_ is said to be a semi-acrobatic dance, in which the woman
is swung through the air in a horizontal position from which she
descends as if she were coming down from a flight. The _Verbunkes_ is a
dance of military character, performed mostly by men (ten or twelve),
each dancer being provided with a bottle of wine which he swings
as he dances, singing in between a patriotic song as an additional
accompaniment to the occasional gypsy band. Unlike the English
folk-dances, the Hungarian are mostly built upon some romantic theme,
either legendary or symbolic. Being a nation with rural traditions and
rural ideas, Hungary has no sport spirit in any of her folk-dances.
There is a strong feeling for Bohemianism and nomadic abandon in their
mute language. Mostly the Hungarian dances are gay, sparkling with life
and fantasy. They suggest Oriental designs mixed with Occidentalism, a
world of queer dreams and sentimentalism.
Folk-dances related to those of Hungary, that deserve to be known, are
the Esthonian _Kuljak_, _Kaara Jaan_, and _Risti Tants_. Descendants
from the same stock as the Hungarians and the Finns, the Esthonians
settled down in the Russian Baltic Provinces about the seventh or
eighth centuries and since that time have formed their independent
racial art and traditions, which they have cultivated and preserved
till to-day. The great Esthonian epic _Kalewipoeg_, known so little
to the outside world, remains, like Homer’s _Iliad_, and the Indian
_Mahabarata_, a valuable treasury of ethnographic art, and it is from
this book that we have gained an authentic knowledge of the character
of the Esthonian folk-dances, though the writer has seen some of them
performed in the country.
The _Kuljak_, like many other Esthonian folk-dances, is performed
to the accompaniment of a harp--_kannel_--and the singing voices of
the dancers themselves. It is danced by men and women alike, in a
similar formation as the Irish _Jig_. But the _Kuljak_ tempo is very
similar to that of the _Czardas_, with the exception of the latter’s
tune and the formation of the figures. Like the national costumes of
the Esthonians, their folk-art is more sombre and poetic than the
Hungarian, but less romantic and less fiery. The _Kuljak_ steps are
sharp, angular and timid, without that boisterous and jaunty expression
which is so conspicuously evident in the dances of the southern
nations. The peculiarity of the _Kuljak_ is that it is performed around
a bonfire or kettle filled with burning substance. Sometimes the
dancers circle round the fire holding each other’s hands, sometimes
they go in gliding promenade step, sometimes they dance singly, as
if challenging or fearing the cracking and high-leaping flame. There
is no doubt that this is a rare survival of the ancient sacrificial
temple dance. The legendary and mythologic element is the unique
peculiarity of the Esthonian folk-dances. The _Risti-Tants_--‘Cross
Dance’--which is performed by men and women, first, in crossing the
hands, then in making the cross designs with the steps, is of great
antiquity and many of its cabalistic figures are incomprehensible to
the modern mind. Like the designs of the Esthonian national dress, the
figures of their primitive and simple folk-dances have a tendency of
never-ending lines. The colors, white, black and red--the symbols of
red blood, white light and black earth--suggest dreamy, melancholy, but
determined traits of a semi-Oriental race. Dance here is not a sport,
not an amusement, not a medium of love-making, not a social function,
but a magic motion to influence the great powers of Nature, and a
semi-mythologic ceremony for the purpose of future joy and happiness.
On this occasion the æsthetic element is interwoven with the ethical,
the art is at the same time religion.
VI
The German mind has not been strikingly original or racial in
folk-dances. It has taken more an abstract and purely musical direction
and paid little attention to the dance. If we leave out the dances
of the Bavarians, Saxons and Tyroleans, there is little that is of
any ethnographic interest in this respect. The Prussian _Fackeltanz_
belongs more to the elaborate pantomimes of the order of ancient Rome,
rather than to regular dances. The mediæval Germany that was ruled
politically and ecclesiastically from Rome never felt the influence
of the rural country people, but, on the contrary, was mostly under
the æsthetic and intellectual influence of the feudal barons and urban
middle class. Under the influence of these two classes, German music,
poetry, drama and literature came into existence. The German classic
art is predominantly aristocratic and ecclesiastic. The early German
artists were constrained to gather in the aristocratic salons of
the rich patricians. The peasant was rarely a model of early German
artists, but a German _Freiherr_, _Bürger_ or _Handwerker_ has been the
subject of many German dramas, operas and musical compositions, and of
much painting, sculpture and dancing. Wilhelm Angerstein tells us in
his interesting book _Volkstänze in deutschen Mittelalter_ that already
in 1300 there existed German guild dances--_Zunfttänze_--such as the
_Messertanz_ (‘knife dance’) in Nürnberg, _Schafftertanz_ (‘cooper’s
dance’) in Munich, etc. Besides these there were the aristocratic
_Schreittänze_ and _Schleiftänze_. The _Drehtanz_, out of which
originated the later _Walzer_, was an aristocratic and patrician, but
never a truly rural folk-dance.
There is no question that the German people has always been interested
in dancing, a fact which is best illustrated in the frequent outbursts
of mediæval _Tanzwuth_--‘dance craze’--that affected the population of
various cities. These phenomena became occasionally so threatening to
the public morality that in 1024 the Bishop Burchard von Worms issued
a special decree putting dancing under the ban of the church. In 1237
over two thousand children left Erfurt, dancing. In 1418 an epidemic
rage for dancing manifested itself in Strassburg. The well-known
_Veitstanz_--St. Vitus’ dance--originated in mediæval Germany and
spread itself all over the world. The _Schuhplatteltanz_ of Bavaria
is a real folk-dance and contains in its gay and grotesque figures
characteristic spiritual traits of the Tyrolean peasants. Most of
the tunes of the _Schuhplatteltänze_ are gay, joyful and bubbling
with mountainous brilliancy, as is the dance. Though played in the
waltz-rhythm, the dance is by no means a waltz, but a pretty, quaint
little ballet of the people. There are some six to eight different
figures in the dance as one can best see it performed in some villages
near Innsbruck. It is danced by a man and girl, and begins with a
graceful, slow promenade of the couple. Then she starts to flirt with
him by spinning coquettishly round and round until he is enchanted
and puts his hand gracefully round her waist. Now they dance together
awhile, seemingly in love. But suddenly she seems to have changed her
mind and tries to turn him down. The dance is full of buoyant joy and
clever mimic expressions. It gives the impression of a healthy mountain
race, optimistic, simple and humorous. Though occasionally rough, there
are passages of sweet and sentimental grace which convey the impression
of an old-fashioned Minuet.
The _Schmoller_ is a characteristic dance of the Saxonian peasants,
in which the man never reaches his hand to the lady, though they
perform the four or five movements in the rhythm of the _Mazurka_ with
considerable turning and stamping the heels. A quaint old dance is
the _Siebensprung_ of Schwaben which is danced to the accompaniment
of a song with humorous verses. The _Taubentanz_ of the Black Forest
region is a very graceful and simple dance with distinct mazurka
steps, in which the gentleman reaches only his right hand to the lady.
The _Zwölfmonatstanz_ of Wurtemberg is a semi-social dance, which is
performed by twelve couples. The _Fackeltanz_ has been for centuries a
ceremonial display of Prussian nobility and the court. The following
is a short account, from the _Figaro_, of a Torch Dance as it was
performed at the marriage of the sister of Kaiser Wilhelm II:
‘Twelve youthful pages, pretty and dainty as the pages of opera,
slowly entered by a side door under the direction of the chamberlains.
They carried torch-holders in wrought silver, containing thick white
wax-candles, which they handed to the twelve ministers. The marshal
raised his _bâton_, the orchestra from the gallery opposite the emperor
slowly began a tuneful _Polonaise_. The bride and bridegroom placed
themselves after the ministers, who made the tour of the room, the
chamberlain completed the _cortège_, which stopped before the emperor.
The bride made a slight curtsey, the emperor rose and offered his
arm, the _cortège_ again passed in procession around the room. On
returning, the bride invited the empress and made the tour with her.
Then the twelve pages approached and took the torches again. The dance
continued. The ceremony might have been monotonous but for the infinite
variety and richness of the costumes and uniforms, and the liveliness
of the music. The twelve pages were quite delicious and marched with
all the enthusiasm of youth.’
The German _Rheinländer_ and the _Walzer_ are both dances of the middle
class and the city. Whether they ever were danced as folk-dances by
the German peasants, we do not know. They probably originated in the
mediæval guild circles and spread gradually over the country. The
Waltz, as we know it to-day, originated in the eighteenth century in
Germany, though the French claim that it is a development of _Volte_,
which originally was an old folk-dance of Provence. The _Volte_ was in
vogue in France in the sixteenth century. Castil-Blaze writes that ‘the
waltz which we again took from the Germans in 1795 had been a French
dance for four hundred years.’ The German waltz originated from the
widespread folk-song, ‘_Ach du lieber Augustin!_’ which dates back to
the middle of the eighteenth century. Gardel introduced it first in his
ballet _La Dansomanie_ in 1793 in Paris. But the real vogue for the
waltz began after the Czar Alexander the First danced it at his court
ball in 1816. Until the masses began to imitate the nobility it was a
‘high society’ dance and such it remained fully half a century, if not
longer.
The waltz is written in 3/4 rhythm and in eight-bar phrases. It has a
gliding step in which the movements of the knees play a conspicuous
rôle. Each country developed its particular style of waltz. The Germans
and French treated it as a dainty and graceful courtship play. In
Scandinavia it grew more heavy and theatrical. In the English waltz
the dancers walked up and down the room, occasionally breaking into
the step and then pushing the partner backward along the room. The
German rule was that the dancers should be able to waltz equally well
in all directions, pivoting and crossing the feet when necessary in the
reverse turn but the feet should never leave the floor. Waldteufel and
Johann Strauss may be considered as the master-composers of the waltz
as a social dance.
VII
As elaborate as the Finnish folk music is in racial color and line,
the Finns have few interesting and original folk-dances. Dr. Ilmari
Krohn has hundreds of Finnish folk-dance tunes, but they reveal
musical rather than choreographic vigor. A large number of graceful
Finnish folk-dances are imitations of the Swedish or Norwegian style.
In their own dances the figures and steps are heavy, languorous and
compact as the rocky semi-arctic nature. Like the Finnish sculpture,
the Finnish folk-dance has a tendency to the mysterious, grotesque and
unusual line. Some of their folk-dances are as daring and unusual as
the Finnish architectural forms. You find in the Finnish architecture
that straight lines are broken up in the most extraordinary manner,
projecting gables, turrets and windows are used to avoid the monotony
of gray, expansive and flat walls. It falls into no category of known
styles. Like fantastically grown rocks, it compels your attention.
There is something disproportionate yet fascinating in the Finnish
style and folk-dance.
The most racial of the Finnish folk-dances are not the pleasing village
_Melkatusta_ and other types of this kind, but the ‘Devil’s Dance,’
_Paimensoitaja_ (‘Shepherd Tune’), _Hempua_, _Hailii_ and _Kaakuria_.
Like the Finnish _Rune_, Finnish dancing shows an unusual tendency to
the magical, the mystic and the fantastic in emotions and ideas. It
is less the graceful and quick, fiery style that appeals to a Finn
than heavy, rugged and compact beauty. The ‘Devil’s Dance’ is weird,
ceremonial and mystical. It is performed by a single woman inside of a
ring of spectators, who are chanting to her a rhythmic and alliterative
hymn of mythologic meaning. The hands are crossed on the breast and
take no part of any kind in the display, while there are slight
mimic changes to convey the more subtle meaning of the performance.
Like the other northern races, the Finns make their dancing a
function of the body and the legs. The Finns dance to the music of a
harp--_kantele_--horn--_sarwi_--and to the singing voices. It is never
the dancer who sings, but the spectators or special singers.
More picturesque and graceful than the Finnish are the Swedish,
Norwegian and Danish folk-dances. Grieg, Svendsen, Gade, Hartmann and
the modern Scandinavian composers have made successful use of the old
folk-themes for their individual orchestral compositions. Though simple
in step, the Scandinavian folk-dances are complicated in figure, lively
and gay in manner, and rich in pantomime. They seem to have a strong
predilection to square figures and sharp lines. The Swedish dancers are
fond of arabesques, minuet grace and dainty poses. The Norwegian dance
is more rugged and imaginary, the Danish and Swedish more refined and
delicate. While the Norwegian is a naturally gifted singer, the Swede
is a born dancer. There is a strong feeling in Sweden for reviving
their old _Skralat_, _Vafva Vadna_, and other old national dances.
The latter is a weaver dance and imitates the action of the loom. The
girl, representing the movements of the shuttle, flashes back and forth
through the lines of other performers, who are imitating the stretched
threads. It is a clever piece of folk-art showing the vivid and quick
temperament of the race. There are quite a few such symbolic country
dances in Sweden, of which the harvest dances take the first place.
The _Daldans_ and _Vingakersdans_ are pantomimic dances of humorous
character, both themes dealing with the social-sexual relations in
a rather satirical way. In the latter two women are endeavoring to
gain the affection of a man. The favored one seats herself a moment
on the man’s knee and finishes the number by waltzing with him, while
the other bites her nails with vexation. In Sweden, as in France, the
sexual elements play a conspicuous rôle in the folk-dance and render it
sweetly graceful, seductive and sensuous by turns.
The Danes, being a race of industry and agriculture from the earliest
times on, have followed the lead of Norway in ethnographic matters, but
of Paris and Vienna in artistic manners. While they have developed the
national art of the ballet to a high degree, their folk-dances have
impressed me more by their cosmopolitan and imitative nature than by
any original and racial traits they may have. There are certain plastic
traits, certain soft nuances in the Danish mimicry, that speak of
something racial, yet they melt in so much with the universal art that
it is hard to analyze the national elements. Whether the ‘Corkscrew’
is a Norwegian, Danish or Swedish folk-dance, we have been unable to
learn, but it is a charming piece of folk-art. In this the couples form
in two lines. The top couple join hands, go down the middle and up
again, and turn each other by the right arm once; then the gentleman
turns the next lady, the lady the next gentleman, then each other again
to the end, when the other couples kneel and clap their hands; and the
first couple, joining hands, dance up one line and down the other, the
lady inside. Then follows the corkscrew: all join hands outstretched
with their vis-à-vis, the leading couple thread their way in and out
of the other couples, the ladies backing, taking the lead, and then
the gentlemen. All hands are raised when they reach the bottom, and,
passing under the archway thus formed, they give place to the next
couple.
The Dutch had previously many characteristic and racial folk-dances, as
their great painters have handed down to us in their numerous works,
but they have mostly died out. A Dutch folk-dance, with the performers
dressed in long brocaded gowns and close-fitting caps of the same
material, the face framed with small roses edging the cap, makes a most
quaint and charming impression. The best known of the Dutch folk-dances
is the Egg Dance, which was given with eggs beneath the feet. Another
very effective dance, though slightly coarse in conception, is their
Sailor’s Dance. The latter is danced by a couple in wooden-shoes, man
and woman with their backs to each other and faces turned away. The
dance has some eight figures and only at the end of each figure the
dancers turn swiftly around to get a glimpse of each other, and turn
back in the original position. If well executed this is an exceedingly
humorous dance.
VIII
The Lithuanians had in olden times snake dances and dances somewhat
related to the legendary and mystic themes of the American Indians.
Even in the folk-dances of the modern Lithuanians there are elements to
be found that show relation to the ancient American tribes. An average
Lithuanian folk-dance, as known and danced to-day is simple but pretty,
and is either mixed with Byzantine or with Romanesque designs. But the
legendary ideas still prevail, even in the picturesque wedding dances.
The Polish folk-dances, the _Polonaise_, _Mazurka_, _Krakoviak_, and
_Obertass_, contribute their quota of originality. The _Krakoviak_ is
a circular dance with singing interspersed; lively graceful poses,
soft delicate lines and gliding steps make it look like a refined
salon dance of mediæval nobility. The _Polonaise_ and _Mazurka_ have
spread as social dances in numerous variations throughout the world.
Chopin used the themes of many Polish folk-dances for his individual
compositions, as they are exceedingly sweet, romantic, and delicate in
their melodic structure. The _Obertass_ is a real gymnastic performance
with occasional polka-steps and wild turns. It is danced by a couple
with such velocity towards the end that the woman must hold strongly
to the shoulders of her partner in order to keep from reeling off
towards the spectators. Delicate, temperamental, with occasional
traits of melancholy and softly graceful line, the Polish folk-dances
are characteristic of the racial soul. In many respects the Poles
resemble the French in racial qualities. The debonair manners of the
French, their tendency toward romantic emotions, are to be noticed in
the Polish national dance. The qualities give it an air of seeming
refinement and make it a distinct social amusement, and nothing else.
The Bohemian, Ruthenian, Servian and Bulgarian folk-dances are each
typical of their race. A tendency of most of the Slavic folk-dances is
that the two sexes should mingle as little as possible. Men and women
join hands in certain figures, emphasizing the dramatic meaning of the
dance, otherwise they remain separated. They rarely dance in couples
as the other European races do. They make promenades, march or gallop;
they leap and bound in such a manner that the woman faces the man but
rarely touches him. The woman’s movements are distinctly feminine, the
man’s masculine. The Slav feels that the mixing of the sexes, or the
putting of woman on the same plane with man, is detrimental to the
æsthetic emotions, particularly to the romantic feelings.
The _Romaika_ and _Kolla_ are both picturesque circle dances of the
Southern Slavs. In the latter the man does not take the hand of the
woman next to him, but passes his arm under hers to clasp the hand of
her neighbor. The whole ring circles round in skipping step to the
accompaniments of melancholy songs. The women are adorned with glass
beads, huge gowns, artificial flowers and false jewelry of the most
fantastic colors. The men wear richly embroidered bright-colored shirts
and wide trousers. Sometimes a special woman dancer enters the ring and
executes a dramatic pantomime, reflecting somehow a local affair. On
other occasions man and woman go through a vivid pantomimic performance
in the circle, while the rest circle around them singing.
The Roumanians have a strange folk-dance called the _Hora_ which is
performed by the youth in languishing cadence to the long drawn notes
of the bagpipes. This consists of a prelude and a real dance. At first,
the dancers advance to the left five steps, stamping the ground and
stopping suddenly, after which they repeat the same motions for a few
times. Of this M. Lancelot writes: ‘Gradually the mandolins strike in
to enliven the solemn strain, and seem desirous to hurry it, emitting
two or three sonorous notes, but nothing moves the player of the
bagpipes; he perseveres in his indolent rhythm. At last a challenging
phrase is thrice repeated; the dancers accompany it by stamping thrice
on the ground, and looking back at the girls grouped behind them. The
latter hesitate; they look at each other, as if consulting together;
then they join hands and form a second circle round the first. Another
call, more imperious still, is sounded, they break from each other, and
mingle in the round of young men.
‘At this moment the old gypsy opens his keen little eyes, showing
his sharp white teeth in a sudden smile, shaking out a shower of
joyous, hurried notes over the band, he expresses by means of an
agitated harmony the tender thrill that must be passing through all
the clasped hands. The _Hora_ proper now begins. It lasts a long time,
but retains throughout the character of languor that characterized
its commencement. Its monotony is varied, however, by a pretty bit of
pantomime. After dancing round with arms extended, the men and their
partners turn and face each other in the middle of the circle they have
been describing. This circle they reduce by making a few steps forward;
then, when their shoulders are almost touching, they bend their heads
under their uplifted arms, and look into each other’s eyes. This figure
loses something of its effect from the frequency with which it is
repeated; and the cold placidity with which the dancers alternately
gaze at their right-hand and left-hand neighbors is disappointing, and
robs the pantomime of its classic aroma.’
IX
Of Oriental flavor are the Armenian folk-dances, which the writer saw
many years ago performed by Armenian students to the music of a queer
mandolin-like instrument and the rhythmic beats of the drum played
by the dancer with his fingers. This drum gives a register of six or
seven different tones and adds its peculiar effect to the whole. It
seems that most of the Armenian dances are executed by a single dancer,
either man or woman, in bent, erect, arched and twisted positions,
often standing on a single spot for minutes. Though languorous and
weird, they possess a grace of their own.
In no other country have the folk-dances reached such a variety of
forms, such a high degree of development and an individuality so
distinctly racial and rich in dramatic and imaginary poses, steps,
gestures and mimic expressions as in Russia. In the Russian dances
we can trace the elements of all the hundreds of ancient and modern
tribes and nationalities who have been molten in one homogeneous
mass of people, a world in itself. Here the Orient and Occident have
found a united form for their æsthetic expressions, with no relation
to those of the West-European nations. The Russian dances, like the
country itself, are a mixture of contrasts and extremes: melancholy
and yet gay, simple and even sweet; ghastly yet fascinating and
seductive; mysterious and yet open as the prairies of its own boundless
steppes; old and yet young. All these contrasts and contradictions
may be found reflected in the essentials of the Russian folk-dance.
Like the semi-Oriental style of architecture, now curved and gloomy,
then suddenly straight and dazzlingly brilliant, occasionally bizarre
and fantastic, but strongly inclined to the romantic and the mystic
forms, are the innumerable figures and steps of the Russian dances.
In Russia more than in any other country the sexual diversity in the
style of the steps, poses and mimic display is subjected to a most
careful consideration. The woman is neither equal nor inferior to the
man. She occupies her dignified position in the slightest move, by
remaining more subtle, tender and passively fascinating, while the
man’s rôle often is extravagantly masculine, sometimes even rough.
No Russian dance puts the two sexes on the same level æsthetically
and dramatically. The couple dance is an unknown, or at best a rather
crude, conception to a Russian.
Up to this time no one has yet made a thorough study of all the
Russian folk-dances, as each province and district has its particular
traditions and dances. The Volga region, having once been inhabited
by Bulgarian and Tartar tribes, has a more nomadic and adventurous
dance style than the dreamy peasants of Kostroma and Nijny Novgorod.
The dances of the Little Russians are more joyful and humorous than
those of more northern regions, but they are also less elaborate and
less dramatic. The dances of the provinces of Novgorod and Pskoff
possess an unusual tendency towards the legendary and towards free
forms of plastic expression, as if meaning to express tales of a golden
age in the past when they had a republican form of government and a
democratic evolution. The dances of the Caucasian and Crimean regions
are outspokenly romantic and epic, those of Siberia tragic and heroic.
Fundamentally, the Russian folk-dances can be divided into four
different groups: the ballad dances, or _Chorovody_; the romantic
dances of the _Kamarienskaya_ type; the dramatic dances of the
_Kasatchy_ type; the bacchanalian dances of the _Trepak_ type; and
the unlimited number of humorous, gay, amusing and entertaining
country dances--the so-called _Pliasovaya_--of purely local flavor.
Besides these there are the historic ballad dances, such as ‘Ivan the
Terrible’, ‘Ilia Murometz,’ and others. The Cossack dance, _Lesginka_,
the _Kaiterma_, the _Polowetsi_ dances, the _Vanka_, and others of this
kind, are dances of a rather local character, though they have spread
all over the country.
The oldest and most varied of Russian folk-dances are the _Chorovody_,
or the ballad dances, performed only to the singing voices of the
dancers themselves. This is a kind of ring dance like the old French
Round. In some dances the men reach their hands to the girls, in
others they touch each other with their elbows only, as the girls
keep their hands on their hips, while the men cross them on their
breast. The real dance is performed inside the ring, usually by a
girl, who sometimes has a man partner; this dance may be pantomimic,
humorous or full of wildest joy and agility. The writer has witnessed
some _Chorovody_ which were performed with such skill and finesse of
plastic pose and mimic art as to leave many ballet celebrities far in
the background. The Russian folk-dancer employs every inch of his body,
his hands, legs, toes, heels, hips, shoulders, head and the mimic art
so masterfully and correctly that you must often marvel his born talent
and lively interest in dancing. However, in all folk-dances the women
seem to play the leading rôle, the men merely supporting them with the
contrasted figures.
The _Chorovody_ were used by the mediæval _Boyars_ in a more refined
and poetic style for their social functions and the entertainment of
their guests. Later they were introduced to the court and finally they
were employed in the Russian ballets and operas. Ivan the Terrible
was fond of _Chorovody_ dances and often danced them himself, as did
also other Russian rulers. The aristocratic _Chorovody_, however, grew
more stately and artificial and lost their racial freshness. Catherine
the Great sent her chamberlains to every province to invite the best
folk-dancers to come to the court, which they did. All dances of
this type are picturesque, romantic, poetic and restrained in their
expression.
An entirely different dance is the _Kasatchy_, danced by a man and a
woman at the same time. This is more a man’s than a woman’s dance.
He selects his partner and proceeds to execute a series of seductive
motions around her, while she demurely hangs her head, refusing for a
while to be seduced by his allurements. At length she thaws and begins
to sway in harmony with his manly but graceful movement. Now they bend
and bow together, and swerve from side to side, the while performing
a multitude of gestures depicting timidity and embarrassment, till
finally from shy, half-tearful expression of love and flirting glances
they proceed with gay eyes expressive of the most burning devotion.
Now the dance waxes fierce and fast, in and out they circle, turn
and twist, ever now and then reverting to that crouching posture,
so commonly seen in the Russian folk-dances. Finally they meet in
close embrace and whirl with incredible rapidity round and round,
till thoroughly out of breath and dizzy from their effort, they sink
exhausted on a friendly bench.
The _Kamarienskaya_ is a bride’s dance, in which the girl symbolizes
all the imaginary bliss and happiness of her future married life.
In the first part, which consists of a soft _legato_, she dances
dreamily but dramatically, using conspicuously every muscle of her
body and her arms to express the imagined love motions that she will
perform in meeting her beloved. Thus the pantomime continues on to the
blissful moment of meeting, which she performs like a whirlwind, until,
unexpectedly stopping, she ends the dance with a slightly disappointed,
humorous expression.
Since our space is limited, the writer must refrain from more detailed
and further description of the previously mentioned types of the
Russian folk-dances. He need only repeat that they surpass by far
the folk-dances of all the rest of the world, in that they are so
much more racial, so rich in plastic lines, and so perfect in their
artistic appeal; it seems as if a remarkable genius had presided over
their invention and execution. They are masterfully original from the
beginning and continually furnish new ideals of choreographic beauty.
They draw their inspiration from some rich fountain unknown to the
Occidentals. They are too fresh, vigorous and alive to be perverse.
Thus having drawn kaleidoscopic sketches of the primitive racial
choreographic impulses of a number of the civilized and barbaric
races, we can come to the conclusion that in these alone are to be
found the sound and virile germs of lasting individual or highly
developed national art-dance. Ethnographic essentials are the next
stepping-stones to a more developed future cosmic choreography, and in
this the folk-dances give the most eloquent elementary lessons. As from
a mute conversation we learn from the ethnic dances in what manifold
forms one and the same beauty can manifest itself to the human mind.
The ethnic symbols are graphic and true to the spirit of the thing
expressed; for this reason a folk-dance, no matter how coarse, how
grotesque and how strange it seems, is yet sincere and intelligible to
the open-hearted observer. It always impresses one as something manly
and direct, sound and firm.