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.