Many variations were allowed; Cleisthenes having promised the hand of his daughter to the most successful dancer among her lovers, Hippoclides, of Athens, tried an innovation on the usual style; having danced the Emmeleia, or tragic dance successfully, he ordered the attendants to bring him a table, upon which he sprang, and standing on his head gesticulated with his legs. Cleisthenes indignant at this new departure, exclaimed “Oh son of Tisander you have undanced your marriage;” Cleisthenes caring more for his skill than for his marriage, replied “that is perfectly immaterial to me.”
The Emmeleia, was the stately dance belonging to tragedy, and was the one most practised by the poets of that time, as they were often obliged to teach it to the chorus, thus adding the business of dancing master, to their already numerous duties.
The Sicinis was a dance of demi-gods, and was suited to the immense figure of the heroes of tragedy, already described. There was also a dance representing Theseus wandering about in the labyrinth, the figures of which must have been very twisted and irregular.
There was a species of dancing at banquets and revels, by paid female performers, at which the shape and form of the dancer were as lavishly displayed as in the modern ballet.[59]
The Cordax, or comic dance was throughout vulgar and unseemly, and no Athenian could dance it unmasked, without bringing down upon himself the reproach of the greatest impudence and immodesty. It was so outrageous that the comic poets often tried to do without it. Aristophanes, in “The Clouds” prides himself that he does not use it in that comedy. The cordax was a dance wherein the utmost vulgarity was not only allowed but demanded.[60]
Lucian in his treatise “de Saltatione” intimates the existence of various other dances which in his day had fallen into desuetude, as the dance of the Cranes; also the Phrygian dance, which was only to be danced when the performers were drunk, and jumped about, with uncouth irregular leaps to the music of the flute.
Lucian also gives a specimen of the raillery of the people, when the dancer was not suited to the part; when a small person undertook to act Hector, they would call out, “we want Hector, not Astyanax.” To a fat dancer, on making a leap they called “be careful, you’ll break the stage;” and to a lean, sickly looking dancer they cried “go home, and nurse yourself, never mind dancing.” Such little remarks are not unsuited to the gamins of the New York or London theatres.
We have dwelt rather long upon Greek Music, Theatre Chorus, and Dancing, but the subject has more than usual interest, as in the Greek art, of all descriptions, we find the seeds from whence has sprung our own.
CHAPTER VIII.
ANCIENT ROMAN MUSIC.
Art-love was not a distinguishing characteristic of the ancient Romans, and we are not astonished therefore, to find them borrowing music from Etruria, Greece, and Egypt; originating nothing, and (although the study was pursued by the Emperors) never finding anything higher in its practice than a sensuous gratification.