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THE ART OF MUSIC

The Art of Music

A Comprehensive Library of Information
for Music Lovers and Musicians

Editor-in-Chief

DANIEL GREGORY MASON
Columbia University

Associate Editors

EDWARD B. HILL LELAND HALL
Harvard University Past Professor, Univ. of Wisconsin

Managing Editor

CÉSAR SAERCHINGER
Modern Music Society of New York

In Fourteen Volumes
Profusely Illustrated

NEW YORK
THE NATIONAL SOCIETY OF MUSIC

Odalisque in ‘Scheherazade’ (Russian Ballet)

Design by Léon Bakst

THE ART OF MUSIC: VOLUME TEN

The Dance

Department Editor:
IVAN NARODNY

Introduction by

ANNA PAVLOWA
Ballerina, Imperial Russian Ballet

NEW YORK
THE NATIONAL SOCIETY OF MUSIC

Copyright, 1916, by
THE NATIONAL SOCIETY OF MUSIC, Inc.
[All Rights Reserved]

THE DANCE

INTRODUCTION

‘The gods themselves danced, as the stars dance in the sky,’ is a saying of the ancient Mexicans. ‘To dance is to take part in the cosmic control of the world,’ said the ancient Greek philosophers. ‘What do you dance?’ asks the African Bantu of a member of another tribe after his greeting. Livingston said that when an African wild man danced, that was his religion. It is said that the savages do not preach their religion but dance it. According to the Bible, the ancient Hebrews danced before their Ark of the Covenant. St. Basil describes the angels dancing in Heaven. According to Dante, dancing is the real occupation of the inmates of Heaven, Christ acting as the leader of a celestial ballet. ‘Dancing,’ said Lucian, ‘is as old as love.’ Dance had a sacred and mystic meaning to the early Christians upon whom the Bible had made a deep impression: ‘We have piped unto you and ye have not danced.’

The service of the Greek Church—even to-day—is for the most part only a kind of sacred dance, accompanied by chants and singing. The priest, walking and gesturing with an incense-pan up and down before the numerous ikons, kneeling, bowing to the saints, performing queer cabalistic figures with his hands in the air, and following always a certain rhythm, is essentially a dancer. It is said that dancing of a similar kind was performed in the English cathedrals until the fourteenth century. In France the priests danced in the choir at the Easter Mass up to the seventh century. In Spain similar religious dancing took deepest root and flourished longest. In the Cathedrals of Seville, Toledo, Valencia and Xeres the dancing survives and is the feature at a few special festivals.

‘The American Indian tribes seem to have had their own religious dances, varied and elaborate, often with a richness of meaning which the patient study of the modern investigators has but slowly revealed,’ writes Havelock Ellis. It is a well-known fact that dancing in ancient Egypt and Greece was an art that was practiced in their temples. ‘A good education,’ wrote Plato, ‘consists in knowing how to sing well and how to dance well.’ According to Plutarch, Helen of Sparta was practicing the Dance of Innocence in the Temple of Artemis when she was surprised and carried away by Theseus. We are told by Greek classics that young maidens performed dances before the altars of various goddesses, consisting of ‘grave steps and graceful, modest attitudes belonging to that order of choric movement called emmeleia.’ The ancient Egyptian Astronomic Dance can be considered the sublimest of all dances; here, by regulated figures, steps, and movements, the order and harmonious motion of the celestial bodies was represented to the music of the flute, lyre and syrinx. Plato alludes to this dance as ‘a divine institution.’

In spite of the high status of dancing in the ancient civilizations, it has not progressed steadily, as have the other arts. It has remained the least systematized and least respected of arts, generally considered as lacking in seriousness of intention, fitness to express grave emotions, and power to touch the heights and depths of the intellect. Being an art that expresses itself first in the human body, the dance has aroused reprobation in certain pious, puritanical minds of mediæval type, who have considered it a collection of ‘immodest and dissolute movements by which the cupidity of the flesh is aroused.’ It is this particular view that has damned dance with bell, book and candle. The main reason for this has been the hostile attitude of the church to all folk-arts which manifested a more or less conspicuous ethnographic individuality—that is, were stamped as of Pagan and not Christian origin. All folk-dancing, broadly speaking, is a natural form of æsthetic courtship. The male intends to win the female by his beauty, grace and vigor, or vice versa. From the point of view of sexual selection we can understand, on the one hand, the immense ardor with which every sensuous part of the human body has been brought into the play of the dance, and, on the other, the arguments of the pseudo-moralists to classify it with the frivolous and least tolerated arts.

The stamp of frivolity, put upon the dance by the Christian clergy, has retarded its natural development for several centuries. Italy and Germany, having been the cradles of all modern music and stage arts, have given little inspiration to a systematic development of the art of dancing. The seventeenth, eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, that have meant so much to the perfection of the opera, vocal and orchestra technique, gave nothing of any significance to choreography. The church that tolerated Bach, Paësiello, Haydn, Mozart and Beethoven, put an open ban upon everything that had any relation to the dance. The great musical classics of the past centuries have treated dance as an insignificant side issue, thereby putting a label of inferiority upon this loftiest of arts. All the dance music of the great classics sounds naïve and lacking in choreographic images. Yet dance and music are like light and shadow, each depending upon the other. As canvas is to a painter, so is music to a dancer the essential element upon which he can draw his picture. The fact that the art of dancing has not evolved into its normal state of equality with the other arts, is wholly due to the lack of musical leadership. Neither the reforms of Noverre nor those of Fokine nor Marius Petipa can be of fundamental value if they lack the phonetic designs which alone a choreographic artist can transform into plastic events. Essentially, and æsthetically speaking, dancing should be the elemental expression alike of symbolic religion and love, as it used to be from the earliest human times.

Dancing and architecture are the two primary and plastic arts: the one in Time, the other in Space; the one expressing the soul directly through the medium of the human body, the other giving only an outline of the soul through the medium of fossilized forms. The origin of these two arts is earlier than man himself. Both require mathematics, the one rhythmically, the other symmetrically. For dancing the mathematical forms are to be found in music, for architecture, in geometry. ‘The significance of dancing, in the wide sense, thus lies in the fact that it is simply an intimate concrete appeal of that general rhythm which marks all the physical and spiritual manifestations of life,’ writes Havelock Ellis. ‘The art of dancing moreover is intimately entwined with all human traditions of war, of labor, of pleasure, of education, while some of the wisest philosophers and ancient civilizations have regarded the dance as the pattern in accordance with which the moral life of man must be woven. To realize therefore what dance means for mankind—the poignancy and the many-sidedness of its appeal—we must survey the whole sweep of human life, both at its highest and at its deepest moments.’

Anna Pavlowa.

CONTENTS OF VOLUME TEN

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

THE DANCE

CHAPTER I
THE PSYCHOLOGY OF DANCING

Æsthetic basis of the dance; national character expressed in dances; ‘survival value’ of dancing; primitive dance and sexual selection; professionalism in dancing—Music and the dance; religion and the dance; historic analysis of folk-dancing and ballet.

I

Every true art is a direct and immediate act of life. As in music and dancing, so in life, rhythm is the skeleton of tone and movement and also the basis of existence. We breathe rhythmically and our heart beats rhythmically. We walk, laugh and weep rhythmically. Rhythm is the only frame to the moving material of the visuo-audible art. What except rhythm can unite living men in order to convert them from a chaotically moving crowd into a work of art? It was undoubtedly the innate feeling for rhythm that actuated the primitive man to dance. All existing races show a strong tendency to dance, as well in their primitive as in the more or less civilized state. The plastic forms of the human body lend themselves more to an æsthetic expression that contains architecture, sculpture, painting, poetry, drama and music, than anything else in creation. The mimic expressions of the face, the agility of the steps, the grace of gestures and poses are all natural means which a man can employ in his dance. The symmetric lines of the body that are produced after the melodic patterns of the music form the æsthetic basis of the art of dancing. The ability to give a living meaning to these lines is what makes a dance beautiful and divine. Although frequently the beauty of a line and movement can be observed in animals and birds, yet there it is an unconscious act, lacking in that individual and subjective feeling that we call inspiration.

The foremost element in every dance is—the step. Step is also, practically speaking, the first movement of life. In consequence of pure physical laws each step requires a new impulse and thus divides it into two periods: motion and repose. The continuance of these two rhythmic periods produces the feeling of symmetry and joy, which in its turn creates the various combined movements that again are divided into various sub-motions and partial measures. The development of steps in a dance is based on two principles: the movement of the feet, and the combined movement of the body and hands for grace or mimicry. Consequently dance is nothing but a chain of bodily movements that are subjected to a certain musical rhythm and follow the emotional expressions of the dancer. According to an innate principle dance, like speech, was practiced by the primitive races as a medium of the most vital expressions. By means of a dance the savages express their joy, sorrow, anger, tenderness and love. Dance has its peculiar psychology, which varies according to racial temperament, climate and other conditions. This is best illustrated in the various styles of the folk-dance. To the vigorous races of Northern Europe in their cold and damp climate dancing became naturally a function of the legs. The Scandinavian and Finnish folk-dances betray more heavy and massive motion, while those of Spain, Hungary and Italy or France give an impression of romantic grace, coquettish agility and fire. The folk-dances of the Cossacks are usually violent and acrobatic, as is their life. Energy or dreaminess, fire or coolness, and a multitude of other racial qualities assert themselves automatically in a folk-dance. The list of forces that make and preserve a nation’s dances is incomplete without the addition of the powerful element of national pride, weakness or other peculiarities. On the contrary, in the Far East, in Japan, Java, China, etc., dancing is exclusively a motion of the hands and fingers alone. In ancient Rome dancing was predominantly the rhythmic motion of the body, with vibratory or rotatory movements of breast or flanks. The Stomach Dance of the Arabians betrays the wild passion of a nomadic desert race.

According to Louis Robinson, dancing is an innate instinct that has an indirect bearing upon the existence of the human race. Robinson argues that throughout Nature instincts, like the organs of our bodies, are the product of the strict laws of evolution, and have been built up to meet some need. At some critical time in the past they had a certain survival value—i. e., they were capable of determining in the struggle for existence which individuals or tribes should go under and which should survive. This principle can be taken as one of the axioms which must be our pilots in every attempt to account for the faculties which each of us brings into the world, as distinct from those acquired in the life of the individual.

Practically every savage people has elaborate dances and spends a good deal of time in such exercises. Among adults dancing takes the place of the play of children. When we come to analyze the play of all young creatures from the historical standpoint we find it forms part of an elaborate natural system of physical training. The perpetual motion of the kitten while it is awake is obviously a training for those accomplishments which in later life mean a livelihood. Such astonishing skill and agility as are shown by the cats in securing prey cannot be attained by any ready-made machinery like that of the dragon-fly or the mantis: they must be built up and manufactured. Herein the nervous mechanism of the mammalia has prevailed over the limited mechanical perfection of lower things such as reptiles, fish, and insects. Most of them can do some one thing or other supremely well, but the mammalia, with their better nervous system and receptive brains, can excel in many things. We, with our greater gifts of the same sort, are the most versatile and teachable of all; hence we prevail over the rest of creation. The kitten, the puppy, and the young savage, by their continual restless and organized activity, gain great advantage in certain movements necessary in after life, and foster the growth of the particular muscles which later on will be absolutely requisite in the serious business of holding their place in the world. Obviously such instincts would become out of date and inappropriate should the general manner of living undergo a complete change. Hence we find that much of the play of young children in civilized lands has little or no reference to the serious life which comes afterwards. Such instincts, however, were developed during or before the long stretch of time of the Stone Age, when all men played hide and seek, and chased one another, and threw things, and ran, and jumped, and wrestled for exactly the same reason that makes us scan commercial articles, attend markets, and work in our studies or offices. What is observable in any nursery or playground affords a good illustration of the persistence of instincts long after the need which created them has passed away. For some reason the play instinct in most creatures tends to lapse at the time of full bodily maturity. It does not cease entirely, but apparently it no longer suffices as an incentive for the battle of life.

Man in the savage state is naturally lazy and does not like to exert himself when food comes easily. When no urgent need or human authority is pushing him, he prefers to eat to repletion and then to lie in the sun or loaf. We even find this primitive habit cropping up in strenuous lands where the stimulus of moral education and competition has been at work for generations.

We are all aware that, when we are lazy for any length of time, we get slack and soft. The primitive savage who lives by hunting and is in continual danger of raids from his neighbors, cannot afford to get slack. He must keep himself fit every day of life. How was this to be managed by our prehistoric forefathers when there was no fighting, with the weather soft, and a delicious fish easily to be caught quite near the dwelling? It is pretty safe to say that, owing to the want of condition—if they were not dancing tribes—they did not leave descendants which are among us in the twentieth century.

It seems strange how readily a group of negroes who are apparently exhausted after a long day’s work will join in dance with their fellows, and how, when not very tired, they will in their laziest moments spring up and take vigorous exercise of this kind. Every doctor will tell you that there are plenty of women to-day who have not the strength nor the energy to do any work or to walk a couple of miles, but who will dance from evening till morning without showing any great fatigue. Among such Pagans as the Zulus and Masai, who organize themselves for war almost as well as has ever been done by the most civilized Christians, there is practically no distinction between military exercises and dancing. This is proof enough to show that dancing had a survival value throughout the long stretch of the Stone Age. Dancing taught primitive men to move in compact bodies without confusion, and especially without getting so bunched together that they could not use their weapons.

To-day the true war-dance only persists among us in the form of military marchings, but the other primitive dances have left numerous descendants of all kinds and degrees, down to the modern tango. Among these non-military dances the survival value, apart from the healthy exercise which they provided and their general disciplinary effects, worked through the agency of sexual selection.

In the case of the primitive dances the working of sexual selection was beneficial as conducive to racial fitness. The dances in which women took part gave opportunity for appraisement of exactly the kind needed for a sound choice of mates under savage conditions. It afforded the chance, so lacking in our present civilization, of advertising any admirable qualities which might be possessed. It was a test not only of physical grace and perfection, but of activity, taste and temper. It contributed to honest matrimonial dealing—especially when danced in the approved ballroom costumes of savage times.

There have been many discussions as to why clothes were first worn—whether for ornament, warmth, or decency—but one may fairly say without any doubt whatever that, from the first ages until now, dance clothing has been mainly decorative. Here we find an ethical justification of matters connected with dancing dress, which has often provoked severe criticism among puritans. Without a doubt from the earliest times until now the dance has been a chief purifying agent in the marriage market—has played the part, in fact, of those market inspectors appointed to guard against adulteration.

It is a most extraordinary thing, when we come to consider man’s place in Nature, that he ever began to dance. Not that dancing is uncommon in Nature; many birds, especially those of the crane tribe, execute elaborate dances during their season of courtship, and as a mere pastime when they have nothing else to do. Few, if any, of the mammalia appear to indulge in organized dances, unless we give such a name to the frisking of young lambs and the prancing evolutions of horses and antelopes. Assuredly, in our direct line of descent nothing of the kind could have existed as far back as our knowledge and imagination will carry us. You cannot very well dance in the trees, which, according to Darwin, were the real nurseries of our species; and when you come down to solid earth your weak prehensile lower members would only make you ridiculous and contemptible if they attempted any performance of the kind.

Mother Nature, however, is a dame of infinite varieties, and seems continually to be trying the most bizarre experiments apparently without the least prompting or justification. The products of these experiments are called ‘sports,’ and there seems no limit to their possibilities. Chimpanzees delight in thumping hollow trees and knocking pieces of wood together, while it is said that the gorilla waddles to war to the sound of the drum, improvising a substitute by beating his hands against his brawny chest.

In the Western world professionalism in dancing has happily not had the blighting effect on the pursuit that it seems to have had on some other forms of pastime. But if we go to the East we find that practically all other forms of dancing have ceased to exist. We see the effect of this tendency most fully developed in China, where the recreative dancing of European society seems to be quite beyond the comprehension of a well-bred Chinese, who naïvely asks the question: ‘Why do you not pay people to dance for you?’

Stage dancing seems to be an interesting instance of the degeneration into pure luxury or something which was at one time a helpful influence to the race. This is a tendency observable in many phases of life when the pressure of evolutionary forces is somewhat relaxed. Most of the luxuries pertain to matters which at one time had a survival value, and it cannot be said that they have retired from among the evolutionary forces even to-day; but their effect, if still beneficial to the race, lies in aiding Nature to eliminate the unfit.

II

From the earliest times on dancing has been dependent upon music of some kind. The question whether music is older than dancing has not been answered satisfactorily by academic anthropologists yet. However, all scholars agree that the appearance of these two arts must have been more or less simultaneous, the one influencing the other. But undoubtedly the first dance music was not instrumental but vocal. The savages to-day dance most of their sexual dances to rhythmic recitation of certain words. Music is in every phase of evolution the only true essence of that which forms the subject of the dance.

To the transformation of more or less primitive folk-dances into those of strictly religious character is due the principal idea of the modern ballet. In the Oriental temples dancing underwent a strange transformation. While dancing was made the basis of dramatic and symbolic ideas, yet this very fact became detrimental to the musical influence upon the choreography. The Egyptians, whom we consider the pioneers in religious dances, originated elaborate temple ballets, which were based more upon a dramatic than a musical theme. Though the tradition speaks of rounds, of symbolic and sidereal motions, and the instruments chiefly employed, as the Egyptian guitar, used both by men and women, the single and double pipe, the harp, lyre, and flute, yet essentially this all resembled a pantomime rather than actual dance.

It is very likely that all the ancient sacred dances originated with the subconscious idea of counteracting the sensuous or strictly playful influence of the social dances. The whole pedigree of our Western religions seems to show a remarkable absence of this method of encouraging religious feeling. The reasons why such manifestations were discouraged by Jewish and Christian moralists pertains to physiology rather than theology. As already said, man’s nature is compounded of many diverse elements, and the machinery of emotion at present at work within us dates back to our animal past. Our most refined and exalted feelings spring from the same nervous reservoirs and pass through the very channels which were at one time solely occupied by grosser passions. The Egyptian church that grew directly of the folk-art of the country was a stranger to Greece and Rome, and still more so to our Christian religion. The ethical ideals that actuated the Egyptian priests in introducing dancing at the altar, sprang directly from the soil and meant, in bringing the better part of human nature to the top, to act as a kind of separator. The priests discovered that the higher emotions, with the help of sacred dancing, can be put to excellent service as impulses to improved conduct. The Christian missionaries, coming from the East, found nothing elevating and ennobling in our Western dancing, which did not appeal to them on account of the very differences of the style and racial character. It is due to their opposition that the religious dances have faded out under the Western civilization. The warfare against dancing generally, on the part of the Apostles of Christianity, dates back to the fanatic era of theological and nationalistic differences. In all countries where the religion descends directly from a racial folk-lore, dancing has remained in high esteem at home and in the temples. This we find true in Egypt, Greece, India and China. In the Jewish form of worship there seems to have been no formally recognized dancing, although we have records of several displays of this kind, as in the case of King David, when, ‘clothed in a linen ephod, he danced before the Ark of the Lord with all his might.’

In Greece, cradle of the arts, the Muses manifested themselves to man as a dancing choir, led by Terpsichore. The Romans imitated the Greeks in all their arts and imported with the Greek slaves Greek dances. But Rome was too barbaric to appreciate the full value of Greece’s poetic arts. The solemn religious dance instituted by Numa and practiced by the Salian priests soon degenerated into ceremonial march that was abolished when Rome became Christian, through a papal decree in 744. Darkness of night fell on the development of secular and religious dancing, a darkness that endured for centuries. The influence of the Nile in Egypt and Cadiz in Spain, which for centuries had been the two great centres of the ancient dancing and supplied their dancers to the Roman potentates, faded out slowly in the history of European nations. The folk-dances were labelled as low and undignified amusements of Pagan peasants. Dance in every form remained an outcast, despised and condemned until the court circles of Italy and France distorted it to an amusement at domestic gatherings and masquerades. It is said that the modern ballet had its origin in the spectacular masquerades arranged for the marriage of Galeazzo, Visconti, Duke of Milan, in 1489. The impression of this performance spread to the Court of Florence. Catherine de Medici, the Queen of France, brought the Italian court pantomime to Paris, where the French kings and queens grew to admire dancing and took actual part in it. The attempts of Noverre to elevate the art of dancing to what it had been in ancient Egypt and Greece, were successful only externally. Music, the soul of dancing in the modern sense, was lacking, and without this soul the art of plastic form is incomplete. Though the Russian reformers elevated dancing from a domestic amusement to a serious and lofty stage art, they did not succeed wholly in giving to it the foundation that it deserves among the other arts. All the past and living goddesses of choreography have not had the freedom, the phonetic means and dramatic threads to thrill their audiences as they would, if man had not distorted and hidden the natural meaning of the dance that inspired his barbaric ancestors.

The philosophical conclusion of our historic analysis of dance leads back to the same axioms that actuated the savage in his practice of agility: the sexual selection and primitive sport, both necessary for evolution and the existence of the race. However, there is neither sexual motive nor instinct for ‘physical culture’ in the ‘Heavenly Alchemy’ of evolution that has created the poetic movements of Taglioni and her successors. The ancient racial propensities have developed into more spiritual ideas. Like the tendency of evolution generally, to universalize an individual and individualize the universe, so in dance the racial characteristics are transformed into cosmic motives. In this stage beauty becomes symbolic and concrete emotions take on a more and more abstract form. The survival value of the greatest art of the dance lies in ennobling the intellect and soul, which has necessarily an indirect bearing upon the physical. Ultimately this means perfection of the whole human organism. It inspires the mind and influences the body.

Civilization has brought humanity to a state where the physical needs depend upon the psychical. We have devised a more complicated form of sexual selection and more complicated means of existence than the primitive dances employed in our animal past. Beauty in the long course of evolution has grown more spiritual, accordingly dancing as an art has become an evolutionary medium of the intellect.

CHAPTER II
DANCING IN ANCIENT EGYPT

Earliest Egyptian records of dancing; hieroglyphic evidence; the Astral dance; Egyptian court and temple rituals; festival of the Sacred Bull—Music of the Egyptian dances; Egyptian dance technique; points of similarity between Egyptian and modern dancing; Hawasis and Almeiis; the Graveyard dance; modern imitations.

I

Long before the rest of the world had emerged from barbarism Egypt had reached a high state of civilization. But the history of Egyptian civilization was hidden behind a curtain of mysteries, until the key to the hieroglyphs was discovered. Then, the imposing pyramids opened suddenly their sealed lips and the world stood aghast at their revelations. The ruins of Memphis and Thebes became books of interesting reading. The discovered inscriptions and papyri revealed the high state of development that the dance had reached in the ancient Egyptian temples. The first dancing in Egyptian history is recorded by Manetho, the priest of Heliopolis who lived in 5004 B. C.,—which is approximately one thousand years before the creation of the world, according to Biblical chronology. Plato alludes to Egyptian art and dancing performed ten thousand years before his time. Schliemann, the great archeologist, maintained that the history of Egypt was written in various dance-phases, as can be seen from the inscriptions of their ancient sarcophagi and pyramids.

Scarce as are the hieroglyphic materials, nevertheless they reveal to us that the Egyptians, during the reign of the Pharaohs, highly admired the art of dancing. Most of the Egyptian documents or inscriptions begin with dancing figures. These figures are to be found in the most ancient records, which proves that dancing must have been known as an art to the Egyptians not for hundreds but for thousands of years. Herodotus, ‘the father of history,’ tells us that the dances performed to Osiris were as elaborate as the music of a hundred instruments and a chorus of three hundred singers. According to Diodorus, Hermes gave to mankind the first laws of eurhythmics. ‘Hermes taught the Egyptians the art of graceful body movements.’ A fragmentary inscription of a sarcophagus in the Museum of Petrograd describes that Maneros, ‘who conquered so many nations, did this not by means of torch and sword but by teaching the divine art of music and dancing.’ The ancient Egyptian legend surrounds Maneros with nine dancing Muses, which the Greeks probably copied from Egypt later. Music and dancing were employed by the Egyptians at home, in social festivals, on the occasion of marriage, birth and death, and in the temples. Their folk-dances were as gay and fiery as the temperament of the race. This is best illustrated in the recently discovered frescoes of peasants dancing, evidently after their daily work in the fields.

Being worshippers of all the celestial bodies, the Egyptians practiced in their temples certain astronomical ballets. It is said that Hermes, the inventor of the lyre, produced from his instrument as many tones as there were stars in the sky. The three strings of his lyre meant Winter, Summer and Spring. This gives an idea to what an extent astronomy and nature figured in all their dancing and music. The Astral Dance was an imitation of the movement of the various constellations. In this their imagination knew no limit. The altar, around which most of the astral dances were performed, represented the sun. According to the descriptions of Plutarch, the dancers made with their hands the signs of the zodiac in the air, while dancing rhythmically from the east to the west, in imitation of the movement of various planets. After every circle the dancers stopped for a few moments as if petrified, which was meant to represent the immovability of the earth. By means of combined gestures and mimic expressions, the priests gave intelligible pantomimic stories of the astral system and the harmony of eternal motion. Lucian called this one of the most divine inventions.

It is a pity that all the hieroglyphic records known to us do not give any adequate explanation of the ancient Egyptian Astral Dance. The descriptions left by Greek writers are too general and are frequently incorrect. Various scholars have made efforts to discover the mystic meaning of the dance of the ‘Seven Moving Planets,’ but in vain. How much the idea of an astral dance has impressed the European ballet-masters is proved in that Dauberval and Gardel produced in the eighteenth century ballets of this character. However, in this case the performers were not priests but fantastically dressed ballet dancers who, representing various stars and planets, jumped and turned around the prima ballerina, who represented the sun.

To what an extent the love of pantomime and dancing prevailed in Egypt can be judged from the recently made decipherings by Setche of the inscriptions of the sarcophagus of a prime minister which describes the code of an elaborate court ritual. The inscription tells how a newly-appointed minister should meet his ruler. He should enter the imperial hall, dancing so that from his gestures, poses and miming could be read devotion, loyalty, chivalry, grace, tenderness, vigor and energy. Pharaoh, in his turn, would meet the minister with a different sort of dance. The reception would end with the joining of all the court functionaries, musicians and priests in a great procession.

The Egyptian clergy exercised a great influence upon the people. Imitating the court of the Pharaohs, they surrounded the religious rituals with unnecessary secrets. The more mysterious they made the ceremonies the more they impressed the people. In consequence of such an attitude on the part of the clergy, a large majority of religious dances grew so complicated in their symbolic details that they degenerated into nonsense. A large number of the Egyptian sacred dances were based on the cult of Isis and Osiris, the one a feminine, the other a masculine divinity. This gave the fundamental idea of maintaining a large number of the so-called ‘sacred’ courtesans, who took an active part in most of the temple dances. Herodotus tells us that the presence of these ‘sacred’ courtesans in the Egyptian temple ceremonies during the last Dynasties is responsible for the downfall of this ancient civilization.

Most of the Egyptian temple dances were performed by men and women alike. On the other hand, there existed special feminine and strictly masculine ballets. Of the feminine dances, the most known is the dance which was performed during the celebrated sacrificial festival of the sacred bull Apis. After the black bull on whose back grew naturally the figure of a white eagle was found, forty temple maidens were selected to feed it forty days on the shores of the Nile. All this time the maidens had to practice the great ballet that they were to perform thereafter. The Festival of the Sacred Bull was opened with a solemn dance of the priests in the temple of Osiris at Memphis. Then the bull was carried through the city by the maidens in a spectacular procession, accompanied by singing and dancing. When the bull was brought before the huge statue of Osiris the real ballet was performed by priests and maidens together. The ballet, which lasted for half a day, was opened with a slow introduction in march form. In this the dancers personified the birth process of divinities, particularly of Osiris. In the second movement, which probably resembled a modern allegro energico, were depicted the youth and romantic adventures of Osiris with the goddess Isis. Priests in fantastic costumes represented Osiris and his warriors, while the maidens played the rôle of Isis and her companions. The last movement of the ballet closed with a festival finale, which meant the victory of Osiris in conquering India. When the sacred bull was drowned in the Nile a violent funeral ballet was performed by the priests. As the recently discovered bas-reliefs illustrate, the dancing priests wore costumes consisting of a yellow tunic and round caps.

While some of the Egyptologues maintain that dancing was performed only on special occasions such as the above, others are of the opinion that every Egyptian temple service contained some kind of dance. However, the hieroglyphic inscriptions of various periods prove that there were hundreds of different temple dances. Of particular interest is the recently discovered ‘Dance of Four Dimensions,’ which was performed in the temple of Isis. In this both priests and priestesses participated. It differed from the other dances in that the dancers carried along their musical instruments.

II

Since the art of dancing had reached such a high degree of culture in Egypt it is evident that the people must have possessed a highly developed form of music. Though musical history denies the fact that harmony was known to the ancient civilization, yet the recent archeologic discoveries and hieroglyphic decipherings speak eloquently of the use of various instruments in a kind of orchestra, and there are frequent allusions to temple choirs of a hundred and more singers. Dr. Schliemann even believes that the Egyptians had their specific musical notation which was still in use by the Arabs when they came to Spain. It is only natural to believe that an art of such a high standard was taught in a school, as the technique that they evidence is the result of long and systematic studies. ‘It is very likely,’ a Russian archeologist writes, ‘that the Egyptian academy of music and dancing was connected with the temple of Ammon.’

It is evident that the Egyptians knew practically every choreographic rule and possessed a technique which our most celebrated dancers have not yet reached. Their mimic expressions are superb, as are their eurhythmic gestures and poses. Since the temple in Egypt united under its supreme patronage all the arts, it is only natural that dancing and music knew no other forms of expression, except the home. However, the court of Pharaohs played a big rôle in stimulating a secular style of dance, which the Greeks later performed in a modified form on their stage. Various inscriptions and sarcophagus bas-reliefs depict a corps of several hundred dancers that was maintained by the ruler. The Queen Cleopatra was so fond of dancing that she herself gave performances in a specially constructed hall, dimly lighted and richly decorated. Here she danced nude to her guests behind numerous gauze curtains, using constantly the effects of fused light produced by different colored lanterns. She had a well trained and beautiful voice and played masterfully on various instruments. Also, in connection with her dances, Cleopatra used heavy redolescent perfumes by means of which she put her audience into a ‘passionate trance.’

That the Egyptian dancers knew pirouettes, fouetté pirouettes, arabesques, pas de cheval, and other modern ballet tricks 5,000 years ago is proven by the dancing figures that can be seen at the sarcophagi at Beni Hassan. These figures illustrating ballet corps are usual. A common style of Egyptian dancing was the peculiar reverse movement of the two dancers which reached a rhythmic perfection, particularly in dances where many participated, that is absolutely unknown to our choreographic artists. Some dances show great architectural beauty in their pyramidic combinations. The use of the hands at the same time with the use of the legs is evidently more in keeping with a certain style and harmony of line, than that employed by our ballet or classic dancers.

There is in the Egyptian gallery of the British Museum a wall painting taken from a tomb at Thebes. The painting is supposed to have been executed during the eighteenth or nineteenth dynasty, and in it are depicted two dancing girls facing in opposite directions. There is plenty of action and agility depicted in these figures. In one the hands are raised high above the head; in the other they are lowered. One female not dancing is represented playing a double pipe, and others are clapping their hands. The accompanists are dressed, but the dancers wear only a gauze tunic.

All Egyptian professional dancers are represented either nude or very slightly dressed and the performances were given by the people of highest respectability. All Egyptologues are of the opinion that the outline of the transparent robe worn by these dancing girls may, in certain instances, have become effaced; but others say that it is certain they danced naked, as their successors, the Almeiis, do. The view of Sir Gardner Wilkinson that the Egyptians forbade the higher classes to learn dancing as an amusement or profession, because they dreaded the excitement resulting from such an occupation, the excess of which ruffled and discomposed the mind, contradicts the opinions of other scholars on the same subject. We read in the Bible that after the Israelites had safely accomplished the passage across the Red Sea, Miriam, the sister of Moses and Aaron, herself a prophetess, took a tambourine in her hand, and danced with other women to celebrate the overthrow of their late task-masters. There are other instances in the Bible which tend to show that among the Jews, who were reared on Egyptian civilization, it was customary for people of the most exalted rank to dance. There is a reproduction of Amenophis II. from one of the oldest tombs of Thebes that goes to show that Egyptians of all classes were highly proficient in the art of dancing. Four upper class women are represented as playing and dancing at the same time, but their instruments are for the most part obliterated. A fifth figure is resting on one knee, with her hands crossed before her breast. The posing of the heads in these figures is masterful. In another painting from Beni Hassan, executed about three thousand five hundred years ago, a dancer is represented in the act of performing a pirouette in the extended fourth position. The arms are fully outstretched, and the general attitude of the figure is precisely what it might be in executing a similar movement at the present day. It is also noticeable that the angle formed by the upper part of the foot and fore part of the leg is obtuse, which is quite in accordance with modern choreographic rules, while the natural inclination of an inexperienced and untrained dancer when holding the limb in such a position would be to bend the foot towards the shin, or at least to keep it in its normal position at right angles.

From many paintings and sculptures that have been discovered, we may gather that the primary rules by which the movements of the dancers are governed have not altered since the time of the Pharaohs. The first thing the Egyptian dancers were taught was evidently to turn their toes outward and downward, and special attention was paid to the positions of their arms, which were gracefully extended and raised high, with the hands almost joining above the head. In the small tablet of Baken Amen representing the adoration of Osiris, now in the British Museum, all arm positions of the dancing figures are excellent. In one of the sculptures from Thebes a figure is unmistakably performing an entrechât. Other figures go to show that the Egyptians employed frequently jetés, coupés, cabrioles, toe and finger tricks. There are reproductions representing dance figures for two performers, executing apparently a kind of minuet. Between the dancers in each figure are inscriptions which refer to the name of the dance. Thus, for instance, one was called mek na snut, or making a pirouette. This appears to have been a movement in which the dancers turned each other under the arms, as in the pas d’Allemande.

Besides the temple dances, Egypt had travelling ballet companies, giving their performances in the open air gardens of towns and villages. The nomadic Hawasis whose profession to-day is chiefly dancing, are undoubtedly barbarized descendants of the Hawasis that entertained the Pharaohs with their passionate and fiery social dances. Most of the Hawasi dances were of a sensuous nature, performed exclusively by girls, either naked or in light gauze dresses. The themes of all these dances were often so distinctly feminine, depicting the romantic nature of a woman so graphically, that they were performed only as a part of wedding ceremonies. In regard to this style of dance Sir Gardner Wilkinson expresses the conviction ‘that there is reason to believe that dances representing a continuous action or argument of a story were in use privately and were executed by ladies attached to the harem or household.’

Egyptian women dancing with cymbals

From an ancient fresco (in the original colors)

Another secular class of Egyptian dances was that performed by Almeiis. While the style and subject of the Hawasi dances tended to express the sexual passions, the Almeiis had learned to be ‘classic’ and scholarly. The Almeiis of to-day maintain that they descend directly from the dancing Pharaohs. The romantic element in the Almeii dances remains within the limits of a strict code of propriety. For that reason the dancing Almeiis, like the clergy, enjoyed an immunity from the common law. The Almeiis of to-day enjoy the same ancient reputation throughout the East and are invited by the Mohammedan chiefs to teach dancing to their harems. They can be seen dancing in the Arabian desert and in Tunis, Algiers, Tripoli and Morocco. But their present-day dances lack the subtleties and technique that their ancestors possessed five thousand years ago. Their celebrated Sword and Stomach Dances have degenerated into deplorable vaudeville shows. Petipa, the celebrated Russian ballet master, has succeeded in composing a brilliant ballet on the theme of Almeii dances, called ‘The Daughter of the Pharaoh.’ However, excellent as the Russian ballet dancers are, they have never performed it to the satisfaction of its author.

One of the weird ancient Egyptian dances that has survived and is practiced by several Oriental races, particularly in Arabia, Persia and Sahara, is the Graveyard Dance. It is known that the Almeiis used to perform this dance at midnight on the graveyards of rich Egyptians, frequently around the pyramids. Though semi-religious, it did not belong to the classified sacred dances performed under the supervision of the clergy. Prof. Elisseieff thinks that this dance probably originated in lower Egypt and belonged there to a recognized temple ceremony, but the priests in upper Egypt failed to recognize it, so the Almeiis monopolized it with great advantage.

The Graveyard Dance performed in the East to-day is wild, weird and ghastly. It is performed by women, dressed in long robes, which cover even their heads. It is danced on moonlight nights by professional Almeiis. These are hired by the relatives or descendants of the rich dead to accompany the wandering soul until it reaches that sphere which belongs to it. There is much strange symbolism and morbid beauty in the Graveyard Dance. Just as weird as the dance is the music, produced from pipes and drums, often accompanied by hooting or sobbing voices. It begins in a slow measure, the dancers marching like spectral shadows in a circle around the musicians. Gradually the music grows quicker, as does the dance. It ends in a wild fury after which the dancers drop unconscious to the ground.

The dances of the living Almeiis and Hawasis and their imitators give little idea of the high art of dancing that was practiced thousands of years ago in ancient Egypt. The modern axis and stomach dances that are practiced by the daughters of the various tribes of the desert are crude acrobatic feats and vulgar degenerations of the graceful and highly developed art that has vanished with the whole ancient civilization of Egypt. In 1900 there appeared in Paris a supposed-to-be descendant of the celebrated ancient Almeiis, La belle, unique et incomparable Fatma, giving performances of ‘Egyptian Wedding Scenes’ and a ‘Dance of Glasses,’ which created a sensation among the decadent artists and writers. However, her success was more due to her beautiful body and its vivid gestures in suggesting certain erotic emotions, than to any real art. On the other hand, Isadora Duncan, Mme. Villiani and Desmond have attempted to arouse interest in the Egyptian dances by giving performances that they have claimed to be the genuine classic art of the Nile. According to them, all that a modern dancer needs in becoming Egyptian is to dress as the Egyptians did and produce poses, if possible, with the fewest possible garments, that are to be seen in the ancient fresco paintings, sculptures and hieroglyphs. Then again, the Russian ballet, touring in Europe, announced in its repertoire an Egyptian ballet Cleopatra, which was to be a revelation of unseen beauties of the lost ancient civilization. However, all efforts of the modern imagination are unable to lift the veil of the ages.

Though posterity can catch more accurate fragments in the degenerated dances of Almeiis, Hawasis and the few folk-dances of Young Egypt than in the artificial imitations of various choreographic modernists, as a whole we know but a microscopic part of the vanished age of the Pharaohs. The few scarce records that we possess of the Egyptian dancing speak eloquently of an art far superior to anything which our boasted civilization has yet reached.

CHAPTER III
DANCING IN INDIA

Lack of art sense among the Hindoos; dancing and the Brahmin religion; the Apsarazases, Bayaderes and Devadazis; Hindoo music and the dance; dancing in modern Indian; Fakir dances; philosophic symbolism of the Indian dance.

The civilization of ancient India was, with the exception of China, the only rival to that of Egypt. But it is remarkable that the Indian mind took a totally different direction from the Egyptian. The tendency towards spiritual expansion that manifested itself in Egypt and Greece became in India a tendency towards concentration. The Indian mind lacked the gift of observation and mathematical proportions, so essential in art, that was possessed by the subjects of the Pharaohs. For this reason we find a magnificent Indian philosophy and mystic science, but an undeveloped feeling for æsthetic values. With the exception of weird and bizarre architecture, that manifested itself most powerfully in the pagodas and temples, the Indian sculpture, painting, music and dancing are too primitive for our taste, as they probably were for that of the ancient Egyptians and Greeks.

In all the Indian constructive arts, in their temple decorations and frescoes, we find very few dancing figures, still fewer graceful reproductions of the human body. Their gods and goddesses look to us like monsters. The Indian Venera, to be seen in the Pagoda of Bangilore, looks like a caricature, as compared with the Greek Aphrodite. The Indian goddess of dancing, Ramble, who, according to the legend, was a courtesan of Indra, and gave birth to two daughters, Nandra (Luxury) and Bringa (Pleasure), lacks all the loftiness and charm which surrounded the dancing goddesses of Egypt and Greece. There is neither life nor grace in any of the Indian temple art. Even the smile of Indian gods is stupid and inexpressive. The lack of humor and joy mirrors itself best in the art of the Bayaderes, the celebrated dancers of India. Their gestures and movements are void of that exultant gaiety and optimism that predominates in dances of other nations. An air of gloom and pessimism emanates from all the Indian art.

There is no doubt that the peculiarities of Indian music have been obstacles to the development of the national dance. Although it is full of color and feeling, yet the division of their scale into so many more tone units than ours makes it extremely difficult for a dancer to catch the delicate nuances and lines and reproduce them in movement. A few dancing designs here and there give the impression that this art has not changed during the four thousand years of the nation’s existence. Since the whole Indian civilization is the same to-day that it was thousands of years ago, we are pretty safe in our assumption that the dances of the Bayaderes exhibited at Calcutta or Benares now were pretty nearly the same during the life of Buddha. The modern dances, like the old ones, show similarity in the fact that the Indian dancers stand nearly at one spot and hardly move their feet, while mimicking, and moving their body, arms, hands and fingers. The individual peculiarity of all Indian dances lies in the impressionistic poses of their hands and the body.

India deserves to be called the Land of a Thousand Religions. Religion to an Indian represents everything. Like wisdom and life, dance is of divine origin. From time immemorial dancing has been a part of Indian temple ceremonies. The Brahmin religion is interwoven with beautiful legends and myths, according to which dancing was the first blessing that Brahma gave to mankind. One of the legends tells us that the divine Tshamuda danced to music while standing on an egg and holding a huge turtle on her back. In such a position she is to-day giving performances to Brahma in the Nirvana. Such a magic Paradise, with plenty of dancing and music, lasting from early morning till late in evening, is promised after death to all faithful souls.

A widespread Indian legend is that which describes the magic dancing of the Apsarazases, or divine nymphs, with which the Indian imagination has populated every hill and brook. The only occupation of the Apsarazases is singing and aerial dancing. For this purpose these sacred nymphs are supplied with feathery wings which enable them to fly freely in the air. Dancers who reach the very climax of their art get magic wings like every Apsarazas and vanish alive from the earth. This legend laid the foundation of the Indian sacred dances, which were taught by the priests to young maidens kept specially for that purpose near the temples. While the European tourist calls all Indian dancers Bayaderes, regardless whether they give their performances on the streets or in the temples, an Indian calls the temple dancers Devadazis, or the ‘slaves of God.’ The common street or social dancer is called Nautch Girl. The Indian Devadazis are raised and educated much as are the Christian nuns. After being graduated from a dancing school, the girls are taken by the priests to the temples in which they give daily performances to the pilgrims and live as sacred courtesans with the clergy.

The main function of the Devadazis consists in giving performances, either singly or in groups, to the priests and the pilgrims. Some of their dances take place in front of the pagodas, others inside. The dancers always wear a long garment, covering their body and legs, leaving only the hands and arms bare. Rich people can hire these temple dancers to give performances in their homes, otherwise they never appear outside the temple atmosphere. To an Indian dancer the most important parts of her body are her breasts and fingers. Though she appears in dance barefoot, frequently with rings in her toes, she pays comparatively little attention to her feet. Many of the modern Bayaderes wear an elaborate costume of yellow with wide pantalettes and richly embroidered wraps around the shoulders, leaving arms and breasts bare.

The music accompanying the dances of the Indian Bayaderes is produced by an orchestra consisting of wood wind instruments similar to our flute and oboe, a few string instruments, two different drums and a few tambourines. The leader of the orchestra gives a sign by striking certain brass plates and the Bayaderes, lifting their veils, advance in front of the musicians and begin the dance. The dance, consisting usually only of mimic expressions of two dancers, has a strange melody and a stranger rhythm. Neither the music nor the dance can be compared with anything known in our Western art. Now and then the feet beat measure, otherwise there is little display of leg agility. The face, particularly the eyes, of the Indian dancers are very expressive. But the alphabet of the dance mimicry is so large that it requires a special study in order to understand and appreciate the fine movements of an artist.

All the Indian social ceremonies, such as marriage, birth and burial, are celebrated with dancing and music. This is particularly true of the social ceremonies of the rich. The standing of the dancers is high in India, so that even in the palace of the Rajah dancers are treated like the guests. In certain parts of India the Bayaderes have the right to live as guests at any house without paying. Prince Uchtomsky, who made a special study of Indian life and art, writes that in cities visited by the European tourists one rarely gets a glimpse of the real Bayaderes. According to him there are many Indian Bayadere dancers that surpass in their suggestive power our most passionate ballets. Every line of their miniature impressionism in dance has an exotic beauty which implies more than it expresses.

The Indian dancers are usually women, though Pierre Loti writes that he witnessed several dances performed by men. These dances, as described by him, tally closely with those which the writer saw frequently performed by various Mongolian tribes in South-Eastern Russia. But we are inclined to think that these, being wild in their character, could not be classified as dances of Indian origin.

To a certain class of Indian dancing belong the well-known fakir dances, performed by begging pilgrims at public gatherings. These represent the surviving fanaticism of an ancient sect. Their strange performances are to be seen everywhere in Northern India. Absolutely naked and with dishevelled hair, they moan, shriek and groan, jumping wildly up and down and shaking their hands convulsively. When the fanatical execution has reached its climax the fakirs stab themselves with knives or hot irons until they fall into a trance. It is a kind of Oriental ‘Death Dance.’ To an outsider it is unexplainable how they can endure such self-torture for any length of time. In most cases the knives that the fakirs use are so constructed that they do not go deep into the body but scratch only the skin and produce slight wounds. Though their bloody performances make a deep and shocking impression upon the onlookers, yet dances of this kind cannot be classified as an art.

The best dancers that India has ever produced are those who resembled brooding philosophers and prophetic priestesses rather than pleasing artists. The Indian conception of beauty lies in the spiritual and intellectual and but little in the physical and æsthetic forms. The main purpose of the great Indian ballerinas is to inspire their audiences to thought and meditation upon the great powers of nature and the mystic purposes of human life. Their art is exotic and introspective and lacks absolutely the element of purely beautiful inspiration, produced by the great Western dancers. Those of our Western students of art who make us believe that they can perform genuine Indian dances are grossly mistaken, simply because the real Indian dance is not an art and amusement, but the preaching of a certain philosophy. Our materialistic logic is unable to catch the subtle philosophic symbolism that appeals to an Indian mind. We are brought up to enjoy the positive and not the negative plane of life. For us beauty is joy, for the Hindus it is sorrow. An Indian dancer who can move her audience to tears with her dancing will fail to make the least impression upon our audiences.

CHAPTER IV
DANCES OF THE CHINESE, THE JAPANESE AND THE AMERICAN INDIANS

Influence of the Chinese moral teachings; general characteristics of Chinese dancing; court and social dances of ancient China; Yu-Vang’s ‘historical ballet’; modern Chinese dancing; dancing Mandarins; modern imitations; the Lantern Festival—Japan: the legend of Amaterasu; emotional variety of the Japanese dance; pantomime and mimicry; general characteristics and classification of Japanese dances—The American Indians: The Dream dance; the Ghost dance; the Snake dance.

I

In China the art of dancing was in full bloom for centuries before the Christian era. The great Chinese historians tell us that music and dancing were developed and stood in high esteem in China from the dynasty of Huang-Ta till the rule of They, which is a period of not less than 2450 years. Europe with its civilization did not yet exist when choreography was publicly taught in China. Like every other form of Chinese evolution, dancing thus fell into a state of spiritual torpidity. Forbearance, the foremost virtue of the Chinese race, that was preached by their ancient moralists, like Kon-Fu-Tse and others, stifled in the long run all the passionate emotions of the people and exerted a most detrimental influence upon the arts. Under such conditions the Chinese view of life grew materialistic and dry, the very opposite of the Indian. This peculiarity did not fail to make itself felt in Chinese dancing. The gradual killing of passionate emotions killed also the tendency to imagination in the race. The fantasy that populated the air and water, the mountains and forests of other nations with myths, legends, gods and goddesses, was transformed in China into the most realistic reasonings and mechanical dexterity. The industrial spirit of the great nation killed all romantic and poetic aspirations in art, religion and literature. The music of China is as syncopated and monotonous as her views of life. The only poetry that the Chinese possess is that which was written 4000 years ago.

You, which means in Chinese language ‘dance,’ lacks the principal forms of agility of our choreography. Pirouettes, jetés, cabrioles and pas’s are unknown terms to a Chinese ballerina. Their dancing, consisting of slow gestures of the arms, the shaking of head, bowing to the ceiling, and other similar manipulations, makes at the first glance an impression that suggests to our imagination the officiating of Greek priests. The power of a dancer lies in the atmosphere that she creates and the peculiar imitating poses of the body. Chinese dance music is correspondingly slow of rhythm and reminds us in many ways of our ultra-modern orchestral music. However, we read in the works of the Chinese classics that their art of dancing was much higher about two and three thousand years ago.

The ancient Chinese philosophers recommended dancing to strengthen the human body and mind. They emphasized the mimic expressions which all races of the world should learn as an unspoken and universal language. It is written that the great ruler Li-Kaong-Ti took dancing and music lessons from the great teacher of music, Teu-Kung, so that he was able to give entertainments in these arts to his family and guests. He founded a dancing academy at the court and invited learned Mandarins to take charge of the institution. Gradually dancing was introduced in all the colleges and public schools. All Chinese educated classes had to be good dancers at that time. The rulers used to dance to the public at great annual festivals to express their gratitude or dissatisfaction. The receptions of various Viceroys at the national capital were opened with dancing performed by the great functionaries and statesmen of the empire. People judged the characteristics of their newly appointed officials and judges from the individual peculiarities of their dance. The Chinese court kept regularly 64 sworn dancers, who were obliged to give historic ‘ballets’ to the rulers. The orchestra was composed of flutes, a drum, one or several tambourines with bells, and a queer instrument in the shape of the figure ‘2.’ About a thousand years before Christ an imperial decree was issued for the purpose of limiting the number of dancers that one or another of the statesmen could employ.

Eight different dances were performed at the Chinese court and eight dancers participated in each dance. The first dance was Ivi-Men—Moving Clouds; this was given in honor of the celestial spirits. The second dance was the Ta-knen—Great Circle; this was performed when the Emperor brought sacrifice at a round votive altar. The third dance was Ta-gien—General Motion; this was performed during the sacrificial festival at the square altar. The fourth dance was Ta-mao—Dance of Harmony; this was the most graceful dance and was dedicated to the Four Elements. The fifth dance was Gia—Beneficial Dance; this dance was dedicated to the spirits of the mountains and rivers, and was slow and majestic. The sixth dance was Ta-gu—Dance of Gratitude; this was dedicated to women. The seventh dance was Ta-u—Great War Dance; this was dedicated to the spirit of Man. The eighth dance was U-gientze—Dance of Waves; this was dedicated to the ancestors and was of elaborate form, containing nine different movements and nine different rhythms. These were all long ‘ballets’ and lasted for several hours each. But besides these there were six smaller dances. One of these was called the Dance of the Mystic Bird; another the Dance of Oxtail; another the Dance of the Flag; another the Dance of Feathers; another the Sword Dance; and the last the Dance of Humanity. This was performed only by the Mandarins.

The Chinese historians write that Confucius did not like the Sword Dance, but highly praised the others. Confucius describes the Emperor Yu-Vang, who lived 1100 years before Christ, as the author of many new dances and composer of music to accompany them. One of his dances was a great historical ballet, which must have resembled the Roman pantomimes. This ballet has been performed in a distorted form in the nineteenth century and is mentioned by several Russian writers who lived or travelled in China. Judging from the Chinese writers, the historical ballet must have been a spectacular performance in the style of the Oberammergau Passion Play. It opened with the creation of the world and sea and ended with the latest phase of national history. Some of the dancers represented fish, animals and birds; others, monsters, spirits, rulers and social classes. The music of this ballet was of peculiar symphonic form, very melodious and dramatic. Only fragmentary records of the ancient notation had been preserved in the imperial palace at Pekin, but during recent political disturbances even these vanished and the world has thus been deprived of one of the most valuable of musical documents.

In China the social and religious dancers were one and the same. The touring dancing companies to be seen to-day in China give a faint idea of the ancient choreography. Japanese dancing has made a deep impression upon the Chinese dancers, so that there is a marked element of mixture in the performances that one sees in the present Chinese towns. The Chinese dancers from olden times on have been men and women. It seems as if men predominated before, while now the feminine element is in majority. The Chinese dancing costumes are bizarre and picturesque. There are no barefoot dancers among them and their bodies are heavily covered with garments. Nude dancers are unknown in China.

An odd class of Chinese dancers are the dancing Mandarins. In Su-Chu-Fu there exists still an old school that was founded 2500 years ago for the purpose of teaching dancing to the Mandarins. They presumably learned with the idea of using the art in religious rituals. The style of their dancing differs slightly from that of the professional class. Dancing Mandarins can be seen now in China, but their cabalistic gestures and queer mimic expressions are unintelligible to the Western mind. There are no folk or national dances in China and the people do not dance in the same sense as we in our social dances. The idea of a social dance is a torture to an average Chinaman. He enjoys seeing dancing, but never takes part in it. The rich Chinese frequently hire professional dancers and let them give performances at their houses. The Chinese wedding dances are never performed by the bride, groom, or their guests, but by hired professional dancers or dancing Mandarins. The historians tell us that this was not so in remote antiquity. There was a time when the Chinese people danced, though their dances were mostly slow and pantomimic. The Russian ballet dancers, who have toured in China, have told that their performances filled the Chinese audiences with horror and disgust, as our Western acrobatic technique makes them afraid of possible neck-breaking accidents.

The attempts of Europeans to create Chinese ballets for our Western stage have been in so far miserable failures. ‘Kia-King’ by Titus, ‘Chinese Wedding’ by Calzevaro, and ‘Lily’ by San-Leon give no true impression of Chinese choreography of any age. Nor are their music or their scenarios similar to any genuine Chinese ballets of the above-named titles.

In our story of Chinese dancing it is worth while to mention the celebrated ‘Lantern Festival’ that is performed every New Year night. It is very likely that the Chinese had once long ago a lantern dance, which has degenerated now into a simple marching procession, in which the people participate in the same sense as the Italians do in their carnival. Confucius writes of it as of a festival in honor of the sun, the source of the light and life. This festival is celebrated three nights continually. Everything considered, we come to the conclusion that the art of dancing of the land of Mandarins has been of little influence and significance to our choreography. The reason for this lies partly in the racial morale, partly in a national psychology that breathes peace and externalism.

II

Of a quite different character are the dances of Japan, of which Marcella A. Hincks gives to us a comprehensive picture. According to her, dancing in Japan is an essential part of religion and national tradition. In one of the oldest Japanese legends we are told that the Sun Goddess Amaterasu, being angry, hid herself in a cave, so that the world was plunged in darkness and life on earth became intolerable. The eight million deities of the Japanese heaven, seeing the sorrow and destruction wrought by Amaterasu’s absence from the world, sought by every means possible to coax her from her retreat. But nothing could prevail on her to leave it, until one god, wiser than the others, devised a plan whereby the angered goddess might be lured from her hiding place. Among the immortals was the beautiful Ame-No-Azume, whom they sent to dance and sing at the mouth of the cave, and the goddess, attracted by the unusual sound of music and dancing, and unable to withstand her curiosity, emerged from the concealment, to gaze upon the dancer. So once more she gave the light of her smile to the world. The people never forgot that dancing had been the means of bringing back Amaterasu to Japan, therefore from time immemorial the dance has been honored as a religious ceremony and practiced as a fine art throughout the Land of the Rising Sun.

Dancing in Japan is not associated with pleasure and joyful feeling alone; every emotion, grave or gay, may become the subject of a dance. Some time ago funeral dances were performed around the corpse, which was placed in a building specially constructed for that purpose, and though it is said that originally the dancers hoped to recall the dead to life by the power and charm of their dance, later the measures were performed merely as a farewell ceremony.

The Japanese dance is of the greatest importance and interest historically. Like her civilization, and the greater number of her arts, Japan borrowed many of her dance ideas from China, though the genius of the people very soon developed many new forms of dance, quite distinct from the Chinese importation. From the earliest times dancing has been closely associated with religion: in both the Shinto and the Buddhist faiths we find it occupying foremost place in worship. The Buddhist priests of the thirteenth century made use of dancing as a refining influence, which helped to refine the uncultured military class by which Japan was more or less ruled during the early Middle Ages.

The Japanese dance, like that of the ancient Greeks, is predominantly of a pantomimic nature, and strives to represent in gesture a historic incident, some mythical legend, or a scene from folk-lore; its chief characteristic is always expressiveness, and it invariably possesses a strong emotional tendency. The Japanese have an extraordinary mimic gift which they have cultivated to such an extent that it is doubtful whether any other people has ever developed such a wide and expressive art of gesture. Dancing in the European sense the Japanese would call dengaku or acrobatic.

Like the tea ceremony, the Japanese dance is esoteric as well as exoteric, and to apprehend the meaning of every gesture is no easy task to the uninitiated. Thus to arch the hand over the eyes conveys that the dancer is weeping; to extend the arms while looking eagerly in the direction indicated by the hand suggests that the dancer is thinking of some one in a far-away country. The arms crossed at the chest mean meditation, etc. There is, for instance, a set of special gestures for the No dances, divided first of all into a certain number of fundamental gestures and poses, and then into numerous variations of these, and figures devised from them, much as the technique of the European ballet dancing consists of ‘fundamental positions’ and endless less important ‘positions.’

The conventional gestures, sleeve-waving and fan-waving movements, constitute the greatest difficulty in the way of an intelligent interpretation of the Japanese dance. The technique is also elaborate and the vocabulary of the dancing terms large, but the positions and the attitudes of the limbs are radically different from those of the European dance, the feet being little seen, and their action considered subordinate, though the stamping of the feet is important in some cases. The ease of movement, the smoothness and the legato effect of a Japanese dance can only be obtained by the most rigorous physical training. The Japanese strive to master the technique so thoroughly that every movement of the body is produced with perfect ease and spontaneity; their ideal is art hidden by its own perfection.

The dances of Japan may be grouped under three broad divisions of equal importance: Religious, classical, and popular. The last vestiges of a religious dance of great antiquity may still be seen at the half-yearly ceremonials of Confucius, when eight pairs of dancers in gorgeous robes, each holding a triple pheasant’s feather in one hand and a six-holed flute in the other, posture and dance as an accompaniment to the Confucian hymn. It is said that the Bugaku dance was introduced 2000 years ago.

The Japanese history of dancing begins from the eighth to twelfth centuries. The Bugaku and the Kagura, another ancient Japanese sacred dance, are considered the bases of all the other dances. The movements in both dances strive to express reverence, adoration and humility. The music of the old Japanese dances is solemn, weird and always in a minor key, and the instruments used are flutes and a drum. Stages were erected at all the principal Shinto temples and each temple had its staff of dancers. The Kagura dance can still be seen at the temple of Kasuga at Nara. Like the Chinese, the Japanese lack dances known to us as folk-dancing. In the art of dancing Japan far surpasses China, this being due to the more emotional and poetic character of the race. The dancing of Japan, like its other arts, is outspokenly impressionistic and symbolic. It is graceful and dainty and gives evidence of thorough refinement.

Dances of pungent racial tinge are those of the American Indians. The best known of the Indian pantomimes are the Ghost, Snake, and Dream Dances. Very little observed and recorded are their various war dances; still less their social dances. Stolid, impassive and stoic as is the man himself, so are his dances and other æsthetic expressions. Void of frivolous gaiety and passionate joy as an Indian remains in his life, so is his dance. His dance turns more about some mystic or religious idea than about a sexual one. There is that peculiar heavy and secretive trait in an Indian folk-dance that manifests itself so conspicuously in the dances of the Siberian Mongolians, as the Buriats, Kalmuks, and particularly the Finns. Though our space is limited, we shall here attempt to give an outline of the better known peculiarities of Indian folk-dances, particularly of the Dream Dance of the Chippewa tribe.

The Chippewas or Ojibways were, at the arrival of the whites, one of the largest of the tribes of North America. They originally occupied the region embracing both shores of Lake Superior and Lake Huron. We owe the description of the Dream Dance to S. A. Barrett, according to whose view it is based on the story of an Indian girl who escaped into the lake upon the arrival of the white men and hid herself among the lilies, thinking they would soon leave. She remained in the lake for ten days without food or sleep, until the Great Spirit from the clouds rescued her miraculously and carried her back to her people. In memory of this event the ceremony of the Dream Dance was instituted and is performed annually in the open air, about the first of July. A special dance ground, from fifty to eighty feet in diameter, was prepared and marked off by a circle of logs or by a low fence. This circle was provided with an opening toward the west and one toward the east.

The objects about which this whole ceremony centres are a large drum and a special calumet, the former elaborately decorated with strips of fur, beadwork, cloth, coins, etc. It is hung by means of loops upon four elaborately decorated stakes. Often they are provided with bells. To this the greatest reverence is paid throughout the dance, a special guard being kept for it. The calumet serves as a sacrificial altar, the function of which is the burning of sacred tobacco, in order that its incense may be carried to the particular deity in whose honor the offering is made. The drum is beaten by ten to fifteen drummers, each beating it with a stick two feet long, as an accompaniment to the song which serves as the dance tune. Each song lasts from five to ten minutes, and is repeated for several hours continually.

The drum-strokes are beaten in pairs, which gives the impression of difference in the interval of time between the two strokes of one pair and the initial stroke of the next. In this dance, which is always performed by a man of highest standing in the community, a dancer may go through the necessary motions with the feet without moving from the position in which he is standing, or he may dance one or more times around the circle. Frequently the dancers take at first a complete turn around the circle and come back to the vicinity of the original seats and dance here until the tune is finished. The movement is of a skipping step, from the east to the west. Perfect time is kept in the music no matter what movement may be employed by the dancer. Two motions up and down are first made with one heel and then two motions with the other, these being in perfect unison with the double strokes of the drum sticks. The position assumed in the dancing is perfectly erect, the weight of the body being rapidly shifted from one foot to the other, as the dancing proceeds. The foot is kept in a position which is nearly horizontal, the toe just touching the ground at each stroke of the drum. The dance begins at eleven o’clock in the morning and lasts until four in the afternoon. A special festival meal is served during the dance in the circle.

Of somewhat different nature is the Ghost Dance, which is performed in the unclosed area, the ground being consecrated by the priests before the beginning of the ceremony. The features of this are the sacred crow, certain feathers, arrows, and game sticks, and a large pole which is placed in the centre of the dancing area. About this the dancers circle in a more lively motion and with lighter steps than the dancers in the Dream Dance. In this there are no musical instruments used. The men, women and children take part in the Ghost Dance, their faces painted with symbolic designs. The participants form a circle, each person grasping the hand of his adjacent neighbor, and all moving sidewise with a dragging, shuffling step, in time to the songs which provide the music. The purpose of the Dream Dance is to communicate with the Great Spirit of Life. The Ghost Dance has for its object the communication of the participants with the spirits of the departed relatives and friends, this being accomplished by hypnotic trances induced through the agency of the medicine man.

The Snake Dance is a ceremony performed by the Indians of the southern states. This is of a ghastly nature, as the dancer holds two rattlesnakes in his mouth while executing his evolutions. Not only must the dancer be an artist who can manage the movement of his face so that the heads of the deadly snakes cannot touch his face or bare upper body, but he has to know the secret words that neutralize the poison of the snake, in case he should be bitten. This dance, like the two above named, is executed in a circle to the chant of special singers. Though the Indian uses musical instruments for his social ceremonies, such as the turtle-shell harp, wooden flute and whistles, he never applies their tunes to the dances that have a more serious or religious meaning. The Snake Dance, like the Dream Dance, is based on a legend, but the story of it is more involved, tragic and mystic, therefore its ghastly nature and weird symbolic gestures appear more vivid and direct than the themes of any other of the Indian folk-dances. But the steps and poses of every Indian dance are similar to each other, slow, compact, impassive and dignified. A strong mystic and symbolic feeling pervades the limited gestures and mimic expressions. Æsthetic ideas with the Indian are closely interwoven with those of ethics and religion. There is nothing graceful, amusing, delicate or charming in an Indian dance, therefore our dance authorities have ignored them.

CHAPTER V
DANCES OF HEBREWS AND ARABS

Biblical allusions; sacred dances; the Salome episode and its modern influence—The Arabs; Moorish florescence in the Middle Ages; characteristics of the Moorish dances; the dance in daily life; the harem, the Dance of Greeting; pictorial quality of the Arab dances.

I

That dancing was practiced in temples and homes of the ancient Hebrews is evident from numerous Biblical allusions, and is only natural when we consider that they were educated in Egypt, the cradle of dancing. Some scholars maintain that dancing was a part of Hebrew worship, pointing as a proof of their theory to David’s dancing before the Ark of the Covenant and the fact that Moses, after the crossing of the Red Sea, bade the children of Israel to dance. Others, basing their arguments on the Talmud, deny this. It is very likely that the dancing which the Hebrews had learned in Egypt soon degenerated into crude shows, due to their long nomadic desert life, far from civilization. Only now and then did some of their kings indulge in dancing and try to revive the vanishing art. David and Solomon introduced dancing at their courts and in the temple, as we can see in the Bible: ‘Praise the Lord—praise him with timbrel and dance.’ ‘Then shall the virgin rejoice in the dance.’ ‘Thou shalt be again adorned with thy tabrets, and shalt go forth in the dances,’ etc. On another occasion we read how the sons of Benjamin were taught to capture their wives. ‘If the daughters of Shiloh come out to dance in dances, then come ye out of the vineyards, and catch you every man his wife.—And the children of Benjamin did so, and took them wives, according to their number of them that danced, whom they caught.’

The Dance of the Golden Calf, which was plausibly an imitation of the Egyptian Apis Dance, was most severely forbidden by Moses. Since this dance was one of the principal ceremonial dances of Egypt, it is evident that it had rooted deep into the soul of the people and Moses had to resort to violent methods in order to abolish it entirely. We read in the Bible that to honor the slayer of Goliath, the women came out from all the cities of Israel and received him with singing and dancing. Other historic sources tell us that the ancient Hebrews frequently hired dancers and musicians for their social ceremonies. There are various Byzantine designs and inscriptions of the fifth and sixth centuries, in which King David is depicted as a ballet master, with a lyre in his hand, surrounded by dancing men and women. We read that when Solomon finished the New Temple in Jerusalem it was dedicated with singing and dancing. It is evident that the ancient Hebrew sacred dances were performed by men, while women figured exclusively in the social dancing. The Jews in Morocco employ professional dancers for the celebration of the marriage ceremony to-day.

The best known of the ancient Hebrew dances is that of the celebrated Salome. Thus we read in a chapter of St. Matthew of the beheading of John the Baptist: ‘But when Herod’s birthday was kept, the daughter of Herodias danced before them, and pleased Herod. Whereupon he promised with an oath to give her whatever she would ask.’ These short remarks of the New Testament describe a gruesome tragedy that has inspired hundreds of artists to amplify with their imagination what has been left unsaid in the Gospel. Moreau, Botticelli, Dolci, Reno and Stuck have produced immortal paintings of Salome. Some of them have depicted her as a stately society lady of her times, the others show her either frivolous, abnormal or under the spell of narcotics and wine. Many gruesome legends have risen about the death of Salome, according to which she committed suicide by drowning. But an accurate historic investigation has revealed that she was married to the Tetrarch Philip, after whose death she became the wife of Aristobul, the son of Herod, and died at the age of 54.

Be that as it may, the Salome episode is an eloquent proof that dancing was cultivated by the Hebrews and that their daughters were educated in this art either by Egyptian or Greek masters. Several other historic allusions show that Greek dancers went often to Jerusalem to give there performances during the national festivals. Plutarch writes that rich Hebrews came to the Olympic and Dionysian Festivals and were eager to learn Greek music and dancing. But evidently the Greek arts had the least influence upon the Hebrews, whose minds had been trained in the strict Mosaic code of morals to follow only the autocratic commandments of the Lord, and to leave all the arts of other races alone. Like the Confucian philosophy in China, the Mosaic ethics in Palestine put a stamp of æsthetic stagnation on Hebrew national life. For this very reason the Hebrews never developed a national art, particularly a national music or national dance.

The Salome of Richard Strauss has inspired many of our Western dancers to personify the ancient heroine. With the exception of Ida Rubinstein and Natasha Trouhanova, the Salome dances of all the European or American aspirants have been of no importance. There are characteristics to be seen in a few old inscriptions of dancing Hebrew priests which express most forcibly their peculiar nervous poses and quick gestures. European choreography has for the most part failed to grasp the principal features of the vanished Hebrew dances.

II

Of all living Oriental races the Arabs show the most innate instinct for dancing. Judging from the ruins of the architecture that the Moors have left in Spain we can see that they knew more than the mere elementary rules of æsthetic line and form, which is the very essential of a dance. The ruins of the majestic Alhambra speak a language that fills us with an awe. No architects of other races, either dead or living, have reached that harmony of line which is plainly visible in this structural masterpiece of humanity. Since, according to the views of all æsthetic psychologists, dancing and architecture develop as allied arts, the Moors must have developed a high degree of dancing in the Middle Ages, when the rest of the world was shaken by barbaric wars and ruled by ecclesiastic fanaticism. However, the Mohammedan religion prohibits painting and sculpture, therefore we find no frescoes or decorations in the walls of the Moorish castles or Mosques that could give an idea of the style and perfection of the dancing that was taught in Cadiz.

The Greek and Roman writers allude frequently to the fiery and passionate dances that were exhibited by the graduates of Cadiz, ‘which surpassed anything the people had seen before.’ We know that the Moors taught dancing to their boys and girls alike. Furthermore, we know that their dances differed distinctly from those of the Greeks and Egyptians. The dancing teachers at Cadiz emphasized agility of legs, softness and grace of the body and a vivid technique of imitation. Passion was the principal theme of their feminine dances, and was expressed with the technique of virtuosity. It is said that the Califs of Seville kept a staff of fifty trained dancers at their court.

The essential feature of Arabian dancing was the graphic production of pictorial episodes, in rich harmonious lines of the body, sensuous grace of the poses and sinuous elegance of movement. A special emphasis was placed upon the exhibition of the most perfect womanly beauty. To complete the task of architectural perfection an Arabic dancer was taught to study carefully the geometric laws of nature and eliminate the crudities acquired in everyday life. The principal musical instrument of the Moorish dancers was the African guitar, which was their national invention. Most of the great Arab dancers were women, who preferred to dance without a masculine partner. Ordinarily they danced to the music of two or three differently tuned guitars, and only on festival occasions or in appearances at court was the music supplied by an orchestra of ten or more. Already the Arabs had their musical notation, set in three colors: red, green, and blue. Fragments of their mediæval music notation were recently discovered by a French scholar and were successfully deciphered. It appears that many of the dance melodies still in use in Spain are of Moorish descent. The Kinneys,[A] who seemingly have made a study of Spanish and modern Arab dancing, write of it graphically, as follows:

[A] Troy and Margaret West Kinney: The Dance (New York, 1914).

‘Of formulated dances the Arab has few, and those no more set than are the words of our stories: the point must not be missed, but we may choose our own vocabulary. In terms of the dance, the Arab entertainer tells stories; in the case of known and popular stories she follows the accepted narrative, but improvises the movements and poses that express it, exactly as though they were spoken words instead of pantomime. Somewhat less freedom necessarily obtains in the narration of dance-poems than in the recital of trifling incidents; but within the necessary limits, originality is prized. In the mimetic vocabulary are certain phrases that are depended upon to convey their definite meanings. New word-equivalents, however, are always in order, if they can stand the searching test of eyes educated in beauty and minds trained to exact thinking.

‘Nearly unlimited as it is in scope, delightful as it unfailingly is to those who know it, Arabic dancing suits occasions of a variety of which the dances of Europe never dreamed. In the café it diverts and sometimes demoralizes. In his house the master watches the dancing of his slaves, dreaming under the narcotic spell of rhythm. On those rare occasions when the demands of diplomacy or business compel him to bring a guest into his house, the dancing of slaves is depended upon to entertain. His wives dance before him to please his eye, and to cajole him into conformity with their desires. Even the news of the day is danced, since the doctrines of Mohammed deprecate the printing of almost everything except the Koran. Reports of current events reach the male population in the market and the café. At home men talk little of outside affairs, and women do not get out except to visit others of their kind, as isolated from the world as themselves. But they get all the news that is likely to interest them, none the less; at least the happenings in the world of Mohammedanism.

‘As vendors of information of passing events, there are women that wander in pairs from city to city, from harem to harem, like bards of the early North. As women they are admitted to women’s apartments. There, while one rhythmically pantomimes deeds of war to the cloistered ones that never saw a soldier, or graphically imitates the punishment of a malefactor in the market place, her companion chants, with falsetto whines, a descriptive and rhythmic accompaniment. Thus is the harem protected against the risk of narrowness.

‘In the daily life of the harem, dancing is one of the favored pastimes. Women dance to amuse themselves and to entertain one another. In the dance, as in music and embroidery, there is endless interest, and a spirit of emulation usually friendly.

‘One of the comparatively formalized mimetic expressions is the “Dance of Greeting,” the function of which is to honor a guest when occasion brings him into the house. Let it be imagined that coffee and cigarettes have been served to two grave gentlemen; that one has expressed bewilderment at the magnificence of the establishment, and his opinion that too great honor has been done him in permitting him to enter it; that the host has duly made reply that his grandchildren will tell with pride of the day when the poor house was so honored that such a one set his foot within it. After which a sherbet, more coffee and cigarettes. When the time seems propitious, the host suggests to the guest that if in his great kindness he will look at her, he—the host—would like permission to order a slave to try to entertain with a dance.

‘The musicians squatting against the wall begin the wailing of the flute, the hypnotic throb of “darabukkeh.” She who is designed to dance the Greeting enters holding before her a long scarf that half conceals her; the expression on her face is surprise, as though honor had fallen to her beyond her merits or expectation. Upon reaching her place she extends her arms forward, then slowly moves them, and with them the scarf, to one side, until she is revealed. When a nod confirms the command to dance, she quickly drops the scarf to the floor, advances to a place before the guest and near him, and honors him with a slave’s salutation. Then arising she proceeds to her silent Greeting. * * *

‘The Arabian dance is not a dance of movement; it is a dance of pictures, to which movement is wholly subordinate. Each bar of the music accompanies a picture complete in itself. Within the measure of each bar the dancer has time for the movements leading from one picture to the next, and to hold the picture for the instant necessary to give emphasis. At whatever moment she may be stopped, therefore, she is within less than a moment’s pose so perfectly balanced that it appears as a natural termination of the dance. The Oriental’s general indifference to the forces of accumulation and climax are consistent with such a capricious ending. In his dance each phrase is complete in itself; it may be likened to one of those serial stories in our magazines, in which each installment of the story is self-sufficient.

‘To the Occidental unused to Oriental art, the absence of crescendo and climax, and the substituted iteration carried on endlessly, is uninteresting. Nevertheless, a few days of life among Oriental conditions suffice to throw many a scoffer into attunement with the Oriental art idea, which is to soothe, not to stimulate. Moorish ornament is an indefinitely repeated series of marvellously designed units, each complete in itself, yet inextricably interwoven with its neighbors. In music the beats continue unchanging through bar after bar, phrase after phrase. The rhythmic repetition of the tile-designs on the wall, the decorative repetition of the beats of music, produce a spell of dreamy visioning comparable only to the effect of some potent but harmless narcotic.’

From all modern observations and ancient records it is evident that the Arabs’ dances differed essentially from their Eastern neighbors. Spain undoubtedly is the only Occidental country that has preserved in its vivid national dances, Jotas, Boleros, Seguidillas and Fandangos, the mutilated and deformed elements of the vanished choreography of Cadiz. Though the Moor has left so few records of his highly cultivated art of dancing, yet his spectral shadow hangs over the race beyond the Pyrenees. Of all the living civilized nations the Spaniards, more than any others, are justly the very incarnation of the vanished magic Arabs in dance. A studious observer finds in Spanish dances all the hysteria, magic, seductiveness and softness that was practiced by mediæval Arab dancers. And then the costumes—most picturesque and romantic—that the Spanish women use in their dances are similar in their lines and colors to those that were worn by the Moorish girls who entertained with their magic dances a Cleopatra and a Cæsar.

CHAPTER VI
DANCING IN ANCIENT GREECE

Homeric testimony; importance of the dance in Greek life; Xenophon’s description; Greek religion and the dance; Terpsichore—Dancing of youths, educational value; Greek dance music; Hyporchema and Saltation; Gymnopœdia; the Pyrrhic dance; the Dipoda and the Babasis; the Emmeleia; the Cordax; the Hormos—Greek theatres; comparison of periods; the Eleusinian mysteries; the Dionysian mysteries; the Heteræ; technique.

I

Best known to us of all the ancient and exotic dances are those of the Greeks. In Greece dancing was an actual language, interpreting all sentiments and passions. Aristotle speaks of Saltators whose dances mirrored the manners, the passions and the actions of men. About three hundred years before the Augustan era dancing in Greece had reached an apotheosis that it has never reached in any other country in the history of ancient civilization. Accurate information about the ancient Greek dances is given not only in numerous fresco paintings, reliefs and sculptures, but in the works of Homer, Aristotle, Plato, Lucian, Aristophanes, Hesiod and many others.

That dancing was highly esteemed as an accomplishment for young ladies in the Heroic Age we may gather from the sixth book of the Odyssey, when gentle white-armed Nausicaa, the daughter of a king, is represented as leading her companions in the choral lay after they had washed their linen in the stream, and amused themselves awhile with a game of ball. Ulysses compliments her especially upon her choric skill, saying that if she should chance to be one of those mortals who dwell on earth her brother and venerable mother must be ever delighted when they behold her entering the dance. We read how Ulysses was entertained at the court of Alcinous, the father of the young lady who had befriended him, and whose dancing he had so greatly admired. The admiration of the wanderer was excited by the rapid and skillful movements of the dancers, who were not maidens only, but youths in the prime of life. Presently two of the most accomplished youths, Halius and Laodamus, were selected by Alcinous to exhibit their skill in a dance, during which one performer threw a ball high in the air while the other caught it between his feet before it reached the ground. From the further description it appears that this was a true dance and not a mere acrobatic performance, and that the purple ball was used by the participants simply as an accessory.

The twenty-third book of the same poem tells us that dancing among the guests at wedding festivals formed in these early times an essential part of the ceremonies. The wanderer, having been recognized by the faithful Penelope, tells his son, Telemachus, to let the divine bard who has the tuneful harp lead the sportive dance, so that anyone hearing it from without may say it is a marriage. Homer thought so highly of dancing that in the ‘Iliad’ he calls it ‘irreproachable.’ In describing various scenes which Vulcan wrought on the shield of Achilles, he associates dancing with hymeneal festivities. No Athenian festivals were ever celebrated without dancing. The design with which the gods used to adorn the shields of heroes represented the dance contrived by Dædalus for fair-haired Ariadne. In this dance youths with tunics and golden swords suspended from silver belts, and virgins clothed in fine linen robes and wearing beautiful garlands, danced together, holding each other by the wrists. They danced in a circle, bounding nimbly with skilled feet, as when a potter, sitting, shall make trial of a wheel fitted to his hands, whether it will run; and at other times they ran back to their places between one another.

Galen complained that ‘so much do they give themselves up to this pleasure, with such activity do they pursue it, that the necessary arts are neglected.’ The Greek festivals in which dancing was a feature were innumerable. The Pythian, Marathon, Olympic and all other great national games opened with and ended with dancing. The funeral feats of Androgeonia and Pollux, the festivals of Bacchus, Jupiter, Minerva, Diana, Apollo, and the Feasts of the Muses and of Naxos were celebrated predominantly with dancing ceremonies. According to Scaliger dancing played an important part in the Pythian games, representations which may be looked upon as the first utterances of the dramatic Muse, as they were divided into five acts, and were composed of poetic narrative with imitative music performed by choruses and dances. Lucian assures us that if dancing formed no part of the program in the Olympian games, it was because the Greeks thought no prizes could adequately reward it. Socrates danced with Aspasia and Aristides danced at a banquet given by Dionysius of Syracuse.

The Greeks danced always and everywhere. They danced in the temples, in the woods and in the fields. Every social or family event, birth, marriage and death, gave occasion for a dance. Cybele, the mother of the Immortals, taught dancing to the Corybantes upon Mount Ida and to the Curetes in the island of Crete. Apollo dictated choreographic laws through the mouths of his priestesses. Priapus, one of the Titans, taught the god of war how to dance before instructing him in strategics. The heroes followed the example of the gods. Theseus celebrated his victory over the Minotaur with dances. Castor and Pollux created the Caryatis, a nude dance performed by Spartan maids on the banks of the Eurotas.

It is written that Æschylus and Aristophanes danced in public in their own plays. Philip of Macedonia married a dancer by whom he had a son who succeeded Alexander. Nicomedes, King of Pithynia, was the son of a dancing girl. This art was so esteemed that great dancers and ballet masters were chosen to act as public men. The best Greek dancers came from the Arcadians. The main aim of the Greek dancers was to contrive the most perfect plastic lines in the various poses of the human body, and in this sculpture was their ideal. It is said that the divine sculpture of Greece was inspired by the high standard of national choreography.

Though we know little of the Greek dance music, yet occasional allusions inform us that it was instrumental and vocal. Thus Athenæus says: ‘The Hyporchematic Dance is that in which the chorus dances while singing.’ Xenophon writes in his sixth book of ‘Anabasis’ as follows: ‘After libations were made, and the guests had sung a pæan, there rose up first the Thracians, and danced in arms to the music of a flute, and jumped up very high with light jumps, and used their swords. And at last one of them strikes another, so that it seemed to everyone that the man was wounded; and he fell down in a very clever manner, and all the bystanders raised an outcry. And he who struck him, having stripped him of his arms, went out singing sitacles; and others of the Thracians carried out his antagonist as if he were dead, but in reality he was not hurt. After this some Ænianians and Magnesians rose up, who danced the dance called Carpæa, they, too, being in armor. And the fashion of the dance was like this: One man, having laid aside his arms, is sowing and driving a yoke of oxen, constantly looking around, as if he were afraid. Then comes up a robber; but the sower, as soon as he sees him, snatches up his arms, and fights in defence of his team in regular time to the music of the flute, and at last the robber, having bound the man, carries off the team; but sometimes the sower conquers the robber, and then, binding him alongside his oxen, he ties his hands behind him and drives him forward.’

Another ancient Greek dance is graphically described by Xenophon as it was given by Callias to entertain his guests, among whom was Socrates. The dance represented the marriage of Dionysos and Ariadne. ‘Ariadne, dressed like a bride, comes in and takes her place. Dionysos enters, dancing to the music. The spectators did all admire the young man’s carriage, and Ariadne herself is so affected with the sight that she may hardly sit. After a while Dionysos, beholding Ariadne, and, incensed with love, bowing to her knees, embraces and kisses her first, and kisses her with grace. She embraces him again, and kisses him with the like affection.’

The nature of the Greek religion was such that many of their sacred dances would, according to our conventions, be far more shocking than those which they performed socially. In the Homeric hymn to Apollo we read how the Ionians with their wives and children were accustomed to assemble in honor of the god, and delight him with their singing and dancing. The poet describes that dancing was at that time an art in which everybody could join, and that it was by no means cultivated only by professional artists. Though the Ionians contributed much to the development of the art of dancing, yet in later years these degenerated into voluptuous gesticulations and sensuous poses known by the Romans as ‘Ionic Movements.’ In another part of the same poem Homer depicts ‘the fair-haired Graces, the wise Hours and Harmony, and Hebe and Venus, the daughter of Jove, dance, holding each other by the wrists. Apollo strikes the harp, taking grand and lofty steps, and a shining haze surrounds him, and the light glitters on his feet and on his well-fitted tunic.’ Pan, who was considered by the Greeks as well as by the Egyptians one of the greater gods, is represented by Homer as going hither and thither in the midst of the dancers moving rapidly with his feet. However, his dancing must have been singularly devoid of grace, as most of the designs known to us depict him as a patron of shepherds in Arcadia, gay and old-fashioned. All other gods and goddesses of the first order were supposed to be accomplished artists in dancing. The recently found bronze vase in a Phœnician sarcophagus, on the island of Crete, contains designs of unusually soft forms of naked dancing girls following Apollo. This best illustration of the Apollo ceremony goes to show that the Phœnicians had learned dancing from the Greeks and imitated them successfully.

As thorough as were all the Greek gods and goddesses in their knowledge and talent of dancing, yet they were far surpassed by Terpsichore, the real goddess of dancing and one of the nine Muses who always surrounded Apollo. Most of the recovered Greek drawings and sculptures represent Terpsichore either sitting or standing, but always with a lyre in her hand. The invention of the lyre was attributed to her. A painting, discovered in the excavated city, Herculaneum, represents her standing with the lyre in her uplifted hand. Another smaller drawing describes her with a wreath on her head while executing a graceful dance with other Muses. Various mediæval artists represented in their works Terpsichore dancing with a flower in her hand and an ethereal veil floating around her head. One of the Greek legends tells us that she was the mother of the singing Sirens.

II

All records indicate that dances in Greece were performed by men and women alike. In some of these dances they wore a loose garment, keeping their arms and legs bare; in others they danced perfectly naked. Some dances were performed by girls alone and others by boys, but often they mingled freely. The Greek customs generally permitted the freest intercourse between young people of both sexes, who were specially brought into contact at the great religious festivals and choruses. It seems that the youths who had distinguished themselves at the public dances expected no other reward than smiles of appreciation from the girls present, and dreaded nothing so much as their indifference. The constant practice of dancing by youths of both sexes from their earliest years was meant to impart to them precision of movement, suppleness of body, pliant and firm action of limbs, celerity of motion and all those physical qualities that would be advantageous in warfare and elevating or ennobling in everyday life. Plato praises the quickness of the body as the most reliable medium of warfare. The Greeks developed such beautiful bodies that they disliked to hide their plastic lines with any garments, therefore they preferred to appear naked, and more so in the temples and theaters than in their homes or in society. The fact that all the Greek sculpture is nude can be attributed, not to any abstract art ideals, but to the actual custom of the time.

The first form of the Greek dance music was vocal, sung by a chorus; in later times they began to use as accompaniment to singing certain chrotals, or castañets. During the Homeric era, the lyre was used predominately. In later centuries the flute (aulos) was introduced. The vocal music was produced by soloists and by male or mixed choruses. Frequently the dancers themselves sang or played the music and danced at the same time. However, the dancers of the fourth century never furnished their own music. According to the three principal divisions of the Greek mythology (the cult of Earth and Heaven, the cult of Chronos, Titans and Cyclops, and the cult of Zeus and the 12 Olympic divinities) the sacred dances of Greece can be divided into similar groups. All the Greek deities, even Zeus, were considered accomplished dancers. Since they enjoyed dancing themselves it was only natural that they should like to see dancing included as part of their worship. Cupid, the naughty little god of love, is depicted in most cases dancing. The fourth century figurine of a Bacchante in thin and supple draperies, whirling around on one foot, looks very much like a ballet dancer of to-day.

The oldest of the Greek dances was probably the Hyporchema, which was accompanied by the chorus. Though developed in different styles, it always kept a religious character and was looked upon as the first Greek attempts at saltation, in which, as the name betrays, song and dance were intermingled. The earliest use made of saltation was in connection with poetry. Athenæus says, however, that the early poets had resource to the figures of saltation only as symbols of images and ideas depicted in their verse. All dances of the Hyporchema class were dignified and elevated, men and women alike taking part in them. Some attribute their origin to the Delians, who sang them around the altars of Apollo. Others ascribe their invention to the Cretans, taught by Thales.

Of later descent, but more practiced than the Hyporchema, were the Gymnopædia, favored especially by the Lacedæmonians in their festivals of Apollo. This was considered one of the most noble and praiseworthy of the ancient dances. At the festivals the Gymnopædias were at first performed by large choruses of men and boys, but later the maidens were permitted to join them also. Then the men and women danced in separate choirs. The choragus, or leader, was crowned with palm leaves, and it was his privilege to defray the expenses of the chorus. All who took part in this had to be well-trained dancers, as it was the custom in Sparta that all children should commence to receive choreographic instruction from the age of five. Max Müller says, though this dance was performed perfectly nude, it enjoyed a high reputation. Müller is of opinion that music was generally cultivated by the Dorians and Arcadians owing to the circumstance that ‘women took part in it, and sang and danced in public, both with men and by themselves.’ Music and dancing were taught to the females at the Laconian capital, while housekeeping was regarded as a degrading occupation.

One of the public dances most favored by the Lacedæmonians was the Pyrrhic Dance. Lucian attributes its invention to Neoptolemus, the son of Achilles, who so much excelled in this that he enriched it with a fine new species, which from his surname Pyrrhicus received its title. The influence of this dance must have extended to the remotest and most barbarous nations, for not only the Romans but the Mongolians practiced it. That it underwent considerable modification in later times is evident from what Athenæus says: ‘The Pyrrhic Dance as it exists in our own time appears to be a sort of Bacchic dance, and a little more pacific than the old one; for the dancers carry thyrsi instead of spears, and they point and dart canes at one another, and carry torches. And they dance figures having reference to Bacchus and the Indians, and to the story of Pentheus; and they require for the Pyrrhic Dance the most beautiful airs.’

The Pyrrhic Dance in its early stage was a kind of war dance, as the performers employed every type of arms. The figures of the dance represented a kind of mimic battle, and the movements of the dancers were generally light, rapid, and eminently characteristic. There were figures representing the pursuit or retreat of an enemy; then again there were movements and positions of the body by which spear thrusts, darts, and wounds generally could be avoided. Other kind of movements suggested aggressive actions, striking with the sword or using the arrow. All these movements were performed in the most accurate rhythm to the music of flutes.

The number of the ancient Greek dances is so large that we can count on this occasion only those which are already known more or less through classic literature. Wide popularity was enjoyed by the Lysistrata, Dipoda, Bibasis, Hymnea, and the stage dances, Cordax, Emmeleia, Hormos, Endymatia and the celebrated religious Mysteries of Aphrodite, Apollo, Demetrius, Dionysius, etc.

Most of those elegant female dancers whom we find represented on ancient bas-reliefs, with their heads crowned, reeds in their hands raised above them, are executing the Dipoda, which Aristophanes has used as the climax in his celebrated comedy Lysistrata. This is what the author himself writes of the dance: ‘Come here to celebrate Sparta, where there are choruses in honor of the gods and the noise of dancing, where, like young horses, the maidens on the banks of the Eurotas rapidly move their feet, and their dresses are agitated like those of bacchanals, brandishing the thyrsus and sporting, and the chaste daughter of Leda, the lovely leader of the chorus, directs them. Now come, bind up your hair, and leap like fawns; now strike the measured tune which cheers the chorus.’ It is said that the simple, flowing chitons which they wore as garments flowed freely with the movements of their limbs, or fell in naturally graceful lines appropriate to the poses they assumed.

A dance of wonderful agility was that of the Bibasis. According to Max Müller, a Laconian maiden danced the Bibasis a thousand times more than any other girl had done. The peculiarity of this dance was to spring upward from the ground and perform a cabriole en arrière, striking the feet together behind before alighting. The cabriole is executed by the modern dancers with both feet in the air; and both legs act in the beating movement, rapidly separating and closing. To this a leap, called jetté, in the modern terminology, was probably added. The upward spring was made first from one foot and then from the other and striking the heels behind. The number of the successful strokes was counted, and the most skillful performer received the prize. It is said that Æschylus and Sophocles improved considerably the Bibasis Dance, musically and choreographically, for both authors were accomplished musicians and dance authorities.

The Emmeleia was one of the most respected and popular dramatic dances of the Greek stage. Plato speaks of it as a dance of extraordinary gentleness, gravity and nobility, appropriate to the highest sentiments. It possessed extraordinary mobility and dramatic vigor, and yet was graceful, majestic and impressive. This dance, as it was produced on the Athenian stage, is said to have been so terribly realistic that many of the spectators rushed shocked from the theatre, imagining that they really beheld the incarnated sisters of sorrow whose very names they did not dare to mention. These awful ministers of divine vengeance, who were supposed to punish the guilty both on earth and in the infernal regions, appeared in black and blood-stained garments. Their aspect was frightful and their poses emanated an air of death. On their heads they carried wreathed serpents, while in their hands were wriggling scorpions and a burning torch.

The music used for the Emmeleia was supplied by an ‘orchestra’[B] and chorus. Both the musicians and the singers were divided into two groups, one of which was to the right, the other to the left of the dancers. This gives an idea of the so-called ‘strophic’ principle. There are allusions to the fact that the Egyptians used music to the Astral Dances in this form. Though we do not know the character of the Greek dance music, particularly of the Emmeleia, yet fragmentary allusions here and there give an idea that they were mostly in a minor key and of very changeable measure. Kirchoff, who made a special study of this dance, came to the theoretic conclusion that this was predominantly recitative and resembled partly the later operas of Wagner—of course, only melodically—and partly the Finnish Rune tunes. As there was much action that could not be danced, the Emmeleia required a perfect mimic technique and thorough knowledge of ‘eurhythmic’ rules. A few of the old Greek writers speak of dance music as dignified and stately, which attributed seriousness or sorrow to the grave steps, gracefulness and modesty to the gay and joyful poses.

[B] As to the significance of this word, see Vol. I, pp. [120ff].

Of a very opposite character was the Cordax Dance. According to most accounts it lacked in respectability and some writers speak of it as an ‘indecorous dance.’ Lucian says it was considered a shame to dance it when sober. In some parts of Greece it took a comic character and was often marred by buffoonery. According to Burette, people had recourse to this dance when excited by wine. Cordax was a Satyr who gave his name to it. Since it was frivolous and comic, it was performed only by less reputable female dancers. It is said that in its first phase the Cordax was an extremely comic dance and the people enjoyed its refreshing humor and burlesque style. Like the Spanish Zarzuelas, the Cordax dances were small local comic pantomimes. In it the dancers ridiculed public men whom no one dared to criticize otherwise. Like every other stage art of this kind the Cordax dances grew indecent and were later abolished.

A dance of distinctly sexual nature was the Hormos, which was dedicated to Artemis. Lucian tells us that the Hormos was commenced by a youth, absolutely unclad, and started with steps in military nature, such as he was afterwards to practice in the field. Then followed a maiden, who, leading up her companions, danced in a gentle and graceful manner. Finally, ‘the whole formed a chain of masculine vigor and feminine modesty entwined together.’ Sometimes the dance went in a circle, sometimes in pairs of a maiden and a youth. Sometimes passionate and sensuous gestures were made by both sexes, though only for a moment, and the dance ended with a floating, graceful adagio. It was an allegorical playlet in dance of human passions and their control. The music for the youths was twice as rapid as that for the maidens.

Lucian writes that at some of the festivals three great choruses were formed for the dancers: of boys, of young men, and of old men. The old men danced, singing of their life of valor and wisdom. The chorus of the young men took up the theme and answered that they could accomplish deeds greater than any that had been achieved. The boys finished the song boasting that they would surpass both in deeds of glory. The choragos, who acted at the same time as a conductor and ballet-master, was regarded a man of the highest standing.

III

The Greek theatres, in which the dances and dramas were performed regularly, were of vast dimensions. The Theatre of Dionysius at Athens, being built in the shape of a horseshoe, could accommodate an audience of 30,000 spectators. A deep and wide stage was constructed for the dramatic performances. The theatre was not merely, as with us, a place of entertainment, but also a temple of the god whose altar was the central part of the semicircle of seats, where the worshippers sat, during the festival days, from sunrise to sunset. The stage decorations were of three sorts: for tragedies, the front of a palace, with five doors; for comedy, a street with houses; for satire, rocks and trees. There were no accessories of any kind on the stage. Instead of a roof there was the blue sky. The front part of the stage was used for the chorus, instruments and dancing. Lucian mentions how even the Bacchanalian dance was treated so seriously on the stage that the people would sit whole days in the theatre to view the Titans and Corybantes, Satyrs and shepherds. ‘The most curious part of it is,’ he writes, ‘that the noblest and greatest personages in every city are the dancers, and so little are they ashamed of it that they applaud themselves more upon their dexterity in that species of talent than on their nobility, their posts of honor, or the dignities of their forefathers.’

How learned the public dancers were in Greece is best illustrated by a dialogue that occurred between Lucian and Croton. In this one of the speakers maintains that any person desiring to become a public dancer should know by heart Homer and Hesiod, should know the national mythology and legends, should be acquainted with the history of Egypt, should have a good voice and know how to sing well, and should be a man of high personal character. A dancer should be neither too tall or too short, too thin or too fat. If a dancer ever failed in his efforts to please the audience he ran the risk of being pelted with stones. The Greek audiences were accustomed to express their disapprobation in a very decided manner.

It is interesting to compare the Greek dancing figures of various periods, which actually give an idea of the development of their choreography, and also of the change which took place in their costumes and styles. In the first half of the sixth century the Ionic style prevailed in garments. The feminine body was heavily draped. Later, until the Persian War, a costume of a chiton, with wide sleeves and sharply cut was in fashion. This century is rich in reproductions of dancing figures, which have a tendency to keep one another’s hands and strive to be decorative. The fifth century figures give an impression of poised grace and plastic perfection of the body. The fourth century figures show dancers with great individuality and perfection in the use of the arms. Numerous bas-reliefs of this era represent women dancing with veils which give to them a peculiar magic of motion. Like all the Orientals, the Greek women used to wear veils while outside of their homes. The veil was a natural medium of decoration and a symbol for the pantomime of the dance. Frequently the dancing garments of this era are so slight that they add only a mystifying charm to the apparently nude dancers. The poses of their limbs and arms give evidence of rhythm and technique. The mimic expressions play seemingly a foremost rôle, as their smiling faces and bashful looks betray the power of their fascination. They show expert skill in the use of the veils, with which they now seemingly cover their bodies, opening them again to give a glimpse of their great beauty. The exquisitely artistic statuettes found at Tanagra give some idea of the beauty of motion as practised by young women dancers, when, in the marvellous setting of the antique theatres, under the blue skies of Greece, they gave performances to audiences with whom the love of beauty was a passion.

At some of the religious ceremonial dances only boys and girls appeared, at others young men or girls, or both together, danced. Of a rather voluptuous nature were the dances performed in the temples of Aphrodite and Dionysos. Of special importance were the dances connected with the Eleusinian Mysteries, always celebrated in Athens. Their performance and the form of their construction were surrounded with greatest secrecy. Plato, who was initiated into them, spoke very highly of their meaning. It is evident that their real influence upon the people began in the sixth century. In the beginning the Mysteries were performed once every five years. Later they became annual performances. According to Desrat, they had much in common with the Rondes of the Middle Ages. The procession of the Mysteries proceeded from the temple of Demetrius, in Attica, and passed along a wooded road to Athens. A special resting place was the Fountain of Magic Dances, where the girls performed dances of unusual poetic grace. Late in the evening the procession entered the temple with a dance of torches. Here, on a stage specially erected for this purpose, were performed the dances of the Mysteries. Very little is known of the character of these dances. It is likely that they were dramatized legends of Demetrius, who was depicted as a pilgrim, wandering from place to place, in search of his lost daughter. Another phase of the Mysteries was to produce in symbolic gestures and poses and by proper staging, episodes of the life beyond. The performance began in twilight, the first scene being the pantomime in Hell, whither the soul of Demetrius was carried by infernal powers. It represented the utmost horror. During all the performance no word was spoken. After the scene in Hell came another in Heaven. The most impressive of all the dances was the ‘Leap with Torches,’ in which only the women appeared. It was said to be the most fantastic and acrobatic of all the Greek religious dances. Plutarch says that the impression was that of spectral ghosts playing perpetually with flames. It was meant to act as a purgatory fire that cleansed all the souls from their wickedness. The Mysteries ended in the night of the fourth day with a Dance of Baskets, in which the women appeared with covered baskets on their heads in a solemn march rhythm and vanished into the darkening temple. The Eleusinian Mysteries were abolished by an imperial decree in 381 A. D.

Not less popular than the Eleusinian were the Dionysian Mysteries. It is said that these developed as the festival of the first-fruits, but were later dedicated to the god Dionysos, the patron of wine and pleasure. To him is ascribed the invention of enthusiasm and ecstasy, the essential element of all beauty. The symbol of all the Dionysian dances was the goat, which also figured in the Mysteries. It was one of the most sensuous performances that imagination could invent. In it men and women took part, but men wore usually women’s dresses and the women men’s. In the centre of the dancers, before the statue of Dionysos, stood a huge cup filled with wine. The ceremony lasted three days and was performed in every town and hamlet of the country. According to the Greek mythology, Dionysos is represented in a group of dancing women and men. As Satyrs were supposed to be daily companions of Dionysos, the Satyr Dance was a feature of the Mysteries. Of one of the Dionysian dances we read in ‘Daphnis and Chloë’: ‘Meanwhile Dryas danced a vintage dance, making believe to gather grapes, to carry them in baskets, to tread them down in the vat, to pour the juice into tubs, and then to drink the new wine: all of which he did so naturally and so featly that they deemed they saw before their eyes the vines, the vats, the tubs, and Dryas drinking in good health.’

Greek and Roman Dances as Depicted on Ancient Vases

Other features of the Dionysian Mysteries were the Dances of Nymphs, the Dances of the Knees, and the Skoliasmos, in the nature of gymnastics, in which the performers hopped on inflated wine-skins, rubbed over with oil to make them slippery. The ancient writers describe these dances as lascivious and comic. In the Satyr Dance the dancers wore goat-skins and appeared as Satyrs. Several of these dances consisted of graceful and more modest movements, measured to the sound of flutes. Some of them were accompanied by light songs, daring sarcasm, and licentiously suggestive poems. Dances in which animals were imitated were numerous. There was a Crane Dance, supposed to be invented by Theseus, and Owl, Vulture, and Fox Dances.

The Mysteries of Demetrius took a more centralized form than the Mysteries of Dionysos. Each town had its individual secrets of romantic mysteries. In Athens the cult of love turned very much around the legend of Mænads, which, like little devils, shadowed the people day and night. In the Museum of Naples can be seen a vase with dancing Mænads, which represents best the ancient spirits of love. Plato says that the Mænad Dance consisted principally of the embracing and caressing of men and women.

Reinach believes that all Greek mythology, art and science grew out of the Greek folk-songs and folk-dances. According to him, the rhythm and melody of dance music changed in strict correspondence with the theme. All the sacred dances dedicated to Demetrius and Apollo, or to Aphrodite, were in legato form, graceful, melodious and full of color; on the other hand, those dedicated to Bacchus and Dionysos were of quicker tempo, syncopated style and less melodious. Reinach succeeded in deciphering the words and music of an ancient Greek dance song that was discovered in the ruins of the temple of Delphi. This was presumably danced at the Delphic festivals and is dedicated to Apollo. Since the cult of Apollo was widespread in Greece there were not a few dances dedicated and performed to this god. We are told that palm-leaves were given as prizes for the best of the Apollo dancers.

Besides the artists who appeared either in sacred or classic dances, there existed in Greece a class of professional dancers called Heteræ. These were women of flirting and coquettish type. In our sense, they must have been a kind of Varieté or professional social dancers. During the time of Pericles there were 500 Heteræ in Athens. Thus Sappho, Aspasia and Cleonica were trained to be Heteræ dancers. At one time in Greek history the Heteræ became a danger to the family. Aspasia was the mistress of Pericles until she became his wife. Being well educated, the Heteræ were women of attractive type and most of the great Greek thinkers, artists or statesmen felt the spell of their charm. Sappho called her house the ‘home of the Muses,’ where plastic beauty rivalled with poetry and music. The tragedy of Sappho has inspired many writers, ancient and modern, to immortalize her in their works, particularly the story according to which she sang and flung herself down into the sea. Performed by great celebrities the dances of the Heteræ were by no means vulgar, but lyric and suggestively sensuous. They were performed with garments or without, with floating veils and to the music of a flute. The dancers of this class used to give performances at their homes or in specially established gardens. All the Hetera dances were dedicated to Aphrodite and the ambition of the performers was to imitate the lovely poses of the celebrated goddess. According to most descriptions they resembled our past century’s minuets, gavottes and pavanes.

Emmanuel, who has written an interesting work on the Greek choreography, maintains that the accuracy of rhythm was of foremost importance. A choreographic time-marker was attached to sandals that produced sounds modified to the changing sentiments of the action. A little tambourine or cymbals were occasionally employed. A special branch of dance instruction was the Chironomia, or the art of using the hands. Greek dancing was by no means predominantly gesturing with hands, as some people think, but it was the harmonious use of every limb of the human body, in connection with the corresponding art of pantomime. There were numerous dancing schools in Greece, and each of them had its particular method of instruction. The first exercise in a school was the learning of flexibility of the body, which lasted a few years. A special school dance was the Esclatism, which was chiefly a rhythmic gymnastic, on the order of Jaques-Dalcroze’s method at Hellerau. We know comparatively little of the details of the ancient technical mechanism of choreography. Unfortunately all the ancient dancing figures represent merely one moment of a dance, therefore it is extremely difficult to grasp the principal points of the vanished art.

CHAPTER VII
DANCING IN THE ROMAN EMPIRE

Æsthetic subservience to Greece; Pylades and Bathyllus; the Bellicrepa saltatio; the Ludiones; the Roman pantomime; the Lupercalia and Floralia; Bacchantic orgies; the Augustinian age; importations from Cadiz; famous dancers.

As with all their arts, the ancient Romans borrowed their dancing from the Greeks. A nation raised in adoration of military and aristocratic ideals, conceited, and with a strong tendency to materialism and formalities, the Romans contributed little to choreography. Their civilization was imitative rather than creative. Their art is void of ethnographic characteristics and a kind of artificial stiffness breathes from their best achievements. The only conspicuous contribution of the Roman dancers to the evolution of dance lies in their unique dramatic and ecclesiastic pantomimes and their celebrated masque dances. But it seems surprising that dancing was far more highly developed and esteemed in the earlier period of Roman history than in those days of luxury and vice which preceded the downfall of the empire. Under the republic, dancing was considered one of the foremost factors in education, and the children of patricians and statesmen were obliged to take lessons in Greek dancing. But of the social views of later centuries we read from Quintilian that ‘it disgraced the dignity of a man,’ or as Cicero said, ‘No sober man dances, unless he is mad.’ Horace rebukes the Romans for dancing as for an infamy. Various other Roman writers tell us how much the women of standing were criticized for their lack of virtue if they entertained a dancer at their house or shook hands with him.

On the other hand, we have an eloquent proof of the Roman frenzy for the stage dance in the exciting intrigues of Pylades and Bathyllus, which set the whole Republic in a ferment. De Jaulnaye, the great historian, writes that the rivalries of Pylades and Bathyllus occupied the Romans as much as the gravest affairs of state. Every citizen was a Bathyllian or a Pyladian. Glancing over the history of the disturbances created by these two mummers, we seem to be reading that of the volatile nation whose quarrels about music were so prolonged, so obstinate, and, above all, so senseless that no one knew what were the real points of dispute, when the philosopher of Geneva wrote the famous letter to which no serious reply was ever made. Augustus (the Emperor) reproved Pylades on one occasion for his perpetual quarrels with Bathyllus. ‘Cæsar,’ replied the dancer, ‘it is well for you that the people are engrossed by our disputes; their attention is thus diverted from your actions!’ While Pylades is described as a great tragic actor and dancer, Bathyllus is represented as having been endowed not only with extraordinary talent, but also with great personal beauty, and is said as having been the idol of the Roman ladies. It is said that the banishment of Pylades from Rome almost brought about a serious revolution, that was prevented by the recall of the imperial decree.

One of the most interesting ancient dances practised by the Romans was Bellicrepa saltatio, a military dance, instituted by Romulus after the seizure of the Sabine women, in order that a similar misfortune might never befall his own country. To Numa Pompilius, the gentle Sabine, who became king after the mysterious disappearance of Romulus, is ascribed the origin of Roman religious dances. Especially celebrated were the dancing priests of Mars, and the order of Salien priests, numbering twelve, who were selected from citizens of first rank. Their mission was to worship the gods by dances. As a sign of special distinction they wore in their ceremonials richly embroidered purple tunics, brazen breastplates and their heads covered with gilded helmets. In one hand they held a javelin, while the other carried the celestial shield called the ancilia. They beat the time with their swords upon this ancilia, and marched through the city singing hymns to the time of their solemn dancing.

According to Livy, pantomimes were invented to please the gods and to distract the people, horrified by the plague that created havoc in the sacred city of Rome. The Ludiones, the celebrated Roman bards, are said to have performed their dances first before the houses of the rich to the music of the flute, but later appeared in the circuses and in special show tents. Their example found followers among the Roman youth. All the Roman dancers gave performances masqued, and it was the custom that in the sacred, as well as in the great dramatic pantomimes women were excluded, though during the later period of the Empire, particularly during the reign of Nero, women dancers appeared.

The best known of the ancient Roman pantomimes were those performed at the festival of Pallas, of Pan and of Dionysus or Bacchus. Juvenal writes that Bathyllus, having composed a pantomime on the subject of Jupiter, performed it with such realism that the Roman women were profoundly moved. The same is said of the dances invented and performed by Pylades, some of which were later given by the priests of Apollo. The art of Roman pantomime developed gradually to classic standards and ranged over the whole domain of mythology, poetry and drama. Dancers, called Mimii, like Bathyllus and Pylades, translated the most subtle emotions by gestures and poses of extreme graphic power so that their audiences understood every meaning of their mute language. This plastic form of mute drama made the dancing of the Romans a great art. The Emperor Augustus is said to have been a great admirer of Bathyllus, and so also was Nero. It is said that an African ruler, while the guest of Nero, was so impressed by the dancer that he said to Nero that he would like to have such an artist for his court. ‘And what would you do with him?’ asked the Emperor. ‘I have around me,’ said the other, ‘several neighboring tribes who speak different languages, and as they are unable to understand mine, I thought, if I had this man with me, it would be quite possible for him to explain by gesture all that I wished to express.’

Very unusual was the Roman festival of Pan, or the Lupercalia, at which half-naked youths danced about the streets with whips in their hands, lashing freely everyone whom they chanced to meet. The Roman women liked to be lashed on this occasion, as they believed it would keep them young. Another kind of Pan festival was celebrated by the peasants in the spring at which the young men and maidens joined in the dances, which took place in the woods or on the fields. They wore garlands of flowers and wreaths of oak on their heads. Similar dances, only more solemn and magnificent, were performed at the festival of Pallas by shepherds. Dancing and singing around blazing bonfires in a circle they worshipped the goddess of fruitfulness. Frequently the officiators were disreputable women who appeared dressed in long white robes, symbolic of chastity. Then there were the great Floralia or May Day festivals which in the beginning were of sufficiently decent manner but eventually degenerated into scenes of unbounded licentiousness. Still wilder than these were the orgies of Bacchus, which contributed greatly to the demoralization of the people until the consuls Albinus and Philippus banished them from Rome by a decree of the Senate.

On account of their sensuous character the Romans were unable to keep their art of dancing in such poetic and yet simple æsthetic frames as did the Greeks, for which reason all the Roman women characters in a pantomime were disguised young men. They lacked the ability of self-control in the stage art which in Greece had reached a standard of classic perfection. It is sufficient to say that they must have been wicked enough when a ruler like Tiberius commanded the dancers to be expelled from Rome. But Tacitus relates that, while publicly Tiberius reprimanded Sestius Gallus for the elaborate balls given at his house, privately he made arrangements to be his guest on the condition that he should himself be entertained in the usual manner. Of his successor, Caligula, Suetonius writes: ‘So fond was the emperor of singing and dancing that he could not refrain from singing with the tragedians and imitating the gestures of the dancers either by way of applause or correction.’

During the reign of Augustus the art of pantomime reached its zenith. The dances of this time were more spectacular and impressive on account of their carefully executed stage effects. As far as music was concerned, this was produced by flutes and harps, sometimes by singing voices. The Romans never cared for dancing itself, but they were fond of it as a spectacle. A great rôle in Roman life at this juncture was played by the female dancers from Cadiz, which were said to be so brilliant and passionate that poets declared it impossible to withstand the great charm these women exercised over the spectators. Some one says ‘they were all poetry and voluptuous charm.’ An English writer maintains that the famous Venus of Cailipyge was modelled from a Caditian dancer in high favor at Rome. Another noted writer calls the delicias caditanas the most fascinating performances that ever could be seen, and calls all other dances of the Romans and even the Greeks amateurish puerilities.

Of great Roman female dancers we know by name Lucceia, who was said to give performances when she was one hundred years old; Stephania, ‘the first to dance on the stage in comedy descriptive of Roman manners’; Galeria Copiola, who danced before Emperor Augustus ninety-one years after her first appearance; and Alliamatula, who danced before Nero at the age of one hundred and twenty. The most known of all the great women dancers in ancient Rome was Telethusa, a fascinating girl from Cadiz, to whose extraordinary beauty and art the poet Martial dedicated many of his songs.

CHAPTER VIII
DANCING IN THE MIDDLE AGES

The mediæval eclipse; ecclesiastical dancing in Spain; the strolling ballets of Spain and Italy; suppression of dancing by the church; dances of the mediæval nobility; Renaissance court ballets; the English masques; famous masques of the seventeenth century.

There is a lapse of time, nearly a thousand years, from the fall of the ancient civilization of Greece and Rome to the Grand Ballet of France, when the art of dancing was almost stifled by the Mediæval ecclesiastic scholasticism. Since we have practically no records of the dancing that was fostered in Cadiz, which was probably the most conspicuous at that time, we must confess that the greatly esteemed art of the ancients nearly came to a ruin. If it had not been for Spain, where dancing was introduced even into the churches, it might have taken centuries longer to revive the vanishing ideas of the ancient choreography and keep alive the plastic religion. We are told that a bishop of Valencia adopted certain sacred dances in the churches of Seville, Toledo and Valencia, which were performed before the altar. In Galicia a slow hymn-dance was performed by a tall priest, while carrying a gorgeously dressed boy on his shoulders, at the festival of Corpus Christi.

Much as the church fathers fought dancing in other countries, they had to admit it in Spain. It is said that the choir-boys of Seville Cathedral executed danzas during a part of the religious processions in mediæval Spain, and that this practice was authorized in 1439 by a Bull of Pope Eugenius IV. Of these choir-boy dancers Baron Davillier writes: ‘They are easily to be recognized in the streets of Seville by their red caps, their red cloaks adorned with red neckties, their black stockings, and shoes with rosettes and metal buttons. The hat (worn during the dance), slightly conical in shape, is turned up on one side, and fastened with a bow of white velvet, from which rises a tuft of blue and white feathers. The most characteristic feature of the costume is the golilla, a sort of lace ruff, starched and pleated, which encircles the neck. Lace cuffs, slashed trunk-hose or galzoncillo blue silk stockings and white shoes with rosettes, complete the costume of which Doré made a sketch when he saw it in Seville Cathedral, on the octave of the Conception. The dance of the boys attracts as many spectators to Seville as the ceremonies of Holy Week, and the immense cathedral is full to overflowing on the days when they are to figure in a function.’

Vuillier writes of another occasion of the Spanish temple dances: ‘One of these festivals is celebrated on the 15th of August, the day of the Assumption of the Virgin Mary, the other on the following day, the feast of the patron of the village of Alaro. On these occasions a body of dancers called Els Cosiers play the principal part. It consists of six boys dressed in white, with ribbons of many colors, wearing on their heads caps trimmed with flowers. One of them, La Dama, disguised as a woman, carries a fan in one hand and a handkerchief in the other. Two others are dressed as demons with horns and cloven feet. The party is followed by some musicians playing on the cheremias, the tamborino, and the fabiol. After vespers the Cosiers join the procession as it leaves the church. Three of them take up positions on either side of the Virgin, who is preceded by a demon; every few yards they perform steps. Each demon is armed with a flexible rod with which he keeps off the crowd. The procession stops in all the squares and principal places, and there the Cosiers perform one of their dances to the sound of the tamborino and the fabiol. When the procession returns to the church they dance together round the statue of the Virgin.’

Of a very primitive but unique nature were the mediæval strolling ballets of Spain and Italy. Some old writers assert that they originated in Italy and passed later into Spain, but others tell the contrary. Later the Portuguese organized a strolling ballet in adoration of St. Carlos. Castil-Blaze writes of a strolling ballet that was instituted by the King René of Provence, in 1462, called the Lou Gue. This consisted of allegorical scenes of the Bible and was danced in the style of Roman mythological pantomimes. Most of the conspicuous characters of the Bible and history were enacted in this ballet. The procession of the ballet went through a city to the square of a garden before some cathedral or castle. Fame headed the march, blowing a trumpet and carrying a gorgeous shield on a winged horse. He was followed by the rest of the company in various comic and spectacular costumes. There were the Duke of Urbino, King Herod, Fauns, Dryads, and Apostles, and finally the Jews, dancing round a Golden Calf.

‘King René wrote this religious ballet in all its details,’ writes Castil-Blaze. ‘Decorations, dance music, marches, all were of his invention, and his music has always been faithfully preserved and performed. The air of Lou Gue has some curious modulations; the minuet of the Queen of Sheba, the march of the Prince of Love, upon which so many noëls have been founded, and, above all the Veie de Noue, are full of originality. But the wrestler’s melody is good René’s masterpiece, if it be true that he is its author, as tradition affirms. This classic air has a pleasing melody with gracefully written harmonies; the strolling minstrels of Provence play it on their flutes to a rhythmical drum accompaniment, walking round the arena where the wrestlers are competing.’

Some queer religious pantomimes came into vogue in France about the twelfth century, and of these the torch dances, executed on the first Sunday in Lent, enjoyed the greatest popularity; but they were all suppressed by the clergy and later became degenerate. In Paris the clergy sold dancing indulgences to the rich patricians for a considerable sum of money. The high society was taught to despise dancing as an amusement unworthy of its position. It remained only a popular diversion among the middle class. The theatrical ballets and strolling pantomimes disappeared altogether. The theatre was declared by the clergy a Pagan institution and every art connected with the stage of infernal origin. But, strange to say, mediæval stage dancing was first introduced by women. Men appeared only as spectators of such performances. Thus we read in a ballad of the twelfth century that the damosels arranged a grand ball and the knights came to look on.

The first dances that the mediæval nobility introduced at their castles, in which they themselves participated, were the famous Caroles. These were performed to the vocal accompaniment of the dancers themselves, although sometimes a strolling band was hired. Out of these grew gradually the various mediæval social dances and the court ballets and gay masquerades, which reached a climax during the middle of the seventeenth century. The most celebrated of this kind were the Ballets des Ardents, arranged by the Duchess de Berri and attended by the whole court. However, the most conspicuous of the mediæval attempts in this respect was the Fête given in 1489 by Bergonzio di Botta of Tortona, in honor of Galeazzo, Duke of Milan, on the occasion of his marriage of Isabella of Aragon. Of this we read:

‘The Amphitryon chose for his theatre a magnificent hall surrounded by a gallery, in which several bands of music had been stationed; an empty table occupied the middle. At the moment when the Duke and the Duchess appeared, Jason and Argonauts advanced proudly to the sound of martial music. They bore the Golden Fleece; this was the tablecloth, with which they covered the table, after having executed a stately dance, expressive of their admiration of so beautiful a princess and of a sovereign to possess her. Next came Mercury, who related how he had been clever enough to trick Apollo, shepherd of Admetus, and rob him of a fat calf, which he returned to present to the newly married pair, after having had it nobly trussed and prepared by the best cook of Olympus. While he was placing it upon the table, three quadrilles that followed him danced round the fatted calf, as the Hebrews had formerly capered round that of gold.’

The writer describes how Diana, Mercury and the Nymphs followed the first scene. Then Orpheus appears to the music of flutes and lutes. ‘Each singer, each dancer had his special orchestra, which was arranged for him according to the sentiments expressed by his song or by his dance. It was an excellent plan, and served to vary the symphonies; it announced the return of a character who had already appeared, and produced a varied succession of trumpets, of violins with their sharp notes, of the arpeggios of lutes, and of the soft melodies of flutes and reed pipes. The orchestrations of Monteverdi prove that composers at that time varied their instrumentation thus, and this particular artifice was not one of the least causes of the prodigious success of opera in the first years of its creation.’

This was followed by a solo singer accompanied by a lyre, after whose aria Atlanta and Theseus appeared to the sound of brass instruments. After this appeared a ballet of Tritons. During the intermission refreshments were served and the spectacle ended with the scenes of Orpheus, Hymen and Cupid. Finally, Lucretia, Penelope, Thomyris, Judith, Portia, and Sulpici advanced and laid at the feet of the Duchess the palms of virtue that they had won during their lives.

There is no doubt that this spectacular fête of the Duke of Milan gave the initial impetus to the following Grand Ballets at the French Court, which in turn became the embryos of the modern stage dances. It is also very likely that the well-known masques, so much in vogue during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, were an outcome of the original Milan pageant. In particularly high favor stood the masques at the English court. Thus we read that in 1605 ‘The Masque of Blackness’ was given at Whitehall, in which Queen Anne and her ladies blackened their skins and appeared as blackamoors. The Spanish Ambassador, having to kiss Her Majesty’s hand, gave voice to his fears that the black might come off. Three years later ‘The Masque of Beauty’ was given. Both were written by Ben Jonson. The speeches of the masques were mostly in verse, but sometimes in prose. In the ‘Masque of Castillo,’ written by John Crowne in 1675, the Princess Anne and Mary took part at St. James’ Palace and the performance was a great success. Though Bacon designated masques as mere toys, nevertheless he enjoyed them as spectacles on account of their rich colors and costumes. In 1632 James Shirley wrote ‘The Triumph of Peace,’ upon which production a sum of £21,000 was expended. This was given for the first time before the king and queen at Whitehall and was repeated in Merchant Tailors’ Hall. The music to this was composed by William Lawes and Simon Ives. The scenes and costumes were designed and superintended by the famous architect Inigo Jones.

Nearly all the masques of olden times were written in honor of the marriage of royalty or of some great nobleman and were mostly given at Christmastide Twelfth Night. They were said to be many-sided in their construction, music and themes. For the most part they were dramatic, festive and gay, the allegorical characters giving them an element of poetic charm. Dancing was one of their most potent elements, and this was graceful, dainty and lively. The dancers called maskers were a special feature in the masques, though they had nothing to do with speech or song. The dresses in these masques were not always accurate, for the parts were sometimes acted by women in farthingales, though they impersonated classic goddesses. Masques were patronized in England for only two centuries, Henry VIII, Elizabeth, James I, and Charles I being their main sponsors. Queen Anne of Denmark was so much delighted with them that she acted one of the characters.

Alfonso Ferrabosco, a noted musician of Italian descent, was the composer of many masques during the reign of James I. Other composers were Nicholas Laniere and John Coperario. ‘Salmacida Spolia’ by Sir William Davenant, with music by Ferrabosco, was said to be one of the most spectacular masques of the seventeenth century. It consisted of pretty scenes and songs between the dances, so full of allegory and devices, and so gay in costumes and light that it was a favorite of English nobility for three generations. The most popular of the English masques were ‘Love’s Triumph Callipolis’ by Ben Jonson and Inigo Jones, which was performed at the court in 1630; the ‘Sun’s Darling,’ performed in 1623; the ‘Masque of Owles,’ performed for King Charles I; and ‘Tempe Restored’ by Aurelian Townsend, performed in 1632, with Queen Henrietta Maria and fourteen ladies as the leading characters. In the last-named masque the beasts form a procession, fourteen stars descend to the music of the spheres, and Tempe is restored to the true followers of the Muses. Large figures were posted on either side of the stage, one a winged woman, the other a man, with the lighted torch of Knowledge and Ignorance. Women with snaky locks mingled with Harmony in the songs of the chorus of Circe. Dances by the queen and her ladies added to the spectacular character of the scene.

CHAPTER IX
THE GRAND BALLET OF FRANCE

Louis XIV and the ballet; the Pavane and the Courante; reforms under Louis XV; Noverre and the ballet d’action; Auguste Vestris and others; famous ballets of the period—the Revolution and the Consulate; the French technique, the foundation of ‘choreographic grammar’; the ‘five positions’; the ballet steps—Famous danseuses: Sallé, Camargo; Madeleine Guimard; Allard.

I

Though Catherine de Medici, Henri IV, and Cardinal Richelieu are often quoted as the first rulers who enabled and encouraged their subjects to revive the ancient dances and thus lay the foundation of the modern ballet, the honor really belongs to Louis XIV. His love for dancing was so vital that he himself figured frequently on the stage, and emphasized the fact that the theatre was not a Pagan or immoral institution. He personally inspired Lully, Benserade and Molière to devote their genius to the stage. He introduced Minuets, Gavottes, Pavanes and Courantes at his court functions and they were copied by all the other rulers and by the nobility. In 1661 the Royal Academy of Dancing was founded. To its graduates were given the privileges that were enjoyed only by the highest officers of the empire. It is said that the king danced in the Masque of Cassandra when he was thirteen years of age. The French historians write that Louis XIV danced in twenty-seven grand ballets, not to mention the intermezzi of lyrical tragedies and comedy-ballets. In the Ballet du Carrousel, given in 1662 on a large open space before the Tuileries, the king danced in the rôle of a Roman emperor and his brother in that of a Turkish sultan. On the occasion of the king’s marriage in 1660 the ballet ‘Hercules in Love’ was given at the palace.

Lully’s ballet, ‘Cupid and Bacchus,’ was said to be a piece full of imagination, dramatic, vigorous and rich in timely mood. ‘The Triumph of Love,’ performed in 1681, being the first ballet in which women appeared, is considered one of the best creations of this time musically and scenically. One of the most popular comic ballets of that era was Impatiencem, composed of series of disconnected scenes of extremely humorous nature. Pecour and Le Basque were the two celebrated dancers of those days, while Beauchamp, a talented composer and artist of considerable imaginative power, acted as Director of the Academy of Dancing and ballet-master in the Opéra. All his ballets were distinguished by their extraordinary complexity of mechanical contrivances, by imposing effects and their allegorical character. However, towards the end of the century Dupré appeared on the stage and soon far surpassed all his predecessors. Noverre speaks of him as the god of dancing, whose harmony of movements was of marvellous perfection.

The principal tendency of dancing of this era was to be magnificent and noble, but it lacked individuality and failed to stir the emotions. The best examples of this kind of stateliness and stiffness are offered by the Pavane and Courante, which still survive. The gentleman, with hat in one hand, a gilded sword at his side, an imposing cloak thrown over his arm, gravely bowed before his partner, stiff and statuesque in her long train, and began the dance walking gravely around the room. The Pavane was ridiculously ceremonial and conventional. The Courante was different, somewhat resembling the Minuet. It was rather graceful, consisting of backward and forward steps. How fond the king was of the Courante is evident of what Regnard writes: ‘Pecour gives him lessons in the Courante every morning.’ Littré says that the Courante began by bows and courtseys, after which the dancer and the partner performed a set figure, which formed a sort of elongated ellipse. This step was in two parts: the first consisted in making plié relevé, at the same time bringing the foot from behind into the fourth position in front by a pas glissé; the second consisted of a jetté with one foot, and a coupé with the other. The dancers performed the back stay step twice, returning to position, and turned, beginning the movement again by repeating the first springing step and the back stay step, so that the partners changed places and turn. All these three figures were then repeated, commencing with the opposite foot. Eight bars of music were always occupied with the slow pas de basque in a circle. This briefly shows the same designs and forms in the dance of this era that we find in the Rococco style of architecture.

But the beginning of the eighteenth century shows a marked reaction against the statuesque solemnity, the dead stiffness and merciless etiquette that had prevailed. An era of artificial reforms begins with Louis XV. To this period belongs the origin of our modern industrialism. The views and feelings of the feudal system begin to give place to those of coming realism and individualism. But the change is insignificant, as the art of dancing lacks in this as it did in the other, energy, feeling and soul. The one was more impressive through its grand outlines, the other excelled through its dainty charm, like the fashions, decorations and other arts of that time. Long, gilded mirrors, gay garlands of flowers, frail elliptic carvings, graceful designs, gauzy tissues, mauve ribbons, painted faces and hands, perfumed atmosphere, these and numerous other impressions emanate of the art of dancing of the first part of the eighteenth century, although to this era belong the vigorous attempts of Jean-Georges Noverre, the greatest of all the dance authorities of the past centuries.

Noverre, the celebrated ballet-master of France, is considered the father of the ballet and classic dancing generally. The brothers Gardel and Dauberval based their ideas upon the principles of Noverre. It was he who drove the masks, paniers, and padded coat-skirts from the stage and made it human. ‘A ballet,’ he said, ‘is a picture, or rather a series of pictures, connected by the action which forms the subject of the ballet. To me the stage is a canvas on which the composer paints his ideas, notes his music and displays scenery colored by appropriate costumes. A picture is an imitation of Nature; but a good ballet is Nature itself, ennobled by all the charms of art. The music is to dancing what the libretto is to the music.’ According to his theory the action of the dancer should be an instrument for the rendering of the written idea. Before Noverre laid the foundation to his ballet d’action, dancing had existed as an auxiliary form to opera and was lacking in any signs of life. The dancers wearing powdered hair piled up a foot on their heads, and the men in their long-skirted coats made the impression more of a big puppet-show than of a living dance. This made the use of intricate and plastic movements of the body and, moreover, of mimic expressions, absolutely impossible. This is Noverre’s argument:

‘I wish to reduce by three-quarters the ridiculous paniers of our danseuses. They are opposed equally to freedom, to quickness and to the prompt and animated action of the dance. They deprive the figure of its elegance and of the just proportions which it ought to possess. They diminish the beauty of the arms; they bury, so to speak, the graces. They embarrass and distract the dancer to such a degree that the movement of her panier sometimes occupies her more seriously than that of her limbs.’

In spite of his great reputation and influence, Noverre found it difficult to reform the stage fundamentally. He failed to perform his own ballets in the way he wished. Thus in the ‘Horatii’ Camilla appeared in hooped petticoat, her hair piled up and decorated with fantastic ribbons and flowers. However, his reforms gained ground little by little. Much as he tried, he failed in reforming the stage celebrities of his time. This actuated the great reformer to say, ‘what we lack is not talent, but emulation. It almost seems, in fact, as if this were deliberately repressed. How I should rejoice to see a great dancer performing some noble part without plumes or wig or masks! I should then be able to applaud his sublime talent with satisfaction to myself; and I could then justly apply the term “great” to him, whereas now the most I say is: “Ah la bella gamba!” It is evident, therefore, that theatrical dancing demands many reforms. They cannot, of course, all be carried out at once; but we might at least begin. Let us do away with those gold painted masks, which deprive us of what would be one of the most interesting features of a pas-de-deux, the expressions of the performers’ faces. The disappearance of the periwig would follow of itself, and a shepherd would no longer dance in a plumed helmet.’

It is said that the Noverre’s ballets reached the number of fifty. But most known of them are ‘The Death of Ajax,’ ‘The Clemency of Titus,’ ‘The Caprices of Galatea,’ ‘Orpheus’ Descent Into Hell,’ ‘Rinaldo and Armida,’ ‘The Roses of Love,’ ‘The Judgment of Paris,’ etc. Several of these he produced at the courts of Stuttgart, Vienna, St. Petersburg and Florence. It was through his influence upon the Empress Anna of Russia that the great Russian Imperial Ballet School was founded, whose graduates have been electrifying the European audiences during the present and past decades.

Noverre’s reform ideas were much perfected by the French composers and dancers of the following generation, men whom we have previously mentioned—Gardel, Dauberval, the Vestris brothers, and, in addition, Duport, Blasis and Milon. Auguste Vestris was twelve years old when he made his début in Paris, in 1772, in the ballet La Cinquantaine, and aroused the wildest enthusiasm in the audience. His high leaps were so popular that his father used to boast, ‘If Auguste does not stay up in the air, it is because he is unwilling to humiliate his comrades.’ For thirty-six years he was premier danseur of the Opéra of Paris, and preserved his popularity till the age of sixty-six, when he retired to give lessons in dancing at the Academy. Of an eighteenth-century performance Weber writes graphically:

‘On June 11, 1778, Mile. Guimard and the younger Vestris danced in the new ballet, Les Petits Riens, with Dauberval and Mlle. Anglin. The performance was a great success. The only author mentioned was Noverre, the celebrated ballet-master. It was he who had imagined the three scenes, which were in fact the groundwork of his ballet. The first scene represented Love, caught in a net and put in a cage; the second, a game of blind-man’s buff; and in the third, which was the greatest success, Love led two shepherdesses up to a third, disguised as a shepherd, who discovered the trick by unveiling her bosom. “Encore!” cried the audience. Mlle. Guimard, the younger Vestris, and Noverre were heartily applauded, but not one “bravo!” was given to the composer of the music—who was no other than the divine Mozart. Mozart, who, fifteen years before, had been acclaimed in Paris as an infant prodigy and an inspired composer, was vegetating in the city in poverty and obscurity. The success of Les Petits Riens apparently made little difference to him, for a few days after the performance we find him leaving Paris, and seeking employment as an organist to ensure his daily bread.’

This sad episode of the treatment of one of the greatest musical geniuses of his time is partly proof of how little valued was the musical side of a ballet at that time, yet it is also a graphic picture of the mental level of audiences of any time—ours not excluded—who judge a genius by public sentiment artificially aroused, either by means of some press-agent or by incidental novelty.

Of the Gardel ballets the most popular were Paul et Virginie, La Dansomanie, Psyche, L’Oracle, Telemaque, and Le Déserteur. The writer witnessed a performance of Psyche given by the Russian Imperial Ballet with all the true atmosphere of its age, and it made a peculiar impression, similar to that which we get in visiting ethnographic museums of Europe. It was performed in Paris first time on December 14, 1790, at the Théâtre des Arts and pleased the people so immensely that it has been repeated not fewer than a thousand times since. The Dansomanie, which was given during the Revolution, was less effective and the author was apparently depressed, though he had chosen a subject of timely character—peasants, villagers and Savoyard farmers acting as the heroes. His ballet, Guillaume Tell, promised to be more successful, as the Committee of Public Safety had ordered its performance, but the money granted for its staging was stolen by politicians and Gardel took back his manuscript. It was given after his death. But his spectacular ballet Marseillaise created a furore when it was given at the Opéra. The ballet opened with a blast of trumpets, and was executed by dancers dressed as warriors and participants in a hungry mob. Mlle. Maillard, personifying Liberty, took her rôle so well that the actors on the stage and the audience fell on their knees before her, as though in prayer. The solemn hymn passage of this part of the opera, and the slow, majestic dance of the artist were so impressive that the audience burst into sobs.

II

Though the ballet lost its previous splendor under the Revolution, yet it became more vigorous in its enforced simplicity. The French writers admit that the ballets performed in connection with the fêtes of the Republic were marked by more serious tendencies and possessed certain profound emotional qualities. Actors and dancers soon accommodated themselves to the new ideals of social life. The Festival of the Supreme Being, conducted by Robespierre himself, was the most important of the itinerant ballets of that time. It was a ceremony of classic nature, performed with slow and march-like steps. Special ceremonial dances were also performed by the colossal statue of Wisdom to the accompaniment of an orchestra. The members of the Convention had their places on a specially erected platform, while choirs chanted a hymn to the Supreme Being. The President set fire with a torch to an image of Atheism. ‘An immense mountain,’ writes Castil-Blaze, ‘symbolized the national altar; upon its summits rises the tree of Liberty, the Representatives range themselves under its protective branches, fathers with their sons assemble on the part of the mountain set aside for them; mothers with their daughters place themselves on the other side; their fecundity and the virtues of their husbands are their sole titles to a place there. A profound silence reigns all around; touching strains of harmonious melody are heard: the fathers and their sons sing the first strophe; they swear with one accord that they will not lay down their arms until they have annihilated the enemies of the Republic, and all the people take up the finale.’

This short picture gives a fairly clear idea of the Revolutionary period, which laid a new foundation to the French arts, including the art of dancing. The historians tell us that scarcely was the Terror at an end when twenty-three theatres and eighteen hundred dancing salons were open every evening in Paris. The costumes worn by the dancers under the first Republic were more or less imitations of those of the ancient Greeks. The women arranged their hair in imitation of the coiffures of Aspasia and Sappho, and appeared with bare arms, bare bosoms, sandalled feet, and hair bound in plaits round their heads. Even during the Terror people danced in every restaurant on the boulevards, in the Champs Élysées, and along the quays. It is said the people danced in order to forget the tragedies of the day. Milon was a celebrated composer and ballet-master under the Consulate. The most popular of his ballets during this period were Les Sauvages de la Mer du Sud, Lucas et Laurette, Héro et Leandre, Clary, Nina, Le Carnaval de Venise, etc. As in their dress and their ideals, so also in their dancing the people showed an outspoken tendency to appear à la sauvage. However, the political turmoils that shook France in these centuries, when the art of ballet crystallized into a systematic shape, assisted its natural development, chiefly by forcing it to swing from one extreme to the other.

The foundation which the French grand ballet laid for the art of dancing still prevails in all the dancing schools of Europe. The ballet codes of all the modern nations use the same French grammar of technique as that which was taught to Mlles. Sallé, Camargo, and Guimard during the past centuries. To the French Academy of Dancing the world owes the principles of the ballet-technique, the pirouettes, jetés, chassés, etc. The French ballet-masters found it necessary to divide dancing into five different positions, which formed the foundation of all dancing; and then classified the various styles of steps. In describing first, the positions, we begin with the right foot, but the movements would be the same if we would choose the left foot. First position: place the heels against each other, the knees and toes turned well out, the legs firm and straight, the body erect and well balanced, standing equally on the two feet. Second position: pass the right foot to the side to the length of the foot, the weight of the body resting on both feet, the right heel turned forward. Third position: bring the heel of the extended foot close to the hollow of the other instep, in the middle. Fourth position: move the right toe to the front, the toe pointed, the heel forward. Fifth position: let the feet be completely crossed, the heel of one foot brought to the toe of the other.

In systematizing the dance steps the French based their technique upon the ancient method. Here we find the pas marché, or the walking step, in which the toe is pointed and is accompanied by a springy gait, for it is often combined with a jeté and a demi coupé, as the primary steps of the ballet. This is followed by the jeté, which means, spring forward on the pointed toe of the front foot so that the weight is thrown on it. To perform this it is necessary first to bend the knee and jump on the foot; second, to bring the toe of the right foot into the above-described third position; third, advance the right foot in small steps; fourth, bring the left foot behind into the fifth position and raise the right.

The pas coupé is a step that requires the raising of one foot to the second position, then bringing it quickly to the other foot, which is then raised. Literally it means a step cut short. A step to the side is called coupé lateral, it is a coupé dessous if the same movement is executed in front or behind. Then there is a demi coupé, in which the step is half made. The chassé is a step in which the feet appear to be chasing each other close to the ground. It requires the advancing of the front foot, bringing the other close to it behind, then advancing the hind foot to the front, with an assemblé round the other foot. The first movement requires a step forward with right foot, bringing the toe of the left to the heel of the front foot. Then step forward, bring the foot back to third position with an assemblé, and let the other foot take the fifth position in front.

The battements is balancing on one foot, while the other is extended to the side, front or back, and returning to the fifth position, in front or at the back. In the petit battements the movements are made with the toe on the ground. For theatrical dancing the leg is raised as high as possible. The arabesque is a step that requires the placing of the foot in the third position, then a slide of the left foot to the second position, turning the face and body in the same direction, the left hand curved above the head. In the second movement the right foot should be well extended behind, and the right hand stretched out behind. Of a quite different nature is the cabriole, which means striking the feet or calves of the legs together in the course of a leap. A demi-cabriole is a leap from one foot to the other, striking the feet while aloft. It requires the feet to be in the third position, sliding the right foot to the side, passing the left foot to the back, springing on the right foot, and turning and leaving the left foot still behind; the fourth movement brings the left foot forward with the right knee to the third position. Executed by trained ballet dancers with both feet in the air while the legs are rapidly separated and brought together, it is an effective trick.

Well known even to social dancers, as the basis of the polka-step, is the pas bourrée. This requires the dancer to stand on the front foot while the back one is raised. In the first movement the back foot is brought into the third position on the toes. The second movement is the beating of the front foot, and third movement the beating of back and front feet. To this step belongs the pas de bourrée emboîté, which requires the advancing of the right foot to the fourth position, the toe pointed and the knee straight, the bringing up of the left foot to the fourth position with the toe pointed behind the right, and the advancing of the right foot with the toe pointed to the fourth position without any raising or sinking of the body; it is all performed on the toes.

Quite acrobatic in character are the celebrated pirouettes—movements composed of a demi-coupé and two steps on the points of the toes. The pirouette starts by bringing one foot to the fifth position behind, the toe touching the heel, then raising both heels and turning on the toe, reversing the position of the feet, and revolving on the toe. A pirouette used in the old dances consists of a turn on one foot and the raising of the heel of the other, stepping with the toe of this foot four times and so getting around the other one. In some of the slow pirouettes the movement seems to consist of the raising of the foot and jumping round as in some of the country dances. To this class belongs the fouetté, which gives a fluid, swinging impression.

Of ancient French origin is the pas de basque, which starts in the fifth position with the bringing of the right foot forward with pointed toe, and passing in a semi-circle to the second position with the weight on the right foot, then with a glissade through the third position into the fourth. The glissade is a slide. Slide the front foot from the third position with pointed toe slightly raised to the right; then bring the left toe to the right heel, and vice versa. The first movement is the sliding of the foot from the third to the second position; the second, the left foot is drawn into the third position forward and repeats.

The fleuret is a movement composed of a demi-coupé and two steps on the points of the toes. Start in the fourth position without touching the ground, bend the knees equally and pass the right foot in front in the fourth position, and so rise on the points of the toes and walk two steps on the toes, letting the heel be firm as you finish. This can be done also at the back and sides. The ‘balance’ is performed by rising and falling on the side of one foot, while the other is brought up close. The brisé and entre-chat are related movements. They occur during the spring while in the air. The feet cross and recross, and assume various positions. The changement de pied is a conventional step. In the first movement the dancer springs upward from the third position with the right foot forward; in the second, he throws this foot back and the left forward, dropping down into the third position, the situation of the feet being changed; this can be done in the same manner starting from the fifth position. The pas sauté is a jumping step, performed by bending the knee and leaping on one foot while the other is raised. Of more or less importance are the assemblé and the ballotté. The movement in the former is that of bringing the foot from an open to a closed position, as from the second position to the fifth. The latter is a crossing of the feet alternately before and behind. Then there is the pivot, in which the dancer revolves on one foot while the other beats time in turning around.

This is briefly the elementary grammar of the French ballet technique, upon which the mechanical part of the art of dancing has been based. This was thought to be of essential value for a dancer in producing the most effective lines of the various positions and gestures of the body. According to the views of the authorities of the French Academy, mental application to physical effort were the chief requirements of a dancer. The gymnastic, and particularly the acrobatic, features occupied the foremost place in the ballet performances. Thus dancers in a ballet were not considered human beings but rather moving figures in a decorative design. Even the celebrated prima ballerinas, Mlles. Sallé, Camargo and Guimard, who are considered as the first accomplished women dancers on the European stage, with their ‘ravishing figures,’ and ‘enchanting appearances’ as Voltaire praised them in his poems, remained acrobatic puppets, as compared with our modern terpsichorean celebrities.

III

The advent of the above-named three French ballet dancers was due to the genial reforms of Noverre, the Shakespeare of the dance, in the eighteenth century. We know very little of the principal qualities of Mlle. Sallé’s art, except that she disliked rapid measures and choreographic eccentricities. She was the principal dancer in many of Noverre’s ballets, especially in ‘The Caprices of Galatea’ and ‘Rinaldo and Armida,’ and in several Gardel ballets. In 1734 she appeared at Covent Garden in London, in the ballet of ‘Pygmalion and Galatea,’ and seemed to electrify her audiences so much that Handel wrote for her the ballet ‘Terpsichore,’ and at the close of the ballet purses filled with jewels were showered on the stage at her feet.

The real favorite of the eighteenth century opera habitués was Mlle. Camargo. Her success is said to have been so sensational that the crowds around the doors of the theatre in London fought for the mere privilege of seeing her. She was also famous for her enchanting body and fascinating personality. Though born in Brussels, she was the daughter of a Spanish ballet-master, therefore she had at her command all the impassioned art of the ancient Caditians. At the age of ten she was sent by the Princess de Ligne to Paris and became a pupil of Madame Prévost, the foremost dancing teacher of that time. At the age of eleven she made her début at Rouen; but she continued her study until she was sixteen when she appeared for the first time at the Opera in Paris with unparalleled success. ‘Nimble, coquettish, and light as a sylph, she sparkled with intelligence,’ writes Castil-Blaze. ‘She added to distinction and fire of execution a bewitching gayety which was all her own. Her figure was very favorable to her talent: hands, feet, limbs, stature, all were perfect. But her face, though expressive, was not remarkably beautiful. And as in the case of the famous harlequin Dominique, her gayety was a gayety of the stage only; in private life she was sadness itself.’

Camargo is credited with having brought about an absolute revolution in opera by her fanciful and ingenious improvisations. In spite of the prevailing stiffness and rigid rules in the ballet she made a special place for herself by depicting the characters that she had to personify on the stage. She delighted in the conquering of technical difficulties. Stormy love affairs affected her so much that for six years she retired from the stage. But she quitted public life in 1741 and lived in seclusion the rest of her life. She left two children with the Duc de Richelieu and Comte de Clermont. She died at sixty years of age and ‘was remembered as the grave, sweet woman whose last years had been spent in loneliness and meditation.’

Madeleine Guimard, whose fame loomed up soon after the retirement of Camargo, remained for forty years a commanding figure in the French ballet. Born in Paris in 1743, she made her début at the age of eighteen and was acclaimed as an artist of exquisite figure, marvellous grace, and extremely distinguished manners. She knew how to make money out of her rich patrons but she was also most reckless in the expenditure of her wealth and her affections. She possessed two elaborate villas, one at Pantin, the other in the Chaussée d’Antin, in both of which she had built little stages on which she and her contemporary stage celebrities gave performances to the high society of Paris. Fleury says that ‘it was a gala day for one of our actors when he could escape from the desert of the Comédie Française and disport himself on the boards of a theatre so perfectly arranged.’ She entertained the guests of the court at her houses and loved to make her arrangements to clash with those given at the court. She was said to be pensioned by a Royal prince, a banker and a bishop, but lost nearly everything in the revolutionary storms. Retiring from the Opéra in 1789, she married the dancer Despreaux, who died soon after. Her old age was verging on misery and she died neglected in a miserable three-room apartment in the Rue Menars, at the age of seventy-three.

A great dramatic ballerina after Camargo was Mlle. Allard, whose partners were Vestris, Dauberval and Gardel. Her frenzied admirers claimed that she far surpassed Camargo because of her added fire, her unusual agility and the expressive beauty of her poses. At one time she would be an ideal Sylvia, gentle and graceful to her finger-tips, then again she was the terrible Medea; now she personified the ethereal charms of a goddess of youth, then the voluptuous passions of a sultana. She figured as the prima ballerina in many of the ballets written by Maximilian Gardel, Milon, Mozart and Rossini.

Of other dancers of the French school who enjoyed public favor under the Republic and the early Napoleonic era Duport is the only conspicuous figure. Being a special favorite with Napoleon, he was the star in the ballets of Blasis and Blache. He composed some ballets himself in which he played the leading rôles. But these gained little success. Napoleon wrote to Cambaceres from Lyons that it was inconceivable to him why Duport had been allowed to compose ballets. ‘This young man has not been in vogue a year. When one has made such a marked success in a particular line, it is a little precipitate to invade the specialty of other men, who have grown gray at their work.’ This clearly shows how much the great emperor was interested in the ballet, and how well he could criticize its artistic values.

The Napoleonic era stopped temporarily the development of the ballet. Pieces composed during this time gained production more easily on foreign stages than at home. Thus the brilliant Antoine et Cléopatre, with music by Kreutzer, lived a few performances at home, whereas it became one of the most successful ballets abroad. The same was the case with Blache’s ballets ‘Don Juan,’ ‘Gustave Vasa’ and ‘Malakavel,’ which became the favorites of the St. Petersburg audiences, while they remained unknown at home. It seems as if the political events which marked such a great step towards democratic ideas in France and Europe became a serious stumbling-stone to the evolution of the dance. Democratic England always relied on autocratic France, Italy, Austria and Russia for stimulation in dancing. All the great ballet celebrities of continental Europe found in England responsive and generous audiences, but never any serious rivals. Who of the great French prima ballerinas or male dancers, from Mlle. Sallé till Carlotta Grisi, did not make pilgrimages to Drury Lane?

Danseuses en Scène (The Ballet)

Painting by E. Degas

Though to the period of the Renaissance and the European national awakening belong all the immortal musical geniuses, like Bach, Mozart, Gluck, Beethoven, Schubert and others, who laid the foundations of the opera and symphony, yet these men seemed to ignore the ballet (if we leave out of consideration their inferior or incidental works). Gluck wrote a few pieces of this order, and so did Mozart; but they are not the works of their inspiration. Scribe, Rossini, Auber, Weber and Meyerbeer gave occasional expression to ballet music, particularly in connection with their operas, but they regarded these works as inferior to their operas. There are two reasons for this: ecclesiastical prejudice and the revolutionary mob. Just as a fanatical clergy branded the dance as Pagan and immoral, so the mob has always regarded the ballet as an aristocratic luxury. Science seems to us essentially democratic; but from the arts there breathes an air of snobbishness and luxury. The history of civilization has not yet recorded a truly democratic art, particularly a democratic ballet.

CHAPTER X
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