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THE

A R T

D A N C IN G.

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THE *

ART OF DANCING.

PO E. M.

PRECEDED BY A

HISTORICAL AND DESCRIPTIVE ACCOUNT OF NATI

ONAL DANCES, AND FOLLOWED BY DIRECTIONS * * FoR THE ACQUIsITION OF A GRACEFUL

AIR AND DEPORTMENT; AND FOR THE REMEDY OF NATURAL AND OF AcQUIRED DEFECTs.

BY MR. J.ENKINS, \.

- : -

LONDON :

\ J. J. STOCKDALE, 90, STRAND. 1822.

J. J. Stockdale, Printer, Office of “The True Briton Newspaper, 89, Straud. *

* R AN HistoRICAL AND DESCRIPTIVE ACCOUNT

, * - OF NATIONAL DANCEs. . .

* WE will not enquire into the Dancing of bar barous nations or of fabulous times. It is not, however, irrelevant to observe, that the ancient INDIANs adored the sun, by turning towards the east, and dancing in a profound silence, as if they thereby meant, to imitate in their move ments, the apparent march of that luminary;

* * * and that it was from t - nations, that what is called * spread itself into Greece.

- *- - Even at the present day, the dancing of £, . the EASTERN NATIONs partakes of the same slow and expressive character. Marsden says,

* * * * * * B. " * * # # *

- * - -

* * - s "> * * 4.

* * * *. * 6 ART OF DANC ING.

that among the softer amusements of the Sum atrans, their dances are the principal. These are performed either singly, or by two women, two men, or with both mixed. Their motions and attitudes are usually slow, approaching often to the lascivious, and not unfrequently to the ludicrous. This is, I believe, the general . opinion formed of them by Europeans; but it may be the effect of prejudice. Our usual dances are, in their judgment, to the full as . ridiculous. The minuets they compare to the fighting of two game-cocks, alternately approach ing and receding ! Our country dances they esteem too violent and confused, without shew ing grace or agility.

** From India, the GREEKs probably derived some portion of the character of their dances. Certain it is, that the art was highly honoured by the Greeks of the earliest ages. Homer celebrates Moriones for having been a good dancer; and in another place he says, - * •

"Axxy asyyx, 48wxe Seos roxsania eryx, ** 'AXX4 d'ârynsvv, *tegw assagiu xx &oiâyv. * #. Hom. II. XIII.730, 31.

To some the powers of bloody war belong, - *

To some the dance, the lyre, the charms of song." - - Pope, c. XIII. 915, “ . . . ** * * * NATIONAL DANCES. 7

Plato, Aristotle, Xenophon, Plutarch, Lu cian, Athenaeus, and most of the Greek authors, treat of dancing with approbation, and even with encomiums.

The dance of the Greeks, however, in its most general acceptance, not only expressed actions, but inclinations and habits. It formed the body to strength, to agility, to grace. It awakened and preserved in the soul, the senti ment of harmony and proportion. In the time of Plato, it had become a considerable part of the religious ceremonies, and military exercises; and the government itself made it an object of its attention and concern. It obtained also a place among the institutes of Lycurgus, where different parts of the military dance were assign ed to the old, the middle ages, and the young. In consequence of this, the Greeks not only established academies for this exercise, but in stituted games at which the prize was contend. ed for, by excellence in the art; and to give more encouragement and celebrity to the prize, the conqueror was to receive it from the public.

The masters, or composers, of the genuine * dances, were the poets themselves; they taught * - B 2 ..

- ** **.

- * * * : * * * * * *. - f

* 8.- : AART of DANCING. * * * * the figure and motions to those who were to execute them: and we read that Thespis, Pra tinas, ;Cratinus, and Phrynicus, danced then selves in the representation of their own dramas.

The dance, indeed, constituted a part of the music of the ancients; for this music included both poetry and dancing. The arts of intona tion and of dancing were very frequently con nected with lyric poems: at least with such

* kind of poems as consist of strophe, antistrophe, and epode. Among the odes of Pindar, we find some, the strophe and antistrophe, of which each consist of seventeen verses, and the epode

- of thirteen. By this union of poetry, music

* . and dancing, and only by this, was the ear of *the auditor, who was likewise a spectator, eil abled to conceive the existing harmony between ... the strophe and the antistrophe, and the con nection of both with the epods, and to enjoy . them; but not without the said of the eye." * The dance, which was accompanied by the

ź song of the dancer, did not consist in springs & and bounds; but measured steps, regulated by ** the music, and accompanied by gesticulation of

the arms. During the song of the strophe, the - * dancers turned from the east to. the west, re- : * *

- se * • * * - - - …' * * * *: * * *#. & * *. * * * , & * * * * * | < * * .* > * * #, * , * - * -: * * * * ' ' ' '. ' *: ". % #. * *..

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*~~~~~~~~------NATIONAL DANCEs: * * 9 : r *. & turned with the antistrophe from the west to the east, and stood still while the epode was sung. It may easily be conceived that, anima ted as the Greek rhythums is, its harmonic connection, during the vast circuit, if I may so say of the rhythmic period, would have escaped the ear, had not union and expression been com municated by music and dancing; of which we perhaps can only form a very inadequate idea.'

- *The Saltation or pantomime, according to Plutarch, was composed of three parts: : * . . . . "… '*- * * **** ** . * The first was the motion, whether by the step, or by leaping, it ...... * - * --> * * 1, * , *. The second was the figure." * . - - - - -

** - #. " * * , - * The third was the demonstration of representation of " the subject. , * * * * The dance was distinguished into simple and composite. The simple dance was that which was only formed of the motions of the limbs; as of leaping, of the change, the cross ing, the striking of the feet, the running forward or backward, > the bending or extension of the hams, the raising or falling of the arms, with the differeut figures which comprehended * not only the motions, but the pauses or rests, as when the 's * points were to imitate one sleeping, or thinking, or admiring, or terrified, or observing, or weeping, or laughing, &c. " * * * *** * -> -- - * -: --- # *- ; : , , * * .* * *- *...*. * **y - * . * - - * * * : *. * *

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10 - ART OF DANCING.

In Plato's time, dancing admitted of three divisions; first, military dances; second, do mestic, or joyous dances; third, dances in ex piations and solemn sacrifices, or festivals.

I. Of MILITARY DANCEs, there were two sorts; the gymnopedic dance, or the dance of children; and the enoplian, or the armed dance.

The Spartans had invented the first for an early excitation of the courage of their children, and to lead them insensibly to the exercise of the armed dance. This gymnopedic dance used to be executed in the public place. It was composed of two choirs, the one of grown men, the other of children; whence, being chiefly de signed for these, it took its name. They were both of them in a state of nudity. The choir of the children regulated their motions by those

*

*

The composite dance. was so called from the dancer's adding to the motions of his limbs, various feats of acti vity, with baskets, quoits, wheels, ivy-wrapped spears, i. e. swords, &c. * - NATIONAL DANCEs. 1]

of the men, and all danced at the same time, singing the poems of Thales, Alcman, and Dionysodotus.

The enoplian, or pyrrhic, was danced by young men armed cap-a-pee; who executed to the sound of the flute, all the proper movements, either for attack or for defence. It was com

posed of four parts. -

The ifirst was the podism, or footing; which consisted in a quick shifting motion of the feet, such as was necessary for overtaking a flying enemy, or for getting away from him, when an overmatch.

The second part was the xiphism: this was a kind of mock fight, in which the dancers imi. tated all the motions of a combatant : aiming a stroke, darting a javelin, or dextrously dodg ing, parrying, or avoiding a blow, or thrust.

The third part, called the komos, consisted in very high leaps or vaultings, which the dan cers frequently repeated, "for the better using themselves, occasionally, to leap a ditch, or spring over a wall.

* - * :

*

t 12 ART OF DANCING. * s* * The tetracomos - was the fourth and last part: this was a square figure, executed by slow and majestic movements.—Some pretend, that it was particular to the Athenians, Pollux (in his Ono masticon) affirms, that it was in use among other nations; * but it would be difficult to ascertain whether it was every where executed in the same manner.

* 6. Of all the Greeks, the Spartans were those who the most cultivated the pyrrhic dance. Athenaeus relates that they had a law, by which they were obliged to exercise their children at it, from the age of five years. This warlike s" people constantly retained the custom of ac * * companying - their • * dances * * with * hymns aud

ther of young men, and the third of old. *

- 4 * * * - - ** The old men opened the dance, saying, “ in

time past we were valiant.” - ** - * ,

* T - - 4. ". * - * This dance, according to Plutarch, was instituted by Ly-' curgus himself. It was not, 'however, materially different from the gymnopedia, or children's dance, before mentioned.

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*. * - * *

- - * *

* ------* - .. * * NAMoNAL DANCES. 13. *

* - “We are so at present,” was the response of the young. # * * “We shall still be more so when our time comes,” replied the chorus of the children. Salmasius has groundlessly pretended, that. these dances were always executed with arms of wood, and not of iron or steel. The Spartans never danced but with real arms. Trne it is, that other nations came, in process of time, to use, on such occasions, only weapons of parade. .Nay, it was not only so late as the time of Athenaeus,' that the dancers of the pyrrhic, instead of arms, carried only flasks, ivy-bound wands, (thyrsus), or reed,t but even in Ari stotle's days they had begun to use thyruses *. * instead of pikes, and lighted torches.jp lieu of javelins and swords. #

** : *: - : Though the true military dance is the pyr rhic, of which Phyrrhus passes for the inventor, s? ...

i *. s * * . . " • - • * Second century under Marcus Aurelius and Severus. + Probably a kind offerids, or flexible canes, such as the . Arabs use at this day in their exercises on horseback.

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* 14 ART OF DANC 1 N G.

there were * kinds of it, which all had the same name. According to Xenophon, where he speaks of the Thracians, who danced at the entertainment of their Prince Seuthes, armed men danced, bounding lightly to the sound of the flute, and parried, with their shields, strokes which they mutually aimed at each other, with

the greatest dexterity. *

A description of a military dance of the an cients, which they called the Hormos, that is, the neck band, is preserved by Lucian. The hormos, says he, is a dance performed by young men and young women, who are interchange ably arranged, one behind the other, in the form of a neck band. A youth, dancing, leads the ring, with such attitudes as may be ser viceable to him in war. A virgin modestly follows, dancing with female softness; so that the hormos weaves a garland of graceful modesty and courage.

One author assures us, that the phyrrhic dances are still to be seen in the country of the Maniots, a country which the Spartans once rendered so famous, and which is still inhabited

by men of somewhat Spartan spirit—a fero *

------> * == =- #

NATIONAL DANCEs. 15 cious, unsubdued, untameable people, governed by their own laws, and who not having forces enough to conquer an empire, of which the power might overwhelm them, content them selves with preserving their independence, and infest the Archipelago, in the character of the most terrible and most dangerous of all piratical

Cruiser S. 2. Ponqueville expressly says, that one of the modern Greek dances has the name of the pyrrhic. Two men, armed with poniards, ad vance, with measured steps, flourishing their weapons, and pointing them first against their own breasts, then against each other's; after which the dance is continued with violent leaps and other movements, which require great power and strength. In seeing this dance, says he, I could fancy myself transported to ancient Sparta, so strong an affinity did it seem to bear with the amusements of that nation. I must confess that I was almost terrified when I saw the sort of delirium into which the performers had at last worked themselves, thinking that it seemed likely to end in some sanguinary affray.

Mr. Hobhouse speaks more sceptically of the

* *

- - *. 16 ART OF DANCING. . *." * 4 identity of these dances. In the handkerchief dance, says he, which is accompanied by a song > from themselves, or which is, more properly * #. speaking, only dancing to a song, they are very violent. It is upon the leader of the string, that the principal movements devolve, and all the party take this place by turns. He begins at first opening the song, and footing quickly from side to side; then he hops quietly forward, dragging the whole string after him in a circle; and then twirls round, dropping frequently on his knee, and rebounding from the ground with a shout; every one repeating the burthen of the Song, and following the example of the leader, who, after hopping, twirling, dropping on the knee, and bounding up again, several times, round and round, resigns his place to the man next to him. The new Coryphaeus leads them through the same evolutions, but endeavours to exceed

*. • • • * his predecessor in the quickness and violence of his measures: and thus they continue at this sport for several hours, with very short inter vals; seeming to derive fresh vigour from the words of the song, which is perhaps changed * once or twice during the whole time. In order to give additional force to their vocal music, it is not unusual for two or three old men of the

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* .* *- # NATIONAL DANCES. 17

party to sit in the middle of the ring, and set the words of the song at the beginning of each verse, at the same time with the leader of the string; and one of them has often a lute to ac * company their voices. There is something ha zardous, though alluring, in attempting to dis cover points of resemblance between modern and ancient customs; yet one may venture to hint, that the Albanians, from whomsoever they may have learnt the practice, preserve, in this amusement, something very similar to the mi litary dances of which we find notice in classic authors. At the same time, one would not, as several French travellers have done, talk of * the pyrrhic dance of the Arnoots. Look into Xenophon for a description of the Greek and barbarian dances, with which he entertained SOme foreign ambassadors, and you will fix upon the Persian, as bearing the nearest re

semblance to the modern dance; for in that, - the performer dropped on the knee and rose again, and all this he did in regular measure, to the sound of the flute. In the account given of the armed dances of the Laconians, you might also recognize the curious contortions and twirlings of the Albanians, whose sudden inflections of the body into every posture, seem

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* 18 ART OF DANCING. *

indeed as if they were made to ward and give

blows. \

Mr. Haygarth speaks more decidedly. He says, Apawnses is a military dance, and requires great exertion and activity. Arnaut, from which its name is derived, signifies an Albanian soldier. I saw it danced by one, and by ten or twelve. The single dancer displayed a great deal of - strength and agility. He began in a slow time, gradually increasing the celerity of his motions, He held a handkerchief in his hand, dropped frequently on his knee, and shewed his force and dexterity in a variety of attitudes. This dance has a finer effect when performed by several. The different motions of the body in this dance, and the rapidity of the changes, seem intended to represent the various positions of a warrior in battle, and in this respect it resembles the pyrrhic dance of the ancients, which the La cedaemonians performed to the strains of Tyr taeus. Seuthes, king of Thrace, is described by Xenophon, to have leaped in the dance, as if he

was avoiding a dart; after this, came in some, * blowing horns, and sounding upon the trumpets made of raw hides, a melody not unlike that of the Magadis. Then Seuthes, starting from his , * . **

*::- - --~ --~~~~~~~~~- ~f~~ * NATIONAL DANCES. 19 "seat, shouted aloud the war cry, and leaped with great agility, as if avoiding a dart.

Pouqueville mentions another dance common among the Albanians, and distinguished by them under the title of the robber's dance. This, says he, was performed before the pasha by the Albanian soldiers, in a vast hall, lighted only by tapers of yellow wax, which threw upon the spectators a pallid, gloomy, and sepulchral hue. There appeared the pasha, seated upon his sofa, having in his girdle a poniard and two pistols, and a carbine lying by his side. Round about was his court, composed of sol diers, dressed in large cloaks, standing in at s titudes expressive of the utmost gloom and so lemnity. The executioner, according to his usual privilege, was seated opposite to the pasha, with his fierce eye fixed upon him; as if ready to strike off the head of anyone whom ** his highness might by a sign indicate to him, and layit humbly at his feet. Such was the scene in which it was performed; such were the spectators of the dance, calculated, as its very name imports, only to £ such people as the Albanians. The Coryphaei, each with one arm round hisneighbour's neck, and the other hand

** -

~- --- *** - - 20 . ART OF DANCING. * # stuck into his neighbour's girdle, formed a circle which, beginning in a slow time, afterwards made the most rapid movements, still maintaining the same rotatory figure, and mingling with their movements the most horrid cries, all which was accompanied with music, beyond expression clamorous and discordant. It sometimes hap pens, that the performers, in order to increase the interest of this dance, introduce into it the * pyrrhian which has been mentioned above, and which in its character accords perfectly with the other. After some time, the circle is broke, and the performers disperse themselves in pur suit of the robbers, whom they at length seize * and bring forward in triumph. : *. -:

II. We may next notice. The GREEK DANces * of AMUSEMENT AND RECREATION. * *. "." * ** *. * * . ... " * * & a' ** * • *_ The tender Ana boasts, fm his old age, ** : that he still retains his passion and I'G' Hess for

dancing. But what is more surprising yet, * Aspasia could, by her power of inspiring love, " make the sage Socrat though advant in '' * * years, suspend the gra of his philosoph 'to .. take share in a diversion more adaptéd to the . ** - : * * - - ***.. * *

* N * * - ->. - * * | ** : * ** > * * * * * * * * **

• *. * * ** * * * * * * # - - NATIONAL IDANCES. 17 held by the presence of Plato from dancing at an entertainment of Dionysius the Tyrant. It was reckoned among the merits of Epaminondas, as his historian relates, that he had a peculiar talent for music and dancing; and history has preserved the name Palliphron, as that of the dancing master of this great man. Scipio Afri canus, after the example of these great men, was not ashamed of learning and practising an animated and withal a grave dance; nor did his dignity and manliness at all suffer thereby in the opinion of the Romans. * Among the Lacedemonians, according to

Lucian, a dance concluded all the other sports ** . or exercises; for then a player on the flute, placing himself in the midst of them, began the festal chorus, playing and dancing, and they followed him with a thousand postures, expres *** “sive of war and love. The song itself borrowed ** its name from Venus and from love, as if those divinities had been of the party.—Thence it is evident, that anciently the Greeks in their * - dances - * accompanied * * - them *... with . . singing, • * * and * . thi S is what the Greeks practise to this day. # * * * * *, 2 *:

- - * * * - * .* Athenaeus speaks of the ancient Hyporchematic dance,

* * * *: * C ** s

* - * • * 18 ART OF DANCING .

Of the dance of the Wine-press the descrip tion may be seen in the pastorals of Longinus.

The Ionian dances, in the original of their institution, had nothing but what was decent and modest; but their movements became in time so depraved as to be employed in express ing nothing but voluptuousness. One of these was performed chiefly when warm with wine: and yet it was to a higher measure and more regular than the others.

The latter of these is, at this day, danced in duetto, by a man and woman, at Smyrna, and in all Asia Minor. A recent traveller says: there is no reason to conclude that all the an cient features of the Grecian dance have been entirely laid aside. One of them is certainly re tained in every part of Greece; namely, that characteristic of ancient dancing, which is con nected with the origin of the exercise itself, and of a nature forcibly opposed to all our ideas of decency and refinement. The most discreet so called because the Greeks, and especially the Lacedemo nians, danced it to the verses they sung, the men and women holding each other by the hand. The Greeks, at this day, have tunes and words made for these kinds of dances. NATIONAL DANCES. 19 females of Modern Greece, practising what they conceive to be the highest accomplishment of the art, deem it to be no degradation of the virtues which they certainly possess, when they exhibit movements and postures of the body expressing, in our eyes, the grossest licentiousness. Possi bly it may have been from observing such viola tions of decorum, that some travellers, in their accounts of the country, have calumniated the Grecian women, by imputing to them a general want of chastity. Yet there is no reason to believe that any charge of this nature has been deservedly bestowed.

Nor is this perhaps the only dance of this second kind which still remains. Another dance, called the Apaix, of a different descrip tion from the former, is performed by a female, and is uncommonly elegant. I saw it, says a traveller, danced by an Athenian lady. She began very slowly, walking round the room to a measured step, with her eyes fixed on the ground and her hands placed on her sides. She gradually quickened the time, still preserving the same figure. She then threw herself into a variety of the most beautiful attitudes, chang ing continually the position of the arms, which C 2 20 ART OF DANCING.

were sometimes placed on her sides, sometimes on her head, or waved about at random with much grace and elegance.

I was present, says Dr. Chandler, at a very laborious single dance, of the mimic species, in a field near Sadicui, in Asia Minor; a goatherd. assuming, to a tune, all the postures and atti tudes of which the human body seemed capable, with a rapidity hardly credible.

III. Of the third kind of dancing -- the SoLEMN DANCEs, we may observe, that among the ancients there were no festivals, no solem nities that were not accompanied with songs and dances. It was not held possible to cele brate any mystery, or to be initiated without the intervention of these two arts. In short, they were looked upon to be essential in these kinds of ceremonies, that to express the crime of such as were guilty of revealing the sacred mysteries, they employed the word kheista, to be out of the dance.

The most ancient of these religious dances is the Bacchic dance, which was not only con secrated to Bacchus, but to all the deities,

-*:------amma" f

NATIONAL DANCES. 21

whose festival was celebrated with a kind of

enthusiasm. - -

In all the festivals of which those heathen deities were the objects, their respective praises were sung, and those dances withal executed which represented the most striking particulars of their history. They danced at them, the triumph of Bacchus; at the nuptials of Vulcan, and at those of Pales. The young women dis played their charms in the festivals of Adonis; and they danced the loves of Diana and Endy mion, the flight of Daphne, the judgment of Paris, and Europa trembling on the waves, under the care of the love of Jove. The ges tures, steps, movements, and airs, expressed all these situations.

Euripides makes Admetus say, when order ing a festival entertainment, that the public dances should make a part of it. That orbi cular chorus,” which sung the dithyrambics, and danced to the singing of this kind of hymn to the honour of Bacchus, sometimes with the hands at liberty, sometimes with the hands joined,

* Eyxux?uo; yopop. * 22 ART OF DANCIN G.

, begun with dancing round the altars. This chorus was afterwards placed on the theatre; when still preserving its office of singing and dancing, itself made a considerable part of the drama. 3%

Since the fall of the Grecian theatre, these detached choruses have been nothing more than circular dances which the Greeks have all pre served. Sometimes they dance to their songs, sometimes to the sound of a kind of lyre, some times with hands free, at others, with hands joined. But this is no longer round the altar of Bacchus, or of the other deities of their fore fathers, but round some old oak, under the shade of which, in their most solemn religious festivals, the head crowned with flowers, they renew the ancient orgies, and abandon, them selves to the like excesses.

In the present dances of the Grecian young

* In the ancient authors we read frequently of the Greeks dancing in a round. The Thyades, says Pausanias, are Attie women, who, with other women from Delphos, go every year to the mount Parnassus, and both, in their way thither, and at Penopea, dance altogether a circular dance. NATIONAL DANCES. 23 women, we at this day see, as it were, the cho ruses of the nymphs of Greece, holding each other by the hand, and dancing in the woods, or on the green. Thus is Diana poetically painted to us amidst her nymphs on the moun tains of Delos, or on the banks of Eurotas.3%

As Athens was anciently enlivened by the choruses singing and dancing in the open air, in the front of the temples of the gods, and round their altars, at the festival of Bacchus, and on their holidays; so in modern times are Greeks' frequently seen engaged in the same exercise, generally in pairs, especially on the anniversary of their saints, and often in the areas before their churches. Their common music is a large tabour and pipe, or a lyre and tympanum, or timbrel.

A grand circular dance, in which the Alba nian women join, is exhibited on certain days near the temple of Theseus; the company hold ing hands, and moving round the musicians,

* Qualis in Eurotae ripis, aut per Juga Cynthi Exercet Diana choros - Virg. Æn, lib. i. p. 592. 24 ART OF DANCIN G. the leader dancing until he is tired, when ano ther takes his place.

IV. The Greeks had also HISTORICAL DANCEs. Such is that of which Homer gives the description, invented by Dedalus for Ariadne, and which, according to that poet, Vulcan had represented on the shield of Achilles. This dance, according to tradition, was first per formed by the youths and virgins of Delos, on the return of Theseus from his successful ex pedition to Crete; and the leader of the dance was supposed to represent Ariadne. The dif ferent twinings and evolutions of the dance are meant to express the windings of the labyrinth. Callimachus has described it;

With many-twinkling feet the female band Glide o'er the marble floor, hand join'd in hand: Long flow'ry chaplets carelessly entwine Cythera's statue and her sacred shrine, Which Theseus erst from Creta's rugged shore, Amidst the rescued youths and virgius bore. They from the lab’rinth's maze, and roarings dread Of fierce Pasiphae's son in safety fled. Twin'd, Goddess, at thy feet, to lyric strain - The circling dance, and Theseus led the train.

Callimachus calls it the x', and so indeed NATIONAL DANCES. 25 does Homer, in the following beautiful descrip tion: it however answers more exactly to the modern Zverer –

“To these the glorious artist added next A varied dance, resembling that of old In Crete's broad isle, by Dedalus compos'd For bright-hair'd Ariadne. There the youths And youth-alluring maidens, hand in hand, Danc'd jocund; every maiden neat attir'd In finest linen; and the youths in vests Well-woven, glossy as the glaze of oil. These all wore garlands, and bright falchions those, Of burnish'd gold in silver trappings hung. They, with well-tutor'd step, now nimbly ran The circle, swift, as when before his wheel Seated, the potter twirls it with both hands For trial of its speed, now crossing quick They pass'd at once into each other's place. Cow PER. Mr. Haygarth thus mentions the Carlos and the Surtas. — The x', I saw danced by ten fe males. The number, however, is, I believe, un limited, and men sometimes dance it along with the women. They hold each other by the hand, and move with a slow step in a circular figure round the room. The first and second in the dance are the chief performers. The first holds the right hand of the second 26 ART OF DANCING. in her left, and extends between both hands a handkerchief, the position of which she con tinually varies. The two first are occupied in: setting to each other, but with little variety of steps. After some time, the first female resigns her place, which is taken by the second, and so on till the whole party had led in succession. The dance is tedious from its uniformity. Any variety that can be introduced, depends upon the invention of the first female. The Xoror mentioned as a dance by Homer and by Eu ripides. It was a circular dance, and hence is called x** **at", by Callimachus. It was anciently accompanied with songs.—The 2012, resembles very much the x's The only dif ference which I observed was, that the leader, instead of conducting the others always in the same figure round the room, varies it at plea sure; sometimes passing under the joined hands of the other dancers, sometimes suddenly turn ing back, &c. It is danced, as well as the x-to by men and women together.

The former, we are told, is the very image of the dance which the Candians dance at this day. The music to it is soft, and begins slow; afterwards it becomes more lively, more ani NATIONAL HDANCES, \ 27 mated; and the young woman who leads the dance, describes a number of figures and turns, of which the variety forms a very pleasing sight.

From the Candian, it is said, is derived the Greek dance, which those islanders have pre served; and to verify the comparison, it must be remembered, that this dance of Dedalus pro duced, anciently, another, which was only a more complex imitation of the same subject.

In the Greek dance, thus more intimately de scribed, the girls and young men, while per forming the same steps and the same figures, dance, at first separately; after which the two troops join, and mix so as to compose but one company of dancers in a round. Then it is that a girl leads the dance, taking a man by the hand, between whom there is soon displayed a handkerchief or a ribband, of which the couple respectively have each hold of an end. The others (and the file or row is commonly not a short one) pass and repass successively under the ribband. At first, they go rather slowly in a round, after which the conductress rolls the circle round her, after making a number of turnings and windings. The art of this female 28 ART OF DANCING.

dancer is to extricate herself from the maze, and to re-appear all on a sudden at the head of the circle, shewing in her hand, with a tri umphant air, her silken string, just as when she began the dance.

The meaning of the dance is obvious enough; but the description of it becomes still more interesting, when the history of the institution of it is correctly known.—Theseus returning from an expedition into Crete, after having de livered the Athenians from the heavy yoke of the tribute imposed upon them by the Cretans, himself the vanquisher of the Minotaur, and possessor of Ariadne, stopped at Delos. Then, after performing a solemn sacrifice to Venus, and dedicating a statue to her, which his mis tress had given him, he danced with the young Athenians a dance, which, in Plutarch's time, was still in use among the Delians, and in which the mazy turns and windings of the la byrinth were imitated. This dance was, in that country, according to Dicearchus, called The Crane. Callimachus, in his hymn on Delos, mentions this dance, and says, that Theseus, when he instituted it, was himself the leader of it. NATIONAL DANCES. 29

M. Dacier thinks it was called, at Delos, the Crane, on account of its figure, because the person who led it was at the head, and rolls and unfolds the circle, to imitate the turns and wind ings of the labyrinth ; as in a flight of cranes, there is one always seen at the head, taking the lead of the rest, who follow in a circular form. M. Meziriae, who has made remarks on this dance of the Crane, admits this appellation of it. According to Hesychius, he who led this dance, among the Delians, was called Geranulcus.

Eustachius, in the eighteenth book of the Iliad, says, that anciently the men and women danced separately, and that it was Theseus who first made to dance together the young men and girls whom he had delivered from the labyrinth, in the manner that Dedalus had taught them.

Homer (says Pausanias) compares the dances engraved by Vulcan on the shield of Achilles, to those which Dedalus had invented for Ari adne, as he knew nothing more perfect in that kind. At Cnossus, (says Pausanias in another place,) there is preserved that choral dance men tioned in the Iliad of Homer, and which Deda lus composed for Ariadne. 30 ART OF DANCING.

At this very day, then, we see in the Greek dance, Ariadne leading her Theseus. Instead of the thread, she has a handkerchief or string in her hand, of which her partner holds the other end; and under the string all the rest of the dancers pass to and fro, thridding it at pleasure. The tune and the dance begin at first with a slow measure. The figure is always circular: this is the enclosure. Afterwards the tune grows more sprightly; the turns and windings multiplying from the maze. Ariadne, now at the head, now in the rear of the dance, turns rapidly, advances, retires, bewilders and loses herself in the midst of a numerous crowd of dancers, who follow her, and describe various turns round her. Ariadne is in the midst of the maze. You would imagine her terribly per plexed how to extricate herself, when all on a sudden you see her appear, with her string in her hand at the head of the dance, which she finishes in the same form as she began it. Then it is, that one remembers with pleasure, the be wildering mazes of the labyrinth, which are the better figured, in proportion to the skill of the girl who leads the dance, and prolongs it the most with the greatest variety of turns, windings and evolutions. NATIONAL DANCES. 31

Frequently, too, the young men and girls, from being intermixed, separate, to form two dances at once: that is to say, the men dancers hold up their arms, under which girls then passing, and holding one another by the hand, dance before them, after which, they return as before, and make but one row. Is not here plainly the little band of Theseus, forming the like division? Here then is the origin of this Greek dance, Dedalus composed it at first for Ariadne, in imitation of his own famous fabric of the labyrinth, Ariadne danced it afterwards with Theseus, in memory of his happy issue out of that maze. This ancient monument has long ceased to be in existence among the Greeks, but the dance to which it gave rise, is still preserved.*

The peasants perform this dance yearly, in

*Ta inter eas restim ductans saltabis? says Demeas to Micio (in the Adelphi of Terence) by way of sneering at him, for proposing to have women-dancers at the celebration of his son's nuptials. If Madame Dacier and Donatus had seen the Greeks dance, they needed not to have been puz zled about the explanation of the passage restim ductans; it clearly appearing, that the leading the dance, and the holding the string, mean the same thing. 32 ART OF DANCING.

the street of the French convent, at the con clusion of the vintage; joining hands, and pre ceding their mules and asses, which are laden with grapes in panniers, in a very curved and intricate figure; the leader waving a hand kerchief.

The Greeks also dance the Walachian dance, which is a very ancient one in the country whence it takes its name. This dance, of which the step is always the same, and resem bles none of the other Greek dances, is pleasing enough when it is well executed, and with all the quickness of motion it requires. It may possibly have come from the Dacians, who were anciently the inhabitants of Walachia.

It was not, says Count Stolbers, till I came to ITALY, that I had any idea of the dance of the Greeks; which made a serious part of the edu cation of this noble youth.—The less lively in fant, in conformity to our manners, is early subjected to incapacitating restraint. The com mon people are too frequently injured by labour, and by contention with the angry elements; and the injuries are increased, because the rude ------––––

NATIONAL DANCEs. 33

ness of the climate increases the number of their wants, and the incessant severities of their in dustry. Those who are not enfeebled, but ren dered hardy, become stiff and unweildly: at least, if compared to the agility and animation of the south. Our bodies, less pliant, and im pelled by juices less ardent, bend slowly to the will; and do not harmonize with, do not parti cipate of the ardent soul of quick sensibility, like the playful inhabitants of these climates. Our gestures and our attitudes Inay be said to flutter, compared to the gestures and speaking attitudes of the Italians: whose every motion is a word. Not that I have seen any dances in Italy evidently intended for moral purposes; but they are full of expression, full of life, and of creative faculties; and they appear to prove that there is no exaggeration in the accounts given us of the moral attention paid to the art of dancing, and of its dignity.

“The Neapolitan girls, (says Swinburne) dance to the snapping of their fingers, and the beat of a tambourine, and whirl their petticoats about them, with greater elegance in the position, and more airiness in the flow of the drapery: strik D 34 ART OF DANCING. ing likenesses of them may be found among the paintings of Herculaneum.

“The young girls of Ischia,” says Stolberg, “have many native graces. Some of them danced to the tambourine, in the court of the house where we lived, almost every evening, a dance which is called Tarantella; because it comes from Taranto. Two people dance toge ther; never two men; seldom a man and a wo. man; but generally two women, or young girls. The tambourine, too, is always played by a woman.— This is enlivened by the singing of the girls that play. The songs they sing abound in naivaté and sensibility; and in general are the complaints of lovers; of the cruelties of the maiden beloved. The subject is never the love of woman; though it is a woman by whom the songs are sung. Thus are the fair every where flattered, by the homage of the strongest sex. The musician sings with so loud a voice, that you would rather hear her at a distance than be by her side, did not her serious and animated mien fix your attention. You imagine you be hold a priestess of Apollo, seated on the tripod; and that the music is the inspiration of the god. ------

NATIONAL DANCES. 35

No dance is so full of decorum and grace as this. The head inclining, the downcast eye, the noble dignity of mien, and the inimitable elasticity with which they move, scarcely touch ing the ground; then raising their arms, en twining them, and running the ever-changeable mazes of the dance, inspire feelings which I cannot describe.”

In SPAIN the Fandango, Bolero, &c. are na tional dances. Of the former a traveller says: “One evening ended with a ball, where we had, for the first time, the pleasure of seeing the Fan dango danced. It is odd and entertaining enough, when they execute with precision and agility all the various footings, wheeling of the arms, and cracking of the fingers; but it ex ceeds in wantonness all the dances I ever be held. Such motions, such writhings of the body and positions of the limbs, as no modest eye can look upon without a blush. A good fandango lady will stand five minutes in one spot, wriggling like a worm that has just been cut in two.”

Among the Gipsies in Spain there is another - dance, called the Manguindoy, so lascivious and D 2 36 ART OF DANCING. indecent, that it is prohibited under severe pe nalties. The tune is quite simple—little more than a constant return of the same set of notes.

“Wherever may have been the birth-place of the fandango, it is now, (says the same writer,) so thoroughly naturalized in Spain, that every Spaniard may be said to be born with it in his head and heels. I have seen a child three years of age dance it to the mother's singing, with steps and turns scarcely to be credited in an in fant of that age.”

Towards the close of the great balls given heretofore in the theatre, when all the company appeared drooping with fatigue, and over powered with sleep, it was a constant trick of the fiddlers to strike up the fandango. In an instant, as if roused from the slumbers of en chantment by the magic touch of a fairy’s wand, every body started up, and the whole house re sounded with the uproar of clapping of hands, footing, jumping, and snapping of fingers.

In GERMANY the Waltz is the national dance, of which Count Stolberg says; “Our rolling national dance cannot be said to picture the NATIONAL DANCES. 37 cmotions of the mind. It is no more than the expression of a thought, or rather of an in clination; yet it is expression; and therefore more animated than the cold English dance; and more natural than the capricious, regu lated mazes of the French ; which kind of dance, in reality, is as void of meaning as the English. Nor has it much more animation; though it has more of the imitation, the ap pearance of mirth; and this imitation commu nicates the semblance of jocularity to youth. Variety, precision, and the soul of expression, are not discoverable by me in any of these dances.” Nothing can be juster. :

Of the dances of Scotland much might be said,

In The Introduction to the History of Great Britain and Ireland, by Mr. Macpherson, his remark on the Phyrric dance of the Greeks having obtained among the Celtic nations, is

very interesting. , - - - - -

“That species of dancing (says he) which the Greeks distinguished by the name of the Pyr rhic, was an universal amusement among the 38 ART of DANCING.

Celtic nations. A number of young men, in complete armour, rushed in suddenly before the guests, at a certain period of the warlike music, danced with great agility, and kept time by striking their swords against their shields.” When the spectators were for a short time amused with this shew, the music suddenly changed, the armed dancers disappeared with a shout of war, and a band of young women entered, tripping hand in hand to a merry air.t They too, at a certain period of the music, va nished at once; the young men entered again, as if engaged in action, and to the sound of the accomanying instrument exhibited all the in cidents of a real battle.”:

•Gilly Callum is evidently a remnant of this; and it is surprising, that the Highland Society should neglect this subject.

Another analogy of Scottish dancing is to be

* Xenophon Exped. Cyrus. Book VI. – + Mulieres etiam saltant, una alteram manu tenentes.

Strab. lib. iii. - # Xenophon Exp. Cyrus. Lib. VI. NATIONAL DANCES. 39 found among an eastern people—the Circassians. “During our stay in the camp,” says a traveller, “on the banks of the Backvan, I had an oppor tunity of seeing the national dance of the Cir cassians performed with much agility, by one of their young princes. Several natives placed themselves in a row, and beat the time' by clapping their hands, and incessantly repeating . the syllables A-ri-ra-ri-ra, the two last of which were chanted a tone deeper, and continually in two divisions of time. The dancer stood in an opposite direction, but his motions were con fined to the spot: holding up his long garment behind with both hands, and frequently bend ing his body rather low, in order to watch the movements of his feet: with these he made every possible inflection and figure, according to musical time, much resembling the national dance of the Scotch, while he skipped about in: a triangle, with his toes almost perpendicular; a performance which must have been the more difficult, as the slippers he wore were not pro vided with stiff soles. The juvenile dancer, at the same time, shouted, in a plaintive voice, as if he underwent severe flagellation,

Of the teachers of dancing, who have dis 40 ART OF DANCING. tinguished themselves in England, we need say little. Were we to enumerate all our capital dancers for these hundred years past, who were complete masters, they would bear as small a proportion to the pretenders in this art as a unit does to a hundred. The best were, Fossan, Dupré, - Lany, Westris, Noverre, Slingsby, and one or two others; all of them fine-made men, and fit for their business. As women, we just mention the Aurettis, Campignioni, Camargo, and three or four more, who were possessed of those requisites which constitute excellent dan cers. These were ranked amongst the first class; but we have had a hundred for each of these, who assumed the name of masters most unworthily. ART OF DANCING. 41

THE ART OF DANCING, &c.

CANTO I. IN the smooth dance, to move with gracefulmien, Easy with care, and sprightly tho' serene; To mark th’ instructions echoing strains convey, And with just steps, each tuneful note obey, I teach: Be present, all ye sacred Choir; Blow the soft flute, and strike the sounding lyre: When BURToN* bids, your kind attention bring, And at her feet the lowly tribute fling: Oh! may her eyes (to her this verse is due,) What first themselves inspir'd, vouchsafe to view:

Hail, loveliest art! that can'st all hearts ensnare, And make the fairest still appear more fair: Beauty can little execution do, Unless she borrows half her arms from you. Few, like Pygmalion, doat on lifeless charms, Or care to clasp a statue in their arms:

* Lady E. C. 42 ART OF DANCING

But breasts of flint must melt, with fierce desire, When art and motion wake the sleeping fire. A Venus, drawn by great Apelle's hand, May, for a while, our wond'ring eyes command; But still, tho' form'd with all the pow'rs of art, The lifeless piece can never warm the heart; So a fair Nymph, perhaps, may please the eye, Whilst all her beauteous limbs inactive lie; But when her charms are in the dance display'd, Then ev'ry heart adores the lovely maid; This sets her beauty in the fairest light, And shews each grace in full perfection bright. Then as she turns around, from ev’ry part, Like porcupines, she sends a piercing dart. In vain, alas! the fond spectator tries To shun the pleasing dangers of her eyes; For, Parthian like, she wounds as sure behind, With flowing curls and ivory neck reclin'd; Whether her step the Minuet's mazes trace, Or the slow Louvre's more majestic pace; Whether the Cotillon employs her care, Or sprightly jig display the nimble fair; At ev'ry step, new beauties we explore, And worship now, what we admir’d before. So when AEneas, in the Tyrian grove, Fair Venus met, the charming queen of Love; The beauteous Goddess, whilst unmov’d she stood, Seem’d some fair Nymph, the guardian of the wood; But when she moves, at once her heav'nly mien, And graceful step confess bright Beauty's queen; New glories o'er her form, each moment rise, And all the Goddess flashes on his eyes.

Now haste, my Muse, pursue thy destin’d way: What dresses best become the dancer say; ART OF DANCING, 43

The rules of dress forget not to impart, A lesson previous to the dancing art. The soldiers’ scarlet, glowing from afar, Shews that his bloody occupation’s war; Whilst the lawn band, beneath a double chin, As plainly speaks divinity within; The milkmaid safe, thro' driving rains and snows, Wrapp'd in her cloak and propp'd on pattens goes; While the soft belle, immur'd in velvet chair, Needs but the silken shoe, and trusts her bosom bare; The woolly drab, and English broad cloth warm, Guard well the horseman from the beating storm; But load the dancer with too great a weight, And every pore pours forth the dewy heat; Rather let him his active limbs display In cashmire thin, and glossy paduasay; Let no unwieldy pride his shoulders press, But airy, light, and easy be his dress; Thin be his yielding sole, and low his heel, So shall he nimbly bound and safely wheel.

And now ye youthful fair, I sing to you; With pleasing smiles my useful labours view: For you the silk-worms fine-wrought webs display, And lab’ring spin their little lives away; - For you bright gems with radiant colours glow, Fair as the dyes that paint the heav'nly how; For you the sea resigns its pearly store, And earth unlocks her mines of treasur'd ore: In vain yet Nature, thus, her gifts bestows, Unless yourselves with taste those gifts dispose. Yet think not, Nymphs, that in the glitt'ring ball, One form of dress prescrib'd is fit for all: One brightest shines, when wealth and art combine - To make the finish’d whole completely fine. 44. ART OF DANCIN G.

When least adorn’d another steals our hearts, And, rich in native beauties, wants not arts. In some are such resistless graces found, That in all dresses they are sure to wound: Their perfect forms all foreign aids despise, And gems but borrow lustre from their eyes. Let the fair Nymph, in whose plump cheek is seen A constant blush, be clad in cheerful green : In such a dress the sportive sea-nymphs go; So, in their grassy beds, fresh roses blow. The maid whose skin is like the hazel brown, With brighter yellow should o'ercome her own: While maids, grown pale with sickness and despair, The sable's mournful dye should chuse to wear. So the pale moon still shines with purest light, Cloath'd in the dusky mantle of the night.

But far from you be all those treach'rous arts That wound, with painted charms, unwary hearts; Dancing's a touchstone, that true beauty tries, Nor suffers charms, which nature's hand denies. Though for a while, we may, with wonder view The rosy blush, and skin of lovely hue, Yet soon the dance will cause the cheeks to glow, And melt the waxen lips and neck of snow. So shine the fields, in icy fetters bound; Whilst frozen gems bespangle all the ground: Thro' the clear crystal of the glitt'ring snow, With scarlet dye, the blushing hawthorns glow: O'er all the plains unnumber'd glories rise, A new and bright creation charms our eyes; Till Zephyr breathes, then all at once decay The splendid scenes; their glories fade away; ART OF DANCING. 45

The fields resign the beauties not their own, And all their snowy charms run trickling down.

Dare I in such momentous points advise, I should condemn the Jupe's enormous size. Nor should the well made stays, too straightly lac'd, In whalebone bondage, gall the slender waist; Nor waving ribbons should the dancing fair, Nor ruffles, edg'd with dangling fringes wear. Oft will the cobweb ornaments catch hold On the approaching button, rough with gold; Nor force nor art can then the bonds divide, When once the puzzling Gordian Knot is ty'd; So the unhappy pair, by Hymen's power, Together join'd in some ill-fated hour, The more they strive their freedom to regain, The faster binds th’ indissoluble chain :

Let each fair maid, who fears to be disgrac'd, Be ever sure to tye her garters fast, Lest the loos'd string, amidst the public ball, A wish'd-for prize, to some proud coxcomb fall, Who the rich treasure shall triumphant shew, And, with warm blushes, cause her cheeks to glow. But yet, as fortune, by the self-same ways, She humbles many, some delights to raise; It happen'd once, a fair illustrious dame, By such neglect acquir'd immortal fame; And hence the radiant Star and Garter blue, Britannia's noble grace, if Fame says true; Hence still Plantagenet thy beauties bloom, | Though long since moulder'd in the dusky tomb, Whilst thy lost Garter is thy Sovereign's care, And what each royal breast is proud to wear. 46 ART OF DANCING.

Butlet me next my lovely charge remind, Lest they, forgetful, leave their fans behind. Lay not, ye fair, the pretty toy aside; A toy at once display'd for use and pride; A wond’rous engine, that, by magic charms, Cools your own breasts, and every other's warms. What daring bard shall e'er attempt to tell The pow'rs that in this little weapon dwell; What verse can e'er explain its various parts; Its mum'rous uses, motions, charms, and arts? Its painted folds, that oft, extended wide, Th' afflicted fair one's weeping beauties hide, When secret sorrows her sad bosom fill, * If Strephon is unkind, or Shock is ill; . . . Its sticks, on which her eyes dejected pore, And pointing fingers number o'er and o'er, When the kind virgin burns with secret shamé, Dies to consent, yet fears to own her flame; It shakes triumphant its victorious clasp, Its angry flutter, and its wanton tap *

Forbear, my Muse, the extensive theme to sing, Nor trust in such a flight thy tender wing. Rather do you in humble lines proclaim, From what this engine took its form and name; Say from what cause it first derived its birth, How form'd in heaven, how thence deduc’d to earth. Once in Arcadia, that fam'd seat of love, There lived a Nymph, the pride of all the grove, A lovely Nymph, adorn'd with ev'ry grace, An easy shape and sweetly blooming face; FANNY, the damsel's name, as chaste as fair, Each virgin's envy, and each swain's despair. To charm her ear the rival shepherds sing, Blow the soft flute, and wake the trembling string. ART OF DANC ING. 47

For her they ieave their wand'ring flocks to rove, Whilst FANNY’s name resounds thro’ ev'ry grove, And spreads on ev'ry tree, inclos'd in knots of love, As BURToN's now, her eyes all hearts inflame; Like her in beauty, as alike in name. 'Twas when the summer sun, now mounted high, With fiercer beams had scorched the glowing sky, Beneath the covert of a cooling shade, To shun the heat, this lovely Nymph was laid; The sultry weather o'er her cheeks had spread A blush, that added to their native red; And her fair breast, as polished marble white, Was half concealed and half exposed to sight; AEolus, the rude god whom winds obey, Observed the beauteous maid, as thus she lay; O'er all her charms he gazed with fond delight, Imbibing poison from the dang'rous sight; He sighs, he burns, at last declares his pain; But still he sighs, and still he woes in vain. The cruel Nymph, regardless of his moan, Minds not his flame, uneasy with her own; But still complains that he, who rul'd the air, Wou'd not command one Zephyr to repair Around her face, nor gentle breeze to play Thro' the dark glade, to cool the sultry day. By love incited, and the hopes of joy, The ingenious god contrived this pretty toy, ... • With gales incessant to relieve her flame,

And call'd it Fan from lovely FANNY’s name ! - 48 ART OF DANCING.

ART OF DANCING, $g.

CANTO II. Now see, prepar'd to lead the sprightly dance, The lovely Nymphs and well dressed youths advance; The spacious room receives each joyful guest, And the floor shakes with pleasing weight opprest. Thick rang'd, on every side, with various dyes, The fair, in glossy silks, our sight surprize. So in a garden, bath'd with genial show'rs, A thousand sorts of variegated flowers: Jonquils, carnations, pinks and tulips rise; And in a gay confusion charm our eyes. High o'er their heads, with num’rous candles bright, Large sconces shed their sparkling beams of light; Their sparkling beams, that still more brightly glow Reflected back from gems, and eyes below; Unnumber'd fans, to cool the crouded fair, With breathing Zephyrs agitate the air. The sprightly fiddle, and the sounding lyre, Each youthful breast with gen’rous warmth inspire;

* ART or DANCING. , 49

Fraught with alljoys the blissful moments fly, Whilst melts the ear, and beauty charms the eye. Now let the youth, to whose superior place It first belongs the splendid ball to grace, With polished bow and ready hand prepare, Forth from the crowd to lead his chosen fair: Nor let the maid his kind request deny, But to the pleasing toil with ardour fly: Yet pause awhile, nor thus untaught advance; First hear the Muse, ere you attempt to dance.

By art directed, o'er the foaming tide, Secure from rocks the painted vessels glide; By art, the courser scours the dusty plain, Springs at the whip, and owns the strait'ning rein; To art our bodies must obedient prove, If e'er we hope with graceful ease to move. Long was the dancing-ait unfix’d and free, Hence lost in error and uncertainty: . No precept did it mind, no rules obey, But ev'ry master taught a diff'rent way; Hence ere each new-born dance was fully try'd, The lovely product e'en in blooming died. Thro' various hands, in wild confusion tost, Its steps were alter'd, and its beauties lost; Till VEsTRIs, pride of flighty Gallia, rose, And did the dance in characters compose: Each lovely grace, by certain marks he taught, And ev'ry step in lasting volumes wrote. Hence o'er the world this pleasing art shall spread, And ev'ry dance in ev'ry clime be read; By distant masters shall each step be seen, Tho' mountains rise, and oceans roar between. Hence with her sister arts shall Dancing claim An equal right to universal fame; E 5 0 ART OF DANCING.

And Spencer's Cotillon shall live as long As Raphael's painting, or as Virgil's song.

Wise Nature ever, with a prudent hand, Dispenses various gifts to ev'ry land; To ev’ry nation frugally imparts

A genius fit for some peculiar arts. - To trade the Dutch incline, the Swiss to arms; Music and verse are soft Italia's charms; Britannia justly glories to have found Lands unexplor d, and sail'd the globe all round; But none will sure presume to rival France, Whether she forms or executes the dance.” To her inventive genius we owe The sprightly Cotillon and Louvre slow; The gay Quadrille and Waltz unpractis'd long; Th’ immortal Minuet, and the smooth Bretagne; With all those dances, of illustrious fame, Which own their native country in their name, With these let ev'ry ball be first begun, Nor country-dance intrude till these are done. Each cautious bard, ere he attempts to sing, First, gently flutt'ring, tries his tender wing, And if he finds, that, with uncommon fire, The Muses all his raptur'd soul inspire,

- At once to heav'n he soars in lofty odes, - And sings alone of heroes and of gods; But, if he trembling, fears a flight so high, He then descends to softer elegy: And, if in elegy he can’t succeed, He still in pastoral may tune the reed;

* A very different opinion has lately grown up.-At all events our poet certainly errs in ascribing the -invention of the Waltz to

France. - ART of DANCING. 5 |

So should the dancer, ere he tries to move, With care his strength, his weight, and genius prove; Then, if he find kind nature's gifts impart Endowments proper for the dancing art; If in himself he feels, together join'd, An active body and ambitious mind, In nimble Cotillons he may advance, Or in the Louvre's slow majestic dance. If these he fears to reach, with easy pace, Let him the Minuet's circling mazes trace. Is this too hard? this too let him forbear, And to the Country-dance confine his care.

Would you, in dancing, ev'ry fault avoid, To keep true time be your first thoughts employ'd. All other errors they in vain shall mend, Who in this one important point offend. For this, when now united hand in hand, Eager to start the youthful couple stand, Let them, a while, their nimble feet restrain, And, with soft taps, beat time to ev'ry strain; So for the race prepar'd, two coursers stand And, with impatient pawings, spurn the sand. .

In vain a master shall employ his care, When nature once has fix’d a clumsy air. Rather let such, to country sports confin'd, Pursue the flying hare, or thm’rous hind. Nor yet while I the rural squire despise, A mien effeminate would I advise. With equal scorn I would the fop deride, Nor let him dance,—but on the female side!

And you, fair Nymphs, avoid, with equal care, A stupid dulness, and a coquette air. E 2 52 ART of DANcING.

Neither with eyes, that ever love the ground, Asleep, like spinning tops, run round and round; Nor yet, with giddy looks, and wanton pride, Stare all around, and skip from side to side.

True dancing, like true wit, is best exprest, By nature only, to advantage drest. 'Tis not a nimble bound or caper high, That can pretend to please a curious eye;

Good judges no such tumbler's tricks regard, w Or think them beautiful because they're hard. 'Tis not enough that every stander by No glaring errors in your steps descry; The dance and music must so nicely meet, Each note should seem an echo to your feet. A nameless grace must in each movement dwell, Which words can ne'er express, nor precepts tell; Not to be taught, but ever to be seen In MIRA's air, and ANNA's easy mien. 'Tis such an air that makes her thousands fall, When BURToN dances at a birth-night ball; Smooth as CAMILLA she skims o'er the plain, And flies, like her, through crowds of heroes slain :

Now when the Minuet, oft repeated o'er, Like all terrestrial joys, can please no more, And ev'ry Nymph, refusing to expand Her charms, declines the circulating hand; Then let the jovial Country Dance begin, And the loud fiddles call each straggler in. But ere they come, permit me to disclose How first, as legends tell, this pastime rose. In ancient times, (such times are now no more!) When Albion's crown illustrious Arthur wore, ART OF DANCING. 53

In some fair op'ning glade, each summer's night, Where the pale moon diffus'd her silver light, On the soft carpet of the grassy field, The sporting fairies their assemblies held: Some lightly tripping with their pigmy queen, In circling ringlets mark'd the level green: Some, with soft notes, bade mellow pipes pesound, And music warble thro’ the groves around. Oft lonely shepherds, by the forest side, Belated peasants oft, their revels spy'd, And home returning o'er their nut-brown ale, - Their guests diverted with the wond’rous tale. Instructed hence, throughout the British isle, And fond to imitate the pleasing toil, Round where the trembling may-poles fix’d on high, And bears its flow'ry honors to the sky, The ruddy maids and sun-burnt swains resort, And practice, ev’ry night, the much lov’d sport: On ev'ry side AEolian artists stand, Whose active elbows swelling winds command, The swelling winds harmonious pipes inspire, And blow in ev'ry breast a gen’rous fire. Thus taught, at first, the Country-dance began, And hence to cities and to courts it ran: Succeeding ages did in time impart Improvements various to the lovely art; From fields and groves to palaces remov’d, The great, the pleasing exercise approv’d: Hence the loud fiddle, and shrill trumpet's sounds Are made companions of the dancer's bounds: Hence gems and silks, brocades, and ribbons join, To make the ball with perfect lustre shine. So the rude Tragic Muse at first appeared, Her voice alone by rustic rabble heard: 54 AJRT OF DANCING,

Where twisting trees a cooling arbour made, The pleas'd spectators sat beneath the shade: The homely stage with rushes green was strew'd, And in a cart the strolling actors rode; Till time at length improv'd the great design, And bade the scenes with painted landscapes shine. Then art did all the right machines dispose, And theatres of Parian marble rose: Then mimic thunders shook the canvas sky, And gods descended from their towers on high !

With caution, now, let ev'ry youth prepare To choose a parther from the mingled fair. Wain wou'd be here th' instructing Muse's voice, If she pretended to direct his choice: Beauty, alone, by fancy is exprest, And charms, in diff'rent forms, each diff'rent breast. A snowy skin this am’rous youth admires, The nut-brown cheek anothers bosom fires; Small waists, and slender limbs, some hearts ensnare; Whilst others love the more substantial fair. Your reason, rather than your eyes, obey: And in the dance, as in the marriage tie, Rather to merit, than to beauty, fly. Be her your choice, who knows with perfect skill, When she should move, and when she should be still: Who, uninstructed, can perform her share, - * And kindly half the pleasing burthen bear. Unhappy is that hopeless wretch's fate, Who, fetter'd in thematrimonial state, With a poor, simple, inexperienc'd wife, Is forc'd to lead the tedious dance of life: And such is his, with such a partner join'd, A moving puppet, but without a mind: ------

ART OF DANCING. 55

Still must his hand be pointing out the way, Yet ne'er can teach so fast as she can stray. Beneath her follies he must ever groan, And ever blush for errors not his own,

But now behold united hand in hand, Rang'd on each side, the well-pair'd couples stand, Each youthful bosom, beating with delight, Waits the brisk signal for the pleasing sight; While lovely eyes, that flash unusual rays, And snowy bosoms, rising o'er the stays, Quick busy hands, and bridling heads declare The fond impatience of the starting fair.

And see, the sprightly dance is now begun : Now here, uow there, the giddy maze they run. Now, with slow steps, they pace the circling ring; Now, all confus'd, too swift for sight, they spring:

So, in a wheel, with rapid fury tost, * The undistinguish’d spokes are in the motion lost.

The dancer here no more requires a guide; To no strict steps his nimble feet are ty'd : The Muse's precepts here would useless be, Where all is fanci’d, unconfin’d and free. Let him but to the music's voice attend : By this instructed he can ne'er offend. If to his share it falls the dance to lead, In well-known paths he may be sure to tread. If others lead, let him their motions view, And in their steps the winding maze pursue. In ev'ry Country Dance a serious mind, Form'd for reflection, can a moral find. * In Hunt-the-Squirrel, thus, the Nymph we view, Seek when we fly, but fly when we pursue: 56 ART OF DANCING.

Thus in Round-Dances, where our partners change, And unconfin'd, from fair to fair we range, As soon as one from his own consort flies,' Another seizes on the lovely prize: A while the fav'rite youth enjoys her charms, Till the next comer steals her from his arms. New ones succeed, the last is still her care: How true an emblem of th’ inconstant fair.

Where can philosophers profoundly wise, Who read the glorious volumes of the skies, A model more exact, than dancing, name Of the creation's universal frame? Where worlds unnumber'd o'er th' etherial way, In regular confusion brightly stray: Now here, now there, they whirl along the sky; Now near approach, and now far distant fly: Now meet in the same order they begun, Till thus the great celestial dance is done.

Where can the Mor'list find a juster plan Of the vain labours, and the life of man? A while thro' jostling crowds we toil and sweat, And eagerly pursue we know not what; And when our trifling short liv'd-race is run, Sit down exhausted, just where we begun.

Tho' to your arms kind fate's indulgent care Has giv'n a partner, exqusitively fair, Let not her beauties so engage your heart, That you neglect the skilful dancer's part. Be not, when you the tuneful notes shall hear, Still whisp ring idle nonsense in her ear. When you should be employ'd, be not at play, Nor, for your joys, all other's steps delay;. ART OF DANCING. 57

But when the sprightly dance you once have done, And with applause thro’ ev'ry couple run, There rest a while, there snatch the fleeting bliss, The tender whisper, and the balmykiss. Each secret wish, each softer hope confess, And her soft palm with eager fingers press: With smiles the fair shall hear your warm desires, When music melts her soul, and dancing fires. Thus mix'd with love, the pleasing toil pursue, "Till the unwelcome morn appears in view. Then, when approaching day its beams displays, And the dull candles shine with fainter rays, Then, when the sun just rises o'er the deep, And each bright eye is almost set in sleep, With ready hands, obsequious youth, prepare, Safe to her coach to lead each chosen fair, And guard her from the morn's inclement air. Let a warm scarf enwrap her lovely head, And o'er her neck a handkerchief be spread. Around her shoulders let this arm be cast, Whilst that from cold defends her slender waist. With kisses warm her balmy lips shall glow, Unohill'd by nightly damps, or wintry show.

Thus thro’ each precept of the dancing art, The Muse has play'd the kind instructor's part:

Thro’ ev'ry maze her pupils she has led, - And pointed out the surest paths to tread. No more remains: no more the goddess sings, But drops her pinions, and unfurls her wings.

On downy beds the weary'd dancers lie, And sleep's silk cords tie down each eye. . 58 THE ART of DANCING.

Delightful dreams their pleasing sports restore, And e'en in sleep they seem to dance once more. . And now the work completely finish’d lies, Which the devouring teeth of time defies, Whilst birds in air, or fish in streams we find, Or damsels fret with aged partners join'd, As long as Nymphs shall with attentive ear A fiddle, rather than a sermon hear; So long the brightest eyes shall oft peruse The useful lines of my instructive Muse: Each belle shall wear them written on her fan, And Modern Beaux shall read them,-if they can. DIRECTIONs

FOR THE - ACQUISITION OF A GRACEFUL AIR AND DEPORTMENT,

AND JPOR THE

REMEDY OF NATURAL AND OF ACQUIRED DEFECTS.

->

I. OF A GRACEFUL AIR AND DEPoRTMENT.

It has been universally allowed, that dancing is one of the most useful accomplishments of which a well-bred person can be possessed. No gentleman, or lady, can be said to be qualified for a court, an assembly, or even for any form of public life, without some knowledge of this art. A man, or woman, cannot even walk, with any degree of grace, without having, at least, the rudiments of Dancing; by which we do not mean to imply mere figure, or steps only; but that graceful deportment which proceeds from having been properly educated, and being entirely divested of affectation. 60 ART OF DAN CING.

On this subject, we shall first avail ourselves of the excellent observations of Gallini.—

“Among the advantages aimed at in making the art of dancing a part of genteel education, that of its improving the natural graces may be justly considered as the capital one. The bare teaching the execution of the steps, with the due attention to the music, and to the figure or lines traced by the composition of the dance, is, though a necessary part of the art, a very inferior one to the indispensable concomitant of those points, the learning withal a noble and distin

guishing air or port of the person. -

Than this air or port, rightly understood, no thing is more remote from affectation; and where there is no affectation, there can be no just ridicule.

The object of dancing, then, is not to stiffen the carriage or air of a person, but to give or improve the suppleness of the motions of the body, and thereby to preserve or infuse the graces of ease, so as to give a sort of heightening to the charms of native simplicity; and this habit, owing its rise to the tendency of nature DIRECTIONS FOR DEPORTMENT. 61 to perfection, is to be contracted with more ease than a bad one, if such a right habit is pro perly taught and attended to.

Lord Herbert of Cherbury says, “That dancing may be learned first, as that which doth fashion the body, gives one a good presence in and ad dress to all companies, since it disposeth the limbs to a kind of souplesse (as the French call it) and agility, insomuch as they seem to have the use of their legs, arms, and bodies, more than any others, who standing stiff and stark in their postures, seem as if they were taken in their joints, or had not the perfect use of their mem bers. I speak not this yet, as if I would have a youth never stand still in a company, but only that when he hath occasion to stir, his motions may be comely and graceful; that he may learn how to come in and go out of a room where company is; how to make curtesies* hand somely, according to the several degrees of per sons he shall encounter; how to put off, and hold his hat; all which, and many other things which become men, are taught by the more accurate dancing masters in France.”—There is

* Bows, obeisances, or civilities, from Cortesia, civility. 62 ART OF DANCING.

in this recommendation the more force, from its being preceded by a confession that himself had not learned the art of dancing, purely for “want

of leisure.” -

Of how many captivating graces is not the deportment susceptible, where a proper care is taken of improving the gifts of nature? And in what does a graceful deportment consist, but in holding up the head without stiffness, and keeping the body upright without affectation?

Ease in the various attitudes; a gay, modest and open countenance; a firm assured gait without heaviness, light or airy without inde cency or precipitation; a certain flexibility in the limbs, a muscular agility, for the readily taking all the characters, or making all the movements requisite for expressing a due re gard to one's company; to all these the body of man has from its very infancy so natural a dis position, that there is nothing more than a mo derate cultivation needful to accomplish one in them, joined with a little of habit 3nd attention to keep them up.

When once an habit of easy dignity, with an DIRECTIONS FOR DEPORTMENT. 63 unaffected air of portliness, has been sufficiently familiarised, it will constantly shew itself in every even the most indifferent gesture or action of the possessor, and only the more so, for his being himself unconscious and insensible of it. Does he come into a room ? His air immedi ately strikes the company in his favor, and gives a prepossessing idea to his advantage. He will then have nothing to do but to keep up the im pression he will have made.

Should a person even not have been favored by nature with the happiest of figures, it is still in his power, if not totally to cure that defect, at least greatly to mend it, by the acquisition of such a noble or graceful air, as may give all possible advantage to his appearance and demeanor, and in some measure atone for the injuries of nature,

But how great, how cruel an injustice do young gentlemen do to themselves, who not only favoured by distinguished birth, but withal by a most regular figure, lose, or at least greatly lessen the effect of those advantages, by a gross and unpardonable neglect of their manner of deportment, or gait, or carriage? 64 - ART OF DANCING,

Some you will see with an ignoble slouch; others distorting their neck or body; others turning their toes inward; some again with an aukward management of all their limbs; and many with these and other defects all at once, not knowing how to walk, to sit, to stand, or do any one action of life with grace or propriety. Speak to them, they answer either with a booby bashfulness, or worse yet, with a forward index cent pertness. Ask them to sit down, some will just stick themselves on the corner of the chair; others leaning on the back of it as if glewed to it. If a bow is to be made, it is with scraping, or with shaking the head, or throwing it in your face. If a courtesy, the young, untutored lady, hangs her head, and makes her obeisance with her eyes fixed on the ground, or pokes out her head, sticking back her arms, like one of the figures in Hogarth's dance. Their gait in walk ing is conformable to all this; disagreeable and Insightly.

But if such are the disadvantages of neglected improvement in fine and even amiable persons, how much must bad be made still worse, where the natural defects and imperfections of those to NATIONAL DANCES. 65 whom nature may have been less kind, are left to themselves without care or correction.

It is then of great moment to inspire a just idea of the importance of acquiring a distinguished air and deportment, into the earliest youth, at that season of life, when they seize every lesson with the greatest vivacity, and when every lesson makes the strongest and most durable impres sion on their tender minds. Then it is, in the very dawn of their reason, which it is so indis pensable a duty for those who have the care of their education, to watch and to improve, that not only in this, but in other points, it will be expedient to apply to that innate pride, which by giving to it a proper direction, and by fixing it on great or noble objects, becomes even a virtue.

Nor can it well be called an exaggeration to reckon among the noble objects of education, that of putting a youth into the way of giving the utmost value to his personal figure, not only by the improvement of his air and deportment, but by inculcating to him the useful truth, that even an opinion of the elevation of the under standing, is in a great measure regulated by the appearance, or exterior air and carriage of the F

2. 66 ART OF DANCING. person, because the latter is in a great measure

its effect and its sign. -

To whom can it be unknown, that all that power of gesture which Demosthenes considered as the principal point in oratory, principally de pends on the acquisition of a proper air, and commandingness of aspect, combined with a pro priety of gesture and action ? How justly does La Bruyere observe, that a fool cannot sit down like a man of sense !

It would, I confess, be ridiculous to say that the art of dancing, merely considered as the art of regulating the steps in a ball, could bestow that winning grace which adds such powers to the effusions of eloquence. No. But that ad vantage may, without any presumption, be justly averred to be among the probable consequences of an art, evidently tending to give grace to every gesture and dignity to every motion. It will certainly not give the sense, the know ledge which constitute the orator, and therefore in that light it can be of no service to a pretender to oratory; but where sense and knowledge really exist, it will greatly increase his powers and efficacy in the production of them to his audience. NATIONAL DANCES. 67

And even when persons, either from a natural incapacity, or from want of sufficient study, con fine themselves to silence, without pretensions to speak, their defects receive a most friendly and desirable cover from that air of politeness, of propriety of demeanour, which even dignifies silence, and does justice to the motives of it, when they are founded upon a modest conscious mess of insufficiency for attempts at oratory: an insufficiency which, not unfrequently accompa nies an excellent understanding. Nay this very air and demeanour, for the importance of the acquisition of which I am contending, has often made a silence owing to incapacity, suspected of higher motives, and rather of an excess of re serve and discretion, than a defect of abilities.

I have already observed, that youth, from its flexibility, its readiness to receive and retain the habits contracted in that happy age, is the fittest season for instruction of all kinds. And surely while nothing can be a truer axiom than that a good habit is more easily contracted than a bad one, must it not be rather a cruel neglect, to lose that time (that perhaps irretrievable time,) without the requisite cultivation and improvement of it? Then it is that nature being the most suscepti.

* * F 2 68 ART of DANCING. ble of the adventitious perfection of art, may be said to invoke its aid, to form an accomplished total: for nature can only give graces, but it is art that gives grace itself.

It is then hardly possible to recommend too much the power of this art, to assist youth in forming such a noble and distinguishing air and deportment as will give them not only that ever valuable advantage of favourable impressions, at the first sight, a prejudice not easily cancelled, but the means to preserve those impressions by a continuance of that winning air and manner which will at the first have made them—an air, that, as I have before observed, often renders even silence eloquent—an air that always implies an excellent education, and sometimes supposes a natural elevation of mind, even where it does * not always exist; though without it, such an air is rarely indeed attainable to any degree of perfection.

This air, always so valuable, and on many oc casions in life, of such infinite service to the pos sessor, can never be the produce of a moment; but, to be effectual, must be habitual. It must have been acquired by instruction, by observa NATIONAL DANCES, 69 tion, and especially by keeping the best company, among which it is constantly practised. A per son unused to it would, in vain, try to put it on for any particular occasion. The novelty of it to him, would sit awkward upon him, and the temporary affectation be too gross to pass. It would be instantly seen through, and the stiff ness with straining for it, be even ridiculous. The grace of ease can never be acted, it must have stolen into second and better nature, in virtue of a habit, contracted not to destroy the first na ture, but only to improve and embellish it. Thus the polishing of gold does not injure the colour, but adds a lustre to it,

On the other hand, a person who has once got this habit, of a noble, decent, graceful air, needs be in no fear of losing it, if he takes but the least care to keep it up. The difficulty for him would be not to shew it in his every action and gesture. He will then be at the happy point of that advantage being as natural to him as the contrary defect will be to those who shall have neglected to acquire it. .

There is nothing which regards the personal exterior that ought to be more guarded against 70 ART OF DANCING.

than a bad habit. The unconsciousness of its being, in most people, the reason for their not trying to get rid of it, those can never be the true friends, or the proper directors of youth, who do not make them sensible of their interest in attending to this point. Many indeed, blinded by partiality, do not see the fault in such as are dear to them, and are consequently the authors or causes of a neglect they will have often occa sion to repent, a prepossessing exterior being one of the master-keys to the human heart.

Nor is the instruction proper for forming the air or carriage confined to the limbs and body. The looks of a person make an essential part, as they give life and soul to the whole. They are to the whole what the sun is to a rich land scape of Claude Lorraine, where its effects de clare the presence of a luminary beyond the reach of expression in painting. A modest graceful look, with ease in the manner of car riage, irresistibly captivates. Even in the great est passions, in the greatest sallies of vivacity, that decency of look, that grace of ease should never abandon us in our actions or speech.

It is also remarkable, that the habitual tenour NATIONAL DANCES, 71

of this elegant air, this dignity of port, being once framed, it enforces all that is said with much more weight than an occasional vehe mence of tone or gesture, by fits and starts. The latter betrays too much of passion not to beget in others prejudice or indisposition; whereas, an elegance of deportment always sup poses education, carries also with it more of the air and authority of reason. In the one, oratory is too theatrical: in the other, it is more in the character of the statesman, master of his subject and of himself.

Thus a great and sublime sentiment delivered with the flow of ease, and with the grace of gesture, especially without the appearance of any affectation, or consciousness of producing any thing extraordinary, makes a ten-times greater impression than when the same senti ment is flung at the head of the hearers with violent contortions, and straining for a pathos which never comes to those who strain for it, but in a form that oftner produces derision than admiration.

Neither must that air, the acquisition of which I am recommending, ever appear to be the ef. 72 ART OF DANCIN G. fect of study. The beauty, the energy of it, is to seem something innate, and not acquired. The whole grace of it vanishes when it is per ceived to be an art. It must have been insensi bly melted into the whole frame and behaviour— a natural, not an adscititious advantage.

But the great and indispensible preliminary to the teaching a good air, must be the cure of such defects as go to the forming a bad one. Even such as are naturally incurable may, like those bodily disorders which do not admit of a thorough extirpation, be susceptible at least of mitigation and amendment. A low stature, a wry shape, a hump-back, splay or bandy-legs, which no art can well redress, may still be ren dered more tolerable or less disagreeable, by ac companying advantages of improvement of the air and manner.

The very worst of figures may be presented in less unfavourable lights; and we may justly add, that with great superiority to those graces to be acquired by good breeding, the charms of the understanding, and the virtue of the heart, will ever have a signal influence even over the exterior itself, through which it will not only be NATIONAL DANCES. 73

sensibly diffused, but carry with it also that ever desirable power of so much prepossessing others in its favour, as to absorb all the atten tion to the figure itself.

The defects, which with attention and care are absolutely not incurable, are of two kinds, derived from nature, or contracted by habit.

As to those defects proceeding from nature; as, for example, a harsh, sour, lowering counte nance, or a proud insolent air, of which the possessor may be perfectly unconscious; the friendly part to him would be, to make him, without stiffening him in such an air by offen sively remarking it to him, sensible of the dis advantage of it to his own happiness, and to the interest he has in being pleasing to society.

If such a countenance or air proceeds from a bad heart, or a constitutional depravity of the mind, the cure will be the more difficult. Otherwise (as upon conviction, the change from bad to good is an inclination of nature) it will not be very difficult to give a new cast to the looks, a new disposition to the air, gait and car 74 ART OF DANCING.' '

riage, by recommending proper models of imi tation, by shewing the possibility and means of habitually throwing into the looks a more placid serenity, and into the air and deportment a more

modest and engaging manner. -

Then, independently of the lessons of art, nothing will have more efficacy than inculcating the necessity of politeness; not that hollow un meaning, common-place politeness, the affecta tion and disguise from which are so much in vain, since they are presently seen through or felt, but that genuine and truly amiable polite ness of the heart, which gives grace to every gesture, and irresistible charms to every word or action.

As for the defects merely from bad habits, their cure is precisely like that of other bodily disorders; by contraries: and that not by offer ing sudden violence to them, but by gentle de ... grees of eradication.

Nothing is more frequent than for persons to have contracted some particular hauk of gesture, of holding or managing the hands, of sticking out the elbows, of, in short, some untoward, or NATIONAL DANCES, 75 ungraceful attitude, grown by use into second nature, and sometimes even by mere dint of mimicry.

There are some faults, too, of which the cause is so amiable, and, abstracted from them, so pleasing, that they the more require the teacher's lessons of guarding against them, or of remov ing them, where the habit of them is already contracted; such, for example, as the too com mon practice of some young ladies, who, purely from a natural disposition to chearfulness and gaiety, and without any thought of ill-nature, of censoriousness, or designed offence, will, when a stranger comes into a room, clustering and laying their heads together, keep tittering and laughing; which not only distresses the new comer, but gives to themselves an air of levity and under-breeding, which robs them of their greatest graces of delicacy and politeness.

In all cases then of disagreeable habit a teacher's duty is to inculcate strenuously the ne cessity of getting the better of that recurring propensity, by a sedulous attention to the avoid ing it, and, by recovering the liberty of nature, to give that graceful ease and flowingness of

- - --~~~~ _-_--" 76 ART OF DANCING. movements and gesture, which bestow on the person the greatest advantage of which it is susceptible.

But as (says Gallini) every different scholar requires in some degree different lessons, ac cording to their peculiar turn or dispositions, it is evidently impossible to convey by writing such general instructions as would be of use to the public. Practice, personal observation, and the lessons not only of the teachers of this art, but the advice of such parents and guardians of youth as are themselves masters of good breeding and knowledge of the polite world, must be the best means of forming the objects of their care and tuition to that desirable point of perfection, es pecially in what relates to the AIR or Port of the PERson, of which one of our celebrated poets had so high a conception that he said it might of itself stand for a patrimony.

Patrimonio assai grande - E un costume gentil. Fulv. Test.

Of some particular defects, however, we shall now endeavour to make a few useful obser

vations. - NATIONAL DANCES, - 77

I. NATURAL DEFECTs.

II. Of PARTICULAR Defects.

1. As to the FEET.—In teaching, then, the master should first examine his pupil, and when he finds some particular defects, endeavour to rectify them by proper methods.

The argué, or bow-legged defect, exists when the whole length of the leg and thigh, from the haunches to the feet, describes a kind of arch. From the hollowness of the haunches the thighs and knees stand open, and cause that bow of the legs which is very difficult to straighten; and which being generally attended with long and flat feet, with ancles jetting out, makes it im possible to be totally remedied.—However, as a temporary expedient, by keeping the knees straight, and not making the pupil turn out his toes too much, it may, in some degree, be ren dered less obvious.

The jarreté, or in-kneed defect, may be re medied by making use of the following means; namely, separating the knees, and turning the thighs outwardly: this last exercise, frequently 78 ART OF DANCING. repeated, will cause the knees to turn out, and when once the knee-pan is in a perpendicular direction with the point of the foot, by constant practice the pupil, if young, may get over it.— As a temporary expedient, keeping the knee not too much stretched or extended, may have such an effect as to baffle the most curious observer; and, in process of time, as the scholar grows stronger, this defect may be entirely removed.

Some of the most celebrated dancers have had this defect. Westris was a little jarreté; but by dint of great art and management, it was not discernable, except on some very particular oc casions, such as in straight capers, l’entré chat droit, or very quick movements, which he sel dom exhibited, being chiefly confined to grave dancing. In the case of the entré-chat-droit, the knees cross too much, which shews the de fect, and destroys the brilliancy of the feet, which cannot cross and perform the entré-chat as they should do.

2. JAs to the ARMs.—Teachers seldom, or never, attempt to teach the pupil the use of the arms till the very last; when on the contrary, as soon as he can go through the minuet step, NATIONAL DANCEs. - 79 with any kind of precision, they should take particular pains in forming that rounding ofthe arms, which nothing but great practice, as well as taste, can render graceful.

They should also particularly attend to the length of the arms, which is sometimes prepos. terous in pupils who are jarretés; and, in that case, the rounding should be enforced in pro portion to the length of the arms, that they may appear shorter, and diminish that awkwardness; adding more grace by the bend and elevation of the elbow; which cannot be done but by great attention and assiduity.

I have seen capital dancers, who were defec tive in this point, but, from practice and obser vation, have artfully concealed it. Mrs. Wof: fington, who danced a minuet with such grace, had this defect; her arms being rather too long for her body; but through proper management of their rounding, it was imperceptible.

The short arm should be lengthened by a con trary movement. Instead of bending it, should have recourse to extension, and, by a graceful turn of the wrist, the want of proportionable 80 ART OF DANCING.

length would be forgotten, and that proper grace acquired, which is so requisite in giving the hand: and this is the business of a dancing master. He should thoroughly examine the pupil’s person, find out his defects, and supply by artificial substitutes those deficiencies which nature has caused.

3. As to the BoDY.—There is no kind of dancing which does not require the arms and hands to move harmoniously with the rest of the body; for though the body itself should be steady, and its motion derived only from the haunches and the legs, yet the arms 'ought to move with the body, and correspond with the

legs. -

Were the body to move according to the feet, the features would also get into motion, and cause grimaces and distortions, according to the different steps which were formed by the feet. When the body is thrown out of its per pendicular position the equilibrium is destroyed, and, consequently, all harmony and exactness is lost, as well as that beauty and grace, which are the very essence of good breeding.

= - ~~~~~------<------~~~~~~ t - - *** * *~ --> NATIONAL DANCES. 81

This unsteadiness of the body, is owing, in a great measure, to the weakness of the loins. This, however, has been sometimes redressed by art; that by great attention to that particular part of the body, a firmness which preserves the equilibrium, and secures the perpendicular po sition of the trunk, has been acquired,

If a dancer be weak in the loins, and cannot keep his body firm, by means of that art which is here mentioned, he is -continually wavering: every step he makes seems to be actuated by chance; and it is through good fortune only that he is secured from falling.

Another very essential circumstance should be adverted to, and that is, the stature of the person. When a tall person dances, he may take greater steps, and make use of a greater circumference than a short person, provided his partner be in proportion to himself. But nothing can be more ridiculous, than to see a man, six feet high, dance in a small compass, and mince his steps, not only where there is room enough, but when his partner is nearly as tall as himself. On the other hand, it is as absurd, to see a diminutive person endeavouring to imitate a G 82 ART OF DANCING. tall one, by taking large steps, when his partner is of a low stature, and by no means able to keep up with him. This throws them both out of time, and makes them appear ridiculous. A master should check this in its infancy, by describing, or marking out proper limits for his pupils; for, by taking too large steps, the equilibrium is destroyed, and they run the risk of stumbling, or even of falling, to the great amusement of the spectators.

4. As to general CoNFIDENCE.—It is also required of a dancer, when he is sufficiently in structed to dance in public, to arm himself with a sufficient degree of necessary and becom ing confidence, so that he may not be con founded, or put out of countenance. Nothing should disconcert him, unless he have some natural defect; and if that should be the case, it would be much better for him never to begin to dance. If he adds assurance to deformity, he becomes contemptible; and the spectators may, with great justice, laugh at him aloud, and despise him as a fool, and as a fit subject for ridicule When he labours under any visible natural defect, without this assurance, he be comes an object of compassion, and is pitied; NATIONAL DANCES. 83

but if he is not laughed at, the soundness of his intellect is called in question; and, I think very justly, for thus exposing himself. Thus, if a man walks lamely, he is to be pitied; but, if he dances lamely, he is to be laughed at.

II. Acquired DEFECTs.

We proceed to make some remarks on ac quired defects, and especially on those which

arise from the mode of teaching, -

In the first place, the master begins to teach his scholar the five positions; and, generally speaking, were he to leave off at this period, it would be well for the pupil,

- The next thing which he is taught, is what is called the forward minuet step; in performing which, he is made to rise and sink, in such an unnatural form, that one would imagine he was

working a machine, -

When he has sufficiently acquired this stiff, awkward, and ridiculous movement, the master fixes him on the third position, in order to make his bow before he begins the minuet. In

- G 2 - 84 ART of DANCING.

this position he is taught to take off his hat, by a slow, but unnatural elevation of the hand to the head, with a subsequent lowering of it, till it hangs, as if he had neither bones nor joints in his arms. As soon as this is performed, his right leg moves from his left, and he bows with both his arms hanging down, resembling those of a man hanging in chains. Let nature judge if this be graceful ! Then away goes the head, lower than the knees; so that the back is seen in front; and the scholar rises gradually, black in the face, while the left leg is thrown behind the right.—This is called the bow, and is the begining of the minuet—a dance in which the symmetry and gracefulness of the body are sup posed to be best displayed.

After this ridiculous movement, the pupil leads his partner round with the forward step, &c.

The side-step, which should be rather a grace ful method of walking, as well as the forward step, is likewise taught in the same stiff and

disagreeable manner. -

When he comes to give his right hand to his partner, which should be done with an un, NATIONAL DANCES. 85

affected elevation of the arm, and an easy turn of the wrist, it is, on the contrary, performed, by thrusting the hand and arm out, in a hori zontal direction, without either ease or grace. The left hand is given, if possible, in a still more awkward manner.

These are the movements which ever after constitute that stiff, unnatural and abominable gait which we see in the generality of dancing- masters; and the more the scholar imitates

the master, the more affected he appears. -

The minuet de la cour, one of the finest dances in the world, is made up, by our modern teachers, of nothing but distortion and ridicu lous attitudes. In short, it is more a burlesque on the dance, than anything else. Our English ..teachers have, in general, no conception of it; and the greatest part of the foreigners destroy it with unnatural and ungraceful movements.

With respect to the graces, we may remark, that those ladies who are taught to dance, are not so subject to ungraceful deportment; being less liable to imitate their masters: besides, as affectation, even in its strongest point of view, 86 ART OF DANCING.

is not so ridiculous in the fair sex as in men, it is generally less noticed in them; particularly if they have it only to a certain degree; as it then rather serves to attract the attention of the spec tators, and leads them to a thorough examina tion of the personal charms of the dancers. If they are outré in any respect, their female beau ties not only make up for this defect, but it is totally forgotten when we behold the form of a Venus, with every charm that captivates the heart. -

The present Duchess of A-le, and her sister the late countess of C, who, notwithstanding their immoderate share of affectation, were reign ing toasts, as great beauties, by being exceeding good dancers, were universally admired, by all the connoisseurs of the graces, and by all good judges of dancing. -

The best dancers of minuets, as well as of country dances, were never dancers by profes sion. Mrs. Woffington, and Miss Macklin, (who, though excellent comedians, were not professionally dancers,) although they possessed some share of affectation, were the finest minuet dancers in Europe, and possessed all that ease NATIONAL DANCES. 87

and grace, which entitled them to the admira

tion of their times. -

This is mentioned as a proof, that it is the affectation of dancing-masters, which generally causes that stiff and unnatural mode of dancing, which we see so commonly among men; and as the fault is not so conspicuous in female dancers, provided they are finely made, they may meet with all the applause due to the en chanting movements of an elegant person.

Our observations having already turned on the minuet, we shall endeavour to explain, in what manner it should be danced by a gentle man, whose sense and discernment have totally divested him of the affectation of a dancing master.

To be the man of fashion in this dance, he should not, when he begins the bow, bend his head too low, nor turn out his toes too much. Let ease and nature be his guides.

In taking off his hat, his hand should rise gradually, but not stiffly, describing the bend ings of the elbow with freedom and judgment. 88 ART OF DANC ING,

- And when his hat is off, and he is making his bow, he should by no means let his hands hang as if they were lifeless, and without either joints or bones; but should form a small curve with his elbow, his hat inclining inwardly, so that, when he rises, he may throw back his hat with his arms, and remain in an upright and elegant position;—this being almost the first attitude which strikes the spectators, and shews a man to the best advantage.

When he leads the lady round, his attention should be fixed on his partner, and his ear at tentive to the music. If he set off out of time, he must be some time before he can recover it, and the minuet is spoiled. This generally pro ceeds from being in a kind of hurry at first setting off; which should never be the case, since the music is the guide, and the time the director.

The steps should be formed without rising or sinking too much. By so doing, he appears easy and natural ; but if he act otherwise, he discovers a very ungraceful movement, and is guilty of that very fault which is so prevalent in all pupils who are just begining to dance.

*

------> **-*------> ... ------~~~~ - ~~ >< NATIONAL DANCES. 89

It savours of that intolerable affectation, so apparent in the masters themselves, and so dif. ferent from the elegance and ease displayed by men of rank who have been highly educated.

When he crosses over in the minuet, he should continue looking at his partner, till he turns the corner, and then catch her eyes again, with an agreeable and pleasant countenance. During the time of his first crossing over, he should put on his hat, so that he may appear with it on, when he has turned the corner.

His right hand should be given after the third crossing, unless he agrees with his partner for a : longer time. In giving his hand, the bending of the elbow, already spoken of, should be ob served: and, in order to apprise his partner of what he is going to do, the pas grave is per formed at the corner, before he gives his hand. The same is done in giving his left hand, but with great attention to the time. If it is not in time, it is better to leave it out, and dance the

minuet simply. *

In giving both hands, he should particularly preserve the graces, as nothing appears more

*-i- - - - ... : " " ------> ------~~<--> == ~ --~~~~ -- -- 90 ART OF DANCING.

awkward, if it be not done with propriety; and, on the contrary, nothing is more graceful, when performed without the awkward stiffness already described.

The last thing, after giving the hands, is returning to the place in which he first began his bow, which requires some attention, and no hurry; for, owing to precipitation, we have seen the partners sometimes jostle each other, and leave off in the middle of the room.

The minuet de la cour is of the first class, and requires a fine person, with all that grace fulness we have so often mentioned. The steps should be performed in perfect time, and the contours of the whole be consistent with grace. The movement of the arms should be particularly studied, they being continually in motion, and exhibiting either much graceful ness, or intolerable awkwardness. There is no medium in this dance; for it must be either performed with elegance and ease, or not at tempted at all.

The remaining observations on this head, are from a respectable teacher.

----- NATIONAL DANCEs. 9]

In swinging or turning corners in Country Dancing, there exists no necessity for introduc ing a bow or inclination of the head; the hand is to be given, the head and body bearing a proportionate ease to the necessary action of the feet and arms.

Shuffling and rattling about the feet in Ball Room Dancing, is extremely vulgar; and on no -occasion so properly introduced as in sailor’s

hornpipes, or comic dances. -

Looking at the feet, either in walking or dancing, gives an appearance of self-sufficiency. An inclination of the head may be considered a great addition to a standing position; and the ancients, who surpassed the moderns in their ideas of grace, have seldom delineated a figure without an inclination of the head, unless in some violent attitudes; but an easy contempla-. tive attitude, is very different from the action intended to be displayed in dancing: so that to look down, is to be insensible of the surround ing objects, and is almost certain to produce errors, and create contempt.

Many persons, instead of extending the arm 92 ART of DANCING. to join hands in dancing, get as close as they well can to the person with whom they are to perform the figure; by which means they must each bend the arm at the elbow, thereby pro ducing two angles, instead of one serpentine line, which not only gives to such persons an appearance of lameness, but produces an ex tremely inelegant effect.

It is a common error with gentlemen, instead of lightly touching the hands of ladies, to hold them so fast, that they can scarcely disengage themselves, which is vulgar in the extreme, and destroys all appearance of ease in the per formance.

Some persons have a very disagreeable method of bearing down the hands of their partners, in leading down the middle: others lift them up and down alternately, in the same figure. These are gross errors, and ought particularly to be

avoided.

In the presenting of a glove, card, &c. to another, the arm should be raised easily, leaving the body with a raising motion of the elbow, and then extending the arm forward to its point

of distance. 2 NATIONAL DANCES. 93

In walking, it may frequently be observed, that persons either shuffle along, or, as if run ning, destroy the appearance and deportment of the whole figure. The feet should advance alternately, turned rather outwardly, and the action commence and descend with equal and proportionately easy action from the hip to the toe; the equilibrium of the body being pre served, without any apparent stiffness; and, in passing each other, a slight inclination of the head is occasionally necessary.

In all movements of the feet, the toes pointed downwards, and in general turned (as much as with ease to the performer they can be) outwards.

But the greatest and most general error in dancing, as in all other things, is, that persons attempt more than they are able to execute well, which entirely destroys the good effects of things

they are perfectly competent to, -

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