A Dictionary of Music and Musicians/Dance Rhythm

by Hubert Parry

DANCE RHYTHM and dance gestures have exerted the most powerful influence on music from prehistoric times till the present day. The analogy of a similar state of things among uncivilised races still existing confirms the inherent probability of the view that definiteness of any kind in music, whether of figure or phrase, was first arrived at through connection with dancing. The beating of some kind of noisy instrument as an accompaniment to gestures in the excitement of actual war or victory, or other such exciting cause, was the first type of rhythmic music, and the telling of national or tribal stories and deeds of heroes, in the indefinite chant consisting of a monotone slightly varied with occasional cadences, which is met with among so many barbarous peoples, was the first type of vocal music. This vague approach to musical recitation must have received its first rhythmic arrangement when it came to be accompanied by rhythmic gestures, and the two processes were thereby combined, while song and dance went on together, as in mediaeval times in Europe.

The process in the development of modern music has been similar. The connection between popular songs and dancing led to a state of definiteness in the rhythm and periods of secular music long before the times which are commonly regarded as the dawn of modern music; and in course of time the tunes so produced were not only actually used by the serious composers of choral music, as the inner thread of their works, but they also exerted a modifying influence upon their style, and led them by degrees to change the unrhythmic vagueness of the early state of things to a regular definite rhythmic system. The fact that serious music was more carefully recorded than secular makes the state of the art in the time of Dunstable, Tinctor, De Muris, and the Francos to appear more theoretical than effective. Serious musicians were for the most part very shy of the element of rhythm, as if it was not good enough company for their artistic purposes. Consequently the progress of serious art till the 16th century was confined to the development of good part-writing and good progressions of harmony. The result is a finely continuous mass of tone, and expressive effects of harmony, in the works of these old masters up to the early years of the 16th century, but a conspicuous absence of definiteness in both the rhythms and phrases; as may be observed in the 'Chansons mondaines' of Okeghem, Josquin de Prez, and Hobrecht, as well as in their sacred music. But while these composers were proceeding on their dignified way, others whose names are lost to fame were busy with dance tunes which were both sung and played, and may be studied in the 'Orchésographie' of Thoinot Arbeau, and Stafford Smith's 'Musica Antiqua,' the 'Berliner Liederbuch,' the Walther'sches Liederbuch,' and elsewhere. And quite suddenly, within the space of less than a generation, the rhythmic impulse of this choral dance music passed into serious music, and transformed the vague old-fashioned 'Chanson mondaine' into a lively rhythmic tune; and at the same time gave the development of the art in the direction of modern harmony a lift such as it never could have got by continuing in its old path. In fact, the first change of the Chanson mondaine into the typical madrigal seems to have been greatly helped by the progress in artistic merit of the forms of the dance tunes, such as were sung in parts by voices, and by the closely allied Frottole and Villanellas. As early as Arcadelt and Festa rhythmic definition of a dance kind is found in works which are universally recognised as madrigals; and as it is possible that composers did not keep steadily in view the particular class to which after ages would refer their works, they wrote things which they intended to be madrigals, but which were in reality pervaded by a dance impulse almost from beginning to end, inasmuch as the harmonies move often together, and form rhythmic groups. But, on the other hand, the most serious masters of the great period of madrigal art evidently resisted the influence of regular dance rhythms, and in the richest and maturest specimens of Marenzio, Palestrina, Vecchi, and our greatest English masters, it would be difficult to point to the distinct rhythmic grouping which implies a connection with dance motions. But nevertheless even these great masters owed something to dance influence. For it was the independence from artistic responsibility of the early dance writers which enabled them to find out the elementary principles of chord management, by modifying the conventional modes as their instincts led them; while their more serious and cautious brethren were being incessantly thwarted in their efforts by their respect for the traditions of these modes. And hence dance music reacted upon serious music in a secondary as well as direct way, since its composers led the way in finding out the method of balancing and grouping chords in the manner which in modern music is familiar in the inevitable treatment of Tonic and Dominant harmonies, and in the simpler branches of modulation of the modern kind. This secondary influence the great madrigal writers were not directly conscious of, however much they profited by it; and the growth and popularity of the independent forms of Frottola, Villanella, Balletto, and so forth, helped to keep their art form free from the more obvious features of dance music. When the madrigal art came to an end, it was not through its submitting openly to the seductive simplicity of dance rhythm, but by passing into part songs with a definite tune, such as were early typified in the best days by Dowland's lovely and finished works; or into the English glee; or through its being corrupted by the introduction of an alien dramatic element, as by Monteverde.

All such music, however, was deposed from the position it occupied prior to the year 1600 by the growth of new influences. Opera, Oratorio, and many other kinds of accompanied song, and, above all, instrumental music, began to occupy most of the attention of composers.

In the first beginnings of Opera and Oratorio the importance of dance rhythm is shown by negative as well as positive evidence. In the parts in which composers aimed at pure declamatory music the result, though often expressive, is hopelessly and inextricably indefinite in form. But in most cases they submitted either openly or covertly to dance rhythm in some part or other of their works. In Cavaliere's one oratorio the connection of the chorus 'Fate festa al Signore' with the 'Laudi spirituali' is as obvious as the connection of the said Laudi with popular dance songs. For in the Italian movement, fostered by Neri, as in the German movement in favour of the Chorale, to which Luther gave the impetus, the dance principle was only two generations off. Both Chorales, and Laudi Spirituali, and the similar rhythmic attempts of the early French Protestants were either adaptations of popular songs, or avowedly modelled on them; and, as has been already pointed out, the popular songs attained their definite contour through connection with the dance. But besides this implication, in Cavaliere's work distinct instructions are given for dancing, and the same is the case with Peri's opera 'Euridice,' which came out in the same year (1600). As a matter of fact, Peri seems to have been less susceptible to the fascination of clear dance rhythm than his fellow composers, but the instructions he gives are clear and positive. The last chorus is headed 'Ballo a 3,' 'Tutto il coro insieme cantano e ballano.' Similarly Gagliano's 'Dafne' (printed at Florence in 1608) ends with a 'Ballo.' Monteverde's 'Orfeo' (1609) contains a chorus headed 'Questo balletto fu cantato al suono di cinque Viole,' etc., and the whole ends with a 'Moresca' which is preceded by a chorus that is to the utmost degree rhythmic in a dance sense. To refer to the works of Lulli for examples of the influence is almost superfluous, as they are so full of dances and gesticulation that the sum total of his operas is more terpsichorean than dramatic, and this does not only apply to the actual dances so called, but also to vocal pieces. Handel, Rameau, and Gluck used their dance effects with more discretion and refinement, and in the later development of Opera the traces of dance and rhythm fade away in the dramatic portions of the work; though it cannot be said that the influence has ceased even in modern times, and positive independent dance movements persist in making their appearance, with complete irrelevance in many cases, as much to the annoyance of people of sense as to the delight of the fashionable triflers to whom opera-houses are dear because it has been the fashion for a century or so for similar triflers to frequent them.

In Oratorio the dance influence maintained its place, though of course not so prominently as in Opera. Next after Cavaliere, Carissimi submitted to its influence. He was, in fact, one of the first Italians who frequently showed the power of a definite rhythmic figure, derived from the dance, in giving go and incisiveness to both choruses and solos. As instances may be quoted the song of Jephthah's daughter when she comes out to meet him—'Cum tympanis et Choris'—after his victory, and the solo and chorus describing the king's feast at the beginning of 'Balthazar'—'Inter epulas canori, exultantes sonent chori.' In Handel's oratorios the introduction of artistic dance music was common, and the influence of it is to be traced elsewhere as well. But in modern times the traditional connection of dance and religion has ceased, except in the Easter dances in the Cathedral of Seville, and oratorios no longer afford examples of minuets and jigs. But the influence is still apparent. In the first Baal Chorus in 'Elijah' Mendelssohn allowed a rhythm of a solemn dance order to appear, and the same quality is to be discerned in the Pagan Chorus in 'St. Paul,' 'O be gracious, ye immortals'; while he permitted himself to drift into a dancing mood, with less obvious reason, in the middle movement of the symphony to the 'Lobgesang,' and in the chorus 'How lovely are the messengers' in 'St. Paul.'

The obligations of instrumental music to dance rhythm are far greater than that of any respectable form of choral music. Almost all modern instrumental music till the present time may be divided into that in which the cantabile or singing element predominates, and that in which the rhythmic dance principle is paramount. In fact, dance rhythm may be securely asserted to have been the immediate origin of all instrumental music. The earliest definite instrumental pieces to be found are naturally short dances. A step in the direction of artistic effect was made when two or more dances, such as a Pavan and a Galliard, were played one after another for the sake of the contrast and balance which was thereby obtained. The result of such experiments was the Suite-form, and in the article on that subject the question of the direct connection of the form of art with the Dance is discussed at length.

When the more mature form of the Sonata began to develop, other forms of art were maturing also, and had been imitated in instrumental music. Madrigals having been 'apt for voices or viols' were imitated for instruments alone. Movements for solo voices with accompaniment were also being imitated in the shape of movements for instruments, and were rapidly developing into a distinct art form; and again the movement, consisting of a succession of chords interspersed with fioriture, such as singers used, had been developed by organists such as Claudio Merulo, partly by instinct and partly by imitation. Most of these forms were combined with dance forms in the early stages of the Sonata; and in the articles on that subject, and on Form and Symphony, the question is discussed in detail. Here it is not necessary to discuss more than the general aspect of the matter. Composers early came to the point of trying to balance movements of a singing order with dance movements. In the early Violin Sonatas, such as those of Biber and Corelli, dance principles predominated, as was natural, since the type of the movements which were sung was not as yet sufficiently developed. But the special fitness of the violin for singing speedily complicated this order of things, and the later representatives of the great Italian violin school modified the types of dance forms with cantabile and highly expressive passages.

The Clavier Sonata, on the other hand, inclined for a time towards a rhythmic style. The harpsichord was not fitted for cantabile, and the best composers for the instrument fell back upon a clear rhythmic principle as their surest means of effect. When the harpsichord was displaced by the pianoforte a change naturally followed. The first movement came to occupy a midway position, sometimes tending towards dance rhythms, and sometimes to cantabile, and sometimes combining the two. The central slow movement was developed on the principle of the slow operatic aria, and adopted its form and style. The last movement continued for a long time to be a dance movement, often actually a gigue, or a movement based on similarly definite rhythms; and when there were four movements the third was always decisively a dance movement. In the old style of Operatic Overture, also known as a Symphony, there was at least one distinct dance movement. This kind of work developed into the modern Orchestral Symphony, in which at least one decided dance movement has maintained its position till the present day, first as the familiar minuet and trio, and then in the scherzo, which is its offspring, and always implies a dance rhythm. But the fitness of a dance movement to end with is palpable, and composers have constantly recognised the fact. Haydn has given a strong example in the last movement of the fine Symphony in D minor, No. 7 of the Salomon set; and many others of his Rondos are absolute dance movements. Among Mozart's the last movement of the E♭ Symphony may be pointed to; among Beethoven's the wild frenzy of the last movement of the Symphony in A minor, No. 7. In modern times the influence of dance music upon the musical character of composers has become very marked. The dance which has had the greatest influence of all is undoubtedly the Waltz, and its ancestor the Ländler. Beethoven, Weber, Schubert, Schumann, and Brahms have not only written dance movements of this kind, but show its influence in movements which are not acknowledged as dance movements. Even Wagner has written one dance of this kind in 'Die Meistersinger.'

Many modern composers have introduced bonâ fide national dance-tunes into their instrumental works, as Beethoven did with Russian tunes in the Rasoumoffsky Quartets. Some go further, as may be seen by the example of Schubert, Brahms, and Dvořák, and others of note. For they accept, as invaluable accessories to their art, rhythmic and characteristic traits drawn from the dances of Hungarians, Scandinavians, Bohemians, Sclavs, and Celts of various ilks; and subjects which appear in movements of sonatas and symphonies by famous composers are sometimes little more than figures taken from national dance-tunes slightly disguised to adapt them to the style of the composer.

The connection of music with gesture is a question too special and intricate to be entered on in detail. But it may be pointed out that a considerable quantity of the expressive material of music is manifestly representative of, or corresponding to, expressive gestures. The branch of dancing which consisted of such expressive gestures was one of the greatest importance, but it has almost entirely ceased to hold place among modern civilised nations. In music the traces of it are still to be met with, both in the finest examples of Sarabandes, and also, more subtly, in some of the most expressive passages of the greatest masters.

[ C. H. H. P. ]