The Occasional Dance Newsletter (1)

Irrelevant but amusing factoids from the dance scene, past and present.

Barbara Segal, dance researcher, on Early Music Show, BBC Radio 3:

Factoid 1: Sudden death

Sometime in the 14th century, one royal fete, or extravaganza, or masque in France involved Five Men of the Woods, five grotesque dancers made up like trees with ropes and feathers and wax. The danger of this get up was realized and, unusually for the time, fire precautions had been taken, use of torches having been banned during the event. Then the king's brother decided to approach with a candle to see who it was that was dancing -- because, well, King's brothers are not brain surgeons; and because who will say to the King's brother "stop, what are you doing?" And there may have been another reason as well: one of the five was in fact the King himself, Charles II. But court members, least of all kings, were not supposed to dances grotesques. Grotesques, figures representing forces of evil, darkness and magic, who were then, in the royal fetes, defeated or dispelled by the King and his dancing courtiers, were supposed to be danced by professional musicians. So the King danced incognito, and the King's brother, recognizing the steps perhaps, may have wished to assure himself that it is not in fact his brother among the grotesquers.

Or perhaps he had seen an opportunity. For then -- whoa! -- the five men went up in flames! The audience probably thought it was all part of the show and clapped hands; only the King's aunt, who alone had been taken into the secret, realized what is happening -- Holy Christmas, Chuck's on Fire! -- and throwing a cape upon the King and saved him. The others, says Barbara Segal, were not so lucky.

A real aristocratic jock thing, this: the four spent what was probably weeks, and a fortune, to prepare the get up and practice the steps, probably in secret, sneaking out at strange hours, and skipping court duties. Say, isn't this dangerous, said one one day in a rare moment of reflection. Dangerous-schmangerous, said another. That's why we're doing it. Come on, it's just a dance, don't be such a %#@! woos.

Then they did it and -- went straight to hell in one incredible instant.

Factoid 2: Fame

At the height of his fame, Jack Kemp, Shakespeare's famous clown, left the company to dance - or jig - from London to Norwich, over the period of 9 days. (27 days actually, but 9 of actual dancing). He was followed by a piper and wore bells at his ankles as he danced. This made him famous; he wrote down an account of it and published it as The Nine Days' Wonder, and a pretty wood cut illustrating the event survives. Jack did not play with wax and candles. There were no casualties.