The Country Dance

Our chart shows two great trees, pruned for simplicity's sake. But, like any two trees growing side by side, the topmost twigs interlaced so thoroughly that it was sometimes impossible to tell which branch grew upon which tree.

For instance, looked at from one angle, the Morris seems to be completely English, but, from another angle, it slants back to Spain, and, along with French dances, seems related to the great Spanish "church dances" and the Spanish and French church dances in turn reflect the English church dances. And so they shuttled back and forth from country to country until we have a fine fabric that simply refuses to be unravelled.

The ancestors of our square dance did go to church, you know. As late as the 16th century, churches in England had their teams of "Morece dawnsers", supplied with costumes and bells by the church warden. (It was the Puritans who drove them out.) They were a part of praying, as dancing has always been in the deep hearts of the people.

But, long before Elizabeth's England, they had become "fun". A man and his maid went together to the green, and met their friends and fellow-townsmen, and danced for hours, the same simple figure that you know, to tunes some of which still ring through square dance halls today.

If, by some wizardry, you could be dropped into the village green of a town in 16th century England on a long, long summer evening, you may hear a single pipe playing the most enchanting and singable tune, and, while your ears are still pricked to the music, you will be snatched up along with your partner into a great circle of couples. You will find yourself going "forward and back" with the couple on the right, and then "circling three" with the man alone, and then with the girl alone, and, presently, as you are beginning to catch on, you will find yourself doing a series of "Dixie chains" in threes along the circle. The steps will be a little strange, with a lift of the balances and a run instead of a glide, but you will begin to feel very much at home, as you realize how much this is like a western square dance in a big circle. If you inquire about the tune that some of them are singing along with the piper, they will tell you that it is Rose is White and Rose is Red, and, if your background in English history is in good order, you will probably speculate that this is going back to the "War of Roses", when the white rose of York and the red rose of Lancaster fought over England.

Before you have much chance to think about this, you will be caught up by another couple into a little square dance set of four. Two couples in a square dance? After all, why not? Put two together and you'll have a square. What lovely music! Let's try it! "Sashay four steps to the left" - but we are leaping, not sliding.

What fun! Now we are lost in a series of what they are calling "rises", and then "swing the opposite girl", and we can't catch on. But in just a few phrases we are doing the old "Spanish Circle", if you please, and we settle into it happily, and come up doing a sort of "two men's chain" - the whole thing so strange yet so familiar. We have been dancing Parson's Farewell. Don't stop! Someone is calling for Drive the Cold Winter Away. This is a very old tune in 6/8 rhythm. Take an Elizabethan partner and do what she tells you. It's a sort of reel and makes a lovely tangle that unwinds itself beautifully. Perhaps this was one of those old Morrises that went out to get ready for spring, but now it is a "longways for as many as will" and it is beauty. It is a contra dance.

You can't sit down now. They are calling for Dull Sir John, and that is a "square-for-eight" - just your meat. First couple divide and around just one and the others the same, and then a little syncopated pass-through, and then that Dixie chain again, with no hands. And then the old "family waltz" figure of New England, with the men going around instead of the girls.

We have been skipping part of the time, walking part of the time, and running part of the time, and everyone but us seemed to know when to do which but, aside from that, what we have been doing is clearly square dancing, and fun.

By the time this long evening is over we shall have done an astonishing variety of dance patterns, many more than we ordinarily do today. We shall have done mostly "longways"-dances - some for six, some for eight and some for "as many as will". The ones for six are Morris dances - gone frivolous. The ones for eight are square dances - stretched out as lengthwise as on the day they were born. And the ones for "as many as will" have all the figures and subdivisions of our modern contra. They come in triples and in doubles and in reels, but they are "never crossed over".