Volume 23, Issue 2

This article sets the dancing of religious and saints and their role models in the perspective of imitation in terms of an essential cultural technique of the Middle Ages. Since the religious were compelled in their search for God by the imitation of Christ and the saints, their dancing was also to be integrated into the symbolic order of the monastery. Given that dance and religious practice are both governed equally by two fundamental categories – regularity and ritualization on the one hand, and ecstasy, unboundedness from all being and in result ascension to God on the other – this heterogeneous phenomenon could not be seamlessly integrated into another phenomenon. Here, it clashed with the symbolic ordering of the monastery; the ambiguities contained in this dualism could be reinforced or cancelled out. With the individual and his or her conscience becoming more appreciated, and the ushering-in of a more plural society (that also dances), as well as the rearrangement of old role models which had been typical of mysticism towards Christ, had clear consequences for the image of God, which in the Late Middle Ages received a new more human face with the ‘playing’ God. As a result, believers re-anchored dance and all its facets in the order-oriented thinking of the European-Christian Middle Ages. Christ had become the best of all dancers, someone (not only) every believer had to imitate, at least in his or her soul.

‘Dancing mania’ has often been understood as an expression of purportedly ‘typical medieval’ mass hysteria. Yet evidence suggests that a better interpretation would be to see it as a disease, the idea of which was shaped by patterns tracing back to antique cosmology. During the later Middle Ages, this concept became reality as a form of suffering primarily determined by spiritual forces (e.g. the might of Saint John the Baptist) which typically struck only individuals or small groups in narrowly defined regions. This article closely examines a key shift in the semiotic setting of how this disease was interpreted: During the 15 th and early 16 th centuries, it became medicalised and desacralized. Evidence of this development can be found in isolated instances of ‘dancing mania’ in towns of the Rhine and Moselle area which at first glance would appear to be of little significance. As a medical concept, ‘dancing mania’ would survive the Reformation, and as a concept of primarily medical understanding it would later be re-integrated into the renewed Catholic culture of the late 16 th and 17 th centuries.

A vernacular fifteenth-century sermon tells us, in order to warn of the threats to spiritual welfare posed by dance, that cyclic motion and centering of sensory impressions – amongst them intimate conversation – are essential elements of dance. When blending out the parenesis, implicit poetics of medieval dance can be distilled from that sermon. The way how these essential elements of dance are used for generating disruptions within literary plots will be demonstrated in three literary texts dating from the thirteenth to the fifteenth century: Disruptions in connection with dance occur when contrary concepts of motion clash with each other, for example the linearity of the chivalrous way through the Other World with the cyclicity of round dances (‚Prosa-Lancelot‘). ‚Der Württemberger‘, however, collides two contrary concepts of time which can be paraphrased as spatial metaphors, namely the linearity of earthly life which collides with the cyclicity of eternal damnation, a collision symbolized by the expulsion of life out of the dance of the death. Finally in ‚Ritter Sociabilis‘, dance generates a virtual space which subverts the courtly society. The protagonists of all these texts differently manage to resolve disruptions, namely by redemption, by repentance, or by continuing disruptions which they have caused themselves.

This paper explores the issue of performative spaces in the medieval Latin Church, examining the mindsets of the time and the ways practitioners adopted the Platonic notion of world harmony. We then look at the Palatine Chapel of Aachen (Latin Aquisgranum ) in the light of the Plato’s doctrine. At the heart of this analysis will be the cosmological drama at the creation of the world, described by Ambrose as a chorus of the constitutive elements. It is from this image that the proto-model of the Christian Church as ‘moving waters’ was derived, a vision shared by both the Eastern and the Western world. To this day, the Palatine chapel of Aquisgranum conveys the appearance of the Ambrosian vision of the primordial waters, with its renewed marble revetments imitating the cosmic waters. The church is designed according to propria dispositione , i. e. modularity. Augustine’s concept of modularity and his psychology of sound, space, movement, and time will be explored in the hypothetical inquiry into the dramatization of space at Aachen. Here, we find that the Chapel has two choreographies (one physical, one incorporeal) which unfold in the space like-stage set up as a synthesis of the arts shaped according to numbers. Relevant concepts to our topic will emerge in the analysis, such as concord, consonance and agreement, measure and movement – metaphors of the idea of a ‘dance’ that exceeds the character of a mere performance.

The following article looks briefly into the development of the spiritual practice of dance ( samāʿ ) in Islamic mysticism prior to the ritualization of the dervishes’ ‘dance’ with the early Mawlawiyya . Focusing on changes in the notion of ‘dance’ or physical motion as a consequence of contemplation and ecstasy, it also examines its quality as a means to obtain this state. This is preceded by some remarks on the terms ‘dance’ in Arabic, Persian and Turkish, and a brief discussion of the difficulties of research dealing with medieval dance, primarily in the Turkish context.

By tradition, Byzantine dance is linked with both classical antiquity and today’s folk dances of the southern Balkans. Turkish influence on the latter seems limited primarily to musical instruments and melody but does not appear to include rhythm. In antiquity, and in Byzantine times, the simple rhythmic foot was divided into arsis and thesis , the ‘up’ and ‘down’ of a step, and the ratio of their lengths (in time units) determined the rhythmic genus , 1:1 dactylic, 2:1 iambic, 3:2 paeonic and 4:3 epitrite. This implies measures of 2, 3, 4, 5 or 7 units and certain multiples. In addition, there were also composite rhythmic feet which combined simple feet of different genera . In early Byzantium, for example, measures of 11 and probably of 9 units were used. These seem to correspond to the forms 3+3+2+3, 2+3+2+2+2 and 2+2+3+2. This would suggest that the asymmetric rhythms of Greek, Bulgarian and Macedonian folk dances derive from ancient and Byzantine predecessors.

In the 15th century, play and dance were expressively criticised. This makes it all the more remarkable for the Dominican Meister Ingold to identify, in his ‘Guldin Spil’, not only chess, cards and dice as some of the seven games useful to overcome the seven deadly sins, but also dance. Ingold, however, does not praise the outward dance. Rather, he intends to turn the reader towards what may be called inner contemplation or Betrachtung, with the various stages of Jesus’ life are transformed into dance steps. The result is an odd conflict: external dance may have negative connotations, yet lays the mental groundwork for the inner Betrachtung . This article aims to explore this area of conflict by examining the various traditions of interpretation which may have influenced Ingold.

Numerous studies covering courtly dancing and its portrayal in medieval European religious art and literature seem to have, to a large extent, exhausted this subject. Nevertheless, works on courtly dances remain, for the most part, more speculative in nature than apparent at first glance. This is amazing when we consider the importance of courtly dance in literature and art dating from the Middle Ages, as there are only few Middle High German poems in which collective dance is not mentioned. Contrasting with this great number and wide range of references to dance is its small footprint in works dealing with the history of dance. Only a small number of works touch up this issue, and these have only collected and analysed fragments of the source material available. Hence, any conclusions cannot but lack critical depth with regard to the varying degrees of stylisation present, and their importance when attempting to draw comparisons between reports bound by tradition and stereotyped in nature, and those that exhibit greater literariness. This paper aims to discuss these problems and serves as a contribution to the field of the history of dance as reflected in medieval literature.