Moving on from what ought to be the rock-bottom minimal standard for anything calling itself a “Jane Austen ball”, even in the modern English country dance community, let me talk a little about higher standards, and what you’d want to do if you were interested in actually approaching as close as is practical to period practice.  I’ve made two lists, one of what I consider to be important and one of elements that I do not consider as critical.  Some items are characteristics of the dancing itself, and some have to do with ball format, because the latter is just as important as the former in establishing a period atmosphere and breaking people out of the modern mindset.

Modern English country dance groups are unlikely to want to try most (or any!) of this, but I hope it’s interesting to see how different an experience a ball would have been two hundred years ago.  Some people have the bizarre idea that by suggesting that using “dances” (in the modern sense) from Jane Austen’s lifetime for something called a “Jane Austen ball”, I am somehow trying to impose actual historical practices on them.  No, really, not!

For simplicity’s sake, I’ve limited this to just things pertaining to country dancing, rather than trying to cover the entire range of possible dance forms for either Austen herself or the actual decade of the Regency.

 —————————————–

Important
1. Period steps.  You simply can’t just walk.  They don’t have to be wildly elaborate steps (country dance steps should be simple compared to, say, the fancy French sequences used in quadrilles), but there have to be steps.  And they need to be late eighteenth to early nineteenth century steps, not the doubles and singles of seventeenth-century practice.

2. Figures from the era.  This goes along with steps, since period steps will not fit very well into dances from, say, 1651.  The set of popular figures really did change noticeably over the history of country dancing, as it continues to do in the modern English country dance community today.  Ditch the set-and-turn-single and leading/siding/arming figures that are common in the mid-seventeenth century and do four-bar setting sequences and “corners” figures.  Country dance figures were not as varied in the early nineteenth century as they were in the mid-seventeenth, but there are still plenty to choose from, and the smaller pool of common figures makes it easier to learn the repertoire.

3. Music from the era.  This goes along with the steps and figures, since you need music to match them.  There are thousands (maybe tens of thousands) of tunes from this era to choose from.  Many of them are silly tinkly little things, but there are plenty of really good ones, including  many great Scottish tunes by the Gows.

4. The first couple calling the dance.  This is standard country dance practice for progressive dances as far back as country dance goes and further; it’s in the longways Italian dances of the 16th century as well.  The first couple in the set determines the music and the figures and communicates them to the rest of the set, either visually or verbally.  The term used historically is “calling”, as in “My partners were the two St. Johns, Hooper, Holder, and very prodigious Mr. Mathew, with whom I called the last”, to quote Jane Austen.  That suggests verbal calls, but it’s equally possible for experienced dancers to do many (not all) period figures solely by visual leads.  One American manual of the early nineteenth century suggests that a walk-through by the first couple to show the rest of the set the dance before it begins is a good idea, which carries the interesting implication that that was not normal practice!

Note that this pretty much puts the caller out of a job.  The important role of the master of ceremonies was social — introducing people, arranging for partners, determining when to stop the country dancing in favor of other sorts of dances, and carrying messages between the dancers and musicians and among the dancers in different sets.

5. “Snowball” progression.  Not a period term; for them it was just normal progression.  This goes along with the first couple calling, but even if you have a dancing master providing the figures (since most dancers nowadays are not prepared to call), the first couple in the set should still lead off!  This is important in establishing the historical mindset that a country dance was not merely a jolly communal activity but a performance opportunity for the first couple, whose dance it was, with the other dancers “assisting” as needed.

The dance starts with only the first one to three couples in the set (depending on the needs of the figures) moving.  As they progress down the set and couples accumulate at the top, each couple in turn becomes active and starts leading down the dance.  This snowballs until everyone is involved before slowly petering out, as each couple returns to its original place and stops dancing.  At the end, only the bottom couple(s) will be moving.  This makes the dance run longer overall, but there is significant standing-out time — that’s when you flirt! — so it’s not as exhausting as the length implies.

The first mention I can recall of the radical idea of everyone starting at once is not until the mid-nineteenth century, in relatively egalitarian (and impatient?) America.  But even so, most period sources through the end of the nineteenth century that give any details at all of progression still describe a single couple leading off.  This is one of the huge differences between modern and historical practice.

6. Dancing all the way to the end of the set.  Getting one couple from the bottom and just dropping to the end of the set is modern custom in RSCDS-style Scottish country dancing, but historically people seem to have danced the figure with just one couple below them, even if three are required, dancing with a “ghost” couple if necessary.  (Look closely at the diagram here.)

 —————————————–

Not important
1. Doing named country dances from the era.  This goes beyond “not important” to “actively misleading”.  There’s a perception that the way to program a ball is to find “dances” from the proper era and make a list of them.  There are entire websites devoted to promoting the misconception that memorizing a bunch of “dances” is the way to do Regency dancing.  But dancers of the late eighteenth and early nineteenth century didn’t conceptualize “dances” the way we do today, as a fixed choreography with an associated tune.  Saying “let’s do ‘Sprigs of Laurel!’” is not going to mean anything except to the musicians; that’s just the name of the piece of music.  Publishers of all the little music books and sheet music called things like “Twenty-four country dances for the year…” were putting out new tunes for home musicians, but they freely recycled figures, sometimes within the same book.  Sometimes on the same page.  Some figures are attached to dozens of tunes; I’ve found examples of over five dozen without making much effort.  Many tunes turn up repeatedly with different figures attached to them.

Couples calling a dance could use the printed figures, or different ones they had memorized, or (if they were especially talented) make up their own.  Regency-era London dancing master Thomas Wilson suggested that for a few tunes, particular figures were so traditional that no one would think of using any others, which implies that this inflexibility was unusual.  He then proceeds to give some alternate figures, just in case people want to mix things up anyway!

2. Really long sets.  Twelve-couple sets may be shown in diagrams, though technically no more than three are required, but that length of set will make the dance take a ludicrously long time (thirty minutes or more, depending on how complex the dance is).  This is a good place for compromise with modern tastes.  I tend to use sets of no more than seven couples, which for a triple minor progression requires twenty-four times through the music.  That is enough to experience the “snowball” progression without being ungodly long.  I’ve tried nine-couple sets at balls, and the dancers were definitely shooting unhappy looks my way after about twenty-five times through.

3. Neutral couples.  Wilson recommends having a spacer couple doing absolutely nothing, between the active minor sets of couples dancing; see the diagram here.  This makes it less likely that people will get muddled up with the next minor set, but at the expense of making the dance even longer and people spending more time standing around.  This is not only irritating (on both counts) for modern dancers, it’s also one of those areas where Wilson stands nearly alone.  Most dance manuals that say anything simply say to start when the lead couple has gone down three couples, meaning as soon as there are enough couples accumulated at the top to begin the (typically triple minor) dance.  Even Wilson says that in several places.  I’m not convinced that neutral couples were common period practice.

3. Triple minor progression with duple minor action.  This is a more ambiguous issue.  There are many sets of historical figures where the third couple in the minor set does nothing.  As noted above, instructions for each couple becoming the active couple and leading off down the dance are consistently to first accumulate three couples.  In a dance where the third couple in a minor set has no figures to do, that effectively creates a neutral couple (as Wilson spells out in detail).  That might well have been period practice beyond Wilson himself; it’s hard to say.  But given the choice of asking people to remember to always wait for three couples or always wait until you have enough couples accumulated to perform the figures (whether that is two or three), the latter seems to be easier.  Everyone understands the idea of needing enough people.  Waiting for extra people just so they can stand around and do nothing is a harder sell.  This is another area that I find a good candidate for compromise.  If the figures are all duple minor, I start new active couples as soon as two couples are available.

4. Paired dances.  There is substantial evidence that country dances were done in pairs, two dances with a single partner, before breaking the set and switching partners.  (From chapter 18 of  Pride & Prejudice: “The two first dances, however, brought a return of distress; they were dances of mortification.  Mr. Collins…gave her all the shame and misery which a disagreeable partner for a couple of dances can give.”)  I’m not sure this was consistent practice, since there is also period evidence that suggests otherwise.  So I don’t regard it as critical, though it’s a nice touch.

5. Numbers.  This was the custom at (some?) public assemblies.  The ladies, or sometimes the gentlemen, would be given numbers, and stand up in the set in that order.  After the lady with the #1 tag (attached to her gown!) and her partner had called a dance, they would move to the bottom and lady #2 and her partner would call the next, and so forth.  This was not standard practice at private balls (where the first couple would more likely be the highest-ranking) or small informal dances.  So it’s not necessary for accuracy, though it’s an option if one wants to reenact one particular sort of event.

 —————————————–

I’m not suggesting everyone doing “Jane Austen balls” or Regency balls with their modern English country dance group or for schools or whatever should adopt all of the above; I am quite realistic about the odds of that happening.  But I hope this gives some idea of why I feel like choosing dances (in the modern sense) from the proper time period is not some wild ideal but the absolute minimum one should be doing.