Play, music! And you, brides and bridegrooms all,
With measure heap’d in joy, to the measures fall.
When Shakespeare penned these lines for As You Like It, he was not just calling for a dance; he was directing his audience to a very specific kind of courtly performance.
These “measures” in the 16th century weren’t a named dance type like a waltz or a jig is today.
Instead, “measure” was a descriptor of a particular style, tempo, and demeanor – think of it as a set of instructions for how to dance, rather than what dance to do. These “measures” were fundamentally characterized by their sober dignity; forget wild leaps and boisterous turns, as measures demanded controlled, moderate movements, exuding a sense of gravity, poise, and refined etiquette. This sober approach was a visual manifestation of the court’s ideal image – one of order, sophistication, and self-control.
The very word “measure” suggests a carefully regulated shape being thrown on the floor, allowing for precision and a message tied to that formality and discipline.
So, before we imagine swirling gowns and lively, exuberant music, we need to add another crucial layer to that historical image: geometry. This is where the idea of the dance floor as a “living graph” becomes incredibly illuminating. Because the steps were sober and controlled, dancers could execute remarkably precise floor patterns. They weren’t just moving; they were actively drawing shapes across the dance space.
Each individual dancer served as a data point, meticulously plotted in their position at every beat of the music, and their paths traced the lines and curves, as graceful arcs formed by the collective group. The overall figures that emerged – perfect lines, circles, precise squares, intricate interwoven designs – were the shapes being created.
The choreography was a complex algorithm, a set of instructions for generating this dynamic graph, with the dancers acting as the skilled hands, their steps the strokes that rendered the visual representation of the pre-planned design.
This precise execution of movement is vividly portrayed in popular culture, such as in the memorable ballroom scene of the movie A Knight’s Tale before they let lose….
We see this in Maypole dancing too:
Why such precision and sobriety?
It all ties back to the profound purpose of courtly dance. It served as a display of status, with the controlled movements allowing for the full display of rich clothing and noble bearing, making every step an opportunity to showcase elegance and refinement. It was also a reflection of order, as in a highly hierarchical society, the ordered, symmetrical patterns of the measure visually reinforced social structures, making the dance a micro-representation of the desired harmony and control within the court. Furthermore, beyond entertainment, measures provided a formal setting for social interaction, observation, and the reinforcement of courtly etiquette; the “graph” they created wasn’t just beautiful, but a living diagram of social cohesion.
It’s important to remember that these “measures” often served as a prelude.
After this initial, more reserved opening, the mood would typically shift. Dancers would then transition to more lively and energetic forms like the galliard, the volta, or the coranto. These later dances involved more leaps, turns, and vigorous movements, requiring greater physical exertion and often a more intimate interaction between partners, culminating the joyous celebration hinted at in Shakespeare’s line “With measure heap’d in joy.”
This understanding also sheds light on characters like Jaques in As You Like It, who pointedly states,
…So, to your pleasures:
I am for other than for dancing measures.
By rejecting the “dancing measures” and opting to “stay to know at your abandon’d cave,” Jaques explicitly places himself outside of this constructive, socially ordered, and geometrically precise world. His choice is a deliberate withdrawal from the very communal harmony that the measures physically represent.
So, the next time you encounter a reference to 16th-century “measures,” don’t just think of a dance. Think of a meticulously choreographed performance where dignity met geometry, where a grand ballroom became a canvas, and where the dancers, through their sober and precise movements, were quite literally making a living graph of courtly order and elegance. It’s a truly fascinating glimpse into the cultural DNA of the Tudor era.
