However, to truly understand "Baroque dance" in depth—its style, its evolution, and the complex role of dancing masters during the Baroque era—one must look a little further back.

STYLE AND GENESIS

From the sequence of steps to fluid movement

French Baroque dance marks not merely a stylistic variation, but a fundamental watershed in the history of European dance. Whilst the Italian style of the Renaissance (the Quattrocento and Cinquecento) still functioned in a strongly additive manner—stringing together virtuoso individual steps—a completely new syntax of movement developed in France. The focus was no longer on the isolated feat, but on the flow, the connection (liaison), and the hierarchical structuring of movement sequences.

The seeds of this development can already be found in 1588 in Thoinot Arbeau's pioneering work "Orchésographie". Arbeau describes how elementary building blocks (mouvements and pas simples) are synthesized into complex structures, the so-called pas composés. Yet what was still theory for Arbeau became magnificent practice under Louis XIII.

The Symbiosis of Bowing and Dance Step
The decisive catalyst for this flourishing was the institutional amalgamation of music and dance. From 1620 onwards, the sound at the French court changed dramatically: the renowned "Vingt-quatre Violons du Roy" (the King's 24 Violins) established a new, rhythmically incisive style of musicianship. This tapestry of sound was not mere accompaniment; it was the metronome for choreographic development. During this era, the boundaries between musician and dancer were fluid, often even non-existent. A dancing master was strictly obliged to master the violin, for the phrasing of the bow stroke dictated the dynamics of the step.

The Beauchamp Dynasty
Pierre Beauchamp, who would later revolutionize dance for Louis XIV, did not simply stumble upon this talent. He was the heir to a highly specialized dynasty. His uncle (also named Pierre) and his father Louis were already members of the Vingt-quatre Violons and served Louis XIII. The knowledge of the inseparable unity of acoustic and visual rhythm was refined here from generation to generation.

The Cultural Export: France as the Model A key figure in the international dominance of the French style was Jacques Cordier, better known by the name "Bocan". He was the archetype of the mobile, well-connected Baroque artist. As a member of the Vingt-quatre Violons and a celebrated dancing master, he is credited with developing the Baroque form of the courante and the minuet—dances that would dominate the ballrooms of Europe for over a century.

Cordier acted as a cultural diplomat. He instructed no fewer than five queens and exported the "French taste" to the English court of Charles I, as well as to various German princely courts. This marked the beginning of a cultural hegemony: long before French troops marched across Europe, French dance had already conquered England and Germany.

Early publications impressively substantiate this. For instance, Johann Georg Pasch published manuals in Germany as early as 1659 that propagated the French style, whilst Bray pursued a similar objective in England in 1699. The "branding" is noteworthy here: in England, these complex forms of movement were explicitly classified as "French Dances" in order to distinguish them from their own, more rustic "Country Dances".

Conclusion: A Living Legacy
In summary, French Baroque dance was far more than mere courtly etiquette; it was a highly complex physical discipline founded upon a perfect structural symbiosis with the music. Masters such as Beauchamp and Cordier were the architects of this system. Their legacy is not to be understood sentimentally—it is technically tangible: today, every time a plié is executed in classical ballet, or a courante is heard in a piano suite by Bach, we encounter the structural echo of this era.

TYPOLOGY AND METAMORPHOSIS

From Etiquette to Spectacle

The dance culture of the Baroque era was not a monolithic entity, but rather a dualistic world, strictly delineated by function and space. On the one hand stood the ballroom as a venue for social positioning; on the other, the stage as a realm of illusion and technical virtuosity.

The Ballroom: Dance as a Social Ritual (Danse de Bal)
In a social context, the dances—frequently grouped together as danses de bal—served primarily to maintain courtly order. One did not dance merely for pleasure here, but to represent one's social standing. Consequently, a ball followed an unyielding protocol: the opening was often marked by the branle, a line dance that physically mapped the hierarchy of those present—invariably led by the royal couple. It was not until the late eighteenth century that this ceremonial opening was increasingly superseded by the majestic polonaise.

The core repertoire comprised dances such as the courante, the bourrée, and, above all, the minuet. The latter was regarded as the "queen of dances" and constituted a microcosmic drama of approach and retreat. It was executed employing a refined terre-à-terre technique, which eschewed leaps but, for that very reason, demanded supreme and uninterrupted bodily control. Finally, as a counterpoint to this French austerity, country dances (known in France as contredanses) became established. They introduced a more democratic and geometrically simpler form to the ballrooms, wherein social interaction among multiple couples and shared amusement took precedence.

The Stage: The Birth of the Professional (Danse de Théâtre)
In parallel, theatrical dance (danse de théâtre) developed, which was technically far more demanding than the courtly repertoire. Here, virtuoso leaps, complex turns, and the so-called grotesque dances (danses grotesques), which depicted comical or even demonic characters, found their place. A decisive turning point occurred in 1670, when Louis XIV permanently retired from the stage. Up to that point, the King himself had participated in the ballets de cour. His departure created a void that was henceforth filled by specialized professional dancers.

This development was institutionalized as early as 1671 with the opera "Pomone". Dance definitively transformed into a profession. This was accompanied by a significant gender shift: whereas female roles had long been danced by men en travestie (in women's attire), from 1681 onwards women—spearheaded by pioneers such as Mademoiselle de La Fontaine in Le Triomphe de l’Amour—conquered the professional stage and lastingly altered aesthetic perception.

The Revolution of Expression: The End of Geometry
The records known today in Feuillet notation primarily document the geometrically oriented phase of Baroque dance, the so-called belle danse. However, from 1730 onwards, the requirements underwent a fundamental transformation. As opera houses grew increasingly larger, the intricate footwork of the belle danse became scarcely discernible from afar. This was the hour of the reformers, most notably Jean-Georges Noverre.

Noverre rejected the mere virtuosity and rigid masks of his predecessors, advocating instead for the ballet d’action (action ballet). His objective was no longer purely aesthetic form, but profound emotion. Through pantomime and expression, the dancer was to narrate a story that would move the audience to tears. This emotional approach also elucidates the gradual disappearance of dance notation: Noverre's dramatic principle could hardly be captured in the rigid symbols of Feuillet notation. While some technicians still relied on mass choreographies, in the long term, the dramatic principle triumphed, whereby ballet became an independent theatrical art, detached from opera.

Conclusion: A Dual Legacy
Thus, we look back today upon Baroque dance as a fascinating, dual legacy. On the one hand, we are left with the cool, aristocratic elegance of the belle danse, which we can reconstruct with precision thanks to historical notation. On the other hand stands the emotional impact of the ballet d’action, which paved the way for the modern narrative ballet and guided dance away from geometry towards human expression.

THE DOMESTICATION OF THE EPHEMERAL

The Art of Dance Notation

At its core, the history of dance notation is the heroic attempt to wrest the ephemeral—the fleeting moment of movement—from transience and to transfer it into a permanent, transmissible form. In the intellectual climate of the 17th century, characterized by an urge to systematize and catalogue the world, numerous scholars and practitioners sought a visual code for the human body in space. Early pioneers, such as the dancing master Samuel Rudolph Behr, developed rudimentary tables of signs as early as the late 17th century, attempting to translate the complexity of dance into a legible syntax. His pursuit of a method that went beyond mere oral tradition testifies to a new understanding of dance as an autonomous art form worthy of documentation.

During this era of artistic awakening, luminaries such as Favier, Lorin, and Pierre Rameau experimented with various approaches to notation. While Favier relied on a system that adapted principles of musical notation, others developed meticulously illustrated manuscripts that more closely resembled pictorial documentation. However, the true paradigm shift occurred with the introduction of the so-called Beauchamp-Feuillet notation. Published in 1700 by Raoul-Auger Feuillet under the title "Choréographie"—a term that literally meant the "writing of dance" at the time—this system rapidly established itself as the European gold standard.

The genius of the Feuillet notation lay in its power of abstraction: a central line on the paper marked the dancer's path on the floor, while laterally arranged symbols provided precise information regarding steps, leaps, turns, and timing in relation to the music. This graphical elegance allowed the architectural structure of a choreography to be captured with mathematical precision. In order to make this complex and fascinating knowledge accessible once again for contemporary dance practice, I have distilled my many years of pedagogical experience into a specialized primer.

This “Brief Guide to Notation” serves as an educational bridge, rendering the cryptic symbols of the Baroque era legible and tangible for modern dancers and researchers.

With the advent of modernity and the technological upheavals of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, a demand arose for new systems capable of capturing the vertical dimension and dynamics of modern dance. Highly complex methods emerged, such as Rudolf von Laban’s Labanotation or the Benesh Movement Notation, which remain in use in scholarly dance documentation to this day. Yet, however precise these notation systems may be, they have been largely superseded in widespread practice by the invention of video recording. Moving images can capture the visual essence of dance, its nuances, and individual interpretation with an immediacy that no written notation could ever achieve.

Nevertheless, the significance of historical dance notations remains undiminished. They are far more than mere instruction manuals for steps; they are cultural-historical documents that reveal to us the aesthetics, spatial awareness, and mindset of past centuries. Even though video technology dominates documentation today, the study of Baroque notation remains the sole means to comprehend the structural purity and compositional logic of the Belle Danse in its original depth. Thus, these historic symbols continue to serve as inspiration today, revitalizing the magic of the Baroque in the present.

THE RHETORIC OF THE BODY

Affect and Expression in Dance

The world of Baroque dance reveals a fascinating spectrum of expressive forms that extend far beyond the mere mastery of step sequences; they demand and involve the entire body as an instrument of communication. It is a dance form of a paradoxical nature: on the one hand, its clear structure facilitates an accessible introduction; on the other hand, its flawless execution demands considerable physical and intellectual penetration. The fascination herein lies in its playful elegance and profound dance-rhetorical finesse. According to the Baroque understanding, dance was a "mute eloquence," wherein every gesture and turn aimed to depict and evoke specific affects—that is, human passions.

Within these choreographies, sophisticated step sequences amalgamate with the aim of portraying the entire spectrum of human existence. Baroque dance did not shy away from extremes: the portrayal of burning wrath and profound despair found its place just as much as the parodic character study of an intoxicated dancer. An excellent example of this narrative richness is the so-called "Turkish Dance" (a testament to the vogue for Turquerie of the era). Here, the protagonist, Pasha Suliman, endeavours to impress his beloved through quasi-military drilling. His clumsy, flawed actions thereby become a dramaturgical device: the supposed corrections of his mistakes culminate in highly complex, virtuosic leaps that demand the dancer's comedic talent. The charming parody by his beloved in her soloistic reply and the subsequent, powerfully wild finale illustrate how the dance humorously reflected social dynamics and gender roles.

A stark contrast to this is provided by the monumental "Passacaille" from Jean-Baptiste Lully's opera "Armide". Here, playfulness yields to an existential gravity. In this form, which is founded upon a repetitive ground bass, fury and love merge into a desperate struggle. The choreography renders the solo dancer almost a plaything of her own emotions; she is tossed to and fro by the musical waves, whilst her movements visualize the inner turmoil of an unrequited or tragic love. Such depictions demonstrate that Baroque dance was a form of psychological realism avant la lettre, long before modern theatre coined the term.

The earnest engagement with these dances therefore necessitates far more than technical dexterity; it demands the courage for expressivity and the intellectual ambition to fully immerse oneself in Baroque aesthetics. One must be prepared to be swept away by the complex geometry and the required expression. Only through this total devotion can the true beauty and vital energy of this art form be comprehended. In an age where dance techniques are frequently reduced to mere athleticism, Baroque dance retains its unique value as an homage to an era that celebrated the unity of mind, body, and emotion. Whoever embarks upon this journey discovers not only history, but experiences the powerful, timeless connection between music and human sentiment.

THE DEMOCRATISATION OF THE BALLROOM

The Triumph of the Country Dances

In the evolutionary history of Baroque dance, the rise of English social dances—known today as country dances or contredanses—marks a watershed that profoundly altered the social dynamics within the ballroom. These forms originated in Tudor and Stuart Britain. Although it is frequently rumoured that Queen Elizabeth I already harboured a predilection for these vivacious formations, their cultural-historical codification did not occur until 1651. In that year, John Playford published his seminal work, "The English Dancing Master". This manual constituted a revolution, for it recorded the hitherto orally transmitted dances in a systematic textual format for the first time, thereby rendering them accessible to a broader, ascendant social class.

The decisive turning point for continental European dance history occurred around the year 1680. An embassy led by the renowned dancing master Mr Isaac introduced the secrets of this English art of dancing to the court of Louis XIV. French court society, which had hitherto been defined by the rigorous and frequently soloistic etiquette of the belle danse, was captivated by this novel, interactive spatial geometry. In contrast to hierarchical couple dancing, the country dance in its typical longways formation—comprising two facing lines of ladies and gentlemen—offered a social permeability that captured the spirit of the age. From 1706 onwards, this enthusiasm was further theoretically underpinned when Raoul-Auger Feuillet and, subsequently, André Lorin developed detailed notation systems to record the complex floor patterns of the English dances in precise Baroque dance notation.

These dances conquered not merely the magnificent royal residences, but also the public assembly rooms and the private salons of the nobility and the bourgeoisie. Particularly noteworthy is the early form of their dissemination through print media: instructions for new country dances were frequently published in newspapers and periodicals. Resembling a precursor to the modern arts supplement or indeed contemporary fitness tutorials, these publications functioned as weekly updates for urban society. One learnt the newest figures directly from the page in order to shine socially at the forthcoming ball. This "mediatisation" of dance contributed decisively to the emergence of a uniform European taste in dance.

From the original English forms, the contredanses françaises evolved in France, emphasising the square formation and ultimately paving the way for the cotillon and the quadrille of the nineteenth century. This evolution demonstrates the immense adaptability of the country dance to the prevailing spirit of the age. Yet, with the dawn of the Biedermeier era and the inexorable triumph of the waltz, the star of these geometric group dances began to wane. The waltz superseded the complex interaction of the group with the intimate closeness of the couple; the architectural elegance of the contredanse receded behind the intoxicating rotation.

Although today these dances are often presumed to reside solely within the dusty annals of history, their legacy remains vibrant within the structure of our modern social dances. They were the premier testament to a dance culture that married elegance with community, transforming the dance floors of Europe into a surging sea of calculated geometry and unadulterated joie de vivre. In the reconstructed choreographies of the present day, we can still perceive the spirit of that epoch, in which a dance step was not merely a movement, but a social statement.

PIERRE BEAUCHAMP

The Architect of Movement

In the radiant aura of the Court of Versailles, where the arts functioned as a political manifesto of absolutism, a figure emerged whose influence would cement the foundations of classical dance to the present day: Pierre Beauchamp. Born in 1636, he descended from the legendary Mazuel dynasty, a family of musicians and dancing masters whose work had shaped French court culture for generations. His life’s path was no coincidence, but rather the logical continuation of an artistic heritage that he would elevate to new heights with unprecedented genius. At the tender age of eleven, he made his debut in the Ballet du dérèglement des passions and astonished the court with an almost ethereal lightness—a physicality that appeared to defy gravity, marking him early on as an exceptional prodigy.

This extraordinary virtuosity did not elude the young Louis XIV. The "Sun King", himself a passionate dancer and athlete, appointed Beauchamp as his personal mentor. For over two decades, Beauchamp served as the monarch’s physical echo; they shared the stage, developed choreographies, and merged into a symbiotic relationship that ennobled dance to the highest art of state. In this climate of constant artistic innovation, Beauchamp found his ideal collaborators in Jean-Baptiste Lully and the playwright Molière. Together, this triumvirate forged the genre of the comédie-ballet, a hybrid art form that fused acting, music, and dance into a satirical yet highly aesthetic unity. Beauchamp’s genius lay in his ability to bring complex characters to life not through words, but through the pure rhetoric of the body.

Yet Beauchamp’s historical merit extends far beyond the limelight of theatrical productions. He was the first great analyst of movement. Legend has it that he even studied the fluttering of pigeons in the streets of Paris to fathom the mechanics of flight and balance. From these observations and his years of practice, he distilled the essence of dance: he defined the five basic positions of the feet, which to this day constitute the immutable alphabet of every ballet dancer worldwide. With the codification of the en dehors—the outward rotation of the legs—he established the anatomical prerequisite for the immense freedom of movement and virtuosity that characterize classical ballet.

The foundation of the Académie Royale de Danse in 1661 ultimately marked the definitive transition of dance from a chivalric exercise to an academic discipline. As its leading figure and royal choreographer, Beauchamp shaped a new generation of professionals. Under his regime, dance emancipated itself from the strictures of courtly.

THE MEASURED PLEASURE

Baroque Dance in the Mirror of the Encyclopedia

During the Baroque era and at the dawn of the Enlightenment, a quiet revolution took place: the knowledge of the world was reordered. Whereas the Renaissance ideal of the "universal genius", such as Leonardo da Vinci, sought to unite all knowledge within a single person, the sheer explosion of discoveries in the 17th century necessitated a new form of organization. The hour of the academies and the great reference works had struck. For Baroque dance, this signified an accolade: it transitioned from a fleeting courtly amusement to a subject of scientific inquiry, meticulously dissected in the lexicons and dictionaries of its time.

From Erudition to Definition
The concept of the "encyclopedia"—originally the Greek enkyklios paideia for a comprehensive education—transformed in the 17th century into an alphabetically organized repository of knowledge. With the founding of the Académie Française in 1635 under Louis XIII, the foundation stone was laid for France's first authoritative lexicon. The idea of the "Dictionnaire universel" was born.

Within this intellectual inventory, using terms such as "pas" (step) or "choreography" as examples, one can strikingly trace how the status of dance initially surged, only to wane again following the French Revolution. A fascinating detail in this conceptual history is the transition from "orchesography" (after Thoinot Arbeau) to "choreography". While Raoul-Auger Feuillet coined this new term in 1700 with his treatise "Chorégraphie, ou l'art de décrire la danse", John Weaver's English translation in 1706 conservatively adhered to the title "Orchesography"—evidence of the varying pace of theoretical development across Europe.

The Increasing Depth of Dance Scholarship
The intensity with which lexicographers devoted themselves to dance is astonishing from a modern perspective:

1680 (Richelet): The entry on the dance step remains meager, restricted to a few lines concerning the general "pas de ballet".

1690 (Furetière): Only ten years later, the description already encompasses 28 sub-terms and fills half a page—a testament to the rapid codification by the dancing masters.

1751 (Diderot & d'Alembert): In the monumental Encyclopédie, this documentation reaches its zenith. Four pages of text and two detailed illustrative plates are dedicated solely to choreography. Dance had definitively become a "science of the arts".

Specialization and the "Knightly Exercises"
The accumulation of knowledge led to specialization early on. Interestingly, dance initially found refuge in works outside its immediate discipline. For instance, Jacques Ozanam's "Dictionnaire mathématique" (1691) contains a substantial chapter on music featuring precise specifications for dance tempi—here, dance was conceived as applied mathematics and physics.

Particularly curious and revealing is the "Lexicon of Riding, Hunting, Fencing, Dancing, or Knightly Exercises" (Reit-, Jagd-, Fecht-, Tanz- oder Ritter-Exercitien-Lexicon) by Valentino Trichter (1742). Here, dance is quite officially counted among the knightly virtues. This demonstrates that the physical education of the nobility was understood as an inseparable unity of martial prowess (fencing/riding) and social representation (dance). In 1787, this development culminated in the first exclusive dance encyclopedia, the "Dictionnaire de danse" by Charles Compan, which consolidated the entire knowledge of the epoch across nearly 400 pages.

The End of an Era: From Dance to Physical Exercise
Following the French Revolution, the perspective altered radically. Dance lost its central significance as a marker of social distinction for the nobility. In the encyclopedias of the turn of the century, we increasingly find references to dance in works oriented towards general physical conditioning.

Although Gerhard Vieth still dedicated a large chapter to dance in his "Attempt at an Encyclopedia of Physical Exercises" (Versuch einer Enzyklopädie der Leibesübungen) in 1795, by 1815, in the works of the "father of gymnastics" (Turnvater) Friedrich Ludwig Jahn, dance is found merely in the bibliography of his "German Gymnastics" (Deutsche Turnkunst). While Jahn lists the great treatises of Rameau, Feuillet, and Taubert, dance is no longer treated here as an art form or a knightly virtue, but merely as a historical appendage to gymnastics.

The study of these early encyclopedias remains an invaluable resource for us today. It assists us in answering questions concerning technique and aesthetics—and it raises the compelling question of which hidden sources the first encyclopedists drew their knowledge from, before the dancing masters themselves took up the pen.

A GENTLEMAN'S AMUSEMENT

Dance as a Fitness Trend of the Enlightenment

Imagine opening the entertainment section of a modern weekly newspaper and finding, right next to the crossword puzzle or yoga tutorial, detailed instructions for the latest dance steps of the season. What appears to us today as a curiosity was a lived reality in eighteenth-century England. Dance – once the exclusive privilege of kings and a propagandistic instrument of absolutism – emancipated itself after 1700 to become a "gentleman’s amusement," an integral part of bourgeois physical culture and the Enlightenment.

From Performer to Consumer: The Decline of the Dancing Masters' Authority
To understand this transformation, we must look back to the court of Louis XIV. During the Early Renaissance and the Baroque period, dance was political capital; the sovereign "staged himself," frequently taking on his own ballet roles, to physically demonstrate his power. The dancing masters of that era were key figures possessing enormous authority. They were often simultaneously fencing masters, masters of ceremonies, and members of the powerful fiddlers' guild, the Ménétriers.

However, this power crumbled with institutionalisation. With the foundation of the Académie royale de danse and the subsequent withdrawal of the Sun King from the stage (around 1670), everything changed. With the birth of professional opera in the work Bourgeois Gentilhomme (1671), the nobility evolved from performing dancers to consuming spectators. The dancing masters were forced to seek new fields of activity – and found them in the education of the bourgeoisie and the emerging media landscape.

The Triumph of the Country Dances
While the French courts increasingly rigidified in strict etiquette and piety, a vibrant dance tradition flourished in England. The "country dances" (often referred to as Playford dances, after the publisher John Playford) began their triumphant march across Europe. From 1730 onwards, something fascinating occurred: dance became mediatised.

Dance choreographies regularly appeared in London magazines such as The Universal Magazine or The Gentleman’s Magazine. These publications were the precursors to today's arts and culture sections. Here, contredanses bearing titles such as "Sukey Bids Me" or "The Jovial Tars" were printed – often including the melody and cryptic descriptions of the figures, which relied upon the specialist knowledge of the readers.

Dance as the Six-Pack Workout of the Rococo
Interestingly, dance during this period was increasingly comprehended as part of a "physical culture". In works such as Valentino Trichter's "Ritter-Exercitien-Lexicon" (1742) or later by Gerhard Vieth (1795), dance was positioned alongside wrestling, fencing, and swimming for "bodily edification". It was the birth of sport in the modern sense.

Yet this splendour lasted only until the turn of the century. After 1800, dance gradually vanished from the literature of physical culture. While the gymnastics (Turnkunst) of a Friedrich Ludwig Jahn (1816) merely mentioned dance in the bibliography, the perception had shifted: the once chivalric art for men was dismissed as an "effeminate" waste of time.

Nevertheless, the preserved lists of magazine dances – an impressive chronicle of over 300 titles – still bear witness today that dance was once the heartbeat of the Enlightenment: an amusement that kept both body and mind equally invigorated.

THE PHANTOM OF DANCE NOTATION

The Rediscovery of the Pas de Fleuret

In the realm of Baroque dance, there are truths that have been copied unchecked for so long that they have come to be regarded as irrefutable. One of these supposed certainties is the equation of the Pas de Fleuret with the Pas de Bourrée. Anyone consulting standard textbooks today will usually read: "Fleuret is merely another word for the Pas de Bourrée." Yet those who—like myself—decipher the dusty original sources of the 18th century soon realise: we are dealing here with an almost forgotten, distinct phenomenon that is far more than just a synonym.

The Source of the Misunderstanding
Paradoxically, the origin of this error lies in the "bible" of dance notation: Raoul-Auger Feuillet's "Chorégraphie" (1701). In his renowned table of steps, he includes the heading "Table des Pas de Bourée ou Fleurets". However, because Feuillet does not explicitly designate any single, individual step as a "Fleuret", subsequent authors and translators—even the otherwise meticulous Gottfried Taubert—began to use the terms synonymously. A fatal copying error in dance history was set in motion.

Yet when I stumbled upon Valentino Trichter's "Ritter-Exercitien-Lexicon" of 1742 a few years ago, my curiosity was piqued. Trichter writes with disarming clarity: "There are actually two different kinds of these; hence they are also designated by a twofold name." With that, the hunt for the lost step was opened.

Searching for Clues: From the Galliard to the Fencing Floor
The term "Fleuret" possesses deep roots. Thoinot Arbeau already mentions it in his Orchésographie in 1589, albeit as a leaping variation of the Galliard. In the 17th century, the picture blurs, but the Baroque manuscript of André Lorin (1688) provides us with the decisive clue: he employs distinct symbols for the Pas de Fleuret and the Pas de Bourrée.

But why "Fleuret"? The name derives from the foil (the rapier) used in the art of fencing. Trichter also explains why: during the Fleuret, the feet are "shifted and mingled amongst one another", much like the nimble backward and forward movements of a fencing bout. Whereas the standard Pas de Bourrée places the feet sequentially in an orderly line, the Fleuret is a "chasing step" (Chassé), wherein one foot effectively drives the other from its place.

Deciphering the Baroque Manner
The quest for the exact execution is akin to cryptanalytic work. To modern sensibilities, the descriptions provided by Taubert and Trichter are a labyrinth of digressions regarding rhythm, pliés, and minuet variations. If one filters out the essence, however, the technique becomes tangible:

The Fleuret is a flowing movement (Pas coulant) that follows in succession like a ripple of water. It consists of three movements:
A preparatory Demi-Coupé (plié and step).
Two further steps in Relevé (on the demi-pointe), whereby the second step is brought from behind into an Emboîté—almost like a Chassé without a leap.
A concluding step forward.

This discovery bridges a significant gap. The Fleuret is the Baroque missing link between the Spezzato of the Renaissance and the later Pas de Valse or Chassé of the Empire period. It is the "change step" of the Baroque: elegant, swift, and consistently executed on the point of the Relevé.

Why Was It Overlooked?
That the Fleuret faded from our collective memory is due to tangible reasons. For one, the specialised Baroque vocabulary of the 18th century is challenging to decipher even for native speakers. For another, the dancing masters of the era tended to presume the step was "known", preferring instead to lose themselves in rhythmic minutiae.

An additional, rather disagreeable reason lies in the discourse of the time. The German dancing masters of the 18th century often expressed themselves with a severity that is today (quite rightly) perceived as misogynistic: ladies were neither to leap high nor to execute expansive arm movements. Because the Fleuret was a dynamic, almost "masculinely athletic" fencing step, it was frequently neglected—or outright prohibited—in bourgeois educational literature for ladies.

A Living Legacy
Although the Fleuret is seldom found by name in the grand stage ballets (save in demanding solos for virtuosi such as Mlle Guiot), we encounter it in almost every Contredanse recorded by Lorin. And in all honesty: every dance instructor is familiar with the phenomenon among beginners who take the first step of the Pas de Bourrée too wide, are unable to "get past" with the second step, and then unconsciously lapse into a Fleuret—a subsequent change step.

The Pas de Fleuret, therefore, has never entirely vanished. It simply waited for us to read the old lexicons once more through the eyes of a dancer. It serves as a reminder that Baroque dance is not merely static elegance, but possesses a living, flowing, and occasionally almost martial dynamism.

The Legacy Between Reconstruction and Convenience
That the Pas de Fleuret leads a shadowy existence today, however, is not solely due to the complexity of the sources. It is also the result of a paradoxical development within the contemporary Baroque dance scene.

Many of the teachers and choreographers active today rely almost exclusively upon the pioneering work of Francine Lancelot and the subsequent school of the 1980s. As invaluable as this impetus was at the time, it has today led to a kind of stagnation: one teaches what was once established as "historically sound" without critically re-examining the underlying sources—such as Taubert or Trichter.

We are observing a creeping shift towards a "Modern Baroque". Rather than continuing to perfect historical reconstruction and reintegrating lost nuances like the Fleuret into the repertoire, the dance is frequently smoothed over aesthetically and adapted to modern viewing habits. The Fleuret, with its fencing-like dynamism and rhythmic idiosyncrasy, disrupts this polished image. Ignoring it is simpler than unsettling the established system.

True authenticity, however, does not arise from the copying of modern paradigms, but from the courage to confront the contradictions of the original texts. To dance the Pas de Fleuret once more is to choose against the trend of oversimplification, thereby restoring to the art of Baroque dance its true, complex depth.

LA FOLIE D'ESPAGNE

A Dance on the Political Stage

There are melodies that breathe the spirit of an entire era, and the Folie d’Espagne is undoubtedly their immortal echo. From Lully and Marais to Bach, Vivaldi, and Beethoven, through to Rachmaninoff—well over twenty composers have varied this theme. Yet how could a simple, unmistakable melody achieve such universal popularity? The answer lies not solely in its musical genius, but in one of the greatest propagandistic manoeuvres of the French Crown.

The Musical Theft: Lully and the Legacy of Cordier
Music theory frequently traces the Follia back to Francisco de Salinas (circa 1577). However, the form we recognize today is mostly attributed to Jean-Baptiste Lully, who popularized it in 1672. The historical truth, however, is somewhat more piquant: a work entitled ‘Folies d’Espagne’ (noted on the spine) can already be found in a music collection belonging to Jacques Cordier, who died in 1653.

Lully, the ambitious genius at the court of Louis XIV, appropriated the work of his deceased colleague, as he so often did. Not only the Folie, but also the first minuet—ostensibly the Sun King’s favourite dance—can be found in Cordier’s estate before Lully marketed it as his own creation in his ballets from 1655 onwards.

1701: Dance as a Diplomatic Weapon
The birth of the Folie’s global popularity took place on 14 December 1701. Before the eyes of Louis XIV, his grandson Philip danced the Folie d’Espagne in Spanish habit. It was an event of immense consequence: Charles II, the last Spanish Habsburg, had died and named Philip as his successor. The War of the Spanish Succession was imminent.

Although dancing monarchs had strictly speaking been ‘out of fashion’ since 1670, the repertoire of ancient customs was drawn upon deeply for this propaganda campaign. Philip’s performance was intended to signal to the world: the ‘Sang Réal’—the true Spanish blood and the true Spanish spirit—was now being preserved by France.

The French Construct of the ‘Spanish’
Close inspection exposes the ‘typically Spanish’ elements of this period as a purely French construct. The melody? By Cordier or Lully—French. The choreography? By Feuillet—French. The dancer? Philip—a native Frenchman. It was a stroke of genius: France claimed to embody Spain better than Spain itself.

This was by no means due to the influence of Louis’s consort, Marie-Thérèse d’Autriche. Like all princesses of her time, she was obliged to sever all ties with her homeland upon marriage. Marie Antoinette later wrote vividly in her letters of the ceremonial act of crossing the border ‘naked’ in order to leave all foreign influence behind. An heir to the throne had to be born free from ‘false’ (foreign) influences.

Conclusion: The Immortality of a Fiction
The Folie d’Espagne owes its triumphant march through the European courts not to its origins, but to its instrumentalization. Reports of Philip’s dance spread like wildfire. The melody became a symbol of claims to power and national identity. That we perceive it today as the epitome of Spanish temperament is the ultimate proof of the success of eighteenth-century French propaganda.

THE QUEEN OF DANCES

The Minuet versus the Courante

In modern programmes and historical novels, the minuet is almost reflexively styled the 'Queen of Dances'. Yet anyone who delves deeply into the sources of the 17th and 18th centuries will discover a paradox: this majestic title is a product of nostalgia. It was not until 1882 that the French writer Guy de Maupassant, in his novella Menuet, had an old dancing master wistfully declare: "Le menuet, Monsieur, c'est la reine des danses, et la danse des Reines." What was intended as a literary homage to a bygone era became presumed historical fact – and has since obscured the true hierarchy of the Sun King's court.

The Courante: The Touchstone of the Nobility
During the High Baroque period under Louis XIV, it was not the minuet that was the measure of all things, but the courante. It was the King's undisputed favourite dance and was considered the absolute test of maturity for gravitas, noblesse, and perfect physical control. Whereas the minuet in its infancy was still regarded as somewhat rustic, brisk, and almost 'simple' (derived from the branle de Poitou), the courante demanded arduous, complex footwork that could only be mastered through years of rigorous training.

Contemporary witnesses are unequivocal on this point: the English diarist Samuel Pepys noted in the 1660s that court balls invariably opened with the courante – a mark of the highest ceremonial dignity. In the memoirs of the Duc de Saint-Simon we find corroboration of this practice; the courante was the portal to the ball, the physical manifestation of the French courtly ideal.

The Trap of Image Cataloguing
A principal reason for today's misunderstanding lies in the archiving practices of our museums. A vast majority of the titles of paintings and engravings found in today's catalogues do not date from the period the works were created, but rather from the late inventorying of the 19th and 20th centuries. During this time, 'minuet' became a convenient default term for any depiction of Baroque dance.

This leads to grotesque misinterpretations: today we find countless engravings explicitly entitled 'The Minuet', even though the dancers depicted clearly execute leaps or dynamic poses that physically have no place in the earthbound technique of the minuet. This blanket nomenclature has buried true knowledge of the diversity of Baroque dance forms – from the rigaudon to the gigue – beneath a thick layer of 'minuet nostalgia'.

The Anatomy of the 'Low Dances' (Danses Basses)
Technically speaking, the courante, minuet, and bourrée form a closely related family: they are the classical danses basses (low dances). This term is not a social derogation, but a technical classification. In contrast to the danse haute – the high, leaping style of the theatre or the Renaissance – the feet in the danse basse scarcely leave the floor.

The core of this technique is the 'douze': the elegant gliding, the controlled bending (plié), and the proud rising (élever). Within this group, the courante was the reverent, almost sacral culmination of the danse basse, before the minuet assumed this role in the 18th century.

The Change of Eras: From Baroque to Rococo
The transition from Baroque to Rococo can be observed in the ballroom as a gradual process of simplification and acceleration. Even in the writings of dancing masters such as Samuel Rudolph Behr or Gottfried Taubert, one finds remarks that the courante was becoming increasingly unfamiliar or too arduous for pupils.

Rococo sources, such as those of James Boswell or the Duc de Croÿ, ultimately reveal the completed picture: the minuet had supplanted the courante as the foremost ceremonial dance. It was more practical, more flexible, and corresponded to the galant spirit of the times. The minuet became the 'Queen' because the courante became too demanding for a society that increasingly sought lightness rather than strict gravitas.

SONNE, MOND & STERNE

The Baroque Shadow-Play of Power

We often gaze upon Versailles as the luminous pinnacle of European civilization. Yet, behind the golden mask of Louis XIV lay a reality defined less by brilliance than by cold calculation and moral bankruptcy. While the Sun King styled himself as the sole dispenser of light for the Western world, he was secretly conspiring with the Crescent.

The so-called “ungodly alliance” (alliance impie) with the Ottoman Empire represented the ultimate betrayal of that very Christendom of which Louis claimed to be the “Most Christian” protector. In 1683, as Vienna fought for its very survival, the Sun waited in the West, calculating the profit to be reaped from the darkness encroaching from the East. It was the first instance of a perfect propaganda machine morally exalting a political system that was simultaneously undermining its own foundations.

The Architecture of Isolation: Versailles 1682
The official relocation of the court to Versailles in May 1682 marked a turning point from a living culture to a petrified etiquette. In the artificial seclusion of the palace, dance was transformed from a medium of inspiration into an instrument of domestication.

After Louis XIV himself withdrew from the stage in 1670, the court ballet—under the influence of an increasingly bigoted atmosphere fostered by Madame de Maintenon—mutated into a mere measure of discipline. The nobility no longer danced for edification but to validate their rank within a fossilized system. Innovations were viewed with suspicion or suppressed, as evidenced by the case of the dancing master André Lorin. Despite the superior quality of his work, he was denied a royal patent for his English Country Dances after 1680. The Sun tolerated no foreign light, even as the court itself hungered for the fresh impulses arriving from the British Isles.

The Stars of Resistance: System over Self-Staging
However, the true salvation of European culture did not emanate from the blinding solar centre, but from a new constellation: The Stars. Men such as William III of Orange and Prince Eugene of Savoy were derided by French propaganda as untalented, hideous, or mediocre. They possessed no theatrical glare and were deemed incapable of distinguishing themselves in the ballet choreographies of Versailles.

Yet, they possessed something far more substantial: A System. They did not perceive power as the emanation of a divine individual, but as a precise navigational tool. While Versailles celebrated its own transience through dance, the "Stars" established the Balance of Power, fostered modern science, and developed an intellectual freedom that ultimately rendered absolutism obsolete.

The Memory of the North and the Geometry of Vienna
The fact that this resistance was deeply rooted in culture and intellect is proven by the Wolfenbüttel festival scripts (Festschriften). In the great libraries of the North, power was manifested not through ephemeral pomp but through archiving and erudition. Here, what was merely staged in Versailles was documented for posterity.

Simultaneously, the Viennese court provided an aesthetic counterpoint with Johann Heinrich Schmelzer’s Rossballett (Equestrian Ballet) of 1667. In this highly complex fusion of music and collective horsemanship lay the answer to French narcissism: the mastery of the collective through order. It was the artistic dress rehearsal for the defence of 1683—the realization that the salvation of the West would depend not on the radiance of one man, but on the synchronized coordination of forces.

The Legacy of a Brilliant Deception
It remains a bitter irony of history that the propaganda of Louis XIV continues to exert its influence almost entirely unchallenged. While historical research has long since exposed the darker recesses of the era, modern crowds flock more than ever to contemporary ball stagings in the Hall of Mirrors at Versailles. In a peculiar continuation of Baroque blindness, visitors are fed a diet of “splendid plastic” and loud mainstream spectacle, while the actual art—the dance itself—is often afforded little more than twenty minutes of attention.

This success is particularly evident in the 1706 publication by Raoul-Auger Feuillet. In the midst of the War of the Spanish Succession, France “nationalized” English dances through a simplified notation, failing to appropriately acknowledge the true pioneers such as Mr Isaac and other English masters. The Sun may have been setting politically, but through this act of cultural appropriation, it secured its branding for eternity.

We admire the scenery of a man who sold his cultural heritage for hegemony, while overlooking the architects of modernity who stood in the shadows. The Sun may have shone the brightest, but the world was navigated by those Stars whom Versailles once derided as “untalented.” It is time to remove the sunglasses and see the Baroque shadow-play for what it truly was: a brilliant fraud that, even today, successfully obscures our view of substance. We admire the scenery of a man who sold his cultural heritage for hegemony, while overlooking the architects of modernity who stood in the shadows. The Sun may have shone the brightest, but the world was navigated by those Stars whom Versailles once derided as “untalented.” It is time to remove the sunglasses and see the Baroque shadow-play for what it truly was: a brilliant fraud that, even today, successfully obscures our view of substance.

Was the "Sun King" truly the gravedigger of dance?

We are all familiar with the images of Louis XIV as the radiant sun. He is considered the greatest patron of Baroque dance. However, my research reveals a different picture: from 1670 onwards, the King withdrew, professionalised the stage, and relegated the nobility from dancers to mere spectators.

In my latest research paper, "The Codified Body in Absolutism", I analyse why dance during that era was no mere pastime, but uncompromising power politics – and how illness and propaganda heralded the demise of courtly dancing.

Topics covered in the paper:
• The "dance killer" thesis: Why Louis XIV genuinely stopped.
• Beauchamp-Feuillet notation as a technology of power.
• From etiquette to spectacle: The transformation of the profession.

Read the full academic paper (PDF) now for free (soon avaiable in English too)

BAROQUE DANCE