Traditional Russian Music and Dance

Note: This article has been excerpted from a larger work in the public domain and shared here due to its historical value. It may contain outdated ideas and language that do not reflect TOTA’s opinions and beliefs.

From Excursions in the Interior of Russia by Robert Bremner, 1839.

Passing from these physical pursuits, we shall find that in nothing are the imitative qualities of the Russians better seen, than in their national amusements and pastimes. To aid them in these, they possess great powers of mimicry; their excellence in which is of course greatly seconded by another endowment which, as may be inferred, from allusions already made, they possess in no ordinary degree of liveliness.

They are blessed with an astonishing flow of animal spirits. The fun and drollery displayed among them, when two or three are banded together on an idle holiday, are inexhaustible. Their wit is surpassed only by their playfulness and good-humour. On such occasions, dancing is a favourite amusement; and as for singing, whether there be holiday or not, they torment you with it beyond endurance.

They sing for ever; such singing as makes you wish them fifty miles away. It is only the untutored song, however, that is disagreeable: when taught, they make excellent musicians. The regimental bands, it is well known, are among the best in Europe. So strong is their natural turn for music, that a lad taken from the plough will play the most difficult pieces in six months, on any instrument that may have been selected for him.

These qualities of imitation and liveliness make them excellent actors. They are born comedians; even the most vulgar of them showing a strong passion for everything dramatic. On the stage, consequently, they are extremely natural, and keep the audience in constant laughter.

The national dance is very pretty. As seen in the theatre, it is an artificial unnatural series of complicated evolutions, intended to show the skill of the artiste, more than the real features of the dance, of which only some of the characteristics are retained. The true place for seeing it in perfection is among a group of peasants, keeping holiday in some of the suburbs.

We had wandered out in one of the finest evenings of July, through the wide, quiet lanes in the lower part of the Vassilii-Ostroff. Scarcely a creature was stirring in the calm sunset. We had reached the place where the houses almost terminate, or, at least, become more rare ; where little is to be seen but extensive green meadows, neglected and marshy, with low bushes and rough trees scattered about. In short, there was so little to interest, that we began to think of returning, when a shout of laughter from the neighbourhood of some houses farther on induced us to advance. It came from a large group, assembled in a shady green lane, young men and maidens, all in the national dress.

It was an unmixed Russian scene. Within the group stood a ring of dancers. Shortly, a youth touched a small instrument, the simplest ever heard: it was their balileka, a tiny thing of white fir-wood, shaped like a guitar, but only an inch thick, and with no more than three small strings, which the little boy jingled in a sort of measured way with his fingers, without attempting any thing like a tune. The sound was so faint that it was scarcely heard a few yards off, but no sooner was it struck than the whole ring was in motion, wreathed hand in hand. It is a beautiful dance, with something of classic gracefulness, and not the least motion that could be offensive to delicacy. As they twisted and turned, now moving slow, now quick, the descriptions of the mazy dance of ancient Greece recurred to the memory.

Soon, however, the whole again stood still, the dancers unlinked their hands, a maiden stood forth, and waved her white kerchief slowly and gracefully towards a youth, who, on the signal, pursued her round the ring at respectful distance. Once she allowed him to come near: but again she fled. At short intervals they would pause, and dance before each other, the youth now beating his right foot, in regular measure, on the sward, now waving his flowing caftan not inelegantly, as he turned in giddiness away from the glances of his beloved. At length it seemed as if the lover was to be rewarded with his mistress's hand ; but ever as he took courage to come nearer, the coy maiden was off, flying from, yet courting his pursuit. This part of the dance continued till despair made him abandon the chase; on which the circle was again formed, and all tripped merrily round. There is nothing violent in these dances; every motion is slow and dignified; the woman resting her arms akimbo, and her partner calculating each step he is to make. All the men were in holiday dress; long blue robes, striped shirts, wide trousers, and huge boots.

The lovely evening invited to a farther stroll on the beach. On coming back to the merry crowd, the dance had given way to the song. The maidens had left the group, but the men had formed a larger ring, and, united by their handkerchiefs from hand to hand, were moving slowly round two of their number, a biff one and a little, standing in the centre. All the time this was going on, the whole band were singing a slow and very striking melody, which strongly resembled some of our old Scotch airs. They sung in parts, and kept up a kind of dramatic scene, of which those in the middle sustained the principal characters. The words, of course, were unintelligible to us; but the excellent pantomime which followed spoke for itself, especially where the big one feigned himself fatigued, and the little one, who had a handkerchief tied round his head, and acted the part of a female, tenderly taking off his (or her) partner's hat, fans him with well-assumed anxiety. She then wipes and braids his hair, opens his vest to give him air, and finally prevails on him to renew the dance.

We are not ignorant that some of the Russian dances are of a much less innocent character; but on this occasion, at least, it was impossible not to be struck with the orderly conduct of the lower classes. We had already experienced that it was possible to wander the streets all day long without meeting a single instance of rudeness; and we now discovered that strangers might look even on their amusements, when neither policeman nor patrole was within reach, without being at all annoyed.

Several ladies, and other casual passengers, were attracted to this group of youngsters, and listened attentively to their fine singing. In England, such intruders would soon have been driven away by improper language, if not maltreated for their curiosity; but here, all went on as if no stranger had been near. Some of the dancers were in the boat as we recrossed; but they seemed more intent in watching the lightning, as it flashed, bright and frequent, on the clear bosom of the Neva, than in eyeing their late visitors.

Robert Bremner, Excursions in the Interior of Russia (London: H. Colburn, 1839), 164-169.

Robert Bremner

World Dance

A celebration of new and traditional dances from around the world!

View Group