In the grand, high-arched lobby of London's Bank of England Museum, the air hums with the sound of violins and lively chatter. Rows of dancers, women in flowing satin gowns and men in formal tailcoats, twirl and step in time to music that would have been familiar to Jane Austen herself. This scene is not from a film set but a vibrant, modern celebration for the author's 250th anniversary, part of a growing movement where fans of Austen and the hit series Bridgerton gather to recreate the social dances of the Regency period.
The Social Fabric of Historical Dance
These events, organised by historical dance societies across the United Kingdom, offer more than just a step back in time. They provide a cherished space for personal connection in an increasingly digital world. Irina Porter, who became friends with 73-year-old David Symington through dancing, highlights this value. "People who take part get a lot of personal interaction – something we are gradually losing," she says. The practice of frequently changing partners fosters introductions and a warm sense of community.
This sentiment is echoed by Gemima Lodge, 40, who describes the balls as "a really effective socialising space" where familiar faces lead to lasting connections. The commitment often extends to costume, a crucial element of the immersion. Attendees might commission specialist tailors, craft their own garments, or buy Bridgerton-inspired outfits online. Mary Davidson, 26, and Lian Cooper, 37, exemplify the DIY spirit, sewing Regency-era dresses from repurposed bedsheets, curtains, and secondhand sarees. "Everyone is so disconnected, stuck behind their phones now," Davidson observes. "We're harking back to old times. People have done this for hundreds of years, and it's really fun and social."
Decoding the Dance: From 18th-Century Manuals to Digital Animations
Recreating these dances requires careful scholarship. Organisers and enthusiasts pore over 18th-century manuals that originally instructed society on the popular contredanses (named for partners standing opposite each other). Sources range from John Playford's 1651 'The Dancing Master', which pairs sheet music with written instructions, to manuals by Thomas Wilson, filled with intricate swirling diagrams known as dance notation.
One pivotal system was the Beauchamp-Feuillet notation, first published by Raoul-Auger Feuillet in 1700. It recorded courtly dance steps in spiralling geometric patterns. For contredanses, Feuillet later created a Simplified Feuillet system, outlined in his 1706 manual, which focused on floor patterns rather than individual steps. This was translated into English by John Essex in 1710.
"It's the first visual guide we get," explains dance historian and archivist Jennifer Thorp. "You get the tune at the top of the page and then these floor plans telling people where to go." The notations sometimes included symbols for actions like clapping or wagging a finger, and dancers historically had choices in their steps.
Today, members like Paul Cooper of the Hampshire Regency Dancers bridge the gap between historical text and modern learning. He transforms the cryptic instructions and diagrams into digital animations. "The instructions, as written, are close to being a computer programme," Cooper notes, describing the iterative, algorithmic logic with conditional statements. "Some of these dancing masters would probably do quite well in the modern world as computer programmers." His work involves interpreting ambiguities, as the original texts are often terse and open to question.
Adapting History for Modern Joy
Some dances are thoughtfully adapted for contemporary participants. The Triple Minor, a popular country dance in Austen's day, originally involved three couples in a line where the first couple was most active and the third largely idle—a design that allowed for discreet conversation. "But that's not something we particularly care about in the modern world," says Cooper. "We're much more interested in enjoying the dance." His group adapted it so all couples rotate into the leading position, ensuring equal participation.
The community also revives obscure dances, giving them new life. The Duke of Kent's Waltz (c.1802) is now a "quite a swishy" favourite for the Hampshire group, according to caller Jorien van der Bor. She met Cooper at a dance, where he kept steadying her after she tripped on a carpet. As a caller—the person who teaches and prompts the moves during the music—Van der Bor orchestrates the room, adjusting her guidance to the group's skill level.
Some favourites come from screen adaptations, like Mr Beveridge's Maggot, the stately dance from the 1995 Pride and Prejudice TV series. "From a strict historian's point of view, we probably shouldn't be doing it. It's from well over a century earlier," Van der Bor admits. "But many people in our community just love that particular adaptation."
At the Bank of England ball, caller Helen Davidge cites The Duchess of Devonshire's Reel as a favourite. It was choreographed by Charles Ignatius Sancho, who was enslaved as a child and later became a noted composer and abolitionist. "It's very intuitive," Davidge says.
Davidge founded the Georgettes of Oxford dancing society in 2023. For her, historical dance blends community-building, a passion for history and ballet, and a form of escapism. "The world is so busy, and sometimes quite a scary place," she reflects. "To have a space to just come and focus on your body, dancing and sharing that with other people – it's a little break from the busyness of life."
