Anna Pavlova

Nineteenth century decadence; sensationalism—Loie Fuller and the Serpentine dance—Louise Weber, Lottie Collins and others.

During the last half of the nineteenth century the art of dancing reached such a low level that Max Nordau said: ‘It is a fleeting pastime for women and youths, and later on its last atavistic survival will be the dancing of children.’ An English writer of that time wrote aptly: ‘In these days of culture, when the public mind is being trained to perceive and appreciate whatever is lovely in nature and art, when music is universally studied, when there is ample evidence of general improvement in taste and design in our streets, our buildings, on the walls and in the furniture of our homes, is it not strange that a single art, one which was in classic times deemed worthy to rank with poetry and painting—the art of dancing—has degenerated to such an extent that its practice, as frequently exhibited both in public and in private, is a positive disgrace to the age? This is no exaggerated statement. It is one which I think any competent critic is hardly likely to deny.’

The Skirt Dance, the Serpentine Dance, the High Kickers, the Nude Bayaderes were the sensations of the day. Here Lottie Collins, there Loie Fuller, now Letti Lind, then again Connie Gilchrist, figured as the greatest dance attractions of the day. London blamed Paris, Paris blamed New York. How much the craze for such an art had cast its spell on the public of that period is best illustrated by the immense sums of money that the theatrical managers paid for their shows. The gross receipts during one season in New York of ‘Humpty Dumpty,’ a celebrated ballet of that time, amounted to $1,406,000. It brought in a similar sum, if not more, outside.

I

A brilliant star of the sensational school of dancing was Loie Fuller, of Chicago. She made her New York dÉbut in ‘Jack Sheppard,’ with a salary of seventy-five dollars a week. While rehearsing a new play, she received from an English officer a present of an extremely fine Oriental robe that floated gracefully in the air. This gave her the idea of using it for her dancing. While making some experiments before the mirror, she noticed the effects brought about by the then newly invented electric light. She tried innumerable variations of poses and all were delightful. This was the birth process of the Serpentine Dance. J.E. Crawford Flitch writes of the incident:

‘The invention of the Serpentine Dance coincided with the discovery of electricity as a method of lighting the stage. Until that time gas alone had been used. Loie Fuller immediately saw the possibilities of the new scientific illumination, and with the aid of a few friends she devised a means by which the effect of the vivid sunshine could be obtained through the use of powerful electric lights placed in front of reflectors. Then various experiments with color were tried; for the white light of electricity were substituted different shades of reds, greens, purples, yellows, blues, by the combinations of which innumerable and wonderful rainbow-like effects of color were obtained. Played upon by the multitudinous hues, the diaphanous silk gave an impression of startling originality and beauty. Coming at the time when the artistic lighting of the stage was scarcely studied at all, the riot of color created a sensation. Nothing like it had been seen before. The old-fashioned limelight, the flickering gas-jets, the smoking red and blue flames dear to the Christmas pantomime, paled before this discovery of science which apparently possessed inexhaustible possibilities of a stage illuminant.’

Loie Fuller made a sensation in America, particularly in New York and Chicago. But her success was much greater when she gave spectacular performances to the morbid Berlin, Paris and London audiences. Her dÉbut at Folies BergÈres was more than a triumph. She became the rage of France. The management of the Folies BergÈres engaged her for three years at a salary of one thousand dollars a week. How greatly ‘La Loie,’ as she was called in Paris, impressed the French audiences is best to be seen in what one of the French critics writes of her: ‘We shall not easily forget the Serpentine Dance, undulating and luminous, full of weird grace and originality, a veritable revelation! By means of a novel contrivance, the gauzy iridescent draperies in which Loie Fuller swathes herself were waved about her, now to form huge wings, now to surge in great clouds of gold, blue, or crimson, under the colored rays of the electric light. And in the flood of this dazzling or pallid light the form of the dancer suddenly became incandescent, or moved slowly and spectrally in the diaphanous and ever-changing coloration cast upon it. The spectator never wearied of watching the transformations of these tissues of living light, which showed in successive visions the dreamy dancer, moving languidly in a chaos of figured draperies—in a rainbow of brilliant colors or a sea of vivid flames. And after having roused us to a pitch of enthusiasm by this luminous choreography, she appeared triumphant in the pantomime-ballet Salome, reproducing the gloomy episode of the death of John the Baptist.’ Among the dances that Loie Fuller had in her repertoire, besides the Serpentine Dance, were the Rainbow Dance, the Flower Dance, the Butterfly Dance, the Mirror Dance, and the Fire Dance. It is only natural that all her dances of this kind made necessary a vast paraphernalia of accessories and an army of assistants. The Fire Dance she performed in the centre of a darkened stage before an opening in the floor through which a powerful electric reflector threw up intensely brilliant rays. None of her dances had any classified steps, any poses, gestures of the kind employed by dancers of various other schools and different ages. The function of the limbs and arms was merely to put veils and draperies into motion.

II

Of somewhat the same class were the entertainments given by Louise Weber or ‘La Goulu,’ another American girl of the type of Loie Fuller. Occasionally she exhibited some skill in her kicking scenes. It is said that she never made pretension to rhythm and grace. Her ‘art’ was a negation of every beauty. It was a frenzied delirious gymnastic. An American critic says that her legs were agitated like those of a marionette, they pawed the air, jerked out in the manner of a pump-handle, and menaced the hats of the spectators.

Lottie Collins was a favorite of the English, French and American audiences, though she was little more than a jumper of a new style. The watchword of the ballet habituÉs of this time was novelty at any price. It is extremely amusing to read a Kansas City criticism of Miss Collins’ performance in that city: ‘Lottie Collins has the stage all to herself and she bounces and dances and races all over it in the most reckless and irresponsible way, precisely as if she were a happy child so full of health and spirits that she couldn’t keep still if she wanted to. Sometimes she simply runs headlong all the way round the stage, finishing the lap with perhaps a swift whirl or two, or a whisk and kick. Sometimes she simply jumps and bounces, and sometimes she doubles up like a pen-knife with the suddenness of a springlock to emphasize the “boom.” She is invariably in motion except when she stops to chant the gibberish that passes for verses, but the wonder is that she has breath enough to sing after the first cyclonic interlude.’

Still more debased were the performances of Olga Desmond, Villiani and others, who made erotic gestures and nude dances a fad of many European capitals. The argument of these dancers was that dancing, like sculpture, is predominantly an art of nudes. Only the naked body could show the perfect plastic lines and graceful poses. They strove to dance slow music, sonatas and symphonic poems, in order to display the effects of certain pretty poses and arabesques. They put a special stress upon the rhythm, but their interpretation was morbidly perverse.

The best figure of this decadent school of dancing was Kate Vaughan, who strove to follow the style and manners of Taglioni’s dance. But the sensation and novelty-loving public of England found her art too tame and old-fashioned, so she died in poverty and broken health in South Africa. Mr. Crawford Flitch says of her: ‘Although of course she never reached the perfection of her predecessor [Taglioni], it was to her careful training in the school of the ballet that she owed the ease and grace of her movements and the wonderful effect of spontaneity with which she accomplished even the most difficult steps. She danced not only with her feet, but with every limb of her frail body. She depended not merely upon the manipulation of the skirt for her effect, but upon her facility of balance and the skillful use of arms and hands. Her andante movements in particular were a glorious union of majesty and grace. It is true that she condescended at times to introduce into her dance some of those hideous steps which vulgarized the dancing of the period—in particular that known as the “high kick”; but even this unpleasant step she accomplished with a certain sense of elegance and refinement which disguised its essential ugliness and suggestion of contortion. She danced with a distinct inspiration, and upon her style was built up all that was best in the dancing of her time.’

This new dance hysteria seemed to be of an epidemic nature. The vogue for crude and sensational dances held the whole western world for nearly half a century in its iron grip. With the exception of Scandinavia and Russia, all Europe and America were affected by a decadent dance taste. Novelty was reckoned far superior to beauty. Cleverness was placed high above talent and genius. It was seemingly a prelude to a subsequent effeminacy that was to spread over Occidental art and life.