Though it had not died during the Revolutionary period, either in Paris or London, the art of Ballet, from the death of Louis XV was really of little artistic interest, and was to remain so until the famous ’Forties of last century. The dancers were mostly mechanical; the ballets uninspired; the mounting meretricious; and it was not till the ’forties of last century that a new and all-surpassing danseuse, Marie Taglioni, came to infuse a new spirit into the art and found a tradition that holds to-day. In London Ballet was in almost the same state as in Paris, but not quite, possibly because having been always imported at its best, it had had less opportunity of becoming hide-bound by tradition at its worst, as in the case of an old-established continental school. For the continued production of soundly artistic ballet the existence of a good school is a necessity, a school founded and sustained on right principles. But in its continued existence there is inevitably danger of ultimate stultification from the “setting” of the very tradition it has created, unless there is a perpetual infusion of new ideas. In Paris the new idea was not then encouraged, if it came counter to the traditional technique of which the Vestris, father and son, were the supreme exponents. In London there was more freedom, because there was I have, among my books, a volume of libretti of ballets composed by Didelot and produced at the King’s Theatre, Haymarket, from 1796 to 1800. It contains “Sappho and Phaon,” grand ballet Érotique, en quatre actes; “L’Amour VengÉ,” ballet Épisodique, en deux actes, dans le genre anacrÉontique; “Flore et Zephire,” ballet-divertissement, in one act; “The Happy Shipwreck, or The Scotch Witches,” a dramatic ballet in three acts; “Acis and Galatea,” a pastoral ballet in one act; and “Laura et Lenza, or The Troubadour,” a grand ballet in two acts, “performed for the first time for the benefit of Madame Hilligsberg,” who played Laura. “Laura and Lenza,” is of particular interest to us to-day, for among the performers, in addition to M. Didelot, who played the troubadour hero, Lenza, was a M. Deshayes—a capable dancer and producer of ballet in London and Paris—and a Mr. d’Egville, bearer of a name which is well-known in both cities at the present day. “Flora et Zephire,” was the most popular, and was frequently revived even as late as the ’thirties, when Marie Taglioni made her dÉbut in it at King’s Theatre, for Laporte’s benefit, on June 3rd, 1830. Both in Paris and London, however, during the first two decades of the nineteenth century Ballet was comparatively undistinguished and it was not really until the ’thirties that it began to assume new interest. True, there were in Paris, some remarkable exponents of advanced technique as regards dancing, but in the glamour of technical achievement the greater idea of the art of Ballet was somewhat obscured. At the Paris Opera the dieux de la danse were MM. Albert M. Paul, by the way, later became a celebrated dancing-master at Brighton, in good Queen Victoria’s early days. Then, too, there was Paul’s sister who became Madame Montessu, hardly less celebrated than her brilliant brother. Then, too, Mlle. Brocard, who so won Queen Victoria’s girlish admiration that some of her dolls were dressed to represent the pretty dancer in character. Brocard, however, was more remarkable for her beauty than for her dancing. Another famous artist of the period was M. Coulon, to whose careful tuition the graceful, and ÉlÉgante Pauline Duvernay owed much of her success, as did also the sisters Noblet—Lise and Alexandrine, the latter of whom forsook the dance to become an actress. Of Lise Noblet a contemporary chronicler wrote in 1821: “Encore un phÉnix! Une danseuse qui ne fait jamais de faux pas, qui prÉfÈre le cercle d’amis À la foule des amants, qui vient au thÉÂtre À pied, et qui retourne de mÊme!” In 1828, she created, with immense success, the rÔle of Fenella, in La Muette de Portici, and was described as “le dernier produit de l’École franÇaise aux poses gÉomÉtriques et aux Écarts À angle droit”; the same critic drawing an interesting comparison between the old school and the rising new one, in adding: “DÉjÀ, Marie Taglioni s’avancait sur la pointe du pied—blanche vapeur baignÉe de mousselines transparentes—poÉtique, nÉbuleuse, immatÉrielle comme ces fÉes dont parle Walter Scott, qui errent la nuit prÈs des fontaines et portent en These references to contrast of styles, to Scott, and to Spanish dances are particularly interesting as illuminating the change which was coming over the Ballet about 1820-1830. Mere technique as the chief aim of Ballet was beginning to fail. It had become too academic and needed the infusion of a new spirit of grace and freedom. It came in a sudden craze for national dances, particularly Slav and Spanish, and in the craze for Scott and all his works, which undoubtedly became an influence on Opera and Ballet, as they did on the forces which led to the growth of the great Romantic movement, of which Hugo was to be hailed as leader and of which the effects passing on through the Art and Literature of the ’fifties, ’sixties, and ’seventies, can still perhaps be traced to-day. Much of the popularity of the Spanish and Slav dances during the early part of the nineteenth century was due to their frequent performance by Pauline Duvernay, Pauline Leroux and the Elsslers. There were two Elsslers, sisters, the elder of whom, ThÉrÈse, was born in 1808, and Fanny in 1810, both at Vienna. ThÉrÈse was less brilliant a dancer than her sister—whom she “mothered” always—but had a charming personality. She eventually gave up the stage to marry, morganatically, Prince Adalbert of Prussia, and was afterwards ennobled. Fanny Elssler (From an old engraving). Carlotta Grisi (From a lithograph). At the outset of her career Fanny achieved distinction, Both sisters, after acquiring a favourable reputation in Germany, came to London, and it was here, in 1834, that VÉron, the manager of the Paris Opera, came over to tempt them to appear in Paris with a salary of forty thousand francs, twenty thousand each. Thinking to impress the young Viennese with an example of Parisian magnificence, VÉron gave a dinner-party in their honour at the Clarendon, in Bond Street, to which the best available society was invited, and the menu, the wine and the equipage were of unparalleled quality. At dessert an attendant brought a silver salver piled high with costly presents for the ladies of the company—pearls, rubies, diamonds, superbly set—a miniature Golconda. But somehow it all fell a trifle flat. The Elssler girls, true to their simple German training, drank only water with their dinner, and with dessert merely accepted, the one a hatpin, and the other a little handbag; and they would not agree to sign their contract until the day of VÉron’s departure! Both in Paris and London the sisters were triumphantly successful, and when in 1841 they toured through America they met with a reception that was sensational. It was “roses, roses all the way”; and in some of the towns triumphal arches were erected. At Philadelphia their horses were unharnessed and their carriage drawn by the admiring populace, headed by the Mayor! Fanny was an especial favourite, and when the sisters left New Orleans, some niggers, who were hoisting freight from the hold of an adjacent steamboat—and niggers are “Fanny, is you going up de ribber? Grog time o’ day. When all dese here’s got Elssler fever? Oh, hoist away! De Lor’ knows what we’ll do widout you, Grog time o’ day. De toe an’ heel won’t dance widout you. Oh, hoist away! Day say you dances like a fedder, Grog time o’ day. Wid t’ree t’ousand dollars all togedder. Oh, hoist away!” Fanny Elssler was at her best in the ballet of “Le Diable Boiteux,” the plot of which is founded on Le Sage’s famous romance. An enthusiastic contemporary described her in the following quaint terms: “La Fanny is tall, beautifully formed, with limbs that strongly resemble the hunting Diana, combining strength with the most delicate and graceful style. Her small and classically shaped head is placed on her shoulders in a singularly elegant manner; the pure fairness of her skin requires no artificial whiteness; while her eyes beam with a species of playful malice, well-suited to the half-ironical expression at times visible in the corners of her finely curved lips. Her rich, glossy hair, of bright chestnut hue, is usually braided over a forehead formed to wear, with equal grace and dignity, the diadem of a queen, or the floral wreath of a nymph; and though strictly feminine in her appearance, none can so well or so advantageously assume the costume of the opposite sex.” As a dancer she excelled in all spirited dances, such as the Fandango, and the Mazurka, while in the Cachucha and the Cracovienne, she stirred her audience to a frenzy of admiration. ThÉrÈse Elssler retired from the stage in 1850. Fanny, a year later, married a rich banker, withdrew, and died in 1884. CHAPTER XXV |
| 7.15. | “A Warning to Parents.” | A Farce. |
| 8.0. | “Die Fledermaus.” | Opera Comique by Johann Strauss. |
| 10.0. | The Celebrated Girards. | Eccentric Dancers. |
| 10.15. | “The Fairies’ Home.” | A New Grand Ballet. |
“Die Fledermaus” had an excellent cast, including Miss Emma Chambers—a very popular soubrette of the time—and Mr. Harry Paulton; while in the ballet were a Mlle. Pertoldi, a very handsome danseuse of statuesque proportions, a Mlle. T. de Gillert, a clever mime, and among lesser lights Mlles. Sismondi, Melville, Rosa and Richards, who were for several years to be more or less prominently associated with the Alhambra ballet.
In September of the same year was staged Offenbach’s opÉra bouffe, “OrphÉe aux Enfers,” with handsome, golden-tressed CornÉlie d’Anka as the chief attraction; the same programme including the ballet of “Yolande,” “invented and designed” by Alfred Thompson, with music by Mons. G. Jacobi, and dances by Mons. A. Bertrand, from the Paris Opera, who was later to become more closely associated with
It has been stated that it was “towards the end of 1877” that the late Mr. Charles Morton—one of the ablest theatrical managers London has known—took charge of the Alhambra, and that he started his connection therewith by reviving one of his former great successes, namely, “La Fille de Madame Angot.” He may have become connected with the theatre towards the end of 1877, but apparently the first time his name appeared on the programme as Manager was early in January, 1878; and not with “Madame Angot” as his first production, but with “Wildfire,” a “Grand, Spectacular, Fairy, Musical and Pantomimic Extravaganza” (as it was described) by the then very popular collaborateurs, H. B. Farnie and R. Reece—an extra extravagant extravaganza in three acts and fourteen tableaux!
This remarkable production had a strong cast, including Harry Paulton, J. H. Ryley, two charming singers, Miss Lennox Grey and Miss Pattie Laverne; and among the danseuses in the divertissement—Mlles. Pertoldi, de Gillert and Sismondi.
Next month came a triple bill, starting at 7.20 with a farce, “Crowded Houses”; then, at 8, “La Fille de Madame Angot,” with Mlles. CornÉlie d’Anka, Selina Dolaro and Lennox Grey as the bright particular stars; followed, at 10.30, with “Les Gardes FranÇaises,” a grand military ballet; with Mlles. E. Pertoldi and T. de Gillert as the leading artists, the dances being arranged by Mons. A. Bertrand, the whole production proving very successful.
Much of its success—as in the case of the two or three preceding spectacles—was attributable largely to the beauty of the staging and the splendour of the costumes, apropos to which it should be noted here that it was first in 1877 that M. and Mme. Charles Alias first began to make costumes for
It was not, however, until 1884, when the Magistrate’s licence for music and dancing was again recovered, that M. Alias (to whom I am indebted for several details of the theatre’s history) regularly took up the position of Costumier to the Alhambra, in which capacity he had entire control of the costume department—a very important factor in spectacular production—and supplied every dress worn on the stage for a period of about thirty years. Considering that there were some nine or ten complete changes of management during that time it speaks volumes for his ability and the excellence of the work done by M. Alias that his services should have been retained through so lengthy a period.
To return, however, to the days when the Alhambra was not a “music-hall” but a theatre, with the Lord Chamberlain’s licence, and was giving opÉra comique and opÉra bouffe as well as ballet. Charles Morton’s next production, in April, 1878, was another Offenbach revival, namely, “The Grand Duchess,” with Mlle. CornÉlie d’Anka, Miss Rose Lee and J. D. Stoyle (“Jimmy” Stoyle), Pertoldi and T. de Gillert in the cast, M. Bertrand (by now engaged as “resident” ballet-master) introducing two ballets, one Hungarian and the other Bohemian.
In the following June came the production of Von SuppÉ’s comic opera, “Fatinitza,” adapted by Henry S. Leigh, with the late Aynsley Cook, Miss Rose Lee, John J. Dallas and other popular stars in the cast. It was preceded by a farce, “Which is Which,” and followed by a “grand Indian” ballet d’action by the late J. Albery, entitled “The Golden Wreath,” arranged by Bertrand, with music by Jacobi, and with Mlles. G. David, E. Pertoldi and T. de Gillert as dancers. It was, from all accounts, a very gorgeous production. Indeed, so successful was it that when Offenbach’s “GeneviÈve
The sensation of the following spring was the production of “La Poule aux Œufs d’Or,” a “new grand Spectacular and Musical fÉerie,” by MM. Denhery and Clairville, adapted to the English stage by Frank Hall, with a very strong cast including such well-known favourites as Constance Loseby, Emily Soldene, Clara Vesey, Violet Granville, the celebrated French duettists Bruet and RiviÈre, Aynsley Cook, E. Righton (“Teddy” Righton), with Pertoldi and de Gillert as leading danseuses.
In the autumn came a revival of Offenbach’s “The Princess of Trebizonde,” with Miss Alice May, Miss Constance Loseby, Miss Emma Chambers, Mr. Charles Collette, Mr. Furneaux Cook, in the cast, the opera being followed by “Le Carnaval de Venise,” a ballet in which that fine, statuesque dancer and expressive mime, Mme. Malvina Cavallazi—later to become so great a favourite with the Empire’s audiences—was supported by Mlle. de Gillert and other Alhambra favourites, and for which, as in the case of many ballets at this period—the gorgeous costumes were from designs by Faustin.
This was succeeded by Lecocq’s comic opera “La Petite Mademoiselle,” of which the English libretto was by Reece and Henry S. Leigh, a very brilliant cast including the late Fred Leslie, Harry Paulton, Constance Loseby, Emma Chambers and Alice May, the opera being preceded by a farce and followed by a ballet, “Carmen,” dances by Bertrand and music by Jacobi.
On December 22nd, 1879, came the production of “Rothomago,” a “Grand, New, Christmas Fairy Spectacle,” arranged by H. B. Farnie from the French, in four acts and seventeen tableaux! It was the day of big adjectives and big productions.
This apparently started the modern fashion of requiring
The spring of 1880 was marked by the successful production of Offenbach’s “La Fille du Tambour-Major,” with an excellent cast including Constance Loseby, Edith Blande, Fanny Edwards, the fascinating Fanny Leslie—who later became so popular a “variety artiste”—Fred Leslie, and Fred Marvin. It was followed by a gorgeous Egyptian ballet “Memnon,” in which Mlle. Pertoldi, Miss Matthews—a very handsome English dancer—and Mlles. Rosa and Marie Muller (pupils of Mme. Katti Lanner) were the chief attractions, not to mention Ænea, known as the “Flying Wonder.”
Mr. Charles Morton left the Alhambra in 1881, and a striking success was achieved by the new manager, Mr. William Holland, with “Babil and Bijou,” the cast including Miss Rosa Berend, Miss Constance Loseby, Harry Paulton, and Harry Monkhouse; while in the two grand ballets arranged by Bertrand and for which the dresses were designed by Mr. Wilhelm, were to be seen Mlle. Pertoldi, and Mme. Palladino, a petite and fascinating dancer who later was to become one of the leading favourites at the Empire.
In December, 1882, the theatre was burnt down, and on rebuilding various successful productions were staged. The house, however, did not really enter upon its most triumphant phase until October, 1884, when it became the
The first of the productions was “A Village Festival,” a new grand ballet of Olden Times, with Mlle. Palladino as the premiÈre danseuse. It was followed in the December with another, a very successful ballet, “The Swans,” with Mlle. Palladino and a Miss Mathews, a very popular dancer in her day. On the Christmas Eve yet another was staged, “Melusine,” a new fantastic ballet, in which a Mlle. Sampietro was supported by Miss Mathews. “Nina the Enchantress”; “Le Bivouac”—a military spectacle; “Cupid;” “The Seasons”; “Nadia”; “Algeria”; “Dresdina”; “Enchantment”; “Antiope”; “Ideala,” a “pastoral divertissement”; “Irene”—a fantastic ballet; “Our Army and Navy”—patriotic spectacle; “Astrea,” were progressively successful productions.
“Asmodeus”; “Zanetta” followed, bringing us to June, 1890, and these too, were notable for some gorgeous stage effects which drew “all London,” and for the dancing of principals such as the two already mentioned, and of Mme. Cormani, Signorina Legnani, Signorina Bessone, Mme. Roffey and Signor de Vicenti, the last named being for many years associated with the Alhambra productions.
“Salandra,” given for the first time on June 23rd, 1890, was a remarkably fine production, and with the late Charles Morton as Acting Manager, Vernon Dowsett as Stage Manager, Mr. T. E. Ryan for Scenic Artist, Signor Casati as maÎtre de ballet, M. and Mme. Alias responsible for the costumes; and a superb orchestra of fifty instrumentalists under Mons. G. Jacobi, the Alhambra’s new era of growing prosperity was now assured.
The ballet was in five tableaux, and involved some striking changes of scene. The heroine, Salandra (Signorina Legnani) was a Gipsy Queen, and the opening scene introduced various
For Christmas of that year “The Sleeping Beauty” proved attractive, and was followed in 1891, by “On the Roofs,” a “pantomime ballet” by the famous Lauri troupe. “Oriella,” a new fantastic ballet—described as “the most beautiful of all” then produced at the Alhambra—followed; then a musical pantomime by Charles Lauri, “The Sculptor and the Poodle”; then a comic ballet, “The Sioux,” by Charles Lauri and his troupe, with music by Mr. Walter Slaughter; and in September, 1892, came “Up the River,” a very popular production invented by the late John Hollingshead (who was now Manager) in which the rural and riverside scenery by Mr. T. E. Ryan was very much admired; the scenic effects—including a remarkable storm—being admirably managed; the ballet capitally performed; and M. Jacobi’s flowing and richly orchestrated music proving better than ever.
“Temptation,” a “new, grand fantastic ballet, in three tableaux,” invented and arranged by Signor Carlo Coppi, with scenery by Ryan, and music by M. Jacobi, was a big and very successful production, in which a Signorina Elia, as premiÈre, made a hit.
The production of “Aladdin” by John Hollingshead on December 19th, 1892, called forth tributes of praise for the enterprising and ingenious Manager. The familiar story was well kept to, the situations were telling, and the four changes of scene were effected without once lowering the curtain, while the last, “The Veil of Diamonds,” was
The cast was a strong one, Signorina Legnani—a finished dancer of the typical Italian school—as the Princess; Mlle. Marie, a charming little dancer and clever mime, as Aladdin; Signorina Pollini, as the Spirit of the Lamp; that fine actor and dancer, Mr. Fred Storey, as the Magician; with good support from Mme. Roffey, Miss Hooten, the Almonti Brothers, and, of course, a wondrous array of beauty among the Alhambra corps de ballet. Mr. Bruce Smith had provided artistic scenery; Mr. Howard Russell was the designer of the costumes—as for several of the Alhambra ballets—which were admirably turned out as usual by M. and Mme. Alias; and M. Jacobi had once again surpassed himself in the music, that for the beautiful “chrysanthemum” scene and a waltz in A, in the finale, proving especially popular.
Another great success was achieved in the production of “Chicago,” in March, 1893, a lively, up-to-date production, which later ran into a second edition. “Fidelia,” adapted from “Le Violon du Diable,” was a romantic ballet that also went into a second edition. The Alhambra by now had as Business Manager, Mr. Albert A. Gilmer, with Mr. A. G. Ford as Stage Manager, though Signor Casati, as maÎtre de ballet, M. G. Jacobi, as conductor and composer of the music, were still continuing in their accustomed spheres.
Yet another success achieved under the same able direction was “Don Quixote,” with Mr. Fred Storey as a brilliant exponent of the title-rÔle, and Signorina Porro as the Dulcinea, La Salmoiraghi as the niece, and Mr. Fred Yarnold, as the
The ballet was a great success with the public, and a happy comment by a leading critic was as follows: “Within the charming framework of the four admirably painted scenes by Ryan there is a continuous procession of ballet incident, the costumes quaint, picturesque, poetic, splendid, and nevertheless suggestive always of old Spain. Mr. Howard Russell, the designer, deserves great praise for the fancy and versatility which he has been able to show without proving unfaithful to his theme. While his beautiful dresses give rare variety and character to the dances of maidservants, pages, millers, grape-gatherers, brigands, wood-nymphs, in the earlier portions of the piece, they are seen to really magnificent effect in the grand gathering of all the Terpsichorean forces of the theatre in the final tableau. The stage organisation of the Alhambra is always good. Nowhere do we see better mass dancing; and nowhere either do the dancers receive more assistance from the musician. M. Jacobi’s ballet music is as sympathetic as its tunefulness is inexhaustible. This is M. Jacobi’s eighty-ninth ballet here.” That last remark may come as a revelation to those who do not realise how much of ballet we have had at two London theatres in the past thirty years. “Don Quixote” was M. Jacobi’s “eighty-ninth ballet” at the Alhambra, and—there were other Jacobian productions to follow!
Mr. Alfred Moul in 1894 became the General Manager of the Alhambra and the evidences of his long associations with the dramatic and lyric stage were quickly apparent in the series of brilliant successes with Ballet which now were placed to the credit of the historic house of which he had assumed control.
A marked success in the summer of the same year was “Sita,” the story of which dealt with an Indian girl’s hopeless love for the accepted lover of her master’s daughter.
A grand spectacular ballet, on the familiar theme of “Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves,” was the sensation of the close of 1894, more particularly owing to the introduction of an “aerial ballet” by the well-known Grigolati troupe. The treatment of the story was on conventional lines, naturally, but the ballet was gorgeously staged, and introduced an especially attractive dancer, Signorina Cecilia Cerri, while Mlle. Louise Agoust, as Morgiana, added to the laurels she had already won in other productions as a first-rate mime of dramatic character. “Bluebeard” was another popular success on familiar lines; and “Rip Van Winkle”—with Mr. Fred Storey, masterly as Rip—yet another, towards the end of 1896.
Mr. Alfred Moul then staged “Victoria and Merrie England,” a “grand national ballet in eight tableaux,” the scenario being arranged and the ballet “invented” by Signor Carlo Coppi, the music being by no less a personage than Sir Arthur Sullivan, M. Jacobi still conducting, while the scenery was by Mr. T. E. Ryan, the costumes by M. and Mme. Alias from designs by Mr. Howard Russell, the cast including Signorina Legnani, Miss Ethel Hawthorne, Miss Julia Seale and Miss Josephine Casaboni. The ballet was a huge success. It was certainly one of the finest spectacular and “patriotic” productions ever seen on the London stage, and it is one of the proudest records of the Alhambra that the performances were honoured with nearly a score of Royal visits.
One of the great successes of the spring of 1898 was a grand ballet on the old theme of “Beauty and the Beast,” invented and produced by Signor Carlo Coppi, with music by M. Jacobi, the interest being kept up throughout in a
On the retirement of Mr. Moul, which took place in 1898, Mr. C. Dundas Slater became General Manager, with Mr. James Howell as Business Manager, Mr. Charles Wilson as Stage Manager, Mr. H. Woodford as Secretary and Treasurer; and Mr. G. W. Byng as Musical Director—the last two named gentlemen holding their appointments for many years following.
A very popular production of this year was “Jack Ashore,” modestly described as “an unpretentious Sketchy Divertissement in One Tableau” which was invented and produced by Mr. Charles Wilson, with dances arranged by Signor Pratesi, and music by Mr. George Byng. It had a delightful early nineteenth-century setting for its dramatic little story and was capitally done by a cast including Miss Julia Seale, Miss Casaboni, the Misses Grace and Sybil Arundale, Mr. Albert Le Fre, and the Brothers Almonti.
An attractive production of the following year was “A Day Off,” which, however, was somewhat outshone by the beauty of “The Red Shoes,” a fine spectacular ballet based on Hans Andersen’s famous story, with a good cast including
Two noteworthy ballets of 1900 were “Napoli,” in one scene, written by Signor Giovanni Pratesi, produced by Mr. Charles Wilson, with music by Mr. George W. Byng; and a patriotic military display, “Soldiers of the Queen,” produced by Mr. Charles Wilson, under the direction of Mr. C. Dundas Slater, the scene representing Queen’s Parade, Aldershot, from sunrise to sunset, concluding with an Inspection and Grand March by the combined bands of Infantry, Drums and Fifes, corps de ballet, chorus and auxiliaries, numbering over two hundred and fifty, and representing some thirty leading regiments. Needless to say, produced as it was when patriotic feeling was at its height on account of the Boer War, it was as successful as it was magnificent.
A “romantic nautical ballet,” in three scenes, entitled “The Handy Man,” followed in January, 1901. It was written and produced by Mr. Charles Wilson, with music by Mr. George W. Byng, and dances arranged by Signor Rossi. In the same programme was a vocal ballet divertissement, “The Gay City,” by the same author and musician, the dances arranged by Mme. Cormani. Later this was retained, and was followed by a “fanciful” grand ballet, entitled “Inspiration,” invented and written by Mr. Malcolm Watson, the music being by Mr. George W. Byng, and the dances by Signor Carlo Coppi, the cast including Miss Audrey Stafford, as the Goddess of Inspiration, Miss Judith Espinosa, as the Genius of Inspiration, Miss Edith Slack, as a Greek Dancer, Mr. Fred Farren, as Caliban, and other well-known people. The year closed with a charming divertissement, “Gretna Green,” and a revised edition of “Soldiers of the King.”
Mlle. Britta
“In Japan,” a delightful ballet, adapted by Mr. S. L. Bensusan, from his story, Dede, with music specially composed by M. Louis Ganne, proved particularly attractive.
The theatre at this period was now again to come under the influence of Mr. Alfred Moul. At an Annual General Meeting of the Shareholders at the commencement of the year 1902, when the fortunes of the theatre seemed once more uncertain, Mr. Moul was invited again by both Shareholders and Directors to assume control. He responded, and within a few weeks was installed as Chairman of the Company, once more throwing his energies into a congenial task. One of his first achievements was to secure the services of an old protÉgÉ and a now eminent musician, Mr. Landon Ronald.
From the pen of that accomplished artist came the music for a spectacular Patriotic Ballet entitled “Britannia’s Realm,” in a prologue and four scenes, invented and produced by Mr. Charles Wilson, with dances by Signor Carlo Coppi. It was one of the best planned and most extraordinarily sumptuous productions ever seen at the Alhambra, long famous for the splendour of its effects, and while there were several charming novelties, such as the Pas des Patineurs, in the Canadian Skating Carnival scene (the music of which must still haunt those who heard it), for sheer magnificence probably nothing finer has ever been produced on the Alhambra stage than the Indian jewel scene, and the grand finale representing “Homage to Britannia,” and the formation of the Union Jack. It was a remarkable achievement, and well deserved the enthusiasm with which, night after night for some months, it was received.
An excellent ballet of 1903 was “The Devil’s Forge,” invented by Mr. Charles Wilson and Mme. Cormani, with music by Mr. George Byng. This also ran for some months, and was a charming and dramatic work, beautifully staged,
Before this was withdrawn a delightful adaptation of “Carmen” had been staged, with much of Bizet’s music, ingeniously handled by Mr. George Byng, who had composed some admirable extra numbers. It was finely staged, notable for the strength of the cast and vitality of the entire corps de ballet, but above all for the superb acting of Guerrero as Carmen and M. Volbert as Don JosÉ.
Apart from Guerrero’s fine presence, her magnificent dancing, the breadth, realism and intensity of her acting throughout, all of which one could never forget, there were two particularly memorable moments of that production; one was the fortune-telling scene, the other—the scene in which Carmen flirts with the Lieutenant of Gendarmes in order to lure him away from the gipsy camp, and is dividing her attention between her flirtation and the knowledge that Don JosÉ has only just been frustrated from stabbing her while so engaged, by the sudden intervention of her comrades, who are endeavouring to drag him away silently so that the Lieutenant who is just in front shall not hear and so discover the presence of the gipsy band.
In the card scene, Guerrero gave in all its fullness the sense of a tragic, overhanging doom. In the other, all the combined cunning and fighting instinct of a savage animal at bay with circumstance, and trying by sheer cunning and audacity, to master it, came out, and it was not acting but reality, the real Carmen of MÉrimÉe extricating herself and her comrades from discovery and disaster by superb daring in the use of her dazzling, unconscionable charm.
CHAPTER XXXII
THE ALHAMBRA 1904-1914
There was plenty of novelty and ample charm in “All the Year Round,” a ballet in seven scenes, written and produced by Mr. Charles Wilson, with bright and appropriate music by the well-known chef d’orchestre of Drury Lane, Mr. James Glover, on January 21st, 1904, by which time the late Mr. George Scott was Manager.
It was one that should always be worth revival, with topical modifications, and though a genuine ballet with a central idea connecting its varied scenes, it seemed in form somewhat to herald the revue which has since become such a craze. It was what one might call a ballet in free form.
The chief theme was the whim of a young French Marquis, who, having invited friends to a dinner-party and engaged a Hungarian band for their entertainment, himself turns up late to find that his chef is about to resign because the dinner is spoilt, and the servants are on the verge of striking, while the guests are dancing. Annoyed at a clock which reminds him of his unpunctuality, he orders its destruction. The band now “strikes” and as everything is topsy-turvy, the young host—not too blasÉ to enjoy any new freak—suggests that servants and guests shall change places. This done, they welcome in the New Year, and on the departure of the last guest, the butler brings his master a large Calendar which the young man is mockingly about to destroy also, when the Spirit of Happiness descends from it, and as he pursues her, she asks him to learn how he may obtain Happiness
The scheme gave scope for a number of charming and novel effects and topical reference to various old festivals, such as St. Valentine’s Day, St. Patrick’s Day; various sports and pastimes; a river scene, a seaside bathing scene, an August Bank Holiday Revel. But the greatest charm of the production was in scenes where a more poetic fancy had had free play, as in the May scene, with the approach of Spring, a glory of white and pink may, lilac and laburnum, and heralding the blossoms of early summer, finishing with a ballet of swallows and May flowers.
The Autumnal scene, with its ballet of wheat, cornflowers, poppies and autumn leaves, was a charming incident and provided an excellent contrast to the earlier scene in the warmth of its colouring. The November scene was, rightly enough, placed in London, on the Thames Embankment by Cleopatra’s Needle, amid a typical London Fog; while that of December closed with a grand Christmas ballet of holly and mistletoe and icicles, with snow-clad tree and hedgerow in the background.
It was indeed a capital production and was still in the programme when a new and topical ballet, “The Entente Cordiale,” was staged on August 29th following. This also was invented and produced by Mr. Charles Wilson, with excellent music by Mr. Landon Ronald, and dances arranged and composed by Signor Alfredo Curti, who was for the next few years to be closely associated, in the capacity of maÎtre de ballet, with the Alhambra Theatre.
The opening prologue took place in the “Grove of Concordia,” where the five Great Powers of Europe assemble to pay homage to the Goddess of Progress. But, later, the Demon of War enters upon the world-stage and stirs up strife among the Nations, so that all the horrors of War are felt
“Parisiana,” a grand ballet in six scenes, invented and produced by Mr. Charles Wilson, with music by Mr. James W. Glover, and dances arranged by Signor Alfredo Curti, and some gorgeous costumes by Alias, from designs by Comelli, gave us in 1905 fascinating glimpses of Paris at various periods—1790, 1830, 1906. Among noteworthy members of the cast were Mlle. Jane May, heroine of the earlier production of “L’Enfant Prodigue,” and one of the finest modern mimes; and also Miss Edith Slack, Miss Cormani, Signor Santini, and, for a time, Signorina Maria la Bella.
Between October, 1906, and May 14th, 1907, the Alhambra underwent partial reconstruction, with complete and elaborate redecoration, under the supervision of Mr. W. M. Brutton, the Alhambra Company’s architect; and big as the task was it was carried through with entire success and with additional triumph in that it was done without closing the theatre for a single night!
Mr. Alfred Moul had now assumed the dual task of Chairman and Managing Director, with the result that under the influence of a gentleman of extensive theatrical experience, and wide musical culture, the Alhambra entered upon a new and even yet more brilliant phase of artistic success in 1907, when “The Queen of Spades,” a striking ballet of which the action and dances were composed and arranged by Signor Alfredo Curti, was staged and proved so successful as to run into a
Signor Alfredo Curti hailed from the Scala, Milan, where he had studied the difficult art of Ballet composition on the historic lines laid down by the virtual founder of the Milan school, Carlo Blasis, of whom, as of Noverre, he was a great admirer, and about whom I had many an interesting conversation. Signor Curti, whose scholarship in the history of the dance was remarkable, was an enthusiastic follower of the traditional school, and as an accomplished dancer and mime, an artist, trained geometrician, and devotee of literature and music, he brought to bear on his work as composer of Ballet, a theatrical experience and artistic sympathy, somewhat akin to that of Blasis himself; and while the action of his ballet was always coherent and dramatic his appreciation of stage effect and handling of massed groups of dancers in motion, were uncommonly fine.
In the production of “Queen of Spades,” a dramatic ballet, the story of which dealt with the allure of gambling, he was supported on the musical side by that distinguished Italian composer, Signor Mario Costa, some additional numbers being contributed by Mr. George W. Byng, the costumes, of course, being by Alias, from designs by Comelli, and scenery by Mr. T. E. Ryan.
With Signorina Maria Bordin, a finished dancer of the typical Italian school, as prima ballerina assoluta, seconded by that admirable mime, Miss Julia Seale, Signorina Morino, Signor Santini, and an excellent corps de ballet, the production achieved instant success, and enthusiastically appreciative audiences found special reason for approval in the novelty of the stage effects, such as the “Dream Visions” in the third scene, with its “Valse des Liqueurs,” the “Grand March of Playing Cards and Roulettes,” the novel “Bridge” minuet; the “Conflict between Evil and Good,” not to
Ambitious and successful as was this production, it was followed, in October, 1907, by one even more striking, namely, “Les Cloches de Corneville,” adapted from Planquette’s world-famous opÉra comique. The ballet d’action was invented and presented by Signor Alfredo Curti to the original music, as ingeniously selected, arranged and supplemented by Mr. George W. Byng. Some wonderful costumes were supplied by Alias from designs by Comelli, and the entire spectacle was produced under the personal direction of Mr. Alfred Moul. Signor G. Rosi gave an uncommonly fine study of the miserly Gaspard, Signor Santini making a “dashing” Marquis de Corneville, Miss Daisy Taylor an attractive Germaine, Miss Julia Seale playing cleverly as Grenicheux, Signorina Morino as Serpolette, while Signorina Maria Bordin won fresh laurels as the Spirit of the Bells, a part naturally calling less for dramatic ability than for the music of motion.
The production was beautifully staged. No prettier scene has ever been set on the Alhambra stage than that of the Hiring Fair and Apple Harvest, with its dance of apple-gatherers and sabot dance; nor one more gorgeous than the last, in the Baronial Hall of the Corneville ChÂteau, with its striking Grand March of Knights. The ballet ran continuously for over seven months, and was revived with no less success two years later.
Once more a “topical” ballet held the place of honour in the programme on May 25th, 1908. “The Two Flags,” a Franco-British divertissement, arranged and produced by Signor Curti, with some capital music by Mr. George W. Byng, was presented under the personal direction of Mr. Alfred Moul, the chief rÔle of “La GaietÉ de Paris” being taken by Mlle. Pomponette—the very personification of
In the same programme was given, under the title of “Sal! Oh My!” an amusing satire on what we may term the Salome School of Dancing, then recently instituted by Miss Maud Allan. The Alhambra skit, described as “a musical etcetera” (the delightful music of which, by the way, was by Mr. George W. Byng), served to introduce to a London audience for the first time La Belle Leonora, a very handsome danseuse of, I believe, Spanish origin, who was, for several seasons, to become the “bright, particular star” of the Alhambra.
These two productions held sway for some months, but gave place in October, 1908, to “Paquita,” a charming romantic ballet arranged and produced by Signor Alfredo Curti, with music by Mr. George W. Byng, who once more proved his talent for composition of the kind essential for ballet, music rich in expressive melody, dramatic in orchestration, and always appropriate to the action and mood of the situation. The production introduced to London audiences for the first time, Mlle. Britta, a young Danish dancer, with an interesting personality and a marked gift for acting.
In the same programme was included “On the Square,” a divertissement arranged and produced by Miss Elise Clerc, the scene of which was laid in Herald Square, New York, and formed a background for dances by newsboys, flower-girls, equestriennes, cake-walks, “apache” dances, a dance of “Fluffy Ruffles and Rough Riders,” a clever eccentric pas de deux, by Miss Elise Clerc herself and the late Mr. Frank Lawton (the whistler, who first came into prominence in London in the original production of “The Belle of New York”), the most attractive item in the whole production perhaps being a marionette pas de deux by Mlle. Britta and Miss Carlotta Mossetti, a clever dancer and mime.
Mme. Guerrero
Mlle. Leonora
The divertissement held its place in the programme for a considerable time, but was in general character hardly up to the artistic tone of the Alhambra’s past; and the production of “Psyche,” a classic idyll in three scenes, of which the dramatic action and dances were by Signor Alfredo Curti, and the melodious, and always expressive music was by Mr. Alfred Moul, came as a welcome relief to the banalities of ragtime, the more so in that it provided a fine opportunity for another striking success by Mlle. Leonora, whose statuesque grace was particularly well displayed by the classic beauty of the setting provided for her.
“Femina,” another fine production by Signor Curti, gave Mlle. Leonora opportunities, of which she fully availed herself, more especially in her own national dance, and Mlle. Britta achieved a marked success both as dancer and actress. Since then the more recent influx of Russian dancers to the Alhambra, in “The Dance Dream,” invented and produced by Alexander A. Gorsky, and notable for superb mounting and the fine dancing of Mme. Catrina Geltzer and M. Tichomiroff; then the exquisite “1830,” and since then again, another superb production of a new version of “Carmen,” produced by Mr. Dion Clayton Calthrop, and with some especially fine dancing by La Malaguenita and other Spanish artists, all offered us fresh and delightful examples of the enterprise of the management responsible for them.
We must, however, leave any further consideration of the many notable examples of Ballet at the Alhambra, which during the past two or three years has been mainly given up to the Revue; and must now turn to the Empire where an extensive series of always artistic productions have provided those who witnessed them with many interesting and happy memories.
CHAPTER XXXIII
THE EMPIRE 1884-1906
Before it opened its doors as a regular theatre, with the late H. J. Hitchins as Manager, on April 17th, 1884, the Empire had “played many parts.” The site had been occupied by a royal residence which became in time a picture, or exhibition gallery and a cafÉ chantant, before being burnt down in 1865. Then the late John Hollingshead and some friends proposed erecting a theatre on the site, but the scheme fell through and the ruin remained ruinous for some years, until it became for a time a panorama of Balaclava. Then a theatre was started, to be called the Pandora, but did not get finished under that title. Finally it opened as the Empire in 1884, with “Chilperic,” a musical spectacle in three acts and seven tableaux, founded on the opera adapted by H. Hersee and H. B. Farnie, with music by HervÉ. The production included three grand ballets invented and arranged by Monsieur Bertrand.
The sensation of the third act was a “midnight review and electric ballet of fifty Amazons, as invented by TrouvÉ, of Paris (being the first time where three electric lamps are carried and manipulated by one person, with the most startling and gorgeous effect).”
The dancers included Mlle. Sismondi, Mlle. Aguzzi and FrÄulein Hofschuller; and the costumes by Mons. and Mme. Alias were after designs by Bianchini, Faustin and Wilhelm, the last name being famous in association, from
It does not seem to be commonly known that while still counted as a “theatre,” the Empire was already foreshadowing its destiny as a home of English Ballet. The production of “Polly” was followed by a real ballet, a version of CoppÉlia—not that of Delibes—but one founded on Hoffman’s famous story, with music by LÉo; Delibes’ “Sylvia” also being produced at about the same period. Probably few people of to-day are aware that the famous ballet “Giselle” was also given in these early days at the Empire, in December, 1884. And again, on December 21st, 1885, was produced “Hurly Burly,” a military pantomime ballet. Yet again, on June 12th, 1886, came “The Palace of Pearl,” in which there were a Moorish ballet, with a Mlle. Luna as premiÈre, and a lace ballet, in which Mlle. Pertoldi was the bright particular star. The Empire was afterwards occupied for a time by the Gaiety Company in burlesque, while a French company was occupying the Gaiety, and, later, by the musical extravaganza, “The Lady of the Locket,” in which Miss Florence St. John played the lead, and Mr. Hayden Coffin, I believe, made his first appearance as “Cosmo.” Mr. Edward Solomon’s opera, “Billee Taylor,” was also mounted for a short run, as well as—on March 3rd, 1886—a version of “Round the World in Eighty Days,” in which Miss Kate Vaughan and Mons. Marius appeared.
Its career as a regular theatre not being as successful as had been hoped, a fresh licence was obtained, and on December 22nd, 1887, under the joint direction of Mr. George Edwardes and the late Sir Augustus Harris—with Mr. H. J. Hitchins as Manager—it started afresh as a theatre of varieties, with Ballet as its chief attraction, and it at once assumed an important place as one of the leading variety houses of the world.
At the beginning of the Empire’s prosperous career a wise choice was made in the selection of the late Madame Katti Lanner as maÎtresse de ballet.
Daughter of the famous Viennese waltz composer, Joseph Lanner—who, when he died, was followed to the grave by some ten thousand people—and herself a keen lover of music, Mme. Katti Lanner had been in her earlier years a famous danseuse, who had appeared as a child at the Vienna Opera-House, and later made her world-tour, as great dancers did then and do to-day.
She told me, in the first of many pleasant interviews I had with her in her retirement, how, as a young girl, she had danced with Cerito, and with Fanny Elssler, and how the latter had prophesied for her a successful career; and she spoke with deep enthusiasm of the personal fascination, the brilliant art, and the noble bearing of the great dancer who was known to London of the ’forties as the “divine” Fanny.
In the course of time Mme. Lanner came to settle in London, and had produced ballets at Her Majesty’s—at which she had also appeared—and at Drury Lane, before her invaluable services were secured by the far-seeing management of the Empire in 1887.
She had already, some ten years before, established her National School of Dancing; and with this to draw upon, it was only natural that, from the first, her productions at the Empire should be marked by a uniformly high standard of technique. At no theatre or opera-house can a high standard be maintained unless it can draw upon some such school, either on the premises or off, where young talent is fostered and developed, where consistent practice is kept up under critical eyes, and where a uniform degree of technical efficiency and a high sense of style are cultivated. So it has been with Milan and Paris, Vienna and Petrograd; and so it became when Mme. Lanner began her association
The programme on the opening night, Thursday, December 22nd, 1887, included two ballets, “Sports of England” and “Dilara.” The former—the costumes for which were designed by Mr. Percy Anderson—was, as its title betokens, a representation of the various British sports and pastimes, and was naturally very popular with the habituÉs of the Empire. The second—the costumes of which were designed by Mr. C. Wilhelm—was a brilliant spectacle, of Eastern character; and both ballets, arranged by Mme. Lanner, with music by HervÉ, had a run of some months.
They were succeeded by “Rose d’Amour” in May, 1888, which those who remember it speak of to-day as one of Mme. Katti Lanner’s greatest triumphs. It was notable, too, for the appearance of such dancers as Mlle. AdÈle Rossi—who, I believe, had come from the Paris Opera—Mlle. Santori, Mlle. de Sortis; Ænea, the flying dancer, and the wondrous Mons. Cecchetti, who, gifted with amazing youth, was appearing recently with the Russians at the Royal Opera, Covent Garden. “Rose d’Amour,” like Darwin’s poem of a century earlier, dealt with “the loves of the plants,” or at any rate of the flowers, and the quarrels in flowerland. It was a long and rather elaborate production, with a prodigal array of lovely costumes designed by Mr. Wilhelm; and it rather opened the eyes of Londoners as to the possibilities of the art of Ballet. “Diana,” a graceful idyll on classic lines—the scenario of which was suggested by Mr. Wilhelm, and arranged by Mme. Lanner—followed on October 31st of the same year, with that graceful dancer, Mme. Palladino, and Signor Albertieri in the cast, and, later, Mme. Malvina Cavallazzi, who appeared for the first time in ballet skirts at the Empire, and for the last time in
Early next year came the first London production of Paul Martinetti and HervÉ’s “A Duel in the Snow,” which was less in the nature of a regular ballet than of pure pantomime, was a finely dramatic effort well staged and acted. In the spring of ’eighty-nine was produced another superb ballet, “Cleopatra” (inspired by Sir Rider Haggard’s novel, then appearing in serial form in the pages of the Illustrated London News), which ran for some four months and was immensely admired.
In the autumn it gave place to a popular production, dealing with the diversions, and bearing the title of “The Paris Exhibition”; and in December of the same year, on the eve of Christmas Eve, came a wonderful production, “The Dream of Wealth,” by Mme. Katti Lanner, with music by that fine composer—so long afterwards associated with the Empire—Mons. L. Wenzel, and with costumes and accessories designed “as before” by Mr. Wilhelm. The cast included that superb mime, Signora Malvina Cavallazzi, as a Miser; Signor Luigi Albertieri as the Demon of Avarice; and dainty little Mlle. Bettina de Sortis as premiÈre, representing “The Key of the Jewel Casket.”
The same admirable trio were included in the new ballet, “CÉcile” (by Lanner, Wenzel, and Wilhelm, again), which followed on May 20th, 1890, the premiÈre danseuse being Mlle. Giuri, a dancer of exquisite finish and singularly ÉlÉgante style, as well as a most admirable mime. The period of the divertissement was Louis-Seize, and the production was very charmingly staged, one of the chief points being a wonderful colour scheme of almost one tone, composed of white and silver and mother-of-pearl. This was in the second tableau, depicting a court in the palace of a Rajah who had very wrongly
The spring of next year was marked by the production of “Orfeo,” the scenario of which was by Mr. Wilhelm, the scenery by Telbin. It was an impressive example of classic ballet. Mme. Cavallazzi was a superb exponent of the title-rÔle, Miss Ada Vincent was excellent as Eurydice, and good support was given by Mlle. AdÈle Rossi and Signor Cecchetti. The autumn of the same year saw the advent of “By the Sea,” perhaps the earliest of the “up-to-date” ballets; and on December 22nd that of “Nisita,” the latter a romantic ballet with an Albanian setting, a very pretty second tableau showing a “Revel of the Fairies,” and with Mlle. Emma Palladino as the handsome heroine Nita, and Mme. Cavallazzi as the hero, Delvinos. The first night this was produced, December 22nd, 1891, by the way, there was one of the very worst fogs London has ever seen, so thick that you could not see the drop curtain from the third row of the stalls! But the innate brightness of the production overcame its gloomy environment at birth and it ran for months.
In May, 1892, came “Versailles,” another superb production for the scenario of which, as well as of course the costumes, Mr. Wilhelm was mainly responsible, though it was as usual “choregraphically” arranged by Mme. Katti Lanner, with delightful music by Mons. Leopold Wenzel. This ran until September, when “Round the Town” (a ballet the scenario of which was by Mr. George Edwardes and Mme. Lanner) was staged, and proved so popular as a topical divertissement (not unlike our present day Revues) that it held the bill for some months. An interesting point in connection with this ballet was that the late Miss Katie Seymour, one of the very neatest English dancers that ever trod the London boards, joined the cast after the production had run a little
One of the finest productions yet seen at a theatre which by now had become famous for its ballets, was “Faust,” first produced on May 6th, 1895. The scenario of this, as well as the costume designs, were by Mr. Wilhelm, and it was an ingenious variation of the Gounod version, the music not by Gounod, but by Mr. Meyer Lutz and Mr. Ernest Ford, the ballet being arranged as usual by Mme. Lanner. Mme. Cavallazzi was superb as Faust; Miss Ada Vincent was the Gretchen, Mlle. Zanfretta was a striking exponent of Mephistopheles, and among the cast was Mr. Will Bishop, a clever eccentric dancer, who was associated with the Empire for several seasons. This was followed, in the January of 1896, by a charming ballet entitled “La Danse,” in which the history of dancing was illustrated and various dancers of the older schools, such as SallÉ, Taglioni and others, as well as the modern, were typified. In October came “Monte Cristo”—another superb production staged and designed by Mr. Wilhelm, to whom I am indebted for many interesting details of the Empire’s history. This brings to a close the record of success from the opening of the Empire in 1887 to the close of 1896. This first phase was one of increasing triumph; a second, more splendid still, was to come. We had seen Ballet perfect of its kind. But yet, perfection was to be crowned by the supremacy of terpsichorean and mimetic art—the art of Adeline GÉnÉe.
“Under One Flag,” a topical ballet in celebration of Queen Victoria’s Diamond Jubilee, in 1897, ran for some months. Before the close of the year the Treasure Island tableau in “Monte Cristo” was staged, and in this, on November 22nd,
One of her critics at the time wrote that: “Her pas seuls commanded encores which were thoroughly deserved. The dancer is lissom to a degree and thoroughly mistress of her art. With her terpsichorean ability she has the advantage of a prepossessing personality, which will assist in endearing her to the public.” So much did her personality endear her to the public that Mlle. GÉnÉe’s first engagement at the Empire for six weeks extended to over ten years, with return visits after that!
Looking back at the great dancers of the past, we see that all illustrate the incalculable value of personality in art. The technique of a Camargo or SallÉ, Taglioni or Grahn, Karsavina or GÉnÉe, has the same foundation—the traditional “five positions,” which are to the Dance what the octave is to the sister art of Music. Before a dancer can hope to appear with success on any stage she must have acquired a knowledge of those “five positions,” and their possibilities of choregraphic combination. The ease and rapidity with which she illustrates them, the fluidity of the phrases and melodies of movement which she evolves from them, and the qualities of “finish” and “style” are finally achieved only by incessant practice. She must attain as complete a mastery of the mechanism of her body as can be attained. No technique in any art is acquired without labour; and no success is won without technique. That much therefore can be taken for granted in any great artist. But persistent practice and the acquisition of a fine technique may still leave a dancer merely an exquisite automaton if she has not “personality”; a quality not readily defined, but which undeniably marks her as different from others. Perhaps that is, after all, the truest definition—a differentiation from others.
Endowed with the royal gift of personality, Mlle. GÉnÉe had worked incessantly before she made her first appearance in London at about the age of seventeen. Born in Copenhagen of Danish parents, the famous dancer began her training when only eight years old, under the tuition of her uncle and aunt, Mons. and Mme. Alexander GÉnÉe, both of whom (the latter as Mlle. Zimmermann) had won considerable reputation as dancers, and producers of ballet, at various continental opera-houses and theatres in the ’sixties and ’seventies. They had appeared at Copenhagen, Vienna, Dresden, Munich, Budapest, and at Stettin, where Mons. Alexander GÉnÉe had a theatre for some years, and where Mlle. Adeline made some of her earliest appearances as a child. Subsequently she went to Berlin and to Munich, and it was while dancing in the latter city that she was called to London by Mr. George Edwardes on behalf of the Empire management.
Her first appearance here was emphatically a success. But it was her performance as the Spirit of the “Liberty of the Press” in the famous Empire ballet, “The Press” (invented and designed by Mr. Wilhelm with the choregraphic support of Mme. Lanner and music by Mons. Wenzel), on February 14th, 1898, that first marked her—and for many years to come—as a London “star.” The ballet gave her scope for some wonderful pas, and proved immensely popular. It was a novel idea, artistically carried out, and illustrated the history and power of the Fourth Estate. A number of charming coryphÉes were ingeniously attired as representatives of the various newspapers, boys’ costumes indicating the morning and girls’ the evening journals. The venerable Times was typified by a man in the guise of Father Time, with hour-glass and other symbols of his ancient office, and accompanied by a retinue. Mme. Cavallazzi represented Caxton, Father of the Printing Press; Mlle. Zanfretta, the
The production which a contemporary critic described as “one of the most gorgeous ballets ever produced at the Empire,” is another example of the influence of topical events on the history of the Ballet, for it was due to the discovery of the Klondyke goldfields, the first news of which had come to us the year before, that is, in Jubilee year, but the real wonders of which only began fully to reveal themselves in the summer of 1898, when everyone talked and dreamed of little else than “Klondyke”! The ballet opened with a blinding snowstorm, and the scene, laid in the snow-bound regions of the North-West, glowed, as the storm ceased, with the grandeur of the Aurora Borealis. The story dealt with the adventures of one Alec Wylie (Mme. Cavallazzi), leader of an expedition to Klondyke, who, tempted by the Demon Avarice, quarrels with and leaves for dead his partner, Frank Courage, whose life is saved by the ice fairies and who is vouchsafed a vision of golden realms by the Fairy Good Fortune. The production was rich in striking scenes and stage effects, and once again Mlle. GÉnÉe further confirmed her growing capacity to “endear” herself to London audiences by her performance as the Fairy Good Fortune.
On May 8th of the following year, 1899, “Round the
Next came a fascinating ballet “Les Papillons,” the scenario and staging of which were by Mr. Wilhelm. Of this an enthusiastic critic declared: “It is, indeed, a beautiful butterfly ballet that the Empire Theatre is just now able to boast. With it the management draws crowded houses, and sends them away delighted—delighted with the colour, exhilarated by the movement, charmed by the fancy, and ready to sing the praises of all concerned in a truly marvellous production, and particularly of Mr. Wilhelm, whose designs have given further proof of the taste which governs his fertile imagination and invention, and of Mme. Katti Lanner, for whom the dances and evolutions mean another veritable triumph.” Mlle. Adeline GÉnÉe, as lead, played “Vanessa Imperialis,” the Butterfly Queen, who was “discovered” at the opening of the ballet fast asleep in the lovely realm over which she reigned. A glow-worm patrol guarded her slumbers, which ended with the coming of dawn, when she joined her subjects and the flower-fays in dances, and the revels of a fairy midsummer’s day dream.
On November 6th of the same year followed “Old China,” a delightful ballet, invented and designed by Mr. C. Wilhelm, associated, as usual, with Mme. Lanner and Mons. Wenzel, and with Mlle. GÉnÉe as premiÈre danseuse. The opening scene showed a mantelpiece, backed by a great mirror, in which the actions of a little Dresden China Shepherdess (Mlle. GÉnÉe) and her two troublesome lovers, were exactly repeated in the looking-glass, through which finally the indignant damsel stepped—to the chagrin of her disconsolate lovers—right into Willow Pattern Land, which formed the second scene, and into which some particularly rich and beautiful effects were introduced. “Old China” ran for some months, and on May 28th of the following year was succeeded by another “topical” ballet, “Our Crown,” again the work of the accomplished trio, who had so long contributed to the success of the Empire productions, and were now receiving the brilliant assistance of the Danish premiÈre, who had thoroughly established herself in popular favour. It was, of course in celebration of that crowning of the late King Edward which had been so unhappily postponed, through his late Majesty’s illness on the very eve of what should have been his Coronation. This, again, was a most brilliant production, and the final tableau, practically a “Staircase” scene, in which the great stage was built up with groups representative of the jewelled products of the various British colonies, rubies, emeralds, diamonds, pearls, was magnificent. As in the case of the Victorian Jubilee ballet of five years before, this was a conspicuous triumph in the particularly difficult sphere of ballets d’occasion.
The first production of 1903 was also the first of what may be called essentially the GÉnÉe ballets—ballets, that is, which seemed more particularly than before, infused with the personality of this accomplished dancer. Since her London dÉbut in 1897 she had played the leading part, certainly,
In her dance descriptive of the charms of country life, so clever and so perfect was the combination of mime and dance that a positive illusion was created; and only at the close did one realise, suddenly, that it was veritably a song without words. A step, a gesture, a little glance, and one could have sworn one heard a poet’s lines! Popular as the dancer had already made herself, her work in this particularly charming ballet confirmed the growing opinion that here was a dancer who was supreme in her art as a dancer-mime; one to be reckoned among any gallery of the great artists of the past.
In the autumn of the same year was staged a ballet by the same experienced trio, Wilhelm, Lanner and Wenzel, entitled “Vineland,” which introduced to us some novel and sumptuous colour schemes and gave us the sensation of Mlle. GÉnÉe’s “champagne” dance, a piece of terpsichorean music as sparkling as the most glittering of Offenbach’s operatic melodies. Early next year there followed the lively, up-to-date
An adaptation by Mr. Wilhelm from the popular Viennese ballet, “Die Puppenfee,” under the English title of “The Dancing Doll,” was produced on January 3rd, 1905, and was notable, among other things, for Mlle. GÉnÉe’s impersonation of an automaton in situations not very dissimilar from those of “La PoupÉe,” and a notable point in the production was a delightful eccentric dance by Miss Elise Clerc and Mr. W. Vokes, as a pair of Dutch dolls. This very successful ballet went into a second edition on April 3rd, and on June 30th the theatre was closed for redecoration.
When it reopened on October 9th of that year the habituÉs found considerable alterations had taken place under the direction of Mr. Frank Verity, F.R.I.B.A., all designed for their increased comfort, while the decorative style, representative of the true Empire period, had a note of distinction hitherto lacking in some of the London vaudeville houses, a note more in keeping with the demands of modern times. The opening ballet, by Mr. C. Wilhelm and Mr. Sidney Jones, was “The Bugle Call,” which had a well defined plot, and in which Mlle. GÉnÉe played the part of a French bugler boy of the late eighteenth century.
On the afternoon of January 6th (1906) a version of “Cinderella,” one of the most charming of Mr. Wilhelm’s creations, was staged, originally with a view only to matinÉe performances, but it proved so successful that it went into the evening bill on February 5th. The creator of the ballet had treated the age-long legend of Cinderella with that respect for its mingled poetry and pathos which an artist of sympathy must always feel for one of childhood’s most appealing legends; and he provided Mlle. GÉnÉe once more with an opportunity for proving her remarkable gifts as an
On May 14th, Delibes’ classic example of Ballet in its ideal form, namely, “CoppÉlia,” was produced specially for Mlle. GÉnÉe, and gave her, as the heroine, Swanilda, fresh opportunity for further revelations of her amazing accomplishments as a dancer and for her expressive acting; in which, by the way, she was admirably supported by Mr. Fred Farren in the character of the old doll-maker, CoppÉlia; and by Miss Dorothy Craske as CoppÉlia’s somewhat wavering lover. The production was a great success. How should it have been otherwise? Perfectly staged and perfectly performed, it is, with its haunting Slav rhythms and flowing valse melodies, one of the most charming, and musically, one of the most expressive ballets in the world’s rÉpertoire.
This was followed on August 6th by one of the most exquisite productions the Empire had yet seen, a ballet by Mr. C. Wilhelm, entitled “FÊte Galante,” which had been expanded from the opening scene of “Cinderella.”
To see the “FÊte Galante” was itself a liberal education in the art of stage effect. It was an ideal realisation of the art of Watteau, Lancret, and Fragonard. The very spirit of the period was caught, and it was as if all that one had learnt at secondhand of the people, the dress, the manners, dances, arts and music of the “Grand Century” in France had suddenly awakened into life, and become a living reality of which one was a living part. Yet, paradoxically, it was strangely dream-like still, even as are Watteau’s pictures.
The scene represented a garden such as you see in so many of his paintings, and those of his school, primarily reminiscent of Pater’s “Conversation Galante” and Watteau’s “FÊte Galante,” “L’amour au ThÉÂtre FranÇais,” and the “Terrace Party.” One of the young Court ladies reminded one of the central figure in the “Bal
For all the gaiety of the huntsmen’s entrance it was gaiety demure, as if restrained by an inherent sense of fitness with stately surroundings; and so with the troupe of dancers, introduced for the diversion of the Marquise Belle Etoile, and the Court ladies and courtiers grouped about her. The mood of all, demurely gay, or gaily demure, was suffused with a stately languor, a dream-like grace that found an echo in the subtle colour-harmonies of the old-world garden in which the people moved.
And when the opera-dancer, L’Hirondelle, and Passepied the master of the revels, began their pas de deux, the climax of exquisite illusion was reached, and Camargo was before us—the Camargo of Lancret’s famous picture, with the soft, full white skirts, trimmed with garlands of small pink roses and falling almost to the ankle; Camargo with the red-heeled, red-rosetted shoes; with blue shoulder-knot and powdered hair adorned with pale blue ribbons.
As the fÊte drew to a close the picture mellowed in the amber light of a waning day; and, amid fallen leaf and chestnut bloom, slowly marquise and prince, Court lady and courtier, dancer and page, began in stately fashion to dance, their shadows lengthening in the failing light, the music growing slower and dreamier as, little by little, the picture was re-formed into the likeness of the opening scene, and the falling curtain brought one back into the world of living things to-day.
Another brilliant reconstruction of the Past was achieved by Mr. Wilhelm in his creation of “The DÉbutante” (November 15th, 1906), which revivified the men and maids and modes, the dance of life, and the life of the dance, of that strangely interesting period of the ’thirties and ’forties, the days of Pauline Duverney, Leroux, Fanny Elssler, and
The production marked the dÉbut of that brilliant young English dancer, Miss Phyllis Bedells, and also the end of Mlle. GÉnÉe’s unbroken ten years’ reign at the Empire Theatre, the tenth anniversary of her first appearance being celebrated on November 22nd, when the house was packed from floor to ceiling with a crowd whose growing enthusiasm
But in watching that decade closely with all its procession of successes, one thing there is that strikes one very forcibly. It was only the natural corollary of the previous decade before the advent of Mlle. GÉnÉe. For some twenty years the artistic influence of one mind had been, never obtrusive, but invariably evident; never obtrusive, that is, to the detriment of that balance of the arts which makes a perfect ballet; I mean the artistic influence of Mr. C. Wilhelm. Before the coming of Mlle. GÉnÉe they had had some good dancers and some great artistic successes; but there had hardly been, perhaps, quite that unity and perfection of ensemble which the coming of a dancer of superb technique made possible, and which, it may be, enabled a designer of ballet, already of great experience and inspired always by high artistic motives—not only to aim at, but to count on, achieving just the effect at which he aimed. Theatrical art must always be a somewhat composite art, but its best achievements come from a perfect blending of artistic sympathies, forming a source of mutual inspiration. So, while the personality and technical accomplishment of Mlle. GÉnÉe must have proved a stimulus to the poetic imagination of an artist like Mr. Wilhelm, so, too, the famous Danish danseuse could well afford to admit a debt of inspiration to the refined, sensitive and poetic art of Mr. Wilhelm, who has provided so invariably a worthy and gracious medium for her supreme art as dancer-mime.
CHAPTER XXXIV
THE EMPIRE 1907-1914
When the news was first announced that an end was to come to Mlle. Adeline GÉnÉe’s ten years’ reign at the Empire and that the famous dancer was seeking, if not new worlds to conquer, at least to conquer what was once always spoken of as “The ‘New’ World,” many who had followed the progress of Ballet in London must have wondered where anyone could hope to find a successor to her throne, and who would have the courage to accept an offer thereof.
But London theatrical managers are not lacking in resource, or English girls in courage; and it was with real pleasure that we heard that so worthy a successor had been found as that graceful and essentially English dancer, Miss Topsy Sinden, who had already been associated with the Empire as a child some years before.
Of Mlle. GÉnÉe’s triumph in “The Belle of the Ball,” I have already spoken. Shortly after, the production underwent a change, and the fact that the new version was still in the bill on the following June 1st, proves the popularity of the production and of the Empire’s choice of Miss Sinden as premiÈre danseuse. Her success was the more interesting in that in temperament and in methods she was entirely different from the famous Danish dancer. A typical English girl, with all the charm of looks and manner implied thereby, she had studied not so much
Miss Sinden had had long and invaluable stage experience before becoming premiÈre danseuse at the Empire; had appeared in pantomime at Covent Garden, Drury Lane, at the old “Brit,” and at Liverpool and elsewhere; had “done” the Halls; had appeared at the Haymarket under Sir H. Beerbohm Tree’s management; had appeared at the Gaiety in “Cinderella Up-to-Date,” “In Town,” “Don Juan,” “The Gaiety Girl,” and “The Shop Girl”; at Daly’s in “The Greek Slave,” in “The Country Girl,” and other productions; and always she won fresh distinction as one of the most vivacious, piquante, graceful and finished English dancers the London stage has ever known.
Her appearance in “The Belle of the Ball” was marked by the most cordial welcome from the Press and the public, and one of the first greetings she received on her return to the Empire was a telegram from Brighton which ran as follows: “My good wishes, and I hope you will do yourself justice. You are one of the best dancers I know.—Adeline GÉnÉe.” That Miss Sinden did do herself justice was seen in the enthusiastic cheers and demands for encores which greeted her at the close of her scenes on that “big night” of her return to the Empire stage.
“The Belle of the Ball” gave place to a revival of “CoppÉlia” and—the return of Mlle. Adeline GÉnÉe. Many as her triumphs had been during her ten years’ unbroken reign, that Wednesday night, June 10th, 1908, must be
For some seasons past we have had the Russian ballet as a standing dish, over which various epicures have gloated as if no other fare had ever been. But it is interesting to note that the first of “all the Russias” was Mlle. Lydia Kyasht, who made her London dÉbut at the Empire, in some dances with M. Adolph Bolm, on August 17th, 1908. For the present, and to preserve historical order, let the fact be merely recorded, leaving further reference thereto until the time it becomes necessary to chronicle the handsome Russian dancer’s later successes.
On September 7th of that same year came the production of one of the most perfect gems yet seen in the historic gallery of Ballet, namely, “The Dryad,” a pastoral fantasy in two tableaux, by that brilliant composer, Miss Dora Bright. From time to time, in such productions as “The Milliner Duchess,” “CoppÉlia,” and “The DÉbutante,” we had had an opportunity of realising something of Mlle. GÉnÉe’s gifts as an actress apart from her supremacy as a dancer, but it was mainly as a dancer, surrounded by dancers, that we have seen her. Now, however, we were to have a conclusive revelation of the fact that had Mlle. GÉnÉe not elected to
The fantasy told how a certain Dryad, fairest of the Wood Nymphs, subdued all mortals to her by her loveliness and the magic of her dancing, whom the implacable Aphrodite caused to be imprisoned in an oak tree, only granting her freedom to come forth once in every ten years between sunrise and sunset until she should find a mortal faithful to her during the allotted period. A shepherd, passing through the wood on the night of her freedom, sees her dancing beneath the moon, and is lured to love her and vows eternal constancy. When the dawn breaks she bids him farewell and re-enters the tree, which closes around her. After ten years have passed away, the Dryad comes forth again seeking to allay the longing she has kindled, but her lover had not been constant, and the wood is empty. She dances through the night, deluding herself with hope until the hour of her doom returns and she is compelled to re-enter the tree.
The Dryad, afire with joy at being released from the imprisoning tree, and discovering the beauty of the sunlit, flower-strewn forest glade; joyous in her love of the handsome shepherd and his love returned; her sorrow at parting to return to the tree; her deeper joy on her renewed release; her alternating hope and fear as the concluding moment of the ten-year tryst draws nigh; her eager search for her lover; the shuddering tremors of doubt as she finds him not; her triumphant happiness as she hears his voice; the heart-wringing
So great was the success of “The Dryad” that Mlle. GÉnÉe’s engagement was extended, but the strain of appearing in both “CoppÉlia” and Miss Bright’s exquisite fantasy proving too considerable, the famous dancer reserved her strength for her final appearance in the latter, while Mlle. Lydia Kyasht, then comparatively a new-comer to the Empire audiences, took up the part of “Swanilda,” in Delibes’ masterpiece with considerable success.
Ere departing for a forty weeks’ tour of America, Mlle. GÉnÉe gave a farewell “professional” matinÉe at the Empire, at which everyone of note in “the profession” was present, and gave her the same enthusiastic appreciation as had always been accorded by the lay public.
Following Mlle. GÉnÉe’s departure for America, and Mlle. Kyasht’s appearance in “CoppÉlia,” came the production on October 19th, 1908, of a ballet in five scenes by Lieut.-Col. Newnham-Davis, entitled “A Day in Paris,” produced by Mr. Fred Farren, with music by Mr. Cuthbert Clarke, the entire production being designed and supervised by Mr. C. Wilhelm, who was at his happiest in invention and control of colour in the prismatic beauty of the final tableau of the Artists’ Ball.
On the occasion of her previous appearance Mlle. Kyasht’s name had been printed in the programme as Mlle. Lydia Kyaksht, and I remember well the humorous dismay the late Mr. H. J. Hitchins expressed to me as he asked: “How
“A Day in Paris” was notable not only for the appearance of the new Russian premiÈre in a couple of pas seuls and an extremely charming Danse Russe, but for the brilliant acting and step-dancing of Mr. Fred Farren, who as a Montmartre student freakishly officiating as “a man from Cook’s” to a party of tourists, proved himself a born comedian; while in association with that lithe and graceful dancer, Miss Beatrice Collier, his Danse des Apaches—a dance without the charm of beauty but undeniably clever—was one of the “sensations” of the production, so much so that the dancers became in much request for entertaining at social functions that season, as Tango performers have been since. Another member of the company, who, though but a child, achieved a marked success, was Miss Phyllis Bedells, who did some wonderful toe-dancing with, and without, a skipping rope. The ballet was one of the liveliest and “jolliest” of many such topical and essentially “modern” entertainments at the Empire, and it ran from October 1908, well into the next summer.
Yet once again Mlle. Adeline GÉnÉe returned to the scene of her former triumphs to achieve one more, this time in the famous ballet-divertissement from the third act of Meyerbeer’s opera, “Roberto il Diavolo,” which was produced by her uncle, M. Alexandre GÉnÉe, on July 3rd, 1909, the mise en scÈne and costumes being designed and supervised by Mr. C. Wilhelm. Once more we had an opportunity of enjoying a perfect representation of one of the classics of Ballet, in which Mlle. Adeline GÉnÉe appeared as the Spirit of Elena the wicked abbess, who, with the spectres of the dead and buried nuns, haunts a ruined Sicilian Convent. It was a fine and spirituelle performance, and a fitting crown to what we may perhaps be allowed to call Mlle. GÉnÉe’s Imperial career.
This was followed on October 9th, 1909, by “Round the World,” a new dramatic ballet in six scenes, by Lieut.-Col. Newnham-Davis and Mr. C. Wilhelm, the entire production being designed and supervised by the latter, and the dances arranged by Mr. Fred Farren, who himself played the part of a resourceful chauffeur, while Mlle. Lydia Kyasht impersonated the lovely heroine, Natalia, a Russian gipsy girl, and Miss Phyllis Bedells her younger brother, Dmitri. The story concerned the winning of a wager by the hero, a Captain Jack Beresford, (Mr. Noel Fleming), who has to circle the world in a month; and the course of his adventures took us from the grounds of the Monaco Club to the Place Krasnaia, Moscow, on the occasion of a wonderfully realised national fÊte, where he rescues Natalia and her brother from Tzabor, a brutal proprietor of a troupe of gipsy dancers. The third scene was on the Siberian railway; the fourth a lovely scene at Tokio, in the Garden of Ten Thousand Joys, where the hero is nearly poisoned; the fifth, ’Frisco, in “One-eyed Jack’s” saloon, with a capital Duo Mexicain for Mr. Fred Farren and pretty Miss Unity More; the sixth
Mlle. Kyasht and M. Adolf Bolm, who, early in May, 1910, appeared in a “Fantaisie ChorÉgraphique,” a series of charming dance-idylls, produced by M. Bolm, are remarkable for that high-voltage dancing, that volcanic energy and rapidity yet grace of movement, characteristic of the Russian school, some notable exponents of which were appearing just about the same time elsewhere.
The chief dance of the suite at the Empire was one in which Mlle. Kyasht appeared as a beautiful Princess, and M. Bolm as her enamoured slave—Mlle. Kyasht all charm and poetic ecstasy, M. Bolm all fiery energy and terpsichorean miracles, now whirling madly as the wildest of Dervishes, now suddenly stopping, poised and posed like some perfect example of classic statuary. The dancers received excellent support from Miss Phyllis Bedells and Mr. Bert Ford; the mounting and costumes were novel and admirably designed; and the production generally was voted a great success.
In the following July came a delightful ballet-divertissement, “The Dancing Master,” by Mr. C. Wilhelm, adapted from the first scene of his earlier success, “The DÉbutante,” the period chosen—that of 1835—affording a delightful opportunity for a quaint and picturesque ensemble of “early-Victorian” or slightly pre-Victorian character and costume. Mr. Fred Farren repeated his excellent character-study of M. Pirouette, the excitable maÎtre de ballet at the Opera-House;
On October 10th following Mlle. Kyasht and Mr. Fred Farren appeared in another of Miss Dora Bright’s ideal little fantasies, “The Faun,” in which the former played Ginestra, a little flower-girl, and the latter appeared in the title-rÔle as a marble faun who comes to life when sprinkled with water from a magic fountain. The production, designed and supervised by Mr. C. Wilhelm, was enchanting in its blending of legend and mystery, with a sunny naturalism in presentation.
It was a charming idyll, and provided an excellent opportunity for clever acting by Mr. Fred Farren, who fully realised the classic and poetic idea in his representation of the Faun, while Mlle. Kyasht quite surpassed her former work in her appealing and dramatic impersonation of the bewitched Ginestra.
A considerable contrast to the classic grace of this Tuscan idyll was seen in the following month when “Ship Ahoy!” a nautical one-scene divertissement by Mr. C. Wilhelm, with music by Mr. Cuthbert Clarke, was staged by Mr. Fred Farren, who also arranged the dances. It was a lively and attractive production, with plenty of fun and a dash of melodrama, the fun being contributed mainly by Mr. Fred Farren as a dandy young officer on leave, and for all his “dudism” wide-awake enough to frustrate the horrid machinations of a treacherous Ayah (originally and admirably played by Miss Beatrice Collier and later by Miss Carlotta Mossetti) and her accomplice. The young officer’s lighter
Once more we had a classic ballet when, on May 18th, 1911, Delibes’ “Sylvia,” which, originally in five tableaux, was compressed by Mr. C. Wilhelm into one for production at the Empire. With its poetic mythological story and charming sylvan setting, “Sylvia”—first produced at the Paris Opera on June 14th, 1876—has always been popular on the Continent; and it is curious that London should have had to wait some twenty-five years before again seeing a ballet, selections from which had long been familiar as entr’acte-music for theatre orchestras. Still, it was worth waiting to see it so admirably staged.
Another contrast followed in the extremely modern and somewhat formless production, “New York,” an original ballet in two scenes, by Lieut.-Col. Newnham-Davis, in which seemingly every form of American eccentricity in dancing—including the “Yankee Tangle!”—was introduced. There was a dance of Bowery boys and girls; a “Temptation Rag,” by Mr. Fred Farren; a Buck Dance, an “Octette Eccentric”; a “Bill-poster’s Dance”; the aforesaid “Yankee Tangle,” and other not particularly beautiful or edifying examples,
Early in the next year, a brief but graceful “Dance Episode” was staged, “The Water Nymph,” arranged by Mlle. Kyasht, who followed on September 24th with another, entitled “First Love,” in which she was supported by Mons. Alexander Volinin. This was followed on February 11th, 1913, by another fanciful ballet-idyll, “The Reaper’s Dream,” in which Mlle. Lydia Kyasht appeared as the “Spirit of the Wheatsheaf,” seen and pursued in his dream by the reaper (Miss F. Martell); while Miss Phyllis Bedells made a dazzling personage as “Sun-Ray,” flitting in and out the autumn cornfield, which formed the setting for some very pretty dances by the three ladies and the Empire corps de ballet.
One of the most artistic productions at the Empire in quite recent years was certainly the choral ballet, in three tableaux: “Titania,” which, adapted of course from Shakespeare’s “Midsummer Night’s Dream,” was arranged and produced by Mlle. Lydia Kyasht and by Mr. C. Wilhelm, the latter of whom was, as usual, entirely responsible for the pictorial side of the ballet. It is interesting to note that this was not the first time a Shakespeare play had been so treated. No less a person than the great Dryden had adapted “The Tempest” at a time, shortly before the Great Fire of London, when Sir William Davenant was producing “dramatic operas” at a theatre designed by Wren, the Duke’s Theatre in Lincoln’s Inn Fields, which he held under a patent granted in 1662 by Charles II. These, as an earlier historian records, were “all set off with the most expensive decorations of scenes and habits, with the best voices and dancers.”
Mme. Lydia Kyasht
Miss Phyllis Bedells
Then, too, it was but a return to early history to give us vocal-ballet, for all the earliest ballets on the French stage
A new edition of “The Dancing Master” was subsequently staged and was notable for some brilliant dancing by Miss Phyllis Bedells, and by Mr. Edouard Espinosa in the title-rÔle, by whom it was produced. Mr. Espinosa, by the way, forms an interesting link with the historic past. As the son of Mons. Leon Espinosa (1825-1903), an Officier D’AcadÉmie, Mr. Edouard is heir of a great tradition, and sustains the heritage most worthily. His father was a pupil of seven of the great masters of the early nineteenth, namely, Coulon (1820), Henri (1821), Albert (1829), Perrot (1831), Coralli (1831), Taglioni (1834), and Petipa (1839), to most of whom reference has already been made, and who were themselves, variously, pupils of the previous generation—which included Vestris, Noverre, Gardel, and Dauberval—who, in turn, were tutored by PÉcourt and Beauchamps in the reign of
“Europe,” a topical and patriotic divertissement, invented, designed and produced by Mr. C. Wilhelm (who, despite his nom de thÉÂtre, has an English name and is essentially English born and bred), achieved, on its first performance on September 7th, 1914, an instant success. It was worthy of the best traditions of the Empire Theatre. The choice of such a theme as the condition of Europe, just before and during the greatest war in history, might have been called into question on the score of taste, and in the hands of any but a fine artist might have easily been trivialised. The subject was treated with marked dramatic ability and poetic dignity, and the production, passing from the comparative lightness of the first scene, into the more serious note of the second, attained to a high level of art in the patriotic symbolism of the third, and offered a tableau worthy the brush of any English painter of historical subjects. Since then we have seen “The Vine,” an Arcadian dance-idyll, invented, designed and supervised by Mr. C. Wilhelm, while it was produced, and the dances were arranged, by Mr. Fred Farren. It was superbly staged and proved one of the most original, picturesque and dramatic productions ever seen at the Empire. Miss Phyllis Bedell’s impersonation of the Spirit of the Vine seemed to have in it something of Dionysiac fire and revealed her not only as an exquisite dancer, but a sensitive and temperamental actress. Miss Carlotta Mossetti, another singularly expressive and sympathetic mime, exhibited a sense of classic inspiration in her study of the young Shepherd tempted by the Vine-Spirit; excellent work also being done by Miss Connie Walter as the Shepherd’s unhappy wife, and “Little June,” a lithe and clever little dancer, as the Spirit of the
So runs, in brief, the chronicle of ballet at the Empire, one which, if it is somewhat attenuated in later years by the increasing emphasis of that somewhat casual type of entertainment, the “Revue,” is nevertheless quite remarkable when one remembers that of the sixty or more ballets produced at the famous house in twenty-seven years all were commercially as well as artistically successful, and that the theatre has not received State-aid, as have the continental opera-houses where Ballet has been a staple attraction.
Thoughtless folk, who know little or nothing of the hard, unremitting toil which goes to make a dancer, or of the artistic training, thought and feeling which go to make a designer or producer of ballet, often speak lightly and slightingly of a type of theatrical production in which are blended colour, form, movement and music into a balanced harmony of varied arts under the term the art of Ballet. They rank it, usually, somewhere lower than Drama or Opera. But the placing of a colour in a colour scheme requires quite as delicate a taste as the placing of a word in a sentence, or a chord in a phrase of music; the introduction of a dancer or a group needs just as critical a care as the introduction of a character in a play or opera; and the telling of the story, albeit mutely mimed, may be just as dramatic in effect as in any verbal drama. The art of Ballet is a complex and beautiful art, at its best a very beautiful; and those who are prone to dismiss it lightly as a thing that more or less occurs of itself, and is of slight account as a vehicle for the
CHAPTER XXXV
FINALE: THE RUSSIANS AND—THE FUTURE
It is curious to recall the fact that a taste for dancing has always been a characteristic of the Londoners, who have supported really artistic ballet as often as they have had an opportunity.
The Elizabethan masques; the ballet dancers imported by Rich in the reign of Anne; and by Garrick, later; by Lumley at Her Majesty’s in the ’forties; the native productions of Ballet at the Empire and Alhambra for over a quarter of a century; and, since, the importation of Russian ballet, first at various “vaudeville” theatres and then at Covent Garden and at Drury Lane, have all met with enthusiastic support, and the support has been as catholic as it has been cordial.
Dancers, of various schools, whether of the traditional ballet “school,” or otherwise, have quickly found their way into popular favour. Looking back over theatrical memories of the past twenty years or so, dance lovers will recall with pleasure seeing at the Palace Theatre that statuesque and extremely graceful dancer, Miss Mimi St. Cyr, in a delightful little miniature ballet, “La Baigneuse,” a dance-scena invented by Mr. George R. Sims, in which she lured to life the fountain-statue of a piping faun. Some will recall also a dancer of very different school, Miss Lottie Collins, whose “Tarrara-boom-de-ay” was a sensation in its way. Then, too, who that saw her could ever forget that electric dancer
“Passion and power and pride incarnate in laughter,” held us all spellbound and breathless with sympathetic joy in her abounding vitality, stimulating and tonic as champagne.
In more recent times the sensational success of Miss Maud Allan—who presented us with the somewhat mystical definition of dancing as “the spontaneous expression of a spiritual state”; and, subsequently, of Mme. Pavlova and M. Mordkin; is too recent to need recalling, and too evident to call for specific praise from me when so many and abler pens have already exhausted their ink in regretting they could not write in fire. Admirers, particularly feminine devotees, flocked in hundreds to see Miss Maud Allan dance in a manner which many doubtless thought wholly new to London, though some might have recalled that it was somewhat of the same school—though temperamentally very different—as that of Miss Isadora Duncan, who had given us dances of a rather similar order some ten years before, and that they were akin to the mimetic dances of ancient days.
Miss Allan achieved a remarkable flexibility of movement that was seen to advantage in her dances to the music of Chopin and other classic masters. Her interpretation of the “Spring Song” of Mendelssohn was not wholly new to those who had seen Miss Isadora Duncan’s exposition of the same music some ten years before. Her “Salome,” a melodrama in dancing, created a sensation, though somewhat morbid in effect, and hardly of the same artistic interest as some of her other achievements. Of her popularity there was no doubt, and a photograph of one of the queues which awaited any one of her performances, especially the matinÉes, would—if one exist—always be valuable to future historians of our time as a mute but eloquent record.
Mme. Pavlova, who also first appeared at the Palace Theatre, is an extremely accomplished danseuse who probably has not troubled, and certainly has not needed to trouble herself, about definitions of the dance, for she belongs to a “school,” the basis of which was defined a century or more ago, and she herself is one of its most recent and perfect blossomings. Mons. Mordkin, nurtured by the same school, is superb, and it was no wonder that the first appearance of these two artistes in their wonderful pas de deux, “L’Automne Bacchanale,” should have fired some of our finest dramatic critics to expressions of almost frenzied admiration and doubtless driven shoals of lesser men to the neighbourhood of Hanwell in despair at the impossibility of finding suitable adjectives for the new wonder that had come amongst us. One can only deplore the fact that the harmony which made possible the pas de deux of the first season should have been, even temporarily, broken, and permitted us only to enjoy the work of both dancers subsequently in pas seuls, or in pas de deux—with other partners.
One could hardly close a reference to the popular Palace—a reference necessarily brief, as must be any concerning the various “vaudeville” houses in a review covering so wide a field—without a passing word of grateful praise to that bevy of bright young dancers, the “Palace Girls.” As people of catholic enough taste to enjoy all dancing that is good in itself—from the vigorous cellar-flap of the street urchin to the aerial pas of a Pavlova—we may agree that, in a sense, the Palace has been all the more attractive for the “Palace Girls.” Somehow the modern comedic spirit appears to express itself best in short skirts, shapely legs and a jolly smile; and in their insouciante charm, their neatness, agility, precision and enfantine gaiety, the “Palace Girls” always seemed to focalise the requirements of “vaudeville,” and symbolise the attractions of music-hall modernity.
Then, at the London Hippodrome, in many a Christmas entertainment, ingeniously arranged and gorgeously staged, half pantomime, half ballet, we have seen regular feasts of dancing and always with enjoyment. But apart from the spectacular productions for which the Hippodrome early became famous, many a delightful solo dancer and dance-scena have been viewed there. To have seen those exquisitely dainty artists, the Wiesenthal Sisters, is to have ineffaceable memories of a stage-art that seems strangely enough to link up the classic simplicity of ancient Greece with the Watteauesque artifice of the eighteenth century, and yet again the clear-seeing artistry, the supreme and joyous colour-sense of latter day decorative art. The tone and hue of their chosen background, the simple yet daring colour-scheme of their dress, the thoughtful, almost dreamy, grace of their every pose and movement, the purely picture-like effect of their whole performance, summed up the modern spirit in art that is striving—perhaps as yet half-consciously—for a revolt from old methods and stereotyped traditions and for something simpler, clearer, more direct and, be it said, more beautiful and vital than we have yet had; the art, in fact, of the men to come rather than the men who have been, albeit it has drawn inspiration from the eternal past. The Wiesenthal Sisters were not mere “performers”; they were poems.
Elsewhere, at various houses, what other dancers have we seen of individual distinction? Long remembered must be the sensation caused by Miss Loie Fuller on her first appearance in London some years ago, as the introducer of a curious form of dance in which the stage effects she achieved were the paramount attraction. And what effects they were—kaleidoscopic, magic, wonderful! Just a woman, with a brain and shapely form, a mass of filmy draperies floated here and there, on which were shed the splendour
Then there was Miss Ruth St. Denis at the Scala—a vision of all the poetry and the mystery of the East. Ruth St. Denis in an Indian market-place representing a snake-dance, making cobras of her flexible arms and hands! Ruth St. Denis as a Buddhist acolyte in the jungle! Ruth St. Denis in a “Dance of the Senses,” so significantly poetic and full of strange allure. Always the glamour of the East, but without its menace and without its vice; the East exalted and austere. Moreau himself might have envied her those dreams of form and colour she made manifest, and all who saw her surely must have realised that Ruth St. Denis danced her lovely pictures as an artist born.
Yet another artist of marked individuality and intellectual distinction, Miss Isadora Duncan, was really the first to appear in London who showed any marked ability to break away from the traditional schools of ballet and step-dancing, and, casting back to the days of ancient Greece, began deliberately to use posture and movement as a means of expressing poetic ideas. I first saw her at her London dÉbut, when she appeared in a performance of “A Midsummer Night’s Dream,” one of a series of Shakespearian revivals which Mr. F. R. Benson was giving—on February 22nd, 1900—at the old Lyceum.
She had but lately arrived from America, and was fired with an enthusiasm for the graceful dance of classic days, an enthusiasm which found ample expression in her dance as a wood-nymph in a Shakespearian production which I still remember as one of the most beautiful I have seen. Shortly after Miss Duncan gave a special matinÉe at the old
One of the items on her programme was Mendelssohn’s “Spring Song,” which received a thoroughly graceful and sympathetic interpretation. Miss Duncan has, of course, appeared in London frequently since then, and all dance-lovers will remember the extraordinary charm of the series of matinÉes which she gave at the Duke of York’s Theatre at which she introduced a number of child pupils. There has never been anything meretricious or pretentious about the work of Miss Isadora Duncan. It has always been marked by a sense of deep-rooted culture, classic dignity and poetic charm, and to her, certainly, so far as London is concerned, belongs the credit of having first introduced a form of dancing which has only too often since been parodied under the term of “classic dancing”; and even as she was the first, so, in my humble judgment, she is the best and truest exponent of a school which is justified by the beauty of its results, and which is having, and is likely yet to have, far-reaching influence.
Miss Isadora Duncan
Then again, the Coliseum, young as it is, has already created dance traditions for itself, and of the best sort. Was it not there first of all that we were enchanted with the Russian ballet? They were not the first Russian dancers seen in London, for Mlle. Kyasht and Mme. Pavlova had preceded them; but they were the first collective example of Russian ballet from the Moscow and Petrograd Opera-Houses, and it was here we first saw Mme. Karsavina, one of the most supremely finished and ÉlÉgante dancers it has been
Her variation in the “Sylphide” was a revelation of classic art of the Taglioni school, and howsoever some may prefer one “school” to another there must always be much to be said for a training which assists the evolution of such artists, for at least it is a sure training with sure and gracious results.
There is something in tradition when all it said and done, and one has to remember that while even an iconoclastic “Futurist” cannot help creating tradition in attempting to do away with it, and while pure ballet-dancing may not be the one and only kind which can give delight, it must command the respect that is due to any art which respects its own traditions, and can produce such dancers as Mme. Karsavina and those who were first associated with her at the Coliseum.
More recently, we were to see at the same house, “Sumurun!” It was strange indeed to think that a London audience could be held by some seven scenes of a play in which not a word was spoken; it was a tour de force of the art of miming, but then also it was a revelation of the art of stage effect. The decorative scheme, with its simple lines and ample space, was unlike anything that we had had before—unless perhaps in the nobler art of Mr. Gordon Craig—and the colour schemes, mostly of a curiously dry, cool note, were a pleasant change from the traditional attempts at a stage realism that is only too often too unreal.
Since then too there was, of course, the appearance of that dainty Dresden-china dancer, Mme. Karina in a graceful little dance-scena, “The Colour of Life,” the expressive music of which was by Miss Dora Bright. Mme. Karina, another dancer who hails from Denmark, won instant appreciation for
Yet again has Mlle. Adeline GÉnÉe made welcome reappearances at the Coliseum, especially in “La Danse”—first produced, I believe, at the Metropolitan Opera House, New York—which formed a series of representations of the dances and dancers of the historic past—forming practically a collection of little cameos of the dance, having a distinct educational value and presenting a veritable re-creation of all the great stars of Ballet in the past, from PrÉvÔt to Taglioni; in all of which the world-famous dancer exhibited the same high qualities of artistry that she had ever done.
But among the many dance productions seen at this handsome house probably the two most satisfactory judged as ballet were the production of Mr. Wilhelm’s “Camargo,” with Mlle. GÉnÉe in the title-rÔle; and M. Kosloff’s production of “Scheherazade,” the two forming an outstanding contrast in one’s memory. The former, with the quiet dignity, soft light and sumptuous stage embellishments of furniture and dÉcors, and the dream-like quality assumed by the characters in this rich and harmonious setting. One found in it something of that visionary quality which gave the peculiar charm to the “Versailles” production which I spoke of in referring to the Empire. The music and the acting were so expressive that one did not miss the words, and yet half-consciously one knew they were not there just because of the dream-like atmosphere which the music itself so helped to create.
The royal grace and dignity of Louis-Quinze, the butterfly vivacity of Camargo herself, and the more vital and quieter actions of her young soldier friend for whose misdeeds she pleads for pardon from the King, were all but dream figures in a dream, and it was as if the veil of the past had been suddenly drawn aside and one had a glimpse of a century
There was nothing of the cool and dream-like quality, however, about Mons. Kosloff’s “Scheherazade.” Exotic, bizarre, palpitant with warmth and colour, the production stormed the imagination with its extravagance of hue and tone, even as the tangled rhythms and seductive melodies of the music captured the hearing and through it subdued the mind to a sort of dazzled wonder. It was a stupendous achievement, the more so in that it was brief.
At various times and at various places we have seen in London during the past ten years or so every form of dance and ballet it would seem could possibly exist. “Sand” dances; “Buck” dances; “Hypnotic” dances; “Salome” dances; “Vampire” dances; “Apache,” “Classic,” “Viennese,” Turkish, Egyptian, Russian, “Inspirational” dancers, and even English ballet-dancers in an all-British ballet once at the handsome Palladium; and also at the Court and Savoy, where Stedman staged some delightful ballets performed, under the direction of Miss Lilian Leoffeler and Mr. Marshall Moore, by English dancers. Not only at the regular vaudeville houses and theatres, however, is to be found genuine appreciation of the British dance and dancer. Elsewhere an English school of dance has been founded, and that in a form for which the English nation was famous in Shakespeare’s time.
Henley made his plea for “Gigues, Gavottes and Minuets,” but there are many other lovely, or lovelier, examples of old-world dance to old-world music, which scholarship has revived and good taste has been eagerly accepting wherever they were seen—Pavane, Chaconne, Coranto, Galliard,
I saw this put to the test once when, at a hall in the somewhat dingy neighbourhood of Bethnal Green, a performance of the “Ancient Music and Dances,” arranged by Miss Nellie Chaplin, was received by an audience of East End work-people with such whole-hearted enthusiasm that practically every item in a programme often performed in West End drawing-rooms and at Queen’s and Albert Halls, as well as at Liverpool and Manchester, Guildford, Oxford and elsewhere, was encored, and several were doubly and trebly so.
A Galliard of the seventeenth century, an Allemande by an English composer, Robert Johnson (1540-1626), Handel’s Oboe Concerto (1734), a Sarabande by Destouches (1672), “Lady Elizabeth Spencer’s Minuet” performed at Blenheim in 1788—all these and other historically interesting items were encored by the audience, not because of their historic interest, but simply because of their joyousness and charm; while a bourrÉe by Mouret (1742), and the fascinating Old English dance, “Once I loved a maiden fair” (one of a group including “Althea,” “Lord of Carnarvon’s Jig,” and Stanes’ Morris-dance) had to be given three times. This was all complimentary, of course, to the beautiful way in which
Veritably we seem to have seen every known form of dance and type of dancer in London during the past twenty years or so, and latterly we have had at the Royal Opera-House, and, since, at Drury Lane, such a festival of ballet as has not been seen in England since the ’forties of last century, for here we have seen a galaxy of dancers from the two great opera-houses of Russia, that of the Mariensky at Petrograd, and that of the great theatre in Moscow, where the traditional training for ballet has been kept up and infused with a new artistic spirit such as is hardly to be found in any other continental opera-house.
Early in last century Carlo Blasis brought the Milan school to perfection, and thence went teachers to Paris, Vienna, Dresden, Moscow, Petrograd, wherever they went carrying something of the artistic spirit and culture of their master, one of the most versatile maÎtres de ballet there has ever been, for there seems to have been scarcely an art of which he did not know something, and of which he could not say something worth hearing.
But since those days probably nowhere quite as in Russia has the ballet moved with the times and been so imbued with the new artistic spirit which has been at work within the past generation.
Painter, musician, poet, dramatist, and maÎtre de ballet, are called upon to produce the homogeneous and individual spectacle which we call the Russian ballet.
One has to recall but a few examples from the Russian rÉpertoire to note with what serious artistic purpose the art of Ballet is studied by the representatives of the best school. Glazounov’s “Cleopatra,” a “mimodrame” in one act; “Les Sylphides,” a rÊverie romantique, the music by Chopin; Schumann’s exquisitely whimsical “Le Carnaval,” made into a pantomime-ballet in one act; “Le Dieu Bleu,” by that curiously interesting and rÊveur composer Reynaldo Hahn. These are among the productions which, ranging over classic, poetic and romantic subjects, would veritably have appealed to such artists of the Ballet as Rameau, Noverre, Gardel and Blasis, not to mention other maÎtres of more recent times. And what dancers to interpret them! M. Nijinsky, perhaps the best male dancer of our time, so good that one’s usual objection to the male dancer melted into admiration: Mme. Karsavina, Mlles. Sophie Fedorova and Ludmilla Schollar were among the danseuses who had been seen in London previously, and were each in their degree remarkable not only as dancers but as brilliant mimes. There was not one among the extensive and interesting cast who was not of Russia’s best, the best that is that can come from the school where the traditional art of Ballet is understood not to be the result of a mere few lessons in “dancing,” but the result of a study also of all that is best in the traditions of art and music and literature, from all of which the art of Ballet draws its inspiration.
Yet again, one must pay tribute to the Russian artists on their masterly sense of stage effect, and for that supreme sense of what the ballet should be, namely, a harmony of the arts. One has but to contrast three such productions as “Les Sylphides,” “Cleopatra,” and Schumann’s “Carnaval,” to see a revelation of stage artistry which put to shame the conventionality which, save in rare instances—and in English ballet—had characterised the London stage so long.
In “Les Sylphides” we had the very essence of that spirit of romanticism in which cultured Europe was revelling during the ’twenties and the ’thirties of last century, a spirit which found expression in depicting the wildness and grandeur of mountain scenery, in the cloud-like fantasies of Shelley, in the poignant intensity of Byronic passion, and the romantic glamour of Spanish and German legend.
In “Cleopatra” we had a glimpse of the pride and passion of an imperious Queen, ruling over a nation whose own passions were but subdued by tyranny, in a land where earth itself seemed satiated with the fructifying influence of water and a burning sun. From the first moment to the last the stage was in a glow, and a red thread of tragedy deepened to a climax of despair.
What a change to turn from such a production to the whimsies, romance and fantasy of such a thing as Schumann’s “Carnaval!” Here was the obverse of the romanticism of “Les Sylphides”; the undercurrent of mockery and poetic cynicism so characteristic of Schumann’s own music in its lighter moods, characteristic of Heine and of de Musset. Here again one found a masterly idea in the audacious simplicity of the stage setting. To see the great stage of Covent Garden decorated with long curtains and two sofas of the truly early-Victorian pattern—stiff, prim, unyielding, and covered with striped repp—was a thing to take one’s breath away, until, as the music began, little figure after little figure slipped, like figures in a dream, between the curtains: Pierrot, Pierrette, Harlequin—little men and women of the ’thirties mingling with these eternal characters of drama, to make a series of pictures of wooings and repulses, of meetings and partings, of provocations and denials, revealing the comedy of life, seen as it were in a glass “not darkly,” but as a dream far off and mistily; eminently unreal; yet, in
“Le Sacre du Printemps” was an ambitious attempt at primitivism—if one may use the word—but while disliking its suggestion of megalomania and the formlessness of its decoration, one could not but admire so audacious an endeavour to break wholly with tradition; and it was redeemed by the virility and fantastic, mocking humour and scenic splendour of Rimsky-Korsakov and Michel Fokine’s “Le Coq d’Or,” and still more by the beauty of Leon Bakst and Tcherepinin’s “Narcisse,” and the poetic charm of “Le Spectre de la Rose.”
These, however, are but brief impressions of recent pleasures, shared by many others who may have been differently impressed. We have had many books and articles on the Russian ballet—some perhaps a little over-enthusiastic—and it is not my purpose to deal extensively with history so recent that most readers can as readily give account thereof.
When all is said, the significant fact remaining is—that at this end of the history of an art some two thousand years old we find most recently in popular favour not English ballet as it was in the sixteenth-century days of the essentially English Masque; not French as it was in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries; not Italian, as it was in the ’forties of last century; nor English as we have seen it, at its best, at the Empire and Alhambra in the past quarter of a century; but the Russian ballet! the balance of the arts; which the Russians have only been able to do by sheer technical efficiency—quite apart from ideas or ideals expressed—in all the arts of which ballet is composed, and which has enabled them to do exactly that which they have set out to do. That, perhaps, is the one thing that Russian ballet has shown us, which is of the greatest value and significance for any lovers of the art in any capital of the world.
Mme. Karsavina and M. Adolf Bolm in “L’Oiseau de Feu”
One may ask, however, what is the position of England in regard not only to ballet, but to the other arts? We have State, and County Council Art and Craft schools; we have the Royal Academy of Music, the Royal College, the Guildhall School, and numerous private schools and “academies” where music and the dramatic arts are taught; all admirable as far as they go. We have, as yet, no State-aided theatre and no State-aided opera-house, to which, as on the Continent, an academy for the study of the dance and ballet is attached. Is it not strange that the richest city in the world should be deficient in these things?
It may be that there is greater vitality in the arts when they are pursued only under the conditions of competitive, private enterprise; but it is curious that in practically every other country the dramatic arts have been fostered by the State, and that we in this country seem ever to show a greater welcome to foreign singers and dancers than we do to our own.
There is, of course, always a great danger that an institution, secure in the support it receives from the State, may become conventional; the spirit of its art may grow arid and unprofitable, but at least it ensures a standard of technical efficiency, and, if there be a vital spirit in the nation, that spirit will show itself in the work of such an institution. Russia has proved all this.
Given a National Opera-House, to which were attached a Royal Academy of Dancing, what might the future of Ballet be in this country?
The answer depends mainly, one feels, on the extent of the possibilities to which the art of Ballet could be realised by those who lead in the artistic expression of the national spirit. The poet, the artist, the musician, the Master of Dance, and the dancers—men and women—realising the possibilities of the composite art of Ballet, might foreshadow
It would seem that now and then, through lack of technical efficiency in one or other of the arts which go to the making of ballet, that ballet itself has not always attained its highest possible level in England.
But without that basic technical efficiency in the living material which he manipulates, how can the creator of the ballet express himself? A standard of technique at least should exist. That given, what might not yet be done with this art, which history shows has always been so plastic in the hands of the master-artist, so responsive to the artistic or national moods of the people among whom it has been found.
It has the value and significance of painting, together with the vital and impressive effect of drama. It is not the art of depicting reality; but the art of pictorial suggestion, giving life and form to poetic ideas.
At the Royal or Ducal Courts of earlier days the compliment to monarch or to minister would be conveyed by means of a courtly ballet, the story of which dealt outwardly perhaps only with the doings of some mythic hero of the classic past. But the art of Ballet always had greater possibilities than courtly compliment, in that it is always a plastic vehicle for the expression of all ideas; and, given the standard of efficiency which makes production possible at all, it only becomes a question of what theme shall be treated by this means rather than by the arts of painting, or of music, or drama, or of literature.
On these two points—the standard of technical efficiency attained by those associated in the production of ballet, and on the choice of theme and manner of treatment by the artist-mind
What shall be the technique of ballet, and to what extent shall it be influenced by that of the dance?
To-day, the forms of dancing are various, but there are three main divisions: first, all popular forms of “step,” or, to adopt an old and useful term, “toe-and-heel” dancing; secondly, the traditional “toe”-dancing of classic ballet, capable of every nuance of expression; and thirdly, the various forms of rhythmic movement and effects of poise, which seem to approach nearly to the ancient Hellenic ideal of the Dance, and of which Miss Isadora Duncan was perhaps the first exponent in England, as Mrs. Roger Watts is the latest; while yet another phase of the same ideal is seen in the Eurhythmic system of Jacques Dalcroze, which has had, and will have, great influence in many directions.
We have seen on the London stage ballets in which the dancing was almost wholly “step”-dancing, toe-and-heel—such as “On the Heath,” at the Alhambra; we have seen numberless ballets in which the traditional “toe”-dancing was paramount, from “CoppÉlia” to “Roberto il Diavolo,” or the later productions of the Russians; we have not yet seen a ballet composed entirely, or even mainly on the lines of the Hellenic revival, though we have had hints of it in concerted dances by pupils of Miss Duncan and others, and the complete thing may yet come, though, personally, I question the advisability. We have already had some curious, interesting, and not quite illogical attempts to suggest scenic effect by means of living people performing appropriate and rhythmic movements, as in the production of Mr. Reginald Buckley’s poetic drama “King Arthur.”
In one or other of these three divisions of the dance and
As to the master-mind that is to select one or other of these forms of the Dance, and combine it with miming, music and scenic effect to achieve a ballet that shall be the medium of ideas, worthy to range as a work of art alongside the tried masterpieces of painting, music, drama or literature, it may be questioned if we shall see anything worthier than the past has given us at its best. Some new Noverre or Blasis, Wilhelm or Fokine may yet arise, of course; but until such a one come forth we may be well content with the standard which the Past has managed to achieve.
To that standard this volume is a willing tribute; a faithful record, which may have novelty for some, unaware of days before their time; while for others, whose memory of more recent—but yet receding!—events, grows dim, it may come as a friendly reminder of pleasant hours spent, by writer and by reader, in contemplating from the auditorium the varied examples seen at London theatres of the protean Art of Ballet.
THE END
