Stage-DANCES. The Greeks were the first who united the dance to their tragedies and comedies; not indeed as making part of those spectacles, but merely as an accessory.
The Romans, as usual, copied after the Greeks; but in the reign of Augustus they left their instructors far behind them. Two very extraordinary men made their appearance at that time: they invented a new species of entertainment, and carried it to an astonishing degree of perfection. Nothing was then talked of but the wonderful talents and amazing performances of Pyrides and Bathylus, who were the first to introduce among the Romans what the French call the ballet d'action, wherein the performer is both actor and dancer.
Pyrides undertook the hard task of representing, with the assistance of the dance alone, strong and pathetic situations. He succeeded perhaps beyond his own expectation, and may be called the father of that style of dancing which is known to us by the name of grave or serious pantomime.
Bathylus, an Alexandrian and a freedman of Mecenas, took upon himself to represent such subjects as required a certain liveliness and agility. He was handsome in his person; and the two great scourges of Roman follies, Persius, and especially Juvenal, speak of him as the gallant of every woman in Rome. The latter, in his cynic style, even goes so far as to say, that when Bathylus performed the dance called, after the name of a celebrated female dancer, Cheromenor-Leda, the gravest matron was turned off her guard, and the young virgin longed for the dancer's addresses.
Nature had been excessively partial to those two men. They were endowed with genius, and all the exterior charms that could captivate the eye. By their study, application, and the desire to establish a lasting reputation, they displayed to the greatest advantage all the resources which the art of dancing could supply. These, like two phenomena, disappeared, and never did the world see "their like again." Government withdrew.
Dance. withdrew its protection; the art gradually sunk into obscurity, and became even entirely forgotten on the accession of Trajan to the empire.
Thus buried with the other arts in entire oblivion, dancing remained uncultivated till about the 15th century, when ballets were revived in Italy at the magnificent entertainment given by a nobleman of Lombardy at Tortona on account of the marriage between Galeas duke of Milan and Isabella of Aragon. Every resource that poetry, music, dancing, and machinery could supply, was employed and exhausted on the occasion. The description given of so superb an entertainment excited the admiration of all Europe, and excited the emulation of several men of genius, who improved the hint to introduce among their countrymen a kind of spectacle equally pleasing and novel.
It would seem, however, that at first the women had no share in the public or theatrical dance; at least we do not see them mentioned in the various entertainments given at the opera in Paris till the 21st of January 1681, when the then dauphinesse, the princess of Conti, and some other ladies of the first distinction in the court of Louis XIV. performed a ballet with the opera called Le Triomphe de l'Amour. This union of the two sexes served to enliven and render the spectacle more pleasing and more brilliant than it ever was at any other period. It was received with so much applause, that on the 16th of May following, when the same opera was acted in Paris at the theatre of the Palais Royal, it was thought indispensable for the success of that kind of entertainment to introduce female dancers. They have continued ever since to be the principal support of the opera.
The dance is now in such commendation, that, particularly in France, the opera-house seems rather an academy for dancing than calculated for the representation of lyric poems. The disgusting and immoderate length of their recitatives is one of the chief causes of that general taste for dancing which prevails amongst them. A wit being asked one day what could be done to keep up an opera threatened with a most complete damnation? "Do!" (says he); why, lengthen the dances and shorten the petticoats." So evident it is, that singing, though apparently the chief purpose of an opera, is by no means the most pleasing part of the entertainment for the spectators.
Thus, what was at first introduced as a mere accessory to the musical performance, became in process of time its only support; and this circumstance excited the emulation of several eminent ballet-masters. The art, however, of composing those grand dances, which are now so much admired, was for many years in a state of infancy, till Monsieur Noverre stepped forth and gave it that degree of perfection which it seems impossible to exceed. This celebrated ballet-master and performer, in a work lately published, has with great elegance and ingenuity delineated the nature, objects, and powers of dancing, enumerated the proper requisites to give it effect, and shown how much it may be ennobled by an acquaintance with the kindred arts.
Ballets, he observes, have hitherto been the faint sketches only of what they may be one day. An art entirely subversive, as this is, to taste and genius, may receive daily variation and improvements. History, painting, mythology, poetry, all join to raise it from
that obscurity in which it lies buried; and it is truly surprising, that composers have hitherto disdained so many valuable resources.
According to our author, the reason why this art has remained so long in its infancy, is because its effects have been restrained to the transitory ones of fire-works calculated only to please the eye; and it never was supposed to have powers sufficient to speak to the heart: whereas it may vie, he says, with the best dramatic pieces, prove equally interesting, and captivate the spectator by the charms of the most complete illusion.
If ballets, therefore, says he, "are for the most part uninteresting and uniformly dull: if they fail in the characteristic expression which constitutes their essence, the defect does not originate from the art itself, but should be ascribed to the artist. Are then the latter to be told that dancing is an imitative art? I am indeed inclined to think that they know it not, since we daily see the generality of composers sacrifice the beauties of the dance, and give up the graceful naivete of sentiment, to become the servile copyists of a certain number of figures, known and hackneyed for above a century; so that the ballets of Phaeton, or of any ancient opera, revived by a modern composer, would prove so very similar to former ones, that one would think they have undergone no alteration, and are the same in every step.
"Ballet-masters should consult the productions of the most eminent painters. This would bring them nearer to nature, and induce them to avoid, as often as possible, that symmetry of figures, which, by repeating the object, present two different pictures on one and the same canvas.
"Those symmetrical figures from right to left, according to my judgment, are supportable only in the entrées, which are not meant to express any thing in particular, but are only calculated to afford some relief to the principal dancers. They may be introduced in a general dance at the conclusion of an entertainment; they may also be admitted in the pas of four, six, &c. though in my opinion it be ridiculous even in this case to prefer the display of bodily strength and agility to expression and sentiment. But such figures must give way to nature in what we call ballets d'action. An instance, though perhaps not very forcible, may serve to elucidate and support my argument.
"At the sudden and unexpected appearance of some young fauns, a troop of nymphs take themselves to flight with equal affright and precipitation. The former are in pursuit of the latter with that eagerness which the very hope of pleasure can inspire. Now they stop to observe what impression they have made on the nymphs; these at the same time, and for a similar reason, check their career; with fear they survey their pursuers, endeavour to guess at their intentions, and provide for a retreat to some spot where they may rest secure from the dangers that threaten them. Both troops now join, the nymphs resist, defend themselves, and at last effect their escape with no less swiftness than dexterity.
"This I call a busy active scene, in which the dance, as it were, should speak with energy. Here studied and symmetrical figure cannot be introduced, without a manifest violation of the truth, without destroying
destroying the rules of probability, and without weakening the action and lessening the effect.—This scene should be conspicuous; for its beautiful disorder, and the art of the composer, must here be the handmaids of nature.
"A ballet-master, devoid of taste and discernment, will make of this a mechanical piece of dancing, and thus deprive it of the effect it was calculated to produce, for want of entering into the spirit of it. His nymphs and fauns will be arranged upon a parallel line: he will place the former in attitudes awkwardly uniform, and insist on the latter holding up their arms to an even altitude; rather than deviate from the beaten path, and the antique rules of opera-dancing, he will cautiously avoid to have, on the right and left, his nymphs placed in unequal numbers, but will reduce a scene of action, which ought to be supported with spirit, to an exercise equally affected and uninteresting.
"Perhaps some ill-disposed critics, so far strangers to the art as not to judge of it from its various effects, will maintain, that the above scene should present only two different objects, the one portrayed in the love-sick fauns, the other expressed by the affright of the nymphs. But how many shades may serve to embellish those pictures? how varied may be the strokes of the pencil? how opposite the lights? and what a number of tints ought to be employed in order to draw from this twofold situation a multiplicity of images, each more lively and spirited than the other?
"As all men share the same passions, and these differ in proportion to their sensations and feelings, they may therefore be worked upon more or less powerfully in proportion as they manifest themselves outwardly with more or less force and impetuosity. This principle once acknowledged, and nature indeed enforces it daily, it would certainly be more to the purpose to diversify the attitudes and vary the expression; for then the pantomime action of each personage would be divested of a disgusting uniformity. The truth of imitation and the skill of the painter would conspicuously appear in giving a different aspect to the features, some of them expressing a kind of ferocity, others betraying less eagerness, these casting a more tender look; and to the rest, the languishing air of voluptuousness. The sketch of this first picture naturally leads to the composition of the second: here some nymphs appear divided between fear and desire; there some others express by the contrast of their attitudes the various emotions of their soul. Some are more scornful than their companions, whilst others betray a curiosity equal to their fears. This ensemble gives life to the whole picture, and is the more pleasing that it is perfectly consistent with nature. From this exposition, you will not hesitate to agree with me, that symmetry, the offspring of art itself, should never find place in the ballets d'action.
"I shall beg leave to inquire of all those who reason from habitual prejudice, whether they will look for their favourite symmetry in a herd of sheep flying from the wolf, or among wretched peasants leaving their huts and fields, in order to shelter themselves from the fury of a party of enemies? By no means. But the art lies in concealing art itself: my aim is by no means to introduce disorder and confusion;
on the contrary, I will have regularity even in irregularity. What I most insist on is, the introducing of well-concerted groups, situations forcibly expressed, but never beyond nature, and above all, a certain ease in the composition, which betrays not the labour of the composer. As for the figures, they are likely to please only in proportion as they quickly succeed each other, and are devised with equal taste and elegance."
A ballet perfect in all its parts, our author proceeds to observe, is a picture drawn from life, of the manners, dresses, ceremonies, and customs of all nations. It must therefore be a complete pantomime, and through the eyes speak, as it were, to the very soul of the spectator. If it wants expression, if it be deficient in point of situation and scenery, it degenerates into a spectacle equally flat and monotone.
According to Plutarch, a ballet is, if the expression may be allowed, a mute conversation, or a speaking and animated picture, whose language consists of motions, figures, and gestures.—These figures, says our author, are unlimited in their number, because there are a thousand things that the ballet may express. Phrynichus, one of the oldest tragedy writers, says, that he could find in our ballet as many figures as the sea rolls waves in a high winter tide.
A well-composed ballet, therefore, may do without the assistance of words: M. Noverre even remarks that these only serve to weaken the action, and partly destroy its effects. He has no opinion of a pantomime which, in order to be understood, must borrow the help of a verbal explanation. "Any ballet whatever (says he) destitute of intrigue, action, and interest, displaying nothing more than the mechanical beauties of the art, and though decorated with a pompous title, unintelligible throughout, is not unlike those portraits and pictures to which the painters of old subscribed the names of the personages and actions they meant to represent: because they were imperfect in point of imitation, the situations weakly expressed, the outlines incorrect, and the colours unseemly.
"When dancers shall feel, and Proteus-like, transform themselves into various shapes to express to the life the conflict of passions; when their features, their very looks, shall speak their inward feelings; when extending their arms beyond the narrow circle prescribed by the rigid rules of pedantry, and with equal grace and judgment giving them a fuller scope, they shall by proper situations describe the gradual and successive progress of the passions; when, in fine, they call good sense and genius to the assistance of their art; then they may expect to distinguish themselves: explanatory speeches will become useless; a mute but powerful eloquence will be substituted to much better effect; each motion will be a sentence; every attitude will portray a situation; each gesture convey a thought, and each glance a new sentiment: every part will please, because the whole will be a true and faithful imitation of nature.
A ballet, in whatever style it may be, should, according to Aristotle, be composed, as well as poetry, of two different parts, which he calls parts of quality and parts of quantity. Nothing exists in nature without matter, form, and figure: the ballet therefore becomes a mere nonentity, if it be deficient in any of
those essential parts which mark and constitute the being of any one thing animate or inanimate. The matter here is the subject intended for representation; its form consists in the ingenious distribution of the plan; and the various compounding parts constitute its figure. Form therefore contains the parts of quality, and the extent the parts of quantity.
Thus it appears, that ballets are in some degree subject to the rules of poetical composition. They, nevertheless, differ from tragedies and comedies, in that the former are not subject to the three unities of time, place, and action: Yet they require an unity of plot, in order that the various scenes may meet and end on the same point.—The ballet, therefore, may be termed the brother of the drama, though not restrained to its stricter rules, which only serve to cramp the imagination, check its flight, and confine genius; and if adhered to, must set aside all thoughts of composition of ballets, by depriving them of their chief ornament, pleasing variety.
M. Noverre considers tragedy as the subject most suitable for the art of dancing. The former abounds in noble incidents, situations, &c. and these produce the best stage effects. Besides, the passions are more forcibly expressed by great characters than by common men: the imitation is of course less difficult, the action in the pantomime more significant, natural, and intelligible.
"The business of a skilful master (he observes), is to foresee, as it were at one glance, the general effect that may result from the ensemble, and never give the preference to one single part over the whole. The only way for him to bestow his thoughts on the greatest number, is to forget for a while the principal characters of the drama; if his whole attention should entirely be taken up with the parts of his first dancers of both sexes, the action is suspended, the scenes are slow in their progress, and the whole performance must fall short of its desired effect.
"In the tragedy of Merope by Voltaire, the principal characters are Merope, Polifonte, Egiste, and Narbas: But although the parts of the inferior actors are not of equal importance, yet they all concur to the general action, and to the progression of the drama, which would appear deficient in some parts, should either of those characters be wanting in the representation. No useless personage should be obtruded on the stage. Every thing therefore that may tend to weaken the effect of the drama ought to be carefully avoided, and only that number of actors introduced which is barely requisite for the execution of the performance.
"A ballet is a production of the same kind. It must be divided into acts and scenes, each of which, as well as the act itself, must have its beginning, its middle, and its end; that is, in other words, exposition, plot, and denouement.
"I have observed above, that the principal performers in a ballet should be forgotten for a while: My reason is, that, in my opinion, it is easier to give striking parts to Hercules and Omphale, Ariadne and Bacchus, Ajax and Ulysses, &c. than to 24 persons in their retinue. If these have nothing to say, they are superfluous, and of course ought to be rejected; but if they are to speak, let their conversa-
tion be consonant with that of the principal characters.
"The difficulty, therefore, does not lie in assigning a primary and distinctive part to Ajax or Ulysses; since it springs naturally from the importance of their situation in the play; but in introducing the figures in a becoming style, giving them parts of more or less importance, connected with the action of the two heroes; in introducing women, some of whom will appear concerned for Ajax, and the greater number showing their partiality for Ulysses. The triumph of the latter, the former's death, present to the man of genius a series of images that vie with each other in point of interesting and picturesque situations. These, by means of a colouring skilfully contrasted, cannot but produce the most lively sensations. In fine, a ballet pantomime should be dramatic in all its parts; and the figure-dancers, who succeed to the principal performers, ought to continue the scene, not by a number of symmetrical figures and studied steps, but by that kind of animated expression which keeps up the attention of the spectators to the main subject for which the preceding actors have prepared the audience.
"Yet, either through ignorance, or in consequence of a vitiated habit, there are but few well supported ballets. Dance is introduced for the mere purpose of dancing; the end is supposed to be answered by the mechanical motions of the feet, or by high jumping, and that the idea which people of real taste may have of a ballet is fully answered, when inactive performers are introduced in it, who mix and jostle each other, presenting a confused heap of pictures, sketched without taste, awkwardly grouped, and totally devoid of that harmony and expression, the offspring of the soul, which alone can embellish art by giving it life."
M. Noverre, in considering the knowledge necessary for attaining perfection in the present art, observes, that mythology, ancient poetry, and chronology, ought to be the primary study of a ballet-master, who ought also to possess a genius for poetry and painting, since the art borrows all its charms from a perfect imitation of nature.
A slight knowledge of geometry cannot but prove very advantageous, as it will help the master to introduce his figures in due proportion, to calculate exactly, and execute with precision. By means of that unerring guide, he will retrench every superfluous accessory, and thus enliven the performance. Taste will introduce elegance, genius create variety, and judgment direct the whole.
What is a ballet but a piece of more or less complicated machinery, which strikes or surprises the beholder by its various effects, only in proportion as those are diversified and sudden. That chain and connection of figures, those motions succeeding each other with rapidity, those various forms turning contrary ways, that mixture of different incidents, the ensemble and harmony which mark the steps and accompany the exertions of the dancers; do not all these give you the idea of a mechanism most ingeniously contrived?
Ballets are often built on preternatural subjects; several of them require the assistance of machinery. For instance, few of the subjects taken from Ovid will be
be fit for representation, without a change of scenery, flights through the air, metamorphoses, &c. This author, therefore, must never be taken for a model, unless the ballet-master himself be an expert mechanist. None are to be found out of the capital, but journeymen and stage-sweepers, whom the patronage of some mighty son of the lock has preferred by degrees to that employment. The talents of those upstarts consist in, and reach not beyond, the capacity of putting up the lights which they were wont to snuff for many years, or letting down awkwardly a glory of the most wretched style. The theatres in Italy are not remarkable for their machinery; those of Germany, built upon the same plan, are not less deficient in point of that enchanting part of stage-exhibition; so that a ballet-master must, in these countries, find himself greatly embarrassed, if, unskilled in the mechanical arts, he cannot convey his ideas with perspicuity, by building for that purpose small models, which are better understood by the generality of workmen than the clearest verbal explanation.
The theatres of Paris and London are the best supplied with these resources. The English are very ingenious; their stage machinery is more simplified than the French, and of course produces a quicker effect. Among them all these kinds of works are most exquisitely finished; that neatness, care, and exactitude, which are remarkable throughout every part, greatly contribute to the precision of the whole. Those chefs-d'œuvres of mechanism particularly display themselves in their pantomimes; which, however, are low and trivial, devoid of taste and interest, and built upon the meanest incidents. It may be said that this kind of entertainment, which is got up at a prodigious expense, is only calculated to please those eyes which are shocked at nothing; and that it would meet with no success on the French theatres, where no other pleasantry is permitted but such as is not incompatible with decency, abounds with delicacy and wit, and is nowise levelled against morals and humanity.
A composer who wishes to rise superior to the generality of ballet-masters, should study the painters, and trace them in their various manners of drawing and composing. Both arts have the same object in view, whether it be for taking likenesses, mixing the colours and preserving the clear-obscure; or for grouping the figures properly, laying on the draperies, throwing the former into elegant attitudes, and giving them life and expression.
Upon the same principle, the knowledge of anatomy will serve to render more clear and intelligible the precepts which he has to lay down for his pupils. It will be an easy matter for him to distinguish properly between the natural and habitual defects in their conformation. These are the greatest obstacles that so often impede the progress of young beginners. Thus once knowing the cause, he will be able to remedy the evil; as his lessons and precepts will then be the result of strict attention, they never can fail of becoming profitable.
Drawing is too useful in the composition of ballets for the master not to pay a serious attention to that art; it will contribute to the beauty of the forms; will give to the figures an air of novelty and elegance, animate
the groups, throw the body into graceful positions, and show the attitudes in a just precision.
A ballet-master who is no proficient in music, will make a bad choice of his airs. He will not enter into the spirit or character of them. The motions of his dancers will not beat time with that precision and delicacy which are absolutely necessary, unless he is endowed with that sensibility of organ which is more commonly the gift of nature than the result of art, and is far above what may be acquired by long practice and steady application.
A good choice of music is as essential to dancing, as the choice of words and the phrasing of a speech is to eloquence. It is the tune and time of the music that fix and determine the motion of the dancers. If the former be uniform and devoid of taste, the ballet will, like its model, be dull and unmeaning.
By this immediate connection between music and dancing, it clearly appears that, from a practical knowledge of the former, the ballet-master will derive the greatest advantages. He will then be able to impart his thoughts to the composer; and if taste and knowledge combine together, he will either set the music himself, or at least furnish the composer with the principal outlines, to characterise the action of the dancer; as this will be varied and expressive, the ballet cannot fail of being equally so. Music well composed should paint and speak; and the dance set to those sounds, will be, as it were, the echo to repeat the words. If, on the contrary, it be mute, if it speak not to the ear of the dancer, then all sentiment and expression are banished from the performance.
As nothing can appear trifling to the man of genius, nothing should seem so to the ballet-master. It is impossible for him to distinguish himself in his profession, unless he applies to study those arts which have been just mentioned. Yet to insist that he should be master of them all in that degree of perfection which is attainable only by those who give themselves entirely up to the study of each of them in particular, would be requiring a mere impossibility.
All that can be deemed strictly requisite, therefore, is a general knowledge, a slight tincture of those sciences which, by the connection they have with each other, are likely to contribute to the improvement of the art and to its reputation. From the natural union, however, that subsists between the arts, and from the harmony which reigns amongst them, that ballet-master will ennoble his composition with the most fire, spirit, liveliness, and interest, who has most genius and imagination, and whose knowledge is most extensive.
As to performers and their personal qualifications: The first point to which it is directed to pay attention when one takes up the profession of a dancer (at least so soon as he becomes capable of reflection), is his bodily formation: If one is conscious of any natural defect which seems irremediable by art, it will be best immediately to renounce every idea that may have been formed of the advantage arising from popular approbation. But where personal defects can be reformed by application, study, or the advice and assistance of judicious masters, then it becomes an essential concern
Dance. quickly to exert every effort, before the parts to be corrected have acquired strength and consistence, before nature has unalterably taken her bent, and the error becomes too habitual and inveterate.
Among other personal defects, there are two which deserve particular notice: The first is that of being jarreté, "knock-knee'd"; the other of being arqué, or "bow-legged."
A man is said to be jarreté or knock-knee'd when the haunches are strait, and inclining inwardly, the thighs lie near, and the knees are protuberant, and so close that they touch and knock together at every step, even when the feet are at a distance; so that such a person, from the knees to the feet, makes the figure of a triangle. In people of this formation, likewise, there is a clumsiness in the inside of the ankle, a great elevation in the instep, while the tendo Achillis is not only very slender, but much extended in the articulation.
The other defect of being arqué or bow-legged, is the opposite of the former, and exists in the same parts, namely, from the haunches to the feet, which describe a sort of bow or arch; for the haunches being in this case hollow, the thighs and knees stand open, and at a distance, so that they can never be brought in proper contact like those of a well-shaped person; their feet also are long and flat, the ankle juts out, and the tendo Achillis is large and closely inserted. A single view of these diametrically opposite effects, proves more forcibly than any arguments, that the instructions which might correct the errors of one of this sort of dancers, would tend only to increase the defects of the other; and that consequently their aim and study ought to be correspondingly opposite.
The dancer whose defect is of the first kind, that of being jarreté, must use the means which art furnishes him with, to separate and widen the too closely connected parts. The first step to this end is to turn the thighs outwardly, endeavouring to move them in that position, by taking the advantage of the free rotation which the thigh bone has in the cotyloidal cavity of the haunches: assisted by this exercise, the knees will follow the same direction, and return, as it were, to their proper position. The knee-pan (which seems intended to prevent the knee from being thrown too far backward from its insertion) will stand perpendicular over the point of the foot, while the thigh and leg thus placed describe a line that will ensure firmness and stability to the whole body.
The second remedy to be used is, to keep the knees in a constant bend, and to make them appear very much stretched, without their being really so. This must be the result of long and constant practice; but when the habit is firmly contracted, it is impossible to return to the former vicious position, without causing an insupportable pain and numbness. Some dancers have been able to conceal this defect so artfully, that it was entirely undiscoverable, unless in dancing strait-capers or in very quick movements. The reason of its becoming visible at such times is, that the contraction of the muscles in the effort of leaping makes them stiff about the articulation, and forces every part into its former and natural situation; the knees thus strained, turn inwardly, and (for the time) regain their usual protuberance, which becomes an obstacle to the display
of the entre-chat. The more these parts connect, to the greater distance will the lower extremities be thrown; hence the legs, neither being able to beat nor cross, remain motionless at the time of the knees rolling over each other, while the entre-chat, being neither cut, beat, nor crossed by the feet, is deprived of that life and brilliancy which are its chief merit.
A person thus formed, should entirely renounce the entre-chat, cabriolets, and every kind of dance that requires very quick and complicated movements, as it will infallibly render him weak and powerless; for the haunches being so strait, the muscles that are attached to them (whereon the motions of the trunk depend), have not a proper and easy play, which will be always in proportion to the dimension of these bones, because then the muscle shoots out or divide from a point more distant from the centre of gravity: therefore the grander sort of dancing, and terre à terre, is the best adapted to such dancers; and we may add, that whatever they lose on the score of strength, they regain in elegance and address. They are luxuriant and shining in the simplest parts; easy even in difficult ones, where no great efforts are required; just in their execution; elegant in their display; and their spring is always exerted with an infinity of grace, as they dexterously employ every resource which the motion of the instep can give them. These are advantages which atone for want of personal strength; and in dancing agility and address are always preferable to the mere efforts of force.
The art of concealing or overcoming the defects of such performers as we have characterized by being arqué, or bow-legged, is in a great measure the opposite of the former; namely, by endeavouring to bring together the parts that are too much separated, and lessening that vacancy which is particularly observable between the knees. These require no less exercise than the former in turning the thighs outwardly, and generally are less able to disguise their faults: for being more robust and vigorous, there is less pliability in their muscles, and their joints move less easily. And it must be added, if the deformity results from a natural distortion of the bone, labour will be as useless as all the aids of art will be impotent.
It was remarked, that dancers of the first class, or jarretés, should preserve a slight genuflexion or bend in their performance; while these, for the opposite reason, ought to keep their limbs rather extended or stretched, and to cross more closely, by that means diminishing the vacancy occasioned by the natural separation. Such dancers are nervous, lively, and brilliant in all cases which require more strength than elegance; vigour and agility may be inferred from their muscular force, and the firmness and resistance of their articular ligaments; lively in their dancing, because they cross low rather than high; and requiring on that account less space in beating time, they perform it with more liveliness: they display more brilliancy, because the light becomes visible between the limbs at the moment of crossing and recrossing; and this is precisely the clair-obscur of dancing; for if the time in the entre-chat or cross-caper is neither cut nor beat, but rolled or huddled over, there is no light to give distinction to the shadows, and the limbs so closely joined, present an indistinct and effectless mass.
These dancers have less address than the others, as they generally depend on their strength; and indeed that strength is a constant obstacle to ease and pliancy; if it forsakes them a single moment, they appear awkward and ridiculous: nor can they conceal their situation by any trifling display; that requiring mere address, would give them time to recover, which their want of natural elasticity otherwise prevents.
Dancers who are jarretés, are weak, slender, and delicate; the others, strong and vigorous, large made, and nervous. It is a common opinion, that stout, squat-built men are heavy and sluggish; which they doubtless are in respect of bodily weight; but the notion is erroneous so far as regards dancing; for activity owes its very existence to muscular strength, and every man who has not a requisite share of that will always fall heavy. The reason is evident; the weak parts, in the instant of falling, not being able to resist the stronger (that is, the weight of the body, which acquires a momentum in proportion to the height it falls or descends from), yield and bend; and it is at the moment of relaxation or flexion that the noise of the fall is heard; a circumstance greatly lessened, or rather entirely avoided, when the body is able to maintain itself in a perpendicular direction; and while the muscular spring is sufficient to oppose that descending force, and vigorously resist a shock which would otherwise destroy it.
Nature has not exempted the fair sex from those imperfections we have been taking notice of; but art, and the use of petticoats, come fortunately to the help of the female dancer. The hoop conceals a multitude of defects, which the critic's curious eye cannot ascend to discover. Most of them dance with their knees open, as if they were naturally argues; but, thanks to this bad habit, and to the petticoats, they appear more brilliant than the men; because, as they beat from the lower part of the leg, they perform the time quicker than we, who, concealing nothing from the spectator, are obliged to beat at a greater extent, and to do it originally from the haunch.
The vivacity of the sex contributes much to the brilliancy of their execution: though certainly not less is owing to the petticoats, which, by concealing the length of the limbs, catch the attention, and fix it more advantageously: thus all the fire of the beats being united in one point, appears more lively and brilliant; while the eye embraces one object only, without being hurried and confused in proportion to the space it has to overlook.
To perfection in dancing, M. Noverre observes, nothing is more necessary than the outward turn of the thigh; yet nothing is more natural to mankind than the contrary position; it is born with us. It will be superfluous, in establishing this truth, to cite for example the Asiatics, the Africans, or any people who dance, or rather leap and move, without art or principle. If we attend only to children, or the rustic inhabitants of the villages, we shall see that they all turn their feet inwardly. The other position is purely invention; and a proof, far from equivocal, of this fault being an imaginary one, is, that a painter would transgress as much against nature as the rules of his art, were he to place the feet of his portrait in the situation of a dancer's. It is plain, then, that to dance
elegantly, walk gracefully, or address ourselves with ease and manliness, we must absolutely reverse the nature of things; and force our limbs, by artificial applications equally tedious and painful, to assume a very different situation from what they originally received.
Such a change, however necessary in this art, can only be accomplished by laying its foundation in the earliest stages of infancy, when every bone and muscle are in a state of pliability, and capable of receiving any direction which we choose to give them.
The difficulty of attaining the outward position of the limbs, is owing to our ignorance of the proper arts to be employed. Most beginners persuade themselves that it is to be acquired by forcing the feet to turn outward: and though this part may readily take such a direction, from their suppleness, and being so easily moved at their articulation with the leg; yet this method is so far false, as it tends to displace the ancle-bones, and besides has not any effect upon either the knees or thighs.
Neither is it possible to throw the knees outwardly without the assistance of the thigh. The knees have only two motions, bending and extension; the one drawing the leg backward, the other throwing it forward: they have no power, therefore, of themselves to determine or assume an outward position; but must eventually depend on the thigh, which entirely commands all the lower part of the body, and turns them in consequence of its own rotatory motion; so that, in fact, whatever motion or position that takes, the knee, foot, and leg, are obliged to follow.
M. Noverre condemns the tourne-haunch as a clumsy and useless invention, which, instead of producing any good effect, serves only to lame those who use it, by giving a distortion to the waist, much more disagreeable than what it was intended to remove.
The simplest and most natural means are those which reason and good sense ought to adopt; and of these a moderate but continual exercise is indispensable: the practice of a circular motion or turning of the legs, both inwardly and outwardly, and of boldly beating at full extent from the haunch, is the only certain exercise to be preferred. It insensibly gives freedom, spring and pliancy; while the motions acquired by using the machine have more an air of constraint, than of that liberty and ease which should shine conspicuous in them.
It has been maintained, that a strong and vigorous person ought to spring higher and better than a slender or weaker man. But experience (says M. Noverre) daily proves the contrary. We see many dancers, who cut the time very strong, who beat with much vigour and firmness, and yet cannot spring to any considerable perpendicular elevation: for an oblique elevation, or on one side, ought here to be distinguished from the former; the latter is faint, and depends entirely upon address in the dancer. There are others, again, whose slender form renders their execution less bold, and rather elegant than forcible, rather lively than nervous, but who can rise to an extraordinary height: it is to the shape and formation of the foot, and to the length and elasticity of the tendon, that this power of elevation is originally owing; the knees, the loins, and the arms, all co-operate in this action; the stronger the pressure upon the muscles, the greater is the reaction, and the spring
Dance. spring or leap is proportionably high. The alternate motion of the knees participates with those of the instep and tendo Achilles, though the latter are still the most essential auxiliaries; the muscles of the trunk lend their assistance, and preserve the body in a perpendicular direction; while the arms, running imperceptibly to the mutual assistance of all the parts, serve as wings to counterbalance the machine.
Observe all those animals that have long and slender ancles, as flags, roebucks, sheep, cats, monkeys, &c. and you will perceive that they have a quickness and facility of springing and leaping, which animals differently formed in that part can never obtain.
But were a man endowed with all the other qualities essential to the perfection of the art, yet still without strength and firmness in his loins he never can be a good dancer. This strength is certainly the gift of nature; but it may be much improved by the assiduity of an able teacher. We daily see dancers who have neither perpendicularity nor firmness, and whose performance is altogether unstable and irregular; and we likewise see others, who, though they possess not so great a degree of native force, have all the appearance of sinewy firmness and muscular strength in their haunches, back, and loins. Art has furnished a substitute for nature, in the lessons of some excellent teacher, who has convinced them, that when once they forego an attention to the loins, it is impossible to keep themselves in a right perpendicular line; and therefore all their exertions will be devoid of taste: that all wavering and instability in this part is inconsistent with perpendicularity and firmness, and will certainly cause distortion of the shape and waist: that the depression and sinking of the body deprives the lower parts of that liberty which is necessary to their easy motion: that hence the body is undetermined in its positions; frequently drags the limbs, and constantly loses the centre of gravity; and therefore cannot recover an equilibrium, but after various efforts and contortions totally repugnant to the graceful and harmonious motions of good dancing.
Such is the performance of those dancers who have no strength in their loins, or at least do not exert what they possess. In order to dance well, the body should be firm and steady: it should particularly be motionless and free from wavering while the legs are in exertion; for when the body follows the action of the feet, it displays as many grimaces and distortions as the legs execute different steps; the performance is then robbed of its ease, uniformity, harmony, exactness, firmness, perpendicularity, and equilibrium; in a word, of all those beauties and graces which are so essential to make dancing give pleasure and delight.
Many dancers are of opinion, that to be soft and luxuriant, the knees must be bent very low. But in this they are most certainly mistaken; for a more than ordinary flexion of the knees gives rather a dryness and insipidity to dancing; and a dancer may be very inelegant, and jerk, as it were, all his movements, as well in bending very low as in not bending at all. The reason will appear natural and evident, when we reflect, that the time and motions of the dancer are strictly subordinate to the time and movements of the music; pursuing this principle, it is not to be doubted, that when the flexion of the knees is greater than what the
air or time of the dance requires, the measure then draws along, languishes, and is lost. To recover and catch again the time which this unnecessary flexion had destroyed, the extension of the knee must be equally quick; and it is this sudden transition which gives such a harshness and sterility to the execution, and renders it as disgusting as the opposite fault of stiffness and inflexibility.
That luxuriant softness requires more to its perfection than merely an exact flexion and extension of the knees; the spring of the instep must add its assistance, while the loins must balance the body to preserve these springs in proper bounds. It is this rare harmony of motion (says M. Noverre) which has procured the celebrated Dupré the glorious title of the God of Dance.
There are many dancers, and of an inferior class only, who can display a great variety of steps, badly enough chosen to be sure, and often displayed without either judgment or taste; but it is very uncommon to find among them that exactness of ear (that rare but innate talent of a dancer), which gives life to and stamps a value upon steps, and which diffuses over all their motions a spirit that animates and enlivens them.
There are some ears stupid and insensible even to the most simple, plain, and striking movements; there are others, more cultivated or refined, that can feel and comprehend the measure, but cannot seize its intricacies; and there are others again to whom the most difficult airs and movements are easy and intelligible, and at once comprehended. It is nevertheless certain, that a dancer may have a very perfect and nice feeling, and yet not make his feeling intelligible to the audience, if he has not the art of commanding those resources which depend upon a proper exertion of the coup de pied: awkwardness becomes visible where the exactest proportion was necessary; and every step which would have been becoming, and produced the happiest effect, had it been smartly introduced at the conclusion of the measure, will now be cold and lifeless, if all the limbs are in motion at once. It requires more time to move the whole body than to exert any single member; the flexion and extension of the instep is more readily and quickly made than the reciprocal motion of all the joints. This principle allowed, that the dancer is destitute of precision, who (supposing he possesses a musical ear) knows not how to time his steps; the elasticity of the instep, and the more or less active play of the muscles, add to the natural sensibility of the ear, and stamp value and brilliancy on the dance. The joint charms of the harmony springing from the movements of the music, and the motions of the dancer, captivate even those whose ears are the most insensible and least susceptible of musical impression.
There are some countries where the inhabitants in general are endowed with this innate musical taste. The Palatinate, Wirtemberg, Saxony, Brandenburg, Austria, and Bohemia, supply the orchestras of the German princes with many excellent musicians and eminent composers. The Germans, indeed, are born with a very lively and just taste for music, and have in them the seeds of true harmony; nothing is more common than to hear concerts, both in the streets and in the shops of their mechanics, performed with the greatest skill and exactness.
Such a natural and native taste for music as we have been
been mentioning, is usually accompanied by, or includes in it, a similar one for dancing; they are kindred arts; the tender and harmonious accents of the one excite and produce the agreeable and expressive motions of the other, and their union entertains the eye and ear with animated pictures of sentiments; these two senses again convey to the heart the interesting images which affect them, while the heart, in its turn, communicates them to the mental faculty: thus the pleasure resulting from the harmony and intelligence of these two arts, enchants the spectator, and fills him with the most seducing pleasures of voluptuousness.
Dancing is probably nowhere varied to such a degree as in the provinces of Germany; where the well known dances of one village are strangers in the adjacent hamlet; their songs of mirth and merriment have no less different airs and movements, though they are all marked with that of gaiety. Their dances are pleasing and engaging, because the offspring of simple nature; their motions express joy and pleasure; and the exactness with which the whole is performed, gives a peculiar agreeableness to their steps, gestures, and attitudes. Do they spring?—a hundred persons, assembled round an oak, or some ancient pillar, seize the time at one instant, bound up and descend with the same exactness. Do they wish to mark the measure by a coup-de-pied?—all strike with one consent; or when they catch up their women, you see them all in the air at an equal height, nor do they descend but at the precise note that marks the time.
The counter-point, which is doubtless the touchstone of a delicate ear, is to them an object of no difficulty; hence their dance is so particularly animated, and the nicety of that organ has the effect of giving their different motions an air of gaiety and variety altogether exquisite.
A dancer whose ear is untuned to harmony, displays his steps without order or regularity, wanders from his part, and pursues the measure without being able to reach it: devoid of judgment, his dancing has neither sentiment nor expression; and the music which should direct his motions, regulate his steps, and guide his time, serves only to expose his imperfections and insufficiency. The study of music should therefore be applied to for the purpose of obviating this defect, and giving more sensibility and exactness to the organs of hearing.
It will not be expected that we should proceed to give a description of all the intricacies and combinations of steps that are or can be exerted in dancing; or enlarge on the mechanical particulars of the art. A dissertation on the latter would be insipid and disgusting; for the language of the feet and limbs is addressed to the eyes, not to the ears: and a detail of the former would be endless, since every dancer has his peculiar manner of joining or varying the time. It may be sufficient just to mention on this point, that it is in dancing as in music, and with dancers as with musicians: dancing does not abound with more fundamental steps than music with notes; but there are octaves, breves, semibreves, minims, crotchets, double and treble crotchets; times to count and measures to follow. This mixture, however, of a small number of steps, and a few notes, furnishes dancers with a mul-
titude of connexions and a variety of figures; taste and genius will always find a source of novelty in arranging them in different manners, and to express various ideas. Slow and lengthened, or quick and precipitate steps, and the time correspondingly varied, give birth to this endless diversity.
Country-DANCE. See COUNTRY-Dance.
Country-Dance, commonly so written, and hence seeming to imply a rustic way of dancing borrowed from country people or peasants, is by others supposed to be a corruption of the French Contre-danse, where a number of persons placing themselves opposite one to another begin a figure.