|LE CARNAVAL," the second of the dance poems which have inspired Miss
Pamela Colman Smith, is equally romantic, but not in the pensive,
twilight manner of "Les Sylphides," with its vague suggestion
of mysterious grief. Everything in "Carnaval" is joyous and
_insouciant_--except perhaps poor Bolm as Pierrot, the unhappy dupe of
Nijinsky-Arlecchino's teasing pranks. Bakst's scene, with its plain blue
curtains and two absurd uncomfortable Victorian sofas, prepares us
for the Russian interpretation of Schumann's music, before the peg-top
trousered and crinolined _corps de ballet_ have made their appearance.
[Illustration: 0048]
Until I saw "Le Carnaval," although I had realized that the art of the
Russians was not narrow or local, and that they could dance in several
languages, I fear I had not credited them with humor. The true comic
spirit (which makes us smile, not laugh in the manner so offensive to
Mr. Bernard Shaw) rules this delicious episode, which is a setting
of Schumann's music in the way that music can be a setting of words,
completing their message and intensifying their significance.
For the first time I will use the word "acting" in connection with the
Russian ballet. The comedy in "Le Carnaval" is of a very high order.
The story is interpreted more through genuine pantomime than through
dancing, which perhaps accounts for the popularity of this particular
ballet with us English, who still understand the nature of good acting
better than the nature of good dancing, although we are at the present
time much attracted by dancing. A real note of freakish farce is in this
"Carnaval." The dancing itself is freakish. It is the simplest, silliest
thing! A bit of fun--yet to give us this bit of fun what serious work
was needed! The grave young Nijinsky is transformed into a mischievous
child!
[Illustration: 0050]