CHAPTER XIV_The Dance: Its Place in Art and Life

A LAYMAN’S ESTIMATE OF CONDITIONS

That great dancing is a useful and desirable addition to human happiness

needs no argument. Its power to delight the vision and expand the

imagination; its value as an example and incentive to an exercise

unsurpassed as an ally of health--these and other virtues are obvious.

More completely, perhaps, than any of its tributary arts, dancing has

the power to impart that indefinable mental well-being that great art

aims to give its auditor or spectator. As music is refreshment for one,

pictures for another, so the contemplation of dancing is the means of

ordering and energising the mind of a third. We of the United States are

a beauty-loving people in the main, and almost unanimously attuned to

the message of action--so long as we understand its meaning. Once really

established among such a people, dancing would take a position of

importance second to no other source of national inspiration. In the

meantime, there are unorganised cohorts of us to whom good dancing, like

good reading, is something of a necessity; and we should like to know

what we have a right to expect from the near future.

“The public gets what it wants,” is the sophisticated comment almost

invariably drawn forth by any discussion along these lines. Which

comment exposes its own superficiality; the suggestion of the existence

of any one public, in relation to the arts, is absurd. Patronising

dancing there appear, at the very first glance, two publics as widely

separated as inhabitants of different planets; each public possessed of

appreciations inconceivable to the other, and even contemptible. These

are the public that applauds the buxom laziness which substitutes for

dancing in the so-called “amusement” known as burlesque, as

distinguished from the public that responds to the pure beauty of opera

ballet or well-performed ballet pantomime.

Between these two extremes is an intermediate public that is the more or

less innocent cause of endless confusion, and whose good nature is an

obstacle to the betterment of standards. In the theatre, even when the

chaff outweighs the wheat, it applauds everything. The next day Mr. and

Mrs. Intermediate Public advise their friends that the production is

stupid. Decreasing attendance may warn the manager that something is

lacking: but what? As a criticism, absence is not very illuminating.

Acts are changed, cablegrams written and lines rewritten, this man

discharged, a woman rushed over from Paris. And when all is said and

done, the performance perhaps continues to emphasise features that were

the cause of bad impressions. For this confusion, the audiences are at

least equally to blame with the manager. They owe it to themselves as

well as to others to express themselves frankly.

Exactly what grade of dancing this intermediate public really wants is

an unsettled question--and one of paramount importance, since it

involves a good part of the potential support of good things. Managers

infer, each according to his own disposition; and there is rarely

material for the formation of inferences in any way exact. For one

reason or another, no undertaking serves the purpose of exact

experiment; experience does not lead to any unavoidable conclusion. A

few wholly good ballet productions have been given in the Untied States

during the past few years; they have not been tremendously successful,

up to the present, from the point of view of profits. The optimist,

however, counts even small profits a success, in the circumstances. Here

is an art that employs a language practically unknown to this country;

yet it has not failed to impress. But the men who risked the money take

another view of it. They consider that they have had a narrow escape

from disaster, that the profits are not commensurate with the risks, and

that they are well out of a bad affair. Augustin Daly, at the time of

his death, was engaged in a course of instructing the public in the

appreciation of pantomime, expecting to lose money on it for two or

three consecutive years. But the present moment reveals no Augustin Daly

among the potential managers of dancing in America. Few are willing to

plant seed for a harvest long deferred. And in justice be it added that

the equipment and maintenance of _Pygmalion and Galatea_ or _L’Enfant

Prodigue_, the vehicles of Mr. Daly’s missionary efforts in the

interests of pantomime, would be a small fraction of the expenses

attaching to a first-class production of any of the great mimetic

ballets.

The situation is, in all essentials, the same as that through which

operatic and orchestral music passed a few years ago. Music lovers put

their favoured art on a substantial basis by means of endowments. Any

other course in relation to the ballet results in a matter of

probabilities and possibilities, but not of certainties. The present

interest in dancing, left to itself, may lead to great things. Or it

may lead to nothing at all. The renaissance of interest that followed

the Kiralfy successes in the sixties and seventies was killed by

counterfeits. The same hostile possibilities exist at present.

The above-indicated dependence of the dance on its ability to show

immediate profits is only the first of its handicaps. That difficulty

would not be light, even though every manager viewed conditions clearly

and fairly, as some of them do. Unfortunately, however, there is in the

profession a class that has succeeded because of, or in spite of, a

belief that good taste does not exist in America. To prove this, they

shape every occurrence into an argument. In gathering “names” for the

interest of their advertising, they engage a certain number of capable

artists. If the productions employing these artists succeed, the cynical

manager will construe such success as proof of American worship of

reputation, and its power to blind him to a mess of accompanying

mediocrity. If, on the contrary, failure attend the enterprise, it

proves American inability to appreciate good work. For the success of a

really good work of art, these pessimists will find any explanation

except that of good work duly appreciated. Skilful publicity, novelty, a

public affectation of good taste, the employment of Oriental motifs, any

theory, so long as it acknowledges no taste superior to their own. These

are the people who, if Madame Pavlowa’s present tour, for instance,

makes a striking financial success, will inundate the country with

pseudo-Russian ballets, perverting everything, unable to see the need of

beauty and artistry, bringing all dancing into disrepute.

Let it be clearly understood: these people by no means represent the

manager’s profession. But they are to an extent in control of the

situation, and the person who wants to see dancing is more or less

dependent on them as the source of supply. In the absence of any endowed

institution, no ballet can be seen except under commercial

management--and, as noted, commercial management that cannot or will not

knowingly invest in an enterprise that is going to require time to be

understood.

The manager desirous of staging a work of genuine choreographic quality

finds himself confronted by a discouraging scarcity of even

semicompetent material for his ballet--that is, here in America. To

bring a _corps de ballet_ from Europe, with guarantees covering a

minimum number of weeks of work, transportation both ways, and other

proper and just requirements, is commercially dangerous. No reasonable

blame can be attached to the usual course of engaging such girls as are

easily available, fitting steps to their limitations, insisting on the

girls and evading the dance, and making much of draperies and coloured

lights.

As a direct result of the scarcity of capable ballet people,

dance-lovers not infrequently lose the services of a rare artist. No one

artist can give a satisfying two-hour public performance of dancing.

Saying nothing of variety as a _desideratum_ in a programme, the

question of physical endurance enters. To rest the _première_ between

her flights, a _corps de ballet_ is indispensable. Without the latter,

the former is to be compared to a commander without an army. But the

particular case illustrates, where general statement only explains.

On the face of things, Miss Lydia Lopoukowa’s determination to take up

residence in the United States would seem to mean that American

dance-lovers might count on her art as a definite acquisition. After

her season with Mordkin, the young woman accepted a position as

_première_ of a ballet, as good as can be made from native material. A

_divertissement_ is composed that pleases public and management, and all

concerned except the _première_ herself. She finds her work

circumscribed by the necessity of keeping down to a pitch beyond which

the support cannot rise. That the public is pleased is not sufficient;

with unrestricted self-expression, and freedom of flight, she could

bring that public to a point of enthusiasm. Her art is belittled, and

she finds herself in a false position. As soon as contracts permit, she

withdraws her energies from the effort to accomplish good in that

direction. So, for the lack of a competent ballet, the dance-loving

portion of the population is robbed. As to Miss Lopoukowa, she has a

taste for and demonstrated ability in the drama. Dancing will give her

extraordinary distinction in plays that admit its union with the

dramatic action. But under better conditions, her dancing need not have

been subordinated to another art.

At this point a question might justly be raised as to whether the

interests of the ballet are not being adequately cared for by some of

the great opera companies. To such possible question the only answer is

negative. Nor are the companies chargeable with any neglect or

shortcoming in not giving their ballet departments the relative

importance of ballet in European opera organisations. The task of

popularising great music alone has been somewhat more than a labour of

Hercules. Opera as music now has a supporting patronage; to change the

ballet’s relative importance would be disturbing, in all probability.

Moreover, the Metropolitan (if not the others) has done all that is

humanly possible under present conditions, with the principal result of

demonstrating that those conditions are to be met by a ballet

institution, and nothing less.

At the time of the Metropolitan’s organisation, it will be remembered,

the world’s interest in ballet dancing was at a lower pitch than it ever

had been since the dissolution of the Roman Empire; that is, about the

middle of the Victorian period. Had the undertaking been no more than

that of producing opera in a land already friendly to it, it would have

been no more than natural if the Metropolitan directors had accepted the

ballet’s status as they found it in England. Their task being, however,

the production of opera in a country almost hostile to it, a failure to

simplify the problem in every possible way would have been bad

generalship.

Not finding itself expected to take rank with the ballets of other great

opera organisations, the Metropolitan’s department of dancing has gone

its comfortable gait. It has been under the direction of excellent

ballet-masters; but they become easy-going, especially after proving to

themselves that girls cannot successfully be asked to perform steps for

which they lack the foundation of training. To other mollifying

influences is added that of a slippery floor in the room dedicated to

ballet rehearsal; a room so beautiful and a floor so perfect that to

resin it would be a desecration. The dancers, in fear for the intactness

of their bones, walk through their numbers as best they can, and

ultimately perform them in a manner consistent with rehearsals.

As a step toward relieving the scarcity of ballet people, the

Metropolitan founded, about five years ago, a ballet school--an

enterprise from which, up to the present, the pupils have rather

monopolised the material profits. The arrangement between management and

pupil is, in brief, that the pupil shall remain under the school’s

(free) tuition four years, at the end of which period the Opera has an

option on her services for three years, at a salary of twenty dollars a

week, a little more or less. If she appears in the _corps de ballet_

during her period of study, she is paid proportionately. The school work

occupies two hours per day, about nine months of the year. The

atmosphere of both school and Opera is wholesome and good; no fault can

be found with the arrangement on a basis of fairness; but the number of

individuals the school has added to the Opera’s ballet is shockingly

small. Every _revue_, musical comedy, and other light musical production

includes a collection of young women called a ballet; and each year of

increased general intelligence in dancing matters adds to the

desirability that these ballets should justify the name. The pretty

girl, plus coloured lights, drapery, and lively cavorting, no longer

constitutes a perfectly secure grip on public approval (except always in

burlesque, with which we are not concerned). The result is an insatiable

demand for girls who can even half dance. And that demand, in its turn,

is a steady drain on the Opera’s school. Before she has studied two

years, a girl can qualify for a position in an outside concern--a

condition of which she never remains in ignorance very long. She thinks

it over. Two years more work in the school would insure her a position

in the Opera, at weekly pay no greater than the present offer, for a

comparatively short season each year. Now, if the Metropolitan ballet

had great prestige as a choreographic organisation--a prestige like that

of the Russian ballet, for instance--its more capable members would be

sought after as teachers. A connection with it would confer artistic

honour and material profit. Unfortunately, such prestige is one of the

elements that are lacking. In résumé: continuance with the school

insures employment for about half of every year, beginning at a later

time, with the chances of advancement almost zero. Whereas, musical

comedy and the like offer the probability of employment the year round,

minus the time of rehearsing new productions. Present profits are more

attractive than the deferred kind; and, a consideration by no means

unimportant, a pretty face and a pleasing manner are reasonable grounds

on which to hope for a “part.” Her contract? The young girl of the

present generation has had her own way about everything since the hour

of her birth. Experience teaches her that the worst penalty reasonably

to be expected is a harmless reproof, soon ended. And her experience is

a true guide in this case. As a matter of sentiment, no one likes to

oppose the wishes of a girl. As a matter of business, it would be of

doubtful advantage for the opera company to take legal steps to enjoin

its contract-breaking pupils from appearing in other concerns.

Happenings connected with opera and the theatres have a high value in

the newspapers; no motive is more popular than that of the persecution

of the poor but beautiful girl; the publicity force of the musical

comedy employing said girl would busy itself creating for her the rôle

of victim. The opera management would find difficulty in securing a true

and therefore comparatively uninteresting public statement of its case;

indeed, it would be likely to be made to appear, in the eyes of the

multitude, as a sort of ogre.

The Metropolitan school furnishes a complete and conclusive test of the

possibilities of an opera organisation, as such, in the province of

dancing. But even if the Metropolitan ballet were right now at the

highest conceivable pitch of perfection, a radical change of policy

would be necessary as a preliminary to giving the school its proper

power to hold its pupils’ allegiance. That is to say, the opportunity to

appear in an occasional _divertissement_ is not sufficient to hold an

ambitious and capable young man or woman through long years of study. In

St. Petersburg, the Imperial Opera House dedicates two nights a week to

mimetic ballet. The dancers’ art on those occasions is subordinate to

none. The dance is the thing; and the dancers, according to ability, are

given the opportunity to interpret character and motive. In short, they

are given the opportunity to express their art as individuals.

Now, one or another of the American opera companies might be willing and

able to duplicate the above conditions--conditions without whose aid no

ballet reaches a high plane of development. The undertaking, however,

would have at least twice the weight of the administration of either

ballet or opera alone; it would be accompanied, too, by a risk that the

twofold interest would result in confusing or displeasing a portion of

the music-lovers who constitute opera’s support. The creation,

development and maintenance of standards of a great ballet is a combined

task and opportunity for dance-lovers themselves, and an end to be

reached through the medium of a ballet institution. It may be added that

the Russian régime puts music and ballet under the charge of two

distinct and separate institutions.

Opera companies whose traditions have been formed during recent years

have naturally felt the force of the renaissance of dancing; they have

invested their ballets with an importance that would have been

considered disproportionate if their formative period had coincided with

the mid-Victorian period. The Philadelphia-Chicago company has had a

better _corps de ballet_ than could logically be expected in view of the

limitations of American material; credit is due Sr. Luigi Albertieri,

the ballet-master. As _première danseuse_ the same company for some

years has had Signorina Rosina Galli, a delightful little product of la

Scala. In 1913 Sr. Albertieri took the post of ballet-master of the new

Century Opera Company, with Miss Albertina Rasch, formerly of the Vienna

opera, as _première_. The public’s readiness to recognise good work was

demonstrated during the Century’s first presentation of _The Jewels of

the Madonna_. After the act in which the _Tarantella_ is danced, the

audience demanded that Miss Rasch respond, with the two principal

singers, to the curtain-calls.

In Canada, the influence of the times may be noted in the Canadian Royal

Opera Company’s engagement of Madame Pavlowa and her company to provide

the ballet portion of eight performances. Of present interest in the

dance throughout North America, there is no manner of doubt. It is

perfectly clear that appreciation of choreographic beauty and

discernment of skill are rapidly advancing. London has shown its

capacity to support four great ballet attractions through the same

season, and that a long one; the United States is influenced by

England’s taste in entertainment. Dancing exhibitions and pageants are

now a part of the entertainments of smart society. A masque produced by

Mrs. Hawkesworth, in one of the private gardens of Newport, was of a

nature to recall the historic festivals of Catherine de Medici. And the

nation’s taste in entertainment is influenced by smart society. All

signs point to a continued and even growing interest in dancing. And it

is possible, without other aid or guidance than that interest in dancing

in general, that dancing as a great art, an art of deep emotional

interpretation, will take its proper place in this land. But, with the

multitude of forces of vulgarity, get-rich-quick commercialism, and

heedlessness opposed to it, it is doubtful. At the present moment, the

high art of dancing is pleasing, and its emotional message partly

comprehended. If it were fully comprehended, that art would be an

indispensable source of refreshment to the American mind. Consistently

repeated for a few years, its idiom would be familiar to a large part of

the population. The conditions which this chapter has analysed show,

however, that the sufficient and adequate repetition of ballet drama is

by no means certain. And this chapter’s motive is to emphasise two

things: first, if American lovers of dancing wish to insure for

themselves the continuous opportunity to see fine representations of

that art, they must found a ballet, and an academy upon which it may

depend for its artists; second, for such a step no time can be more

propitious than the present.

If the vision of an endowed ballet institution in the United States

seems lacking on the practical side, it is not amiss to recall a few

facts of American history in its relation to music--than whose ambitions

of yesterday nothing was thought to be less practical. Thirty years ago

the attitude of the United States (particularly the West) toward

classical music was less indifferent than scornful. To confess a liking

for orchestral or operatic compositions was to brand oneself as queer.

Anything connected with music or musicians was deemed a fair mark for

newspaper jokers; and they knew their readers. Inevitably, organisations

that ventured a tour did so at their financial peril.

Individual singers and performers were protected somewhat by their

lesser expenses and their preparedness to render popular ballads; but

they too knew well the look of empty benches.

Theodore Thomas pointed out to a group of Chicago people that never,

under such conditions, would the adequate performance of great works be

other than at rare and uncertain times; that, without fairly frequent

hearing of those great works, public taste never would improve.

Obviously, the programmes that Mr. Thomas proposed to give, and the

manner and frequency with which he proposed to give them, brought up the

prophetic vision of considerable money loss; but the funds were

subscribed. The result is the Chicago Orchestra: a source of unending

happiness to lovers of good music, just pride to the city, and material

benefit in no slight degree. Chicago finds itself the place of residence

of several thousand music students, and a centre of attraction for many

more thousands of occasional pilgrims to the Orchestra’s concerts.

Lastly, as though to show that idealism is not the idle dissipation that

it seems, the Orchestra was reported several years ago to have reached a

basis of self-support.

The same history has been virtually duplicated in perhaps a score of

cities, needless to enumerate. Even “practical” people admit that most

of the orchestras so endowed, though they may have passed through a

period of begging people to accept passes to concerts, are now paying

their own expenses. The general history of the Metropolitan Opera has

already been outlined. Opera in other cities has gone through much the

same train of events, slowly changing indifference to interest, and

having now arrived at the stage of independence made possible by a

demand that grows steadily in volume and intelligence. The number of

performances in each city shows a consistent annual growth.

Certainly the taste for dancing of a high class is no less worthy of

indulgence and cultivation than the taste for the sister art of music.

If music’s dependence upon endowment was once more evident than is that

of dancing now, then so much less is the difficulty of financing a

ballet institution; proportionately less, too, are the hazards and

delays to be undergone before the institution arrives at a paying basis.

For the organisation and conduct of such an institution, the Russian

ballet and Academy supplies a model that could be followed in most

details. American sentiment probably would rebel at so complete a

separation of children from parents as the Imperial Academy requires;

but a less complete separation would not necessarily be detrimental to

results. For actual technical work in dancing, plastic gymnastics,

pantomime, music and other courses more than a few hours a day would be

beyond the strength of very young pupils, leaving half of each day to

attend common school. As the pupil advances, his hours per day in the

academy could increase; he could acquire general education after his

technical education is accomplished with just as good results as

accompany the present reversal of that sequence.

The weak spot that appears in the plan is the possible interference of

parents with the school’s discipline. The training of a dancer involves

hard work and a great deal of it. Although the work be demonstrably

beneficial in all ways, the American parents’ attitude toward that work

and the accompanying discipline would be the question to be settled.

Boys, to be sure, are sent sometimes at an early age to military

schools, and there brought up under a more or less exact régime. But

public sentiment favours the indulgence of the girl in all her wishes.

It would be a matter requiring adjustment, and probably susceptible of

adjustment. Far greater difficulties have been overcome.

Against the prevailing tendency to abandon the training in order to

accept outside engagements, by which the Metropolitan Opera School of

Ballet has been too often victimised, the academy could protect itself

by requiring each pupil to file a bond as a condition of entrance, the

amount to be forfeited if the pupil violates his agreement. Questions of

payment, ranking of performers, amount of pensions and the like are

details needless to consider in the general plan.

Proper equipment would represent a considerable expenditure: a modern

theatre, or the liberal use of one; drill halls, music rooms, gymnasium,

baths, etc. As to instructors, the right kind are available. At the

outset, ballet-master and most of the dancers would have to be engaged

from outside, their number decreasing as the school’s products reached

the proficiency to take their places. The employment, at the beginning,

of finished dancers, would be of advantage in establishing standards

for students. Scenery, costumes and orchestra are to be had at the cost

of thought and money. Medical and other expenses, taxes, etc., are minor

considerations. Now to returns. In considering which, it is understood

that such an undertaking may not make expenses at first. But it is not

impossible that good management should reduce the losing years to a very

small number.

Assuming (say) thirty performances in the home city during the first

year: the prestige of that number of performances, kept up to a

consistent pitch of excellence, would be nation-wide. As a result of

that prestige, a long tour and several short ones would undoubtedly

return an excess over salaries and costs. Bear in mind that a commercial

undertaking of the sort must figure on recouping a heavy initial

expense, and transportation of a company from Europe and return.

Special engagements of artists, in groups or individually, would net the

institution a greater or less part of the receipts, according to the

terms of individual contracts.

Considering conditions as they are, and looking at the history of music

as a fair analogy, it would be safe to assume that local interest in

dancing and the mimetic ballet would increase steadily after the

institution’s first year, increasing income proportionately. On the

other side of the account, expenses should begin to decrease after the

third year. A wardrobe and a stock of scenery would have been

accumulated, their cost reduced to upkeep and occasional additions. More

important, pupils by that time would begin to qualify for the ballet,

decreasing the pay-roll of European dancers. In eight years, if the

institution has been reasonably fortunate, it should have a ballet

recruited principally from its own school. These alumni, of whatever

grade, it would have at low salaries; salaries at the same time

satisfactory to the recipients, whose popularity as private teachers

would be about in ratio to the quality of work with which they

identified themselves in performances. Stated hours of exemption from

duties connected with the ballet and the school would open the way to

such extra revenue. The pay of the _première danseuse_ of l’Opéra of

Paris is small, in relation to the requirements of her position; but

teaching and outside performances are said to yield her a comfortable

income.

Pension payments would represent a loss more apparent than real, since

many pensioners could, with adjustments, serve as teachers and aides in

various capacities.

So far as can be learned, the foregoing covers the principal elements of

expense and possibilities of revenue. The difficulties would be heavy,

but less so than those that have been met and overcome. The ballet

institution, achieved, would be a contribution to the fine arts no less

glorious than any this country has yet received, an organism whose

service to broad æsthetic cultivation has been equalled by few.

On the score of both public education and its correlative, the steady

increase of the ballet’s earnings, too much emphasis cannot be laid on

the advantage the institution would have in its facilities for repeating

great works at frequent intervals. We have seen how ground gained by the

first Russian season in America was partly lost, through conditions that

made it impossible to follow up victories. The choreographic idiom once

understood in its fulness, and its public having found itself, the

changes of fashion in popular taste would be powerless to affect the

dignified status of the art. Under commercial conditions, let the

general level of taste sag, or appear to sag, and fine expression is no

more. The thousands who have half learned to love the good give it up,

and revert to the mediocre; while those who are wholly in sympathy with

the good say nothing, stay away from the theatre, and are supposed, by

managers, not to exist. Good taste never dies out; it only appears to.

The amalgamation of the aristocracy of taste that would be effected by

the proposed institution would, in itself, have a tremendous importance.

Any basis for computing the potential support for good and honest

attractions would be of the utmost advantage to their proprietors.

Disclosures of a substantial demand would encourage tours of the best in

Europe, while a reliable measure of the limitations of such demand would

be no less valuable as a warning against reckless expense. Certainly it

is to the interest of the art that good attractions shall be materially

profitable.

As to the thought of any tendency of such an institution to take the

practice of dancing away from the laity, and confine it to paid

exhibitions, the effect would be to the contrary. It would, however,

make for a rise of standards. Dancing clubs and pantomime clubs that a

little fertilisation would bring to light would find in a quasi-public

ballet an inspiration and a guide; and the good to public health and

spirits, in the way of such clubs alone, would be pronounced. Also,

prevalent impressions concerning the relationship between cleverness,

“individuality” and genuine workmanship would be modified, to the

betterment of what is known as the American spirit.

Greek poets found metre for their verses in the tapping of feet on the

floor. Since the days of Gluck and Gretry, the ballet has been among the

foremost stimuli and guides in musical composition. Of late years, the

Russian ballet’s lift to romantic music is a matter of almost common

knowledge. Is it a ballet that is awaited as the inspiration of an

American school of music? It is not impossible. But that, and a thousand

other questions, are not for present consideration. The present issue is

the institution itself.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

LA DANSE GRECQUE ANTIQUE: _Maurice Emmanuel_.--Traces the origin of

a number of steps to ancient Greece, by analysis of poses of

dancing, figures on ceramics, etc. Good explanation of ballet

steps. (French.)

A GRAMMAR OF THE ART OF DANCING: _Friedrich Albert Zorn_.--Explains

a system of choreographic writing by means of symbols to indicate

positions and movements. By means (partly) of symbols explains

ballet steps, also several ballroom dances. Exact and complete.

(Written in German; translated into English and other languages.)

L’ACADEMIE IMPERIALE DE MUSIQUE: _Castil-Blaze_.--“Histoire

litteraire, musicale, choréographique, pittoresque, morale,

critique, facétieuse, politique et galante de ce théâtre.” (From

1645 to 1855.) Contains much history and anecdote of Roman Empire

and Middle Ages, with descriptions of mediæval ambulatory ballets,

etc. (French.)

LES PENSÉES: _J.-J. Rousseau_.--Defends the dance against attacks

of English. Rare; frequently missing from (supposedly) complete

editions of the author. (French.)

MEMOIRS ET JOURNAUX: _Pierre de l’Estoile_.--A collection of

anecdotes of the court of Henry III. A mine of information and

gossip in relation to masques, etc., in the period described.

(French.)

DES BALLETS ANCIENS ET MODERNES, SELON LES RÉGLES DU THÉÂTRE:

_Claude François Ménestrier_. 1682.--Author was a Jesuit priest.

Book includes extensive list of ballets produced in France up to

year of its publication.

ORCHESOGRAPHIE: _Thoinet-Arbeau_ (anagram of _Jean Tabourot_).

1589.--Author was Canon of Langres and Maître de Chapelle of Henry

III. The first book devoted to the dance. Comments on all aspects

of dancing in France of his time. (French)

THE CODE OF TERPSICHORE.--LE CODE COMPLET DE LA DANSE.--TRAITÉ

HISTORIQUE THÉORIQUE ET PRATIQUE DE L’ART DE LA DANSE, DE LA

PANTOMIME, DES BALLETS: _Carlo Blasis_.--Of the three books named,

the first is in English; its material is more or less repeated in

the other two, which are in French. A standard for the use of

ballet-masters especially. Authoritative on matters pertaining to

ballet technique, questionable on character dances, wholly

untrustworthy on Spanish.

LETTRES SUR LA DANSE ET LES BALLETS: _M. Noverre_, ballet-master of

the Duke of Würtemburg, l’Opéra of Paris, and other operas.

1760.--Classic. Author was the prophet of and leader to the modern

ballet. A broad and comprehensive work on art, as well as

authoritative on stage direction, ballet technique, and history.

(French.)

DE LA SALTATION THÉÂTRALE: _M. de l’Aulnaye_. 1790.--Dancing and

pantomime in antiquity. Contains a catalogue (thought by some

authorities to be complete) of dances of ancient Greece. (French.)

DANCING AND DANCERS OF TODAY: _Caroline and Charles Caffin_.

1912.--Special attention to biographies of contemporary dancers.

(English.)

LETTRES À SOPHIE SUR LA DANSE: _A. Baron_. 1825.--History,

folk-dances and balls of Middle Ages. A chapter is devoted to

dancing of Hebrews. (French.)

LA DICTIONNAIRE DE LA DANSE: _G. Desrat_.--Recent. Extremely

useful. In dictionary form presents wide range of information.

A HISTORY OF DANCING: _G. Vuillier_. 1898.--Translated from

original French into English and Italian. Readable history of the

art from antiquity to latter 19th century; many descriptions of

early ballets and masques are quoted from Ménestrier, De l’Estoile

and others.

MODERN DANCING AND DANCERS: _J. E. Crawford Flitch_. 1912.--History

of ballet in England, biographical-analytical sketches of

individuals of latter 19th century, details of Russian ballet in

London. Delightfully written. (English.)

TRATADO DE BAILES: _Jose Otero_, famous master in Seville.

1912.--Expression of the spirit of Spanish dancing. Much amusing

reminiscence. (Spanish.)

DICTIONNAIRE DE DANSE: _Charles Compan_. 1802.--Detailed

instructions in social dances of the period. (French.)

NOTE.--The above-named works are not arranged in order either of

chronology or importance.

INDEX

ADAGIO, 95.

Albert, dancer, 109.

Albertieri, Luigi, ballet-master;

definition _balloné_, 74;

Century Opera Company, 314.

_Alegrias_, Spanish dance, 134.

Alexander VI, see Pope.

Allard, Mlle., dancer, 107.

_Allemande_, the, court dance, 52.

_Almées_, the, tribe of dancers, 210.

Anacreon, 8.

Anderson, John Murray, dancer;

old court dances, 52;

modern ball-room dances, 272-303.

Animals, danced representations of, 19.

Anisfeldt, Boris, designer stage decorations, 264.

Anne of Austria, 49.

Antoinette, Marie, 53.

Arabesque (posture), 78.

Arabs, dancing of, 196 _et seq._

Arbeau, Thoinet (anagram of Jehan Tabourot), Canon of

Langres, choreographic historian. Ridicules opposition to dancing, 31.

Hints on deportment, 55.