_Paris, December 30, 1801_.
Dancing, like the other arts in France, has, during the revolution,
experienced the vicissitudes of this new order of things; but also,
like the other arts, it has made a progress equally astonishing and
rapid. However, it must not thence be inferred that dancing,
particularly theatrical, had not attained a certain degree of
superiority long before the revolution; yet a most evident
improvement has been made in it, not only by the old-established
dancers, who then seemed almost to have done their best, but by the
numerous competitors who have since made their appearance.
It is not in the power of words to convey an adequate idea of the
effect produced on the senses by some of the ballets. In lieu of
those whimsical capers, forced attitudes, vague and undefined
gestures of a set of dancers whose movements had no signification,
dancing now forms an animated, graceful, and diversified picture, in
which all the human passions are feelingly pourtrayed. Their language
is the more expressive from its being more refined and concentrated.
In the silence of pantomime, recourse is had to every ingenious
gesture, in order to impart to them greater force and energy; and, in
this mute play, restraint seems to kindle eloquence. Every motion has
its meaning; the foot speaks as well as the eye, and the sensations
of the mind are expressed by the attitudes of the body. A delicate
sentiment is rendered with the rapidity of lightning. Love, fear,
hope, and despair, change countenances, and say every thing that they
wish to say, void of deceit, as if falsehood no longer existed as
soon as the mouth ceased to open.
It should not be forgotten that it was NOVERRE who first brought
about in France this reform in what were till then called ballets,
without deserving the title. He banished wigs, hoop-petticoats, and
other preposterous habiliments, and, by dint of superior genius,
seconded by taste and perseverance, introduced those historical
pictures, replete with grace, expression, and sentiment, in the room
of the flat, insipid, and lifeless caricatures, which had hitherto
usurped admiration.
But, though NOVERRE, and, after him, the GARDELS, introduced on the
Parisian stage the pantomimic art in all the lustre in which it
flourished on the theatres of Greece and Rome, yet they had been
anticipated by HILWERDING in Germany, and ANGIOLINI in Italy, two
celebrated men, who, in a distinguished manner, laid the foundations
of a species of modern entertainment, before known only by the annals
of ancient history. Those who have trod in their steps have
infinitely surpassed them in attractions, and, by their scientific
compositions, acquired a justly-merited reputation.
GARDEL, who, for the last fifteen years, has been the first dancer at
the opera, shews himself but seldom. After having, during that long
period, received the warmest and best deserved applause, either in
the execution of the noble style of dancing, or in the composition of
ballets, he seems now to have devoted himself almost exclusively to
the last-mentioned branch of his art, and the perfection to which he
daily carries it, may well compensate the public for the privation of
his talents in the line of execution.
The most famous pantomimical ballets or _ballets d'action_ (as they
are styled) now represented here, are _Psyché_, _Télémaque_, _Le
Jugement de Paris_, _Mirza_, and _la Dansomanie_. The impression to
which I have before alluded, is particularly observable during the
representation of the first three (composed by GARDEL), the charm of
which would be weakened by any attempt at description. No spectator,
be his disposition ever so cold and indifferent, can behold them
unmoved. Every effort of human skill and invention is exerted to
excite astonishment and admiration. The _ensemble_ of the _spectacle_
and decorations correspond to the fertile genius of the author. It is
the triumph of the art, and there may be fixed the limits of
pantomime, embellished by dancing. Nothing more perfect than the
rapid change of scenery. Meteors, apparitions, divinities borne on
clusters of clouds or in cars, appear and disappear, as if by
enchantment, exhibiting situations the most picturesque and striking.
BOULAY, the principal machinist, is, perhaps, the first in his line
in Europe. In the opera of _Armide_, I have seen him raise into the
air nearly one half of the theatre. He executes whatever is proposed
to him, no matter how difficult, and he is well seconded by the
painters and draughtsmen. The new decorations display much taste, and
produce an effect truly wonderful.
Had I not already made the remark, you might have concluded from the
general tenour of my observations, that the dancing forms the most
brilliant part, of the _spectacle_ at this theatre, or, in other
words, that the accessory prevails over the main subject. It is no
longer, as heretofore, a few capital dancers of both sexes who form
the ornament of the opera. Almost all the competitors in this line
are so many _virtuosi_ who deserve and equally participate the
plaudits of the public. There is not among them any mediocrity. The
establishment of the _école de la danse_ is for this theatre a
nursery, where Terpsichore finds, in great numbers, the most
promising plants for the decoration of her temple. It is saying
little to affirm that nothing equals the superiority of talents of
this description which the opera comprehends at the present moment.
These advantages, I understand, are chiefly due to GARDEL. He has
given the example and the precept, and, through his guidance, the art
of dancing is become doubly captivating.
After having supplied most of the principal cities in Europe with
capital dancers, this theatre, far from being impoverished, is still
in possession of a numerous train of first-rate _artists_ of both
sexes in every style of dancing. The men are GARDEL, MILON, ST.
AMAND, DESHAIES, GOYON, BEAUPRÉ, BRANCHU, BEAULIEU, AUMER, LÉON,
TAGLIONI, DUPORT, and VESTRIS.
It is unnecessary to speak of the talents of VESTRIS, as they are as
well known in London as in Paris. I shall therefore content myself
with remarking that he delights in exhibiting feats of agility; but
as his age increases, connoisseurs think that he declines a little.
Nevertheless, he is still, in reality, the first dancer at the opera.
It is said that his son, ARMAND VESTRIS, will, in time, be able to
supply his place; in the mean while, DUPORT bids fair to fill it, in
case the "_Dieu de la danse_" should retire; not to mention DESHAIES,
who has lately met with an accident which has disabled him for the
present; but who, when on the stage in the presence of Vestris, has
shewn that he could also astonish and delight the spectators. Without
having the boldness of his rival, he exhibits more certainty and
_à-plomb_. In the character of _Télémaque_, he appears with all the
grace of Apollo. If excellence in dancing be allowed to consist less
in the efforts of the dancer, than in the ease and gracefulness of
his attitudes, and the lightness and precision of his steps, DESHAIES
may he classed in the first rank of his profession.
In this exercise, as in every thing else, there is a just medium, and
this is more particularly observed by the principal female dancers.
The names of these are GARDEL, CLOTILDE, CHEVIGNY, PÉRIGNON, COLLOMB,
CHAMEROI,[1] SAULNIER, VESTRIS, DELISLE, MILLIÈRE, LOUISE, FÉLICITÉ,
DUPORT, TAGLIONI, ALINE, ÉTIENNE, JACOTOT, FLORINE, ADÈLE, to whom
may be added two most promising _débutantes_, LA NEUVILLE and
BIGOTINI, whose first appearance I witnessed.
Though Madame GARDEL, wife of the principal ballet-master, shines in
_demi-caractère_, her talents, in the different parts in which she is
placed, are above all panegyric. As NOVERRE has said somewhere of a
famous dancer, "she is always tender, always graceful, sometimes a
butterfly, sometimes a zephyr, at one moment inconstant, at another
faithful; always animated by a new sentiment, she represents with
voluptuousness all the shades of love." To sum up her merits, she is
really in her art the female Proteus of the lyric scene. Mademoiselle
CLOTILDE is a tall, elegant woman, who dances in the serious style.
All her movements, made with precision, exhibit the beautiful
proportion of her finely-modelled figure; but, owing to her stature,
she appears to most advantage in pantomime, particularly in the
character of _Calypso_ in the ballet of _Télémaque_. In the same
ballet, MILLIÈRE, in the part of _Eucharis_, displays her playful
graces and engaging mien. CHEVIGNY is full of expression in
pantomime, and dances in great perfection, notwithstanding her
_embonpoint_. PÉRIGNON and COLLOMB are superior in the comic style,
and all the others are not without some peculiar exellence.[2]
I should never finish, were I to attempt to particularize the merits
of all these fascinating women, who, as well as the men, have, of
late, alternately interchanged the characters they performed in the
ballets of action. Even those introduced occasionally in the fêtes
given and received by the heroes in the different operas, present a
real contest, in which the first-rate dancers of both sexes exert
themselves to snatch the palm from their rivals. When a theatre
possesses such a richness, variety, and assemblage of talents in the
same art, it may boldly stylo itself the first in Europe. But I must
confess that an innovation has been introduced here which detracts
much from what has always been considered as fine dancing. I mean the
mania of _pirouettes_. This, however, seems less to be attributed to
a decided _penchant_ of the dancers than to that of a new public, not
yet familiarized to what constitutes true taste.
During a revolution, every thing changes, every thing assumes a new
face. What was entitled to please yesterday in times of tranquillity,
is to-day, during the jar of public opinion, and will be to-morrow
subject to all the variations of caprice. The marvellous and gigantic
usurp the place of the natural, and claim alone the right to
entertain. True it is that the dancers have found means to render
this new manner interesting, while they have enjoyed the sweets of
it. The pleasure of being applauded is so great, that it is no easy
matter to withstand the powerful allurement of the plaudits of a
numerous audience. Boileau has said, "_Aimez-vous la muscade? On en a
mis par tout_." The French dancers, following his example, have said,
"_Aimez-vous les pirouettes?_" The public have answered _oui_; and
_pirouettes_ are all the rage.
When a certain king of Bisnagar sneezes, the court, the town, the
provinces, all the subjects of his empire, in short, sneeze in
imitation of their monarch. Without departing from my subject, I
shall only observe that _pirouettes_, like this sneezing, have found
their way from the opera-stage into the circles of every class of
society in Paris. There lies the absurdity. The young Frenchmen have
been emulous to dance like dancers by profession; the women have had
the same ambition; and both men and women have, above all, been
desirous to shine like them in _pirouettes_. Thence most of the
dances, formerly practised in society, in which simple and natural
grace was combined with a certain facility and nobleness of
execution, have been entirely laid aside. It must be acknowledged,
that, among the dancers in private company, there are many, indeed,
who, by dint of imitation and study, have attained a great degree of
perfection. But I now perceive that people here no longer dance for
their amusement; they dance to gratify their vanity, and many a
person who has not practised some hours in the morning under the
tuition of his master, excuses himself in the evening, pretends to be
lame, and declines dancing.
The taste and elegance of the dresses of the opera-dancers, like
those of the heroes and heroines of the sock and buskin, leave
nothing to be wished for. In lieu of drawers, which all women,
without exception, were formerly obliged to wear on the stage[3],
those who dance have now substituted silk pantaloons, woven with
feet, in order to serve also as stockings. In some particular
characters, they wear these of flesh colour, and it is not then easy,
at first sight, to distinguish whether it be or be not the clothing
of nature.
The French opera having been long considered as the grand national
theatre, it has ever been the pride of the government, whether
monarchical or republican, to support it in a manner worthy of the
nation. In fact, the disbursements are so great, that it would be
impossible for the receipts to cover them, though the performances
are seldom suspended for more than two days in the week, and the
house is generally crowded. This theatre is managed by the
government, and on its account. The Minister of the Interior appoints
a commissioner to superintend its operations, and managers to conduct
them. During the old _régime_, the opera cost the crown annually from
one hundred and fifty to two hundred thousand livres. What the
extraordinary expenses of this house are, under the present
government, is not so easily ascertained; but, from the best
information that I have been able to procure, their amount is from
three to four hundred thousand francs a year. Here is a considerable
increase; but it must be remembered that the price of several
articles is now greatly augmented, if not doubled.
The receipt of the opera, on an average, used to be from twelve to
fifteen thousand livres a night; what it is at this day, is not
positively known. Formerly, the produce of the boxes, let by the
year, was such, that nine thousand livres were paid, in a manner,
before the doors were thrown open. That resource is almost void at
present; nevertheless, this house being more spacious than the old
one, the prices of admission higher, and the performance, perhaps,
more constantly attended, the money taken at the door cannot well be
less than it was formerly. It then cost much less than it does now to
bring out a new piece. Thirty or forty thousand livres were
sufficient for the production of the most magnificent opera; while
the disbursements to be made for _Tamerlan_ will, it is thought,
amount to upwards of eighty thousand francs. At this rate, the first
representation of the _Mystères d'Isis_, of which so much has been
said, must have been attended with an expense of more than a hundred
thousand. Scandal whispers, that the managers of the opera are rather
partial to expensive pieces; but as they are accountable for their
conduct to the Minister of the Interior, I should presume that they
must act as honourable men.
The salaries are not considerable at this theatre. The first
performers have not more than twelve thousand francs a year,
exclusively of the _feux_, which is the sum given to each of them,
when they perform. This, I understand, does not exceed a louis a
night. Those who have a name, indemnify themselves by going, from
time to time, to play in the great commercial towns of the
departments, such as Bordeaux, Lyons, Marseilles, &c. where they
generally collect a rich harvest. It is said that VESTRIS has
received from the government a gratification to prevent him from
visiting the British metropolis; and it is also reported that DIDELOT
and LABORIE have made vain efforts to return to the Parisian opera;
but that the managers, faithful to their instructions, refuse to
readmit such of the old performers as have voluntarily quitted it.
What attaches performers to the opera-house is the _pension de
retraite._ They all eventually obtain it, even the chorus-singers.
The remuneration of authors, that is, of the poet and composer of the
music, is to each three hundred francs for every representation, when
the piece is not less than three acts. This is the most common
division. I know of no operas in one act; those in two are paid in
the above proportion.[4]
[Footnote 1: GARDEL has lately added another sprig of laurel to his
brow, by the production of a new pantomimical ballet, called _Daphnis
et Pandrose, ou la vengeance de l'amour_. He has borrowed the subject
from a story of Madame DE GENLIS, who took it from fable. Every
resource of his inexhaustible genius has been employed to give the
happiest effect to this charming work, to enumerate the beauties of
which is, by general report, beyond the powers of language. All the
first-rate dancers of both sexes are placed in the most advantageous
point of view throughout this ballet. Madame GARDEL performs in it
the part of Cupid, with all the charms, wiles, and graces which poets
ascribe to the roguish deity. The other characters are represented in
a manner no less interesting. In short, music, dancing, pantomime,
dress, decoration, every thing in this piece, concurs to stamp it as
one of the most wonderful productions of the kind ever exhibited to
the admiration of the public.]
[Footnote 2: In a preceding note, VESTRIS has been mentioned as the
reputed lover of Mademoiselle CHAMEROI, and from this instance of
illicit intercourse, it might, perhaps, be erroneously inferred that
most of the Parisian female opera-dancers had overleaped the pale of
virtue. Without pretending to enter the lists as the champion of
their character, though I admire their talents as warmly as any
amateur, truth induces me to observe that many of these ladies enjoy
an unblemished reputation. Madame VESTRIS, in particular, is
universally represented as a young and pretty woman, much attached to
her faithless husband, and, notwithstanding his improper example, a
constant observer of the most exemplary conduct.]
[Footnote 3: Many years ago, a Parisian actress, coming on the stage
in the part of _Mérope_, in the tragedy of that name, her petticoats
somehow happened to catch in the side-scene, and, in her hasty
endeavours to disentangle them, she exhibited to the audience the
hind part of her person. In consequence of this accident, a _sentence
de police_ enjoined every woman, whether actress or dancer, not to
appear on the boards of any theatre, without drawers.]
[Footnote 4: The refusal made by the Rector of St. Roch to admit into
that church the corpse of Mademoiselle CHAMEROI, has informed us in
England of the loss which this theatre has sustained in that young
and accomplished dancer. She died, generally regretted, in
consequence of being delivered of a child of which VESTRIS considered
himself as the real father. However, M. DE MARKOFF, the Russian
ambassador at Paris, stood sponsor to the infant, and, according to
the scandalous chronicle, was not contented with being only a
spiritual father. The Parisian public have consoled themselves for
this loss by talking a great deal about the scene to which it gave
rise. It seems that the Rector was decidedly in the wrong, the
dancers of the opera never having been comprised in the papal
excommunication which involved players. The persons composing the
funeral procession were also in the wrong to go to St. Roch, since
the Rector had positively declared that the corpse of Mademoiselle
CHAMEROI should not enter the church.]