LA BELLE CAMARGO
Some say that Camargo had no right to be described “La Belle.”
Contemporary accounts of her appearance differ. It was a time when
people took sides, and duelled for their opinions.
It is a curious fact that several famous dancers have been of
questionable beauty--at least, as to face, and when in repose; for
it is another curious thing that no dancer ever did or possibly ever
could, look plain when dancing, that is, if dancing really well. The
animation or gentle grace of the dance, whether quick or slow, seems
inevitably to confer a beauty that otherwise might not be apparent.
This fact in itself would appear to suggest that in dancing, as in
other arts, and in life itself, it is the “spirit which quickeneth”;
and, where that sufficiently illumines the body, what the body itself
may otherwise be profits little.
But if some of her more jealous colleagues may have found Camargo too
dark for their taste--“swarthy,” said some--you may in turn criticise
her critics and see for yourself what she was like if you go to view
her portrait by Lancret, in the Wallace collection in Hertford House.
Marie-Anne de Cupis de Camargo was born at Brussels early in April,
and baptised in the parish of St. Nicholas--it is well to be exact in
matters of such importance!--on the 15th of that month, in 1710.
She was the daughter, and first child, of a gentleman who had “seen
better days”--and, through his daughter, was to see them again. At
the time of her birth he was a teacher of music and dancing, and was
employed by, or dependent on, the Prince de Ligne. Through her father
the little dancer claimed descent from an exalted Roman family, which
from time to time had given a bishop, an archbishop, and a cardinal
to Holy Church; while on her mother’s side she was descended from a
famous and ancient Spanish house.
Romance was ever ready to find in the earliest years of a popular
star predictions of future fame, and it is probably only romance that
tells how Camargo danced, on hearing a violin played, when she was
but six months old!
It is rather more certain, though, that her first lessons were from
her father, and that under his tuition she did well enough, by the
time she was nearly ten, to deserve the patronage of the Princesse
de Ligne, when that lady paid the expenses of some few months’ study
under the then famous Mlle. Prévôt.
Even so she must have been remarkably precocious, for before she
was eleven she had returned to Brussels finished enough to achieve
a remarkable success on her first appearance. An auspicious _début_
was followed by an engagement at Rouen, but, through no fault of
Marie-Anne be it said, the manager failed.
As the Camargo luck would have it, however, there was a new director
at the _Académie Royale_ in Paris, by name Francine, and from him the
little dancer received the welcome chance of appearing at the Opera,
where she made her Paris _début_ on May 5th, 1726, in “Les Caractères
de la Danse,” and achieved an instant and emphatic success.
Over the new-comer the impressionable capital fairly lost its head,
and soon every fashion--shoes, hats, fans, coiffures, everything--was
“_à la Camargo_,” of which craze relics survive, for even to-day we
have Camargo shoes. Such a threatened eclipse of her own popularity
not unnaturally made poor Prévôt--now about forty-six, and having
been before the public over twenty years--furiously jealous, and
for the next year or so Marie-Anne’s progress was made difficult
by intrigue, and ere Paris set its seal of favour on her art by
imitating her fashions, the young dancer had to find herself more
than once occupying the comparative obscurity of the “back row.”
Her chance came, though, when one of the famous male dancers,
Dumoulin, for some reason failed to make his entry, and Camargo, in
a sudden devil-may-care mood, taking up his cue, leapt forward and
went through his dance with such dazzling brilliance and won such
universal acclaim that henceforth any intrigue for the suppression
of the youthful artist was impossible, and it was Prévôt, not
Marie-Anne, who eventually had to go.
While Sallé--also a pupil of Prévôt--was making a bid for fame in
London, Camargo was taking Paris by storm, and creating another of
which she was temporarily the unhappy centre. Furious at this second
obtrusion on the public notice Mlle. Prévôt bitterly upbraided her
pushing young pupil, refused to give her any more lessons, and even
to dance with her in an _entrée_ in which the Duchesse de Berri had
asked her to appear.
A well-known male dancer of the Opera, seeing Camargo in tears, said
to her: “Leave this severe and jealous mistress, who seeks only to
mortify you. I will give you lessons, and will compose the _entrée_
which the Duchesse requires and you shall dance in it.” Under the
careful direction of Blondi the young dancer--then only sixteen--made
rapid progress. She combined _noblesse_ and brilliance of execution,
with grace, lightness, and a gaiety which was natural to her--on
the stage. One who had seen her described her in the following
terms: “_C’était une femme d’esprit; fort gaie sur la scène et fort
triste à la ville; qui n’était ni jolie ni bien faite, mais légère,
et la légèreté était alors un mérite fort rare. Elle exécutait
avec une extrême facilité la ‘royale’ et ‘l’entrechat’ coupé sans
frottement...._”
There was for a little time considerable rivalry between Sallé,
Camargo and a third young dancer named Roland, of whose record
history has been neglectful. But the rivalry was testified by an
anonymous scribe whose verses may be translated as follow:
“Of Camargo, Roland, Sallé
The connoisseurs have much to say!
One holds ’tis Sallé’s grace that tells,
And one--Roland in joy excels.
But each is struck by the display
Of nimble steps and daring way
Of Camargo.
“Equal the balance ’twixt the three
But were I Paris, forced to choose,
Only I know I could not use
But crown the dance, sublime and free,
Of Camargo.”
There was of course the inevitable tribute from Voltaire, whose poem,
apart from the ingenuity with which he divides his favours between
the rival stars, is of unusual interest, since it gives a useful
impression of their contrasted styles in apostrophising the dancers
thus:
“Ah! Camargo, que vous êtes brillante!
Mais que Sallé, grand dieux! est ravissante!
Que vos pas sont légers, et que les siens sont doux!
Elle est inimitable, et vous êtes nouvelle;
Les nymphes sautent comme vous
Et les Grâces dansent comme elle.”
It is all safe praise of course, but when we separate the qualities
one finds that he is only versifying the current opinion--Camargo
is “brillante,” her steps are “légers,” and the “nouvelle” refers
less to _her_ than to the novelty of her steps, with the clever
invention of which she delighted her audience; and the nymphs, you
observe, “_sautent_ comme vous,” an appropriate phrase for one whose
_entrechats_ amazed a generation to which such things were new. On
the other hand, Sallé was “ravissante,” her steps were “doux”; she
was “inimitable,” and “les Grâces _dansent_ comme elle,” a point of
special significance when we recall the historic distinction between
the words _sauter_ and _danser_.
Voltaire’s admiration was not exactly fevered--could the icy
“intellectual” ever have been that? Not so the rest of Paris.
Rumour soon gave her countless lovers--as it will a pretty actress
to-day?--but history does not record that she succumbed to their
protestations. Certainly duels were fought on her behalf; but
probably she was unaware that she was the cause; and certainly she
did not provoke them. _Was_ she a pretty actress? Setting aside the
opinion of her feminine contemporaries, unbiased colleagues thought
not. Yet painters such as Lancret, Vanloo, and Pater sought for the
honour of depicting her graceful figure and--was it her face? Well,
as to actual features perhaps she was not faultlessly beautiful,
but with that mingled Italian and Spanish blood, even if she were
swarthy as some said, she must have been striking, temperamental,
full of fire and “interesting” as we might say to-day. Much of her
fascination must have been in expression, and one feels that she had
that quality which often makes a dancer--sheer joy in dancing.
[Illustration: M. Ballon and Mlle. Prévôt
(_After an engraving [reversed] in the Bibliothèque de l’Opéra_).]
[Illustration: Camargo
(_From the painting by Lancret in the Wallace Collection_).]
Her style was noted by contemporaries as combining quickness with
grace to a degree not previously achieved, and she won special credit
for her invention of new steps. Her improvisation of new dances
was remarkable, and it is important to note that she was the first to
perform an _entrechat_, which, only for the benefit of non-dancing
readers, may be described as the step in which a dancer actually
crosses her feet rapidly while in mid-air. This historic innovation
took place in 1730, and she could make four crossings; while eight
are said to be as many as any dancer has since performed.
Another interesting point to note is that until the advent of Camargo
the ballet skirts reached nearly, or quite, to the ankles. She was
the first to shorten it, not, of course, to the brevity one can only
regret has been too often seen since, but to such degree as to enable
the steps to be better seen and the dancer to have greater freedom of
movement. Her favourite dances were the _Tambourin_, _Gavotte_, and
_Rigaudon_, or _Rigadoon_, as it is known in English. But for all the
shortening of the skirt and the rapidity of her steps, Marie-Anne was
never accused from departing from modesty, grace, and refinement of
deportment.
A curious personal characteristic was, that while on the stage
she was the incarnation of gaiety, yet in private life she was
for the most part strangely grave, and even sad; though, with all
the advantages of talent, position, and wealth of which she was
possessed, it might have been expected she should be quite otherwise.
No one ever discovered the reason. One imagines it to have been that
modern disease, “the artistic temperament,” and a steady perception
of the pitiful fact that all stage triumphs are but transient; and
that, popular as she might be, and was, on her retirement in 1751,
her fame would not long endure after her death, which actually
occurred in 1770. Yet to-day she lives for us in Lancret’s exquisite
picture, for all to see who visit Hertford House.
CAMARGO SPEAKS
“Talk to me not of poor Prévôt,
With all her peevish airs and graces;
Her day is past! ’Tis sad, I know,
But then--we cannot _all_ be aces!
’Tis time she learned her proper place is
A little lower in the pack;
For all in favour now _my_ pace is:
Of Rigaudons I have the knack.
“Though some still like a vogue that’s slow,
Formal, and stiff, the present craze is
All for the dance that has some ‘go;’
And Minuet enjoys all praises.
But yet my dance the more amazes,
And none can follow on my ‘track,’
As step with swift step interlaces.
Of Rigaudons I _have_ the knack.
“When in my aerial flight I go,
High leaping, see the people’s faces!
How round their eyes begin to grow,
And what a shout each one upraises!
Perchance some jealous girl grimaces.
But what of that! when, smiling back,
I see the one thing _she_ betrays is--
Of Rigaudons _I_ have the knack!
ENVOI
“_But oh! one fear my soul abases._
_Time will some day my fair limbs rack!_
_Who then will reck that now the phrase is--_
_‘Of Rigaudons I have the knack’?_”