It may be noted that this element of unreality, in varying qualities and degrees, is present in nearly all the themes which the Russians have chosen for presentation, and is most pronounced in those ballets which achieve the greatest artistic effect. Indeed, these dancers and mimes may be observed to introduce a suggestion of the fantastic, subconsciously if not deliberately, even where such is not necessarily required, seeming thereby to recognise tacitly the useful modification of the restrictions of their art which a remoteness from literal fact effects. “Le Carnaval” would not be the exquisite thing it is but for the impersonal, fantastic character with which the gay, flitting figures of the bal masqué are so delicately endowed. Even when historical tradition is drawn upon, as in “Cléopâtre,” the episode is treated with an imaginative licence which removes it very nearly into the region of fancy.
The plot of “L’Oiseau de Feu” is based upon a folk tale. At least, if precisely such a story is not to be found in any known folklore, it is obvious whence its inventor has derived inspiration. To watch a performance of this ballet is to see one of Grimm’s Tales come to life before one’s eyes—an experience as agreeably thrilling in these later (but let us hope not entirely sophisticated) years, as was formerly a perusal of pages in that immortal book. In some respects, perhaps, it is an experience more thrilling, for the story of the Fire Bird has the advantage of being unfolded to the accompaniment of Stravinsky’s music—an enhancement of its dramatic value which it would be difficult to over-rate. Stravinsky’s orchestral methods, it may be remarked in passing, have a special interest of their own, but it is enough here to comment on the descriptive quality of his music for this ballet, which is great.
The fantastic note is sounded at the very outset by the overture. Strange mutterings and uncouth, unexpected harmonies attune the hearer to an atmosphere of mystery and enchantment; he is ripe, when at length the curtain rises, for adventure in the gloomy forest whose midnight depths are disclosed. For the moment the eye takes in but little detail of the darkened stage. Gradually an open space within the forest depths is perceived, at the back of which stand high gates, giving upon a flight of stone steps. Whither the steps lead, what lies beyond, is hidden by the gloomy shadows. No friendly lamp surmounts the gates to light and welcome the belated traveller. If not the disused portals of some derelict demesne swallowed up by the encroaching forest, they must surely guard the secret lair of sorcerer or ogre. Dimly the wall in which the gates are set can be descried, but nothing else is visible save a low tree upon which a pale moonbeam falls slantingly.
Nought is stirring in the forest, but the midnight stillness is pregnant with mystery. Magic influences are abroad, there is a sense of something untoward about to happen. Suddenly a queer little motif, already heard in the overture, assails the ear; the music glows (if the image be allowed) like an ember fanned; and shedding a golden effulgence all around, the Fire Bird floats downward through the trees. The radiant object vanishes almost as soon as it is seen; but hardly has it gone when a stir among the trees attracts attention, and a young man is seen looking over a low wall that adjoins the mysterious gates. He peers eagerly in the direction taken by the Fire Bird, then vaults the wall and dashes impetuously in pursuit. Such wondrous quarry was never seen before by mortal hunter, and lured by its splendour Ivan Tsarevitch has ventured far from beaten tracks, heedless in his infatuated quest of the danger into which his careless steps have strayed.
But as he dashes across the clearing he is arrested by a faint gleam of something in the moonlight. Wonder fills him as he sees that the tree, which alone of all surrounding objects is illumined, bears golden fruit. He is about to satisfy his curiosity by a closer inspection, when again there is warning of the Fire Bird’s approach.
Quickly Ivan takes refuge beneath the clustered branches of the tree, and from this place of concealment spies upon the glittering apparition of the Bird of Fire. Unwitting of his near proximity the latter disports itself gleefully in the open clearing. Twice it approaches the tree, as if to seize the golden fruit, and each time Ivan, for all his daring, is powerless to make the longed-for capture. The brilliant light which emanates from the radiant creature dazzles and perplexes him. But once more the Fire Bird nears the tree, and this time Ivan, with a sudden impulse, springs forward and boldly seizes the coveted quarry.
There follows a passage between captive and captor, which can scarcely be described as a dance, yet is something more than the mere acting of a scene. Desperately and repeatedly the Fire Bird strives to escape from the strong arms which imprison it; again and again the Prince, though hard put to it to retain the elusive creature in his grasp, frustrates these fluttering efforts. Though dancing, in the sense of rhythmic movement, is not the precise descriptive term for these expressive postures and motions, one needs it to convey the poetic sense of beauty which Karsavina here reveals. It is no easy thing to suggest the panic fears, the tremulous attempts at flight of a captured wild bird; yet by look, by pose, above all by gesture and the motion of quivering, restless arms and hands, the dancer subtly achieves that difficult effect.
Frantically the Fire Bird struggles to escape; determinedly, at each new effort, the strong arms renew their hold. Then the creature has resort to guile, luring its captor to look full upon its dazzling countenance. The ruse is nearly successful; half-blinded by his captive’s beauty the Prince’s grip relaxes, but he doggedly keeps his advantage and release is still denied.
A ransom only will suffice. With sudden gesture the Fire Bird plucks a gleaming feather from its body and holds it forth—a talisman against evil, and pledge of its owner’s aid in hour of need. The Prince, abashed, accepts it, and as he places it for
