“We shall view miracles of light ere long at the theatre. When M. Fortuny, son of the distinguished Spanish artist, has realised ‘his theatre’ we shall have glorious visions. Little by little the scenery encroaches upon the stage, and perhaps beautiful verses, well pronounced, will be worthy of all these marvels.
“It is certain that new capacities are developing in theatrical art, and that Miss Loie Fuller will have been responsible for an important contribution. I should not venture to say how she has created her light effects. She has actually been turned out by her landlord because of an explosion in her apparatus. Had she not been so well known she would have been taken for an anarchist. At this theatre, Rue des Batignolles, where I once witnessed the direst of melodramas that ever made popular audiences shiver, at this theatre, which has become elegant and sumptuous with its handsome, modernised decorations, at the Théâtre des Arts, she has installed her footlights, her electric lamps, all this visual fairyland which she has invented and perfected, which has made of her a unique personality, an independent creator, a revolutionist in art.
“There, on that evening when I saw her rehearse Salome in everyday clothes, without costume, her glasses over her eyes, measuring her steps, outlining in her dark robe the seductive and suggestive movements, which she will produce to-morrow in her brilliant costume, I seemed to be watching a wonderful impresaria, manager of her troupe as well as mistress of the audience, giving her directions to the orchestra, to the mechanicians, with an exquisite politeness, smiling in face of the inevitable nerve-racking circumstances, always good-natured and making herself obeyed, as all real leaders do, by giving orders in a tone that sounds like asking a favour.
“‘Will you be good enough to give us a little more light? Yes. That is it. Thank you.’
“On the stage another woman in street dress, with a note-book in her hand, very amiable, too, and very exact in her directions and questions, took the parts of John the Baptist, half nude, of Herod in his purple mantle, of Herodias magnificent under her veils, and assumed the function of regisseur (one cannot yet say regisserice). And I was struck by the smoothness of all this performance of a complicated piece, with its movements and various changes. These two American women, without raising their voices, quietly but with the absolute brevity of practical people (distrust at the theatre those who talk too much), these two women with their little hands fashioned for command were managing the rehearsal as an expert Amazon drives a restive horse.
“Then I had the immense pleasure of seeing this Salome in everyday clothes dance her steps without the illusion created by theatrical costume, with a simple strip of stuff, sometimes red and sometimes green, for the purpose of studying the reflections on the moving folds under the electric light. It was Salome dancing, but a Salome in a short skirt, a Salome with a jacket over her shoulders, a Salome in a tailor-made dress, whose hands—mobile, expressive, tender or threatening hands, white hands, hands like the tips of birds’ wings—emerged from the clothes, imparted to them all the poetry of the dance, of the seductive dance or the dance of fright, the infernal dance or the dance of delight. The gleam from the footlights reflected itself on the dancer’s glasses and blazed there like flame, like fugitive flashes, and nothing could be at once more fantastic and more charming than these twists of the body, these caressing motions, these hands, again, these dream hands waving there before Herod, superb in his theatrical mantle, and observing the sight of the dance idealised in the everyday costume.
“I can well believe that Loie Fuller’s Salome is destined to add a Salome unforeseen of all the Salomes that we have been privileged to see. With M. Florent Schmitt’s music she connects the wonders of her luminous effects. This woman, who has so profoundly influenced the modes, the tone of materials, has discovered still further effects, and I can imagine the picturesqueness of the movements when she envelops herself with the black serpents which she used the other evening only among the accessories behind the scenes.”
That evening between the two scenes, M. Claretie again spoke of my book; and, to sum up, it is thanks to his insistence that I decided to dip my pen in the inkwell and to begin these “memoirs.” It was a long task, this book was, long and formidable for me. And so many little incidents, sometimes comic and sometimes tragic, have already recurred during the making of this manuscript that they might alone suffice to fill a second volume.
OLD FAMILY RECORDS
