“Ballets, being regular representations, ought to unite the various parts of the drama. Most of the subjects, adapted to the dancer, are devoid of sense, and exhibit only a confused jumble of scenes, equally unmeaning and unconnected; yet it is in general absolutely necessary to confine oneself within certain rules. The historical part of a ballet must have its exposition, its incidents, its dénouement. The success of this kind of entertainment chiefly depends on choosing good subjects, and dealing with them in a proper manner.”
The above brief quotations are all of interest as bearing on particular points in dancing and ballet-composition, but I cannot refrain from giving one more and a lengthier excerpt, the sound common sense of which applies to-day and will appeal to all modern dancers who realise that the finest opportunities of displaying their skill are, and can only be, found in ballets worthy of their art.
“Every ballet,” he says, “complicated and extensive in its subject, which does not point out, with clearness and perspicuity, the action it is intended to represent, the intrigue of which is unintelligible, without a program or printed explanation: a ballet, in fine, whose plan is not felt, and appears deficient in point of exposition, incident and dénouement; such a ballet, I say, will never rise, in my opinion, above a mere divertissement of dancing, more or less commendable from the manner in which it is performed. But it cannot affect me much, since it bears no particular character, and is devoid of expression.
“It may be objected that dancing is now in so improved a state that it may please, nay, enchant without the accessory ornaments of expression and sentiment.... I readily acknowledge that, as to mechanical execution, the art has attained the highest degree of perfection: I shall even confess that it sometimes is graceful: but gracefulness is but a small portion of the qualities it requires.
“What I call the mechanical parts of dancing are the steps linked to each other with ease and brilliancy, the aplomb, steadiness, activity, liveliness, and a well-directed opposition between the arms and legs. When all these parts are managed without genius, when the latter does not direct these different motions, and animate them by the fire of sentiment and expression; I feel neither emotion nor concern. The dexterity of the dancer obtains my applause; I admire the automaton, but I experience no further sensation. It has upon me the same effect as the most beautiful line, whose words are uncouthly set asunder, producing sound, not sense. As for instance, what would a reader feel at hearing the following detached words: Fame-lives-in-dies-he-cause-who-in-virtue’s? Yet these very words aptly joined by the man of genius, by Shakespeare, express the noblest sentiment:
‘He lives in Fame who dies in Virtue’s cause.’
“From the above comparison we may fairly conclude that the art of Dancing has in itself all that is necessary to speak the best language, but that it is not enough to be acquainted only with its alphabet. Let the man of genius put the letters together, form the words, and from these produce regular sentences; the art shall no longer be mute, but speak with true energy, and the ballets will share with the best dramatic pieces the peculiar advantage of exciting the tenderest feelings; nay, of receiving the tribute of a tear; while, in a less serious style, this art will please, entertain and charm the spectators. Dancing thus ennobled by the expression of sentiment, and under the direction of a man of true genius, will, in time, obtain the praises which the enlightened world bestows on poetry and painting, and become entitled to the rewards with which the latter are daily honoured.”
The closing lines of the above are so curiously prophetic one questions whether we have not already reached the period when an “enlightened world” bestows on dancing—at any rate on dancers—the “rewards” with which poetry and painting have been (or ought to have been) hitherto honoured.