Yet greater success followed in “Le Jugement de Pâris,” the honours therein, however, being shared with Cerito and Taglioni. This appearance was in connection with one of the most striking sensations of the theatrical season of 1848 (certainly the most remarkable in the history of ballet, save for the famous Pas de Quatre of three years before), namely, the Pas des Déesses, which was performed in the presence of Her Majesty Queen Victoria.
Even the Russians of our day never evoked greater excitement or enthusiasm than that which greeted the appearance of these three great dancers of the ’forties in one ballet. A contemporary critic, contrasting the production with that of the former Pas de Quatre remarked that “for poetry of idea and execution the Pas des Déesses has decidedly the advantage,” and goes on to say: “Besides this, though the attention is principally directed to the three great danseuses, yet the grouping is rendered far more effective by the addition of other actors.
“The Pas des Déesses has another recommendation; it is longer, and the intervals while the three ‘stars’ are resting themselves, are filled up by the charming butterfly steps of Louise Taglioni, and the most incredible feats on the part of St. Leon and Perrot. In fact, all here surpass themselves—of Taglioni, Grahn, Cerito, each in turn seems to obtain the advantage—though, of course, the palm is finally adjudged by each spectator accordingly as his taste is originally inclined. For ourselves, as critics, obliged to put away all previous predilections, we are compelled to confess that each in her peculiar style, in this pas, reaches the ne plus ultra of her art, and each is different.
“Though the styles of Taglioni and Lucille Grahn at first sight would seem to be identical, yet they have both their own peculiar characteristics. The buoyant energy of Grahn contrasts with that peculiar quietness that marks Taglioni’s most daring feats, while Cerito, who by her very smallness of stature, seems fitted by nature for another style of dancing, bounds to and fro, as though in the plenitude of enjoyment. We have never seen either of these great danseuses achieve such wonders as in this pas. The improvement of Lucile Grahn is, above all, marvellous; she introduces a step entirely new and exquisitely graceful; and, though it must be of most difficult achievement, she executes it with an ease and lightness which gives her the appearance of flying. It is a species of valse renversée on a grand scale. One of the most effective moments with Cerito is that in which she comes on with St. Leon, executing a jetés battus in the air, and, at the same moment, turning her head suddenly to catch a sight of the much-desired apple. This never fails to elicit thunders of applause, and an encore.
“As for Taglioni, after taking the most daring leaps in her own easy and exquisitely graceful manner, she flits across the stage with a succession of steps, which, though perfectly simple, are executed with such inconceivable lightness and such enchanting grace, as invariably to call forth one of the most enthusiastic encores we ever remember to have witnessed; in fact, from beginning to end of the divertissement, all the spectators are kept in a state of excitement, which finds vent in clappings, in shoutings, and bravas, occasionally quite deafening.”
The reference to the styles of Taglioni and Lucile Grahn as being almost “identical” is made additionally interesting by the discerning manner in which the critic contrasts the “buoyant energy of Grahn” with that “peculiar quietness” that marked Taglioni’s most daring efforts.
Both had studied in the traditional school and to that extent were bound to be somewhat similar. Their differences were due to physique and temperament, Grahn, the fair Dane, was somewhat heavier in build, had always been stronger and was also younger than Taglioni, who, weakly in childhood, had always been of more raffinée build and temperament, and was now perhaps a shade less energetic than in the days when she had delighted London with her earliest appearances some fifteen years before. Still, that “peculiar quietness” had always distinguished her and was that very quality which had made her so ideal an exponent of “Sylphide.”
Lucile Grahn, who was tall, slim, with blue eyes and blonde hair, was said, as regards her dancing, to possess “less strength than Elssler, less flexibility than Taglioni, but more of both than anyone else.”
She appeared in London each season until 1848, when the arrival of Jenny Lind created such a craze for Opera—and for Jenny Lind—that Ballet temporarily lost its attraction for London audiences. She comes close to our own times, for she died at Munich in the spring of 1907.