The word is derived from the Italian intrecciare, to weave or braid. The French compound it with numerals, to indicate the number of times the feet cross: as, entrechat-quatre, entrechat-six, entrechat-huit. The number includes the movements of each foot; an entrechat-huit implies four crossings. Prodigious stories are told about the number of beats that various artists have accomplished in their entrechat. It forms an attractive centre for choreographic myths. In general, the number of beats said to have been accomplished by a given artist is in direct ratio to the number of years that artist has been dead. In reality there is small object in going beyond an entrechat-six; the three crossings (always assuming performance by a master of the technique) are quite sufficient to prove that the law of gravity has ceased to exist. When their staccato twinkle is added as a finish to the long pendulum swing of a big glissade, or a long jeté en tournant, the effect is that of a swift pizzicato following a long-sustained note—always surprising, always merry.
Changement, 39; entrechat-quatre, 40; brisé dessus, 41; brisé dessous, 42. In the brisé dessus, the active foot beats in front of the passive foot; in the brisé dessous, behind it.
The brisé is of the category of movements executed while both feet are off the floor. It is so closely related to the entrechat-quatre that the layman who can distinguish between the two, during the speed of performance, may conscientiously congratulate himself on having developed a passably quick and sure eye. The difference between the two lies in this: that in the brisé only one foot really “beats”; the other makes only a slight complementary or counter-movement. Starting as it does in an open position, it lends itself to the embellishment of broad leaps.
The balloné is, in a broad sense, related to the beating steps; its accent, however, is on the up-stroke, which makes it a kick. Start in third position; pliez slightly (as preparation); jump, and simultaneously kick forward, bending the knee in raising the leg, straightening it when it has reached the necessary height; usually the balloné leads into another step.
(As this description is at variance with that of two eminent choreographic writers, it should be added that it is made from the step as demonstrated and explained by Sr. Luigi Albertieri, ballet-master of the Century Opera Company, an unquestioned authority; his traditions are those of La Scala, and of Sr. E. Cecchetti. Mlle. Louise La Gai, former pupil of Leo Staats, one-time ballet-master of l’Opéra, demonstrates the step in the same manner.)
A phrase of steps (enchainement) is rarely made up of big or difficult steps exclusively; the value of the latter would soon be lost in monotony were they not contrasted with work of a simpler nature. The pas de bourrée and the pas de Basque are among the little steps useful in furnishing such contrasts, in giving the dancer a renewed equilibrium, and in the capacity of connecting links between other steps. They are like prepositions in a sentence—insufficient in themselves, but none the less indispensable.