Drawing Room Dances by
Henri Cellarius Chapter 2
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II.
STAGE DANCES, AND DANCES OF THE BALL-ROOM.
The works published upon dancing in France and in other countries, would of themselves form a library.
It must nevertheless be observed that the greater part of these, treat almost exclusively of theatrical
dancing, of ballets, and of all that regards chorography. In some of them only we find a few passages,
and those very succinct, upon the dances of the drawing-room, of which however the history in every age would be
matter of curious interest. I think I have found out the cause of the rarity of works more especially
dedicated to the study and teaching of fashionable dancing. For a long time, and even in the present day,
people have confounded, or at least have not distinguished with sufficient clearness, the fashionable dance
from the dance of the theatre. They have considered country-dances, quadrilles, the steps, or different kinds
of dance adopted by private individuals at each epoch, as a derivative, and—so at speak—as a
diminutive of the ballets and steps executed by professional dancers. It must be admitted, however, that the
fashionable dances have often assisted this confusion, for there is scarcely one of them, which is exclusively
adapted to the drawing-room, or which does not more or less partake of the scenic character. In our day,
I do not hesitate to declare—and it is one of the principal foundations of my book—that the
drawing-room dance, according to the new character which has invested it within the last few years,
is almost entirely independent of that of the theatre. It has its peculiar steps and action, and which
have scarcely any thing in common with what is applauded on the stage. This opinion is built with me
on the evidence of facts, and also, as I believe, on the simple law of reason.
We may easily imagine that the most elegant or graceful waltzers could not be transplanted from a
drawing-room to the stage, without losing a portion
of their halo. In the same way theatrical people, wishing to attempt private dances, would run a
great risk of exaggerating them, and even of falsifying their real character, unless they had previously
undergone an especial practice. I do not, however, mean by this to depreciate the theatrical dance,
nor in the least to derogate from the divine art of the Taglioni, the Essler, and the Grisi; but the old adage,
which says "who can do the more, can do the less,"
is not literally true in regard to the dance. In fact, why should not the graces of the drawing-room
and of fashionable life, differ from those of the stage, which are of necessity more studied, and in
some respects of a graver character? And if it be true that a stage-dancer, accustomed to the grand
difficulties of the art, is not capable of displaying the peculiar ease and freedom requisite to a
mazurka or a waltze à deux temps, ought we not rather to praise than blame him? My purpose
then is not to draw here any parallel between the dance of the drawing-room and that of the stage;
I only wish it to be understood that they are different from each other, a fact which seems to me to
assist in explaining the neglect of the ancient dances and the adoption of the new.
The change of manners and costume, the vicissitudes of fashion, and above all the demands of modern freedom,
have no doubt greatly contributed to the neglect of the studied dance, which was in vogue but a few
years ago; but must we not also reckon among the causes of its falling into disuse the approximation,
almost always disadvantageous, that existed between it and the stage-dance, of which it was for the most
part only an imperfect copy? And the young people of the present day, who are so often accused of walking
instead of dancing—are they so very wrong in abandoning the entrechals and all the complicated steps
formerly in use, which had the singular inconvenience of recalling under a form necessarily imperfect, and
often even ridiculous, that which was every day executed on the boards of a theatre with all the perfection of the art?
We may ask them if it is caprice only, as many have said, that has substituted the modern for the studied dance,
the former having for its principal characteristic, ease, nature, and freedom of motion, all of them qualities
that we may consider inherent in people of fashion? To better indicate the difference, which seems to me to exist
between the two, I shall venture to quote myself; and of course I need not warn my readers that a professor of
dancing cannot have any of the pretensions belonging to the virtuoso or the artist. It is true that I have known
enough of stage-dancing to practice as an artist both in France and in other countries; but, when I resolved to
devote myself entirely to teaching, I wished to execute myself the new style that I had to impart to my pupils,
for which purpose it was requisite to undertake a peculiar study, and
although this had been without doubt much simplified by my predecessors, still it was not the less special and
important. I had to efface in my steps and manners whatever was too theatrical, to substitute in many cases simplicity
to studied grace, and to take no longer for models the great artists of the stage, but the dancers and waltzers
of the drawing-room, who would allow me to learn from them that style which was often
the result of instinct and natural good taste.
The change introduced into the character of dancing could not but extend itself to teaching.
Routine formerly played the chief part; it was sufficient to make the pupil execute some traditional
steps, certain conventional exercises, for the most part devised by the dancing academies, and which
in general required very little imagination on the part of the professor. Now a-days before forming the dancer
especially for the drawing-room, the master has, if I may so express myself, to introduce much more of his own.
He must chiefly rely upon his tact and discernment to regulate the exercises of his pupils in harmony with
their dispositions, to modify at need the execution of such, or such a dance according to the capabilities
of every one, and in a word to substitute the principles of nature and good taste for methodical traditions.
These ideas, which I now only casually glance at, will be naturally developed in the course of my work.
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Drawing Room Dances by
Henri Cellarius Chapter 2
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