A. E. Johnson

“ This much the spectator is permitted, at the lifting of the curtain, to apprehend. The stillness is noted, lasting for just that brief but appreciable moment which invests it with significance, and makes dominant that note of phantasy, of unreality, which the opening strains of music sounded. The illusion achieved, the spell of stillness is broken. A woman, one of those whose watchful gaze has been directed through the window, stirs. It is the merest gesture, but a gesture eager, alert: and on the instant, though none other yet moves, the scene becomes instinct with life. ”

“ Pétrouchka, half urged by passion, half intimidated by force, and wholly at a loss, takes refuge in a futile demonstration, which has not the least effect. Gloating, like a true bully, over the discomfiture of his rival, the Blackamoor hustles him to the door, and with a vicious kick sends him flying across the threshold. Boastfully jeering at his defeated enemy, he executes, as the curtain comes down, a loutish dance of triumph.{29}
Meanwhile the fair, to which the action of the ballet returns in the concluding scene, is still in progress. ”

“ The goddess is enthroned; the god, with reedy pipe in hand, sits with legs and upraised arms bent angularly—a painted Hindu sculpture come to life.
Stepping from the lotus, the Blue God raises and supports the amazed and awe-struck girl. Then, as confidence returns, he gently seats her beside the pool, and before the uneasy monsters begins a solemn dance. Dance it must be called, though it is rather a series of postures—postures which, executed in the flesh, vivify for the onlooker all that he has ever seen in Hindu art purporting to represent the human figure. ”

“ Nothing is subdued; it is the very occasion, as the spectator thrills to feel, for passions to be loosed, unbridled and untamed.
Something of the same inspiration seems to have prompted Balakirev’s music, which not only hurries the swift drama to its impending climax, but seems charged with a sensuous violence of its own that enhances, to a point of fascination almost dreadful, the orgy of passionate intoxication on the stage.
Thamar is an exciting experience. In the first few bars of the short prelude which precedes the rising of the curtain the note of mystery, of eerie phantasy, is struck. ”

“ Movements may have an intrinsic grace and beauty, as words that utter no meaning may possess a splendour of sound. But the dance is to movement what language is to words: it implies selection and co-ordination for the purpose of expressing something—in this case the very essence of the sentimental emotions which the vibrant music of the strings evokes. Never was the ecstasy of the valse so irresistibly expressed. Leaping, swaying, its whole being abandoned to the intoxicating rhythm, the dancing phantom seems to draw the very power which animates it from the music’s throbbing pulse. ”

“ The fires of passion smouldering in the breast of Zobéide leap forth on the instant. A woman scorned or a woman denied—her fury is a thing few men, and least of all an emasculate poltroon, can face. A frightful paroxysm shakes the panting queen. Like a tigress baulked of her prey, she turns upon the grovelling creature who dares to thwart her thus, hardly restrained from flinging herself upon him. To a contest of wills so unequal one ending only is possible. The wretched eunuch cringes before this awful apparition of his royal mistress, all other terrors swamped by the urgency of present fear. ”

“ The stranger’s cloak and high-crowned hat are removed, and he stands revealed—handsome, well-favoured, a very proper figure of a man. He gazes about him rapt in admiration and delight, but ere he can espy again the figure of the arch enchantress, a group of dancing girls advances and encircles him. The graceful measures which they tread distract his attention as he stands, pleased and diverted, in their midst.
The bevy of girls gives way to a more potent allurement. Thamar herself, darting forward, now begins a dance of fascination before the stranger’s eager eyes. ”

“ There are features in this ballet which one could spare not less gladly than the miraculous flower in “Narcisse.”
Certainly “Le Dieu Bleu” has many beauties. It shows us, in a multiplicity of radiant dresses massed against a background of daring colour and design, a rich vein in the decorative art of Léon Bakst. It shows us Karsavina in a part that gives full play to the fierce and passionate quality in her miming. But chiefly it is an excuse for the preciosity of Nijinsky. There is something more than the mere accomplished dancer in that remarkable personality. ”

“ In the midst of her companions the Queen Swan, unchallenged in the supremacy of her charms, completes the fascination she has already exercised upon the too susceptible Prince. With infatuated gaze he hangs upon her every movement, drinking in her beauty, the grace of her dancing, the elegance of her form. Every moment that she pauses, while her companions continue the movement of the dance, he woos her passionately, urging his suit with an eagerness that increases as the reluctance which she strives to maintain appears to give way. ”

“ Hardly has the Queen Swan fled when her companions enter—a score of maidens in similar attire, scarcely less fair than their leader. As is their nightly practice, they dance in the moonlit glade, but have scarce begun when the Prince’s friend, followed by the huntsmen and attendants, break in upon these mystic revels. The swan-maidens, frightened, fly to one another for mutual protection, while the intruders, scarce knowing what to make of such unexpected objects of the chase, finger their weapons hesitatingly. ”

“ Wonderful mime that she is, I doubt whether Karsavina in any rôle excels her impersonation of the feline Thamar. Her every movement, under its sinuous grace, has that suggestion of stealth which fascinates while it affrights. From the moment that the guileless stranger is brought before her—for there is that in her attitude, as she awaits his coming, which proclaims him not guest, but victim—till the fierce climax, she never relaxes the tension under which his apprehension of her close-pent, volcanic energy places the spectator. ”

“ On one side of her is the Blackamoor, a fierce and swarthy fellow, resplendent in green and gold, with gorgeous turban on his head; on the other, poor Pétrouchka, a grotesque figure of fun tricked out in glaring and fantastic motley.
Such are the three puppets which the ancient showman presents to the enthralled spectators—and puppets only, mere things of tinsel and sawdust, they seem as the curtains are drawn aside. They hang limply upon their supports, not making even of lifelessness other than a puppet’s feeble travesty. ”

“ It is unfortunate, perhaps, that the assimilative Russians, when they play the sedulous ape, do so with such polished ease and aplomb. Their cleverness amuses, even if it fails to impress. In sheer theatrical effect this ballet of Salome is quite dazzling. Its bizarre decoration, and the eccentricity of the action, capture the eye, as the music captures the ear, by sheer audacity of assault. It is only when a conclusion is reached that the whole appears to have been a profitless, if dazzling diversion. ”

“ Once more the neophyte, led this time by the high priest in person, is paraded before the seated watchers: once more he is obliged to pass the girl who embodies all that life has held for him in the past, before ambition and the lust of sacerdotal power turned him from love and joy. She alone might have the key, perchance, to unlock the door he has so resolutely shut. She has the key, and with a courage born of desperate abandon to love and passion she dares to use it. She breaks from her place, and fiercely casts herself at her whilom lover’s feet. ”

“ The lilt of the music, the throbbing rhythm of the dance, complete the spell which Thamar’s beauty has begun. With eyes intent only upon the face of his enchantress, the stranger puts the potion to his lips. As he sets the wine cup down, Thamar eludes the embrace he proffers and glides away. The youth pursues her through the whirling ranks of dancers, but at a sign from Thamar the women take him by the hand and lead him from the chamber. ”

“ Thamar, watching him intently, is swept past all restraint and casts dissimulation aside. Swiftly she darts upon him, and joins him in the dance. The swaying measure which they foot in concert sets their pulses throbbing to the point beyond endurance. As the music swells in volume, the women are caught by the intoxication of the moment, and as the armed men in their turn join the dance, the stranger finds himself supporting the form of Thamar in their midst. The moment of ecstasy, of abandon, is reached. ”

“ Vaguely there stir within him the passions and emotions of a man—blind feelings to which he strives mutely, ineffectually, to give expression. He has learned to suffer—and no more.
The black rectangular chamber which the newly rising curtain shows us is that portion of the squalid puppet-box which forms Pétrouchka’s home. Through the door that flies open the showman’s clumsy boot is seen, and the flimsy figure of the hapless doll, ridiculous in his pied and motley clothes, is impelled through the opening by a cruel kick. ”

“ There is no scenery; merely an immense green curtain for background, and for furniture a couple of odd little striped{55} sofas. The bareness of the stage, the great height of the curtain behind, have the effect of dwarfing the figures of the dancers; the elimination of all superfluous detail produces a needed concentration of attention on their movements. There being no dramatic action to unfold, sentiment rather than passion—and that of the most artificial kind—being the matter for portrayal, gesture and the dance are here submitted to the severest test as means of expression. ”

“ Once more the sense of fantastic unreality asserts itself in the spectator’s mind. Mere ghouls, dread phantoms in human form, this dazzling throng of courtiers—not creatures of warm flesh and blood as in the midst of their simulated revelry he had almost deemed them. Thamar alone exhibits emotion. It is not remorse, however, which sets her shivering as with an ague, and turns her knees to water. Reaction must follow action, and the hideous spectre that treads so close upon the heels of indulgence has her in its grip. The hour has passed, the supreme moment has gone ”

“ Then, in obedience to the high priest’s directions, the door of a cavern in the side of one rocky cliff is unlocked, and the janitors depart. The girl is left alone, and in the dreadful silence which ensues she collapses in terror before the lotus pool.
The shrine is bathed in moonlight, when at length the prostrate girl rouses herself from the torpor of despair. Her wits returning, she seeks a way of escape. She tries the gates, but they are fastened close and withstand her frenzied shaking. Vainly she looks for other outlet: the high walls are insurmountable. ”

“ As presently she lays herself upon the couch, her women sink to rest upon their cushions.
Thus from supreme climax the action of the ballet subsides gradually to statuesque immobility once more. Stillness broods over the quiet figures of Thamar and her women. Realisation comes suddenly to the spectator that the scene is now identical with that which the lifting curtain first disclosed. And at that moment of quick apprehension—a woman stirs! In a flash of inspiration the spectator’s eye, outrunning the action on the stage, foresees the inevitable happening. ”

“ The hour for revelry has come, for reckless abandon to the impulse of the moment. Enters a retinue of youths and girls bearing fruits and other dainties upon gorgeous salvers. They pair among themselves, they dance, they bring a riotous infection into the atmosphere of languorous dalliance. The negroes and their fond mistresses are moved to join them, the silver and the copper ornaments gleaming amidst the whirl of multi-coloured draperies, as the fever of the dance increases. Springing from the couch, Zobéide’s favourite precipitates himself into the moving throng. ”

“ The rites proceed, and Ta-hor, with aching heart, must resume her place amongst the dancers. Amoûn, feeding the fires of passion in the shadowy background, is forgotten as the dance goes on its way. Suddenly, on a strident note, an arrow quivers in the ground beside the queen’s divan. The dancers cease abruptly, soldiers dart forward, consternation and amazement seize the whole court. Cleopatra alone remains unmoved. Not a muscle of her body twitches, not a flicker of emotion is discernible in her face. ”

“ The detailed movements of this tribal dance are of no great moment. What is of interest is the robust expression which they give to the virile impulses of an untamed race, not yet sapped by civilisation of its vigour. The movements, violent in themselves, are executed with a vehemence and energy significant in its savage spontaneity. One has a sense of latent joy in violence, of every shape and form, for violence’ own sake. ”

“ In a last paroxysm of fright the girl falls prostrate before the lotus pool. The monsters range themselves around, motionless, but vigilant and intent. But as their victim, bethinking herself of prayer, pours forth a passionate entreaty to the deities of the place, they stir uneasily and presently retire, writhing, a distance of some paces. A brilliant blue light irradiates the pool, the lotus flower that floats within it opens, and slowly there rise into view the god and goddess, tutelary spirits of the shrine. ”