The Mazourka Valse, commonly called the Cellarius Valse

• Era: 1840s-1870s

La valse mazurka, dite la Cellarius.  The Waltze-Mazurka, called the Cellarius.  The Mazourka Valse, commonly called the Cellarius Valse. La Cellarius.  The dance is described repeatedly and variously in dance manuals from the 1840s through the 1870s, generally referred to by the name of its composer, famed Parisian dancing master Henri Cellarius.

The mazurka proper was brought from Eastern Europe to the fashionable ballrooms of Paris and London in the early decades of the nineteenth century.  The original form of the mazurka was that of an improvised quadrille, with one gentleman in the set calling the figures on the spot and the other couples following his lead.  The difficulty of the steps combined with that of finding enough skilled dancers to make up a set was seen as overwhelming.  One popular solution was pre-choreographed quadrilles, which several dancing masters composed, but as London dance teacher Mrs. Nicholas Henderson noted in her early 1850s dance manual:

...a Quadrille requiring eight persons or four couples to dance it, and the figures of the Mazourka being extremely intricate and too difficult for private parties, the idea suggested itself to M. Cellarius, of Paris, to change the form of the dance, and convert the Quadrille into a Valse, preserving the original step.  This was no sooner done than it became the fureur of the Parisian circles, and it received the name of the Cellarius Valse, in compliment to the composer, although the proper name is the Mazourka Valse, in contradistinction to the Mazourka Quadrille.

Cellarius himself claims the dance; a contemporary English translation of his manual of 1847 (written in French) has him stating that

It appeared to me that the step of the mazurka was adapted also to the waltze, and that by mingling other steps with it, but always in the character of the dance, it would be possible to compose a waltze of a perfectly novel kind, which might be executed at times, when the company was not numerous enough to form a complete mazurka. This waltze might also be advantageously introduced amongst the cotillons, when the approach of the conclusion renders a more animated movement almost indispensable to the dancers.

My pupils would have this waltze called after me, and have named it the Cellarius. I had no choice but with all humility to accept this honour; to have declined it would, I think, have been on my part much more an affectation than an act of modesty.

He goes on to modestly refuse to discuss how successful it was.  Other dancing masters were not so shy.  The dance was an immediate success in Paris.  Mrs. Henderson and fellow London dancing master Eugène Coulon rushed to introduce it in London, and both remembered the occasion in writing their own manuals in the 1850s, though there is some confusion over the precise year.  Coulon writes:

This dance was composed by Monsieur Cellarius, in Paris, and introduced by me in London, at the Polish Ball, in the City, in 1844, having Mrs. Henderson for my partner.

In a different part of his manual, Coulon specifies that it was the December of 1844.  Mrs. Henderson gives a more detailed description of the occasion:

As soon as it was found to be fashionable in Paris, it was the object of the profession in England to acquire a knowledge of the dance.  M. Coulon, of London, therefore hastened to Paris in 1845, a few days before the annual Polish Ball, in order to procure it for that brilliant festival.  On his return, we danced it together before the Lord Mayor and seven or eight hundred persons.  This was the first occcasion [sic] on which the Cellarius Valse was danced in England…

The Cellarius was very favourably received at first, and became a general favourite.  Every one for a while seemed anxious to acquire it, being one of the most elegant dances that have lately been introduced.

Fortunately, all three of these dance teachers have left us descriptions of the dance, so those dancers today who are similarly anxious to acquire it may  easily do so!

The Cellarius consisted of three distinct parts, named by its composer the valse simple, the coup de talon, and the valse double.  Unlike the mazurka, which is danced primarily hand in hand, the Cellarius is danced in standard ballroom position.  Coulon clearly states:

The gentleman keeps his right arm round the lady's waist, as in the waltz, holding her right hand in his left.

The Valse Simple
While I am generally quoting Cellarius in period translation for this article, for this particular step, examining the original French is critical.  The first part of the dance is described by Cellarius as follows:

Le départ se fait du pied gauche par un temps levé de côté, et en glissant à la deuxième position; on pivote, en sautant sur le pied gauche et en enlevant la jambe droite pour recommencer de cette jambe. Voilà pour la première partie.

The contemporary English translation was given as:

The beginning is made with the left foot by a sliding step, and by sliding to the second position. You then pirouette, springing on the left foot, and raising the right to recommence with this leg. This is for the first part.

This translation direly mistranslates “un temps levé de côté”, or slight hop with extension to the side, as a “sliding step”.  This mistake will haunt the dance, as we shall see; some modern reconstructors, depending on the English translation, have interpreted the step as “slide for two beats then hop”, a move more reminiscent of the 1890s than the 1840s.  Coulon does not help matters:

The premier pas or step consists of two movements--1st, of a temps levé, which occupies two-thirds of a bar, and of a sissonne, which should be well marked; the cavalier begins with his left foot forward, and the lady with her right forward.

Coulon’s “temps levé” appears to incorporate the sliding step described by Cellarius.  Fortunately, Mrs. Henderson writes more clearly, albeit from the perspective of the lady:

Spring with the left foot, at the same time sliding right foot forward (these two movements count two, in time). – then spring on the right foot (count one) – spring again on the right foot, at the same time sliding left foot forward (counting two) – spring again on the left foot (count one)…In these six steps one circle is completed.

The hop (or spring) and the slide are not actually simultaneous, but instead happen in quick sequence.  The step is quite recognizable in the context of dance explicitly adapted from the mazurka: it is the pas glissé or pas de mazurka, summarized in modern terminology as “hop-slide-hop”:

Count & Step
1   Hop on the rear foot (gent’s right, lady’s left)
2   Slide the first foot forward (gent’s left, lady’s right)
3   Hop on that foot, rear leg extended behind

Cellarius has adapted it into a turning dance; on the second count, the gentleman must slides his foot in front of and around the lady, while the lady slides her foot in a small step between the gentleman’s feet, for a half-turn which is then completed on the final hop.  In the second bar of the music the step is repeated starting on the other foot and with the lady sliding her foot around the gentleman to complete the turn.  The full sequence is “hop-slide-hop, hop-slide-hop” for one complete turn.  This is the basic step given by Cellarius for the original mazurka and the basic turning step for his mazurka waltz.  Cellarius notes that this step may be executed

...to the right, to the left, in advance and backwards, the same as with the polka.

“To the right, to the left” in this case means turning in either direction; to turn in reverse (counter-clockwise), the gentleman should lead the lady strongly on the second step to slide her foot around and in front of him rather than his around her.  “In advance and backwards” means with either the lady or the gentleman backing straight up on along the line of dance.

The Coup de Talon
Cellarius does not give a detailed explanation of the second step of the Cellarius, instead referring back to his explanation of the mazurka itself:

The second part is performed by means of the beat of the heel, which I have already explained in the article on the mazurka. You then lengthen a side step without turning to recommence with the other leg. This step is made four times with one foot, and four times with the other.

The step is identical to the coup de talon of the mazurka proper:

Count & Step
1   Hop on the rear foot (gent’s right, lady’s left), bringing the other foot (gent’s left, lady’s right) in to click the heels in midair
2   Slide that raised foot (gent’s left, lady’s right) to the side into second position
3   Bring the rear foot up to close into first position

This is repeated four times leading with the same foot and then four times with the other.  Cellarius is not clear on what direction one dances the second set of coups; going directly against line of dance presents obvious problems in a ballroom.  One possible solution would be to perform the second set  “over elbows” along the line of dance, having used the last two counts (slide-close) of the fourth measure either to shift the lady in front of the gentleman and change their angle or, possibly, to make a half-turn. 

Cellarius suggests in his description of the mazurka that one may perform a “double coup de talon”;.  While he does not describe this, it is likely that he simply means to click the heels on the third beat of the step as well as the first, displacing the leading foot into the air.  The sequence becomes “click-slide-cut/click” rather than “click-slide-close”.  Coulon seems to be describing this version in his manual, and he reduces the number of repetitions of the step:

The second pas or step consists of three movements--the 1st, by tapping together the heels, while off the ground; 2nd, sliding one foot aside; 3rd, a jeté de coté, at the same time tapping the heels together. This step is done two or four times in square of the room.

Mrs. Henderson’s description is likewise of the two-click variety, though written as usual from the lady’s perspective.  She gives a sequence of two steps in one direction before reversing and uses a foot raised behind rather than a close for the change of direction:

Stand in the first position – spring on left foot, at the same time slightly striking both the heels together – slide right foot to the right, bending the knee (count two) – then bring left foot up to the place of the right foot with a slight hop, raising the right (count one) – then spring again on the left foot, striking the two heels, sliding right foot to the right (count two), falling on the right foot and raising the left behind (count one).  Then spring on the right foot, and reverse the whole of the second part.

The Valse Double
The third step of the Cellarius is unusual in being a four-bar (double length; hence the name) sequence with half-turns or changes of angle (Cellarius does not specify) on the first and third bars.  Cellarius writes rather unclearly both in the original and its contemporary translation:

For the third part, you execute the two pas de deport [sic], that I have pointed out in the first. After the second step, when the left leg is in air, and you are on the extreme end of the foot, you give at the conclusion of the bar a coup de talon, short and well marked in chassant the right leg to the side, to recommence with the same.

Sorting out the description and its use of “pas” and “step” is somewhat challenging, and the French is no more clear than the English.  “Pas” and “step” here refer to the compound movement which is the pas glissé rather than to its component steps.  “After the second step” means on the last beat of the second bar.  It is not obvious on a casual reading whether “to recommence with the same” means to repeat by sliding the left foot again or whether “same” refers to the right foot referenced immediately before, but given that the right foot is raised at the end of the first repetition, the latter must be the correct interpretation, as it would be difficult to hop on the right foot when it’s in midair.  Coulon, as usual, does not add much:

The third pas or step consists of four movements -1st, of one temps levé; 2nd, a sissonne; 3rd, a temps levé; 4th, a jeté de cóté, at the same time tapping the heels.

Each of Coulon’s temps levé (incorporating the sliding step) take two beats; his sissonne is the hop (one beat); his final move is the coup de talon.

Mrs. Henderson once again writes more clearly than the gentlemen, as well as being clear on where the rear foot goes (tucked behind the first foot, rather than extended back) during the second hop:

Spring on left foot, at the same time sliding right foot to the right (counting two) – then hop on right foot, bringing left foot up behind to right foot (count one) – then spring on right foot, and slide left foot to the left (count two) – then bring right foot to left foot’s place with a slight hop, raising left foot (count one).

The description of the valse double in modern terminology would be “hop-slide-hop, hop-slide-cut”, with the cut (displacement of the foot one is standing on by kicking the other foot into its place) being performed with a click of the heels.  In period terms, this is a combination of a pas glissé and the third step of the mazurka, the pas boiteux.  The turn is made after each pas glissé, as described above under the valse simple, so the sequence is effectively:

Bar & Step
1   pas glissé (turning halfway)
2   pas boiteux (over elbows along the line of dance)
3   pas glissé (turning halfway)
4   pas boiteux (joined hands pointed along line of dance)

Cellarius does not actually specify that the valse double turns, and it would be possible to do the step backing the lady or gentleman along the line of dance by aiming each bar diagonally across the line of dance.  To back the lady, on the first bar, the gentleman angles his left shoulder diagonally forward; second and third bars, his right shoulder; fourth bar, his left shoulder again, for a sort of zigzag motion.  Reverse (gentleman angles left shoulder back) to back the gentleman.  But I feel that by naming it a "valse", Cellarius is strongly suggesting that the step turns.

Putting it Together
Coulon is, for once, utterly clear on combining the three parts of the Cellarius:

There is no fixed rule in dancing the different figures of this valse; the cavalier who knows how to vary them the oftenest will render the valse the most agreeable and the prettiest.

It is quite possible to lead the individual steps with a little practice.  Each step  begins with a hop and a slide.  The gentleman must be clear first on whether the slide is along the line of dance (for the coup de talon) or turning (for the valse simple or valse double) and second, if turning, on whether the final step will be a hop (valse simple) or cut (valse double); he may communicate this to the lady by either leaning into the leading foot for the hop or leaning back to cue a cut.

Tempo
Period tempo markings are contradictory, but Cellarius seems to feel his mazurka waltz is to be danced slightly more quickly than the mazurka, which is itself described as slower than a regular waltz.

The mazurka-waltze may be danced to all the airs of the mazurka, only the orchestra must take a more animated movement, and well emphasize the attack of every bar.

Mrs. Henderson concurs that it is slower overall than other dances of the era:

...the quick dances being so much in vogue, and the Cellarius being a slow and graceful dance, it has not been able to keep its ground with the Polka, Schottisch, and Deux Temps…This peculiarity of public taste is very much to be regretted, because, though the three round dances above mentioned have many agreeable characteristics to recommend them, still they are all quick and the tout ensemble only requires a slow and graceful variety, which the Cellarius Valse is well calculated to supply….The Cellarius is more like the old Valse in its time, and therefore, notwithstanding the gracefulness of the dance, it is not quite in harmony with the spirit of the revolution which has taken place in the art since the memorable year of 1843, when the Polka mania seized upon our toes. 

A slower tempo allows for a longer and more graceful gliding step; danced too quickly, the hops in sequence make for an unpleasant bobbing motion.

The decline and fall of the true Cellarius
Plagiarism was a way of life in the composition of 19th-century dance manuals, and Cellarius and Mrs. Henderson were both copied regularly.  Charles Durang, in The Fashionable Dancer’s Casket (Philadelphia, Baltimore, New York, Boston, 1856) quotes the English translation of Cellarius directly under “The Cellarius Waltz Mazourka” and then quotes Mrs. Henderson in “The Cellerius [sic] Valse”, albeit reversing the feet to present the gentleman’s step rather than the ladies.  The differences in the language of the two descriptions apparently fooled Durang into thinking he had two different dances!  Three manuals attributed to inventor Elias Howe (but probably compiled by the publishers) and published between 1858 and 1886 include the same reverse-feet Henderson quote, complete with the misspelling of Cellarius.  An Australian manual,  Roberts’ Manual of Fashionable Dancing (Melbourne, 1875) once again quotes the translated Cellarius directly in “The Waltz-Mazurka, called the Cellarius”. 

In defense of this plagiarism, at least it meant that the dance instructions were accurately transmitted.  Trying to rewrite could be a problem, as seen in Rudolph Radestock’s description of the Cellarius in The royal ball-room guide and etiquette of the drawing-room (London, c1877):

This is a very elegant and most improving dance. It was arranged and adapted by that eminent teacher of dancing, Mon. Cellarius, of Paris, from the steps of the mazourka; hence it is sometimes called Polka-Mazourka. It is done in turning, and the turn reversed; also without turning; that is, the gentleman going backward, the lady forward, and this reversed by the lady going back and the gentleman forward; also in doing two mazourka steps, then one polka step in turning half round at the end of every second bar. The music is the same as for the mazourka.

Radestock is at least original, but he incorrectly conflates the Cellarius with the Polka-Mazourka, a different dance entirely!

Many of the major dancing manuals of the mid-19th century, however, do not include the Cellarius at all, as the mazurka and mazurka waltz alike fell from favor in the era of the hoop skirt.  The Cellarius is absent from the works of Lawrence De Garmo Brookes (1867), William B. De Garmo (1865), Edward Ferrero (1859), Philippe Gawlikowski (1858), and Thomas Hillgrove (1857 and c1863).

Coulon, writing around 1860, was already pessimistic about the purity of the Cellarius:

Since that time [1844], it has been very much altered both as regards the time and  the steps; so much so, that the original dance can scarcely be recognized.

He had cause to worry:

Cellarius or Mazourka Waltz

This graceful dance is sometimes, though rarely, introduced as a feature in the programme du bal; we therefore give a description of the step…The time is that of the Valse à Trois Temps, but the more slowly the dance is played, the more graceful is the result.

The gentleman having half-encircled lady’s waist with right hand, takes her right hand in his left, slides forward with left foot and hops twice on it; then slides with right foot and hops twice on that.  Repeat this for sixteen bars, letting the movement be circular, as in the waltz, and getting half around during the two hops on each foot, the four completing the circle.

As formerly danced, there followed a movement which may be described as springing on each foot in succession, striking the heels, together, sliding, and so on – but this showy performance has gone out of date. 

At present, the dance concludes with a valse en glissade strongly marked.

The above description is found in four different anonymous dance manuals of the 1860s and 1870s:

The Ball-Room Guide, London, 1866 (pub Frederick Warne and Co.)
Beadle’s Dime Ball-Room Companion, New York, c1868 (pub Beadle and Company)
The Dancer’s Guide and Ball-Room Companion, New York, c1875 (pub Frank M. Reed)
How to Dance, New York, 1878 (pub Tousey & Small)

Remember the mistranslation in the 1847 English version of Cellarius described above under the valse simple in which the first movement was mistranslated as a “sliding step”?  Here we may have the result: hop-slide-hop has been rearranged to slide-hop-hop, an easy error for the student to make (indeed, I’ve seen it happen live when I’ve taught this dance – if one falls slightly behind the beat, it is far too easy to fall into this version.)  The coup de talon has vanished from the dance (too showy) and the complexity of the valse double has been replaced by a simple glide waltz.  Cellarius, Mrs. Henderson, and Coulon, expert dancers and teachers all, were probably appalled, but the social reenactor who wished to be scrupulously correct might, if dancing the Cellarius at a ball set in the 1860s or 1870s, deliberately dance it as described above (a sequence of slide-hop-hop turns followed by a gliding waltz) rather than in the original version of the 1840s and 1850s.

By the 1880s the Cellarius (and the mazurka itself) had for the most part vanished from the dancing manuals and the ballrooms of Western Europe and America.

 

Major sources for this article quoted above are:

“La valse mazurka, dite la Cellarius”
Henri Cellarius, La danse des salons, 2nd Edition (1st Edition 1847), Paris, 1849

“The Waltze-Mazurka, called The Cellarius”
Henri Cellarius, The drawing-room dances, London, 1847

“The Mazourka Valse, commonly called The Cellarius Valse”
Mrs. Nicholas Henderson, Etiquette of the Ball-Room and Guide to all the New and Fashionable Dances, 3rd Edition, London, c1854

“La Cellarius”
Eugène Coulon, Coulon’s hand-book; containing all the last new and fashionable dances, 3rd Edition, London, c1860

Special thanks to Irene for her patient partnering as I worked through the reconstruction of the Cellarius!

Comments

[Abi]

I am not a dancer, but I find this a very interesting description of the development and evolution of the dance.

As a bookbinder, I see much the same thing in binding. I've created structures, taking known styles and adapting them to the present need. And I've watched the evolution of styles over time, as compromises and elisions become the new standards.

Fascinating to see it in another field.

(In other words, good post!)

[Marilee J. Layman]

Boy, that's a lot of hopping and springing! I always thought of the waltz as the standard move around on the ground.

[Susan de Guardiola]

Marilee:
There were many waltzes in the 19th century; the ones we have today are gliding versions of a waltz which originally had a lot more leaping (two out of three beats in every measure). There were some gliding ones as well which one can still see the remnants of in folk waltzes in various communities. There is no single dance that is "the" waltz, historically speaking; the diversity of 19thc waltzes could be a whole series of posts here at some point.

In any case, the Cellarius is adapted from a dance (the mazurka) to which the hopping and springing are integral. No conclusions about waltzing in general should be drawn from this particular dance.

[TexAnne]

Knowing as I do the ballet version...wow, the ballroom version is really very different!

(and the last step should be spelled "boiteux," BTW--"limping.")

[Susan de Guardiola]

TexAnne:
Ooh, caught me in a spelling error! By the magic of blog ownership, I've gone back and fixed boiteux. It is indeed translated as the "limping step" or "hobble step", except that no one ever translated the names because it was fashionable to use French for dance terms. But dancing masters do discuss the the "limping" aspect - because the pas boiteux does not change feet, doing several in succession looks (sort of) like someone limping along.

Keep in mind that this is a dance derived from the mazurka and not the mazurka itself. Having watched the video you pointed me at, the ballroom and ballet versions or the mazurka actually have very noticeable connections - I could identify ballroom steps in the ballet performance.

[jennie1ofmany]

Re: the bounciness of nineteenth-century waltz.

A problem for the teacher or performer of historical dance is the very athletic nature of many of the dances popular in the period. Their athletic nature makes sense, in the context of the time, of course: these were the popular dances of the day, and therefore a feature of youth culture, much as, later, the charleston or (later still) the Lindy hop would be features of youth culture. Young people (young as in sixteen, not as in twenty-five, even) danced the waltz, the mazurka, the redowa, and the polka. Let us not even mention the galop.

Mrs. Henderson alludes to the appeal of fast, lively dances in the section Susan quoted:

...the quick dances being so much in vogue, and the Cellarius being a slow and graceful dance, it has not been able to keep its ground with the Polka, Schottisch, and Deux Temps…

Frequently the people who ask me to teach them these dances are, of a certain age, and experience some of the physical limitations that can become more unmanageable with age. They're less able to execute the steps or to perform them for any length of time, and it can be frustrating, negotiating the desire to learn the dances as performed and the physical limitations of the dancers—they got into this thinking that period dance, being old, would be sedate and stately, like the dances they remember their grandparents doing. What they don't realise, until they encounter the dances, is that their grandparents were young, once, and probably cut more capers when they were in their teens.

I often get people who want me to teach historical dance as they wish it had been, rather than as it appears to have been done.

[Susan de Guardiola]

Jennie:
they got into this thinking that period dance, being old, would be sedate and stately, like the dances they remember their grandparents doing

Rather like the people who think that Victorian underwear was yellowish-beige instead of white because they see the results of age and discoloration on antique garments!

I often get people who want me to teach historical dance as they wish it had been, rather than as it appears to have been done.

A constant, constant frustration, yes.

[Samuel Austin]

Hello!
Fist many thanks for your very usefull website !
About the Cellarius Valse I found this printed version (score and steps)

https://jscholarship.library.jhu.edu/handle/1774.2/24075

Regards from France,

Samuel
Belle-Ile-en-Mer

[Susan de Guardiola]

Belated thanks, Samuel!