The Natural History of the Ballet Girl (London, 1847) is one of a series of "Social Zoology" books written by the humorist Albert Smith, author of The Physiology of Evening Parties, which was quoted from in my earlier post about an article on the utility of the polka in flirtation. I was expecting this to be some sort of satire, but though it is often witty, it actually seems to be a fairly realistic look at the life of a ballet girl in the London theatre in the mid-nineteenth century. As Smith stated in the Preface:
Should any Gent imagine, from the title of this little book...that there is anything in it which might, with propriety, exclude it from the drawing-room table -- added to the commonly-circulated notions of the class we are about to write of -- then is that Gent mistaken...
In other words, there are no naughty opera dancers here, just respectable, hard-working dancers. Smith makes rather a point of this in a late chapter in which he describes the hardworking ballet girl at home with her iron preparing her gown (which she has likely made herself) for a ball:
If you were to take her by surprise on the morning of a ball, you would find her lodgings converted into a perfect miniature laundry, and you would possibly see her "getting up" the dress in which, at night, she intends to be the belle of belles. And the chances are the has made it herself...
Smith lived and studied in Paris, so his frequent comparisons of London ballet girls to hard-working Parisian grisettes might be drawn from his own experiences as a student there.
There is an isolated dance reference early on in the comparison of opening oysters properly to reversing in the valse à deux temps, both of these being arts that require long practice:
For it requires great coolness and decision of character to open oysters properly. It is an art learned only by long practice; like throwing at snuff-boxes, playing at the pea and thimble, cutting up ducks, and doing the reverse step in the Deux Temps, and may not be wildly undertaken.
The really interesting dance material, however, comes in Chapter VI, Of the Ballet-Girl at Soirees Dansantes, which describes an entire dance event, starting with the reason that ballet girls are such good dancers:
At the time when everybody was learning the Polka, several of the teachers of dancing selected three or four Coryphées from the theatres for the pupils to practice with; and in this matter they acquire a perfect knowledge of the deportment observed in average society. They learnt this readily, for they are naturally quick and perceptive. But they also know the best ballroom conduct of the highest classes: how they pick this up we will now see.
In Paris, Cellarius famously used opera dancers as teaching assistants, thereby attracting male students and worrying their mothers. Smith makes the connections between social and theatrical dancers and dancer-teachers explicit:
Mr. Henry is in the ballet at the Opera, and he married Mrs. Henry, formerly Miss Dott, from the Corps de Ballet; she is a quiet pretty little person with dark eyes and hair, and mother to one or two small Henrys, on the high-road to preferment as flying fairies. Mrs. Henry has sisters, also in the ballet, who will be at the ball; and have dances of their own every month or so.
The Henrys are mentioned in Smith's Physiology as well. I'm not sure whether they were real or merely realistic composites.
After a lengthy digression about the location of the Portland Rooms, Smith gives some amusing descriptions of the dancing. First, the "leading men" of the West End, London's theatre district, are dancing amidst a rather chaotic polka:
Amidst the confused throng of polkers--turning, chasing, and banging against each other in all directions--are many accustomed to flutter hearts in circles far different to the one in which they are now dancing with such indefatigable good temper. And many fair girls, whose veins swell with the gentlest blood in England, and whose names are in the most patrician divisions of the Blue Book, would give all their world for the tithe of attention which the cavaliers are bestowing upon the pretty Coryphées who are now their partners. Where it is that in escaping from the restrictions of the cold etiquette which they are called upon habitually to preserve, they give their pent-up spirits full play; or whether the very pleasure derived from plunging into the extreme of life's antitheses, is the incentive, we know not. But here they are, "taking the shine out" of the ruck of dancers in first-rate style, and completely winding up all the inspiring Gents who try to outdo them. For thoroughbred blood and build is as much inherent in men as in horses.
I love the use of "polkers" and the "banging against each other in all directions" bit that makes it clear that the polka of the 1840s was not yet a fully refined dance, at least in these circles.
The master of ceremonies was not the most polished individual:
The ceremonies of introduction at the Portland are not de rigeur: indeed they may almost be considered Arcadian, from their simplicity. A quadrille is formed, and the master of the ceremonies cries out, "Side couples wanted!" which always appears to be the case; and which he utters perpetually, wildly and mechanically, even before any one stands up...
The ballet girl particularly loves quadrille music taken from familiar operas, since she knows them well from her professional life:
You will be struck with the nice method of her dancing. She does not bow to her partner and then to the corners, as many of the company do: but her face beams with excitement as the Esmeralda quadrilles begin...for then she thinks of Carlotta, and her tambourine, and the joyous dance of the Truanda, in the Cour des Miracles, and all the stirring point of the most charming ballet ever composed. And now the Truandoise, she knows, will come in the L'Eté...and when that pretty air commences, it is only by great strength of mind that she can refrain from dancing the tripping pas appropriate to it; but one of the "Pets of the Guards" is her vis-a-vis and she maintains her usual deportment
Carlotta is the famous Carlotta Grisi, of course. The quadrille music was probably taken from the ballet La Esmeralda, which premiered in 1844 in London, starring Carlotta Grisi as Esmeralda.
The ballet girl dances the polka beautifully:
And now it is that the Ballet-girl with her cavalier distinguish themselves from the Snobs. For the latter social nuisances fling their legs about; and get in everybody's way; and turn their heads to the right and left shoulder alternately, as they twist about; and plunge; and dive; and commit every species of maniacal enormity: whilst you will see our graceful couple avoiding everybody--their heads over each other's right shoulders--their arms extended, and adroitly dropped when they anticipate a collision, moving easily about in all directions without one concussion.
I love that they mention dropping arms to avoid collisions. That's something that good social dancers do instinctively, but I can't recall seeing it actually stated straight out anywhere else.
There is a supper break; ballet girls require sustenance! Mr. Henry, who may or may not have been the master of ceremonies mentioned earlier, summons them back to the ballroom with a bit of an accent:
At last, when they have all eaten enough--which is not in a minute, for the Ballet-girl requires sustenance--they think of joining the ball again. "Polkar!" shouts Mr. Henry. "Take your partners for the Polkar!"
And they do, starting with the beginners, who grimly "go the entire Polka" regardless of their level of skill and the number of people in their way until the more elite dancers move onto the floor and display their skill at turning and reversing:
An after-supper Polka at the Portland Rooms is a thing to see. It generally commences with the pupils of the professional gentleman who gives the ball, many of whom have their hairs curled, and wear pumps and frock coats, and at times lay-down collars and Byron ties. These start off at first under great difficulties, as nobody will get out of the way and let them do their steps, which is a great point with them; for they go the entire Polka. And when they have knocked, and trodden, and kicked the idlers out of the way, then the élite come in with their stylish little partners, and take the shine out of all the others in marvelous style; making little steps, and acting on the very "confidential" manner of dancing with their arms out, and the fair little heads of their partners almost reclining against the coral studs of their elaborate cambric breastplates--in lieu of the steel they sometimes carry, and in which you may not see a few of them cased up in the corridor on Drawing-room days. They keep the centre of the room, where they are less likely to be upset, and turn and reverse in a manner "pleasant to behold," as Old Pepys would say, had he lived now to write his diary. Nor are they less graceful in Trenise or Pastorale. The Ballet-girl prefers Pastorale creeping up to their vis-a-vis with little steps and a position of similar confidence and sympathy.
Selling lemonade to parched dancers is a good business:
And by all this, and the crowd coming in after, there is kicked up such a mighty dust that one might almost imagine the rooms were never swept, by a connivance between the proprietor and the man who sells the lemonade down stairs, at sixpence a bottle, to wash out the throats of the Polkers.
A dance program is included, as shown at left (click to enlarge the image). The program is about what one would expect from dance manuals of the mid-1840s, confirming the overwhelming popularity of quadrilles and polkas, but with a smattering of other fashionable new dances and a few tried and true favorites.
There are eight quadrilles set to different music; the Esmeralda quadrille is number eight in the first set of dances. It's interesting to note that each quadrille specifies its fourth figure, either Trenise or Pastorale. The ballet-girl is said (above) to have preferred Pastorale.
Along with the eight regular quadrilles and four of the aforementioned polkas, there are two specific quadrille sets, the Lancers and the Caledonians; a Spanish Dance, likely the familiar mid-century survivor of the genre, but possibly performed in a line rather than a circle; a Circular Waltz, which would be a waltz country dance of some sort performed in a circle, with a galop; a waltz, a Cellarius (mazurka) waltz, and a redowa waltz; and Sir Roger de Coverley, interesting placed at the beginning of the second set of dances.
A final note of interest is that this is Mr. Henry's Ball, but a note at the bottom of the program announces Mrs. Henry's Dress Ball. Since presumably the Henrys operated as a couple, it's interesting that their balls had different official hosts. I'm not sure why the distinction.
I've touched on all the important bits above, but for convenience, I've transcribed all the dance-relevant material, plus some context, below. The elided parts may be found in the full book, which is online here.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
from the Preface:
Should any Gent imagine, from the title of this little book...that there is anything in it which might, with propriety, exclude it from the drawing-room table -- added to the commonly-circulated notions of the class we are about to write of -- then is that Gent mistaken...
...a worthy old clergyman, at some little out-of-the-way village in Hampshire, put together his observation of several years in the Natural History of Selbourne; and its sparrows, grubs, and tortoises. And so we follow with this our Social Zoology, after more elaborate essays on different varieties of the human race...
from Chapter V, The Theatres are Over.
[at a late supper]
For it requires great coolness and decision of character to open oysters properly. It is an art learned only by long practice; like throwing at snuff-boxes, playing at the pea and thimble, cutting up ducks, and doing the reverse step in the Deux Temps, and may not be wildly undertaken.
from Chapter VI, Of the Ballet-Girl at Soirees Dansantes.
Putting the theatre out of the question, the Ballet-girl is passionately fond of dancing. One would think she had enough of it in her profession; but it is not so: the greatest treat she knows is to go to a public ball and wear a costume de société.
And here, though she does not leave the theatre until midnight, she will keep on dancing with untiring vigour until seven in the morning; she would even have the concluding Post Horn Galop encored, if the musicians had strength left to perform it. And she never betrays her profession in her dancing: all is orderly, quiet, in great propriety. At the time when everybody was learning the Polka, several of the teachers of dancing selected three or four Coryphées from the theatres for the pupils to practice with; and in this matter they acquire a perfect knowledge of the deportment observed in average society. They learnt this readily, for they are naturally quick and perceptive. But they also know the best ballroom conduct of the highest classes: how they pick this up we will now see.
The two favourite resorts of the Ballet-girl are, the Portland Rooms and Weippert's: they may be met with at the Hanover-square Rooms and Willis's, at many of the advertising half-guinea balls for charities; but the two former are their favourite resorts. As Weippert's, however, has simply the characteristics of a very well conducted public ball, we will confine ourselves to the latter resort of the dance-loving "jeunes gens."
[digression on the location of the Portland Rooms]
...if, on certain days, you look in the morning papers, and on others, in the Sunday Times, you will see an announcement similar to this:--
PORTLAND ROOMS, Foley-street, Portland place.--Mr. HENRY as tje honour to announce that his next SOIREE DANSANTE will take place on Wednesday next, and, in consequence of the success attending them this season, they will take place every alternate Wednesday. Dancing to commence at 10 o'clock. Tickets 2s. 6d. each. Mr. and Mrs. Henry give lessons in all the fashionable dances at all hours, either at this academy or the residence of pupils
Mr. Henry is in the ballet at the Opera, and he married Mrs. Henry, formerly Miss Dott, from the Corps de Ballet; she is a quiet pretty little person with dark eyes and hair, and mother to one or two small Henrys, on the high-road to preferment as flying fairies. Mrs. Henry has sisters, also in the ballet, who will be at the ball; and have dances of their own every month or so.
[arriving at the Portland Rooms]
...If you please, you leave your Gibus [collapsible top hat] with the attendant; if not, you can take it into the room unchallenged, and without having to combat the door-keeper for the right of so doing, as is the case at balls at the London Tavern, where they don't understand such strange conduct. And then you receive a programme printed on a little card, as follows:--
The room is long and narrow, with a row of seats down each side; and at the end, over the fireplace, is the music gallery, in which, as far as work goes, some performers are certainly earning their money. A polka is going on, and if you know a few of the leading West-end men by sight, you will be somewhat surprised at meeting them.
For so it is. Amidst the confused throng of polkers--turning, chasing, and banging against each other in all directions--are many accustomed to flutter hearts in circles far different to the one in which they are now dancing with such indefatigable good temper. And many fair girls, whose veins swell with the gentlest blood in England, and whose names are in the most patrician divisions of the Blue Book, would give all their world for the tithe of attention which the cavaliers are bestowing upon the pretty Coryphées who are now their partners. Where it is that in escaping from the restrictions of the cold etiquette which they are called upon habitually to preserve, they give their pent-up spirits full play; or whether the very pleasure derived from plunging into the extreme of life's antitheses, is the incentive, we know not. But here they are, "taking the shine out" of the ruck of dancers in first-rate style, and completely winding up all the inspiring Gents who try to outdo them. For thoroughbred blood and build is as much inherent in men as in horses.
The ceremonies of introduction at the Portland are not de rigeur: indeed they may almost be considered Arcadian, from their simplicity. A quadrille is formed, and the master of the ceremonies cries out, "Side couples wanted!" which always appears to be the case; and which he utters perpetually, wildly and mechanically, even before any one stands up. And then you will see the Ballet-girl take her place with her partner, in a dress of faultless make and cerise tarlatan, perfectly quiet and ladylike in her demeanour, and very different, in repose, to her vis-a-vis, who is the daughter of a baker, with a wreath in her head that looks as it were made of green leaves and mixed biscuit, and a brooch in her bosom as big as a penny open jam tart, and something like one.
You will be struck with the nice method of her dancing. She does not bow to her partner and then to the corners, as many of the company do: but her face beams with excitement as the Esmeralda quadrilles begin:--
[music staves]
for then she thinks of Carlotta, and her tambourine, and the joyous dance of the Truanda, in the Cour des Miracles, and all the stirring point of the most charming ballet ever composed. And now the Truandoise, she knows, will come in the L'Eté;--
[music staves]
and when that pretty air commences, it is only by great strength of mind that she can refrain from dancing the tripping pas appropriate to it; but one of the "Pets of the Guards" is her vis-a-vis and she maintains her usual deportment. So the quadrille goes on to its conclusion; and then she thinks she would like some lemonade upon which, she descends to the refreshment room--a locality we shall presently describe--with her partner; and indulges in the effervescing beverages, until a sound is heard, something like this:--
[music staves]
when nothing in the world would keep her down stairs longer, and she hurries up to the ball-room. Her partner has been as eagerly looking after her, and they are soon in the thickest of the Polka mélée.
And now it is that the Ballet-girl with her cavalier distinguish themselves from the Snobs. For the latter social nuisances fling their legs about; and get in everybody's way; and turn their heads to the right and left shoulder alternately, as they twist about; and plunge; and dive; and commit every species of maniacal enormity: whilst you will see our graceful couple avoiding everybody--their heads over each other's right shoulders--their arms extended, and adroitly dropped when they anticipate a collision, moving easily about in all directions without one concussion. And when this is over, supper time arrives.
[description of supper rooms and supper]
At last, when they have all eaten enough--which is not in a minute, for the Ballet-girl requires sustenance--they think of joining the ball again. "Polkar!" shouts Mr. Henry. "Take your partners for the Polkar!"
And in another moment they are hard at work dancing it.
An after-supper Polka at the Portland Rooms is a thing to see. It generally commences with the pupils of the professional gentleman who gives the ball, many of whom have their hairs curled, and wear pumps and frock coats, and at times lay-down collars and Byron ties. These start off at first under great difficulties, as nobody will get out of the way and let them do their steps, which is a great point with them; for they go the entire Polka. And when they have knocked, and trodden, and kicked the idlers out of the way, then the élite come in with their stylish little partners, and take the shine out of all the others in marvelous style; making little steps, and acting on the very "confidential" manner of dancing with their arms out, and the fair little heads of their partners almost reclining against the coral studs of their elaborate cambric breastplates--in lieu of the steel they sometimes carry, and in which you may not see a few of them cased up in the corridor on Drawing-room days. They keep the centre of the room, where they are less likely to be upset, and turn and reverse in a manner "pleasant to behold," as Old Pepys would say, had he lived now to write his diary. Nor are they less graceful in Trenise or Pastalre. The Ballet-girl prefers Pastorale creeping up to their vis-a-vis with little steps and a position of similar confidence and sympathy.
And by all this, and the crowd coming in after, there is kicked up such a mighty dust that one might almost imagine the rooms were never swept, by a connivance between the proprietor and the man who sells the lemonade down stairs, at sixpence a bottle, to wash out the throats of the Polkers.
There is a temporary lull; and then the first notes of the charming Bridal Waltz sound something like
[music staff]
and they are all off again. And this continues until the programme is exhausted; and the cabs that have been so long waiting take the Ballet-girls to their homes...
...And then the Portland-rooms are deserted, except for the pupils of Miss Dott, anxious to acquire the fashionable dances, until the following Wednesday week, when the scene is enacted all over again.
From Chapter VIII, Of the Ballet-Girl Considered as of the Industrious Classes.
The Ballet-girl is a "blanchisseuse" as well as a "couturière." She has in general, at home, a little iron, which she regards as the head of her household gods, for by its aid she is enabled to appear at the balls, in what she considers to be a becoming manner; and herein she again assimilates to the grisette. If you were to take her by surprise on the morning of a ball, you would find her lodgings converted into a perfect miniature laundry, and you would possibly see her "getting up" the dress in which, at night, she intends to be the belle of belles. And the chances are the has made it herself...
Hello Susan,
Should we conclude, by reading the dance program, that "Sir Roger of Coverley" is no longer a "finishing dance" by 1840s?
Kind regards,
Sandra
Posted by: Sandra Stevens | July 01, 2020 at 05:57 AM