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The Shadow Dance at the première of the ballet Ondine, choreography by Jules Perrot and music by Cesare Pugni. Original article follows.
HER MAJESTY'S THEATRE
THE SHADOW DANCE FROM "ONDINE."
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Of its own beauty is the mind diseased,
And fevers into false creation! |
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says Byron; but we require some stronger, more satisfactory reason why, in sober health, we become occasionally indifferent to the beautiful realities of our own earth, and fly to the immortals for ecstacies that, after all, are but a poet's dream. Everybody is not a Numa, and therefore cannot indulge in the blissful phantasy that he holds intercourse with "moulds beyond the earth;" and yet we would if we could, such is our "longing after immortality."
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Egeria! sweet creation of some heart
Which found no mortal resting-place so fair
As thine ideal breast! |
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how often hast thou been conjured up to our imagination! But "hence! unreal mockeries, hence!" and leave us to our task, not of criticism on the present occasion, but that of recording one of the most beautiful productions that any stage ever boasted of. The ballet of "Ondine," everybody by this time knows, is founded on La Motte Fouqué's fanciful and interesting story of "Undine," but does not adhere very faithfully to the original. Never mind: narration must give way to impersonation, particularly when we see such a "step-revealing goddess as Cerito [sic: should be Cerrito] in the principal character. Her dancing the pas de l'ombre (which is illustrated above) is in the highest degree beautiful, and inclines us to agree more than ever with the old Greek assertion that "Dancing is silent poetry." Nothing can be more enchanting than Cerito's innocent surprise when she first sees her shadow, and thinks it (or makes you believe she thinks it) to be something tangible and
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lovely in outline as herself. |
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The dioramic effect of the scene in which this pas occurs reflects the highest possible credit upon Grieve, the artist. No other stage-painter is so acquainted with the use of compound lights, commonly called mediums. It is a splendid specimen of skill in the art, and it is only to be regretted that such things are so evanescent, for we could see them a thousand times "with yet unwearied eyes." Although Cerito is la déesse of the scene, we must not be indifferent to the exquisite grace of Guy Stephan. She is one who could take the place of any more talked-of rival, and leave criticism nothing to do but applaud with rapture. In fact, the danseuse that in the presence of Taglioni was honoured with an encore of one of her pas must be allowed to
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range herself on level with the best. |
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