The Mysteries of London. George W. M. Reynolds
know no more Mesmerists," answered the old hag, in a surly tone.
"Then you can do nothing for me?"
"I did not say that—I did not say that," cried the hag. "It is true I can get you upon the stage; but perhaps that pursuit will not please you."
"Upon the stage!" ejaculated Ellen. "In what capacity?"
"As a figurante, or dancer in the ballet, at a great theatre," replied the old woman.
"But I should be known—I should be recognised," said Ellen.
"There is no chance of that," returned the hag. "Dressed like a sylph, with rouge upon your cheeks, and surrounded by a blaze of light, you would be altogether a different being. Ah! it seems that I already behold you upon the stage—the point of admiration for a thousand looks—the object of envy and desire, and of every passion which can possibly gratify female vanity."
For some moments Ellen remained lost in thought. The old woman's offer pleased her: she was vain of her beauty and she contemplated with delight the opportunity thus presented to her of displaying it with brilliant effect. She already dreamt of success, applause, and showers of nosegays; and her countenance gradually expended into a smile of pleasure.
"I accept your proposal," she said; "but—"
"Why do you hesitate?" demanded the old woman.
"Oh! I was only thinking that the introduction would be better——"
"If it did not come from me?" added the old woman, her wrinkled face becoming more wrinkled still with a sardonic grin. "Well, make yourself easy upon that score. I am only aware that a celebrated manager has a vacancy in his establishment for a figurante, and you may apply for it."
"But I am ignorant of the modes of dancing practised upon the stage," said Ellen.
"You will soon learn," answered the old woman. "Your beauty will prove your principal recommendation."
"And what shall I give you for your suggestion?" asked Ellen, taking out her purse.
When a bailiff makes a seizure in a house, he assures himself with a glance around, whether there be sufficient property to pay at least his expenses;—when a debtor calls upon his creditor to ask for time, the latter surveys the former for a moment, to ascertain by his countenance if he can be trusted;—the wholesale dealer always "takes stock," as it were, of the petty detailer who applies to him for credit;—and thus was it that the old woman scrutinized with a single look the capacity of Ellen's purse, so that she might thereby regulate her demand. And all the while she appeared intent only on her work.
"You can give me a couple of guineas now," the old woman at length said; "and if your engagement proves a good one, you can bring or send me three more in the course of the month."
This arrangement was immediately complied with, and Ellen took leave of the old hag, with the fervent hope that she should never require her aid any more.
On the following day Miss Monroe called upon the manager of the great national theatre where a figurante was required.
She was ushered into the presence of the theatrical monarch, who received her with much urbanity and kindness; and he was evidently pleased with her address, appearance, and manners, as she explained to him the nature of her business.
"Dancing in a ball-room, and dancing upon the stage, are two very different things," said the manager. "You will have to undergo a course of training, the length of which will depend upon your skill and your application. I have known young ladies become proficient in a month—others in a year—many never, in spite of all their exertions. Most of the figurantes have been brought up to their avocation from childhood; but I see no reason why you should not learn to acquit yourself well in a very short time."
"I shall exert myself to the utmost, at all events," observed Ellen.
"How are you circumstanced?" inquired the manager. "Excuse the question; but my object is to ascertain if you can support yourself during your apprenticeship, as we may term the process of study and initiation?"
"I have a comfortable home, and am not without resources for my present wants," answered Ellen.
"So far, so good," said the manager. "I do not seek to pry into your secrets. You know best what motives induce you to adopt the stage: my business is to secure the services of young, handsome, and elegant ladies, to form my corps de ballet. It is no compliment to you to say that you will answer my purpose, provided your studies are successful."
"With whom am I to study, sir?"
"My ballet-master will instruct you," replied the manager. "You can attend his class. If you will come to the theatre to-morrow morning at ten o'clock, you can take your first lesson."
Ellen assented to the proposal, and took leave of the manager. They were mutually satisfied with this interview: the manager was pleased with the idea of securing the services of a young lady of great beauty, perfect figure, and exquisite grace;—and, on her side, Ellen was cheered with the prospect of embracing an avocation which, she hoped, would render her independent of the bounty of others.
And now her training commenced. In the first place her feet were placed in a groove-box, heel to heel, so that they formed only one straight line, and with the knees turned outwards. This process is called "se tourner." At first the pain was excruciating—it was a perfect martyrdom; but the fair student supported it without a murmur; and in a very few days her feet accustomed themselves, as it were, to fall in dancing parallel to each other.
The second lesson in the course of training consisted of resting the right foot on a bar, which Ellen was compelled to hold in a horizontal line with her left hand. Then the left foot was placed upon the bar, which was in this case held up by the right hand. By these means the stiffness of the feet was destroyed, and they were rendered as pliant and elastic as if they had steel springs instead of bones. This process is denominated "se casser."
Next, the student had to practise walking upon the extreme points of the toes, so that the foot and the leg formed one straight line. Then Ellen had to practise the flings, capers, caprioles, turns, whirls, leaps, balances, borees, and all the various cuts, steps, positions, attitudes, and movements of the dance. During the caprioles the student had to train herself to perform four, six, and even eight steps in the air; and the fatigue produced by these lessons was at times of the most oppressive nature.[78]
When Ellen was perfected in these portions of her training, she had to practise the tricks of the stage. At one time the was suspended to lines of wires; at another she was seated on paste-board clouds; then she learned to disappear through traps, or to make her exit by a window. Some of these manœuvres were of a very dangerous nature; indeed, in some, the danseuse actually risked her life—and all her limbs. The awkwardness of an underling in shifting a trap-door at the precise moment would have led her to dash her head against a plank with fearful violence.
The art of theatrical dancing is divided into two schools, called Ballonné and Tacqueté. The former is the branch in which Taglioni shines; the latter is that in which Fanny Ellsler excels. The style of the Ballonné, takes its name from the airiness of the balloon; it combines lightness with grace, and is principally characterized by a breezy and floating appearance of the figure. The Tacqueté is all vivacity and rapidity, distinguished by sparkling steps and twinkling measures, executed with wonderful quickness upon the point of the feet. In both these schools was Ellen instructed.
So intense was the application of Miss Monroe—so unwearied was she in her practice, so quick in comprehending the instructions of the master—so resolute in surmounting all obstacles, that in the short space of two months she was a beautiful dancer. The manager was perfectly astonished at her progress; and he pronounced a most favourable opinion upon her chance of achieving a grand triumph.
Her form