Lonsdale (1995).
Παυσανίας
E.Petersen (1871), P. Faure (1964)
K. Fittschen (1973)
M. Edwards (1991)
E. Petersen (1871),
P. Faure (1964)
K. Fittschen (1973)
M. Edwards(1991)
R. J. Rabelau
Platon, Ion, 534b
Louis SECHAN, La dan.e grecque antique
E. de Boccard,Paris, 1930, p. 12.
Platon, Lois, II, 654a.
Lawler
West
Webster
Barker
Postletwait
Frontisi-Ducroux.
Sarah Morris
Pinter
Frontisi-Ducroux
"Daidalos and The Origins of Greek Art" Sarah P.Morris
Naerebout
Pinter Marta «Ψυχή καιΧορός».
Maurice Emmanouel ι
Virginia Reel
Πλούταρχος
Πολυδεύκης
Ευστάθιος
Παυσανία, ΙΧ, 40, 3
Marie-Helene:"Les Danses Armees en Grece Antique" 1993
"Les Dances Pasifiques en Grece Antique" 1994
"Les Danses Dionysiaques en Grece Antique" 1995
Webster
Αθήναιος
Wegner
Franklin
Sechan
Stanford (1947)
Calame
Sourvinou-Inwood Reading Greek Culture. Texts and Images, Ritualw and Myths,Oxford 1991
Hymn. Hom. Ap. 197-206
Plato. Laws 771e-772a
Κen Dowden "Music and the Muses, The culture of'Mousike' in the classical Athenian city". Edited by
Penelope Murray and Peter Wilson. Oxford University Press.
"Muses and Mysteries"par Alex Hadrie et un autre article "Dancing thePyrrhiche in Athens"
Paola Ceccarelli "Dirty dancing:Xenophon's Symposium"
Victoria Wohl"Dirty Dancing in Private and Public." Forthcoming in
P. Murray and P. Wilson, eds., Music and Culture in Ancient Greece (OUP)
Γεωργιάδης
Αθήναιο (Deipnosophistai 179e-181f).
W. Leaf (The Iliad ii, London 1902, 315)
Λουκιανός
Van der Valk
Μ.J. Apthorp (The Manuscript Evidence for Interpolation in Homer, Heidelberg 1980, 160-5)
Αρίσταρχος
Postletwait Norman Eranos 96 (1998) «Hephaistos’ θείος αοιδός and the Cretan dance»
(Wolf*, W.
Schadewaldt
W. Marg
K. Reinhardt
Zs Ritook
Edwards
Janko,
Lonsdale 1995 (A dancing floor for Ariadne)
Κen Dowden
Sourvinou-Inwood Reading Greek Culture.Texts and Images, Ritualς and Myths, Oxford 1991.
Χαρακτήρες του Θεόφραστου (19.10)
Barker
Webster
Grove
Μιχαηλιδη
Komninou Olga 1989 "Sxedio kai Texniki tis Odysseias". Athena. Estia
Καζαντζάκη-Κακριδή
Maronitis 1971
Lonsdale II/6
H άμεση σύνδεση μεταξύ χορού και γάμου είναι φανερή στο τέχνασμα που διαπράττει ο Οδυσσέας μετά το φονικό των μνηστήρων. Εξηγεί γιατί το διαπράττει, αλλά αυτό ήδη το ξέρουμε.../ γάμος/χορός/μνηστήρες/Οδυσσέας/τέχνασμα
Lonsdale II/7
... H γενική ιδέα ότι η ερωτοτροπία μπορεί να οδηγήσει σε μία ένωση μπορεί να διαβαστεί πίσω στην παρομοίωση της Αριάδνης: Ο Δαίδαλος έχτισε τον "χορον" για την Αριάδνη για να τραβήξει έναν κατάλληλο εραστή (όπως ο Θησέας). Η ανάγνωση του ευρύτερου περιεχόμενου της βινιέτας της ασπίδας μπορεί τώρα να δώσει μία απάντηση στην ερώτηση τι γινόταν πάνω στο χοροστάσι (dancing floor).
Lonsdale II/8
Μια παρομοίωση μπορεί να είναι σε αλληλοεπίδραση με το περιεχόμανο που την πλαισιώνει με πολλούς τρόπους, γλωσσικούς, θεματικούς, αισθητικούς. Η συμπυκνωμένη παρομοίωση της Αριάδνης μοιράζεται με τον ανάμεικτο χορό που ακολουθεί το ρομαντικό θέμα του ζευγαρώματος νεαρών εραστών, οι οποίοι αναφέρονται στον πρώτο στίχο της περιγραφής του χορού με τη φράση ηιθεοι και παρθένοι (18.593). Μια παραλλαγή της φόρμουλας αυτής, παρθένοι ηιθεοι τ', εμφανίζεται δύο φορές σε διαδοχικούς στίχους στο μονόλογο του Έκτορα (22. 127-128), αλλά πουθενά αλλού στο ποίημα. Αυτή η επαναμβαλόμενη φρασεολογία ίσως η ίδια δεν είναι σημαντική λέει ο Lonsdale. Γίνεται όμως σαφές ότι στην περιγραφή του κυνηγιού που ακολουθεί γύρω από τα τείχη της Τροίας (Ιλ. 22.145-166) η εικόνα του ερωτικού χορού αναβιώνει από την επαναλαμβανόμενη γλώσσα, από την κυκλική και γραμμική κίνηση του Έκτορα και του Αχιλλέα και από την παρουσία του κοινού. Μόνο που το κοινό πριν ήταν θεοί, εδώ είναι οι θεοί, όλοι που κοιτάζουν (22.166). Η όψη του Έκτορα που καταδιώκεται γύρω από τα τείχη προκαλεί τον Δία να μιλήσει, ο οποίος συζητώντας τη μοίρα του Έκτορα θυμάται τα πολλά θύματα που θυσιάστηκαν(;) σε αυτόν στο βουνό Ίδα. Μια θυσία έχει αναφερθεί νωρίτερα στο ειρωνικό σχόλιο του ποιητή ότι ο Αχιλλέας και ο Έκτορας "δεν τρέχουν για ένα ιερό βόδι ή δέρμα όπως αυτά που δίνονται ως έπαθλα στους αγώνες δρόμου" (Ιλ.22 159-160). Ακολουθεί μία παρομοίωση κούρσας αλόγου (22.162-166)./ηιθεοι και παρθένοι/ παρθένοι ηιθεοι τ'/ερωτικού χορού / κυκλική και γραμμική κίνηση του Έκτορα και του Αχιλλέα κοινό / θεοί/ θνητοί/θυσία /αγώνες
Lonsdale II/5
Στην Οδύσσεια συνεχίζει ο Lonsdale ο χορός συμβαίνει πάντα στα πλαίσια ένος γάμου (πάντα;). Αναφέρεται στο διπλό γάμο που διοργανώνεται στο παλάτι του Μενέλαου και της Ελένης (Μεγαπένθης, Ερμιόνη/ακροβάτες). Στη Ναυσικά που θέλει να πλύνει τα ρούχα στο ποτάμι προφασιζόμενη τα αδέλφια της που θα τα χρειασθούν για να πάνε στο χορό (ως υποψήφιοι μνηστήρες;), αν και στην αλήθεια είναι ή ίδια που ετοιμάζεται να ζήσει ένα ρομαντικό ιντερλούδιο που στολίζεται με χορό. Όταν ο Οδυσσέας τη βλέπει για πρώτη φορά αυτή παίζει χορεύοντας με την μπάλα (she plays the « ball-dance ») παρέα με τις δούλες της. Η παρομοίωση της πριγκίπισσας με την Άρτεμη (Od. 6. 102-109) δίνει ένα σαφή χαρακτήρα για αυτούς τους παιχνιδιάρικους χορούς της Ναυσικάς και των δούλων της. Είναι ανάλογοι με το είδος συμπεριφοράς κοριτσιών σε ηλικία γάμου που συμμετέχουν σε λατρείες θεοτήτων τύπου Άρτεμης. Ο Lonsdale υποστηρίζει ότι στη δομή του ηρωικού μύθου η επιθυμία της Ναυσικάς να βοηθήσει τον Οδυσσέα ανταποκρίνεται στην εσωτερική σύγκρουση-διαμάχη με την οποία έρχεται αντιμέτωπη η κόρη του βασιλιά όταν ερωτεύεται τον ξένο ήρωα : έχει τη διάθεση να προδώσει τον πατέρα της προκειμένου να βοηθήσει τον ήρωα. Μέχρι τότε την ευχαριστούσε να χορεύει για τον πατέρα της και αυτή η ανεπηρέαστη αγάπη της κόρης για τον πατέρα της βρίσκει την έκφραση της στο μοτίβο «dancing for daddy», όπως στους χορούς της παρθένας Άρτεμης που απολαμβάνει ο Δίας και η Λητώ (Hymn. Hom. Ap. 197-206). Στην Οδύσσεια αυτή η αλλαγή πίστης από τον πατέρα στον ήρωα διευθύνεται θεϊκά από την Αθηνά μέσω του χορού με την μπάλα που οδηγεί στη συνάντηση της Ναυσικάς με τον Οδυσσέα. Οι χοροί γάμου και ερωτοτροπίας συνεχίζει ο συγγραφέας παίζουν παρόμοιο ρόλο στο να μεταθέτουν τις σχέσεις στοργής έξω από το άμεσο οικογενειακό περιβάλλον (cf. Plato. Laws 771e-772a). H κατάσταση μεταξύ Οδυσσέα και Ναυσικάς είναι παράλληλη με αυτή του Θησέα και της Αριάδνης. Αν και η παρομοίωση της Αριάδνης δεν αποκαλύπτει λεπτομέρειες, ο Δαίδαλος κατασκευάζοντας το χοροστάσι παίζει βοηθητικό ρόλο παρόμοιο με αυτόν της Αθηνάς (Lonsdale 1995).
/Οδύσσεια /χορός/ γάμου/ακροβάτες/ρομαντικό ιντερλούδιο /ball-dance /dancing for daddy/χορούς της παρθένας Άρτεμης/Δίας και η Λητώ/ (Hymn. Hom. Ap. 197-206)/αλλαγή πίστης/ σχέσεις στοργής /οικογενειακό περιβάλλον /Plato. Laws 771e-772a/Οδυσσέα και Ναυσικάς /Θησέα και της Αριάδνης/ Δαίδαλος/ χοροστάσι/Αθηνά
[image1]
Plate 567, Animal Locomotion: An Electro-Photographic Investigation of Consecutive Phases of Animal Movements, 1872-1885, 1887
By Eadweard Muybridge
Published by [The University of Pennsylvania]
Printed by The Photogravure Company of New York, New York
19 x 24"
The Wolfsonian–Florida International University, Miami Beach, Florida, Gift of Everett Post
XB2003.06.27.120.567
Abert, Hermann. “Gluck und unsere Zeit.” Die Musik Gluck-Heft (July 1914): 3–9.
---. “Zum Geleit.” Gluck-Jahrbuch 1 (1913): 1–8.
Appia, Adolph. Oeuvres complètes. Vol. 3. Ed. and trans. Marie L. Bablet-Hahn. Bonstetten: L’Âge d’Homme, 1988.
Arend, Max. “Gluck, der Reformator des Tanzes.” Die Musik 13.19 (July 1913–14): 16–22.
Arnold, Klaus-Peter. Vom Sofakissen zum Städtebau: Die Geschichte der Deutschen Werkstätten und der Gartenstadt Hellerau. Dresden: Verlag der Kunst, 1993.
Bachmann, Franz. “Jaques-Dalcroze und seine Bestrebungen: Eine Kulturstudie.” Die Musik 2.15 (May 1912): 131–46.
Balance, John. “Jacques Dalcroze and his School.” The Mask: A Quarterly Journal of the Art of the Theatre 5 (1912/1913): 33–37. New York, 1967.
Barsham, Eve. “Berlioz and Gluck.” C.W. von Gluck: Orfeo. Ed. Patricia Howard. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1981. 84–96.
---. “Table of Numbers.” C.W. von Gluck: Orfeo. Ed. Patricia Howard. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1981. 127–34.
Berlioz, Hector. Treatise on Instrumentation. Enlarged and Revised by Richard Strauss. Trans. Theodore Front. New York: Edwin F. Kalmus, 1948.
Bernhard Shaw and Mrs. Patrick Campbell: Their Correspondence. Ed. Alan Dent. London: Victor Gollancz Ltd., 1952.
Bie, Oskar. Der Tanz. 2nd ed. Berlin: Julius Bard, 1919.
Brandenburg, Hans. “Die Bildungsanstalt Jaques-Dalcroze.” Der Moderne Tanz. Munich: Georg Müller, 1913. 55–86.
Breuer, Robert. “Hellerau.” Die Schaubühne 8.28/29 (18 July 1912): 50–53.
Claudel, Paul. “Le Théatre d’Hellerau.” La nouvelle revue française 10 (1 September 1913). Nedeln: Kraus Reprint, 1968. 474–77.
Christoph Willibald Gluck und die Opernreform. Ed. Klaus Hortschansky. Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1989. 154–71.
Csampai, Attila and Dietmar Holland, eds. Claudio Monteverdi: Orfeo/Christoph Willibald Gluck: Orpheus und Eurydike: Texte, Materialien, Kommentare. Reinbek bei Hamburg: Rowohlt, 1988.
Daly, Ann. Done Into Dance: Isadora Duncan in America. Bloomington: Indiana UP, 1995.
De Michelis, Marco. “Modernity and Reform: Heinrich Tessenow and the Institute Dalcroze at Hellerau.” Perspecta 26 (1990): 143–70.
De Zoete, Beryl. The Thunder and the Freshness. New York: Theatre Arts Books, 1963.
Dohrn, Wolfgang. Die Gartenstadt Hellerau: Ein Bericht. Jena: Diederichs, 1908.
Dutoit-Carlier, Claire-Lise. “Jaques-Dalcroze, Créateur de la Rythmique.” Émile Jaques-Dalcroze: L’homme, le compositeur, le créateur de la rythmique. Ed. Frank Martin. Neuchâtel: A La Baconnière, 1965. 305–412.
Edward Muybridge: Motion Studies. (videodisc) Santa Monica, California: Voyager, 1990.
Emmanuel, Maurice. Essai sur l'orchestique grecque. Étude de ses mouvement d'après les monuments figurés. Paris: Hachette, 1895.
---. La danse grecque antique. Paris: Hachette, 1895.
Frecot, Janos. “Die Lebensreformbewegung.” Das Wilhelminische Bildungsburgertum. Ed. Klaus Vondung. Göttingen: Vandenhoek & Ruprecht, 1976. 138–52.
Freud, Sigmund. “Der Wahn und die Träume in W. Jensen’s Gradiva (1907).” Studienausgabe X: Bildende Kunst und Literatur. Frankfurt am Main: Fischer, 1969. 9–86.
Giertz, Gernot. Kultus ohne Götter: Emile Jaques-Dalcroze und Adolphe Appia: Der Versuch einer Theaterreform auf der Grundlage der Rhythmischen Gymnastik. Münich: Kommissionsverlag J. Kitzinger, 1975.
Gluck, Christoph Willibald. “Orfeo ed Euridice.” Denkmäler der Tonkunst in Österreich. Ed. Hermann Abert. Series 2. Vol. 44a. Vienna, 1914. Graz: Akademischer Druck- und Verlagsanstalt, 1960.
“Gluck Orphée.” Avant Scène (September–October 1979): 72–95.
Holek, Wenzel. Vom Handarbeiter zum Jugenderzeiher: Lebensgang eines deutsch-tschechischen Handarbeiters. 2 Vols. Jena: Diederichs, 1921.
Horneffer, August. “Das Fest.” Die Schulfeste der Bildungsanstalt Jaques-Dalcroze: Programmbuch. Ed. Bildungsanstalt Jaques-Dalcroze. Der Rhythmus: Ein Jahrbuch 2.1 (1912): 14–20.
Howard, Patricia. C.W. von Gluck: Orfeo. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1981.
Isadora Duncan: Movement from the Soul. Produced and directed by Dayna Goldfine and Daniel Geller. Los Angeles: Direct Cinema Limited, 1989.
Janet, Pierre. L’automatisme psychologiqe: essai de psychologie expérimentale sur les formes inférieures de l’activité humaine. Paris: F. Alcan, 1889.
Jaques-Dalcroze, Emile. Le Rythme, la Musique et l’Éducation. Lausanne: Foetische Frères, 1965.
---. Méthode. Paris: Sandoz, 1906.
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Koritz, Amy. Gendering Bodies/Performing Art: Dance and Literature in Early Twentieth–Century British Culture. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1995.
Krieger, Michael. “Orpheus mit Glück: The Deceiving Gratifications of Presence.” Theatre Journal 35.3 (October 1983): 295–306.
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Marey, Etienne-Jules. La machine animale: locomation terrestre et aérienne. 4th ed. Paris: F. Alcan, 1886.
---. Le mouvement. Arles: Diffusion Harmonia Mundi, 1994.
Marsop, Paul. “Jaques-Dalcroze, Hellerau und die Musik.” Neue Kämpfe: Zweite Reihe der Studienblätter eines Musikers. Munich: Georg Müller, 1913. 362–96.
Martin Buber and the Theater. Ed. Maurice Friedman. New York: Funk & Wagnalls, 1970.
Martin, Frank, ed. Émile Jaques-Dalcroze: L’homme, le compositeur, le créateur de la rythmique. Neuchâtel: A La Baconnière, 1965.
Müller, Erich H. “Notizen.” Gluck-Jahrbuch 1 (1913): 91–92.
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---. The Human Figure in Motion: An Electro-Photographic Investigation of Consecutive Phases of Muscular Actions. London: Chapman & Hall, 1901.
---. Muybridge’s Complete Human and Animal Locomotion: All 781 Plates from the 1887 Animal Locomotion. New York: Dover, 1979.
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#
Eurydice’s dancing body makes its presence felt from the very opening bars of Jaques-Dalcroze’s Orpheus, particularly throughout the chorus of lamenting nymphs in Act I. Stunned by the jolting omission of the overture, the audience would have immediately heard the strains of this first chorus, and then seen four groups of nymphs entering from both sides of the hall, moving in front of Appia’s broad set of nine stairs constructed of large wooden blocks.18 The swerves of their flowing Duncanesque robes gracefully reflected the phrasing of the music as they moved towards Orpheus, the famous contralto Emmi Leisner of the Berliner Staatsoper, who sat bent over in front of a singular wooden block symbolizing Eurydice’s tomb.19
Thenymphs were not dancing for the sake of sheer operatic spectacle; rather, they exteriorized, and thus made suitable for the theater, Orpheus’s grieving memory of Eurydice. By transforming Orpheus’s grief into recognizable visual and gestural images of Eurydice, the nymphs gave to dance the aesthetically viable dramatic function Isadora Duncan had reserved for it in her earlier choral interpretations of Gluck’s work.20 Orpheus is so absorbed in his thoughts of Eurydice, that his feelings can only embody her, and so she comes alive through the elegiac movements of the fantastically classicized nymphs who move to the rhythm of her name.
# The mourning nymphs express Eurydice’s noble character through their slow, simple, and gracefully classical walk. This walk was not only the fundamental activity in Jaques-Dalcroze’s method, but also, according to Maurice Emmanuel, the basis of Greek orchestique.21 In his treatise, La danse grecque antique of 1895, Emmanuel attempted to reconstruct Greek dance by piecing together the movements he found depicted on vases and reliefs. Emannuel thereby brought back into cultural consciousness classical Greek images which subsequently exerted considerable influence on the development of modern dance.
The walk seen here in video example 1 is described by Emannuel: the dancer transfers weight from the arched back ankle to the flat front foot, propelling her movement forward as characteristic of Greek dance after the sixth century B.C. (Watch Video Ex. 1) The nymphs periodically stop to form tableaux vivantes of human grief, using bodily images that Jaques-Dalcroze may well have borrowed from Emmanuel’s chapter on “funeral dances.” Emmanuel described how dancers or “pleureuses” originally sang while walking in rhythmic unison, ripping their hair, beating their chests, tearing their clothes, and scratching their faces, all while accompanied by a solo flute. With time, they replaced these violent actions with more simply figured, symbolic gestures (or what Emmanuel calls “simulacre”), such as the one used by Dalcroze’s first and third mourners (from left to right) as seen in the picture below. Dalcroze’s fourth mourner is likewise symbolically beating her chest—a second Pathosformel of human grief. The Eurydice they portray exudes the same spirit of balance and noble simplicity that Jaques-Dalcroze associated throughout the opera with a harmonious society built on organic values and healthy cooperation. By bringing Eurydice to life through this classical Greek image of walking grace, Jaques-Dalcroze communicates in no uncertain terms that he has rooted his plastique animée not in Nietzschean pessimism, or Schopenhauer’s will, or Dionysian ecstasy, but rather in the Apollonian essence of Schiller’s classicist dictate that “music in its highest ennoblement must become form” (Appia 65).22
# Jaques-Dalcroze’s mourning nymphs do not walk naturally on stage to Gluck’s music; rather, they tremble with the music’s emotional essence as expressed through multiple, trained, harmonized movements executed by their entire bodies. Their actions resemble that of a conductor, whose gestural visualizations of music allow an orchestra to understand corporeally the emotional meaning of a piece of music (Jaques-Dalcroze, Le Rythme 42). Jaques-Dalcroze felt that plastique animée worked best with irregular metrical patterns, because these patterns resulted from, and thus better expressed, human emotions.23 He also encouraged his students to respond to spontaneous decisions made in performance. In Hellerau, dancers tested their skill in plastique animée by reacting in performance to the subtleties of Emmi Leisner’s (Orpheus’s) striking rubato. (Listen to Ex. 1)24 Jaques-Dalcroze did not find in Gluck’s opera the irregular meters he later so admired in Stravinsky’s music; yet he did discover a metric play interesting enough to serve as a model example of plastique animée (Le Rythme 79–80).25 He considered this first chorus to be the easiest number in the opera to translate into gestural movement. This may bave been due to the manner in which Gluck played with accents in the opening, two-bar motivic rhythm (mm. 1–2), and how this rhythmic manipulation related to Orpheus’s grief over Eurydice.26 From the beginning of the opera, the main motive’s emphasized second beat (m. 1) vies for attention with the metrical downbeat, which is itself emphasized in mm. 2 and 4 with suspensions (over VII6 and V6 chords respectively). By the time the nymphs enter (m. 15), however, they have diminished the effect of this accent by stressing the downbeat in the motive’s second bar with a longer suspension (a gesture reinforced by a sf mark in the score). In m. 17 they then omit the offbeat accent entirely. When the nymphs first utter Eurydice’s name (m. 19), they return in a striking fashion to the offbeat accent by starting the phrase on the second beat of the bar. Gluck shifts the nature of the metrical accent on the first beat of the next bar (m. 20) by allowing the VII chord to sit for two beats, rather than giving it the quarter-note length it had in the comparable spot in m. 6.
# Jaques-Dalcroze’s method would have taught the nymphs to react to this subtle rhythmic shift immediately, reflecting the unsettling outbreak of emotion in Gluck’s music. Orpheus’s exclamation of Eurydice’s name after the cadence on the dominant (m. 25) further derails the motive by sitting on the third beat of the bar (on “di-” of Eury-di-ce), and by shifting mode dramatically at that same moment. Accompanying Orpheus’s exclamation of grief, a choir of unison sopranos sing the original motivic rhythm. The choir begins to divide, if only briefly, as if to spell out the conflict between the first and second downbeats accentuated by Orpheus’s plea. In m. 37, Orpheus’s outburst so dramatically contrasts the cadence and regularized meter of the choir that they do indeed seem capable of waking Eurydice from the dead, as they are intended to do. With his pleas, Orpheus ultimately ultimately seems to convince the choir (or vice versa) and the two cadence together in mm. 44–48: “The Dead cannot be brought back to life, but the grieving are swept away. And so begins the enchantment of the audience” (Kaufmann 155; original). (Listen to Ex. 2; download size 2 MB)
# As they aid in Orpheus’s expression of grief, the languorous movements and free, unfettered flowing robes of Jaques-Dalcroze’s nymphs give their bodies the appearance of being natural, unrestrained by corsets, manners, and the technological advances of modern society. Ann Daly has shown in the case of Isadora Duncan, that this natural body, “far from being a tabula rasa, beyond the contingencies of culture and history, …was an artistic invention as well as a rhetorical strategy—a conceptual cipher for an ideal of harmony that embraced the Greeks and rejected ‘African savages’” (89). Jaques-Dalcroze’s nymphs did not express their “natural” inner feelings through personal gestures or revive the “natural” Greek subject; instead, they constructed an image of stylized naturalness on the basis of rigorous, relentless training that taught them to tame and control the deviant and unruly energies of their young bodies. Their muscles had been disciplined individually and in combination in “all the nuances of energy and flexibility, in speed and slowness, in order to assure integral functioning and perfect health to each part of the muscular system” (Appia 8, 10; original). They practiced long and hard in order to become “musical resonators that were so vibrant and faithful that they could transpose into attitudes and spontaneous gestures all the aesthetic emotions provoked by the musical rhythms”—all the while achieving an impression “of naturalness and ease” (Appia 10–12; original).
# At first glance, the nymphs’ practiced gestures appear to be symbolic—an impression encouraged by the deceiving photographs of the Hellerau Orpheus, which fix the nymphs in posed, postcard-like, statuesque formations. Indeed, such “statue posing” enjoyed great interest in the early twentieth century, especially as a popularized and “falsified” version of François Del Sarte’s American teachings. The French teacher of acting, singing, and aesthetics, Del Sarte developed a system of expression in the mid 1800s that continued to influence French artists and musicians throughout the late nineteenth century, and even became a broad-based social phenomenon when transplanted to the United States at that time (see Ruyter). As Ted Shawn remembered, these teachings consisted of “amateur entertainers, costumed in bulky, graceless ‘Greek’ robes, whitened skin, and white wigs, [taking] ‘poses’ supposedly expressive of grief, joy, shyness, anger, defiance, etc. etc. etc. ad infinitum, ad nauseam” (11).27 In contrast, Jaques-Dalcroze’s nymphs visualized the dynamic flow of the music by remaining in constant movement. Their gestures were not symbolic, but expressive, derived not from watered down Delsartian traditions, but rather from the original writings of Del Sarte himself, copies of which Jaques-Dalcroze possessed in his library.28 From Del Sarte and others, Jaques-Dalcroze developed the idea that bodily gesture functioned expressively and not symbolically, communicating emotions or spiritual ideals much more powerfully than words, sounds, or vocal tone. In the words of an American Delsartian Edward B. Warman:
Gesture has been given to man to reveal what speech is powerless to express. The gesture, then, like a ray of light, can reflect all that passes in the soul. Hence if we desire that a thing shall be always remembered we must not say it in words; we must let it be divined by gesture … Gestures are [sic] the sense of the heart … Tone [the sounds or tone of voice] expresses bodily conditions and sensations, physical pleasures and pains. Words are arbitrary mental symbols and interpret thoughts and ideas—they describe, label and limit. But gestures relate us to other beings, expressing our emotions, from the highest to the lowest, from spiritual joy to hate, lust and greed. (Shawn 58)
Jaques-Dalcroze’s understanding of bodily gesture rested firmly on Del Sarte’s much quoted “law of correspondence,” which stated that “to each spiritual function responds a function of the body; to each grand function of the body corresponds a spiritual act” (qtd. in Jaques-Dalcroze, Méthode 1).
# Defining transcendental ideas or spirituality as the source of gestural expression distinguished modern dance from ballet, and characterized the work of Isadora Duncan in particular. Like Duncan, Jaques-Dalcroze located the “spirit” in the emotional content of music, or in something equivalent to a musical or poetic idea. Duncan believed in the existence of an actual physical, originating point of spirituality in the body—namely the solar plexus; this “temporal home of the soul” could understand and realize movement corresponding to musical ideas (Daly 137–38). Jaques-Dalcroze, however, thought this spirituality resided in the music, and could only be perceived and realized by human beings who had perfected their aural and gestural abilities. By refining the ability of their entire organism (l’organisme tout entier) to respond to music through movement, Jaques-Dalcroze’s students developed a sensibility that allowed them to establish “an interior state of consciousness and emotiveness” (“un état intérieur de conscience et d’émotivité”) that perfectly coincided with the musical idea (Jaques-Dalcroze, Le Rythme 6, 46–7). As soon as their bodies could respond intuitively to the music, they would feel inside of themselves “a mysterious music that was the direct product of their feelings and sensations” and which Jaques-Dalcroze called “a music of personality,” or later, “an interior attitude” (Dutoit-Carlier 317; original). Jaques-Dalcroze defined the role of the attitude interior in terms of classical expression theory: a feeling inspired by a musical idea and expressible through dance (Franko 75–7). In Nietzsche’s sense, Jaques-Dalcroze would have defined himself as a lyricist, one who understood in music the appearance of the will, and expressed its unspeakable utterings in the Apollonian visual language of plastique animée.
# Jaques-Dalcroze’s theory of expression not only countered and redefined common sense notions of human subjectivity, but also ushered in an easily misread modernist notion of impersonality. By situating emotion in the body and defining its relationship to music as unmediated, he seemed to minimize the role of personal reflection in human expression, thereby rejecting the central means by which human beings constitute themselves as subjects. He limited his students’ personal agency by demanding from them “a corporeal state of absolute submission to the rhythm being realized;” this created an atmosphere in which many of his audience members felt subjugated as well (Appia 7; original). Without individually reflected emotional reactions, his students risked becoming impersonal, objectified vehicles for musical ideas requiring stylized bodily representations. Jaques-Dalcroze accentuated his students’ loss of personal agency by training them to understand space through the use of stairs designed by Appia, thus instilling in them the sense that their movement did not originate in their own bodies, but rather plastically related to an objectified space around them.29 Appia further aided Jaques-Dalcroze in transforming individual subjects into objects by designing a system to light dancers only in contrast to their stage surroundings, not on their own terms (Appia 101). The final step in Jaques-Dalcroze’s depersonalization of his subjects occurred when he grouped them in choral formations. Jaques-Dalcroze felt that these formations provided the key to expressing communal sentiment necessary for the new society he envisioned (Le Rythme 8). In such groups, it was necessary that individual gestures “became stylized, and that the movements of chorists renounce their personality in order to subordinate themselves to the ensemble” (Jaques-Dalcroze, Le Rythme 116; original). Stylized movements of the choir become the focal point of Orpheus, to the almost complete neglect of individual gesture.
# If plastique animée had merely replaced subjective expression with depersonalized, objective responses to music, it would hardly have touched its contemporaries and motivated modern dancers in the manner in which it did. Its effect was so powerful precisely because it created an unsettling ambiguity about the nature of automization and its consequences for human spiritual development. On the one hand, Jaques-Dalcroze’s method seemed to issue directly from late nineteenth–century studies of human and animal mechanisms and psychological automization initiated by Etienne-Jules Marey, Edward Muybridge, and (in Geneva) Pierre Janet. These studies suggested the possibility of scientifically dissecting and defining every aspect of human gesture with the aim of creating a grammar of human movement with the depth and aesthetic potential of human speech or music. The physician at Hellerau, Dr. Weber-Bauler, thought that Jaques-Dalcroze’s method directly related to the psychological automatisms of Pierre Janet. In 1924, Weber-Bauler suggested that the automisation of human movement best be understood in terms of a “law of economic movement” (“loi d’économie”) that gives the least in order to obtain the greatest result.30 Jaques-Dalcroze himself never allowed this automization to take the upper hand, always insisting that its ultimate purpose was the release of joy, a feeling of spiritual fulfillment, or the development of personality (Le Rythme 97). His method remained unclear about how mechanization related to the attainment of transcendental truth—an uncertainty reflected in Jaques-Dalcroze’s vague, shifting notion of what constituted musical rhythm. Whereas he frequently defined rhythm as meter, thus emphasizing its measurability and easy translation into mechanized human movement, Jaques-Dalcroze at other times equated rhythm more with an inner pulse or free rhythmic flow, something which could not be measured or translated scientifically. This inherent contradiction in his method between mechanized movement and metric rhythm, as opposed to free psychological time and spiritual essence, was not lost on his audiences. Their conflicting reactions to his work reflected their own uncertainty about how to appreciate aesthetically human movement in time.
# By sculpting their movements in order to express a transcendental musical idea, Jaques-Dalcroze’s choir of nymphs gave their performance a spiritual dimension that distinguished them from what many people in 1913 understood to be the dry, mechanical exercises of traditional gymnastics or Turnen (Marsop 364). Their state of half relaxation, or what Jaques-Dalcroze called “detente,” realized itself in luxuriously slow movements that allowed the dancers to gather their creative energies.31 Jaques-Dalcroze believed the spirituality they exuded resulted from the improved communication between the brain and body, brought on by the physical training of rhythmic gymnastics and the resulting perfected sensibility. As the muscles learned to resonate more perfectly with the music, dancers physically realized rhythms analyzed by the brain more rapidly, thereby increasing the functional capacity of the brain. In this manner, the body learned to communicate with the brain, thereby ceasing to obstruct its thoughts and allowing for a full flowering of the soul, the “necessary” spiritualization of the human body and music.
# Through their gentle walk, the nymphs of Act I make us aware that Orpheus is remembering Eurydice not as a woman, but rather as a classically stylized embodiment of feminine grace. The psychological trauma that could cause a fixation upon a classicist vision of women serves as the focal point of Wilhelm Jensen’s short story Gradiva, which in turn was the focus of Sigmund Freud’s first literary analysis in 1907. Jensen describes a young archeologist named Norbert who is in love with the classical walk of a young woman he names Gradiva; this woman he finds depicted on an ancient Roman copy of a Greek relief associated with Pompei. Jensen’s Gradiva walks dynamically forward with the very raised back foot characteristic of Eurydice’s Apollonian grace. Norbert becomes aware of his long suppressed desire for a childhood friend through a series of dreams and through his study of Gradiva’s Greek walk. This walk turns out to be his lost friend’s walk, transformed into a safe, archeological, classicized, stone form—the symbol for Freud of Norbert’s sexual repression. The woman he once loved recognizes his trauma and follows Norbert to Pompei, transforming herself into a living Gradiva and walking in front of him in order to break through his insanity and lead him back to a healthy erotic life.
# Enveloped in a dreamy blue light,32 overwhelmed by the disembodied sound of choral singing from behind the curtain, Jaques-Dalcroze’s Orpheus seems to be inhabiting the same dream world as Jensen’s archaeologist, haunted by a similar archaeological manifestation of his own sexual repression. He dreams in Act I of an Apollonian Eurydice, whose beautifully arched ankle not only symbolizes her classical perfection, but also the impossibility of that ideal—she is in hell after all because she was bitten by a snake and thus brought to her death. Like Jensen’s archeologist, Jaques-Dalcroze’s Orpheus will attempt to face the emotions hiding beneath his nostalgic fixation on an archaic image. He will experience in Act II a terrifying visual nightmare, leading him to a direct confrontation with Eurydice herself.
# Before he finds Eurydice, however, he must confront Amor—a character that never physically appeared on Appia’s stage at all. Amor’s voice, though, was heard “like a promise” from behind the stage as Eurydice’s tomb opened, revealing a brilliant light from another world (Ernst Ansermet, qtd. in Appia 122). Inspired by Rudolf Steiner and Gurdijieff, the lighting technician for the show, Alexandre Salzmann, imbued Amor’s light with moral and spiritual significance. Martin Buber described the space created by this light as “unnamable”: “It is shaped by a principle whose name we do not yet know and of which we know only a symbol drawn from the senses: creative light” (Martin Buber 82). From Jaques-Dalcroze’s Amor, Apollo passes on to Orpheus the clarifying light of reason, which he then takes with him to fight the furies in the underworld.
# In Jaques-Dalroze’s production of Orpheus’s famous second act, Emmi Leisner (as Orpheus) enters the dream of Hades by descending Appia’s long dramatic flight of stairs. She is accompanied not by Orpheus’s famous lyre, but rather by a powerful light that increases in brilliance as she moves downwards, symbolizing Orpheus’s role as an enlightened artist and Apollonian hero who brings with him reason, music, and the word.33 This emblematic light defined Orpheus as the spiritual leader, or elite of his community—as one of the “progressives” who “marched alone, lighting the way,” and whom Jaques-Dalcroze believed the masses necessarily had to follow (Le Rythme 13; original). Emmi Leisner had trained in rhythmic gymnastics for several months before taking on the part of Orpheus; she used her training particularly in this scene, allowing Orpheus to invade the physical space of the furies and shadows in his attempts to tame them. In this hell, the furies confront Orpheus with the vivid specter of his own sexuality, singing and dancing a series of violent movements, choreographed by Jaques-Dalcroze’s student, Anne Beck.34 Audiences were particularly excited to see this famous scene staged as they imagined it may have been in the eighteenth century, before the decline of ballet and dance.35 Jaques-Dalcroze also gave the furies more opportunity in which to move by opening the scene with the “Dance of the Furies,” a number Gluck had originally written for the reform ballet Don Juan (1761), and that he later added to the Parisian version of Orpheus in 1774.36 Jaques-Dalcroze also repeated the furies’ more commonly known dance no. 20 after the chorus no. 23, causing slight dramatic and harmonic confusion, and demonstrating that he was less interested in Orpheus’s ability to overwhelm the furies with his harmonies and vocal sound than in their presentation of a Dionysian sexual threat through plastique animée.
# In bringing the furies to life, Jaques-Dalcroze undoubtedly had before him not only Isadora Duncan’s recreation of the “Dance of the Furies” from Gluck’s Orpheus of 1911, but also Wagner’s more famous designs for the Bacchanal in Tannhäuser.37 In the period between Wagner and Jaques-Dalcroze, choruses of angry women (either Bacchanten, Maenades, or Furies), were established as a dominant trope, providing a Dionysian image of the feminine that dialectically opposed the Apollonian grace presented in Act I. Jaques-Dalcroze intensified the threatening allure of these spirits by dividing the furies up into opposing groups of furies and shadows, each of whom wore different costumes and acted independently of each other. The furies sexually provoked not only Orpheus, but also their audiences, by dressing in shocking new maillots resembling modern gymnastic suits and seen in Hellerau publicly for the first time.38 Many members of the audience found it unsettling to see the rapid individual motions of their glistening white limbs and felt overwhelmed by the sea of moving bodies squirming and twisting before them: “it was just a mass of swarming larvae, I don’t know what fantastic image of Gustav Doré or what evocation of Dante,” Ernst Ansermet shuddered (Appia 122; original). “Imagine,” George Bernard Shaw told a friend, “all the pupils at the school, heaped on the floor in a dim light and tossing their arms and legs about looked like heaps of snakes in hell” (Bernard Shaw 126).39
# The famous dance of the furies from Don Juan offered Jaques-Dalcroze an entirely different rhythmic framework from that of the nymph’s walking lament of Act I. He cut out the mysterious trembling in the first ten measures of Gluck’s score, starting the dance immediately with the powerfully simple progression that begins at m. 11 (Müller 91).40 Each chord here receives a four-bar dramatic emphasis and spectacular hammering out on the accented first beat of each bar, giving Annie Beck occasion to have the furies and shadows thrust themselves from one sharp, terrifyingly tense body position into another, designed to match the violence of the downbeats. Hans Brandenburg remembered that “the furies’ intentional, accentuated stamping added a coarsening, impertinent instrument to the music,” and that they unfortunately “stuck too much to the bar line, rather than advancing to the grand, freely controlled line of a rhythmic movement” (Brandenburg 82; original). The tension of the music was so dramatic that even years after Tristan, Jaques-Dalcroze’s audiences practically fell off their seats, each time the rondo dance’s motto dissonance recurred (as in m. 316 where it is a vii/E over a pedal E). (Listen to Ex. 3; download size 653K)
# Unlike Wilhelm Jensen’s archaeologist, Orpheus is not awakened by this musical and visual nightmare to the hidden meanings of his archaic Eurydician vision. Rather, he remains in a state of troubling psychological blindness that is significant for Jaques-Dalcroze’s interpretation of the opera. After overcoming the furies through the transcendence of his pure light and sincere song, Orpheus confronts in Elysium not the vibrant young woman Freud found behind the classical relief of Gradiva, but rather Eurydice as a glorious Apollonian presence. Skeptical about the female body’s base urges, Jaques-Dalcroze presented the real Eurydice as even more chaste than Orpheus’s memory of her. This classicized, chaste depiction of Eurydice emphasized Jaques-Dalcroze’s belief that in plastique animée women had to transcend their own corporeality through classicization, relinquish their connection with their sexuality or instinct, and mold themselves aesthetically into art.41 Appia and Jaques-Dalcroze were so convinced of this process that they suggested that their students dance in the nude, because:
… as the idea of sex diminishes in their artistic fever and thanks to the will they have to consecrate themselves entirely to beauty and truth of expression, and as their bodies are penetrated by feeling, so they sense that they would be committing a sin against the spirit by not respecting the nudity of the human body. (Appia 14; original)
Eurydice joins her chorus in expressing a dance of idyllic bliss and sorrow. Although no photographs survive documenting the blessed spirit’s visual appearance and movement style, reviews suggest that this chorus resembled the nymphs of Act I in their dignified gestures and serene music.42 They presented “attitudes couchées,”43 mirroring the rhythmic vitality of Appia’s innovative and visionary stage design by dancing with “imperceptible elevations of their arms,” “inclined heads,” and “slow evolutions” (Ansermet, qtd. in Appia 124). Ernest Ansermet marveled at how perfectly Eurydice realized the music of Gluck’s famous flute solo in dance no. 31 (qtd. in Appia 124). In Berlioz’s opinion, this dance expressed the “sublime lament of a suffering and despairing spirit,” and “eternal grief, still imbued with the passions of earthly life” better than any other in the repertoire (228).
# As Orpheus attempts to bring Eurydice to the earth’s surface in the most famous and troubling scene in the opera, she expresses for the first time the desires that constitute her subjectivity. He marches proudly to the surface in his music, making no attempt to communicate to her through dance or gesture, although these expressive means have not been forbidden by the gods. (Click here for text) Dalcroze emphasized Orpheus’s and Eurydice’s failure to develop mutual trust and rise to the surface as a unified force by adding trumpets, horns, and trombones to the instrumental interludes. This instrumentation gives Orpheus’s march an ominous tone, suggesting that his strict rhythms do not match Eurydice’s lyric dance (Müller 92). Eurydice herself takes on the allure of the timid young woman depicted on a Greek relief, one that Rainer Maria Rilke—a subsequent visitor to Hellerau—described in the poem “Orpheus, Eurydice and Hermes” (written in 1904). Rilke’s Eurydice does not provoke repressed desire through revealing sexual allure, but rather teaches Orpheus through her own Apollonian form about the serene transformation she experienced in the service of musical ideas and through her own human death. The poem's Eurydice walks again, but this time:
… unsicher, sanft und ohne Ungeduld.
Sie war in sich, wie Eine hoher Hoffnung,
und dachte nicht des Mannes, der voran ging,
und nicht des Weges, der ins Leben aufstieg.
Sie war in sich. Und ihr Gestorbensein
erfüllte sie wie Fülle.
Confused, gentle, and without impatience.
She was absorbed, like a woman great with hope,
and took no notice of the man who walked ahead
Or of the path that led them up toward life.
She was absorbed. And her death-existence
Filled her like fullness itself.
. . .
Sie war in einem neuen Mädchentum
und unberührbar; ihr Geschlecht war zu
wie eine junge Blume gegen Abend,
und ihre Hände waren der Vermählung
so sehr entwöhnt, daß selbst des leichten Gottes
unendlich leise, leitende Berührung
sie kränkte wie zu sehr Vertraulichkeit.
. . .
She was inside a new virginity
and was untouchable; her sex was closed
like a young flower in the evening,
and her hands had now grown so unused to marriage
that even the light god’s guiding touch,
endlessly gentle, sickened her,
Like too much intimacy.
Sie war schon nicht mehr diese blonde Frau,
die in des Dichters Liedern manchmal anklang,
nicht mehr des breiten Bettes Duft und Eiland
und jenes Mannes Eigentum nicht mehr.
. . .
She was no longer that blond woman
who sometimes echoed in the poet’s songs,
no longer the wide bed’s fragrance and island,
And that man’s property no more.
. . .
Sie war schon Wurzel.
Und als plötzlich jäh
der Gott sie anhielt und mit Schmerz im Ausruf
die Worte Sprach: Er hat sich umgewendet—,
begriff sie nichts and sagte leise: Wer?
She was already root.
And when, all at once,
the god stopped her and with pain in his voice
spoke the words: He has turned around—,
she understood nothing and said softly: Who?
(Rilke, Selected Poems 54–5)
# Jaques-Dalcroze omits Eurydice’s very human rage aria about leaving Elysium, and proceeds immediately to the moment when Orpheus glances at her. At this point she melts into the curtains as wistfully as she emerged from them, leading the spectators to believe she had been a vision all along, or, as Jaques-Dalcroze commented, “as if it had all been a dream” (Giertz 164; original). Eurydice’s disappearance into the hazy blueness of the plush curtains communicated in the strongest terms that Jaques-Dalcroze’s method was not concerned with the human body and its sexuality, but rather with its transcendence. Her body evaporates into thin air, her energy transformed into the shining glow of the clear bright light that floods the stage, releasing what Jaques-Dalcroze described as energy or “joy,” “a new factor of moral progress, a new stimulant of the human will”—the goal of plastique animée (Le Rythme 59; original). Several years later, Paul Valéry immortalized this neoclassicist vision of dance as transformation in his influential essay “L’âme de la danse.” In his essay, Socrates, Phaedra, and Éryximaque engage in a dialogue over the meaning of dance by watching the Greek dancer, Athikté. This dancer begins by performing Eurydice’s classical Greek walk, “the ankle tipping the body towards the point, the other foot passing and receiving this body, transferring it in advance” (Valéry 13; original). Athikté quickly moves into complex movements, avoiding the “boredom” of reality through the ecstatic impulse of her acting body, which “participates with all her being in the pure and immediate violence of extreme happiness,”— an instant of bodily transcendence in which she resembles a flame (Valéry 26; original). Rainer Maria Rilke expressed a similar vision of the transformative joy of dance when he returned to the figure of Eurydice in his Sonetten an Orpheus, in which he immortalized the recently deceased young dancer Wera Ouckama Knoop:
Wolle die Wandlung. O sei für die Flamme begeistert,
drin sich ein Ding dir entzieht, das mit Verwandlungen prunkt;
jener entwerfende Geist, welcher das Irdische meistert,
liebt in dem Schwung der Figur nichts wie den wendenden Punkt. Choose to be changed. With the flame, with the flame be enraptured,
where from within you a thing changefully-splendid escapes:
nothing whereby that earth-mastering artist is captured
more than the turning-point touched by his souring shapes.
(Rilke, Sonnets 111)
# In many interpretations of Gluck’s Orpheus, Eurydice’s death, however beautiful, is deemed necessary for Orpheus’s development as a poet and artist. She is the muse whose absence enables Orpheus to create song in his powerfully symbolic air “Che faro senza Eurydice.” Jaques-Dalcroze’s production contested that familiar narrative by having Orpheus collapse exhausted at the end of his aria, leading some of the spectators to conclude that he died without experiencing any psychological or spiritual awakening. By turning around to glance at Eurydice, he demonstrated that he could not live without the vision of her dance, and that he had not learned to be an independent artist, a requirement of plastique animée. Orpheus had neither faced his demons nor transcended the realm of his own artistic activity to become pure light. If that was not enough to shock his audience, Jaques-Dalcroze’s decision to truncate the opera at this point certainly was. Musically knowledgeable spectators argued over the aesthetic merits of omitting Gluck’s disliked yet familiar happy ending in favor of an abrupt return to the opening choral number. This return included a dance by the mourning nymphs, who simply repeated their lament over the loss of Eurydice as they closed the curtains and the performance ended.44 The omission of the famous ballet sequence from the Parisian version of the opera proved unequivocally that this production had not been about dance, but rather about a new art of movement that visualized musical ideas. The nymphs’ return also indicated that plastique animée could only work if Eurydice remained a distant and unattainable vision or idea—the inspiration for Orpheus’s song and the absence that enabled the chorus’s dance. The nymphs reveal that the opera’s central musical idea was Nietzsche’s “elegiac pain of eternal loss” (208); they allowed Jaques-Dalcroze to unify his production by expressing, as he said in his own words, only the tragic core of the Orpheus myth, without its pompous or entertaining elements (Ansermet, qtd. in Appia 124).
# Jaques-Dalcroze’s interpretation of Gluck’s famous opera as a tragic depiction of Eurydice’s Apollonian metamorphosis left less than a unified impression on his audiences. Whereas a few writers shared Jaques-Dalcroze’s and Appia’s aesthetic tastes, and reveled in their Orpheus’s classical beauty, many others were wary of the possibility of transcendence or bliss. Gerhart Hauptmann, for example, felt “charmed and shaken by the revelation that beauty still existed in modern bodies, just a bit covered up” (Reudel 17; original). And Paul Claudel exclaimed almost ecstatically that, “it is the first time since ancient Greece that we see true beauty on the stage” (476; original). But many critics felt less emphatic, joked about Jaques-Dalcroze’s project, and wondered about his motives. After all, why were all these young women so diligently following his orders? For Oskar Bie and other eminent critics, the source of such energy was not Apollonian, but rather could only be erotic female energy (366–67). As John Balance explained in the English journal The Mask:
… Apollo never asked for a parade of womanly charms in his service … Women don’t follow after Gods that offer bitterness … No, Venus, or some more pleasant Deity is their favorite. And as Dalcroze fills his school with girls he empties it of Apollonian possibilities and lets the Cyprian slop into the Fold.” (33–4)
# In a culture immersed in Nietzsche’s Die Geburt der Tragödie, Jaques-Dalcroze’s classicizing attempt at Greek orchestique appeared as a concession to Apollo—a misdirected emphasis on plasticity, clarity, harmony, light, rational coherence, and a miscomprehension of music’s mythical mystery and Dionysian depths. Some critics even understood Jaques-Dalcroze’s Orpheus nationalistically as an expression of French civilization that had nothing to do with the Dionysian rhythm in the soul of the German people (Marsop 368–69). But perhaps nobody was more suspicious of Jaques-Dalcroze’s project than the Hellerauer workers themselves. The Czech worker Wenzel Holek commented, for example:
One had indeed proclaimed to the whole world that rhythmic gymnastics was an all-purpose medicine that would solve all our social problems. But that still didn’t enable me to suppress my conviction that it may all be nice physical exercise, but nothing more.
The blacksmith was supposed to hammer rhythmically, the locksmith polishes, and the carpenter planes. And peoples’ will was supposed be raised within them. What were people promising themselves from all this, and what was our real work worth in comparison? It was idealistic, unpractical gushing enthusiasm. (128; original)
Holek’s remarks, and the reactions of the community in which he lived, demonstrated how impossible it had become by 1912 to unify German society under the banner of Classicist, humanist principles. Orpheus did not unify, but rather caused dissention and contradiction. Very shortly after the performance of Orpheus in Hellerau, Jaques-Dalcroze had to leave Germany and abandon his school with the outbreak of World War One. Ironically, the spectacular Festspielhaus in Hellerau became not a site of cultural pilgrimage, but rather a field hospital for soldiers, and later, during National Socialism, barracks for the Reichspolizei, SA and SS. After 1945 the Red Army moved in, remaining until the Berlin wall fell in 1989. For almost a century then, daunting violence and the rhythm of guns and marches disrupted Jaques-Dalcroze’s far too innocent aesthetic dream of a beautiful classic walk.
# The contradictions of Hellerau were nowhere more evident than in the careers of its dancers. Whereas many of the young gymnasts who danced as furies went on to establish major careers in modern dance (including Mary Wigman, Rosalia Chladek, Bertha von Zoete, Grete Wiesenthaler, and Micho Ito), nothing was later heard of the gymnast who danced Eurydice, and of the nymphs who followed in her footsteps. The violence of the furies, instead of the classicist Eurydice, seemed to resonate in the minds of the young women dancing and of the audience members with feelings they considered central to their own lives and time. Jaques-Dalcroze’s fiercely independent furies left him because they no longer wanted to submit to the rhythms of his chosen music (Suzanne Perrottet 92–93). The fury became so much part of the modern dancer’s image, that some observers stereotypically identified the independence they required for their careers with qualities of anger or madness. When Rudolf von Delius first met Mary Wigman in 1914, he wrote that she was “wild, tall, electric. Almost like a fury” (Odom 51). The desires of these furies, and of the audience members who followed them, could not be met by following in the blissful steps of Eurydice. Such unsettled spectators felt a need for a Freudian exploration of the unconscious, and for a Dionysian conflict that was left unresolved in Jaques-Dalcroze’s Apollonian production—a production that would thus continue to torment and disrupt the entire twentieth–century tradition of neoclassical music visualization.
Emmanuel, Marie François Maurice. * Bar-sur-Aube 2 mai 1862 — † Paris 14 décembre 1938. Compositeur et musicologue. Sa famille s'installe à Beaune en Côte d'Or en 1869.
Il suit des cours de piano avec un professeur nommé Ravazzi. Il passe son baccalauréat à Dijon et sur les conseils du marquis Charles d'Ivry (qui est compositeur), il s'inscrit au Conservatoire de musique de Paris en 1880. Il suit les cours de Savart en solfège, de Théodore Dubois pour l'harmonie, de Bourgault-Ducoudray pour l'histoire de la musique et la composition avec Léo Delibes. Il suit également des études classiques de philologie et d'histoire de l'art à la Sorbonne et à l'école du Louvre. Il obtient sa licence de lettres en 1887.
Sa manière de traiter les rythmes et d'introduire les modes anciens lui vaut la censure de Léo Delibes, ce qui ne lui permet pas de concourir pour le Prix de Rome. Il prend alors des cours avec Ernest Guiraud et se lie avec Debussy.
En 1896, il obtient son doctorat avec une thèse sur les danses dans la Grèce antique. En 1898, le Collège de France décide de créer une chair d'histoire de la musique pour Maurice Emmanuel, mais l'opposition de Berthelot ne permet pas de faire aboutir le projet. Jusqu'en 1904, il enseigne l'histoire dans le secondaire. Rémunéré comme maître de chapelle, ses recherches sur le plain chant conduisent à sa démission en 1906. Il est nommé professeur d'histoire de la musique au Conservatoire de Paris en 1909, en remplacement de Bourgault-Ducoudray. On compte Migot, Casadesus et Messiaen parmi ses élèves. De 1877 à 1938 il a composé 73 opus, mais n'en a conservé que 30.
Catalogue des oeuvres
Principaux éditeurs : Durand, Heugel, Lemoine, Salabert ; les manuscrits sont en possession de la famille Emmanuel.
* 1882-1911 (opus 14), 3 Pièces pour orgue et harmonium
* 1886 (op. 1), Pierrot peintre pantomime en 2 tableaux livret de M. Emmanuel & F. Régamey, pour alto ou mezzo, récitant et orchestre. Créé à la Radio Française en septembre 1938
* 1887 (opus 2), Sonate pour violoncelle et piano
* 1890 (opus 3), Ouverture pour un conte gai d'après P. Bergon & E. Meurant, pour orchestre
* 1893 (opus 4), Sonatine n° 1 dite Bourguignonne
* 1897 (opus 5), Sonatine n° 2 dite Pastorale
* 1902 (opus 7), Zingaresca, fantaisie pour 2 piccolos, 2 pianos, timpanon et cordes
* 1902 (opus 6), Sonate en ré mineur pour violon et piano
* 1903 (opus 8), Quatuor de cordes en si bémol majeur
* 1905 (opus 9), O filii pour soliste et chœur
* 1907 (opus 10), Suite sur des airs populaires grecs pour violon et piano
* 1907 (opus 11), Sonate en trio pour flûte, clarinette et piano
* 1908 (opus 12, 1), In memoriam (R. Vallery-Radot) pour voix soliste, violon, violoncelle et piano
* 1908 (opus 12, 2), Musiques, 12 chansons sur des textes de L. de Launay : «Crépuscules et nocturnes») pour soliste avec accompagnement piano
* 1911 (opus 13), 3 odelettes anacréontiques sur des textes de R. Belleau et P. de Ronsard pour voix soliste, flûte et piano
* 1913 (opus 15), 30 chansons bourguignonnes du pays de Beaune, d'après des chants populaires recueillis par C. Bigarne, A. Bourgeois & C. Masson, pour voix soliste et piano (arrangement du n° pour chœur et orchestre 1914-1915 ; du n° 10 pour voix soliste et orchestre 1932-1936
* 1916-1918 (opus 16), Prométhée enchaîné, opéra en 3 actes, livret de M. Emmanuel, d'après Eschyle, Créé au théâtre des Champs-Élysées à Paris le 23 novembre 1959
* 1916 (opus 16), Prologue de Prométhée enchaîné pour orchestre
* 1919 (opus 18), Symphonie n° 1 en la majeur , A, op.18, 1919;
* 1920 (opus 19), Sonatine n° 3 pour piano, 1920;
* 1920 (opus 20), Sonatine n° 4 sur des modes hindous, pour piano
* 1921-1923 (opus 21) Salamine, opéra en 3 actes d'après Eschyle, orchestré en 1924, révisé en 1927, créé à l'Opéra de Paris le 19 juin 1929
* 1923-1928 (opus 21) Ouverture de Salamine
* 1925 (opus 23), Sonatine n° 6 pour piano, 1925;
* 1925 (opus 22), Sonatine n° 5 alla francese pour piano, 1925
* 1926 (opus 24), Vocalise pour alto, baryton et clarinette
* 1930-1931 (opus 25), Symphonie n° 2 dite Bretonne en la majeur
* 1934-1935 (opus 26), Suite française pour orchestre [5 des 6 mouvements de la Sonatine n° 5]
* 1935 (opus 27), 2 chansons populaires, d'après des rondes populaires pour voix soliste et piano (opus 27, 2 : pour voix soliste, viole de gambe ou violoncelle, piano]
* 1936 (opus 29), Sonate en si bémol majeur pour cornet ou bugle et piano
* 1936 (opus 28), Amphitryon, texte de Plaute, traduit par A. Ernout, créé à Paris , Amphithéâtre de l’Institut d’art et d’archéologie, le 20 février 1937
* 1938 (opus 30), Le poème du Rhône, poème symphonique d'apr_ès Frédéric Mistral [orchestré par M. Béclard d’Harcourt]
Écrits
Essai sur l’orchestrique grecque (thèse). Université de Paris 1895 ; Paris 1895 ; traduction en anglais 1916)
Histoire de la langue musicale. Paris 1911 ; 1928
Traité de l’accompagnement modal des psaumes. Lyons 1913
Préface à R. Bertrand, «Coins de Bourgogne», Beaune 1919
Grèce, art gréco-romain. Dans A. Lavignac & L. de La Laurencie (éditeurs), «Encyclopédie de la musique et dictionnaire du Conservatoire» (I, 1) 1921, p. 377–537
avec R. Moissenet, La polyphonie sacrée. Oullins 1923
Préface à P. Brunold, «Traité des signes et agréments employés par les clavecinistes français des XVII et XVIII siècles», Lyon 1925
Préface à A. Dandelot, «Résumé d’histoire de la musique», Paris 1925
Pelléas et Mélisande de Claude Debussy. Paris 1926 ; 1950
1930, César Franck. Paris 1930
Préface à R. Bertrand, «La montagne de Beaune», Beaune 1932
Anton Reicha. Paris 1936
Oeuvre éditoriale
Avec M. Teneo, J.-P. Rameau, «Oeuvres complètes» (17) Paris 1913 ; (18) Paris 1924
Bibliographie
* BÉCLARD D’HARCOURT M., L’oeuvre musical de Maurice Emmanuel. Dans «Revue musicale» (152–155) 1935, p. 22–33
* BERNARD R., Maurice Emmanuel. dans «Information musicale» 16 janvier 1942
* BRILLANT M., Maurice Emmanuel. Dans «Le correspondant» 25 août 1929
* BRUYR J., Hommage à Maurice Emmanuel. Dans «Guide du concert» 28 novembre 1963
* CARLSON E. A., Maurice Emmanuel and the Six Sonatinas for Piano (thèse). Boston University 1974
* CHANTAVOINE J., Prométhée enchaîné. Dans «La Revue de Bourgogne» 3 avril 1919
* CORTOT A., La musique française de piano (2). Paris 1932 ; 1948
* DUFOURCQ NORBERT, Petite histoire de la musique en Europe. Paris 1942 ; 1973 (11e édition)
* DUMESNIL R, Maurice Emmanuel et la musique modale. Dans «Le monde» 17 février 1955
* — , La musique contemporaine en France. Paris 1929
* — , La musique en France entre les deux guerres 1919-1939. Geneva, 1946
* —, Maurice Emmanuel, musicien français. Dans «Le flambeau» 16 novembre 1935
* DURBIN J., Hommage à Maurice Emmanuel. Dans «La Croix» 9 novembre 1963
* EMMANUEL F. (éditeur), Maurice Emmanuel et les musiciens suisses. Dans «Revue musicale de Suisse romande» (43, 2) 1990, p. 89-95
* —, Maurice Emmanuel et son temps (1862–1938) : lettres inédites. Dans «Revue internationale de musique française» (11) 1983, p. 7-92
* GAGNEBIN H., Un grand compositeur oublié : Maurice Emmanuel. Dans «Tribune de Genève» 12 octobre 1963
* HOÉRÉE A., A. SURCHAMP & M. EMMANUEL, Maurice Emmanuel. Dans «Zodiaque» (139), 1984, p. 2-38
* LALOY LOUIS, Un musicien de grande classe : Maurice Emmanuel. Dans «Page musicale» 23 décembre 1938
* LANDORMY P., La musique française après Debussy. Paris 1943
* LARROUMET G., Sur une conférence de Maurice Emmanuel, consacrée à la danse grecque. Dans «Le temps» 9 février 1897
* LONCHAMPT J., Musique bourguignonne de Beaune à Auxerre. Dans «Journal musical français» (3), 1951, p. 2, 16
* MICHEL A., Modernité de Maurice Emmanuel. Dans «Éducation musicale» (242), 1977, p. 71-73
* Numéro spécial de la «Revue de musicologie» (410-411) 1988 [reprise et élargissement du numéro spécial de 1947
* Numéro spécial de la «Revue musicale» (206) 1947
* PROD’HOMME J. G., Maurice Emmanuel. Dans «Rivista musicale italiana» (43), Milan 1939, p. 105-108
* SAMAZEUILH G., Musiciens de mon temps, Paris 1945
* SOUZA R. DE, Maurice Emmanuel et le rythme poétique. Dans «Mercure de France» (291) 1939, p. 693–700
* STEVENSON R., Maurice Emmanuel : a Belated Apologia. Dans «Music and Letters» (40) 1959, p. 154–165
* STEWART H. F., Maurice Emmanuel. Dans «Music and Letters» (20) 1939, p. 278–280
* VALETTE M.-C., Contribution à l’étude de l’oeuvre musical de Maurice Emmanuel (thèse). Université de Strasbourg 1972
* VUILLERMOZ ÉMILE, Études sur Salamine. Dans «Candide» 27 juin 1929
A pupil of Delibes at the Paris Conservatoire, Maurice Emmanuel also studied a wide range of subjects at the Sorbonne and the Ecole du Louvre. The disapproval expressed by Delibes of an early composition led him to study with Bizet's friend Guiraud. Having specialised in a study of ancient Greek dance, he was eventually appointed to the Conservatoire as teacher of the history of music, a position he held for 25 years. His interest in earlier music is reflected in his modal musical language.
Stage Works
Emmanuel's interest in Greek drama is apparent from his two operas based on Aeschylus, Prométhée enchaîné (Prometheus Bound) and Salamine.
Orchestral Music
There is a literary basis to Emmanuel's two symphonies, as there is to his Le poème du Rhône (Poem of the Rhone), derived from the poet Mistral. Recommended Recording
Symphonies Nos. 1 and 2 Le poème du Rhône
Marco Polo 8.223507
Chamber Music
Emmanuel's chamber music includes a trio for flute, clarinet and piano, a string quartet and the early cello sonata that earned such condemnation from Delibes.
Piano Music
Piano music by Emmanuel consists chiefly of six sonatinas, the earlier with programmatic titles and the fourth based on Hindu modes.
Emmanuel was een leerling van Delibes, Dubois, Guiraud en Gevaert (Brussel).
Hij studeerde na zijn conservatoriumstudie nog aan de Sorbonne, waar hij in 1895 promoveerde.
Hij componeerde opera's (Prométhée enchaîné, 1916-1918, Salamino, 1921-1928), 2 symfonieën, pianomuziek en liederen.
Publiceerde o.a. over Debussy's Pelléas et Mélisande en over het Bourgondisch volkslied.
Maurice Emmanuel (1862-1938)
Les mélodies - intégrale
“La mélodie française” Vol. 6
Florence Katz, mezzo
Lionel Peintre, baryton
Marie-Catherine Girod, piano...
Trop longtemps le savant aura occulté le compositeur, le professeur aura masqué le créateur imaginatif, puissant, à l’humanisme débordant. Parmi toutes ses œuvres, il y a les mélodies, toutes rassemblées ici, avec notamment le boulversant In Memoriam.
For too long the musicologist overshadowed the composer, the teacher masked the creator, who was in fact imaginative, powerful and of overflowing humanity. Among his works are the songs, gathered together here, with in particular the overwhelming In Memoriam.
BUCHHOLTZ, H. Die Tanzkunst des Euripides.
Aalen,1985,reprint 1971-ed., wrappers, 191 pp. (Neudruck mit Genehmigung des Verlags B.G. Teuber, Stuttgart) Orders by email. . ISBN 3511008492
EUR 29.40 = appr. US$ 36.46
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HARPASTUM (a(rpasto/n from a(rpazw=) was a ball, used in a game of which we have no accurate account; but it appears both from the etymology of the word and the statement of Galen (Peri mikra=j Sfai/raj, c2, p902, ed. Kühn), that a ball was though among the players, each of whom endeavoured to obtain possession of it (comp. Pollux, ix.105, 106; Athen. i p14F). Hence Martial (iv.19.6) speaks of the harpasta pulverulenta. The game required a great deal of bodily exertion (Martial, vii.67.4; comp. xiv.48). (See Becker, Gallus, vol. i p276; Krause, Gymnastik und Agonistik der Hellenen, vol. i pp307, 308.) [J.Y.]
Author Sittl, Karl
Title Die Gebarden der Griechen und Romer / Carl Sittl
Location
Imprint Hildesheim : G. Olms, 1970
Year 1970
Pages iv, 385 p., 4 leaves of plates (two folded) : ill.
Subject Quintilianus --Views on gesture; Quintilianus --Views on rhetoric; Gesture--Greece; Gesture--Rome; Gesture in art; Gesture in literature; Classical antiquities;
Note In "Anhang" (pp.[350]-362): Quintilians Lehre vom Gestus (in Latin)
Note Reprint. Originally published: Leipzig : B. G. Teubner, 1890. Added original T.-P.
Language GER
Language LAT
Title-a Quintilians Lehre vom Gestus
Title-a [Institutio oratoria. 1970]
Ad.Author Quintilianus
"Pantomime artists of Greece were of various ranks, according to the plane of thought represented in their work. Ethologues represented moralities, or viooeoes; they "depicted the emotions and the conduct of man so faithfully, that their art served as a rigorous censorship and taught useful lessons," writes De 1'Aulnaye, in De la Saltation Théátrale. They were not only artists, but philosophers of a moral standard of the utmost height and purity: the poems of one of them, Sophron of Syracuse, were among the writings kept at hand by Plato during his last hours. Ovueikou were pantomimists of lesser rank, whose work was principally comedy of a farcical nature—though the word seems to have the primitive meaning of "chorister."
Emmanuel, Marie François Maurice. * Bar-sur-Aube 2 mai 1862 — † Paris 14 décembre 1938. Compositeur et musicologue. Sa famille s'installe à Beaune en Côte d'Or en 1869.
Emmanuel, Maurice (1862 - 1938)
Maurice Emmanuel
Maurice Emmanuel (1862-1938)
