Marie Taglioni: Precise and Romantic Aesthetics
Here is a short paper I wrote for my History of Fashion class this past semester. I was so delighted to get to dig in to the history of ballet a bit, especially to explore the life of such a fascinating woman. Enjoy!
-Sarah Finley
It
could be argued that the aesthetics of dance are definitive of its artistic
merit. Regardless of one’s personal opinion on the matter, it is fact that
aesthetics are never the less a crucial part of this form of expression. And,
as follows, dress in dance is a subject worthy of serious thought as it relates
to the history of ballet and the history of fashion. During the 19th
century, a reformer of dance, fashion, and dress in dance arose to fame and
captivated Europe at the height of the Romantic era. Marie Taglioni appears to
have been a master of self-presentation, her look and dance style seemingly
honed by her career. But a lifestyle of
neatness and precision in appearance seems to be a most personal characteristic
of Taglioni’s life, as demonstrated by her influence on modern dress and
aesthetics from the stage, and, most notably, upon her retirement.
Marie
Taglioni once described herself in this way:
I
was not handsome; the upper half of my
body left something to be wished for, I was slender without being thin; my legs were very well shaped, a bit elongated, but well proportioned; my foot, remarkably
small and graceful. I could walk on stage like nobody else. Finally, though it may seem ridiculous what I am going
to tell you, I had spiritual feet
and hands. I’ve always avoided grimacing and simpering. When I was dancing, I smiled, I didn’t laugh; I was happy.[1]
Described
by others in contemporary and present history as “plain”, and despite what she
thought of herself, Marie seemed to posses the sort of ethereal look and grace that
both enraptured men and inspired women to embrace the new romantic aesthetic of
the 1830s. Taglioni’s title role in the 1832 ballet La Sylphide embodied this blossoming ideal of beauty.[2] In
historian Lodewijk Muns’s biography of Taglioni, he explains how “‘Sylphide’
was a common epithet for young, slender and gracious women in this time period.”
It is little wonder then that this was to be the defining point of Tagliani’s
career—staring in a production that was crafted as a vehicle for her by her
father and tenor Adolphe Nourrit—she embodied the Romantic aesthetic messages
the ballet wished to portray.[3]
Writer
and ballet critic Theopile Gautier wrote in 1844: “This ballet marked a quite
new era in choreography, and introduced romanticism into the realm of
Terpsichore. … That new style caused a great abuse of white gauze, tulle, and
tarlatan; shades dissolved in to mist by means of transparent dress. White was
almost the only colour used.”[4]
Ballerinas, seemingly, were transformed in to floating fairies, defying gravity
and living amongst the clouds. To add to this look, Taglioni perfected two
specific and new techniques: point work and leaps. An anonymous commentator
wrote in 1836: “Each pose, her smallest movements, are worthy of an artist’s
brush… one has to admit that she does swirl as a light puff of smoke on the
morning breeze.”[5]
Ballet critic Pyotr Il’ich Yurkevich once described Taglioni as “a light
butterfly… like a bird of paradise … this goddess over whom all Europe had lost
its head” and was acquainted with her both in professional and casual settings.
His recollections of her appearance upon first meeting her are valuable for
understanding Marie’s overall sense of dress and grace:
To
the right was a corner divan covered in crimson damask, and seated on it, in a
light white dress drawn by a
rose-coloured sash, was Marie Taglioni, surrounded by several men guests sitting in armchairs.
Still not thirty, blond, with winning features and a kind, affectionate smile, she was svelte, like
a poplar. … I was beside myself over her words, and could only bow silently and kiss her little hand, which
she did not withdraw.[6]
Thus,
not only did her white tutus give the illusion of angelic movement, but, as is
obvious, so did her body, completing the aesthetic behind this new “look.” Fashionable
women across Europe followed suite, adapting these ideas of ethereal beauty within
the realms of everyday dress. Silhouettes gave women the appearance of being
“full of air” while their now shorter skirts could show off dainty, ballerina-esque
feet. [7]
The
most well documented accounts of Taglioni’s life, habits, and style of dress
are those which were recorded at the end of her life upon her retirement. In
the 1870s, Marie was living in London and teaching private lessons to middle
and upper class adults and children. One of her young pupils, Margaret Rolfe, made
note of her time as Taglioni’s “favorite student” and captured candied,
personal moments with the great ballerina in the mediums of the written word
and pencil drawings from 1876 to 1880:
She
was always very neat & tidy, when
she removed her bonnet, she put a little screw of paper in all the loops. Sometimes she let me help her do this; but
I was not allowed to put a roll of tissue
paper from one loop to another as this disturbed the set, when the paper was removed. The strings were rolled up
and pinned. … I was never aloud alone with her bonnet,
after the day, when I put it on, all on one side, and danced into the room,
before her most select class, shouting, while I banged my tambourine, ‘I’m Queen
Victoria.’[8]
Margaret
also recorded memories of others close to Taglioni, such as Mlle Muller,
Taglioni’s in-house dance accompanist, who informed her that Marie was
meticulous about her shoes; if they were not placed “neatly side by side” she
would get out of bed to set them just the way she liked them, no matter how
tiring her day had been.[9]
Margaret
spent time capturing Taglioni performing daily tasks as well, in what appear to
be stylized artistic interpretations. These drawings offer first hand insight
to what Taglioni wore on a daily basis, off the stage and out of the dance
studio.[10]
She is seen depicted in dress typical of both the late 1860s and early 1870s;
it is certainly not unusual that as Taglioni was an older woman she would have
been slower to adopt the changing fashions of the time; her close friend and
shopping partner Charlotte Beare objected to Taglioni going to the beach by
herself because Taglioni still wore long, full crinolines and insisted on using
the ladder down to the sand on her own while carrying her dog.[11] Reusing
past seasons styles was not uncommon, and as Taglioni was in retirement,
probably a wise action in regards to her budget. But, this did not mean that
she did not enjoy fine things. Charlotte’s sister Augusta made note in an
undated letter the happening upon of Taglioni and her sister while out shopping
one day:
When
the assistant arrived with the latest model from Paris the poor thing did not
have an easy time. Madame
Taglioni objected to the boxpleat at the back and Charlotte said the fringe would be ruined the first time
she sat down. … Madame Taglioni will choose a less
heavy material and trimming. After the mantle, they each bought a bonnet. They were still there trying on bonnets when the
shop was about to close.[12]
As
author Sarah Woodcock carefully observed, “[Taglioni] did not seem to have extravagant
tastes, though she liked things to be of good quality.”[13]
Margaret Rolfe bears witness to this fact, making note in her journals that
Taglioni used “very valuable lace, edged with very narrow lace braid, so that
it was easy to remove it from one dress to another.”[14]
This lace she cleaned and ironed herself with care and proudly displayed on her
brocaded evening gown.
Taglioni’s
mid-career fame and enthusiasm for fine things crossed paths with the booming
shawl industry. Muns tells us, “A German dictionary of 1863conatins an entry Taglionishawls, explaining: Shawls named after Marie Taglioni; are made
of wool, with a crossbar structure.”[15] Taglioni
also enjoyed creating items of clothing for herself and others; she loved to
knit and do needlework and also supervised the creation of a “fancy dress” for
Margret to wear when sitting for a photo.[16]
Her work was neat, detailed and meticulous. An example remains intact in the
collection of the Nederlands Muziek Instituut: a purple, gray and black knit
scarf; a gift for Baron Meynadier, director of the royal theaters in Paris.[17]
Meynadier appears to have been a great admirer of Taglioni’s talent; in 1827 he
had been assigned to have a pair of ballet shoes created for her. When asked
for whom he was commissioning such a gift he replied, “For a young dancer who
is said to be without equal and who has the most ravishing foot in the world.”[18]
It
is in retirement that one can best gain a picture of Taglioni’s careful
precision in dress and daily life as a woman, not simply as a dancer; though,
her life can rarely be separated from her practiced art form. Seeing Marie
through the eyes of contemporaries and a student gives one the insight in to
her technique of individual expression and aestheticism. She was a strong
proponent of quality goods and a personal devotee of handmade clothing and
gifts. Whether through purposed intent or happenstance, Taglioni, almost merely
by being herself, was an influential player in the development of women’s
fashion in the 19th century and an inspiration for those like
Margaret Rolfe who would take her ideas in to a new era.
Fig 1: Marie Taglioni. Lithograph by Joseph Kriehuber, c. 1839. Victoria and Albert Museum, London.
Fig. 2. Lithograph of Marie Taglioni in 1831, a
year before her defining role in Le Sylphide, modeling a costume of the period.
Depicted by Chalon. Lithograph by Richard James Lane. Henry Beard Print
Collection; Victoria and Albert Museum, London.
Fig 3: Marie Taglioni as Sylphide. Lithograph by
Alexandre Lacauchie, c. 1832. Henry Beard Print Collection; Victoria and Albert
Museum, London.
Fig 4a
Fig
4b
Fig 4 a&b. A day dress and cape in the
romantic style. Note the billowing sleeves and ankle length skirt. c.
1830-1834, printed cotton, British; Victoria and Albert Museum, London.
Fig 5. Margaret Rolfe’s drawing of Marie Taglioni with a
list of her most celebrated roles. The
Book of Marie Taglioni by Margaret Rolfe. Theater Museum and Victoria and
Albert Museum, London.
Fig 6. Margaret Rolfe’s depiction of herself as she receives
a reward from Marie Taglioni after a private dance lesson. The Book of Marie
Taglioni by Margaret Rolfe. Theater Museum and Victoria and Albert Museum,
London.
Fig 7. Maragaret Rolfe’s depiction of herself, Marie Taglioni, and her dog, Grisi, at the
seashore. The Book of Marie Taglioni
by Margaret Rolfe. Theater Museum and Victoria and Albert Museum, London.
Fig 8. Scarf made by Marie Taglioni for Baron Meynadier,
c. 1860. Taglioni Collection, Nederlands Muziek
Instituut, The Hague.
Bibliography
Wiley,
Roland John. Images of "La Sylphide": Two Accounts by a Contemporary
Witness of Marie
Taglioni'sAppearances in St. Petersburg. Dance
Research: The Journal of the Society
for Dance Research, Vol. 13, No. 1, Ivor Guest 75th Birthday Celebration
Issue (Summer, 1995), pg. 22
Woodcock,
Sarah C. “Margaret Rolfe's Memoirs of Marie Taglioni: Part 1.” Dance Research: The Journal of the Society for Dance Research, Vol. 7, No.
1, Dance History Issue (Spring, 1989)
Woodcock,
Sarah C. “Margaret Rolfe's Memoirs of Marie Taglioni: Part 2.” Dance Research: The Journal of the Society for Dance Research, Vol. 7, No.
2, Robin Howard Memorial I ssue
(Autumn, 1989)
[2]
See Fig 2
[3]
See Fig 3
[5]Roland John Wiley. Images of
"La Sylphide": Two Accounts by a Contemporary Witness of Marie
Taglioni'sAppearances in St. Petersburg. Dance
Research: The Journal of the Society for Dance Research, Vol. 13, No. 1,
Ivor Guest 75th Birthday Celebration Issue (Summer, 1995), pg. 22
[6]
Ibid pg. 26-27
[7] See
Fig 4a&b
[8] Sarah C. Woodcock. “Margaret
Rolfe's Memoirs of Marie Taglioni: Part 1.” Dance
Research: The Journal of the Society for Dance Research, Vol. 7, No. 1,
Dance History Issue (Spring, 1989), pg. 6
[10]
See Fig 5-7
[11] Sarah C. Woodcock. “Margaret Rolfe's Memoirs of Marie Taglioni:
Part 2.” Dance Research: The Journal of
the Society for Dance Research, Vol. 7, No. 2, Robin Howard Memorial Issue
(Autumn, 1989), pg. 62-63
[12]
Ibid pg. 61
[13]
Ibid pg. 56
[14]
Ibid pg. 68
[16] Woodcock,
part 2, pg. 68
[17] See
Fig 4; Muns. A life on toe tip, Part 6 bric-a-brac
[18]
Ibid
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