CHAPTER VIII.

ROPE DANCERS IN MODERN TIMES.

Decline and Revival of Rope Dancing-Turks in Favour-Hall, the Favourite at Charles II.'s Court-Competitions of Artists under Louis XIV.-Dancers at the Fair of St. Germain-Nicolet-The Empire America - Bell-ringers of Seville The Natives of Tahiti.

WHILE Italy was producing these artists, in France rope dancing had become debased and degraded—a fortunate result due no doubt to the great movement of the Renaissance. During the re-awakening of thought in the reaction against the rudeness and the coarse pleasures of the middle ages, mountebanks and jugglers were not held in high esteem; and the supremacy of mind succeeded to the worship of matter. In the reign of Henri II., however, a clever Turk made his appearance, and won applause by his performance with a basin upon two ropes, the one extended beneath the other so as to permit of his passing between them, executing marvellous feats the while. Sauval is the authority who speaks of this dancer, drawing upon the records of the historian of the time, who professes great admiration for the performance. Whatever his merits, is it necessary to agree with M. Fournel, who, with a solemnity that is very comical, says, "This Turk was one of the restorers of the haute école, and we partly owe to him that revival of the tight rope which was contemporaneous with renaissance of letters ?"

We notice that from this time many Turks appeared at public shows in France, Italy, and England. The Turks were then regarded as bugbears in Europe, and were held in such detestation that the popes launched anathemas and preached up holy wars against them. A Turk was in himself a curiosity, but if he was also a tight-rope dancer, and thus a curiosity in a double sense, he was all the more certain to "draw." For this reason the purveyors of public spectacles made no scruple at this time of producing jugglers who were Turks only in appearance, just as later managers have produced savages who never saw any wilderness more uncommon than an Irish bog, and troupes of (City) Arabs much less unsophisticated than the simpletons who came to stare at them.

Was that a Turk of pure blood whom Bonnet mentions in his "Histoire de la Danse?" Bonnet saw him at Naples dancing on a rope extended across a wide street from the windows of the fifth floor, and using no balance-pole or counter-weights, though he had mattresses spread on the street beneath the whole range of the cord. Another Turk is mentioned whom the same author saw at the fair of St. Germain at the end of the seventeenth century, and who proved himself a most accomplished acrobat, performing wonders as a high leaper. He lost his life at the fair of Troyes, where one of his companions, an Englishman, also a famous dancer, greased the oblique rope upon which the Turk had to descend backwards preserving an upright attitude. Of course the fall was at once fatal. "It is common," adds Bonnet, gravely, "to witness similar plots, the results of envy against those who excel in the arts. History, especially in connection with painting and sculpture, furnishes us with many examples."

The eminence of the Turks as performers upon the rope remained for a long time undiminished. In London, in the reign of George II., a follower of the Prophet, ostensibly at least, did many marvels-such as juggling with oranges, without the assistance of a pole; but Strutt, the great English authority on such matters, says that the enthusiasm which he aroused was much diminished when, one of the oranges having fallen, it was perceived that the ball was really of lead, and was only painted in imitation of the well-known fruit. No doubt, however, the difficulty was the juggling, and the genuineness of the fruit, like the nationality of the performer, was a secondary matter,

But the prestige of England as an acrobat-producing country did not require to be upheld by Turkey. In the reign of Charles II. a native rope-dancer-Jacob Hall, whose portrait is preserved in Grainger's collection-won golden opinions in London. He was one of the handsomest men one could see, uniting in his form the grace of Adonis with the strength of Hercules. He enjoyed much good luck, even at the court and for some time "balanced the king" in the heart of the tender Castlemain, afterwards the Duchess of Cleveland, as may be seen in "Hamilton's Memoirs," and the chronicles and ballads of the time.

France was not behind England, and the age of Louis XIV. would not have been complete if the art of rope dancing had been at fault when the other arts flourished so conspicuously. But these mortals, accustomed to walk in the air, had very high pretensions, and encroached upon the province of the actors, who, consequently, made loud complaints. The drama certainly deserves greater patronage than acrobatic feats; and decrees, which often required to be renewed, confined them to the category of

shows at fairs-those of St. Germain, St. Ovide, and St. Laurent, especially the first, being the chief theatres of such exploits. Gradually a new system began to be introduced, and these entertainments were conducted on the principle of association. Individuals formed themselves into troupes, each member of which laboured for the good The rope-dancers were not merely hirelings in the pay of an entrepreneur, they were parts of a public company. Among the last of the unattached performers we may mention Trevelin, the first who danced upon the rope at Paris without a balance at the commencement of the seventeenth century, and another who, in 1649, fell into the Seine head foremost in crossing his lofty line from the tower of Nesle to that of Grand Prevôt. "He had, perhaps, forgotten," says M. Fournel, "to eat beforehand that root which serves to fortify performers of this kind against giddiness and stupor; but he had at least the prudence, on which he had afterwards reason to congratulate himself, to have his rope extended above the river." Bonnet also speaks of the marvellous herb referred to, and even states that the chamois and wild-goat browse upon it before climbing to the summits of the cliffs among which they dwell.

The companies acknowledged to be the most remarkable at the fair of St. Germain were those of Allard, of Bertrand, and of Maurice Vondrebeck. The last, as his name indicates, was a native of Holland. It is he, without doubt, who figures in a series of engravings, the work of Bonnard, in the "Bibliothèque Impérial." The pictures represent the great feats of two

couples of dancers, Dutch

and English, and a single Turk. According to M. Fournel, “They danced upon the cord armed from head to foot,

with their legs linked together, and their feet sunk in sabots or boots. They went through the flag trick, played the violin upon their back, upon their head, between their legs, and had with them monkeys, rats, and serpents, that imitated the cleverest feats of the rope-dancers."

The tradititions of the St. Germain fair and of other places not less frequented were continued by Nicolet, an exhibitor of marionettes, down to the eighteenth century. This man, who has made a name for himself in the art he professed, had a maxim by which he always squared his conduct before the public. It was never to astound the audience, but to hold them in suspense by a series of efforts, the gradation of which should be judiciously managed. With him every evolution led to another more astonishing, and the series closed with the most arduous and wonderful feat he knew. It was thus that arose the popular saying, "De plus en plus fort, comme chez Nicolet." It was not, however, to his intelligence that this saying could apply, for Nicolet was not remarkable for his sense. One day, he happened to pass by one of his musicians, who, sitting in his place in the orchestra, was letting his instrument lie idle, while the others were playing.

"What are you doing there, and why don't you play your part?" asked Nicolet.

"I am counting the rests," answered the musician.

"Oh, indeed!" cried Nicolet, overwhelming the man with abuse, "I have not engaged you to count the rests. Play like the others, or I shall dismiss you!"

It might be said that there was no occasion for his putting himself to expense, as he only directed wooden comedians. But it is here that l'esprit is most necessary, for actors who cannot speak are unable to correct the im