Giselle, 1841

Did I explain that the round-abouts with six or eight (or is it a hundred) streets meeting at the same intersection actually grew out of French hunting practices? The hunters liked to have all those paths converge on one point because it allowed them to surround and flush out their prey, whether deer, hare, rabbit or wild boar. Paris roads are built that way because they just incorporated existing hunting tracks...

Fact is, I'm feeling a bit like prey myself, surrounded by six or eight (or is it a hundred) pathways all pushing me toward the same point.  What I'm trying to say is I keep stumbling over more and more and more interconnection all leading to the same point of intersection. So much so, that tonight I'm feeling pretty dizzy.

I attended the ballet this evening. Giselle: an event arranged by AFIS to give us an opportunity to see the Palais Garnier, (the Paris Opera House), which was completed in 1875 and is built over a subterranean lake—the actual building The Phantom of the Opera was written about.

It intrigues me because of a dream I had this last year. I dreamed I was a young girl in some other time period and that I saw the theatre's chandelier fall. The dream was so vivid and felt so connected to my writing that I hunted down the chandelier, which of course, falls in Phantom of the Opera. That got me reading all the history I could find, and in fact, there really is a lake under the building and in 1896, one of the counter-weights on chandelier failed and someone was killed. All this inspired Gaston Leroux to write The Phantom of the Opera in 1909. I thought about these things tonight as I studied the chandelier, and about the fact that tonight is the 23rd day of my stay in Paris.

I also thought about the ballet. I couldn't help but wonder about it, it was stunning. I started thinking that Louis XIV had something to do with the birth of ballet, that ballet is intrinsically French. In fact, Louis XIV danced ballet. How curious. He  established ballet as a form of professional entertainment, establishing the first French Academy of Dance. Moliere wrote for the ballet, which in the beginning was presented as an aspect of opera—hence ballet at the Opera House.

The Paris Ballet is the oldest professional ballet company in existence. And what a beautiful performance it was. And the story—all about tragic love and death and ghosts. I watched it, thinking When was this written? I'd read a brief synopsis of the story before I went, but that was all. Since coming home, I've been perusing the Internet. And it turns out that Giselle was written by a man who has already made an appearance in my book, one of Hugo's circle who I described in theatre scene in my book. His name is Théophile Gautier and he wrote Giselle, inspired by a Heinrich Heine poem. It's considered the quintessential expression of Romanticism in ballet and was first performed in Paris in 1841. Gautier wrote the part for the woman he was in love with, the Italian ballerina, Carlotta Grisi. It was considered her greatest role. Gautier shows up in The Appassionata for the 1830 opening of Victor Hugo's, Hernani, a play that historians say marked the beginning of Romantic movement. Hugo's audience was full of wildly-dressed revolutionary types, artists and students who came to cheer for Hugo. Here's just a tiny bit:

Louise stared. The man's hair tumbled all the way to his waist and his trousers were a sea of green embellished with black velvet stripes. His impeccably tailored coat repeated the theme with exacting precision, faced in green satin and trimmed with a silk ribbon that performed the service conventionally rendered by collar and tie. His bright red doublet flashed and winked as he gave an exaggerated bow.

“Théophile Gautier, Madame. At your service.”

Louise stepped back, feeling Aristide’s hand slip from her arm to around her waist.

Gautier seemed amused. He swung his arm, gesturing toward the crowd. “No need for alarm, Madame. We’re but humble artists. Bohemians from Nouvelle Athènes and the village of Montmartre, students from le Quartier Latin. We're here to champion an ideal and have but one goal: to cheer on our friend whose poesy is gracing the stage this evening. France’s future.”

Gautier would go on to be an ardent defender of Romanticism. Giselle would be called the greatest ballet of its time. It's theme is Romantic: beautiful Giselle dies at the end of the first act and the entire second act is danced in a graveyard with a ghostly Giselle protecting her still-living lover from evil spirits that want to draw him to his death. He has come to her grave in grief and there's this wonderful dance between them where he can't quite see her and doesn't completely believe she's there. Somehow they staged it in such a way that Giselle seemed to disappear right in front of my eyes. It was magical and totally unexpected.

One more thing: we had box seats. It was a completely new experience for me; I've never sat in a "real" 19th century box seat before. Each little box sat six people two by two in three rows of chairs, going back. The box was very narrow and deep with a coat rack and hall area at the back of the box. It was locked; an usher had to let us in. The set-up surprised me, but I saw how it "worked," how it created privacy and yet allowed you to see and be seen. I saw how people could either acknowledge your existence, or not. It gave me much food for thought and was très cool Louise and Aristide sit in a box at Hugo's Hernani, and in my mind I had laid it out in two rows of say four chairs.

And speaking of Hugo, I've been listening to The Hunchback of Notre Dame and am totally blown away by it. Hugo is very witty! Clearly the "poet" in the Hunchback is a kind of self-portrait... he's writing about himself. In fact, Hugo started Hunchback in 1829 and stopped working on it to launch Hernani, which was panned by most of the critics. The play was hugely controversial with totally wild audiences that broke out in catcalls and hissing and cheering and applauding; the two sides ending in fist fights and even some duels. The play ran for forty-five nights, which was highly unusual, most runs were much shorter. Listening to the opening of The Hunchback of Notre Dame was like listening to Hugo talk about his experience with Hernani, self-deprecating humor and all.