To see Madame Genee once again recalled to my mind
the Gen& of twenty years ago, when she was still at the height of her powers, the greatest—was she not ?—of all the ballerinas of her time. She had the exactness of technique, the severe precision of one who had mastered all the laws of the old tradition, with a combination of power and charm which transcended any tradition. She did not win us by strangeness, as the Russians did ; but she triumphed without it. I cannot say that she was her old self at the Coliseum this week. But she did not attempt to be, and so avoided a mistake which Pavlova made when last I saw her, executing difficult steps which revealed the stiffness and fragility of her figure so that one trembled lest it should snap. Madame Genre was content with a few quiet steps, lending moral support by her presence to the work of the Association of Operatic Dancing, which, thanks to her untiring efforts during the last ten years, has become a power in the land. When or if the National Theatre comes into being it will have no difficulty in creating at once a native corps de ballet.
* *
Previous page
