“As for Taglioni, after taking the most daring leaps in her own easy and exquisitely graceful manner, she flits across the stage with a succession of steps, which, though perfectly simple, are executed with such inconceivable lightness and such enchanting grace, as invariably to call forth one of the most enthusiastic encores we ever remember to have witnessed; in fact, from beginning to end of the _divertissement_, all the spectators are kept in a state of excitement, which finds vent in clappings, in shoutings, and _bravas_, occasionally quite deafening.” The reference to the styles of Taglioni and Lucile Grahn as being almost “identical” is made additionally interesting by the discerning manner in which the critic contrasts the “buoyant energy of Grahn” with that “peculiar quietness” that marked Taglioni’s most daring efforts. Both had studied in the traditional school and to that extent were bound to be somewhat similar. Their differences were due to physique and temperament, Grahn, the fair Dane, was somewhat heavier in build, had always been stronger and was also younger than Taglioni, who, weakly in childhood, had always been of more _raffinée_ build and temperament, and was now perhaps a shade less energetic than in the days when she had delighted London with her earliest appearances some fifteen years before. Still, that “peculiar quietness” had always distinguished her and was that very quality which had made her so ideal an exponent of “Sylphide.” Lucile Grahn, who was tall, slim, with blue eyes and blonde hair, was said, as regards her dancing, to possess “less strength than Elssler, less flexibility than Taglioni, but more of both than anyone else.” She appeared in London each season until 1848, when the arrival of Jenny Lind created such a craze for Opera--and for Jenny Lind--that Ballet temporarily lost its attraction for London audiences. She comes close to our own times, for she died at Munich in the spring of 1907. CHAPTER XXX THE DECLINE AND REVIVAL Following what may be called “the Taglioni era” came a period of comparative dullness. There _were_ successors who charmed their audiences in London, in Paris, in Rome, Vienna and America. There was the brilliant Caroline Rosati; the stately Amalia Ferraris; dashing Rita Sangalli--who married a Baron; dainty Rosita Mauri; Petipa, Fabbri, and others whose name and fame were brilliant but transient. But these, you will say, were all foreigners. Had we no English ballet dancers? Well, it may safely be said that Ballet in England was never more thoroughly English, or more thoroughly banal, than for some twenty years before and after the Taglioni period.