The ranks of the Russian ballet dancers are of a peculiar bureaucratic order, beginning with the simple _danseuse_ and ending with the _prima ballerina_, which is a rank similar in the hierarchy to that of a full general. Lydia Kyasht, for instance, is a lieutenant in her rank of _première sujet_. Pavlova and Karsavina are _ballerinas_, while only Kshesinskaya and Breobrashenskaya are _prima ballerinas_. Among the Russian dancers known abroad, Lydia Kyasht and Lydia Lopokova are next to Pavlova brilliant exponents of the Russian classic or so called ‘Old Ballet.’ They have both impressed us as sincere and eloquent artists of their school, the one romantic, the other extremely poetic. The ethereal twists and glides of Lopokova surpass by far those of Pavlova in their peculiar fairy-like lines and poses. Kyasht appeals to us immensely on account of her absolutely classic plastic and enchanting poses, which add an exotic air to her enchanting expressions. In introducing Pavlova, Mordkin and other more or less prominent exponents of the Russian classic ballet to America and England Max Rabinoff has been the practical spirit behind the scenes. An authority on the dance, Mr. Rabinoff had the conviction, even when the Russian dancers were yet unknown in America, that they would ultimately triumph as they did. To his persistent efforts the Russian ballet owes its success in America. The classic Russian ballet is a pure Byzantine piece of stage art. It mirrors the bizarre glow and colors of the cathedrals, the mystic romanticism of the Kremlin walls and cupolas, the Tartar minarets, the vaulted _teremas_ (Boyar houses), the lonely steppes, the gloomy penal colonies, the luxurious palaces and twisted towers of a semi-Oriental country. Strongly replete with the character of the passing Boyar life, it is an era in itself. CHAPTER XV THE ERA OF DEGENERATION Nineteenth century decadence; sensationalism--Loie Fuller and the Serpentine dance--Louise Weber, Lottie Collins and others. During the last half of the nineteenth century the art of dancing reached such a low level that Max Nordau said: ‘It is a fleeting pastime for women and youths, and later on its last atavistic survival will be the dancing of children.’ An English writer of that time wrote aptly: ‘In these days of culture, when the public mind is being trained to perceive and appreciate whatever is lovely in nature and art, when music is universally studied, when there is ample evidence of general improvement in taste and design in our streets, our buildings, on the walls and in the furniture of our homes, is it not strange that a single art, one which was in classic times deemed worthy to rank with poetry and painting--the art of dancing--has degenerated to such an extent that its practice, as frequently exhibited both in public and in private, is a positive disgrace to the age? This is no exaggerated statement. It is one which I think any competent critic is hardly likely to deny.’