Until I saw "Le Carnaval," although I had realized that the art of the Russians was not narrow or local, and that they could dance in several languages, I fear I had not credited them with humor. The true comic spirit (which makes us smile, not laugh in the manner so offensive to Mr. Bernard Shaw) rules this delicious episode, which is a setting of Schumann's music in the way that music can be a setting of words, completing their message and intensifying their significance. For the first time I will use the word "acting" in connection with the Russian ballet. The comedy in "Le Carnaval" is of a very high order. The story is interpreted more through genuine pantomime than through dancing, which perhaps accounts for the popularity of this particular ballet with us English, who still understand the nature of good acting better than the nature of good dancing, although we are at the present time much attracted by dancing. A real note of freakish farce is in this "Carnaval." The dancing itself is freakish. It is the simplest, silliest thing! A bit of fun--yet to give us this bit of fun what serious work was needed! The grave young Nijinsky is transformed into a mischievous child! [Illustration: 0050] The Corps de Ballet |I NOTICED in "Carnaval" the individual work done by each individual of the _corps de ballet_, yet always done in such a way as to contribute to the harmonious effect of the whole. The Pierrot (Bolm), the Harlequin (Nijinsky), the Columbine (Karsavina), played the leading parts incomparably, but that was not surprising. It was far more surprising to see in every member of the ballet the talent of a "star." [Illustration: 9051] They were not there just to wear their 1860 costumes well and to form themselves into mechanical groups. The entire _corps_ vibrated with life, did their full share in the dancing and miming. They never appeared to be waiting for an opportunity for distinction; they were content to distinguish themselves. [Illustration: 0052] Le Spectre de la Rose