Menuet, a short story about minuet, 1882
If you know a bit a social dance history, that title “menuet” (minuet) probably intrigued you.
There must have been a typo, right?
Because menuet, or minuet, is a baroque dance. THE dance of the 18th century. In 1882, it had been forgotten for a long time. Plus, dancing the minuet in a butsle dress doesn’t render the same as in a dress with panniers.
Yet, there is no mistake.
In 1882, Maupassant published a short story under the title “Menuet”.
When you think about it, it is not particularly atonishing. The late 19th century is the big time for historicism, a trend that concerns all arts. A few examples:
- Architecture: Viollet-le-Duc rebuilds Notre-Dame de Paris and the castle of Pierrefonds to is medieval-inspired liking. The “neo” and “revival” styles also have their moment of glory: neoclassicism, baroque revival, etc.
- Painting: academic painting considers history painting to be at the top of the hierarchy of genres. See, for example, Les Romains de la décadence, by Thomas Couture (1847), or the works of John William Waterhouse.
You get the idea.
This story aroused my curiosity. I asked myself several questions as I read the story.
How historically accurate is this story? Will we be able to recognise the dance? Is it possible to identify the characters?
I’m sharing the results of my research with you. And, let’s face it, a few tempting theories that have sprung up in my historian’s mind.
Being a French native speaker, I write in English as good as I can. Please let me know if you sot any error. thank you!
Menuet, a short story by Maupassant
Before my theories, let’s get some facts.
Menuet is a short story by Guy de Maupassant (1850-1893). It was published in the magazine Le Gaulois on November 20th 1882, and reprinted in Contes de la Bécasse the next year.
You can read the full story, in French, here. If you don’t have the time, here is a quick abstract.
Jean Bridelle, a young law student, goes for a walk every morning in the nursery of the Luxembourg Gardens. He regularly comes across an old man dressed in old-fashioned clothes. One day, the man, thinking he was alone, danced a few steps. Bridelle struck up a conversation. He learns that the old man used to be a dancing master at the Opera. The old man introduces him to his wife, La Castris, a once-famous dancer. The couple dance a minuet. Bridelle had to leave Paris for the provinces. When he returns two years later, the nursery has been destroyed. The narrator doesn’t know what happened to the dancers, but their memory haunts him « comme une blessure » (‘like a wound’).
A deep sense of nostalgia for the 18th century runs through the novel. There are several clear references to it.
The place
Maupassant didn’t chose some random place. The jardin du Luxembourg has been a popular place for walks since the 18th century. The author specifically chooses a part of the park that has disappeared, reinforcing the feeling of lost happiness and melancholy.
« (…) dans la pépinière du Luxembourg. Vous ne l’avez pas connue, vous autres, cette pépinière ? C’était comme un jardin oublié de l’autre siècle, un jardin joli comme un doux sourire de vieille. »
” (…) in the nursery of Luxembourg. Didn’t you know this nursery? It was like a forgotten garden from the other century, a garden as pretty as an old woman’s sweet smile”
Maupassant, Menuet, 1882.
acquired the Luxembourg Palace in 1612. Just opposite is the Carthusian monastery, with its nursery, which has been in operation since 1650. Parisian walkers particularly appreciate this large green space.
The park was remodelled several times, gradually reducing the size of the gardens. In 1865, Haussman deletes the nursery: New streets were laid out and the land subdivided.
The date 1865 is important for dating the events in Menuet. Indeed:
« Quand je revins à Paris, deux ans plus tard, on avait détruit la pépinière. »
‘When I returned to Paris, two years later, the nursery had been destroyed.’
Maupassant, Menuet, 1882.
Jean Bridelle therefore met the dancers between 1863 and 1865. Keep this date in mind for what follows.
The old man dancing minuet
The ols man is wearing clothes reminiscent of Ancien Regime. See:
« Il portait des souliers à boucles d’argent, une culotte à pont, une redingote tabac d’Espagne, une dentelle en guise de cravate et un invraisemblable chapeau gris à grands bords et à grands poils, qui faisait penser au déluge. Il était maigre, fort maigre, anguleux, grimaçant et souriant. Ses yeux vifs palpitaient, s’agitaient sous un mouvement continu des paupières ; et il avait toujours à la main une superbe canne à pommeau d’or qui devait être pour lui quelque souvenir magnifique. »
“He wore shoes with silver buckles, bridge breeches, a Spanish tobacco frock coat, lace for a tie and an improbable grey hat with a big brim and big hair, reminiscent of the Flood. He was thin, very thin, angular, scowling and smiling. His lively eyes fluttered and fluttered with the continuous movement of his eyelids, and he always carried in his hand a superb cane with a golden knob, which must have been some magnificent souvenir for him.”
Maupassant, Menuet, 1882.
From the buckeld shoes to the yellow frock coat, from the breeches to the tie, everything reminds us the gentlement from 18th century. See this engraving as example:
The minuet
« Et voilà qu’un matin, comme il se croyait bien seul, il se mit à faire des mouvements singuliers : quelques petits bonds d’abord, puis une révérence ; puis il battit, de sa jambe grêle, un entrechat encore alerte, puis il commença à pivoter galamment, sautillant, se trémoussant d’une façon drôle, souriant comme devant un public, faisant des grâces, arrondissant les bras, tortillant son pauvre corps de marionnette, adressant dans le vide de légers saluts attendrissants et ridicules. Il dansait !
(…)
« – Expliquez-moi donc, dis-je au vieux danseur, ce que c’était que le menuet ?
Il tressaillit.
– Le menuet, Monsieur, c’est la reine des danses, et la danse des Reines, entendez-vous ? Depuis qu’il n’y a plus de Rois, il n’y a plus de menuet. »
(…)
« Ils allaient et venaient avec des simagrées enfantines, se souriaient, se balançaient, s’inclinaient, sautillaient pareils à deux vieilles poupées qu’aurait fait danser une mécanique ancienne, un peu brisée, construite jadis par un ouvrier fort habile, suivant la manière de son temps. »
‘And then one morning, just as he thought he was alone, he began to make some strange movements: first a few little leaps, then a curtsy; then he beat a still alert entrechat with his spindly leg, then he began to pivot gallantly, hopping, shimmying in a funny way, smiling as if in front of an audience, doing some graces, rounding his arms, twisting his poor puppet’s body, waving lightly, touchingly and ridiculously, into the void. He was dancing!
(…)
Explain to me,’ I said to the old dancer, ’what was the minuet?
He shuddered.
– The minuet, sir, is the queen of dances, and the dance of queens, do you understand? Since there are no more kings, there is no more minuet.
(…)
‘They came and went with childish pretences, smiling at each other, swaying, bowing, hopping about like two old dolls made to dance by an old mechanism, a little broken, once built by a very skilful workman, according to the manner of his time.
Maupassant, Menuet, 1882.
Maupassant doesn’t give an exact depiction of a minuet. We can understand him: the minuet was forgotten for a long time.
Anyway, the writer tries to speak about this « sentiment de désenchantement dont nous sommes longtemps à nous débarrasser » (a feeling of disenchantment that we are long in the process of ridding of).
His aim is not to revive the previous century.
But I can give you a few things. All this in collaboration with Pierre Rameau, author of ‘Le maître à danser’, in 1725.
The minuet is a couple’s dance, very much in vogue in the 18th century. There is only one step to this ternary music, which unfolds over 6 beats. The dancers perform several figures, the most characteristic of which is the ‘Z’ (formerly the ‘S’).
Minuet step
Starting on the left leg, the right foot pointed backward.
Beat 1 : Bend the left leg and bring the right heel next to the left heel.
Beat 2 : Extend the right leg straight forward and switch bodyweight on the right leg.
[Beats 1 and 2 form a demi-coupé]
Beat 3 & 4 : Demi-coupé bending the right leg.
Beat 5 & 6 : Two walking steps on the point of the feet, right then left.
Remark : the minuet step always starts on the right foot. It can be danced forward, backward and on the sides.
Style & figures for minuet
As for all baroque dances, the dancer need to turn out their feet : heels close to one other and spread toes. The feet are forming a “V” shape at all time.
Be caraful if you try self-taught turnout:
Soyez prudent si vous tentez l’en-dehors en autodidacte : make sure that the movement starts from your hip. If you try to open only your feet, you risk damaging your tendons.
The most characteristic figure is the ‘Z’. It can be described as follows.
The dancers stand diagonally opposite and to the left of each other. Each dancer takes two minuet steps to the left, reversing the diagonal: your partner is now on your right. On the next two steps, the dancers move towards each other and pass each other facing each other. Then each dancer takes a step backwards towards their partner’s starting place and a step to the right to join that place.
It’s a little clearer with Rameau’s diagram:
The others figures are some reverences, hand-turns and a figure that looks like a snail.
Maupassant is right when he writes that “Since there are no more kings, there is no more minuet.”. THe minuet indeed disapeared in France after the Revolution of 1789.
The story of the minuet dancers
The most unusuel part of the story is the story of the couple. Incidentally Maupassant give it more details. See:
« Il avait été maître de danse à l’Opéra, du temps du roi Louis XV. Sa belle canne était un cadeau du comte de Clermont. Et, quand on lui parlait de danse, il ne s’arrêtait plus de bavarder.
Or, voilà qu’un jour il me confia :
– J’ai épousé la Castris, Monsieur. Je vous présenterai si vous voulez, mais elle ne vient ici que sur le tantôt. Ce jardin, voyez-vous, c’est notre plaisir et notre vie. C’est tout ce qui nous reste d’autrefois. Il nous semble que nous ne pourrions plus exister si nous ne l’avions point. Cela est vieux et distingué, n’est-ce pas ? Je crois y respirer un air qui n’a point changé depuis ma jeunesse. Ma femme et moi, nous y passons toutes nos après-midi. Mais, moi, j’y viens dès le matin, car je me lève de bonne heure.
Dès que j’eus fini de déjeuner, je retournai au Luxembourg, et bientôt j’aperçus mon ami qui donnait le bras avec cérémonie à une toute vieille femme vêtue de noir, et à qui je fus présenté. C’était la Castris, la grande danseuse aimée des princes, aimée du roi, aimée de tout ce siècle galant qui semble avoir laissé dans le monde une odeur d’amour. »
“He had been a dancing master at the Opera in the time of King Louis XV. His beautiful cane was a gift from the Count of Clermont. And when people talked to him about dancing, he couldn’t stop chattering.
Then one day he confided in me:
– I married the Castris, Sir. I’ll introduce you if you like, but she only comes here on Sundays. You see, this garden is our pleasure and our life. It’s all we have left of the old days. It seems to us that we could no longer exist if we didn’t have it. It’s old and distinguished, isn’t it? I think I breathe air that hasn’t changed since I was young. My wife and I spend every afternoon there. But I come in the morning, because I get up early.
As soon as I had finished lunch, I went back to the Luxembourg, and soon I saw my friend ceremoniously giving his arm to a very old woman dressed in black, to whom I was introduced. It was Castris, the great dancer loved by princes, loved by the king, loved by the whole gallant century, which seems to have left a scent of love in the world.”
Maupassant, Menuet, 1882.
Identifying the dancers
La Castris
Elise Castris, La Castris, is the old dancer’s wife, “loved by princes, loved by the king”.
Reading the story, that name ringed a bell. Yes, of course!
During a few year I took part in a workshop in the studios of Koninkelijke Balletschool Antwerpen (Antwerp Royal Ballet School). I remembered vividly that one studio was named after that famous 18th dancer: Castris.
So I began my research confidently.
No result.
Nothing, rien, nada, no mention of Elisa Castris anywhere outside Maupassant’s short story. Very frustrating, knowing that I am sure about the studio name.
I desperately checked the studio name: Vestris. And Vestris is a man! What a stupid mistake…
Unless… the studio next door is called Camargo?
A crazy theory materialised in my mind, but it could make sens.
Camargo + Vestris = Castris ?
Would Maupassant have shaped the name of his character based on two actual dancers?
Note that Maupassant could have created “Vemargo”, but you’ll understand why he choose “Castris”, softer on the ear.
Can this theory be verified?
Camargo
The line de Cupis de Carmargo is well-known in the fields of music and dance in the 18th century. This family from Brabant counts several composers, dance masters and musicians.
But in the field of dance, we have to speak about Marie-Anne.
Marie-Anne de Cupis de Camargo (1710-1770) revolutionised ballet and made headlines at the same time.
She made up for her lack of grace and beauty with great technical skill. An ‘elevation’ dancer, she excelled in jumps, battements and entrechats. Voltaire called her ‘the first [woman] who danced like a man’.
La Camargo also became famous for her short skirts. Well, ‘short’: they revealed her ankles, then her calves. Mainly to make her jumps easier.
In May 1728, she took the Count of Clermont as her lover. She even gave up the stage for him for seven years (1734-1741). Louis de Bourbon-Condé, comte-abbé de Clermont (1737-1771) was a libertine ecclesiastic.
This is of interest to us because the Comte de Clermont is mentioned in Menuet. Indeed, the old dancer’s beautiful cane is ‘a gift from the Comte de Clermont’
Vestris
Now, let’s speak about the second inspiration of the name Castris. Vestris is the name of two famous dancers: Gaëtan and Auguste.
The Vestris family comes from North Italy. In the 18th century they crossed the Alps and produced two generations of exceptional dancers.
The first is Gaëtan (Gaétano, 1729-1808). Nicknamed “the god of dance”, his outstanding talent allowed him to became Louis XVI’s dance master. However, his pretentious and haughty nature earned him several dismissals from the Académie de musique.
Despite this, he was ballet master at the Paris Opéra in the final years of Louis XV’s reign (1770-1775). And that is particularly interesting. The old dancer in the novel was ‘dance master at the Opera during the reign of King Louis XV’.
Gaëtan Vestris had a string of female conquests. It was a dancer, Mademoiselle Allard, who gave him his most famous son: Auguste Allard.
Gaëtan trained his natural son Auguste (1760-1842). This young prodigy toured the courts of Europe. Father and son were veritable super-stars, acclaimed wherever they performed. They shared the same talent and the same vain, capricious character.
Choreographer Gardel, lured by Auguste’s virtuosity, composed specially for him a danse in “Panurge dans l’île des lanternes”. This choreography will then be known as “Vestris’ gavotte”.
A story of dates
Do you remember, when I asked you to remember the date where the short story occured?
Yes, this was many lines ago: 1863-1865. We use this date now.
You’ve noticed that the dancers that inspired the character of Castris are dead for a long while in 1863. Marie-Anne de Camargo died in 1770; Gaëtan Vestris in 1808 and Auguste in 1842.
So my hypothesis may be incorrect. How could the hero meet those dancers in 1863?
The short story also mentions two historical figures. First, the dancer got his cane from count of Clermont (who died in 1771). Even is the cane was a birth gift, that would make the dancers 92 year in 1863.
Maupassant insists: the old dancer was a dance master at the Opera, during Louis XV’s reign. Louis XV died in 1774. Even if the dance master was 20 years old in 1774, he would be minimum 109 year old in 1863.
So, who are the old dancers?
Alors, qui sont les vieux danseurs ? Authentic survivors of a bygone era? Or ghosts? Maupassant’s taste for the fantastic is well known, but he himself does not say.
« Il se peut que mon imagination seule ait fait les frais de mon attendrissement. »
“It may be that my imagination alone has borne the brunt of my tenderness.”
Maupassant, Menuet, 1882.
Conclusion on Menuet
‘Menuet’ is a typical example of the fascination with the 18th century, which was omnipresent at the end of the 19th century. This craze was reflected in literature, music, fashion… and ballroom dancing!
From the mid-19th century onwards, a number of authors attempted to revive the minuet. In 1860, Eugène Coulon published the ‘Menuet de le cour’ (sic). His description was taken up by several others, but only vaguely resembles the Baroque minuet.
A Quadrille minuet with the same step was invented. Minuet was often used as a buzzword: minuet waltz, minuet polka, minuet quadrille… The minuet remains a very marginal dance, rarely danced, even by its authors’ own admission.
In the story, the Enlightenment is reflected in the chosen location, the Luxembourg nursery. The old dancer’s clothes are also typical of the period. Of course, the very subject of the story – the minuet – and the characters mentioned (Louis XV, the Count of Clermont) are also direct references.
Sources
https://danceinhistory.com/tag/marie-anne-camargo/
http://leschaussonsverts.eklablog.com/marie-anne-de-camargo-1710-1770-l-audace-du-talent-a1801036
http://leschaussonsverts.eklablog.com/gaetan-et-auguste-vestris-une-dynastie-de-legende-a2041362
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