The title of this post is not an exaggeration, although the Opera directors would have preferred a more subtle one or, ideally, complete silence on the subject. The majestic opera house used to be an exclusive lupanar and the Béraud’s painting above needs no further explanation. On the subject of ballerinas, there is the internationally popular Edgar Degas with his paintings of hard-working, hard-driven little dancers, and there is our say-it-as-it-is Jean Béraud (more of him here), who bluntly covered this sordid end of the story as opposed to the internationally popular Edgar Degas with his paintings of hard-working, hard-driven little dancers.
In our day, such enablement of sex commerce in a prestigious cultural institution would be unthinkable. Welcome to the 19th century for a taste of life without women’s rights and women’s education, where a career choice outside marriage was limited mainly to servitude or prostitution. In a world made by men for men, the Opera direction facilitated the meetings between wealthy patrons and the ballerinas by providing the former with access backstage where they could observe the dancers at a close range and, eventually, make a choice. The access was available for a substantial subscription fee.
In the 19th century, the ballet was more than the high-brow entertainment that makes today’s real men yawn. It was the height of erotic experience. In an age, when an accidental glimpse of a female ankle could send a man’s heart into overdrive, the spectacle of exposed legs and nude arms in a variety of alluring positions would beat the Stanley Cup in attendance. (Also, and this may be somewhat important, there were no sports matches to watch.) A man’s prestige mattered as well. To maintain a Paris Opera ballerina, or at least to be seen dining with one, meant that you were a success socially and economically.
Now back to Edgar Degas and his suffering little dancers. Since the profession was morally disreputable, the recruits came from a disadvantaged socioeconomic background. A pretty daughter with a dancing talent was a God-sent gift to a struggling family. It was on the frail shoulders of this 12- to 13-year-old that the future of the family rested – it was her duty to provide them with a better life. Dancing alone would not bring the riches, the riches would come from the admirers; the girls knew that from the very beginning.
For the dancer, the road to success inevitably comes through men. First, there is the ballet master with his close touch while straightening a waist, repositioning a leg, or stretching an arm. The girl surrenders to the inescapable in order not to compromise her professional ascent. Then come other men, who all, one way or another, hold her career in their hands: the librettist, who gives her a role – or not – in the next ballet, and the director who renews – or not – her contract. If she really wants to break out of the anonymity of the dance corps, she must quickly seduce a wealthy protector, who will pay for advanced dance classes.
To maintain a pretense of respectability, the direction allowed chaperones to be present at all times. These women, whether a mother, an aunt, or an older cousin, were the driving force behind each dancer and the unavoidable intermediaries between the girl and men. Other lessons were needed and provided: how to be desirable was taught with the same importance as the pas de danse. Théophile Gautier noted the results of this licentious education: “The young ballerina is at once corrupt as an old diplomat and as naïve as a good savage. At the age of thirteen, she could teach a courtesan.”
The “mothers” then negotiate their charges’ charm and they can be quite tyrannical. Is the interested party old and ugly? Too bad, he’s got money so the daughter better be nice to him. Prices are agreed upon and, if a long-term liaison is in the making, a contract is signed at the notary’s office. A skillful mother can get herself included in the monthly allowance.
Those, who are not urged by their mothers to give themselves to a man do so of their own will. Without the protection of a wealthy man and, if possible, a titled one, they have no access to professional recognition. It’s a man’s world and, in this profession, the masculine element holds the power. The only weapons in the ballerina’s arsenal are seduction and cunning.
UPDATE: Don’t miss What it was like to be a Ballerina (a short animation movie)
Related posts:
Jean Béraud: The Most Parisian of the Paris Painters
The Guide to Gay Paree 1869 – Part 6: Entertainment
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Very good Iva. But kind of depressing.
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I’m glad you liked it, Susan. Depressing, yes. But at least it makes us appreciate the advantages of today’s life. For some, the Victorian era means lace and velvet, white gloves and afternoon tea, but that’s only the surface.
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[…] Source: The Opera of Paris: We Also Procure Our Ballerinas to Wealthy Men | Victorian Paris […]
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Yes, they took lovers. Yes, those lovers provided for them, which happens to day as well. But they were not prostitutes, they were certainly not unwilling, and they certainly did not need the wealthy old men to survive. Its just like saying that actresses are prostituted out to producers.
The truth is back then people still had a better chance of becoming wealthy then they do now. We have so many crazy anti business regulations at this point the only wealthy people around are people whose families got wealthy back in the 1900’s during the industrial revolution. I would way rather live back then. Don’t get me wrong, Im extremely grateful for things like antibiotics and better textiles, but social “advancement” does nothing but make things harder for everyone. BTW, OUR SUICIDE RATE IS MORE THEN 20X higher then theirs was. Its 10X higher then it as in the 1970’s.So, people are most certainly NOT happier.
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Interesting point of view.
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