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By Paul Parish
Copyright 2006 by Paul Parish

The following account of a performance by Pavlova's company comes from a letter home that was written by a girl at UC Berkeley in 1921. Agnes Edwards worked her way through college, and wrote to her mother every week, letters which have been collected and published by her daughter, who has given permission to publish the extract. The entire volume is worth reading, since both women were intelligent and the young woman had spunk and tenacity and plenty of curiosity.

…Thurs. night we went to see Pavlova, so I got to carry my new bag right away. Thirteen of us went over — Mrs. B. went too. In spite of the number we didn't have a bit of bad luck, & the dancing was so wonderful. Our seats were way up in the gallery, but we could see very well. Had about a half dozen pairs of opera glasses, & Geraldine took a pair of field glasses. Between acts we had a lot of fun looking at the people. Downstairs & in the boxes the society folk were on display, with all sorts of evening gowns & evening cloaks & jewels. When we went outside afterward we got into the jam of people waiting for their chauffeurs to drive up, & we could hardly get out. A woman right in back of me had a string of diamonds reaching to her waist — I really never saw such clothes & things before. We all enjoyed the dancing so much.

The first part was a long ballet called "The Awakening of Flora". It was a Grecian affair, brought in all the Gods & Godesses, nymphs, fauns, etc. The fauns were the cutest things, dressed in red with black tails, & with the little pipes that they were supposed to blow. Pavlova was Flora, & did quite a bit of dancing alone. The last two "acts" were made up of a series of short dances by 9 different people, dances of different nations, etc.... It was wonderful, & just what I've always wanted to see — they do the most difficult steps in the world, & gracefully too.

Pavlova did her famous swan dance. You know the old superstition was that a swan could sing only when it was dying. A famous composer (Tchaikovsky) [sic] wrote some music which is supposed to be like the swan's dying song & she danced to that — dying supposedly, at the end. It was marvelous, & we all held our breath, it seemed. She was encored again & again. The last number was a Syrian dance in which various things were offered her by slaves, & she chose a mirror. The costumes in it were the most striking of all — very vivid colors, of course.

Now that is over I can hardly realize I have really seen the greatest dancer in the world. My, I do hope that you can see her sometime.... We got the 12 o'clock boat home. I was so sleepy & tired I almost resolved never to go out again. The girls had just got home from Senior Assembly when we got there & they said they'd had the best time yet. I am sorry I missed it, but Pavlova was worth 20 assemblies.

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Published by gracious permission of Grace Partin Moremen, editor, and extracted from "Letters from College, 1917-1921: Perspectives of a Woman Student at U. C. Berkeley during and after World War I." Agnes Edwards Partin, Edited by Grace Partin Moremen.
Lewiston, N. Y, 2006: The Edwin Mellen Press. Illustrated, pp392

Photos, from top:
Stephen Petronio Dance Company. Photo by Sarah Silver for Kate Ryan Inc.
Compagnie Franck II Louise.
Coleman Lemieux Compagnie.

Volume 4, No. 36
October 9, 2006
copyright ©2006 Paul Parish
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