Ballet History Series: Anna Pavlova's "Snowflakes"
A history of Anna Pavlova's "Nutcracker" ballet
As of now, I am launching a new series here on my Substack that I am calling Ballet History Series. In this series, I will publish, post and share essays and articles about ballet history, offering some extra historical information that will not be published on my website for The Marius Petipa Society. The Marius Petipa Society is packed with information, but squeezing too much information onto one platform can be too much for both the reader and the writer. Therefore, I have decided to space everything out with a new Substack series and here is the first entry.
Snowflakes, a short ballet by Anna Pavlova
Snowflakes was a short ballet based on the snow forest scene from Tchaikovsky’s The Nutcracker created by Anna Pavlova during her season at the Palace Theatre in London in the summer of 1911. Pavlova had performed in The Nutcracker at the Imperial Theatre in Saint Petersburg and she had watched Olga Preobrazhenskaya and Matilda Kschessinskaya dance the Sugar Plum Fairy on numerous occasions, and now, she wanted to create her own Nutcracker ballet using selected numbers from Tchaikovsky’s score. Snowflakes was initially created as a children’s ballet as Pavlova wanted to follow the tradition at the Imperial Theatre of casting children, and she scouted around the London dancing classes for her little dancing snowflakes. The role danced by Pavlova was a Snow Queen and I believe she was partnered by Laurent Novikov as a Snow King; the choreographer was her Ballet Master Ivan Clustine.
Snowflakes premièred on the 7th August 1911 at the Palace Theatre and was well-received; the use of children proved especially popular. The critic of The Era wrote of Snowflakes:
“There is no thought of the cold white shroud about the production, with its tripping diminutive fairies, who emulate the lightness of the glistening flakes and dance with joyous in a glowing winter-scape of blue and white. There are concerted numbers, and they dance in trios, and more than one little maiden shows excellent promise. There is a small soloist too, who has already wonderful technique, with a career before her. Pavlova, alternately dashing and languorous, trips in her own inimitable fashion, and the little ballet, which is just long enough.”[1]
Snowflakes became a popular member of Pavlova’s repertoire and was performed many times across Europe and the United States. The children were subsequently replaced by adults as the snowflakes and Novikov would be succeeded by Alexander Volinine as the Snow King.
Programmes of Pavlova’s tours to the United States list the libretto of the ballet’s dance numbers (see image below):
1. Waltz of the Snowflakes
2. Pas de deux
3. Pas de cinq
4. Variations
5. Pas de trois
6. Coda
A more detailed account of Snowflakes was written by one of Pavlova’s dancers, Harcourt Algeranoff, who joined her company in 1921, in his book My Years with Pavlova:
“As I got into my white velvet tunic with its jagged sleeves trimmed with silver icicles and swansdown snow, I was inclined to revert to the opinion I held when I was eight, when Pavlova first danced it in London – I thought that “Snowflakes” was ‘soppy’; but when I came on to the stage and saw the entire scheme I realised my mistake. Surrounded by the heavy snow-laden pine trees, the girls in their glistening white ballet skirts, with silver and swansdown kokshniks on their heads (I was proud of knowing this word) I no longer needed to be convinced that the men’s costumes would have looked ridiculous had they been in any way different. The crisp staccato notes of the ‘Casse-Noisette’ overture filtered through the curtain. As it rose and the dancing began, I felt that I would never forget this moment. How many hundreds of times since then have I stood in my white costume and took part in the same scene. But every time was a delight, and I still remember every moment.
… Griffiths enters with a series of déboulés, and is joined by Warzinski and Zalewski, then the men enter, forming a circle which diminishes as it revolves, and continue with caprioles, failles, pas de bourée, while the girls, forming an outer circle, perform coupés ballonnés en tournant, advance with petits jetés, then weaving out of the circle into two columns, and back again into circles each moving in opposite directions, until the dance ends in two diagonals of groups. The first valse over, there was a second’s silence, as on Christmas Eve, when the country is hushed by snow and the moon is full. The arpeggio began, and Pavlova and Volinine seemed to shimmer into being, when they made their first appearance in this ballet. Such beauty of line, poise and balance, such nobility – I realised the meaning of the term ‘Imperial Artist’. It had been a breath-taking experience to behold from the auditorium, but the memory of seeing it for the first time on the stage will always be a dream of magic. After the adage came the pas de trois, then Volinine’s variation full of marvellous batterie and pirouettes. Pavlova’s variation followed – were ever delicate-looking feet and ankles so strong? She danced with every fibre of her being, and seemed to take particular delight in the marked rhythm of that variation, which demanded and certainly received a great precision of interpretation. The pas de cinq followed, and then the coda with Pavlova and Volinine, and the entire Company dancing in a positive snowstorm that brought the ballet to triumphal close.”[2]
Algeranoff’s description of some of the dances helps to give a partial vision of what was staged. However, the identities of each of the music numbers that Pavlova used, except for Waltz of the Snowflakes, remains unclear. I can only guess that Pavlova and Volinine’s respective variations were those of the Sugar Plum Fairy and Prince Coqueluche and the Pas de trois and pas de cinq were probably two numbers from the Act 2 Divertissements. It has been reported that Pavlova utilised the music for the Journey through the Pine Forest for her Snow pas de deux, giving way to a modern tradition. However, it is possible that she actually used the adagio of the Act 2 Grand Pas de deux, which would have been more logical than using a piece of music that was not composed as a dance. Algeranoff mentioning an arpeggio is a clue since the adage for the pas de deux opens with an arpeggio and Pavlova was known for being very strict about what music was suitable to dance to.
References
[1] Quoted in Anna Pavlova: Her Life and Art (1982) by Keith Money, p. 138
[2] My Years with Pavlova (1957) by Harcourt Algeranoff, p.14-15
Sources
Keith Money (1982) Anna Pavlova: Her Life and Art. New York, USA: Alfred A. Knope Publishers
Harcourt Algeranoff (1957) My Years with Pavlova. Kingswood, Surrey, UK: The Windmill Press