By Donovan Roebert
My chief aim in this article is to make available in a single document a number of pictorial data and some samplings of reviews that accompanied the appearance of the bayaderes in France, England and Germany during 1838 and 1839. I will not be re-telling the fascinating, detailed story of that tour, which can be found in at least four other accessible treatments, each dealing with those events from its own perspective. These articles are:
Joep Bor: Mamia, Ammani and other Bayaderes: Europe’s Portrayal of Indian Temple Dancers, in Music and Orientalism in the British Empire, 1780s to 1940s, Eds. Martin Clayton & Bennet Zon, Ashgate, 2007, pp. 39-70.
Kusum Pant Joshi: 1838: South Indian Dancers Tour Europe, in Hinduism Today, Jan-March, 2009.
Maddy’s Ramblings: Blog: Ammani Ammal’s Story, 2014.
Avanthi Meduri: Interweaving Dance Archives: Devadasis, Bayaderes and Nautch Girls of 1838, in Movements of Interweaving, Ed. G. Brandstetter, Routledge, 2018.
I urge the interested reader to look up these articles to gain a more complete knowledge of this singular tour of the bayaderes. The outline of the story, in brief, is this:
In June, 1838, a group of five dancers and three accompanists, including the nattuvanar, were brought to Europe by E.C. Tardivel. The troupe was attached to the Perumal Temple in Tiruvendipuram. They duly signed a contract to perform abroad for a period of 18 months, and sailed to France from the port at Pondicherry.
In France they were encountered with an admiration approaching, in some cases, to adoration, though there were a number of sardonic responses too. The most well-known eulogy of the dancers was written by Theophile Gautier, the French poet and belle-lettrist. The theatre reviews and newspapers were full of the exalted praises of the dancers, with due emphasis on their ‘authenticity’.
In October 1838, they crossed the channel to England, where they made 55 appearances at the Adelphi Theatre alone between October and December. The English public gave them a mixed response, and the impresario, Frederick Yates, claimed to have lost money on the venture. Many of the reviews in English newspapers were, however, highly enthusiastic and it was supposed that no one in the city would care to miss the spectacular performance. They also appeared on the stage in Brighton.
In 1839, they toured Germany, Austria, the Netherlands and Belgium, in none of which countries they met with much success. The reviews from these countries indicate that the bayaderes were too exotic for local tastes. None of the articles written about them record their return to India, and there is speculation that one of them, Ammani Ammal, died in London sometime after the completion of the tour.
The five dancers and three accompanists were named in many reviews, in some instances with varying spellings. Their ages, too, were stated in some articles, though these may not be correct. They were:
Tille Ammale (Tillammal), aged 30 or perhaps somewhat older. She was the matron-duenna or taikkizhavi, known to be rather sour and very protective of the dancers. One review mentions that she fiercely opposed any attempts at christianization of the girls.
Amany (Ammani), aged 18, the niece of Tille. She was adored by all who encountered her, both for her beauty and her grace in dancing. She was the dancer most often mentioned by the reviewers, and the one who was doted on by Gautier.
Saoundiroun (Sundaram), aged 14, daughter or niece of Tille.
Ramgoun (Rangam), aged 13, second daughter or niece of Tille.
Vedoun (Vedam), aged 6, granddaughter of Ramalingam Mudali, the nattuvanar. She is often described in the reviews as a sweet and mischievous little devil or imp.
The members of the melam were:
Ramalingam Modeley (Ramalingam Mudali), 40 years old, though he is described as having a white beard. The six-year-old Vedam was his granddaughter, so it is likely that Ramalingam was somewhat older than he was said to be. He was described as a man possessing a noble countenance and bearing.
Savaranim (Savaranam), aged 25 years, who played the flute or thooti.
Deveneyagorn (Devanayakam), aged 30 years, who played the percussion instrument or maddalam.
They performed a six-part repertoire, having the following titles and sequence:
- The Robing of Vishnu, danced by Sundaram and Rangam.
- The Salute to the Rajah, danced by Vedam.
- The Widow’s Lament, danced by Ammani.
- The Malapou or Dance of Delight, danced by Tille, Ammani, Sundaram and Rangam.
- The Dagger Dance or Hindoo Widow’s Excitement to Death, danced by Sundaram and Rangam.
- The Dance of the Carrier Doves, danced by Ammani, Rangam and Sundaram.
In some cases this repertoire was added to or subtracted from, as well as varied. In the case of Yates’s spectacle at the Adelphi Theatre, for instance, the bayaderes’ dances were embedded in a larger entertainment called A Race for Rarity, or The Bayaderes, which added such titillations as Attack on the Temple by the Native Troops and Prevention of the Suttee or Burning Sacrifice.
The dance movements of The Robing of Vishnu were partly described in The Spectator as follows:
‘ … one action resembles the effect of a choking sensation, the upper part of the spine curving, the head poking forward, and the eyelids and brows being drawn upwards.’
Nothing is said of the narrative tale represented by this item. The article goes on to describe some of the other dances:
‘The pas de deux concluded, the sweet little Veydoun performs an elaborate dance , termed “The Salute to the Rajah,” her brilliant eyes and teeth of dazzling whiteness seeming to light up her infantine countenance with pleasure. The tall graceful Amany then steps forward, with a melancholy aspect, and an air of languishment, and rolls her lustrous eyes, that seem suffused with sorrow as if they would literally dissolve with melting tenderness: her movements are more grave and slow, for she is performing “The Widow’s Lament;” and she chants audibly a measured strain of woe. The matron Tille, who all this while has not ceased waving the horse-tail fan before the image, now resigns that task to the infant Veydoun, and joins Amany and her daughter and niece, in “The Malapou, or The Delightful Dance;” a sort of Indian quadrille, in which the four performers keep their respective places, and the principle movement is bending the body from side to side, and making the arms meet in a graceful curve above the head. Meanwhile, the two cousins have performed “The Dagger Dance, or The Hindoo Widow’s Excitement to Death;” which is of a more theatrical character than any other, but without the vehement and startling action of ballet dancing …’
Some commentators are of the opinion that the The Malapou was a pure dance item, perhaps a Tillana, and it is speculated that elements of the Tanjore dance margam were incorporated in the repertoire performed in Europe. The Dance of the Carrier Doves, not mentioned in The Spectator because it had not been performed on that night, represents a lovelorn girl writing to her beloved while her sakhis form, with their muslin scarves, a palm-tree on which sits a dove that will carry the letter for the girl.
The French reviewers, on the whole, were more concerned with describing the delightful dancers, as can be seen in this extract from L’Entracte, Marseilles, 1838:
‘… the priestesses of the temple of Tindivina Pourum … five females, dark-gold in colour … after a ‘salaam’ greeting … rest immobile among the group in the salon, as though submitting themselves to our inspection … they balance themselves in the most voluptuous way in the world on adorable little feet, the colour of coffee, like five shrubs attached to the sun while their heads incline themselves beneath the same breeze … their arms entwined by bracelets of a bizarre shape and by blue tattoos … rings of gold hang from their ears, their nostrils, and their lips … they wear at their necks an ornament in the shape of a heart that signifies marriage … I will describe, in two opposing genres, Soundiroum and Amany … The physiognomy of Soundiroum is of a piquancy of which it is difficult to give any idea: her eyes of an inflamed black, swimming in a bluish enamel, sending out looks that could damn a saint. The art of glances has resided with her since her childhood; all the coquettes of Paris would want to take lessons from this petulant bayadere … she professes the language of the eyes with a dizzying success …
‘Amany’s physique is full of softness, tall and slender like a palm-tree, her smile is candid and dreamy … She is eighteen years old! Soundiroum is hardly fourteen …
‘The little Veydon, six years old, has the physique of a little devil. Ramgoun has some resemblance to Soundiroum, but without equalling her, in my opinion … Speaking of Tille, the grand priestess, the superior figure among these dancers … I am too enamoured of the truth to say that she is pretty … it is possible that she may once have been, but at her age, in India, youth and beauty are fled without leaving any traces …’
Writing in August 1838, the reviewer of L’Illustration is a little less appreciative as he tries to make sense of the dances:
‘The troupe of bayaderes currently giving performances in Paris is complete. It consists of five dancers and an orchestra of three musicians … Indian music may be infinitely agreeable to the indigenes but it strikes us as singularly monotonous and barbaric, and has probably not progressed since its first origins … What can we say of the dances of the bayaderes? … They entwine themselves with an extraordinary vitality and with strong movements of their arms and head … while their eyes have an expression whose powerful fascination may stir confusion in Hindu hearts, a type of pantomime that probably has a religious sense that escapes us … The monotonous music … is conjoined with the jingling of the ornaments which enlace the arms, legs, the heads and the bodies of the dancers … The Dance of the Doves is … the most original … Amany, the premier dancer of the troupe, tall and strong and of sensuous aspect, and having the majestic form of a priestess of the pagan goddesses, executes a pantomime full of voluptuousness, accompanied by lyrics which convey, no doubt, the desires that are devouring her … while the langorous and ardent looks of this dancer convey … emotions about which it is impossible to be mistaken, Ramgoun and Saoundiroun, her fellow dancers, execute at the same time, for a duration of about fifteen minutes, the rotating movement of which we have already spoken … while the soft muslin gauze which envelops them completely exposes their bodily forms to the spectators …’
The artists’ community throughout France was on the whole completely besotted by the dancers and the atmosphere generated by their repertoire. Theophile Gautier, in his essay Les Bayaderes, first placed in Caprices et Zigzags and later in L’Orient, wrote along the following lines:
‘Let us hasten to confirm that (the bayaderes) are charming, of an irreproachable authenticity, and that they perfectly conform to the idea that we have formed of them …
‘Amany is about eighteen years old; her skin resembles in colour a Florentine bronze, with nuances of olive and gold, very cool and soft … she has blue-black hair, fine and supple … her hands and feet are of a petiteness and distinction in the extreme … her ankles are slender … her flanks, her belly, her waist can compete for delicacy and elegance with the most perfect art left to us by antiquity …
‘The men are of a grand beauty, with sparkling black eyes and aquiline noses, little moustaches and, for all clothing, pantaloons held up by a band … their headdress is a length of striped cloth gracefully rolled about the head …
‘Ramalingam wears a white beard of a most picturesque effect against his dark body … a Homeric old man … he has three white stripes above his eyes, three others on his side and arms … it is he who intones the songs to which (the dancers) dance … he has two small cymbals, which he claps together for marking the rhythm …
‘… their dance has nothing in common with ours; it is rather a highly accentuated pantomime … a certain movement of the head … like that of a preening bird … which could not be more graceful, and whose execution remains incomprehensible to us … add to this certain incredible turns of the eyes … undulations of the hips and circlings of the arms of an extraordinary suppleness, and you have a very piquant and very original spectacle … a singular thing …
‘… after the dance the troupe retires, leaving behind them a soft perfume of amber and sandalwood. The gates are shut again, and from the temple of Pondicherry we fall again into Paris, into the Allee des Veuves.’
The sculptor, Louis Barre, cast a bronze statuette of Ammani dancing the Malapou:
Le Magasin Pittoresque published Barre’s drawing of the statue, together with the signatures of the five dancers and a quasi-educational review:
‘… One knows that the bayaderes receive an education more advanced than that of other women in their country … a rare thing among the people of the orient, these girls know how to read and write … they speak Tamil, the habitual language of the country they inhabit … but they also very correctly read and write Telinga, which is also called Telugu …
‘These five dancers … are true bayaderes. The daily newspapers have … already described their singular dance, their enigmatic gestures, and above all their strange glances, which no French word will know how to express …
‘Ramalingom, the chief of the orchestra, and his daughter, Veydon, are of the weaver caste, as is Tille, the oldest of the five bayaderes. The caste of the other three is not known to us. The two musicians are of the Agamoudiar caste …’
The critic for La France Litteraire, in an article titled Les Bayaderes au Theatre des Varieties, mused along the following lines:
‘The dancer’s costumes are very rich … a muslin shali is wrapped about the torso, allowing a section of the bare small of the back to be seen among its folds, while pantaloons of striped cloth supported by a tightly-fitted waistband … cover the legs down to the ankles. A cloth of silk embroidered with gold supports and restricts the breasts, that treasure of which the bayaderes are so jealous … their mat-black hair is flattened on their heads and covered by a silver cap held in place, at the front, by an ornamental band of the same material, and falls into two long tresses to the shoulders. Jewels depend from their ears, silver rings from their noses, bracelets are worn on the contours of their arms at different points … the precious stones scintillate in their waist-bands … finally, bells of gold, floating about their ankles, accompany the dance with their metallic rustling …’
He added that the bayaderes were essentially incomprehensible to the French because:
‘… their blood is not the same as our blood, and their passion in no way resembles ours. All the forms, attitudes, movements and expressions which they spread out before our eyes are completely foreign to our ideas of beauty … we ought to press them to return to their own land … we should persuade them to go and rediscover their flowers, their carpets, their perfumes, their sun, and all that sensual poetry that is necessary to their existence, and without which their charm lacks completion … Because it is only there, in the environment of all these objects made for them, that they will be allowed to love and to be loved – only there will they be able to be true bayaderes.’
La Presse, again in August of 1838, attempts to describe some parts of the repertoire, but confuses Vishnu with Shiva in the second item:
‘Have you seen the bayaderes? This is the question that has come to replace “How are you doing?” …
‘… their programme is:
THE GREETING OF THE PRINCE, by Veydoun
THE ROBING OF SHIVA, by Saoundiroun and Ramgoun
THE DANCE OF MELANCHOLY, by Amany
THE DOVES, by Amany, Ramgoun and Saoundiroun
THE MALAPOU, by Tille, Amany, Ramgoun and Saoundiroun
‘On the day of the debut there was among the public an attention full of anxiety as to whether they would be able to go and see a thing so strange, mysterious and charming, a thing so completely unknown in Europe, a thing so utterly new! …
‘The movements of the dancers, so rapid and keen, resembled much more the skipping of surprised gazelles than any human postures, the prodigious glances where the blacks and the whites of their eyes disappeared in turn, the savage singularity of their costumes … were more surprising than charming to the public.
‘But when the beautiful Amany danced the melancholy of her laments, the ancient beauty of her postures, the supple voluptuousness of her waist, the sorrowful langour of her gestures, the sad softness of her half-smile, raised great applause …
‘The Dance of the Doves was a prodigious success … one had difficulty conceiving how two dancers, pivoting around themselves with a frightful rapidity, were able to create a dove on a palm-tree by means of a large piece of white muslin … Soaundiroun and Ramgoun, when this feat had been accomplished, went gracefully to present it to the ladies occupying the front row boxes … The idea was a charming one: Amany danced the part of a girl writing a letter on a palm leaf to her beloved while her companions, Saoundiroun and Ramgoun, using their muslin scarves, created a dove which would carry the letter.
‘The Malapou, or “amazing dance” … had a vivacious and joyful movement, with the dancers sinking down onto their backs while raising their arms above their heads with an infinite suppleness …’
The reviewer at Les Lions du Jour, summed up the situation:
‘Five bayaderes with three accompanists embarked from Pondicherry for France. the bayaderes are: first, Amani, aged 18; second, Saoundiroun, aged 14; third, Rangoun, aged 13; fourth, Veydoun, aged 6; and fifth, Tille, aged 30. As for the accompanists, they are Ramalingam, Savaranim, and Deveneyagorn … accompanying on the flute, the cymbals, and the drum … those who have seen their dances say that it is a marvellous thing, enough to cause one to dream of the paradise of Mahomet. Theophile Gautier alone has been found worthy to sing of these dancers, and Eugene Delacroix worthy to paint these beautiful, sensuous girls … their black hair adorned with a golden cap, rings in their noses, their naked feet, their uncovered waists, the eyes that make one swoon, the provocative twisting of their bottoms, their jewels and diamonds and bracelets, which are set in motion by every movement …’
Though the arrival of the bayaderes in London in October 1838 caused a public agitation and excitement similar to that which had occurred in France, the English reviewers were perhaps a little more measured in their responses to the dancers.
The reviewer in The Spectator began:
‘The withdrawal of a curtain, veiling the sanctum sanctorum of a Brahminical temple, discloses the five bayaderes grouped around an image of Vishnu, which they are fanning with red and white coloured horsetails; the platform on which they stand glides forward, and the features of this strange sight then become more apparent …’
The article continues:
‘They are all dressed alike … the kirtle of silk fastened round the waist, falling on one side a little below the knee, and the corset … overlaid with plates of gold set with gems – the breasts being enclosed in pliant cup-shaped cases – are almost concealed by a voluminous scarf of white muslin passing over the left shoulder, and crossed under the right arm so as to pass round the body; the long and ample ends almost enfolding the lower limbs: in addition they wear loose trousers of red-striped silk, and a little red bodice; so that only a small part of the left side remains uncovered; the throat and arms are of course exposed, and the feet are bare, and the outline of the form is visible beneath the drapery; but there is nothing in their appearance to alarm the most sensitive modesty …’
Then comes a description of the dance performance:
‘They scarcely stir from the place they occupy, and their principal bodily movements consist of turning round and crouching down, and in this position throwing out first one leg and then the other, resting on the heel: they use the heel as much as the toes. The prevailing movement of the arms is horizontal, crossing the face, and seeming to touch the nose; the long slender arms, and tapering fingers pointed with sharp nails, darting to and fro with angular action. There is very little … of flowing and serpentine movement of the limbs: nearly all is abrupt and rectilinear, but continuous. The inflections of the body are graceful, but its twinings are not developed by corresponding movements of the limbs …’
The review concludes:
‘… this Hindoo dancing … is the pantomime of emotion – exhibiting the flow of soul, not of the animal spirits. Regarded as one style of the poetry of motion, it is … what we suppose the Greek music to have been in comparison with modern times – rude and limited, but withal expressive.’
The article in The Mirror advises the public:
‘On Monday, October 1, 1838, they were presented to the British public … and were received, as they deserved to be, with the greatest applause. There are five females and three males in this company, forming a complete Indian ballet …’
And continues:
‘The females’ … long raven hair is plaited from the top of the head and hangs down over the shoulders … a cap composed of brilliant and polished metal is placed on the top of the head, and they have an ornament in the form of a heart round their necks. They wear two pairs of costly earrings and their noses are also decorated in like manner. Their teeth are of exquisite whiteness, very even, and contrast admirably with their dark skin. They wear a string of bells just above their ankles, the sound of which mingles with the steps of their dance …
‘The whole is a very curious and characteristic exhibition of the Indian national manners, and is certainly very different from anything we are accustomed to see on the stage …’
The bayaderes‘ appearances in Germany and Austria were not received with any great enthusiasm. The German reviews from the period are inclined to provide (rather flawed) information about the devadasi system, and then to move on to a brief review of the actual performance.
Here is an example of one such review from the Allgemeine Theaterzeitung of 20 June 1839:
‘The bayaderes belong to two large classes, of which each has several sub-categories. To the first class belong those in service to the temples and the gods, to the second those who travel freely about the country dancing. The first class, called devadasis or servants of the god, are distinguished according to family rank, of the worthiness of the deity whom they serve, and of the dignity and riches of the temple to which they belong … When they are sufficiently trained, they must attend the festivals and processions, serve and praise the deities’ victories and dance before them. Furthermore, they are to weave the floral garlands with which the gods are festooned, to bind the flower arrangements which are used for offerings and decoration of the altars, they must clean the temple and the priests’ cells in the inner temple court, and perform all wifely duties for them, and clean the wool from which the deities’ garments are woven …’
Having discussed the devadasis, the article concludes rather dismally:
‘… but, whether that which in India is regarded as natural, meaningful and characteristic, now torn out of its own environment, will bring happiness to our theatres I rightly doubt. The dance of the bayaderes will definitely not grant artistic satisfaction, but will in any case afford delight to those who, free from prejudice, love to observe the ways of foreign peoples.’
Five more pictures of the bayaderes in a variety of their performance postures occur on a poster advertising their appearance at the Theatre Francais in Rotterdam, in March of 1839. The first of these shows The Dance of the Daggers:
The second represents The Robing of Vishnu:
The third and fourth show a solo dancer in The Dance of the Dove and The Salute of the Raja:
The fifth is a representation of The Malapou:
These illustrations were produced by E. Dorrington, about whose life and work I have not been able to find any further information. The poster itself is dated 20 March, 1839, and describes the dancers and musicians in terms, mainly, of their authenticity as Indian performers, telling readers that ‘all of these sacred dances are exactly those which have been performed in India for the last three- or four-thousand years, and which have given birth to the perfected dances of our own day. In order to imbue these dancers with full originality, exactitude and character, they are accompanied by their own musicians, all Indians like themselves’.
It is not clear to me what became of these dancers and their melam after their 18-month contract with Tardivel had expired. There seem to have been rumours that Ammani committed suicide by hanging herself in London. If this was the case, it would mean that she must have returned to England after the failed performances in Germany and Austria.
Whatever the real facts may have been, we do find her death mentioned in an article written for Le Pays by the critic Paul de Saint-Victor in 1849, in which he remembers with whimsical sadness:
‘… that poor Amany, whose light was suddenly snuffed out in the fogs of London like a blazing lamp carried into a cave. I saw, suspended among the waistcoat-trinkets of a certain English gentleman, a bell that had trembled on her sonorous nostrils, marking the rhythm of the sacred dances. The Englishman was proud of this sacred relic for which he had paid five guineas. I hear again the chiming of that soft Buddhist bell, so completely out of place on that protesting waistcoat. All the religious and voluptuous clamour of India came alive for me in that feeble echo. Alas! That bell was then ringing the funeral knell of that young priestess who died so far away from her own gods and her own sky.’
In a more concretely recorded aftermath, 12 years after he had attended one of the performances in Frankfurt (in 1839), the philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer still recalled the event, and especially his meeting with E.C. Tardivel:
‘For to know how jealous of, and angry with, Brahmanism is the Anglican Church, which is always so nervous on account of its livings and benefices, we ought to be familiar, for example, with the loud yelping that was raised some years ago in Parliament by the bishops, and was carried on for many months. Since the East India authorities, as always on such occasions, showed themselves exceedingly stubborn, the bishops began their barking again and again merely because the English authorities, as was reasonable in India, showed some external marks of respect for the ancient and venerable religion of the country. For example, when the procession with the images of the gods passed by, the guard and its officer turned out and saluted with drums. Then there was the furnishing of a red cloth to cover the Car of Juggernaut, and so on. This was discontinued, as also were the pilgrim-dues raised in this connection; and such steps were really taken to please those gentlemen. Meanwhile, we have the incessant fulminations of those self-styled right- reverend holders of livings and wearers of full-bottomed wigs at such things; the really medieval way in which they express themselves on the original religion of our race, but which today should be called crude and vulgar; likewise the grave offence given to them, when in 1845 Lord Ellenborough brought back to Bengal in a triumphal procession and handed over to the Brahmans the gate of the pagoda of Sumenaut which had been destroyed in 1022 by that execrable Mahmud of Ghaznavi. I say that all this leads one to surmise that to them it was not unknown how much the majority of Europeans living many years in India were at heart in favour of Brahmanism, and how they simply shrugged their shoulders at both the religious and social prejudices of Europe. ‘All this falls off like scales, whenever one has lived only two years in India’, such a man once said to me. Even a Frenchman, that very courteous and cultured gentleman (E.C. Tardivel), who some ten years ago in Europe accompanied the Devadassis (popularly called ‘Bayadères’), at once exclaimed with fiery enthusiasm, when I came to speak to him about the religion of the country: ‘Monsieur, c’est la vraie religion!’ (‘Sir, it is the true religion!’).
Notes on sources for the article extracts:
- The original French articles and essays, from which I have translated extracts here, are found in the archives of the Bibliotheque nationale de France. These include Gautier’s essay on Les Bayaderes, first published in Caprices et Zigzags, and later in L’Orient.
- The Spectator, vol. 11, June-December 1838, from which I have drawn extracts on the bayaderes, can be read in the archives of the Hathi Trust.
- The article from The Mirror is in a private collection, though archives for this publication are also available.
- Readings in German reviews of the the bayadere performances are available at Google Books.
- Schopenhauer’s reference to E.C. Tardivel is found in ‘Parerga and Paralipomena’, vol 2, 1851.
End.
Aspects of Pictorial Indian Dance History 