Saturday 7 May 2011

Insinuation

Mr. James Harvey D'egville is the eldest son of Mr. PeTer D'egville. The family root is French, but this branch of it pullulated first in England. He owes his education, which, if at all philosophical, was peripatetic, that is, relating to the foot, principally to his father and Mr. Dauberval of Paris. He married Miss Berry of the Opera-House. In 1796 he was engaged at Drury-Lane theatre, when he got up a pantomima called Alexander the Great, and he did the same favour to the pantomimicry of Pizarro, Caractacus, &c. He is now ballet-master at the Opera-House, where he gives considerable satisfaction, although he is with some taste and invention, far from abounding in knowledge and judgment. We must remember, however, that his business is almost exclusively with the legs, to "teach lavoltat high and swift corantos," and it is not a question that he has produced several very good ballet-dancers. But as we like the treason, though we hate the traitor; so we delight in the dancing of his pupils, while we detest the original cause of it—the avarice and depravity of the parents. See some just remarks on this subject, signed H. R. in the Examiner, Feb. 26. "In addition to these shadows, Mr. D'Egville has," says this writer, " a numerous troop of infants, that are brought forward in the ballet, for no purpose that I can imagine, unless it is to shew that children can be kept awake till twelve or one o'clock, and that rouge will artificially supply the colour, of which want of rest has deprived them."
It is said that he was, when in Paris, a furious democrat, but if we have little to do with the learning of a ballet-master, we have certainly still less to do with his politics. On this, however, and many other points, we might have afforded the reader more lights, had Mr. D'Egville, as he promised, furnished as with his lanthorn. We are now indeed more than half persuaded that he meditated a sort of suicide— he would have deprived himself of this Life, which our philanthropy has preserved.

The Monthly Mirror, March 1809.

1 comment:

  1. Wow! James doesn't sound like a very nice character!

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