On 31st March 1875, Sergei Diaghilev was born into a wealthy Russian family. I salute the man who did so much to haul ballet into the 20th century.

My historical novel, Dance of the Earth, spanning 1875 – 1921, is largely set in London. During this tumultuous era, ballet transitioned from music hall stages – ballerinas partnered by females costumed in breeches – to the sophistication of the Ballets Russes performing at the hallowed Opera House.

Sergei Diaghilev in 1910

The Russian Ballet made their London debut in 1911 with the capital’s first full evenings of ballet. The Russians significantly upped the ante: music that was symphonic; costume, design and lighting that dazzled (imagine Scheherazade!), and of course the overall standard of dancing. Delicate Anna Pavlova and lovely Tamara Karsavina among the women principals, muscly Vaslav Nijinsky and Adolf Bolm, male soloists. These men could dance! The Ballet Russes must have seemed like an exotic circus rolling into town – the vanguard of art, taste, and fashion.

Behind the Ballets Russes was that colossus, Sergei Diaghilev. With that large head of his, that badger hair, top hat and monocle, he looks a man of substance. In 1895, then in his early 20s living in Russia, he wrote this about himself in a letter:

‘I am, firstly, a charlatan, though rather a brilliant one; secondly, a great charmer; thirdly, frightened of nobody; fourthly, a man with plenty of logic and very few scruples; fifthly, I seem to have no real talent. None the less, I believe I have found my true vocation – to be a Maescenas. I have everything necessary except money – but that will come!’

Even then Diaghilev knew his skills were those of an impresario, a fixer, someone who could make things happen.

Wanting to show the best of Russian visual art to the West, in 1906 he organised a carefully curated exhibition in Paris. Music and opera followed the following summers. In 1909 he brought his ballet enterprise to Paris. It would be two more years before London received the company for what became an annual summer treat until the first World War scuppered plans.

Initially, Diaghilev drew on the choreographic skills of dancer Michel Fokine who sought to move away from strict classical Russian ballet training. He was, critics agree, influenced by early modern dance exponent, Isadora Duncan. Freer movement was in the air. Get rid of those corsets! Diaghilev enticed the best Russian Imperial Theatre dancers to join him during their summer break. He called on the huge talents of old friends Alexandre Benois and Leon Bakst for the visual look of productions (scenery and costume). Nothing was left to chance. Throughout the years there are stories of Diaghilev staying up through the night after a dress rehearsal ensuring stage lighting was exactly as he envisaged. The entire aesthetic experience mattered.

A Ballets Russes costume design by Leon Bakst for a Bacchante in the Narcisse (1911).

‘Astound me’ Diaghilev might demand of a collaborator. He was an early champion of Igor Stravinsky and Stravinsky astounded not only his patron but musicians and audience. It was some years before the score of The Rite of Spring was recorded, as it was beyond tricky for professional musicians of 100 plus years ago.

The title of my novel, Dance of the Earth, is from a section of The Rite of Spring. The premiere of this ballet features in the middle of my story, a significant date for fictional characters Nina and Walter. This ballet acts as a fulcrum balancing what comes before and after.

Diaghilev was a man of passion. When he cultivated star dancer Nijinsky as a choreographer, Fokine was out in the cold. It was Nijinsky who choreographed The Rite of Spring in 1913, with bodies pulled down by gravity, feet in-turned. And he worked with Bakst on another experimental ballet The Afternoon of a Faun. When Diaghilev heard of Nijinsky’s marriage that was a nail in his star dancer’s coffin and Diaghilev developed the choreographic talents of young Leonard Massine.

My story ends in 1921 when Diaghilev produced the first full-length ballet in London, the Sleeping Princess (or Sleeping Beauty as we know it). Up till then Diaghilev had educated his audiences to expect short experimental ballets making up a programme. A full-length classical ballet – no matter how lavish, and no matter how starry – proved too much for audiences at that time and the run was cut short proving very costly. Consider nowadays. This past Christmas season there were several Nutcrackers vying for our attention in London alone. These days, Marius Petipa’s classic ballets to Tchaikovsky’s scores are box-office gold. Back then they seemed old-fashioned.

Hugely simplified, here are Ballets Russes trends for the period I write about when Diaghilev was alive to steer the boat:

• early ballets, sometimes exotic and risqué, and wholly Russian – dancers, composers and scenographers alike;
• middle ballets, increasingly experimental, with the enterprise becoming less Russian as Diaghilev recruited dancers and artistic collaborators from other European countries;
• Massine’s ballets were characterful and fun with the company more global than ever, with English dancers given Russian names, so Hilda Munnings became Lydia Sokolova.

If I could time travel, I would set the date to 29 May 1913, location Theatre des Champs-Elysées, Paris. There I would witness The Rite of Spring premiere. With all that heckling, the conductor battling on, and dancers trying to hear their counts while pounding the stage sweltering in woollen outfits. Would I bat an eye? Doubt it. We are familiar with Stravinsky’s score – a staple of orchestras world-wide – and Nijinsky’s contorted movements sit easily in today’s choreographic spectrum. Then it was different.

It’s my pleasure to share a little ballet history and I hope you may read Dance of the Earth.

Anna M Holmes has a lifelong involvement with dance as a practitioner, teacher, and arts administrator. Visit www.annamholmes.com to find out more about Dance of the Earth.