It is impossible， is it not， to believe in a Providence or Guiding Destiny when one takes up the morning newspaper and reads of twenty people dead in a railway accident， who had not thought of death the day before；or of a whole town devastated with tidal wave or food。 Then why be so absurdly egotistical as to imagine a Providence guiding our small selves？
Yet there are things in my life so extraordinary as to make me believe at times in predestination。 For instance， that train to St。Petersburg， instead of arriving at four in the afternoon， as scheduled， was stopped by snowdrifts and arrived at four the next morning， twelve hours late。There was no one at the station to meet me。When I descended from the train the temperature was ten degrees below zero。I had never felt such cold。The padded Russian coachmen were hitting their arms with their gloved fists to keep the blood fowing in their veins。
I left my maid with the baggage， and， taking a one？horse cab， directed the driver to the Hotel Europa。Here I was， in the black dawn of Russia， quite alone， on the way to the hotel， when suddenly I beheld a sight equal in ghastliness to any in the imagination of Edgar Allan Poe。
It was a long procession that I saw from a distance。 Black and mournful it came。There were men laden andbent under their loads—coffins—one after another。The coachman slowed his horse to a walk， and bent and crossed himself。I looked on in the indistinct dawn， filled with horror。I asked him what this was。Although I knew no Russian， he managed to convey to me that these were the workmen shot down before the Winter Palace the day before—the fatal January 5，1905—because， unarmed， they had come to ask the Tsar for help in their distress—for bread for their wives and children。I told the coachman to stop。The tears ran down my face and were frozen on my cheeks as this sad， endless procession passed me。But why buried at dawn？Because later in the day it might have caused more revolution。The sight of it was not for the city in the daytime。The tears choked in my throat。With boundless indignation I watched these poor grief？stricken workmen carrying their martyred dead。If the train had not been twelve hours late， I would never have seen this。
O dark and mournful night without one sign of Dawn。
O sad procession of poor stumbling forms，
Haunted， weeping eyes and poor hard worked rugged hands
Stifing with their poor black shawls
The sobs and moans beside their dead—
Guards walking stilted on either side。
If I had never seen it， all my life would have been diferent。 There， before this seemingly endless procession， this tragedy， I vowed myself and my forces to the serviceof the people and the down？trodden。Ah， how small and useless now seemed all my personal love desires and sufferings！How useless evenmy Art， unless it could help this。Finally the last sad ones passed us。The coachman turned wonderingly and watched my tears。Again he crossed himself with a patient sigh， and spurred his horse toward the hotel。
I mounted to my palatial rooms and slipped into the quiet bed， where I cried myself to sleep。 But the pity， the despairing rage of that dawn was to bear fruit in my life hereafter。
The room of the Hotel Europa was immense and high？ceilinged。The windows were sealed and never opened。The air came through ventilators high in the wall。I awoke late。My manager called， bringing flowers。Soon my room was filled with fowers。
Two nights later I appeared before the elite of St。 Peters？burg society in the Saal des Nobles。How strange it must have been to those dilettantes of the gorgeous ballet， with its lavish decorations and scenery， to watch a young girl， clothed in a tunic of cobweb， appear and dance before a simple blue curtain to the music of Chopin；dance her soul as she understood the soul of Chopin！Yet even for the first dance there was a storm of applause。My soul that yearned and sufered the tragic notes of the Preludes；my soul that aspired and revolted to the thunder of the Polonaises；my soul that wept with righteous anger， thinking of the martyrs of that funeral procession of the dawn；this soul awakenedin that wealthy， spoilt， and aristocratic audience a response of stirring applause。How curious！
The next day I received a visit from a most charming little lady， wrapped in sables， with diamonds hanging from her ears， and her neck encircled with pearls。 To my astonishment she announced that she was the great dancer Kschinsky。She had come to greet me in the name of the Russian Ballet and invite me to a gala performance at the opera that night。I had been used to receiving only coldness and enmity from the ballet in Bayreuth。They had even gone so far as to strew tacks on my carpet so that my feet were torn。This change of sentiment was both gratifying and astounding to me。
That evening a magnifcent carriage， warmed and flled with expensive furs， conducted me to the opera， where I found a first？tier box， containing flowers， bonbons， and three beautiful specimens of the jeunesse doree of St。Petersburg。I was still wearing my little white tunic and sandals， and must have looked very odd in the midst of this gathering of all the wealth and aristocracy of St。Petersburg。
I am an enemy to the ballet， which I consider a false and preposterous art—in fact， outside the pale of all art。 But it was impossible not to applaud the fairy？like figure of Kschinsky as she fitted across the stage， more like a lovely bird or butterfy than a human being。
In the entr'acte I looked about me， and saw the most beautiful women in the world， in marvellous decollete gowns， covered with jewels， escorted by men indistinguished uniforms；all this display of luxurious riches so difficult to understand in contrast with the funeral procession of the previous dawn。 All these smiling and fortunate people， what kinship had they with the others？
After the performance I was invited to supper in the palace of Kschinsky， and there met the Grand Duke Michael， who listened with some astonishment as I discoursed on the plan of a school of dancing for the children of the people。 I must have seemed an utterly incomprehensible figure， but they all received me with the kindest cordiality and lavish hospitality。
Some days later I received a visit from the lovely Pavlowa；and again I was presented with a box to see her in the ravishing Ballet of Gisele。 Although the movement of these dances was against every artistic and human feeling， again I could not resist warmly applauding the exquisite apparition of Pavlowa as she floated over the stage that evening。
At supper in the house of Pavlowa， which was more modest than Kschinsky's palace， but equally beautiful， I sat between the painters Bakst and Benoist， and met， for the frst time， Serge Diaghlief， with whom I engaged in ardent discussion on the art of the dance as I conceived it， as against the ballet。
That evening， at supper， the painter Bakst made a little sketch of me which now appears in his book， showing my most serious countenance， with curls sentimentally hanging down on one side。 It is curious that Bakst， who had someclairvoyant powers， read my hand that night。He found there two crosses。“You will have great glory，”he said，“but you will lose the two creatures whom you love most on earth。”At that time this prophecy was a riddle to me。”
After supper the indefatigable Pavlowa danced again， to the delight of her friends。 Although it was fve o'clock in the morning before we left， she invited me to come at half？past eight the same morning， if I would like to see her work。I arrived three hours later（I confess I was considerably fatigued）to find her standing in her tulle dress practising at the bar， going through the most rigorous gymnastics， while an old gentleman with a violin marked the time， and admonished her to greater eforts。This was the famous master Petitpas。
For three hours I sat tense with bewilderment， watching the amazing feats of Pavlowa。 She seemed to be made of steel and elastic。Her beautiful face took on the stern lines of a martyr。She never stopped for one moment。The whole tendency of this training seems to be to separate the gymnastic movements of the body completely from the mind。The mind， on the contrary， can only suffer in aloofness from this rigorous muscular discipline。This is just the opposite from all the theories on which I founded my school， by which the body becomes transparent and is a medium for the mind and spirit。
As twelve o'clock approached， there were preparations for luncheon， but， at the table， Pavlowa sat white and pale， and hardly touched food or wine。 I admit I was hungry， and ate many podjarsky cutlets。Pavlowa took me back to my hotel， and then went to one of those interminable rehearsals at the Royal Theatre。I， very weary， fell upon my bed and slept soundly， praising my stars that no unkind fate had ever given me the career of a ballet dancer！
The following day I also arose at the unheard？of hour of eight o’clock to visit the Imperial Ballet School， where I saw all the little pupils standing in rows， and going through those torturing exercises。They stood on the tips of their toes for hours， like so many victims of a cruel and unnecessary Inquisition。The great， bare dancing？rooms， devoid of any beauty or inspiration， with a large picture of the Tsar as the only relief on the walls， were like a torture chamber。I was more than ever convinced that the Imperial Ballet School is an enemy to nature and to Art。
After a week in St。 Petersburg， I went to Moscow。The audience there was not， in the beginning， as enthusiastic as in St。Petersburg—but I will quote from the great Stanislavsky：
“At about this period，1908 or 1909，I do not remember the date exactly， I came to know two great geniuses of the time who made a very strong impression on me—Isadora Duncan and Gordon Craig。 I appeared at Isadora Duncan's concert by accident， having heard nothing about her until that time， and having read none of the advertisements that heralded her coming to Moscow。Therefore I was very much surprised that in the rather small audience that cameto see her there was a tremendous percentage of artists and sculptors with Mamontov at their head， many artists of the ballet， and many first？nighters and lovers of the unusual in the theatre。The first appearance of Duncan on me stage did not make a very big impression。Unaccustomed to see an almost naked body on the stage， I could hardly notice and understand the art of the dancer。The first number on the programme was met with tepid applause and timid attempts at whistling。But after a few of the succeeding numbers， one of which was especially persuasive， I could no longer remain indiferent to the protests of the general public and began to applaud demonstratively。
“When the intermission came， I，a newly baptised disciple of the great artist， ran to the footlights to applaud。 To my joy I found myself side by side with Mamontov， who was doing exactly what I was doing， and near Mamontov was a famous artist， a sculptor， and a writer。When the general run of the audience saw that among those who applauded were well？known Moscow artists and actors， there was a great deal of confusion。The hissing stopped， and when the public saw that it could applaud， the applause became general， and was followed by curtain calls， and at the end of the performance by an ovation。
“From that time on I never missed a single one of the Duncan concerts。 The necessity to see her often was dictated from within me by an artistic feeling that was closely related to her art。Later， when I became acquainted with her methods as well as with the ideas of her greatfriend Craig， I came to know that in different corners of the world， due to conditions unknown to us， various people in various spheres sought in Art for the same naturally born creative principles。Upon meeting they were amazed at the common character of their ideas。This is exactly what happened at the meeting I am describing。We understood each other almost before we had said a single word。I did not have the chance to become acquainted with Duncan on her first visit to Moscow。But during her second visit she came to our theatre， and I received her as a guest of honour， This reception became general， for our entire company joined me， as they had all come to know and love her as an artist。
“Duncan does not know how to speak of her art logically and systematically。 Her ideas come to her by accident， as the result of the most unexpected everyday facts。For instance， when she was asked who taught her to dance， she answered：
“‘Terpsichore。 I danced from the moment I learned to stand on my feet。I have danced all my life。Man， all humanity， the whole world， must dance。This was， and always will be。It is in vain that people interfere with this and do not want to understand a natural need given us by nature。Et voila lout，'she finished in her inimitable Franco？American dialect。Another time， speaking of a performance of hers that was just over， during which visitors came to her dressing？room and interfered with her preparations， she explained：
“‘I cannot dance that way。 Before I go out on thestage， I must place a motor in my soul。When that begins to work my legs and arms and my whole body will move independently of my will。But if I do not get time to put that motor in my soul， I cannot dance。'
“At that time I was in search of that very creative motor， which the actor must learn to put in his soul before he comes out on the stage。 Evidently I must have bored Duncan with my questions。I watched her during her performances and her rehearsals， when her developing emotion would frst change the expression of her face， and with shining eyes she would pass to the display of what was born in her soul。In remembering all our accidental discussion of Art， and comparing what she did to what I was doing， it became clear to me that we were looking for one and the same thing in diferent branches of art。During our talks about Art， Duncan continually mentioned the name of Gordon Craig， whom she considered a genius and one of the greatest men in the contemporary theatre。
“‘He belongs not only to his country， but to the whole world，'she said，‘and he must live where his genius will have the best chance to display itself， where working conditions and the general atmosphere will be best fitted to his needs。 His place is in your Art theatre。'
“I know that she wrote a great deal to him about me and our theatre， persuading him to come to Russia。 As for myself， I began to persuade the Direction of our theatre to invite the great stage director to come so as to give our art a new impetus forward and to pour more yeast into thedough at the time when it seemed to us that our theatre had broken through the blind wall before it at last I must pay full justice to my comrades。They discussed the matter like true artists and they decided to spend a large sum of money in order to advance our art。”
As much as the ballet had flled me with horror， so the Stanislavsky Theatre thrilled me with enthusiasm。 I went there every night that I was not dancing myself， and was received with the greatest affection by all the troupe。Stanislavsky came very often to see me， and thought that by questioning me thoroughly he would be able to transform all my dances into a new school of dancing in his theatre。But I told him that could only be done by beginning with children。Apropos of this， on my next visit to Moscow， I saw some young， beautiful girls of his troupe trying to dance， but the result was deplorable。
As Stanislavsky was exceedingly busy all day in his theatre with rehearsals， he was in the habit of coming to see me frequently after the performance。 In his book he says of these talks：“I suppose I must have tired Duncan with my questions。”No；he did not tire me。I was bursting with enthusiasm to transmit my ideas。
In fact the keen， snowy air， the Russian food， especially the caviar， had completely cured my wasting illness， caused by the spiritual love of Thode。 And now my whole being longed for the contact of a strong personality。As Stanislavsky stood before me， I saw such an one in him。
One night I looked at him， with his fine handsome fgure， broad shoulders， black hair， just turning to grey on the temples， and something within me revolted at always playing this role of Egeria。 As he was about to leave， I placed my hands on his shoulders and entwined them about his strong neck， then， pulling his head down to mine， I kissed him on the mouth。He returned my kiss with tenderness。But he wore a look of extreme astonishment， as if this were the last thing he expected。Then， when I attempted to draw him further， he started back and， looking at me with consternation， exclaimed，“But what should we do with the child？”“What child？”I asked。“Why， our child， of course。What should we do with it？You see，”he continued in a ponderous manner，“I would never approve of any child of mine being raised outside my jurisdiction， and that would be difficult in my present household。”
His extraordinary seriousness about this child was too much for my sense of humour， and I burst into laughter， at which he stared in distress， left me， and hurried down the corridor of the hotel。 I was still laughing at intervals all night。But， none the less， in spite of my laughter， I was exasperated， and angry too。I think I then thoroughly understood why some quite refined men might slam on their hats after certain meetings with the highly intellectual， and betake themselves to places of doubtful reputation。Well， being a woman， I couldn't do this；so I twisted and turned the rest of the night。In the morning I repaired to a Russian bath， where the alternate hot steam and cold water retoned my system。
And yet， in contradiction， the young men I had met in Kschinsky's loge， who would have given anything to be allowed to make love to me， bored me so by the first words they said to me that they even froze my senses to the very centre of desire。 I suppose this is what is called a cerebrale。Certainly after the inspiring and cultured society of Charles Hallé and Heinrich Thode， I could not possible stand the society of the jeunesse dorée！
Many years later， I told this story of Stanislavsky to his wife， who was overcome with merriment， and exclaimed，“Oh， but that is just like him。 He takes life so seriously。”
Attack as I might， I received some sweet kisses， but otherwise I just met with a callous， solid resistance which there was no disputing。 Stanislavsky didn't risk coming to my room again after the theatre， but one day he made me very happy by taking me out in an open sleigh to a restaurant in the country， where we had lunch in a private room。We drank vodka and champagne and we talked of Art， and I was finally convinced that it would take Circe herself to break down the stronghold of Stanislavsky's virtue。
I had often heard of the terrible dangers which young girls risked by going into theatrical life， but， as my readers can see from my career so far， it was just the opposite。 I really suffered from too much awe and respect and admiration， which I inspired in my admirers。
In a brief visit to Kief， after Moscow， hordes of students stood in the public square before the theatre and would not let me pass until I promised to give a recital where they could be present， as the prices of my performances were much too high for them。 After I left the theatre they were still there， manifesting resentment against the manager。I stood up in the sleigh and talked to them， saying how proud and happy I would be if my Art could inspire the intellectual youth of Russia；for nowhere in the world do students care so much for ideals and Art as in Russia。
This first visit to Russia was cut short by previous engagements which recalled me to Berlin。 Before I left I had signed a contract to return in the spring。In spite of the shortness of my visit， I had left a considerable impression。There were many quarrels for and against my ideals；and one duel was actually fought between a fanatic balletoman and a Duncan enthusiast It was from that epoch that the Russian ballet began to annex the music of Chopin and Schumann and wear Greek costumes；some ballet dancers even going so far as to take of their shoes and stockings。
