Isadora Duncan (1878-1927) was the toast of Europe at the turn of the twentieth century, dancing her way into the hearts of her admirers. The American-born creator of modern dance drew crowds of notable fans to her revolutionary dance performances.
It was at one of these performances in Berlin in 1904 that Gordon Craig, a brilliant theater designer and son of renowned actress Ellen Terry, first saw Isadora in person. Gordon admits in his memoirs that he felt speechless, utterly awed. He writes that her movements on the dance floor were both primal and ethereal. At the end of the performance, he met her in her dressing room. On that very evening,
while dancing, Isadora claimed she *felt a presence* out in the audience. As a rule, she never looked out but that evening she was drawn to Gordon Craig and upon meeting him, promptly invited him to dinner.
Christmas Day 1904
Grand Hotel D’Europe
Just arrived this morning — Christmas morning
Here it’s the 12 of December (remember the 12 days of Christmas)
My Darling —
I don’t like it at all. All the Chairs are staring at me in the most frightful way — And there is a Lady on the Mantel piece who has taken a Great objection to me — and I’m awfully scared —
This is no place for a person with a nice cheerful disposition like me — it looks like those parlors in the Novels where they plot things —
All night long the train has not been flying over but going pim de pim over Great fields of snow — vast plains of snow — Great bare Countries covered with snow (Walt Whitman could have written ’em up
fine) and over all this the Moon shining — and across the window always a Golden shower of sparks — from the locomotive — it was quite worth seeing and I lay there looking out on it all and thinking of you — of you, you dearest sweetest best darling —
The City is covered in snow and little sleighs rushing madly about — All things go in sliders of course. I send you many little missives along the way — Hope they arrived! —
I must go now and wash the soot off and have my Breakfast.
Give my love to Dear Dear No. 11 and to that musty little dear Home No. 6 and for your dear self my heart is overflowing with just the most unoriginal old fashionest sort of love.
Write to me — and tell me — I go now to splash
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