As we have spoken of public dancing in the time of Henry VII., we will
show that the enormous sums paid to _artists_ have nourished their
conceit to an alarming height. Pitrot, the Vestris of his day, was a
consummate specimen of this effrontery. At Vienna, he chose to appear
only in the last act of the ballet. The emperor desired him to come
forth at the end of the first; Pitrot refused; the court left the
opera, and then Pitrot told the dancers they would have a hop by
themselves, which they did. However, this was forgiven; and, at his
departure, he was presented with the emperor's picture, set with
brilliants. Pitrot received it with _sang froid_, pressed his thumb
upon the crystal, crushed the picture to pieces, adding, "Thus I treat
men not worthy of my friendship." This fellow behaved equally ill
in France, Prussia, and Russia; but, at length, scouted by all his
patrons, and, after giving his thousands to opera girls, he wandered
about Calais in rags and poverty. Farinelli, after accumulating a
fortune in England, built a superb mansion in Italy, which he called
the _English Folly_.[1]

[1] Here is a card "extraordinary" of one of our humble English
dancing-masters:--"As Dancing is the poetry of motion, those who
wish to sail through the mazes of harmony, or to 'trip it on the
light fantastic toe,' will find an able guide in John Wilde, who
was formed by nature for a dancing-master.--N.B. Those who have
been taught to dance with _a couple of left legs_, had better
apply in time, as he effectually cures all bad habits of the
kind."

The oddity of some ideas of dancing is really ludicrous. The
Cambro-Britains, in a very late period, used to be played out of