FLARE OF THE FOOTLIGHTS
I
Times change. When Lola returned to London a passage through the
divorce court was not regarded as a necessary qualification for stage
aspirants. Also, being well aware that, to ensure a good reception, a
foreign-sounding name was desirable, this one decided to adopt that of
Lola Montez. This, she felt, would, among other advantages,
effectively mask her identity with that of Mrs. Thomas James, an
identity she was anxious to shed.
Her plans were soon made. On the morning after her arrival, she
presented her letter of introduction to the impressario of Her
Majesty's Theatre, in the Haymarket. This position was held by an
affable Hebrew, one Benjamin Lumley, an ex-solicitor, who had
abandoned his parchments and bills of costs and acquired a lease of
Her Majesty's. The house had long been looked upon as something of a
white elephant in the theatrical jungle; but Lumley, being pushful and
knowledgeable, soon built up a valuable following and set the
establishment on its legs.
As luck would have it, Lola's interview with him came at just the
right moment, for he was alternating ballet with opera and was in want
of a fresh attraction. Convinced that he recognised it in his caller
(or, perhaps, anxious to please Lord Malmesbury), he offered her an
engagement there and then to dance a _pas seul_ between the acts of
_Il Barbiere di Seviglia_.
"If you make a hit," he said, "you shall have a contract for the rest
of the season. It all depends on yourself."
Lola, wanting nothing better, left the managerial office, treading on
air.
As was his custom, Lumley cultivated the critics, and would receive
them in his sanctum whenever he had a novel attraction to submit.
"I have a surprise for you in my next programme," he said, when the
champagne and cigars had been discussed. "This is that I have secured
Donna Lola, a Spanish dancer, direct from Seville. She is, I assure
you, deliciously beautiful and remarkably accomplished. I pledge you
my word, gentlemen, she will create a positive _furore_ here."
In 1843 dramatic critics had the privilege of attending rehearsals and
penetrating behind the scenes. One of their number, adopting the
pseudonym "Q," has left an account of the manner in which he first met
Lola Montez. He had called on Lumley for a gossip, and was invited by
that authority to descend to the stage and watch his new acquisition
practising a dance there.
"At that period," he says, "her figure was even more attractive than
her face, lovely as the latter was. Lithe and graceful as a young
fawn, every movement she made was instinct with melody. Her dark eyes
were blazing and flashing with excitement, for she felt that I was
willing to admire her.... As she swept round the stage, her slender
waist swayed to the music, and her graceful head and neck bent with it
like a flower that bends with the impulse given to its stem by the
fitful temper of the wind."
Lumley was tactful enough to leave the pressman alone with the star.
As the latter promised to "give her a good puff in his paper," Lola,
who never missed an opportunity, made herself specially agreeable to
him. Her bright eyes did their work. "When we separated," says "Q" in
his reminiscences, "I found myself tumbled heels over head into the
profound depths of that which the French call a _grande passion_."
Lumley's next step was to draw up an announcement of the promised
novelty for inclusion in the programme:
HER MAJESTY'S THEATRE
June 3, 1843
SPECIAL ATTRACTION!
Mr. Benjamin Lumley begs to announce that, between the acts
of the Opera, DONNA LOLA MONTEZ, of the Teatro Real,
Seville, will have the honour to make her first appearance
in England in the Original Spanish dance El Oleano.
After the cast list had been set out the rest of the reading matter on
the programme was given up to advertisements. Some of them would
appear to have been selected rather at haphazard. At any rate, their
special appeal to music lovers was a little difficult to follow. Thus,
one was of "Jackson's patent enema machines, as patronised by the
nobility (either sex) when travelling"; another of "Mrs. Rodd's
anatomical ladies' stays (which ensure the wearer a figure of
astonishing symmetry";) and another of a "Brilliant burlesque ballad,
'Get along, Rosey,' sung with the most positive triumph every evening
by Madame Vestris."
With much satisfaction, Manager Lumley, taking a preliminary peep at
the crowded house, saw that a particularly "smart" audience was
assembled on the night of June 3. The list of "fashionables" he handed
to the reporters resembled an extract from the pages of Messrs. Burke
and Debrett. Thus, the Royal Box was graced by the Queen Dowager, with
the King of Hanover and Prince Edward of Saxe-Weimar for her guests;
and, dotted about the pit tier (then the fashionable part of the
house) were the Duke and Duchess of Wellington, the Marquess and
Marchioness of Granby, Lord and Lady Brougham, and the Baroness de
Rothschild, with the Belgian Minister, Count Esterhazy, and Baron
Talleyrand. Even the occupants of the pit had to accept an official
intimation that "only black trousers will be allowed." Her Majesty's
had a standard, and Lumley insisted on its observance.
That long familiar feature, "Fops' Alley," having disappeared from the
auditorium, the modish thing for unattached men was to make up a party
and hire an omnibus-box; and from that position to pronounce judgment
upon the legs of the dancers pirouetting in wispy gauze on the stage.
Then, when the curtain fell, they would be privileged to go behind the
scenes and chat with the coryphées.
On the evening of Lola's début one of the omnibus-boxes was occupied
by Lord Ranelagh, a raffish mid-Victorian roué, who had brought with
him a select party of "Corinthians" in frilled shirts and flowered
waistcoats. It was observed that he paid but languid attention to the
opera. As soon, however, as the promised novelty, _El Oleano_, was
reached, he exhibited a sudden interest and pushed his chair forward.
"We shall see some fun in a moment," he whispered. "Mind you fellows
keep quiet until I give the word."
II
A little ominous, perhaps, that the Haymarket entrepreneur should bear
the same name as the Calcutta judge who had unsuccessfully sought her
hand. But Lola experienced no qualms. As she stood at the wings, in a
black satin bodice and much flounced pink silk skirt, waiting for her
cue, Lumley passed her with a nod of encouragement.
"Capital," he said, rubbing his whiskers. "Most attractive. You'll be
a big success, my dear."
As he moved off, a bell tinkled in the prompt corner. In response, the
conductor lifted his baton; the heavy curtains were drawn aside; and,
under a cross-fire of opera glasses, Lola bounded on to the stage and
executed her initial piroutte. There was a sudden hush, as, at the
finish of the number, she stepped up to the footlights and awaited the
verdict. Had she made good, or not? In a moment, however, she knew
that all was well, for a storm of applause and clapping of hands
filled the air. Lumley, from his place in the wings, beamed approval.
His enterprise was to be rewarded. The débutante was a success. No
doubt about it. She should have a contract from him before any other
manager should step in and snap her up.
We do not believe (scribbled a critic, hurriedly jotting
down his impressions, to be expanded when he got back to his
office) that Donna Lola smiled once throughout her
performance. As she withdrew, numbers of bouquets fell on to
the stage. But the proud one of Seville did not deign to
return to pick them up, and one of the gentlemen in livery
was deputed for that purpose. When, however, her measure was
encored, she stepped down from her pinnacle and actually
condescended to accept an additional bouquet that had been
tossed by a fair one from a box.
Her Majesty's Theatre (added a colleague) may now be said to
be in its full zenith of grandeur and perfection of beauty
and splendour, and variety and fame of the ballet. A new
Spanish Donna has been introduced. Although the visitation
was unheralded by the customary flourish of trumpeting _on
dits_, it was extremely successful. The young lady came and
saw and conquered. Many floral offerings were shot at her as
a compliment, and the useful M. Coulos--ever at hand in such
an emergency--assisted very industriously in picking them
up. As for _El Oleano_, this is a sort of cachucha; and it
certainly gives Donna Lola Montez an opportunity of
introducing herself to the public under a very captivating
aspect.... A lovely picture she is to contemplate. There is
before you the very perfection of Spanish beauty--the tall
handsome figure, the full lustrous eye, the joyous animated
countenance, and the dark raven tresses. You gaze upon the
Donna with delight and admiration.
It was just after the third item on her programme and while she stood
before the curtain, bowing and smiling her acknowledgments, that there
was an unexpected interruption. An ominous hiss suddenly split the
air. The sound came from the occupants of the stage box in which Lord
Ranelagh and his party had ensconced themselves. As at a prearranged
signal, the occupants of the opposite box took it up and repeated it.
The audience gasped in astonishment, and looked to Lord Ranelagh for a
solution. He supplied one promptly. "Egad!" he exclaimed in a loud
voice, "that's not Lola Montez at all. It's Betsy James, an Irish
girl. Ladies and gentlemen, we're being properly swindled!"
"Swindled" was an ugly word. The pit and gallery, feeling that they
were in some mysterious fashion being defrauded, followed the cue thus
given them, and a volume of hisses and cat-calls sprang from the
throats that, a moment earlier, had bellowed vociferous cheers. The
great Michael Costa, who was conducting, dropped his baton in
astonishment, and, refusing to pick it up again, left his desk. There
is a theory that it was this untoward incident that led him to
transfer himself from the Haymarket to Covent Garden. Quite possible.
Musicians are temperamental folk.
It was left for Lumley to deal with the situation. He did so by
ringing down the curtain, while Lola, in tears and fury, rushed off to
her dressing-room.
III
Perhaps they left early, but none of the critics saw anything of this
_dénouement_. What, however, they did see they described in rapturous,
not to say, florid terms:
We saw, as in a dream (declared one of them), an Elssler or
a Taglioni descend from the clouds, under the traits of a
new dancer, whose fervent admirers lavished on her all the
enthusiasm and applause with which the rare perfection of
her predecessors has been rewarded.
On Saturday last, between the acts of the opera, Donna Lola
Montez was announced to appear on the programme at Her
Majesty's. A thousand ardent spectators were in feverish
anxiety to see her. Donna Lola enchanted everyone. There was
throughout a graceful flowing of the arms--not an angle
discernible--an indescribable softness in her attitude and
suppleness in her limbs which, developed in a thousand
positions (without infringing on the Opera laws), were the
most intoxicating and womanly that can be imagined. We never
remember seeing the _habitués_--both young and old--taken by
more agreeable surprise than the bewitching lady excited.
She was rapturously encored, and the stage strewn with
bouquets.
Lord Ranelagh and his friends must have grinned when they read this
gush.
"I saw Lumley immediately after the fall of the curtain," says a
reporter who was admitted behind the scenes. "He was surrounded by the
professors of morality from the omnibus-box, who said that Donna Lola
was positively not to reappear. They pointed out to him that it was
absolutely essential to have none but exemplary characters in the
ballet; but they did not tell him where he would procure females who
would have no objection to exhibiting their legs in pink silk
fleshings. As Lumley could not afford to offend his patrons, he was
compelled to accept the _fiat_ of these virtuous scions of a moral and
ultra-scrupulous aristocracy. Carlotta Grisi might have had a score of
lovers; but, then, she had never turned up her charming little nose at
my Lord Ranelagh."
It was an age when the theatre had to kow-tow to the patron. Unless My
Lord approved, Mr. Crummles had no choice but to ring down the
curtain. As the Ranelagh faction very emphatically disapproved, Lumley
was compelled to give the recruit her marching-orders.
Lola's _première_ had thus become her _dernière_.
By the way, a Sunday paper, writing some time afterwards, was guilty
of a serious slip in its account of the episode, and mistook Lord
Ranelagh for the Duke of Cambridge. "The newcomer," says this critic,
"was recognised as Mrs. James by a Prince of the Blood and his
companions in the omnibus-box. Her beauty could not save her from
insult; and, to avenge themselves on Mr. Lumley, for some pique, these
chivalrous English gentlemen of the upper classes hooted a woman from
the stage."
What was behind Lord Ranelagh's cowardly attack on the débutante?
There was a simple explanation, and not one that redounded to his
credit in any way. It was that, during her "Bohemian" period, he had
endeavoured to fill the empty niche left in her affections by the
departure of that light-o'-love, Captain Lennox, and had been repulsed
for his pains. A bad loser, my Lord nursed resentment. He would teach
a mere ballet-dancer to snap her fingers at him. His opportunity came
sooner than he imagined. He made the most of it.
Fond as he was of biting, Lord Ranelagh was, some years afterwards,
himself bitten. He took a prominent part in an unsavoury scandal that
fluttered mid-Victorian dovecotes, when a Bond Street "beauty
specialist," known as Madame Rachel, was clapped into prison for
swindling a wealthy and amorous widow. This was a Mrs. Borrodaile,
whom "Madame" had gulled by declaring that Lord Ranelagh's one desire
was to share his coronet with her. Although the raffish peer denied
all complicity, he did not come out of the business too well.
"The peculiar prominence he has attained," remarked an obituarist,
"has not always been of an enviable description. There are probably
few men who have had so many charges of the most varied and
disagreeable nature made against them. The resultant obloquy to which
he had thus been exposed is great, nor has it vanished, as it properly
should have done, with the charges themselves."
This, however, was looking ahead. The comments of 1843 came first. "In
the clubs that night," we read, "the bucks and bloods laughed heartily
when they discussed the mishap of the proud beauty who had scorned the
advances of my Lord." Lola Montez, however, did not regard it as
anything at which to laugh. She may, as she boasted, have had a dash
of Spanish blood in her veins, but she certainly had none of George
Washington's, for she immediately sat down and wrote a circular letter
to all the London papers. In this she sought to correct what she
described as a "false impression." Swallowing it as gospel, a number
of them printed it in full:
_To the Editor_.
SIR:
Since I had the honour of dancing at Her Majesty's Theatre,
on Saturday, the 3rd inst. (when I was received by the
English public in so kind and flattering a manner) I have
been cruelly annoyed by reports that I am not really the
person I pretend to be, but that I have long been known in
London as a woman of disreputable character. I entreat you,
Sir, to allow me, through the medium of your respected
journal, to assure you and the public, in the most positive
and unqualified manner, that there is not a word of truth in
such a statement.
I am a native of Seville; and in the year 1833, when ten
years old, was sent to a Catholic lady at Bath, where I
remained seven months, and was then taken back to my parents
in Spain. From that period, until the 14th of April, when I
landed in England, _I have never set foot in this country,
and I never saw London before in my life_.
In apologising for the favour I ask you, I feel sure that
you will kindly consider the anxiety of myself and my
friends to remove from the public any impression to my
disadvantage. My lawyer has received instructions to proceed
against all the parties who have calumniated me.
Believe me to be your obedient and humble servant,
LOLA MONTEZ.
_June 13, 1843._
Ballet-dancers cannot, when making their débuts, be expected to
remember everything; and this one had obviously forgotten her sojourn
in India, just as she had forgotten her marriage to Thomas James (and
the subsequent Consistory Court action), as well as her amorous
dalliance with Captain Lennox during the previous year.
"In spite of the encouraging reception accorded Donna Lola Montez, she
has not danced again," remarked a critic in the _Examiner_. "What is
the reason?"
Lumley could have supplied the information. He did so, some years
afterwards, in his book, _Reminiscences of the Opera_:
It is not my intention to rake up the world-wide stories of
this strange and fascinating woman. Perhaps it will be
sufficient to say frankly that I was, in this instance,
fairly "taken in." A Noble Lord (afterwards closely
connected with the Foreign Office) had introduced the lady
to my notice as the daughter of a celebrated _Spanish_
Patriot and martyr, representing her merits as a dancer in
so strong a light that her "appearance" was granted.
... But this spurious Spanish lady had no real knowledge of
that which she professed. The whole affair was an imposture;
and on the very night of her first appearance the truth
exploded. On the discovery of the truth, I declined to allow
the English adventuress, for such she was, another
appearance on my boards. In spite of the expostulations of
the "friends" of the lady--in spite of the deprecatory
letters in which she earnestly denied her English
origin--in spite even of the desire expressed in high places
to witness her strange performance--I remained inflexible.
The "Noble Lord" thus referred to in this pompous disclaimer was Lord
Malmesbury.
[Illustration: _Viscount Ranelagh, who organised a cabal against Lola
Montez_]
IV
If she had a quick temper, Lola Montez had a good heart, and was
always ready to lend a helping hand to others. In this connection
Edward Fitzball, a hack dramatist with whom things were not going
well, has a story of how she volunteered to assist in a benefit
performance that was being got up to set him on his legs. It was
difficult to secure attractions; and the beneficiare, realising that,
as was the custom in such cases, he would have to make good any
deficit himself, was feeling depressed.
"This benefit," he says, "which I fully expected would prove to be a
decided loss, annoyed me sadly. I was sauntering along Regent Street
when I met Stretton, the popular singer, whose own benefit was just
coming off. He said that he had secured every attraction worthy of the
public, and that there was no hope for me, 'unless,' he added, 'you
could secure Lola Montez.'
"'Pray, who is that?' I said in my ignorance.
"'Lola Montez is a lady who appeared the other night at Her Majesty's
Theatre as a dancer, but, due to some aristocratic disturbance, has
left in disgust. The papers were full of it. I offered her £50 to
dance for me, and met with a decided refusal. Hence, I see no hope for
you.'"
Fitzball, however, thinking it worth while taking a chance, hurried to
Lola's lodgings and begged her to contribute to the programme he was
offering. He had not expected to be successful, since he knew that she
was smarting under a sense of injury. To his surprise and delight,
however, she promised her services, and refused to accept any
payment.
Overjoyed at the success of his embassy, Fitzball rushed off to the
printers and had the hoardings plastered with bills, directing special
attention to the novelty:
THEATRE ROYAL, COVENT GARDEN
Monday, July 10, 1843.
COLOSSAL ATTRACTION!
(For the Benefit of Mr. Fitzball)
EXTRAORDINARY COMBINATION OF TALENT!
During the evening the celebrated DONNA LOLA MONTEZ (whose
recent performance created so pronounced a sensation at Her
Majesty's Theatre) will execute, by special request, her
remarkable dance, "El Oleano."
N.B.--This will positively be the Donna's only appearance in
London, as she departs on Thursday next for St. Petersburg.
"The theatre," says Fitzball, in his account of the evening, "was
crammed. Lola Montez arrived in a splendid carriage, accompanied by
her maid. When she was dressed, she enquired if I thought her costume
would be approved. I have seen sylphs and female forms of the most
dazzling beauty in ballets and fairy dramas, but the most dazzling and
perfect form I ever did gaze upon was that of Lola Montez in her white
and gold attire studded with diamonds. Her bounding before the public
was the signal for general applause and admiration. On the conclusion
of her performance, there was a rapturous and universal call for her
reappearance."