MADAME RACHEL
THE BEAUTY SPECIALIST
Anybody who has sufficient self-assurance to set up as a "beauty
specialist" will never want for clients as long as there are
middle-aged and ugly women in existence and vanity continues to be one
of the most common weaknesses of humanity. But when Rachel Leverson,
an unscrupulous London Jewess, claimed to have discovered a process
by which she could make members of her own sex beautiful for ever she
struck out into a new line, and one that proved eminently successful
until the police intervened.
Madame Rachel, as she called herself, had no pretensions to good looks.
She was, to tell the truth, repulsive in appearance, being stout, with
a greasy skin, irregular features, eyes that repelled, and a manner
that was generally familiar and always irritating. But just as men will
buy a hair-restorer from a bald-headed barber so will women flock to an
ugly creature to learn the secret of beauty. Madame Rachel was ugly in
mind as well as in body; she was rapacious and unscrupulous, and yet
for years she prospered as a "beauty doctor."
It was a very risky business that Madame Rachel brought into existence,
but, despite her audacious frauds, it was not without difficulty that
she was convicted in a court of law and punished for her crimes.
Before starting as a "beauty specialist" Rachel Leverson had tried
fortune-telling, but the profits had been too small and clients too
few, and she quickly retired from it to strike out on new lines, and
she did not have to wait very long before her bank balance justified
her enterprise.
The woman's headquarters were in a house at the corner of Maddox
Street and New Bond Street, and were, therefore, right in the heart of
fashionable London.
Her methods were a mixture of quackery, blackmail, subserviency and
bullying, and, realizing that most people do not value anything which
is not costly, she charged enormous fees. Whenever she quoted them she
did so in a reluctant manner, as if to suggest that she personally got
nothing out of the business, and was, in fact, really a philanthropist.
Of course, she relied principally on her knowledge of the weaknesses of
her sex, and those would-be clients whose financial position obviously
precluded them from adding to her profits she skilfully used to
advertise her merits.
On one occasion the widow of a Civil Servant, a lady in the fifties,
who had lost her good looks many years earlier in the hot suns of
India, applied to Madame Rachel to be made beautiful for ever, being
unaware that the Jewess charged a hundred guineas for the preliminary
treatment only and that she required a thousand guineas for the full
course. But as the lady was in society Madame Rachel did not drive
her away with contumely, as she had persons of low degree. She merely
surveyed her caller, and then announced that she could not accept less
than five hundred guineas "on account."
[Illustration: "MADAME RACHEL"]
"You should understand," said Madame Rachel, leaning back in an
arm-chair, and speaking in an impressive manner, "that the process
I have discovered is known only to myself, and that it is a very
expensive one to work. I have to charge high fees not only for that
reason, but to make sure that only ladies of rank and fortune will
patronize me. _Ladies_ will keep my secret, I know. If they didn't I
should be out of work"--here she laughed--"in a month. I am sorry that
you cannot afford the course of treatment, for I am sure that it would
do all you require. Still, it can't be helped."
The widow went off to tell her acquaintances, and, incidentally, to
get half a dozen friends to lend her sufficient money to undergo the
expensive treatment. In return she promised that as soon as she had
discovered the secret process she would reveal it to them, and then
they could make themselves beautiful without having to spend another
penny or consult the beauty doctor.
A week later the widow paid Madame Rachel the five hundred guineas,
and at once began the treatment. It continued for a month, during
which time the victim drank all sorts of medicines, had innumerable
baths, sat in dark rooms for hours, and painted her skin with vile
concoctions. Instead of becoming more beautiful, she got even uglier,
and at last she came to the conclusion that she was being trifled
with. As soon as she realized this she demanded the return of her five
hundred guineas.
Madame Rachel, who had hitherto acted the part of the sleek,
half-obsequious, half-familiar friend, burst into a roar of laughter
when the request was made, and, towering over the widow, with her
greasy face distorted with passion, and her heavy thick hands clenched,
she cursed, threatened and jeered.
"I will not give you more than a minute to leave my premises," she
shouted, in conclusion, and she looked capable of murdering her
dissatisfied client. "I suppose you think that because I am an
unprotected woman trying to earn an honest living that you can bluff
me? I have spent the whole of your fee on the treatment and haven't
made a penny profit, and now--"
"That's a lie," cried the courageous widow. "Don't shout at me, woman.
I am going straight to my solicitor to instruct him to issue a writ
against you."
Madame Rachel laughed horribly.
"Splendid," she cried, clapping her hands. "Nothing would please me
better. I should revel in such a law case, and so would your friends.
Wouldn't they laugh when they heard that the ugliest woman in England
was so stupidly vain as not to know that only a miracle could make her
beautiful! How they will jeer at you! You'll be the laughing stock of
London! I can imagine how the papers will report the case. And the
headlines! It will be a treat to listen to the cross-examination by
my counsel, who will know all that has passed between you and me. Oh,
by all means go to your solicitor, and as a personal favour I implore
you to bring an action against me. It would be the best possible
advertisement for my business."
The widow went, but the writ never came, for on second thoughts she
decided that it would be better to forego the luxury of revenge than to
hold herself up to ridicule. Madame Rachel had anticipated this, and
it was the real reason why she dealt only with persons of good social
position who would not dare to invite publicity.
Another victim was the wife of a man who was a prominent member of the
Conservative Party. She had heard a lot about Madame Rachel, and she
decided to seek her advice as to the best method of improving her skin,
which was unpleasantly sallow. The swindler pretended that she had an
infallible remedy for this, and when the statesman's wife called she
did not hesitate to guarantee a cure, provided her instructions were
followed. Madame Rachel advised daily baths and the use of certain
cosmetics, and for these a very stiff fee was paid in advance. Three
times a week the lady came to the establishment to undergo the
treatment, and Madame Rachel was always in attendance, with a huge
smile and plenty of flattery.
It happened that in the course of conversation Madame Rachel had
learned from her client that she was taking the treatment unknown
to her husband because she wished to give him a pleasant surprise.
Husband and wife were as deeply in love with one another as they had
been on their wedding day, and the lady lived only to please him,
and she thought that if she suddenly presented herself before him
with a beautiful skin he would be enchanted. The information greatly
interested the swindler, whose greedy eyes had noticed that the lady
wore on her fingers diamond rings which could not have cost less than a
thousand pounds.
During the first week of the treatment, which mainly consisted of
taking baths, the client wore her rings all the time. But Madame Rachel
pretended that they hampered her process, and so she insisted upon the
lady discarding them with her clothes before entering the bath. The
request was complied with--the "beauty specialist" had a wonderful
power over her customers--and as a result the "patient" never saw her
rings again. When she missed them after returning from the bath, she
immediately rang the bell and complained to the maid. The next moment
Madame Rachel burst into the room in a rage and began to pour a stream
of filthy abuse upon her client, who saw at once that the "beauty
specialist" was the thief, and taxed her with the crime. Instead of
repudiating the accusation, she retorted by declaring that unless the
lady went at once and gave no more trouble she would declare that she
had been to her house to meet a gentleman by appointment who was not
her husband.
"You never told your husband that you've been coming here," she
screamed triumphantly, noticing the look of dismay and fright on her
client's face. "It's been a secret to him. What would he say if I
told him, and my assistants confirmed me, that you'd been keeping
clandestine appointments with a lover? Go and let me hear no more of
your alleged losses, or it'll be the worse for you."
That lady was not very wise, for she did not tell her husband at once
how she had been tricked. Had she consulted him immediately he would
have taken steps to recover the jewellery, but it was too late to do
anything when she admitted how she had allowed herself to be robbed.
All the time there was a steady flow of clients who paid enormous
fees and solemnly went through the farcial programme which Madame
Rachel guaranteed would confer everlasting beauty upon them. They were
mainly middle-aged widows and old maids, who fancied that certain
distinguished men of their acquaintance had grown "interested" in
them, and would propose if only they were a little more attractive or
appeared just a few years younger. When clients were without eligible
male friends the "beauty specialist" undertook to supply them with
husbands for a consideration. Indeed, there was nothing she would not
promise in return for a substantial sum of money.
Her strongest protection was the knowledge that her patrons feared
ridicule more than the loss of their money. Dissatisfied clients
occasionally created scenes at the beauty shop, and then Madame
Rachel treated them to language which sent them scampering from her
premises. But the majority took their disappointment quietly, not even
registering a protest when after months of "treatment" they found
themselves worse than when they had started.
Meanwhile, the money rolled in, and Madame Rachel, who had once told
fortunes in vile public-houses at a penny a time, now sported a
carriage and pair, and was frequently seen in the most fashionable
restaurants. When strangers saw her they invariably inquired as to
the identity of the vulgar creature, and the usual answer was, "She's
the famous Madame Rachel, who is the greatest beauty specialist in the
world. She has accomplished miracles, I am told." Thus was her fame
extended.
But suddenly the number of patrons began to diminish perceptibly,
greatly to the alarm of the swindler, whose great ambition was to
provide such handsome dowries for her two daughters as would win for
them titled husbands. She had already saved thousands of pounds, but
she required much more for her purpose, and it was quite by accident
she discovered how to improve upon her swindle.
A certain woman of thirty, plain and uncouth, came to her to be
changed into a beauty. She had the money to pay for the process, and
Madame Rachel took her in hand. Alice Maynard was one of those women
who never attract men, and she was fully conscious of the fact. When
she confided her griefs to the "sympathetic" sharper she was at once
promised a husband with a title on the condition that she would reward
her benefactress for her trouble. Miss Maynard cheerfully promised
anything, and from time to time handed over various sums, ranging from
ten guineas to a hundred.
When informed that the woman's savings were exhausted Madame Rachel
introduced her to a man who called himself the "Hon. George Sylvester."
He proposed at once, was accepted, and married the girl shortly
afterwards. Then the "Hon. George," having borrowed fifty pounds
from his bride, disappeared, and it was only when the weeping woman
consulted a book on the peerage with a view to communicating with her
husband's relatives that she discovered that there was no titled family
of the name of Sylvester. Later a solicitor elicited the information
for her that the man she had married was a bookmaker's tout, who had
escorted other ladies to the altar, and for whom the police were
searching.
Alice Maynard, broken-hearted and ashamed, retired to the country, to
die within a few months, leaving Madame Rachel in peaceful possession
of the seven hundred pounds she had had from her. Madame had paid the
"Hon. George Sylvester" five pounds to pose as the son of a peer and
marry the forlorn young lady, and, as she anticipated, it proved a
cheap method for getting rid of her.
The success, from Madame Rachel's point of view, of this affair caused
her to develop it on a larger scale, and very soon another victim
presented herself for the purpose of being plucked. As this deluded
creature seemed likely to yield thousands of pounds, the "beauty
specialist" prepared to reap a rich harvest.
One evening a thin, spare, scraggy little woman with yellow hair,
obviously dyed, painted face and eyebrows, and the affected giggle of
a schoolgirl, called at the beauty shop in Bond Street. She introduced
herself as Mrs. Borradaile, the widow of Colonel Borradaile, and she
asked that she might be made beautiful for ever, because, although
fifty, she had the heart of a child, and she wished to marry again, if
possible.
Even Madame Rachel, with all her experience, had the greatest
difficulty in preventing herself from laughing at this human
caricature, but as Mrs. Borradaile made no secret of her strong
financial position she entered seriously into negotiations. Her first
question was about the amount the widow wished to spend, and the answer
was that she did not want to pay more than a hundred pounds.
Madame Rachel pretended to be satisfied, and there and then she
accepted ten pounds on account, a sum she had often before refused with
scorn. But she knew that Mrs. Borradaile could be bled if properly
treated, and she proved the correctness of this view by getting from
her in the course of the first month four hundred guineas.
The widow was crazy to become beautiful, and, when chance enabled the
swindler to get Mrs. Borradaile completely in her power, the rest was
easy. The two women were discussing the treatment in Madame Rachel's
private room when a maid entered with a card.
Madame Rachel read the name on it with surprise.
"Lord Ranelagh!" she exclaimed, and her astonishment was genuine, for
she did not know the peer. "I wonder why he has come! It can't be that
he wishes to be a client."
Mrs. Borradaile was greatly impressed by the rank of the visitor,
and during the quarter of an hour the "beauty specialist" was absent
from the room she thought of nothing else except the exclusiveness of
her visiting-list. Evidently the woman's oft-repeated claim to be in
society was true.
Mrs. Borradaile knew nothing of Lord Ranelagh's reputation. He was an
idler of doubtful habits, who, with advancing years, could not lose the
delusion that he was a lady-killer. He spent his time running after
women, and his call on Madame Rachel was simply inspired by curiosity.
He did not know the woman, but he wanted to hear something of her
wonderful method, rightly guessing that he would not be repulsed on
account of his social position.
Madame Rachel received him with flattering cordiality, and invited him
to come again. The peer accepted the invitation, and in that moment the
"beauty specialist," who knew how to take advantage of an opportunity,
evolved quite a brilliant scheme for the discomfiture of the widow who
was waiting her return.
Affecting enthusiasm and surprise, she sank into the chair beside Mrs.
Borradaile, looked at her meaningly, seized her hand, and pressed it
between her own.
"I congratulate you, my dear," she whispered, to Mrs. Borradaile's
unfeigned amazement. "You have achieved a wonderful conquest."
"I--I don't understand," Mrs. Borradaile stammered, thinking that
Madame Rachel had gone mad.
"Lord Ranelagh!" she replied, with another pressure of her hot, fat
hands. "He really came to see you. He's been following you to my
establishment every day, and he called just now to inquire about you."
She giggled, and her large black eyes twinkled. "Lord Ranelagh is the
wealthiest bachelor peer in England," she whispered. "I congratulate
you, Mrs. Borradaile, for when the treatment is finished, and you have
satisfied his lordship's standard of beauty, he will make you Lady
Ranelagh. He told me so in confidence, and you must never let a soul
know that I've imparted the secret to you. What a great future is
yours!"
From that moment Mrs. Borradaile was Madame Rachel's body and soul. The
foolish woman actually agreed to pay three thousand pounds to be made
beautiful, and she paid six hundred pounds on account. She was too vain
to entertain the slightest doubts as to Madame Rachel's truthfulness,
and when she was introduced to Lord Ranelagh at her own request, and
a few commonplace remarks passed between them, she was absolutely
convinced that the peer had fallen in love with her, and that when the
"beauty specialist" had finished with her she would become the "Right
Hon. Lady Ranelagh."
It was a very remarkable "courtship," and it is sometimes difficult
to believe, judging by her part in it, that Mrs. Borradaile was quite
sane, although later she recovered sufficiently to start the criminal
proceedings that brought the "beauty shop" to an end. But during the
period when she was daily undergoing baths and using up a large amount
of cosmetics she swallowed every story the adventuress told her, and
allowed herself to be led by the nose.
No courtship being complete without love-letters, the ingenious Madame
Rachel had not the heart to deprive Mrs. Borradaile of the pleasure
of hearing from her lover. It was true that Lord Ranelagh had no
intention of marrying Mrs. Borradaile, for he was only interested in
her because he was curious to see whether the "beauty doctor" could
succeed in transforming the ugly little widow into a handsome woman.
However, Madame Rachel had her own way of producing love-letters, and
she showered them upon Mrs. Borradaile, who believed that they all came
from the peer who had fallen in love with her at first sight.
Many of the letters were published in the papers subsequently, and
created astonishment and mirth. It was never actually proved who wrote
them, because Madame Rachel always insisted upon taking the originals
from the widow, though allowing her to keep copies.
One specimen of the curious correspondence will suffice to show the
sort of stuff Mrs. Borradaile was willing to swallow. The term "granny"
applies to Madame Rachel, who bestowed this endearing term upon herself:
"My only-dearly beloved Mary,
"The little perfume-box and the pencil-case belonged to my
sainted mother. She died with them in her hand. When she was
a schoolgirl it was my father's first gift to her. Granny
has given the watch and locket to me again. Your coronet is
finished, my love. Granny said you had answered my last letter,
but you have forgotten to send it. I forgot yesterday was Ash
Wednesday. Let old granny arrange the time, as we have little
to spare.
"My dearest one, what is the matter with the old woman? She
seems out of sorts. We must manage to keep her in good temper
for our own sakes, because she has to manage all for us, and I
should not have had the joy of your love had it not been for
her. Darling love, Mary, my sweet one, all will be well in a
few hours. The dispatches have arrived. I will let you know
when I hear from you, my heart's love. Bear up, my fond one. I
shall be at your feet--those pretty feet that I love--and you
may kick your ugly old donkey. Two letters, naughty little pet,
and you have not answered one.
"With fond and devoted love,
"Yours, until death,
"William."
All the letters, inspired, it is certain, by Madame Rachel, were in
this strain, and each one contained a warning not to offend her.
The letters the peer was alleged to have written also dropped hints
that the woman's monetary demands were to be met without hesitation,
and by way of compensation he was made to promise a fortune as well
as a title for his bride. Sometimes Lord Ranelagh's letter requested
Mrs. Borradaile to settle certain debts he owed Madame Rachel, and so
artfully interspersed were his epistles with criticisms of her that
Mrs. Borradaile never guessed that they were all forgeries, and very
likely had been dictated by "granny" herself to her daughters.
Madame Rachel's constant advice to Mrs. Borradaile was to persevere
with the treatment, and to start to collect jewellery, because Lord
Ranelagh loved diamonds and pearls. The coronet mentioned in the letter
quoted never had any existence, although the swindler was given eight
hundred pounds to pay for it. She told Mrs. Borradaile that she was
minding it for her, and the deluded woman accepted her assurance that
it was quite safe.
The beauty shop in New Bond Street became Mrs. Borradaile's second
home, because Madame Rachel insisted that she should not do anything
without consulting her. The widow was a gold mine to the adventuress.
She parted with her money readily and cheerfully. Once Madame Rachel
required two hundred guineas for a certain purpose, and, as she did not
wish to draw a cheque on her own account, she told Mrs. Borradaile that
she must purchase a carriage for her wedding, and have the Ranelagh
arms painted upon it. The simple-minded and trusting widow did as she
was told, but, of course, the carriage was never bought, Madame Rachel
utilizing the cheque for her own needs.
It was the same with her trousseau. Mrs. Borradaile chose it, and gave
Madame Rachel the money to settle with the tradespeople. Certain of the
articles, having been delivered, had to be paid for, but the creature
promptly pawned them all because they were of no use to her.
In the course of some months Mrs. Borradaile had bought and paid for
jewellery, clothes, some choice pieces of furniture, a coronet and
a carriage, and she was under the impression that Madame Rachel was
minding them all for her. That was not surprising, seeing that when the
swindler informed her that she and Lord Ranelagh were to be married by
proxy she unhesitatingly accepted that extraordinary way of becoming a
peeress. But Mrs. Borradaile was so delighted to think that some one
had fallen in love with her that she was eager to believe anything.
However, a worm will turn, and when Madame Rachel had bled Mrs.
Borradaile of nearly four thousand pounds as well as securing
promises in writing to pay as much again, the widow suddenly woke up
and consulted her solicitor. That hardheaded man of the world had
no difficulty in proving to her that she had been the victim of a
scandalous swindle, and he counselled an appeal to the law. Accordingly
Madame Rachel was arrested on a charge of having obtained money by
false pretences, and was committed for trial at the Old Bailey.
The trial was a notable one, and attracted crowds to the court. Lord
Ranelagh was given a seat on the bench, and when called as a witness he
denied having met Mrs. Borradaile, and laughed at the idea that he had
written the letters, copies of which were exhibited by the prosecution.
Counsel for the defence cross-examined severely, and Mrs. Borradaile
had a rough time at their hands, and as Madame Rachel noticed that
the case was going favourably for her she began to assume a haughty
attitude, reclining in the dock like a tragedy queen, and sniffing
scornfully whenever any damaging statement was made by a witness for
the other side.
Considering the overwhelming nature of the evidence for the prosecution
it was a remarkable feat on the part of Madame Rachel's counsel that
they should succeed in preventing the jury coming to a decision. The
twelve good men and true took five hours to argue the case amongst
themselves, and then had to announce that they were unable to agree.
Madame Rachel's smile of triumph when the trial was declared abortive
was remarkable, and when the judge ordered a new trial at the next
sessions, and assented to admitting the prisoner to bail, two sureties
at five thousand pounds each, the "beauty specialist" had no difficulty
in obtaining the necessary backing.
Her freedom, however, was destined to be short, for the second
trial--which took place on September 21-25, 1868--ended disastrously
for her.
The prosecution, represented by Mr. Sergeant Ballantine and Montague
Williams and Douglas Straight, advanced no new facts, relying upon a
repetition of the proof they had given at the first trial. But Madame
Rachel's clever array of lawyers--Digby Seymour, Q.C., headed a legal
team of four--were unable to hoodwink a jury again. On this occasion
the twelve men had no difficulty in arriving at an adverse decision,
unanimously finding the prisoner guilty after an extraordinary
summing-up by Mr. Commissioner Kerr. She was white to the lips and
shaking with fear when she stood up to receive sentence of five years'
penal servitude, and she could not leave the dock without the aid of
the wardresses. The last the packed court saw of the ugly old hag was a
deathly white face and a pair of black eyes gleaming unnaturally.
She served her time, and soon after her release, with amazing
impudence, started business again as a "beauty specialist." Undeterred
by previous experience, she sought for another victim of the Borradaile
type, and, finding one, swindled her with cynical effrontery until the
dupe turned against her. Then followed another trial for obtaining
money and jewels by false pretences, and again the sentence was five
years' penal servitude. Madame Rachel was convicted on April 11th,
1878, and she died in prison.