Press Clippings for the week ending
Saturday, 7 September 2002

A random selection of cuttings
from newspapers and magazines

* * * * * * * *

An English version of Offenbach’s
The Grand Duchess, London, 1871

The Philharmonic, Islington Green.
‘Offenbach, I read, is proscribed at the Paris theatres, the high-pressure citizens being just now in a state of mind to cry out upon a sausage if it be a German. Simultaneously, the glorious producer of the champagne of harmony breaks out again in London at the new Philharmonic Theatre, Islington, and the northern wilds resound with the strains of the Grand Duchess. Mr. Vandervell has squeezed her highness into one act, and by a judicious use of those powerful agencies of modern authorship - scissors and paste - given her a neat, compact figure. Miss [Emily] Soldene is not a [Hortense] Schneider or a Julia Mathews, but she is a capable singer and a capital actress, and Mr. [Charles] Morton might have looked a long way to find a better Grand Duchess. On the production of the opera her success was complete. I have often seen instances of English artists sailing under foreign colours in the matter of cognomination, but never came across an instance of a foreign artist sailing under colours in England, till I found the almost unintelligible foreign gentleman who plays Fritz described on the bill as Mr. F. Bury. The foreign gentleman is a success as far as voice and acting go, but he will have to take a few more lessons in English to qualify himself for a society encouraging native talent. I thought that, with the Alhambra affair, London saw the last of the Can-can and its indecencies, but the disgraceful dance breaks out again in the Grand Duchess, the notorious Colonna troupe being the performers. They are very fittingly but unintentionally introduced as "companions of the Cross of Brass," and brass enough they have by jingo! - but what can Mr. Morton be about? Does he expect to do any good in pious Islington which such elements? I was quite grieved to see so admirable a piece as the Philharmonic Grand Duchess utterly blemished by four brazen women vulgarly kicking up their heels in it.’
(The Hornet, Hornsey, London, Wednesday, 15 March 1871, p.304a)

The above reference to ‘the Alhambra affair’ is to a problem at the music hall of that name in Leicester Square. It recalls the Colonna Troupe’s spirited performance of the cancan there during 1870 which persuaded the Middlesex Magistrates not to renew the Alhambra’s dancing license. The trouble flared when two policemen (representing an authority bent on curbing unacceptable public behaviour in the area, which had more to do with Leicester Square’s reputation as a racy nightspot than with management of the music hall itself) witnessed one of the troupe’s dancers, Sara Wright (known as Mlle. Sara), throw up her leg above the level of her shoulders while facing the audience. An engraving of the Colonna Troupe that was published in The Days’ Doings, a contemporary London newspaper, exacerbated the situation. The following is a recent comment on what became an infamous incident:

‘When the Colonna troupe of four women danced the cancan at the Alhambra in 1870, the shock was… substantial and the erotic value the greatest, for two of the troupe dressed as women and two as men [as was then usual in such displays of the dance on both sides of the English Channel]. In keeping with the cancan’s reputed origin in the quadrille, the Colonna troupe paired two sets of dancers in short ballet skirts with two women in knickers and sailor blouses. While the "women" wore tights [called ‘fleshings’] that were coloured for invisibility, the "men" teased the audience by wearing knickers that were highly visible and currently the centre of controversy about women’s hygiene and modesty. The combination was extremely erotic… The cancan created licensing trouble for [London] music halls, so between 1870 and 1874 it was performed in theatres governed by the Lord Chamberlain… The Middlesex justices responsible for music halls dealt with the cancan by banishing it…’
(Tracy C. Davis, Actresses as Working Women, Routledge, London and New York, 1991, pp.116 and 117)

* * * * * * * *

The Colonna Troupe in trouble again, Liverpool, 1871

members of the Colonna Troupe


Members of The Colonna Troupe
(photo: Oldham & Cooper, Birmingham, circa 1871)

‘If every theatrical scandal-monger was properly punished, there would be a rare clear-out of some of our newspaper hangers-on. A lesson or two is sadly needed. But a commencement was made last week in the Liverpool police court, when Mr. John Collinson, the publisher of the Leader, a weekly paper of that town, was charged with having given circulation to a malicious libel on the Colonna Troupe of female dancers, now performing at the Theatre Royal, Liverpool. The libel was contained in an article which specially referred to the troupe, and has appeared in the previous week’s issue. It was expressed as follows:- "We have been told, on what seems unquestionable authority, that, while the doors of the theatre - in which ‘no drinking is allowed’ - are closed by midnight, the green-room remains open till four in the morning, and the Colonna girls stay there to drink and flirt with such gay young sparks as have unemptied purses." In support of the information, evidence was adduced to show that the statement was entirely untrue; and that, so far from going into the green-room, the members of the troupe did not have any communication with either the public or even the other professionals; but that directly after their performances they left the theatre. The magistrate (Mr. Raffles) having intimated his intention of sending the case for trial, the defence was not entered upon, though it was stated, on behalf of the defendant, that he had merely passed the article for publication, and was not aware of its libellous nature. Upon this statement and before the defendant was formally committed, a consultation took place between the parties, and it was agreed to compromise the case on the defendant promising to insert a full apology both in his own paper and in the Era, to give up the name of the actual writer of the article, and to pay the costs of the proceedings. A summons was afterwards granted against the writer, Mr. R.G. Orchard, of Rock Ferry. Mr. Orchard has put his foot in it. We wonder how he will explain his share of the matter. It is high time that an end was put to the wholesale system of injuring reputations by assertions having no tangible foundation save in the realms of imagination.’
(The Days’ Doings, London, Saturday, 21 October 1871, pp.198d and 199a)

* * * * * * * *

The beautiful Mrs Rousby, London, 1871

Mr and Mrs Rousby


Clara and Wybert Rousby
(photo: The London Stereoscopic & Photographic Co Ltd, London, circa 1870)

‘Great Mrs. Rousby! - great in the public voice - and little Mr. Rousby! - little, of course, by comparison with his charming spouse - represent (theatrically) the sun and the moon. Mrs. Rousby is effulgent, blazing out original light. Mr. Rousby simply borrows a little light from Mrs. Rousby. As they claim, in managerial language, to be "stars," I may say Mrs. Rousby is a fixed star, and Mr. Rousby one of those revolving opaque bodies that reflect the brightness of fixed stars. Mr. Rousby, too, is a revolver that won’t go off. His only success at present is [as Bertuccio] in The Fool’s Revenge [Queen’s Theatre, Long Acre, London, 19 December 1869], and people who have seen him in that and in ’Twixt Axe and Crown [same theatre, 22 January 1870], but particularly in the latter, say he plays the Fool remarkably well. [The dramatist] Mr. Tom Taylor, great at adaptation, found Mr. Rousby, but up to the present time has failed to adapt him to the stage. He is the hero of one-part, and a terrible disappointment. To use an old figure, in The Fool’s Revenge he went up like a rocket; in ’Twixt Axe and Crown came down very like a stick. On the other hand, Mrs. Rousby,

Fair, fair, with golden hair,

is all my fancy painted her, and something more. Mr. Tom Taylor has almost made up his mind that she is superior to Miss Kate Terry, but has reserved a definite opinion till Mr. [John] Oxenford [dramatist and critic] takes his holiday; I believe her to be a very pretty women, a very pretty woman indeed. I like her air - and her hair; I like her pose - and her photographs. She is clothed with grace - and white satin. She looks like an angel - and plays the devil with our hearts. She does not act quite so well as Mrs. [Scott] Siddons, but she is very beautiful. She may want fire, but then she has a splendid figure, and the votive warmth of all our loves. She has not a fault - hold hard, she has, though - she’s married!
(The Hornet, Hornsey, London, Wednesday, 29 March 1871, p.316a)

Clara Rousby


Clara Rousby
(photo: The London Stereoscopic & Photographic Co Ltd, London, circa 1870)

* * * * * * * *

Julia Mathews in Canada, 1876

‘TORONTO, February 7, 1876 - "The success which has attended Miss Julia Mathews and company during their sojourn in this city, notwithstanding numerous counter attractions and disagreeable weather, has been all and even more than was at first anticipated. The productions during the week just passed were Child of the Regiment and La Grande Duchesse, in each of which Miss Mathews performed the leading roles. Her Grand Duchess is in every particular what it has been pronounced to be, and, should this city ever attract her attention again crowded houses will undoubtedly be the order.’
(The Era, London, Sunday, 27 February 1876, p.5b)

* * * * * * * *

The Fiji Flutterers at the Alhambra, London, 1876

‘Something like a sensation is just now being created nightly at the Alhambra [London] by the doings of the "Fiji Flutterers" - the designation chosen by a troupe of grotesque dancers otherwise known as the Magronis, who appear in the second part of the extravaganza Don Juan. These gentlemen - for the four dancers are of the male sex - have already won high honours in Paris, to which gay capital they will very shortly return. We mention this as a hint to the lovers of fun and the admirers of the grotesque. Two of the "Flutterers" are attired as females, their dress and head-gear being indescribably comical. The remaining couple also present a most ludicrous appearance, the best testimony to the success of their respective toilets being the roar of merriment which greets them immediately on being presented to view. Their dancing, like their dress, absolutely defies description. When we have said that it is grotesque, and agile, and acrobatic, and wonderfully comical, we convey but a poor impression of its nature. Such a quadrille surely was never before thought of. There is one tall individual who cannot "set to partners" - we believe that is the language of the ball-room - without finding it absolutely necessary to kick the top of his head some score of times. There is another who declined to do the "ladies’ chain" - we hope we are duly correct in our terms - unless permitted at the same time to turn a few somersaults backwards. Another, who performs similar feats forward, displays equal agility and a cat-like propensity for coming upon his feet; while the fourth, not to be outdone, throws his limbs about in fashion which says much for their elasticity. All the saltatory antics in which the "Fiji Flutterers" indulge bear the charm of novelty; and, while simply irresistible in their appears to the risible faculties of the spectators, never approach anything likely to offend even the most fastidious. On the evening when we were present their efforts provoked uproarious laughter, the concluding "figure" of their quadrille having to be thrice given before the delighted onlookers would permit them to depart. The "Fiji Flutterers" ought to cause a "flutter" of excitement among London pleasure-seekers.’
(The Era, London, Sunday, 12 March 1876, p.10b)

* * * * * * * *

Anna Held at the Palace Theatre, London, 1896

Anna Held


Anna Held
(photo: Reutlinger, Paris, circa 1895)

Palace Theatre of Varieties.
‘Mlle. Anna Held, whose chic costume might serve as a guide to English serios [i.e. serio-comic singers], sang with a tremendous amount of go; her second attempt included mashing the ‘cello player, which was so quaintly done that those in front wanted more and further developments.’
(The Encore, Thursday, London, 23 July 1896, p.8a)

Return to home page

© John Culme, 2002