VICTORIAN DAYS

Greymouth Evening Star, 27 June 1932, Page 7

VICTORIAN DAYS

MODES AND MANNERS Those who imagine that the Victorians led dreary, uninteresting lives should read Mr. Mark Perugini’s survey of the manners and modes of the last century (says 'John o’ Londons Weekly’). They will find out how Mistaken they are. The Victorians knew how to enjoy themselves-right enough! Have a look at Cremorne, for instance. The grounds Covered some twelve acres, spreading out from King’s road towards the river. Balloon ascents were one of the features of the day’s entertainments, and were made the more exciting by daring performances by acrobats on trapezes 1 slung from ,the car of the balloon. ... As an austere but shrewd critic of the later ’fifties remarked: ‘Places are what we make them. I fear there are many blackguards at Cremorne. . . . and yet what a place it is for fun! How jolly are all you meet. How innocent are all the amusements —the ascent of the balloon; the dancing; the equestrian performances; the comic songs; the illuminations; the fireworks; the promenade on the grass lawn or in the gas-lit paths. \ . the scene is almost a fairy one.’ ” Unfortunately, Cremorne’ ( s amusement became less and less innocent. It lost its license and was closed in 1877 —and the gay Victorians lost their playground until later Earl’s Court and the White City were provided for them. In the days of Cremorne the neighbourhood of the Haymarket was the centre of London’s night life. This is how it struck an observer in the late ’fifties: —

“At the top of Haymarket we find the street from Leicester square to Piccadilly always full of traffic, and just opposite are the oyster shops and Turkish divans and cafes. . . . But let us knock at this door; the glare of gas indicates that there is something going on ... We pay for admission and, entering a narrow passage, find ourselves in a large saloon, with a balcony all round. On the ground floor, of course, there is dancing and at the end is a bar where drink is being rapidly supplied. Up in the balcony are young . fellows sitting with gaily-dressed women drinking sherrycobblers and smoking cigars. . . There was often something “going on,” it seems. Brhwls and scenes were not uncommon. Innocent ;visitors to London might have the misfortune to meet the “Kangaroo/’ a notorious mulatto bully, who had the pleasant habit of interrupting people at a meal, taking what took his fancy in the way of food and drink, and then “bashing” any one who expostulated. As the “Pic” was one of his more favoured haunts —others being the old Pavilion, Alhambra, and Cremorne—rows there were not infrequent, until a few thrashings from young “swells” of the day reduced him to seeing the advisability of better manners. There, were plenty of amusements for the quieter Victorians, too. “Do you rink?” was a question heard everywhere in the ’eighties and ’nineties, and Mr. Perugini recalls George du Maurier’s delightful story of an elegant youth asking a prim young lady:—

“Do you evah wink, Miss Evangeline?” “Do I ever what, Mr. Smythe?” “Wink?” “What do you mean, sir?” “Well, skate, if you pwefer the expwession?” Dancing was tremendously popular. From the ’forties onward the polka was a special favourite—possibly because it gave good opportunities for “tricks.” Discussing the “several classes of polka dancers” a contemporary writer records: — 1 “There are the phlegmatic, the excited, and the out-of-time. There are also the mathematical, the confidential and those who go the pace. These last contrive to get a fair head to look over their right shoulder, so that the scente'd curls are in delightful approximation to their own features; and thus, with the arm extended straight out from the body., like that of a fingerpost, off they go, preferring the backstep to every other; and twisting, zigzagging, and going ahead in a manner wonderful to behold.” WHEN THE QUEEN DANCED But who could say that anything was wrong with.dancing if the Queen herself actually danced at the age of seventy-one? It was in 1890 that she wrote, in a letter: —

“After dinner . . . in the drawing room we pushed the furniture ( back and had a nice little impromptu dance Curtis’s Band being so entrainment. We had a quadrille in which S I danced with Eddy (Duke of Clarence). It did quite well; then followed some waltzes and polkas.” And, of course, in the late ’seventies, ’eighties, and early ’nineties the cult of aestheticism flourished —more amusing than any sport or pastime! One usually thinks of Oscar Wilde in connection with aestheticism, but as Mr. Perugini says,

“Wilde did not create the craze, but as editor of a woman’s journal and a ‘coming’ poet, took advantage of the position to advance his own, and was soon sought after as lecturer on ‘aesthetics,’ and as a drawing room entertainer whose critical dicta took the form of facile epigram. One recalls the characteristic story of his afternoon call on a lady who, as he entered her room, exclaimed: "Oh, Mr. Wilde, please, please advise me! How shall I arrange these Japanese fans?’ And his’ ready reply: ‘But why arrange them? Why not let them occur?’” Mr. Perugini is not far wrong., when he says, speaking of Wilde’s downfall, that he had not “arranged” his experiences! he let them “occur.” But aestheticism was really killed by a more powerful craze that sprang up —athleticism.

“Getting about,” was not nearly as easy as it is to-day. The coming of the railways revolutionised long-dis-tance travel, but for short journeys one had to rely on the old cabs and buses. Bus fares, says Mr. Perugini were not cheap as they are to-day, according to short stages, but were usually fourpence for part of the distance or sixpence or even a shilling “all the way.” . . One middle-aged Victorian 1 knew used to recount that as a youthful and unpaid clerk in the city, living in the neighbourhood of Sloane Square, ho was allowed by his Spartan father exactly one shilling a day for all bis expenses, including the sixpenny bus fare, so that he usually had to walk to the Bank if he wanted a sixpenny lunch and could thus spend the remaining sixpence on the homeward journey at night.

Like some of their modern prototypes the horse-bus drivers were expert at badinage, and were always ready to “take a rise” out of their rivals. Mr. Perugini tells us that a

friend of his, seated on the box-seat on one occasion going down Piccadilly -suddenly noticed the driver making queer motions with his whip towards the drivei’ of an oncoming bus, who became infuriated, /while the whipwielder chuckled. “What’s the joke?” asked my mystified friend. "Why, sir. when T sees Bill a-comin’ 1 just loops me whip like that, see?” “But why is he so angry?” “’Ow, guvnor, ’e’s got no sense o’ humour. ’ls fawther was ’anged!”

THE SIN OF SMOKING The habit of grew enormously in the last century. But in the earlier days of Queen Victoria’s reign one did not smoke in Rotten Row or Bond street, or in a drawing room, or, even, as a rule, in one’s bedroom; and in clubs, as late as 1850, the habit of smoking was looked on askance, and strictly confined to the “smoking room” —when there was one. It was not that the habit was considered actually immoral, but worse —namely, uncleanly. . . . and for a woman to pollute her mouth, and curtains, with the odour of tobacco was unthinkable.

There were, indeed, many things that were “not done” for a woman. Here are some of the activities of the Victorian young lady: — The vast majority of girls remained at home, did much needlework, plain and fancy; knitted and made crochet mats on which to place wax flowers modelled by themselves. . . Some made seaweed pictures, or did a little “diaphane” work ... or they practised Jullien’s quadrilles or Banner’s waltzes, or 'The Maiden’s Prayer’ on the harp or pianoforte, or 'The Battle of Prague’ on the guitar. Books were little read, except when had from the lending library, perhaps a • threevolume novel, some sugary but safe romance: oV if the reader were inclined to the “dashing” and the “fast,” a novel by “Ouida,” read more or less surreptitiously . However, after boating, cycling, and tennis had come to stay at the* close of the century, “there was little or nothing in any field of activity that an English'girl would not dare or could not do.” Mr. Perugini has a fine subject and has produced a hook that is as lengthy and varied as a. Victorian dinner—though not half so indigestible! It is. a museum of all things Victorian. And for illustrations there are fifty jokes from ‘Punch’ that perennial mirror of fashions and fcfibles.