The Gay Victorians

Waikato Times, Volume 107, Issue 17994, 12 April 1930, Page 13 (Supplement)

The Gay Victorians

(John o’ London.)

IT has become the fashion to depict the Victorian age as a d.ab and joyless period, a period in which Puritanism held sway and in every quarter inGense was offered before the shrine of the Great God Propriety. Those who hold this view, however, must either have short memories or else be woefully ignorant of the actual facts. Our Victorian ancestors knew how to get as much enjoyment (if not, indeed, more) out of life as their descendants and critics do, and if any reader doubts the truth of this statement, he could scarcely do better than consult the pages of “The Gay Victorians,” by Ralph Nevill. Rose-coloured Spectacles. Mr Nevill—laudator temporis acti—is, perhaps, inclined to sentimentalise a little over those fast-fading times, and no doubt he views the ’seventies and ’eighties of the last century through rose-coloured spectacles. Not. everyone will agree with him that “London has undoubtedly lost its joie de vivre,” and there were certain features of the period which he eulogises whose disappearance we may contemplate without regret. Still, he has contrived to make out a very good case for the “gay Victorians,” and his vigorous onslaught on the neo-Geor-gian cranks and faddists will, I am inclined to think, earn him no little support. , Queen Victoria’s Footman. It is peculiarly appropriate that in a book dealing with the Victorian age something should be said of the Queen who gave to that age its name. Mr Nevill’s references to Queen Victoria are illuminating. “There was plenty of alcohol at the disposal of servants in the royal residences, and from time to time some of them could not resist taking too much. During a great party at Windsor, when several orowned heads were present, a footman serving coffee after dinner fell with the tray, and lying lifeless, had to be removed. He was, of course, sent away, and some days after tb Queen, having noticed his absence, was told of his fate. ‘The poor man,” said she, “has a wife and fa mi' ; I will not have him dismissed; take him back at once.’ And taken back he was.” Lily Langtry's Admirer. A reigning beauty of that period was the famous Lily Langtry, who afterwards became Lady de Rathe. The daughter of a former Dean of Jersey, she was popularly known as “The Jersey Lily,” and it was in that character that Millais painted her portrait. She was lionised by society and, though she lived to an advanced age, she was fortunate enough not to outlive her beauty: “Walking in Bond Street one day when over seventy, she found herself followed by a lounger who was obviously attracted by her looks. More amused than annoyed, she eventually slopped and asked him what he wanted. Upon this he said he would be delighted if she would con- i

Not a Drab and Joyless Period,

sent to come to tea, to which she agreed and went with him to an afternoon resort close by. Once there, Lady de Bathe informed her admirer who she was. The latter was quite dumbfounded, to her great amusement. . .’’ A Humble Beginning. One of the most interesting chapters in 'Mr Nevill’s book is devoted to “Restaurants and Clubs.” Those were the great days of Romano’s. This restaurant, as 'Mr Nevill justly observes, has witnessed many lively scenes, “notably the one when several vivacious young officers dropped a number of open umbrellas from the gallery on to those supping below. One or two of the latter, resenting this descent of parachutes, tried to give the officers a lesson when they came downstairs, but the young men, being more handy wdth their fists than had been expected, most of their assailants bit the dust.” The place had a rather humble beginning, the original Romano being an ex-waiter at the Cafe Royal, “who started his business with three bottle of champagne obtained on credit from three different firms”: —“Civil and amusing, he appreciated the start which the staff of the Sporting Times had given him and made a point of letting customers run long accounts, which in early days were chalked up for weeks on end, for which reason, when a fire took place, certain old habitues turned up and directed the firemen to let their hose play upon a particular spot where they knew the slate with their accounts was kept." The Other Side of the Picture. It is an attractive company of peers and politicians, boxers and gamblers, leading ladies and stars of the music-hall to whom Mr Nevill introduces us. The w r orld went very well then—for the leisured classes at any rate. The shadc*v of "Dora” had not begun to darken London, and for those who had money to spend there were plenty of ways of spending it. As for the rest—well, there is another side to the picture, and Mr Nevill does not hesitate to draw attention to it. A visit to the East End of London in the eighteen-seventies might have provoked the reflection that the gay Victorians were perhaps too much immersed in their own gaiety to be aware of the misery of their less fortunate neighbours: “The Ratcliff Highway, now St. George’s Street East, alongside the Docks, was a place where crime stalked unmolested, and to thread its 'deadly length was a foolhardy act that 'might quail the stoutest heart. Every square yard was occupied by motley groups; drunken sailors of every nationality, in long sea-boots, and deadly knives at every girdle; drunken women with bloated races, caressing their unsavoury admirers, and here and ther<j, constables in pairs by way of moral effect, but powerless—as hey well knew —if outrage and free fights commenced in real earnest.”