A New Sensation Part 4

But it was easy to see that the marvellous exhibition of skill was not what had drawn the immense audience. It was the risque undressing which had done that. So far as I can learn, she had gone several paces beyond anything in this line hitherto permitted in any reputable American theatre.

For myself I am glad I saw it, though I would not care to see it again.

I was like the young lady who consented after some demur to take a ride on a very steep toboggan slide. "I wouldn't have missed it for a thousand dollars!" she exclaimed to her escort. "Let us try again," he suggested. "Not for a million!" she responded, with equal fervor.

If such things are to be allowed in metropolitan theatres, I want to "size up," by that means, the taste of what are called the respectable men and women of my time. But I certainly felt a dizziness in the brain when that corset came off in the presence of a thousand individuals who seemed to represent a fairly average respectability of our women.

I saw young girls of seventeen or eighteen there, middle-aged matrons and several elderly ladies, and I did not detect in a single face the agitation I knew showed in my own. Perhaps I may ascribe my extra nervousness to the neurasthenia from which I had so recently recovered.

While at this point I hope I may be pardoned a word in reference to the growing taste among our theatrical audiences for what was once called indecent exposure. Our elders relate that New York nearly had a fit when, in the late sixties, the first "Black Crook" company opened its doors at Niblo's. To see women in flesh-colored tights reaching to the hips was so awful that only eye-witnesses would believe it possible, and to make sure it actually occurred, everybody had to go. Then came the "British Blondes," who wore longer tights, and filled them in a more satisfactory manner than those who had preceded. Soldene followed, with a new and startling sensation, in Sara, the skirt dancer, who pulled her underclothing up to her forehead, to the delight and scandal of the bald-headed row--just as a hundred others do now without attracting special attention.

The demand kept ahead of the supply of indelicacy. Dancers vied with each other in so garbing their lower limbs as to give the impression that they were partially nude, and Mrs. Grundy merely bought spectacles of increased power and engaged a front seat.

Then came the "Living Picture" craze. As Clement Scott said in his London paper, "We are told that these women are covered with a tightly fitting, skin-like gauze, but this is a matter of information and belief and not of ocular demonstration." The nymph at the fountain stood night after night, like her marble prototype, with the water running down her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and dropping from the points thereof. She refused to follow Beaumont and Fletcher's advice, to--

"Hide, oh, hide those hills of snow That thy frozen bosom bears, On whose tops the pinks that grow Are of those that April wears."

Venus rose from the sea, with all the appearance of absolute nudity. The glorious curves of the tempter of Tannhauser were revealed in their fullness to cultured audiences. The North Star came down that men might admire her shapeliness, while the three Graces proved Byron's words:--

"There is more beauty in the ripe and real Than all the nonsense of their stone ideal."

And then a daring manager went all this one better. He posed his women as bronze figures, with nothing between them and the gaze of the audience but bronze powder. The sensation lasted but a short time, spectators not caring for mulatoes when there were white forms to be seen at the same price. Next came the "Wedding Night," which I saw in Paris, and which still seems to me comparatively sweet and innocent--and it was suppressed, perhaps for that very reason. And now we have "Charmion"--meat for strong minds, but not, I fear, for the average young man.

What will come next? I would not dare predict, but really within ten years we may expect anything. "The leaves are falling--even the fig leaves," says George Meredith. They have fallen long ago from most of the male statues in European galleries, and there at least I am in accord with the sculptors. Perfect nudity never stirred the beast in any sane man. Why should we not have afternoon or evening receptions by professional models in their native undress? It would be better for morality than the ingenious t.i.tillation of the senses induced by your Edwinas and your Charmions!

Confound Charmion, any way! She spoiled a night for me that I needed for refres.h.i.+ng sleep. In my brief s.n.a.t.c.hes of slumber I was with those silly fellows in the front rows, clutching wildly in the air for the garters she flung from her perch above our heads.

CHAPTER IV.

YOU ARE A HOPELESS SCAMP.

Without even waiting for letters at the Herald office, in answer to my advertis.e.m.e.nt, I went on Sat.u.r.day morning to Cook & Son's, on Broadway, and engaged two staterooms on the steams.h.i.+p "Madiana," of the Quebec SS.

Company's line, to sail January 12. I found that I could secure both rooms, and, if it proved that I needed but one, the amount of pa.s.sage money paid in advance--one hundred dollars--could be applied to mine alone. This pleased the remnant of Scotch blood left in my veins, for my relations have always said I "favored" my mother's side of the family, and she was a native of France. Though careless enough with money, I did not wish to pay for a stateroom that n.o.body would occupy, and there was a possibility that I would go alone, after all. The clerk, an affable fellow, promised to hold the extra room until the 5th of January, and to write me when it became necessary to put up the balance of the price or surrender the rights I had in it. I thought, on the whole, it was a sensible business transaction.

"What name shall I register for the lady's room?" he asked, taking up a pen.

"I am uncertain," I said, hesitating. "There are several of the family, and I don't know which it will be finally."

"I will call it 'Miss Camran,' then," he said.

There seemed no objection to this, and he wrote the name in his book.

Arming myself with a handful of literature about the Islands, that he gave me, and which contained little information I was not already possessed of, I went back to my rooms and took a look at my wardrobe. I decided that I should want one or two new suits, of the very coolest texture, besides thin underclothing, some outing s.h.i.+rts, a couple of pairs of light shoes, etc. On Monday I began a search for these things, and found them with more difficulty than I antic.i.p.ated. In midwinter few New York tradesmen are able to furnish thin clothing with celerity, and my time was growing short. I visited half a dozen shops before I could get fitted with shoes of the right weight, for instance. There were long hunts for underflannels and hose. The tailors offered me anything but thin weights, until I persisted and would not be put off, and then I had to select the goods by sample. With some extra light pajamas, a gauzy bathrobe, a lot of new collars and cuffs, and an extra dozen of colored bosom s.h.i.+rts, I thought myself at last nearly ready. I urged upon each dealer the necessity of sending his articles at the earliest possible moment, thinking it wisest to deceive him a little about the day I was to sail. The event proved this the only way I succeeded in getting them all delivered in season.

It was with more excitement than was good for me that I took a hansom on Tuesday morning, at an early hour, and drove to the up-town office of the Herald. I expected a number of answers to my advertis.e.m.e.nt and wanted to take them home as expeditiously as possible. Nor was I disappointed. The clerk handed me out not less than a hundred and fifty envelopes, when I presented the card that had been given me, and he was kind enough to tie them in bundles at my request. Twenty minutes later I was in my sitting room, the door locked for fear of intrusion, and tearing open one after another with the hunger of curiosity.

The first five or six were not at all satisfactory. They contained little beside requests for "further particulars," and had a business-like air that did not suit my mood. Then came one that was interesting enough to be put in the reserve pile from which the final decision was to be made. Perhaps I may as well give it now in its entirety:

Dear Mr. 107--[that was the number the Herald had a.s.signed me]--Although your announcement does not state your s.e.x, I feel justified in a.s.suming that you are a Man. "Lady" Typewriter! Well, as far as I know I answer that description, and now for the situation. "To travel in the Tropics?" I certainly have no objection to doing that, provided--! You say the "duties are light." Certainly that sounds encouraging. What do they consist of--actual typewriting or keeping dull care from drawing wrinkles on your manly brow?

Typewriters are called upon to do such strange things in these days.

The individual whose bread I now earn seems to consider that he has a right (in consideration of twelve dollars per week) to kiss me whenever he takes a fancy, which is the reason why I am seeking another employer, who, if he has the same tastes, may have a more attractive mouth for the purpose. How long is your journey to last and what pay do you intend to offer?

I am twenty-six years of age, not specially ill looking, and have a good temper unless angered. I won't say much about my ability on the machine, for I presume that is a secondary consideration. Send your reply--if you think me worth it--to No. -- East Sixteenth Street, but don't call in person unless you wish to have an interview with a gouty uncle or a frightfully jealous cousin.

Ever Yours,

ALICE BRAZIER.

N.B. If you take me off with you, I shall let neither of them know where I have gone.

This was bright and breezy, at least. The next one that I laid aside was as follows:

Dear Sir:--I am a Southern girl, if one who has reached the age of 22 may so call herself. I have a good education and am refined in manner. I have no doubt I can fill all the requirements of the position you offer, and would be pleased to have you call, Wednesday afternoon, between two and four, at my lodgings, or on any other afternoon you may name. Please grant me at least an interview.

Very Truly,

MARJORIE MAY.

No. -- W. 45th Street.

I read all the others, to the last one; but these two had attracted my attention so thoroughly that the rest palled on my taste. Some were too plainly sent by the ordinary cla.s.s of immoral women, who had taken this manner of making an acquaintance. One stated that she had the finest form in New York, which she would be happy to exhibit for my approval, in all its chaste splendor. Another had "lost her job" in a big department store, and would "appreciate the true friends.h.i.+p of a man who could spare $6 or $8 a week." Another frankly owned herself to be a "gra.s.s widow," who on the whole preferred one "friend" to twenty and offered me the first chance to fill that permanent position. Three or four were apparently school-girls who were tired of the wholesome restraints of home and wanted to run away with any man who would pay their bills.

One declared herself to be 42 years of age, an expert typewriter, and warned me against taking a "giddy young thing" on my journey when one of her a.s.sured character could be obtained. She added that her reason for desiring a change was that her employer was a scandalous person, whose goings-on with a younger typewriter with whom she had to a.s.sociate were "awful." And she enclosed as a clincher an autograph letter from her pastor, recommending her to "any Christian gentleman" needing a reliable a.s.sistant.

Several were either married to men whose whereabouts were at present unknown or had been divorced. One admitted in a burst of frankness that she had "trusted a professed friend too far" and did not care what became of herself.

All of which was rather amusing in its way, but brought me no nearer to the goal of my desire--a bright, cheerful companion for the voyage I was about to undertake.

I examined the entire lot before I recollected the agreement I had made with Harvey Hume. Then I gathered up all the letters (except my two favorites)--for I did not mean to show these to any one--and started for his office in the middle of the afternoon. Harvey was in, of course; not that he had any clients or expected any, but because those were his office hours and he had nowhere else to go in particular. He was evidently glad to see me, especially when he espied my package, for he scented something to dispel his ennui.

We withdrew into his private office and he closed the door.

"Any prizes?" he asked, jocosely.

"You can decide for yourself," I answered. "They are entirely at your disposal."

"Humph!" he grunted, as he laid down the first one. "I wouldn't pay that girl's fare to Coney Island, judging by her capacity as a letter writer." Then he struck the communication from the forty-two-years-old damsel and gravely proceeded to show why she was the one I had best select. After awhile he asked leave to retain two or three, that he thought might be of use to him, and that I quite agreed were of none whatever to me. When he had read over about half of the entire number, he pushed the rest aside.

"Rot and rubbis.h.!.+" he exclaimed.

"That's what I call them," I answered.

"You've given up your plan?" he said, inquiringly.

"By no means. But there's nothing very appetizing in that trash."