PUNCH,
OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

Vol. 102.

June 25, 1892.

"VERSAILLES" IN LEICESTER SQUARE.

(Or, the New Ballet at the Empire, as it appears through Mr. Punch's Pince-nez.)

TABLEAU I.—The Park at Versailles. "Gardeners," according to the "Argument" supplied with programmes, "are seen busily preparing for the arrival of King Louis the Fourteenth and his Court." If tickling the gravel gently with brooms, and depositing one petal a-piece in large baskets is "busily preparing," they are. The Gardeners, feeling that they have done a very fair afternoon's work, dance a farandole in sabots, after which Ladies and Cavaliers arrive and prepare to dance too; the Cavaliers select their partners by chasing them on tiptoe, the Ladies run backwards, and coyly slap their favourites' faces with bouquets. Here, according to Argument, "refreshments are served by Pages." Don't see any; these particular Pages seem to have been cut. Dance follows: the Vicomte Raoul de Bragelonne arrives, but stands apart, taking no part in the dance, and looking melancholy. Fancy he is wishing he had learnt dancing in his boyhood, or else waiting for the refreshments to be served. On referring to Argument, however, discover that "his mind is occupied by thoughts of Louise de Lavallière, who was betrothed to him in her childhood." Stupid not to see this for oneself. So obvious. Enter Louise. Think Raoul informs her in pantomime that one of the bows on her dress has "come undone;" she rewards him for this act of politeness by taking the bow off and pinning it on his breast. Raoul not satisfied, pleads for another, to put on his hat. Louise refuses, can't ruin her new frock like that for him. Find I'm wrong again. Argument says, "he implores her to fulfil the wish of his own and their parents' hearts by naming the nuptial day. Louise is confused, and bids him wait." He retires brokenhearted, in search of the refreshments, and the Cavaliers, with whom a very little dancing on gravel and a warm afternoon goes a long way, retire with him. The ladies, left alone, "now freely express their opinions on the merits of their late companions," which seems natural enough. Louise dissents; doesn't see anything particularly rude in their conduct, "Cavaliers are like that—will rush off for refreshments alone after every dance and leave their partners." At least, that's how I understood her. Missed the point again. Argument informs me she has been answering, "abruptly that the Sun (meaning the King) absorbs her whole soul, and that she has no thoughts to bestow on mere planets." She said all that in a shake of the head and two shrugs, so "abruptly" is quite the right word. Other ladies annoyed with her, and show it by walking past and waggling their fingers in her face, which appears to depress Louise considerably. Then they go out, after the Cavaliers, or the refreshments. Meanwhile Louis the Fourteenth has entered at the back and overheard all. He knows what the shake and shrugs meant, and smiles and nods knowingly to himself. "Oh, I am an irresistible Monarch, I am!" he seems to be saying. "I'll follow this up." So he struts down with a fixed smile on his face, like the impudent young dog he is, and pats his chest passionately at her. Louise startled. "Don't go away," says Louis in pantomime. "I say, there's an arbour in that shrubbery,—let's go and sit in it—do!" Louise undecided; tries to excuse herself. "Earwiggy? not a bit of it!" Louis assures her (he wouldn't be so confident about it if he had seen his Gardeners at work); "come along!" Louise still timid; suggests spiders. Louis vows that no spider shall harm her while he lives to protect her, and draws her gently towards the shrubbery; he does this several times, but on each occasion her dread of insects returns, and she recoils shrinking. The King puts his arms round her to give her courage, and at this instant, Raoul de Bragelonne returns, sees the back of someone embracing the maiden who was betrothed to him in childhood, draws his sword—and recognises his Sovereign. "Whew!" his expression says plainly enough. "Now I have put my foot in it nicely!" He takes off his hat and apologises profusely; but Louis is indignant. What's the use of being a Roi Soleil if you can't ask a lady of your Court to sit in an arbour without being interrupted like this? He swells visibly, and intimates that he will pay Raoul out for this in various highly unpleasant ways. Louise kneels to him for pardon. Louis subsides gradually, but still shows the whites of his eyes; finally he tells Raoul to be off. Raoul is submissive—only wants to know where he's to go to. Louis points to Heaven, evidently regal politeness forbids him to indicate any other place. Raoul goes off perplexed, and no wonder. Then, as the Argument explains, "a trumpet-call is heard," and Louise "bewildered," perhaps because it is the signal to go and dress for dinner, escapes to the palace; and Louis, feeling that the arbour is only a question of time, follows. Then Musketeers come off duty and get up an assault-at-arms, until their careful captain, afraid that they will hurt themselves with those nasty swords, orders them to stop, and the First Tableau is over.

"He swells visibly."

TABLEAU II.—Rich hangings have fallen close to the footlights, to represent an "Ante-room in the Palace." Attendants bring on two dressing-tables. Enter the two principal danseuses, who are about to dress for the Grand Ballet, when Lulli, the Composer, and Prévot, the Maître de dance du Roi, come in and very inconsiderately propose a rehearsal, which of course must be an undress rehearsal—then and there. This not unnaturally puts both the ladies out of temper; they object to the ballet-skirts supplied by the Management as skimpy, and one of them throws up her part, which almost reduces Lulli to tears. The other undertakes it at a moment's notice, whereupon the first lady tries to scratch her eyes out, and then has a fit of hysterics. Both ladies have hysterics. A bell rings and, suddenly remembering that a Royal Ante-room is rather a public place to dress in, they catch up the ballet-skirts and flee, Attendants remove the dressing-tables. Tableau over. Plot where it was.

TABLEAU III.—Grand Reception Room in the Palace. Enter the Queen, sulky, because Louis has taken all the Pages, and only left her a couple of Chamberlains. Enter Louis, more impudent than ever. They take their places on a daïs; the hangings at head of a flight of steps behind are withdrawn, and the first "Grand Ballet Divertissement" begins. Louis frankly bored, knowing there's another to come after that. Ballet charming, but he doesn't deign to glance at it, gives all his attention to a stuffed lamb on the top of the steps. Bevy after bevy of maidens disclosed behind hangings, each more bewitching and gorgeously attired than the last—but they don't interest Louis,—or else the presence of the Queen restrains him. Instructive to note the partiality of the Corps de Ballet. When Signorina DE SORTIS dances, they are so overcome that they lean backwards with outstretched arms in a sort of semi-swoon of delight. But the other lady may prance and whirl and run about on