XVSEVERAL SOVEREIGNSIN the course of my travels about the world, east, west, north and south, over oceans and across continents, I have had the experience of seeing or of encountering many persons of distinction, including not a few sovereigns and members of royal households.It has seemed to me that it might be interesting to bring together at this point some of the most typical of the incidents that occur to me. Just as they come, drawn haphazard from memory, without order or sequence, and with no thought of literary composition, I am going to put them simply on paper, one by one.How I Failed to see Queen Victoria.One day at Nice some one came and asked me to dance before Queen Victoria. She had just arrived on the Riviera to pass the winter months, as she was accustomed to do every year.It may well be believed that I was flattered by such a request. I assented, naturally, and set myself to work making all my preparations for this important event.There was a knock at the door. A maid brought a telegram. It was signed by my manager, and was couched in the following words: “Take train this evening, to sail day after to-morrow; destination, New York.”I replied with a message pleading for a delay, for the purpose of dancing before Queen Victoria.I received simply the following laconic telegram:“Impossible. Leave at once. Time is money.”That’s why I did not dance before Queen Victoria.I stop the Queen of the Belgians in the Street.I was engaged for some performances at Spa. The evening of my first appearance the Queen and Princess Clementine were in the royal box. That was a gala evening, one on which the hall was resplendent with magnificent gowns and jewels.Everything went off perfectly.Next morning I went for a walk with my mother. We were crossing the causeway when a carriage, drawn by two spirited horses driven by a middle-aged woman, bore down upon us.Frightened on account of my mother, I threw up my arms in front of the carriage, which stopped.The lady allowed us to pass and, while thanking her, I remarked to myself that a woman ought not to drive such lively horses.I had forgotten the incident when, shortlyafter my return to the hotel, I saw the same carriage go by.Two gentlemen were talking on the landing near us.“See. There is the Queen,” said one of them.It was the Queen whom I had stopped!Princely Simplicity.At the Hague I was asked to give a performance before the Grand Duke and Duchess of Mecklenburg, Princess Victoria of Schaumburg-Lippe and their retinue.The hall was well filled. I had the Philharmonic Society’s orchestra.This was a gala evening, and in every way a very successful one for me.Next day on coming down from my room I encountered on the stairway of the hotel a lady with a very sweet expression, who asked me:“You are Miss Loie Fuller? Your dances interest me greatly. My husband has gone out on the beach. Wouldn’t you like to come and talk to him about your lighting effects. I am sure that would prove very interesting to him.”I gladly acquiesced and followed her.I was delighted to talk to this woman and her husband, who proved to be a most delightful man. I explained to them all my schemes of lighting and my dances. I then took my leave and joined my mother, who was waiting for me.When I returned to the hotel the proprietor came to me and said:“You met with great success yesterday, Miss Fuller, and with even greater this morning.”“This morning?”“Yes. Do you know who the gentleman is with whom you have just been talking?”“No. Who is he?”“The Grand Duke of Mecklenburg.”This same day I boarded a street car.On the car several people appeared to know me. One lady came and sat beside me and began to talk.When we arrived at our destination I asked her if she would not tell me her name.“Victoria de Schaumburg-Lippe.”One evening when I was dancing at the Hague the princess was in the hall with Major Winslow and others of her retinue. She sent for me, and asked me to show her one of my robes.I brought her the robe which I put on for the butterfly dance.She took the stuff in her hand and said:“The robe is really wonderful, but it is after all only what you do that counts.”I remember that she asked me to sign a photograph for her. And when I returned to the hotel the manager of the Kurhaus handed to me an exceedingly pretty watch, on the cover of which were engraved these words:“In memory of the performance given for Princess Victoria.”The Curiosity of the Archduchesses of Austria.I was once at the Swedish gymnasium at Carlsbad, where machines with electrical vibrations shock you from head to foot. I was just about to dress myself when one of the women of the place came to me, and said:“Won’t you please return to the hall, and pretend to take the electric treatment again in order that the archduchesses, who are there, with a whole crowd of court ladies, may see you?”I replied: “Tell the archduchesses that they can see me this evening at the theatre.”The poor woman then declared to me that she had been forbidden to mention their Royal Highnesses, and that they had bidden her get me back into the hall on some pretext or other.She was so grieved at not having succeeded that I returned to the machines, and had my back massaged, in order that the noble company might look at me at their ease, as they would survey an interesting animal.They looked at me, all of them, smiling, and while they viewed me I never turned my eyes away from them.The odd thing was that they did not know that I knew them. I was, therefore, as muchamused by them, and without their perceiving it, as they were amused by me.How I was not decorated with the Order of the Lion and the Sun of Persia.During one of the visits that the Shah of Persia pays to Paris, the Marquis and Marquise d’Oyley, who were great friends of the Sovereign and who were very fond of my dancing, brought the Shah to one of my performances at Marigny.After my appearance on the stage the Marquis and Marquise, accompanied by some dignitaries of the sovereign’s retinue, came to my dressing-room and brought me a Persian flag, which they begged me to use in one of my dances.What could I do with that heavy flag? In vain I racked my brain. I could not discover any way. I could not refuse, and I was unable on the other hand to convince them that it was impossible to try anything so impromptu without running the risk of a failure.More and more perplexed I made my entrance for the last dance. I had the great flag in my arms. I tried to wave it gracefully, but I did not succeed. I tried to strike a noble attitude, still holding the flag. Again I failed. It was a woollen banner and would not float. Finally I stood stock still, holding the staff upright, in as imposing an attitude as possible. Then I bowed until the curtain fell.My friends were surprised to observe that mylast dance had displeased his Majesty. The Shah finally told them that he did not see why the Persian flag had been desecrated. No one dared to tell him that the idea had not come from me, but from persons of his retinue, or to inform him how I had received the flag.My friends, the d’Oyleys, consoled me by saying that my pose had been very noble and that even the flag, falling around me in heavy folds, had produced a very striking effect.The Shah decorates everybody who has attracted his attention; that is a habit he has acquired. For my part, thanks to the brilliant idea of the dignitaries from the court of Teheran, I have never seen either the tail of the Lion or a ray of the Sun peculiar to Persian decoration.I have been told on other authority that on this evening the Shah’s first thought was of a bomb which, so it had been announced, was to be thrown at him in the hall. He was thinking of this rather than of my person, my dances or even of the Persian flag I “profaned.”My Adventure with a Negro King.At the Colonial exposition in Marseilles in 1907 I was with some friends in the pavilion of one of the exhibitors when a magnificent negro, six feet high, who looked like some prince from the Thousand and One Nights, came upon the terrace where we sat. He was accompanied by a large retinue.The other negroes were dressed the same as he, but none of them had his magnificent presence.Some French officials accompanied the visitors, who, naturally, created a tremendous effect with their costumes, which were simple but exquisitely finished. When they came near I exclaimed:“He might be called a king out of a fairy tale!”They passed before us and took their places in the reception hall.The proprietor presently came to our group, and asked us if we would not like to assist him in receiving the King of Djoloff in Senegal.“He is visiting the Exposition as a private citizen,” he added. “If you would like to make his acquaintance come and I will present you.”I was charmed.When I was in the presence of the king, I said quietly to my friends, in a distinct voice and in French:“What a handsome savage; I wonder if they are all built on this model in Africa.”I was presented to the king. He extended his hand, and, to my consternation, I heard him say in very good French:“I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss Fuller. I have applauded you frequently. My education was gained in Paris.”I could not repress an exclamation.“Good heavens! Then you heard what I said, and you never raised an eyelash!”“No, since you did not suppose that I understood you.”I looked at him for a minute or two to find out whether he had been irritated or not. He smiled diplomatically and I felt that we should be friends.I was dancing at Marseilles at that time. He came to the theatre to see me after the performance.“What can we do that will give you pleasure in exchange for the great satisfaction that your dances have just brought us?” he asked me.I thought the matter over a minute.“I should like it very much if I might be present at one of your religious ceremonies.”The black chief promised to come to my hotel, and to give me an idea of the ritualistic practices of his country.The next day, accordingly, I made preparations for a tea-party in the hotel garden. Rugs were spread on the grass and everything was in readiness to receive the monarch.“When will the ceremony begin?” I asked the king as soon as he had arrived.“We shall say our prayer at six o’clock, just at sunset.”As night came on I observed that the king and his followers began to survey the sky in every direction, and I wondered why. Noting my wonderment, the king told me that they wereendeavouring to get their bearings in order to be certain of the point toward which the sun was tending at the end of his journey.“We are required,” he said, “always to pray with our faces toward the setting sun.”He gave the order to begin the ceremony then and there. I wish I could describe it as perfectly as I saw it.The unity of the motions of all these men was simply wonderful. All together they said the same brief prayer, and with mechanical precision made the same movement, which, from the point of view of devotion, seemed to have similar importance to the words of their ritual. The large white cloaks, spread over long blue blouses, waved round their bodies. The men prostrated themselves, touched the ground with their foreheads and then raised themselves together. The rhythm and precision were most impressive. It was really very, very beautiful.After the prayers the king told me that his father had been dethroned and then exiled from Senegal by the French Government. As for himself, in his turn he had been nominated chief of his tribe, for in reality there was no longer a king. He was a French subject, and in his country, which was tributory to France, he was no more than chief of his clan.But the majesty remained, nevertheless, magnificently expressed in his features.While we were conversing I asked permission to put some indiscreet questions. After he had consented, all the while smiling his peculiarly winning smile, I asked him if he was married?He replied in the affirmative. He had four wives. As I appeared to be surprised to note that he travelled without them, especially in a country where there are so many pretty women, he, in his turn, looked at me for some time, and replied:“From the point of view of my wives a white woman has neither charm nor beauty.”This surprised me greatly, and I asked him whether that was because they had never seen any white women.“Oh,” he replied, “in any case they would not be jealous of a white woman. It seems to them absolutely impossible that a pale-faced woman can play any part in my life.”“And you? Are you so sure of that? If a white woman with long blonde hair should suddenly appear in your country, among your black women, would she not be taken for an angel?”“Oh, no. She would be taken for a devil. Angels are black in our Paradise.”This, I must confess, opened new vistas in the domain of religion. It had never before appeared so clear to me that men make their gods in their own image, rather than that the gods make men after theirs.How the Empress of China Degraded a Mandarin on my Account.I was dancing in New York when several of Li Hung Chang’s followers came to the theatre. Some friends presented me to the American military attaché, Mr. Church, who accompanied the Viceroy.Thanks to Mr. Church I was able to satisfy my curiosity and become acquainted with these high Chinese dignitaries. When they left for their own country my manager went with them, in the hope that, through their good offices, I might dance at the Chinese court in the presence of the dowager Empress and her son.As soon as my representative was in China, he cabled me that everything had been arranged and that I was to take the first steamer leaving Vancouver.After crossing the continent I was on the point of embarking with my mother, when the state of her health caused me the keenest anxiety. Her prostration was so complete that I was obliged to send a message to China, indicating the impossibility of keeping my engagement.My manager rejoined us utterly dejected.At Pekin a magnificent reception had been prepared for me. I was to dance before the Emperor and Empress and then in Japan I was to appearbefore the Mikado. The theatre of the best Japanese actor, Danjero, was to be put at my disposal. And all that to no purpose whatever. My manager brought back from this oriental country the most marvellous of embroideries, which Li Hung Chang had sent over for me.I experienced genuine regret at the failure of this trip, then I forgot all about it.One evening in London one of my friends at dinner found herself seated next to a very high Chinese official. Apropos of the rich colouring of the mandarin’s garments, they came to speak about me and my coloured dances, and my friend said to her companion:“You are acquainted with Loie Fuller, I presume.”“Well, yes, madam,” he replied. “I am only too well acquainted with her, if I may say so.”“How is that?”“I went to the United States with Li Hung Chang. Loie Fuller’s manager accompanied us on our return to China, and, through the influence of the Viceroy, we gained permission for Loie Fuller to appear before the Empress. Just as she was about to leave for Pekin she broke her agreement. It fell upon me to inform her Majesty that Loie Fuller was unable to obey the Imperial mandate. The Empress had me degraded! That was eight years ago. I lost my yellow jacket, which has only recently been restored to me.”My friend pleaded my case, alleging the condition of my mother’s health, and the seriousness of her malady at the time of my failure to report in the celestial empire.I suppose that it would be too much to expect of His Excellency to ask him to forgive my mistake. If I had known that my failure to appear would be attended with such consequences, I should, instead of cabling to my manager, have forwarded a long dispatch to the Empress herself, telling her the reasons for my failure to keep an engagement. A woman with a heart, even if she be an Empress, could not blame a daughter for doing her duty towards her mother.How Queen Alexandra did not fail to see me.One morning the papers said that the King and Queen of England were going to spend several days in Paris.I was then dancing at the Hippodrome and, remembering what Princess Marie of Roumania had told me, I decided not to let this occasion slip, and I wrote to the Queen herself, asking if she would be kind enough to set aside an hour in which I might give a performance, at her own convenience and whenever she chose.I should never, indeed, have supposed it possible to ask her to come to the Hippodrome. One of her maids of honour answered the note, saying that Her Majesty’s stay was of limited duration,and that she had already accepted too many invitations to undertake any new engagements.After that I thought no more of the Queen.Arriving at a matinee one Thursday, I noticed in front of the Hippodrome quite an impressive line of carriages, all displaying the royal insignia.“The Queen has sent some one to my matinee,” I thought. “She wants to know whether my dances are really worth seeing. If I make a pleasant impression the Queen will perhaps some day ask me to dance before her.”I went into my dressing-room. I had nearly finished my preparations when the manager rushed in post haste calling out:“It’s four o’clock and the Queen has been waiting since half-past two.”“What! The Queen is here! Why didn’t you inform me sooner?”He was too unnerved to make a lengthy explanation. I hurried down and two minutes later I was on the stage.In the middle of my dance the Queen arose and left the theatre with all her attendants. I saw her rise and go!I thought the floor would open and engulf me. What had I done to offend her? Was she indignant that I had made her wait? Was this her way of punishing me for my discourtesy, or did my dances displease her? What was I to think?I went home in utter despair.I had just realised one of my dearest wishes, that of dancing before the Queen. Never had I experienced such dejection. I should have preferred a thousand times that she had not come.I learned afterward at the theatre that a telephone message had come shortly after noon to the effect that the Queen wished to see Loie Fuller, but that she would have to leave at four o’clock.The manager, who had supposed that the Queen was coming to see the Hippodrome, had not attached any importance to the intimation regarding me, and did not even take the trouble to find out whether I was there or not.Next morning all the papers recorded that the Queen of England had come to the Hippodrome, despite her many appointments and engagements made some time earlier, and so forth and so forth.There was not a word about me.However, as I had written to the Queen to ask her to come it seemed to me that I ought to excuse myself for my apparent discourtesy. I wrote to her accordingly, telling her how distressed I was at my failure to appear earlier—a failure that would not have occurred if some one had come to apprise me. I regretted that the message had not been forwarded to me instead of to the manager.That same evening one of my friends came to tell me that she had written the day before to oneof the Queen’s maids of honour, whom she knewpersonally, asking her to come and see me dance at the Hippodrome.THE DANCE OF THE BUTTERFLYPhotoLafitteTHE DANCE OF THE BUTTERFLY“That will make your new dances celebrated all over the world,” said my friend. “The Queen will come, I am certain of it, if it is at all possible.”Overcome with surprise, I looked at my friend, and exclaimed:“Well, then, that is why she came this afternoon!”“Has she already come to see you? I should not have expected such promptness.”“She came to the matinee.”And I told my friend the whole story in detail.She still could not understand why the Queen had left so hastily, and enquired into the reason.Presently everything was explained.The Queen had agreed to visit a painter’s studio at half-past three and then, at four o’clock, to call upon M. and Mme. Loubet. Nevertheless she remained at the Hippodrome until ten minutes past four. The King went alone to the studio and the Queen arrived late at the President’s house.After that I fully appreciated her kindness, her patience. I still feel endless gratitude to her for having waited so long, for not having left the theatre without seeing, if it was only for a moment, Loie Fuller and her dances.As for the manager, he is still convinced that the Queen did not come to see Loie Fuller, but the Hippodrome, and only the Hippodrome.
IN the course of my travels about the world, east, west, north and south, over oceans and across continents, I have had the experience of seeing or of encountering many persons of distinction, including not a few sovereigns and members of royal households.
It has seemed to me that it might be interesting to bring together at this point some of the most typical of the incidents that occur to me. Just as they come, drawn haphazard from memory, without order or sequence, and with no thought of literary composition, I am going to put them simply on paper, one by one.
How I Failed to see Queen Victoria.
One day at Nice some one came and asked me to dance before Queen Victoria. She had just arrived on the Riviera to pass the winter months, as she was accustomed to do every year.
It may well be believed that I was flattered by such a request. I assented, naturally, and set myself to work making all my preparations for this important event.
There was a knock at the door. A maid brought a telegram. It was signed by my manager, and was couched in the following words: “Take train this evening, to sail day after to-morrow; destination, New York.”
I replied with a message pleading for a delay, for the purpose of dancing before Queen Victoria.
I received simply the following laconic telegram:
“Impossible. Leave at once. Time is money.”
That’s why I did not dance before Queen Victoria.
I stop the Queen of the Belgians in the Street.
I was engaged for some performances at Spa. The evening of my first appearance the Queen and Princess Clementine were in the royal box. That was a gala evening, one on which the hall was resplendent with magnificent gowns and jewels.
Everything went off perfectly.
Next morning I went for a walk with my mother. We were crossing the causeway when a carriage, drawn by two spirited horses driven by a middle-aged woman, bore down upon us.
Frightened on account of my mother, I threw up my arms in front of the carriage, which stopped.
The lady allowed us to pass and, while thanking her, I remarked to myself that a woman ought not to drive such lively horses.
I had forgotten the incident when, shortlyafter my return to the hotel, I saw the same carriage go by.
Two gentlemen were talking on the landing near us.
“See. There is the Queen,” said one of them.
It was the Queen whom I had stopped!
Princely Simplicity.
At the Hague I was asked to give a performance before the Grand Duke and Duchess of Mecklenburg, Princess Victoria of Schaumburg-Lippe and their retinue.
The hall was well filled. I had the Philharmonic Society’s orchestra.
This was a gala evening, and in every way a very successful one for me.
Next day on coming down from my room I encountered on the stairway of the hotel a lady with a very sweet expression, who asked me:
“You are Miss Loie Fuller? Your dances interest me greatly. My husband has gone out on the beach. Wouldn’t you like to come and talk to him about your lighting effects. I am sure that would prove very interesting to him.”
I gladly acquiesced and followed her.
I was delighted to talk to this woman and her husband, who proved to be a most delightful man. I explained to them all my schemes of lighting and my dances. I then took my leave and joined my mother, who was waiting for me.
When I returned to the hotel the proprietor came to me and said:
“You met with great success yesterday, Miss Fuller, and with even greater this morning.”
“This morning?”
“Yes. Do you know who the gentleman is with whom you have just been talking?”
“No. Who is he?”
“The Grand Duke of Mecklenburg.”
This same day I boarded a street car.
On the car several people appeared to know me. One lady came and sat beside me and began to talk.
When we arrived at our destination I asked her if she would not tell me her name.
“Victoria de Schaumburg-Lippe.”
One evening when I was dancing at the Hague the princess was in the hall with Major Winslow and others of her retinue. She sent for me, and asked me to show her one of my robes.
I brought her the robe which I put on for the butterfly dance.
She took the stuff in her hand and said:
“The robe is really wonderful, but it is after all only what you do that counts.”
I remember that she asked me to sign a photograph for her. And when I returned to the hotel the manager of the Kurhaus handed to me an exceedingly pretty watch, on the cover of which were engraved these words:
“In memory of the performance given for Princess Victoria.”
The Curiosity of the Archduchesses of Austria.
I was once at the Swedish gymnasium at Carlsbad, where machines with electrical vibrations shock you from head to foot. I was just about to dress myself when one of the women of the place came to me, and said:
“Won’t you please return to the hall, and pretend to take the electric treatment again in order that the archduchesses, who are there, with a whole crowd of court ladies, may see you?”
I replied: “Tell the archduchesses that they can see me this evening at the theatre.”
The poor woman then declared to me that she had been forbidden to mention their Royal Highnesses, and that they had bidden her get me back into the hall on some pretext or other.
She was so grieved at not having succeeded that I returned to the machines, and had my back massaged, in order that the noble company might look at me at their ease, as they would survey an interesting animal.
They looked at me, all of them, smiling, and while they viewed me I never turned my eyes away from them.
The odd thing was that they did not know that I knew them. I was, therefore, as muchamused by them, and without their perceiving it, as they were amused by me.
How I was not decorated with the Order of the Lion and the Sun of Persia.
During one of the visits that the Shah of Persia pays to Paris, the Marquis and Marquise d’Oyley, who were great friends of the Sovereign and who were very fond of my dancing, brought the Shah to one of my performances at Marigny.
After my appearance on the stage the Marquis and Marquise, accompanied by some dignitaries of the sovereign’s retinue, came to my dressing-room and brought me a Persian flag, which they begged me to use in one of my dances.
What could I do with that heavy flag? In vain I racked my brain. I could not discover any way. I could not refuse, and I was unable on the other hand to convince them that it was impossible to try anything so impromptu without running the risk of a failure.
More and more perplexed I made my entrance for the last dance. I had the great flag in my arms. I tried to wave it gracefully, but I did not succeed. I tried to strike a noble attitude, still holding the flag. Again I failed. It was a woollen banner and would not float. Finally I stood stock still, holding the staff upright, in as imposing an attitude as possible. Then I bowed until the curtain fell.
My friends were surprised to observe that mylast dance had displeased his Majesty. The Shah finally told them that he did not see why the Persian flag had been desecrated. No one dared to tell him that the idea had not come from me, but from persons of his retinue, or to inform him how I had received the flag.
My friends, the d’Oyleys, consoled me by saying that my pose had been very noble and that even the flag, falling around me in heavy folds, had produced a very striking effect.
The Shah decorates everybody who has attracted his attention; that is a habit he has acquired. For my part, thanks to the brilliant idea of the dignitaries from the court of Teheran, I have never seen either the tail of the Lion or a ray of the Sun peculiar to Persian decoration.
I have been told on other authority that on this evening the Shah’s first thought was of a bomb which, so it had been announced, was to be thrown at him in the hall. He was thinking of this rather than of my person, my dances or even of the Persian flag I “profaned.”
My Adventure with a Negro King.
At the Colonial exposition in Marseilles in 1907 I was with some friends in the pavilion of one of the exhibitors when a magnificent negro, six feet high, who looked like some prince from the Thousand and One Nights, came upon the terrace where we sat. He was accompanied by a large retinue.The other negroes were dressed the same as he, but none of them had his magnificent presence.
Some French officials accompanied the visitors, who, naturally, created a tremendous effect with their costumes, which were simple but exquisitely finished. When they came near I exclaimed:
“He might be called a king out of a fairy tale!”
They passed before us and took their places in the reception hall.
The proprietor presently came to our group, and asked us if we would not like to assist him in receiving the King of Djoloff in Senegal.
“He is visiting the Exposition as a private citizen,” he added. “If you would like to make his acquaintance come and I will present you.”
I was charmed.
When I was in the presence of the king, I said quietly to my friends, in a distinct voice and in French:
“What a handsome savage; I wonder if they are all built on this model in Africa.”
I was presented to the king. He extended his hand, and, to my consternation, I heard him say in very good French:
“I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss Fuller. I have applauded you frequently. My education was gained in Paris.”
I could not repress an exclamation.
“Good heavens! Then you heard what I said, and you never raised an eyelash!”
“No, since you did not suppose that I understood you.”
I looked at him for a minute or two to find out whether he had been irritated or not. He smiled diplomatically and I felt that we should be friends.
I was dancing at Marseilles at that time. He came to the theatre to see me after the performance.
“What can we do that will give you pleasure in exchange for the great satisfaction that your dances have just brought us?” he asked me.
I thought the matter over a minute.
“I should like it very much if I might be present at one of your religious ceremonies.”
The black chief promised to come to my hotel, and to give me an idea of the ritualistic practices of his country.
The next day, accordingly, I made preparations for a tea-party in the hotel garden. Rugs were spread on the grass and everything was in readiness to receive the monarch.
“When will the ceremony begin?” I asked the king as soon as he had arrived.
“We shall say our prayer at six o’clock, just at sunset.”
As night came on I observed that the king and his followers began to survey the sky in every direction, and I wondered why. Noting my wonderment, the king told me that they wereendeavouring to get their bearings in order to be certain of the point toward which the sun was tending at the end of his journey.
“We are required,” he said, “always to pray with our faces toward the setting sun.”
He gave the order to begin the ceremony then and there. I wish I could describe it as perfectly as I saw it.
The unity of the motions of all these men was simply wonderful. All together they said the same brief prayer, and with mechanical precision made the same movement, which, from the point of view of devotion, seemed to have similar importance to the words of their ritual. The large white cloaks, spread over long blue blouses, waved round their bodies. The men prostrated themselves, touched the ground with their foreheads and then raised themselves together. The rhythm and precision were most impressive. It was really very, very beautiful.
After the prayers the king told me that his father had been dethroned and then exiled from Senegal by the French Government. As for himself, in his turn he had been nominated chief of his tribe, for in reality there was no longer a king. He was a French subject, and in his country, which was tributory to France, he was no more than chief of his clan.
But the majesty remained, nevertheless, magnificently expressed in his features.
While we were conversing I asked permission to put some indiscreet questions. After he had consented, all the while smiling his peculiarly winning smile, I asked him if he was married?
He replied in the affirmative. He had four wives. As I appeared to be surprised to note that he travelled without them, especially in a country where there are so many pretty women, he, in his turn, looked at me for some time, and replied:
“From the point of view of my wives a white woman has neither charm nor beauty.”
This surprised me greatly, and I asked him whether that was because they had never seen any white women.
“Oh,” he replied, “in any case they would not be jealous of a white woman. It seems to them absolutely impossible that a pale-faced woman can play any part in my life.”
“And you? Are you so sure of that? If a white woman with long blonde hair should suddenly appear in your country, among your black women, would she not be taken for an angel?”
“Oh, no. She would be taken for a devil. Angels are black in our Paradise.”
This, I must confess, opened new vistas in the domain of religion. It had never before appeared so clear to me that men make their gods in their own image, rather than that the gods make men after theirs.
How the Empress of China Degraded a Mandarin on my Account.
I was dancing in New York when several of Li Hung Chang’s followers came to the theatre. Some friends presented me to the American military attaché, Mr. Church, who accompanied the Viceroy.
Thanks to Mr. Church I was able to satisfy my curiosity and become acquainted with these high Chinese dignitaries. When they left for their own country my manager went with them, in the hope that, through their good offices, I might dance at the Chinese court in the presence of the dowager Empress and her son.
As soon as my representative was in China, he cabled me that everything had been arranged and that I was to take the first steamer leaving Vancouver.
After crossing the continent I was on the point of embarking with my mother, when the state of her health caused me the keenest anxiety. Her prostration was so complete that I was obliged to send a message to China, indicating the impossibility of keeping my engagement.
My manager rejoined us utterly dejected.
At Pekin a magnificent reception had been prepared for me. I was to dance before the Emperor and Empress and then in Japan I was to appearbefore the Mikado. The theatre of the best Japanese actor, Danjero, was to be put at my disposal. And all that to no purpose whatever. My manager brought back from this oriental country the most marvellous of embroideries, which Li Hung Chang had sent over for me.
I experienced genuine regret at the failure of this trip, then I forgot all about it.
One evening in London one of my friends at dinner found herself seated next to a very high Chinese official. Apropos of the rich colouring of the mandarin’s garments, they came to speak about me and my coloured dances, and my friend said to her companion:
“You are acquainted with Loie Fuller, I presume.”
“Well, yes, madam,” he replied. “I am only too well acquainted with her, if I may say so.”
“How is that?”
“I went to the United States with Li Hung Chang. Loie Fuller’s manager accompanied us on our return to China, and, through the influence of the Viceroy, we gained permission for Loie Fuller to appear before the Empress. Just as she was about to leave for Pekin she broke her agreement. It fell upon me to inform her Majesty that Loie Fuller was unable to obey the Imperial mandate. The Empress had me degraded! That was eight years ago. I lost my yellow jacket, which has only recently been restored to me.”
My friend pleaded my case, alleging the condition of my mother’s health, and the seriousness of her malady at the time of my failure to report in the celestial empire.
I suppose that it would be too much to expect of His Excellency to ask him to forgive my mistake. If I had known that my failure to appear would be attended with such consequences, I should, instead of cabling to my manager, have forwarded a long dispatch to the Empress herself, telling her the reasons for my failure to keep an engagement. A woman with a heart, even if she be an Empress, could not blame a daughter for doing her duty towards her mother.
How Queen Alexandra did not fail to see me.
One morning the papers said that the King and Queen of England were going to spend several days in Paris.
I was then dancing at the Hippodrome and, remembering what Princess Marie of Roumania had told me, I decided not to let this occasion slip, and I wrote to the Queen herself, asking if she would be kind enough to set aside an hour in which I might give a performance, at her own convenience and whenever she chose.
I should never, indeed, have supposed it possible to ask her to come to the Hippodrome. One of her maids of honour answered the note, saying that Her Majesty’s stay was of limited duration,and that she had already accepted too many invitations to undertake any new engagements.
After that I thought no more of the Queen.
Arriving at a matinee one Thursday, I noticed in front of the Hippodrome quite an impressive line of carriages, all displaying the royal insignia.
“The Queen has sent some one to my matinee,” I thought. “She wants to know whether my dances are really worth seeing. If I make a pleasant impression the Queen will perhaps some day ask me to dance before her.”
I went into my dressing-room. I had nearly finished my preparations when the manager rushed in post haste calling out:
“It’s four o’clock and the Queen has been waiting since half-past two.”
“What! The Queen is here! Why didn’t you inform me sooner?”
He was too unnerved to make a lengthy explanation. I hurried down and two minutes later I was on the stage.
In the middle of my dance the Queen arose and left the theatre with all her attendants. I saw her rise and go!
I thought the floor would open and engulf me. What had I done to offend her? Was she indignant that I had made her wait? Was this her way of punishing me for my discourtesy, or did my dances displease her? What was I to think?
I went home in utter despair.
I had just realised one of my dearest wishes, that of dancing before the Queen. Never had I experienced such dejection. I should have preferred a thousand times that she had not come.
I learned afterward at the theatre that a telephone message had come shortly after noon to the effect that the Queen wished to see Loie Fuller, but that she would have to leave at four o’clock.
The manager, who had supposed that the Queen was coming to see the Hippodrome, had not attached any importance to the intimation regarding me, and did not even take the trouble to find out whether I was there or not.
Next morning all the papers recorded that the Queen of England had come to the Hippodrome, despite her many appointments and engagements made some time earlier, and so forth and so forth.
There was not a word about me.
However, as I had written to the Queen to ask her to come it seemed to me that I ought to excuse myself for my apparent discourtesy. I wrote to her accordingly, telling her how distressed I was at my failure to appear earlier—a failure that would not have occurred if some one had come to apprise me. I regretted that the message had not been forwarded to me instead of to the manager.
That same evening one of my friends came to tell me that she had written the day before to oneof the Queen’s maids of honour, whom she knewpersonally, asking her to come and see me dance at the Hippodrome.
THE DANCE OF THE BUTTERFLYPhotoLafitteTHE DANCE OF THE BUTTERFLY
THE DANCE OF THE BUTTERFLYPhotoLafitteTHE DANCE OF THE BUTTERFLY
PhotoLafitteTHE DANCE OF THE BUTTERFLY
“That will make your new dances celebrated all over the world,” said my friend. “The Queen will come, I am certain of it, if it is at all possible.”
Overcome with surprise, I looked at my friend, and exclaimed:
“Well, then, that is why she came this afternoon!”
“Has she already come to see you? I should not have expected such promptness.”
“She came to the matinee.”
And I told my friend the whole story in detail.
She still could not understand why the Queen had left so hastily, and enquired into the reason.
Presently everything was explained.
The Queen had agreed to visit a painter’s studio at half-past three and then, at four o’clock, to call upon M. and Mme. Loubet. Nevertheless she remained at the Hippodrome until ten minutes past four. The King went alone to the studio and the Queen arrived late at the President’s house.
After that I fully appreciated her kindness, her patience. I still feel endless gratitude to her for having waited so long, for not having left the theatre without seeing, if it was only for a moment, Loie Fuller and her dances.
As for the manager, he is still convinced that the Queen did not come to see Loie Fuller, but the Hippodrome, and only the Hippodrome.