A Day In the Chorus

In 1893, The Westminster Budget, a London Weekly, arranged for one of it's Lady reporters to spend a day in the chorus line at the Drury Lane Theatre.

Reproduced below is her account of her experiences as published in that journal, together with a regular chorus girl's account, published some years later, of her evening.

---

(The Westminster Budget [UK] - 2nd Feb. 1893)
MY DEBUT AT DRURY LANE - BY OUR OWN LADY AMATEUR

"It's all very fine for them to order me to find a dress at a minute's notice, but it isn't such an easy matter." The speaker was the wardrobe mistress at Drury Lane.

"You want a dress appropriate to the whole scene, of course. What sort of a one do you think you would like?"

"Oh, a lady's dress, please. I don't much care what."

"Not a boy's dress?"

"No, I would rather not wear a boy's dress."

"Well, how would you like a Watteau costume? That would do for one scene. I don't know what else to give you, I'm sure."

"A Watteau costume would be lovely!" I exclaimed enthusiastically, feeling considerably relieved. I would like it immensely. How many dresses am I to have?"

"Two. Yes; I think you shall be one of the forty thieves."

This colloquy took place on the way to the dressing-rooms. The morning performance was in full swing. Several gorgeously attired ladies in costumes of various kinds, laughing or humming catchy refrains, passed by as I followed my guide up two flights of stairs. On the third floor landing I caught sight of some girls dressing.

"Run back, quick, and see how you like the lady's costume who has just passed."

I did so, viewing the vanishing figure from the top of the stairs.

"Well, how d'ye like it? That's one of the forty thieves."

"I don't know - it's tights."

"Oh, well, they wouldn't be a great objection surely. The cloak is so very ample."

"Very well," I said, with as resigned an air as I could assume. "If you can give me nothing else, I suppose I shall have to wear it."

"Wait in here for a few minutes then, while I order your dresses."

I was shown into a room where dressmaking operations were going forward. It contained a deal table, several clothes-boxes, and was littered with rolls of materials in silks and satins. Its occupants were a sewing-maid and a stout, elderly lady in a bonnet.

The wardrobe-mistress returned presently. "Take this lady down to Mrs. Sedger's room, will you, please?" she said, addressing the girl.

I went down the stairs I had just come up, and was ushered into a little back parlour where were also piles of dress stuff.

When the girl came back she began a search among the dress lengths. "It was yellow Mrs. Thornhill said I was to give you for your dress, miss, wasn't it?" she inquired. "If you want to speak to her again, will you go upstairs-two flights, and then turn to the left."

"I think I'll put you in this dressing-room," said Mrs. Thornhill. "Miss S is a very nice girl - a rather superior young lady. You'd be all right here, I think. But stay - no, perhaps I had better put you with the other ladies."

"Which others?" I ventured to inquire.

"Oh, well, they consider themselves a kick, above the ladies in Miss C.'s room, that's all. Yes, I think I'll put you in No. 2."

We went down the next flight and turned into a small room on the first floor. This was No. 2. I took a quick glance round. It was in the state of confusion you would expect in any dressing-room occupied by a dozen girls. The broad shelf which ran round three sides of the room, and took the place of dressing-tables, was covered with a miscellaneous litter of curling-tongs, looking-glasses, tea-cups, rouge-pots, tumblers, hair-pins, and various small articles of wearing apparel, and all sorts of toilet accessories. The chairs were all heaped up with finery. The other furniture consisted of a couple of washstands and a row of clothes-pegs.

"I want you to look out this lady's dresses at once," said the wardrobe-mistress to the young woman in charge, who seemed to be vainly struggling to restore order. " She'll dress here to-night." Then turning to me, " Which of these two costumes will you have? This looks the freshest."

"Yes, I'll have that, please," I replied, selecting one in flowered yellow brocade.

"Will you try your shoes? If they won't fit I must have you measured for a pair of canvas ones. Get out her head-dress and stockings, Rose. Her other costume is upstairs. She'll be one of the forty thieves."

The preliminary arrangements thus concluded, I was introduced to the man at the stage-door, who took my name and a mental note of my appearance (no one is allowed to pass this door who is not professionally connected with the theatre). "Mind you're here by twenty, past seven," was Mrs. Thornhills parting injunction, "and go straight up to No. 2." A wonderfully cool, clear-sighted, level-headed person is the wardrobe mistress - the right woman in the right place.

I rushed home at once to have tea and screw up my courage for the role I had to play. There were two hours and a half yet before me. I tried to revolve in my mind what I might have to do; but presently, like Mr. Pickwick, fell to "ruminating on the strange mutability of human affairs," and an up-to-date Press woman's in particular. Little, indeed, did I imagine, when enjoying the pantomime from a seat in the stalls on Boxing Night, that five weeks later I should actually be assisting in the performance itself. Naturally I had some apprehensions as to how I should come out of it. I thought it just possible that I might have a rough time of it with the other girls. They might lead me a life as a newcomer. The idea of the stage itself did not inspire me with terrors. I should only be one morsel of humanity in a great crowd. Even the knowledge that I should be sure to do everything I had to do wrong did not frighten me. The fact that I was new to the work would preclude the possibility of my being placed anywhere near the front. So I felt almost as cool as usual when I reached the theatre. The dressing-room presented a lively scene now. Half-a-dozen girls had already arrived, and were laughing, joking, and chattering in a fashion calculated to daze anyone unaccustomed to such a babel. All eyes were turned on me when I entered.

"This is the new lady who is going to dress here to-night," said the attendant, by way of introduction. "Here's your dress, my dear," she went on, turning to me. I nodded to one or two of the girls, said "Good evening," and then began, to take off my things. Attention was soon diverted from myself, I was thankful to notice, by the arrival of the other girls. I began to wonder how I should get through the business of making-up. First I thoughy I might be able to conceal the fact that I was a complete novice by watching how the other girls did it. It was soon apparent, however, that there would be no time for that. I must get ready as quickly as possible.

In situations where you are likely to blunder, and don't want to be laughed at, it's much better to be bold than furtive. I told the girl who stood near me arranging her head-dress that I didn't know how to make up, and, what was worse, had forgotten to bring the materials required for the purpose.

"Oh, well," she said, good-naturedly, "you can use mine. To begin with grease your face all over. Here you are," handing me the grease-pot. "No, no not so thick; you won't get the other stuff to look smooth if you put it on like that. Apply it lightly. Now then, take the powder-puff. Put on plenty. Why, I declare you haven't touched your forehead. Try again. That's better. Now go and get your shoes and stockings on - you'll be pretty hot presently. Now, then," continued my instructress (she was busy putting finishing touches to her coiffure), "come back to the glass and stick on your rouge."

"Does that look all right ?" I asked, turning my face round for inspection."

"No, no. Oh dear!" - she was pretending to be in a tantrum now - "you're putting it on in patches. Bring it up hearer your nose. Oh, come here for gracious sake and let me do it. Rose, where's her head-dress?"

"Here it is, miss," said Rose, handing me a beautiful white curly wig. It was so pretty that I was quite eager to get it on. I arranged my own hair as flatly as possible, and put the wig on top. Try as I would though, my head wouldn't go into it. My making up troubles were nothing to what I was now about to endure.

"Hang on in front now while I pull hard at the back," said a Scotch girl, coming to the rescue. "Hang on, you're not half pulling. I say, ladies, we shall have to send for Sir Augustus to get us out of this fix. Hang it, Rose, can't you find another wig that'll fit the lady?"

"No, miss; I don't suppose I can. You can try this, if you like, but I am sure it's no bigger."

"Why, they're both boys' wigs," said the girl. "Now" (to me), "see if you can get this on any better. Hang on again in front. It'll do, I think. We'll pin a bit of loose hair on to cover up what's to be seen of your own at the back. That's it. Wait a minute, my dear, I must stick in a few pins. Why, you haven't done up your eyes! Here, keep steady a minute, my dear. I'll do them. There, now close them. That's it; they're finished. Here's your hat."

Meanwhile the other girls had been chattering incessantly. They all seemed to talk at once. Never had I seen girls so full of spirits. They laughed at anything and everything.

"There's the bell, ladies!"

"Oh, dear, I feel so nervous," I whispered to the girl who went down with me. "My shoes are slipping at the heel too. Do help me not to go wrong. Is my hat on right?"

"You'll be all right, dear, when we get on the stage. I'll put you where you are to stand. You had better not join in the dance, as you don't know it."

The back of the stage was in semi-darkness. We had a two or three minutes wait before the curtain went up.

"Those are the Italian chorus men out of the Grand Opera," said the girl I had just been speaking to. "They'll stand at the sides. During the dance you won't be noticed if you stand here. Rest your hand on the scenery."

I had scarcely been left to myself a second when a tall girl, dressed as a cavalier, pounced upon and literally dragged me into the dance. "Come along," she said, seizing me by the wrist, "I've got no partner."

There was nothing for it but to go, so I looked brave, arched my instep, and tried to dance to time. "Your first night, is it? Well, do what I tell you. Bow to me; now change hands, now bow to me again, now give your hand to that lady. This side."

The ordeal was over in less than five minutes. Then the dancers divided and stood on each side of the stage while the procession of British sports went by. My partner was tall, graceful, and exceptionally handsome - a delightful cavalier. I literally looked up to her. She could see over my head. "Excuse me flirting with your gentleman," said another girl who had been talking and laughing with me.

"Well, how d'ye feel now, still nervous?" inquired a girl who had helped me in the dressing room.

"Do you think you'll like it?" asked a second.

"You did it all right," declared a third.

"I can see you'll get on," said a fourth.

I was encouraged by such remarks throughout the evening. We chattered and laughed in an undertone a good deal while on the stage, and I rather enjoyed myself. I learned from my cavalier that in this and a subsequent scene she generally adorned one corner of the stage, standing next the footlights. Presently she began to discuss a new lady with her companion on the other side.

"She looked rather nice the other night; but she really isn't at all pretty," said the latter, in a comforting tone.

"I bet she takes my corner," returned my cavalier pouting.

The procession coming to an end here brought the conversation to an abrupt close. I was caught and carried off to the dressing-room. There was an hour to wait before I had to go on to the stage again. All that the other girls did on the stage in this interval was to sing at the back. The rest of the time was spent in the dressing-rooms in constant chatter and a romping display of good spirits. In all this there was not only good humour, but evidently also good feeling. The girls were chums in virtue of having met and worked together in previous Lane pantomimes. The principal stage flavour of their talk were the terms in which they addressed each other. When it wasn't "my dear" or "ducky," it was "Buddie," "Max," "Trix," or some other name that would be equally applicable to a pet cat or canary. They didn't know my name, and had perforce to call me "Miss." It had rather a chilling effect, and I expected to be christened every second. This, of course, was my opportunity to get behind the scenes in another sense and learn something of the girls' lives off the stage. I was rather surprised to find more than half of them married.

The pantomime business seems to be the most regular' part of their work, though some of them I could hear go on tour. At Drury Lane these girls get 25s. to 30s. a week for the evening shows, and half as much again for morning performances. As there are morning performances every day, their full salaries come to a respectable amount easily calculated.

The Fable Scene cut off my prying after facts. I had to go on as one of the forty thieves. The other girls were "fables." I think it was Little Goody Two Shoes who affably conducted me to the other members of the robber band. The scene was "the hall of a thousand mirrors." One of them gave me a more startling sensation than previously all of them put together had. I saw my own reflection (for the first time at full length), and I didn't know it.

I smiled amiably to put myself on good terms with the young girl who seemed desirous of making my acquaintance, and I found it was myself I was making up to. I blushed, for the first and only time, because I had discovered that I had been forming the opinion that I looked rather pretty. On reflection again I have come to the conclusion that the effect was due to the charming dress I had. Stage finery is associated in the mind with cheap tawdriness; but whatever it may be elsewhere, it isn't so at Drury Lane. I should like to have my cloak as a memento of my experience. It was lovely - made of turquoise velvet and gold satin, and fell in rich, heavy folds from the shoulders.

But despite the very natural attraction the mirrors had for me, I took a good look this time at the house. I had been too nervous in the first scene to notice it. I had expected to be greatly impressed and impressive. I have no doubt it would be if you could see it. But the darkening of the "front" to enhance the brilliancy of the stage makes seeing across the footlights impossible, and so I missed what I thought would be a very interesting sight - Drury Lane from the stage. But if you don't see the audience you hear it. The echo of the laughter at Dan Leno strikes you in a curious sort of way.

There isn't much laughter on the stage. They have, they told me, got so used to it. The scene over, my part was played. I hurried to the dressing-room, got off the grease paint, dressed myself again in my more accustomed character of a lady journalist, and hurried home to jot down truthful, but nevertheless altogether favourable impressions of a night behind the scenes at Drury Lane.

---

Primary Sources: As indicated.

Articles Index   Home

---