Burlesques William Makepeace Thackeray

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The opera is bad enough; but what is that to the bally? You SHOULD have seen my Jemmy
the first night when she stopped to see it; and when Madamsalls Fanny and Theresa Hustler
came forward, along with a gentleman, to dance, you should have seen how Jemmy stared,
and our girl blushed, when Madamsall Fanny, coming forward, stood on the tips of only
five of her toes, and raising up the other five, and the foot belonging to them, almost to her
shoulder, twirled round, and round, and round, like a teetotum, for a couple of minutes or
more; and as she settled down, at last, on both feet, in a natural decent posture, you should
have heard how the house roared with applause, the boxes clapping with all their might,
and waving their handkerchiefs; the pit shouting, "Bravo!" Some people, who, I suppose,
were rather angry at such an exhibition, threw bunches of flowers at her; and what do you
think she did? Why, hang me, if she did not come forward, as though nothing had
happened, gather up the things they had thrown at her, smile, press them to her heart, and
begin whirling round again faster than ever. Talk about coolness, I never saw such in all
MY born days.
"Nasty thing!" says Jemmy, starting up in a fury; "if women WILL act so, it serves them
right to be treated so."
"Oh, yes! she acts beautifully," says our friend his Excellency, who along with Baron von
Punter and Tagrag, used very seldom to miss coming to our box.
"She may act very beautifully, Munseer, but she don't dress so; and I am very glad they
threw that orange-peel and all those things at her, and that the people waved to her to get
off."
Here his Excellency, and the Baron and Tag, set up a roar of laughter.
"My dear Mrs. Coxe," says Tag, "those are the most famous dancers in the world; and we
throw myrtle, geraniums, and lilies and roses at them, in token of our immense admiration!"
"Well, I never!" said my wife; and poor Jemimarann slunk behind the curtain, and looked
as red as it almost. After the one had done the next begun; but when, all of a sudden, a
somebody came skipping and bounding in, like an Indian-rubber ball, flinging itself up, at
least six feet from the stage, and there shaking about its legs like mad, we were more
astonished than ever!
"That's Anatole," says one of the gentlemen.
"Anna who?" says my wife; and she might well be mistaken: for this person had a hat and
feathers, a bare neck and arms, great black ringlets, and a little calico frock, which came
down to the knees.