Lulu La Lopez— Wrecker of Men

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 400, 14 July 1928, Page 24

Lulu La Lopez— Wrecker of Men

Bein'/ a “spoof” review of a “spoof autobiography by that prince of humor ists — Mr. D. B. IF yndham-Levcis . . .

“MY LIFE,” by Sir William Boulge. 2 ! vols., illustrated, with 3 maps. London, 8010 and Co., ISs net. (Pub- ; lished to-day.) rpHIS is the simple record of a closely-packed life. From 1835 to 1904 Sir William Boulge moved through cosmopolitan society with inimitable grace, mingling in the gay life of every capital in the civilised world, and often visiting New York. He has long been known as the Grand Old Man of Cosmopolis; to his hosts of friends, more familiarly as “Nasty.” He was perhaps the last of the Regency bucks, and remembers, as a youth, conversing with George IV. at Brighton. The story may be told in his own words: His Majesty, loking very bronzed and fit, though stout, was chatting with Sir Harry Plunger, “Sambo” Gibbs, Nat-e----more, and others. On seeing me he stopped at once and very graciously inquired, “And who is this d d fellow?” Plunger, I think, said: “Oh, some d d fellow or other, Sir.” “Well,” said his Majesty, laughing heartily, “I’m d d if I ever saw such a d d looking fellow before, damme.” “Damme, Sir,” said Nasemore, “you’re right. Even at Brighton, damme.” His Majesty again laughed heartily and, saying, “D d good!” stabbed at me abstractedly with his walking-cane and passed on. A few years later Sir William, passoing through Calais, saw Beau Brummell in the last stages of his poverty ancl decay, and enjoyed a chat with him. I entered the room nriskly and saluted Brummell, who was reclining in a chair with closed eyes. I told him my name. He opened his eyes at once. “Did you- say Boulge?” he said. “I did,” I said. “Well,” said Brummell, with a faint flash of his old-time grace, “get out.” I then left the room, and Calais. It was a dozen years after this that Sir William, being appointed First Secretary at Paris through the influence of Mrs. Henry Swinger, met the woman who was to sweep through his life like a storm and leave him, as he himself says, bosko. Who does not remember Lulu La Lopez, the Snake Dancer? Brilliant, fearless, lovely, heartless, she careered through the gay life of Europe, leaving behind her delirium and devastation. Her Titianred hair, her lithe form, her strange oval jade-green eyes, the almost cruel abandon of her whirlwind dancing, conquered the 'bean monde whereever she appeared. By the courtesy of Messrs. 8010 I am enabled to reproduce a photograph of Lulu in the blaze of her youth and beauty, performing her Snake Dance, in the daring Oriental costume she affected. The greater part of the first volume of these memoirs is d e v o t ed to Lulu La Lopez. When Sir William met her at the Alcazar she was just twenty, and had already a long string of desperate lovers. Her married name was Widdups— so c a 1 led after her first husband, Elmer P. Wuldups, a handsome traveller i n 1i li s e ed, of Alcib a d es Ga. Of him Lulu would often say, “He was a tiger. And she would frequently add, “So was Fred Porson Wigley. I was a butterfly, and Fred Porson Wigley tamed me. The Maharajah of Puttipur was a tiger, too. But it is not enough to be a tiger; one must be in tune with Life, seeking its rhythm, expressing it in terms of one’s Art, and one’s Art in terms of it.”

Lulu, La Lopez, at 20, in her daring snake dance. “She was a whirlwind of erotic, magnetic animality,** says Elmer P. Widdups. Men were toys for her, scorching: themselves rreety at the flame of her cruel beauty. —Photo by Bismuth «& Co.

Baron von Mosen once asked her, “Lulu, is not the harmonious control of Art by Art the essential activity of true criticism?”

She replied, “It is. You dub,” she added, biting her lip. I have no space to recount all the. adventures of this femme fatale: how she once left a Crowned Head planted in Posen and travelled all day and night to Venice, haying heard that there was a gentleman named Thompson, or Timpson, staying at Danieli’s, who was in rhythm with the Great Supernal Life-Song. How she roamed hither and thither, eternally dissatisfied, eternally seeking a twin soul and leaving people to pay for cabs and meals, would require a volume to describe, and does.

Boulge, the last of the Regency bucks, was her toy. She would send him a telegram from London or Paris and bring him all the way over from Lima or Helsingfors simply to be trampled on, while she laughed like silver hells. The same night she would send him all the way back again. “I think,” he writes, “Lulu was temperamental; but she was womanly au fond, and liked Ruskin —Jacky,’ as she called him.” The international scandals in which Lulu La Lopez was involved, the

Blum’uerg Diamonds case, t b e C h anceilery box, the V i 1 1 a v i 11aVillayilla suicides, the Ho Cliang aflair, the Waterloo Cup . . . but they are endless, like her list of loyers. Sir William remained her slave, and only once succeeded in wounding the proud, cruel, lovely creature. This was when he refused to introduce her to his people. She flung a lamn at him

and flounced off to New York, where six we eks later Homer G. Van Ploop shot himself on her account in interesting circ u instances. His first shot merely wounded him. As he lay groaning on the floor his broker rang up and suggested hulling Plazas for a rise, to which Homer G. Van Ploop instantly agreed, thus swinging across the Five Point Group and smashing the Hooey combine; after which he fired his second shot, wnlch proved fatal, and so died a martyr to love and holding the market. Our photograph of Miss Annie Givius is from Vol. 11., which is full of the other European celebrities and notorieties whom Sir William knew intimately, and is the only one extant of that beautiful society adventuress in action. There is a printer’s error on page 67. For “Lord Edward was very much ashamed of his pieface,” read “ashamed of his preface.”