Introduction

 

Society Divas

Cora Pearl

In analyzing the Society Divas of the 20th century, it is necessary to look as well at their predecessors of the 1800s, in order to see the evolution of style that has occurred, as well as the refinement of skill. Miss Cora Pearl serves as an excellent example, being as she was the inspiration for countless Ladies to come, including the irrepressible Pamela Churchill Harriman.

Born Eliza Emma Crouch in Plymouth, England, Cora was the daughter of Frederick Crouch, a noted music teacher and writer. Though not fabulously rich, his talent and intelligence provided the young Cora with her education in France, a country she fell in love with almost immediately.

Though not possessed of what we now would term a classical beauty, Cora was striking, and her peaches and cream complexion turned men's heads at a very early age. Cora enjoyed this newfound power, but also feared it; and being a young girl, had still many years to go before she would master her feminine skills.

Returning to England after completing her studies, Cora quickly grew bored with the middle class existence of her family, and ran away to the London in an effort to become an actress. Though not immediately successful, she had the good fortune to meet the first of several kind men who reacted passionately to the young Cora's charms. They spent a tender night together, and Cora was disappointed when he abruptly departed in the morning, though both surprised and grateful for the small sum of money he had forgotten on her night table. Cora soon realized that men often left money behind when they courted a woman, as a sort of calling card; and that if they forgot, a polite reminder was all that was needed to have them prove the honor of their intentions.

While she was still trying to find her way in London, Cora happened to meet a reasonably wealthy man who was interested in her for more than just an evening's amusement. Cora had finally come to see that not all gentlemen's intentions were honorable, and had had several close calls in London, though thank goodness no serious harm had ever come to her. Acceding to his desire, and inadvertently heightening it even further, Cora quickly was able to convince him that they would be happier in France, and that she'd be happier still with a few coins of her own in her purse. The love struck man needed no convincing, and soon Cora's purse jangled merrily as they walked up the ship's gangway on their journey across the Channel. Once there, they somehow lost each other in the crowd, and Cora was alone in a foreign land - though due to her prudent financial nature, not without comfortable means.

Armed with the confidence of the righteous, Cora once again embarked on a theatrical career, this time with much better results than in England. She quickly was able to find work as a singer/dancer in Paris, though the uncharitable sniped that she was more successful for the sex appeal she exhibited than any real talents. Cora had learned excellent manners at the convent school, however, so she just laughed it off as the petty carping of a jealous female France.

Cora's theatrical reputation quickly began to spread, and it wasn't long before the rich and powerful men of France were lining up to sample her performance. One was lucky enough to experience her charms away from the footlights, and the Duke of Rivoli became her first major benefactor.

Mr. de Rivoli was overcome with passion on meeting this striking young woman in the flesh, and it wasn't long before a flustered Cora was agreeing to accept two chateaux, as well as the household staff to run them. It goes without saying that the generous nobleman also furnished them exquisitely for her, so grateful was he for her companionship. The Duke also taught the naive young Cora how to gamble. This was a corrupting influence in young Cora's life, that would eventually contribute to her downfall. If not for her exposure to this malevolent game, Cora's life might have turned in an altogether different direction. In the beginning, however, the gambling was innocent fun, and Cora had no idea that one actually had to pay for one's losses, since the Duke discreetly paid the bill at the end of the evening.

A beautiful, talented and intelligent woman is a thing to be admired indeed, and it wasn't long before other, even more eligible suitors were lining up at Cora's door. They included some of the richest, most powerful men in Europe; including, but not limited to, Prince Willem of Orange, the eventual King of Holland; Prince Napoleon, cousin to the emperor; the Duke of Maynard, Napoleon's half brother, and James Whelpy, who tried hard to please Cora, but whose fortune wasn't great enough to be heard in such august company.

Mr. Whelpy gave Cora his riches with the simple phrase, "do with them what you will". Though somewhat annoyed by the vagueness of his request, Cora complied, and spent the next two months shopping tirelessly in an effort to please him. When she returned in triumph, showing him the lovely things she'd bought and asking for just a little bit more money, for those one or two things that had been out of her financial reach, a shocked Cora heard Mr. Whelpy make excuses about having no money left. She then realized that his intentions hadn't been honorable from the beginning, and sent him on his way. She naturally kept the presents, as she was taught that it was rude to return somebody's gift.

It was fortunate for Cora that so many other men were there to offer her sympathy in her time of sadness. Indeed, there were so many men knocking on her door, she hardly had the time to continue her stage work. Prince Napoleon gave her a carriage full of exotic violets, bought out of season at an extortionate price - the dejected young woman merely scattered them on the floor, and watched them wilt. Another gave her an enormous sterling silver statue of a horse, filled with gold and precious gems. Two of her servants, still being paid by the understanding Duke of Rivoli, were required to carry it into her living room. As the reader can well imagine, that did wonders to perk up Cora's spirits.

At this time, Cora had developed the necessary confidence to begin some serious entertaining. Both her theatrical career and her bank balance were flourishing, though the one had nothing to do with the other. Poor Cora never really had a head for figures, so she had her bills sent to one of her admirers, and her bank statements to another. Engrossed as she was with her career, it is understandable that she sometimes made mistakes, and sent the same bills and statements to more than one gentleman. She was then forced in embarrassment to accept the credits to her accounts from a bewildered shopkeeper or banker.

Always a free spirit, her banquets were legendary. Given every night for no less than 15 gentlemen, they necessitated the purchase of a side of beef per day by the cook, and the food was presented on beds of exotic violets costing thousands of francs. She remembered fondly the flowers Prince Napoleon had sent, and enjoyed using them like this as a private joke between them. She had many little amusing jokes, and once bet a dining room full of men that she could serve them a piece of meat that they wouldn't dare to cut. All made substantial wagers, and laughingly made good on their bets as a nude Cora emerged from the kitchen on a silver platter, lying on a bed of violets and discreetly bedecked with parsley. One had to be fast to keep up with Cora's wit. Her guests were always grateful for her hospitality, and often sent boxes of bon bons the next day, each piece wrapped in a thousand franc note. Never one for sweets, Cora politely thanked the messenger and threw away the candy - though not before cleverly unwrapping each piece, a sometimes lengthy task.

Even in such exalted company, some men are bound to stand out more than others, and this was true in Cora's life, as well. Prince Napoleon and Prince Achille Marat were both men that contributed mightily to Cora's success, and Prince Napoleon was loyal to her almost to the end. Between them, Cora was now the proud owner of three houses, 60 horses, and servants too numerous to count. One house was actually the largest in Paris, something necessary for the entertaining that Cora was constantly pressed into giving. Prince Marat began her passion for horses, when he insisted on giving her a stable of prized stallions. Prince Napoleon was not to be forgotten, and gave her almost a million francs worth of jewels. But something was missing for Cora, and she felt a need to revitalize her stagecraft. Life was not meant to be an endless round of parties, and Cora was a slave to her art. She was grateful now to the heavens that had provided her at last with the financial means to express herself fully.

Cora's artistic rebirth on the Paris stage was a breath of spring for a country anxious about the possibility of war. Determined at last to be seen as an artist, and not merely as a hard working woman, Cora spared no expense, and emerged on the stage in a very provocative costume that left little to the imagination. She had learned from the Italian Masters that there was nothing shameful about the human form, as long as it was exposed for noble purposes. Accentuating the outfit was a pair of boots that caused a gasp of astonishment in the crowded theater. Knee high, they were buttoned with diamonds the size of easter eggs, and the soles were encrusted with more precious stones from toe to heel. One nobleman, a Count, was seized by the desire to own them, and offered 50,000 francs for the chance - twice that if Cora would wear them when she relinquished possession. Though nothing is known of the outcome of this transaction, the evidence will show that Cora was always malleable when it came to men, and quite probably acquiesced to his request, if only so as not to hurt his feelings.

Cora was now the trendsetter of 1860s France. Whatever she did, a grateful nation followed. One day, in a lighted-hearted moment of whimsy, she dyed her hair to match the upholstery of her carriage, and the women of France followed suit. She had learned of a cunning make-up house in London, and began to have silver and crushed pearl face powders sent from across the Channel. She even shocked the Parisian sensibilities when she began to brown herself in the summer months, something unheard of at the time. This was a carefree period in Cora's life; and with Prince Napoleon beside her, encouraging her to have fun in the casinos and salons of Paris and paying all the necessary bills along the way, Cora was absolutely the toast of France.

This good hearted fun could not last long, however, and the cannons of war were soon heard in the air over France. The Franco-Prussian War had begun. This was where Cora proved her mettle, and a heroism unparalleled in the history of high society was revealed for the world to see. Just as her literary sister, Scarlett O'Hara, served her own country loyally in time of war, Cora, too, mustered her courage and resolved to save France. She turned her largest house into a hospital for officers, ripping apart her beautiful curtains and table linens to make bandages for the wounded officers. She wore a simple muslin apron over her expensive gowns, so as not to soil them while tending the sick and injured men. She served as a real nurse and heroine, and not enough can be said about her loyalty to her ravaged adopted land. It is largely due to her efforts that that great nation exists today.

With the war at an end, Cora began to pick up the pieces of her life. Her greatest admirer, Prince Napoleon, was in exile, and could no longer provide the support that she had grown to enjoy. There were several other men who were eager to replace him as Cora's object of affections, but a forlorn Cora waited loyally for her patron. One man, Alexander Duval, harassed her constantly, never ceasing in his attempts to manipulate poor Cora for his own amusement. He threw so much money at the woman that she didn't know what to do, but was certainly grateful when his bank account was empty, as she thought they could at last talk as adults. She tried with both gentleness and tact to make him understand that she could never love him, and though she was grateful for his kindness, it would be better if he stopped pursuing her. She gasped with horror when he pulled out a gun and shot himself on her doorstep.

Cora had endured so much in the war, and had seen so much blood, that she very nearly entered a fugue state, and staggered into the house to find her smelling salts. So overcome was she that she quite forgot to summon help, naturally thinking that others, too, had heard the shot. She wearily dragged herself upstairs to her bedroom, and prayed that tomorrow would be better than this day had been.

Into each life a little rain must fall, and it began to storm quite heavily for Cora the following day, at her first social engagement after the shooting. Entering the opera, she was stunned to realize that vicious gossip had been spread, saying that she had left Mr. Duval to die on her steps, out of a cold-hearted indifference to his plight. People actually began to imply that Cora had used men for their money, and was not just a serious artist who felt it impolite to refuse a gift. She hastily departed the theater when a mob began to form.

Thinking that a change of scene might improve her spirits, Cora departed for London, only to find that rumor had traveled faster than her ship. She was denied lodging at the Grosvenor House, in spite of her confirmed reservation, and left the hotel in a huff, before deciding that a house would be preferable for this interlude of reflection. Though she made many inroads into British society, Cora felt somewhat claustrophobic on an island, and decided to return to the continent. She went first to Baden Baden, where she was insulted once again at the casino, before coming home to the France that she loved so much.

Returning to the Paris of memory, Cora was dismayed to find that much had changed. Gone were the admirers of the past. A new conservatism prevailed, and she had lost her way. For the first time in her life she was alone and at wit's end, and there was no Prince on shining steed to rescue her. She soon learned that shopkeepers and casinos expected to be paid promptly, one of the few life skills she had never mastered. In desperation, she began to sell her possessions, first slowly, then ever faster. She lived in relative comfort for ten years, loyal until the end to the men who had abandoned her. Finally, desperately ill, she was forced to move to a shabby rooming house, where she lost her final battle in 1886.

Doomed to a sad, lonely funeral by a society that had used her so thoroughly and then cast her aside, Cora's funeral was transformed into a fairy-tale event by a mysterious benefactor, who demanded of the funeral director the largest, most lavish burial that France had ever seen. Paying the director, he warned that he would have agents watching, and departed in haste, his guilt at having waited so long before helping Cora too much to bear. Cora's final party was indeed the funeral of the century for Paris, and Cora must have been smiling down from heaven to see this amazing tribute - for surely that is where she is. Cora Pearl was a woman who knew from the beginning that she had a gift to share with a needy world. It is the fortune of history that she was able to give so much, to so many, in so little time. She is an example to us all. 

(Written by Jeff Woloson)

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