Cremorne is a great place for rows between the women and the fast young men who attend the amusements there. While promenading around the Dancing Ring one evening, I noticed a crowd gathering, and heard a female voice uttering screams of distress. The young lady with the unearthly voice I ascertained was a habitue of the place, known as "Mad Rose," and the offending biped was a certain fast baronet named Sir Frederick Johnstone, who has since figured in the Mordaunt Divorce Suit.
A ROW AT CREMORNE.
It seems that this "Mad Rose" had been at one time under the baronet's protection, and the afternoon before the rencontre he had met her in the Park, and passed her without recognition, although she sought it from him. She was determined to have her revenge for this, besides some old scores she had to settle with him; or it was that he had not settled some old scores with her.
The girl was tall, elegantly shaped, and dressed in a tasteful and rich manner, becoming her blonde hair and complexion. Seeing the baronet with his friends, she stepped up to him, and singling him out, struck him across the face with her gloved hand, which was glittering with diamonds.
A ROW AT CREMORNE.
Then she uttered a scream of feminine distress, and a crowd of swells gathered around her. Then she knocked off his hat and screamed again. The baronet uttered no remonstrance, but backed up against a railing, his hat lying on the ground. Attempting to pick it up, she knocked it off again and screamed. This thing went on for the space of ten minutes, the girl, in a passion—whether fictitious or not, I cannot tell—slapping the exquisite in the face at intervals, knocking off his hat and screaming, but not forgetting to pour volleys of abuse upon the baronet's head in the meanwhile. A great crowd collected and enjoyed the fun. But I noticed that not a man in the assemblage offered to interfere, and the baronet's friends refused to molest her, with the exception of one, who caught hold of her wrists, and he had to let go his hold of her in an instant, as he was attacked in a body by the other girls, who put him to flight immediately. The baronet begged for mercy, but got none; and, finally, a grand charge was made on the crowd by the Cremorne police, and it was dispersed.
This movement relieved the baronet from further persecution, and the mad woman was taken away. One fact was noticeable—not a man in the crowd even attempted to raise his hand to the girl during her repeated assaults. Had it been in America, I am certain she would, under such circumstances, have met with very rough, if not brutal treatment.