Opening Night at the Moulin Rouge

Cold Open

It’s nearly 8 o’clock in the evening on October 6th, 1889.

A young artist stands in the middle of an excited crowd on Place Blanche, a small plaza in a suburb of Paris. He is waiting for the opening night of Montmartre’s newest open-air café; a place where singers and dancers perform and customers have the opportunity to wine and dine in comfort. The young artist has been looking forward to tonight’s grand opening for days. The new venue has been the talk of the town, in no small part because of the eye-catching structure located just above the cafe’s entrance: a large red windmill—or as it’s called in French, a Moulin Rouge.

The young artist pushes his way through the crowd as a nearby church bell tolls 8 o’clock. He reaches the front just as the Moulin Rouge opens its doors for the first time. The young artist pays his fee and walks through the entrance with a flood of customers behind him. The doorway leads into a garden. There, the young artist stops, staring in disbelief at a larger-than-life stucco model of an elephant.

The young artist’s eyes light up when he sees a scantily dressed woman standing underneath the model. She beckons to the artist, and cuts her eyes over to a doorway built into one of the elephant’s legs. But the young artist doesn’t go inside. He’s not certain, but he’s heard rumors that the belly of the elephant is an opium den where one can smoke for as little as a franc. But the artist isn’t here for drugs or women. He’s here for the show. 

He is jostled onwards by other customers pushing past him, keen to secure the best tables in the garden, with the best view of the stage. The artist joins them, and makes his way to a table near the front. 

As he takes his seat, a waitress bustles over to take his order. With a sheepish smile, the artist asks for a cheap glass of wine. He’d order something fancier, but he only has a few coins in his pocket. All around him, he hears wealthier gentlemen calling for bottles of champagne. But the young man isn’t too embarrassed. He’s just glad to be here, and grateful he has a decent view. About that time…

… an orchestra begins to play.  The young artist’s eyes light up with excitement. He and the rest of the crowd leap to their feet and erupt into applause. The first performance at the Moulin Rouge is about to begin. The young artist doesn’t know what to expect from this evening’s festivities. All he knows is that he feels like he’s part of something special. And that after tonight, the city of Paris will never be the same. 

When the Moulin Rouge opens its doors for the first time, construction is not yet complete. Among other unfinished touches, the venue is missing its crown jewel: an extravagant ballroom located right next door to the open air garden. Still, the opening night of the Moulin Rouge is a resounding success. Hundreds of wealthy Parisians sit side by side with artists and craftsmen who live and work in the bohemian, semi-rural suburb of Montmartre.

Soon, the Moulin Rouge will emerge as the most famous nightspot in Paris. Its name will become synonymous around the world with can-can, cabaret and controversial, risqué performers; a reputation the club began to earn when it opened its doors for the first time on October 6th, 1889.

Intro

From Noiser and Airship, I’m Lindsay Graham and this is History Daily.

History is made every day. On this podcast—every day—we tell the true stories of the people and events that shaped our world.

Today is October 6th, 1889: Opening Night at the Moulin Rouge

Act I

It’s the evening of October 26th, 1890, one year after the Moulin Rouge opened its doors.

A performer named Louise Weber stands at the side of the Moulin Rouge ballroom, waiting for the emcee to finish building up the audience's anticipation for her act. As the Moulin Rouge’s biggest star, Louise is used to making a spectacular entrance during each floor show. Normally, she isn’t nervous. But today, she’s about to perform for a man who is heir to the most powerful nation in the world: Edward, the Prince of Wales.

A few weeks after the grand opening, construction on the ballroom was finally complete. Now, after one year of business, the Moulin Rouge has developed a reputation for its spectacular, riotous concert balls. That’s in no small part thanks to Louise and her Chahuteuses— or the unruly girls—and their new dance, known as the can-can. This high-energy romp involves dancers in long, flowing skirts kicking their legs into the air repeatedly before falling to the ground and landing in the splits. The “can-can craze” has helped the Moulin Rouge sell tickets, and it’s turned the unruly girls into local celebrities. Louise Weber is the most famous of them all.

Still, Louise knows that for many conservative Parisians, the can can is all too shocking. It’s not as risque as what goes on inside Paris’ many brothels. But the sight of garters and ruffled undergarments is still highly controversial. Rumors abound that the powers that be in Paris might try to put the Moulin Rouge - and Louise - out of business. 

Tonight, Louise isn’t worried about offending the Prince of Wales. Like the rest of Paris, she knows all about the Prince’s playboy reputation; it’s quite a contrast to that of his dour mother, the stodgy Queen Victoria. But Louise is a smart woman. Making an impression on the Price would be good for business. She hopes to win him over with her vivacious routine. 

Louise’s ears prick up as she hears the emcee call her stage name: La Goulue, meaning the Glutton. Louise strides towards the dance floor and demonstrates the trick that earned her the name: she picks up a glass of wine from a customer’s table and downs it in one gulp. Louise hears the audience roar with laughter.

The dance floor is empty apart from Louise, but the tables and chairs surrounding it are packed with patrons eager to watch the Moulin Rouge’s headline performer. But there’s only one patron Louise is thinking about tonight. She cuts her eyes over to the table where the 48-year-old Prince, Edward, sits with his friends. 

Soon, the orchestra starts to play an upbeat tune and Louise begins to dance in the middle of the floor. As the music picks up speed, Louise lifts her skirt, allowing her straight-leg kicks to reach above her head. She drops to the ground in the splits—one leg in front of her, the other behind—before leaping back up to her feet, jumping and kicking in time with the music. She even cartwheels across the dancefloor. The audience claps along, cheering every high kick and low split.

Louise continues to dance as the rest of the Moulin Rouge can-can dancers join her on the dancefloor. Louise drops to the floor in the splits and the rest of the troupe follow in sequence, each dancer’s splits marked by the clash of cymbals from the orchestra. The dancers rise up and turn to face the middle of the dancefloor. Then they bend over, pulling their skirts over their heads while wiggling their derrieres suggestively at the audience. The audience cheers every move. Louise is thrilled that they are loving the show.

Louise and the dancers form a circle and whirl around, lifting their skirts and kicking their legs in time to the music. Louise’s billowing skirt brushes the tables at the edge of the dancefloor. As she approaches the table where the Prince of Wales is watching the show, she kicks even higher and shouts, “Hey Wales! The champagne’s on you!”

In the stuffy courts of Britain, it would be a stunning breach of etiquette to speak to the heir to the throne in such a disrespectful way. But in the Moulin Rouge, where the upper classes rub shoulders with the lower classes, those rules don’t apply. Louise whirls onwards and glances back. The Prince and his friends are laughing. Once again, Louise has proven why she is the star of the Moulin Rouge. And the Prince of Wales is delighted. He leaves with a smile on his face, ready to tell the “who’s who” of Paris about this “can’t miss” experience. 

The Prince of Wales’ visit gives the Moulin Rouge a royal seal of approval, even as the Moulin Rouge’s performers and patrons push the boundaries of socially acceptable behavior. But as time goes on, the venue’s increasingly boundary-pushing offerings will draw even more attention—until one particular performance is so provocative that it ends in a riot.

Act II

It’s quarter to eleven on the evening of January 3rd, 1907, 17 years after the Moulin Rouge opened its doors.

Tonight, an old man shuffles uneasily in his seat as a hush descends over the crowd in the Moulin Rouge. The old man isn’t here to enjoy the show. He’s joined a group of his fellow Parisians here to protest this evening’s performance.

In 1903, the owners of the Moulin Rouge converted the ballroom into a cabaret hall. After the shift, the venue’s offerings grew increasingly more scandalous - by the standards of the time. Dancers, singers and actors take part in extravagant burlesque shows that are often lowbrow. One performer, Joseph Pujol, goes by the stage name Le Pétomane. He specializes in breaking wind at will. He uses his unusual talent to blow out candles and even play the French national anthem from his backside. At a recent private party at the Moulin Rouge, students from the National School of Fine Arts allegedly stripped down naked and cavorted around the stage. But to the Old Man, none of that compares to what he’s heard about tonight’s show. Part of tonight’s billing is a 20-minute play that the old man has been told includes women dressing up as men and kissing each other - a scandal he thinks goes too far, even for the Moulin Rouge.

Soon, the curtain rises and the old man sees an ancient-looking sarcophagus on one side of the stage, and an actor in a brown suit reading a book on the other. The old man squints to get a better look. When his aging eyes focus, he sees that the rumors he’s heard are true. The person in the suit is a woman with short hair - Mathilde de Morny, the controversial author of this play.

The old man and his fellow protestors begin to whistle, heckle and jeer, trying to drown out the sound of Mathilde’s words. But she continues to recite her lines. Someone starts a chant, ordering Mathilde to get off the stage. The old man enthusiastically joins in. He stamps his feet to the rhythm of the chant as it grows louder. The sound echoes around the packed auditorium. Nobody can hear a word of the show, but regardless, Mathilde continues the performance.

Soon, the sarcophagus opens and a mummy slowly emerges, dancing erotically and shedding bandages to reveal a woman in an Egyptian headdress and jeweled underwear. It’s Sidonie-Gabrielle Colette, a penniless author turned burlesque performer. The old man has read about Colette in the Parisian newspapers. The gossip rags say that both Colette and Mathilde have left their husbands and are now in an intimate relationship.

The old man sees a woman on the front row fling an old turnip onto the stage. It lands at Colette’s feet, but she just brushes it out of the way with her foot and continues dancing. It’s a signal for other protestors to do the same. Soon, fruit and vegetables litter the stage as other patrons fling items they have hidden under their coats. But again, the two women press on with the show.

The old man watches in disbelief as the play reaches its shocking climax. Mathilde bends down and kisses Colette. The old man thinks that Mathilde playing a male role is scandalous enough - but the sight of two women kissing on stage is simply too much for him to bear. And he’s not alone. As the women passionately kiss, furious shouts fill the air.

But not everyone in the audience is angry at what’s happening on stage. Some are angry that the show is being interrupted. One of these patrons - a well-dressed gentleman in a private box - stands and shakes his fist, cursing at the hecklers for ruining the beautiful piece of art. The old man can’t hear what the patron is shouting. His words are drowned out in the uproar from the hecklers in the crowd. Some of them make their way up to his box, storm inside, and throw him to the ground to silence him. 

Soon, the entire place breaks out in violence. In the midst of the chaos, the old man hears a high-pitched whistle. Police officers rush into the theater and begin pulling people out, ejecting them from the Moulin Rouge.

Despite the riot, Colette returns to perform the show the following night - this time with a male actor in Mathilde’s place. But hecklers interrupt the show again and the theater owners are forced to drop it from the bill. But the riot will make headlines across Europe, further establishing the Moulin Rouge’s reputation for pushing the boundaries of acceptability.

In the end, it won’t be a riot that takes down the Moulin Rouge, but rather an accidental electrical fire that threatens to close the doors of Paris’s most infamous night club for good.  

Act III

It’s five o’clock in the morning in Montmartre, on February 27th, 1915, 25 years after the Moulin Rouge opened.

Marcel Sembat, the French Minister of Public Works, rises from his bed. Although it’s a Saturday, Marcel is used to early starts and long work days, even on the weekend. He walks to the window and opens the curtains. Immediately, he knows something isn’t right. He can smell burning. He peers through the window into the predawn darkness and can just make out smoke drifting past the glass. Marcel runs downstairs and out into the streets. There, just five doors down, he sees flames devouring the Moulin Rouge.

Marcel calls for help. And soon, the police arrive on the scene. Marcel stands on the opposite side of the street and watches helplessly as flames burst from the Moulin Rouge roof and spread to a shop and artist’s studio next-door. He pleads with the police to extinguish the blaze before the flames reach his own house. Firefighters use 15 hoses to douse the Moulin Rouge and, slowly but surely, the flames die down. By 8 o’clock, three hours after Marcel first raised the alarm, the fire is finally contained.

When the police declare it safe, Marcel picks his way through the Moulin Rouge’s entrance. The famous red windmill has survived the fire, albeit blackened by the smoke. When Marcel walks into the cabaret hall, he gasps at the pitiful sight before him. The once dazzling and iconic venue is a mess of charred brick and buckled metal. The roof has collapsed and the auditorium is exposed to the elements. 

Yet the racy can-can and risqué cabaret of the notorious nightspot is not forgotten. In 1921, seven years after the fire, the Moulin Rouge is rebuilt and reopened, and its new iteration draws performers and customers from around the world. Although originally built to entertain the artists of Montmartre, the legendary decadence and excess of the Moulin Rouge inspires its own stories and works of art, from the paintings of Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec and Vincent Van Gogh to Hollywood movies and a musical currently running on Broadway.

The nightclub was a place that pushed boundaries, welcomed controversy, and always put on a good show, beginning when the Moulin Rouge opened its doors for the first time on October 6th, 1889.

Outro

Next on History Daily. October 7th, 1915. During World War One, British nurse Edith Cavell is put on trial for treason for helping hundreds of wounded Allied soldiers escape German territory. 

CTA and Credits

From Noiser and Airship, this is History Daily, hosted, edited, and executive produced by me, Lindsay Graham.

•     Audio editing by Mollie Baack.
•     Audio editing and sound design by Mollie Baack
•     Sound design by Derek Behrens.
•     Sound design by Mischa Stanton
•     Music and sound design by Lindsay Graham

Music by Lindsay Graham. This episode is written and researched by Scott Reeves. Executive Producers are Steven Walters for Airship, and Pascal Hughes for Noiser.