LETTER LIII
Saturday, May 25, 1850
In my last Letter I commenced an account of the street performers and
showmen. There are a large class of individuals, I said, who obtain their living
in the open air. Some sell something - others perform or show something - others
do something (as sweep crossings, deliver bills, hold horses, carry boards,
&c.) - and others, again, mend or make something - by way of gaining a
subsistence. The first are Hucksters, or street tradesmen; the second are
Mountebanks, or street performers; the third Working Pedlars, or
street artisans; and the fourth, street Labourers or Jobbers.
The Mountebanks appear to arrange themselves into five
classes, viz. - the street performers, or exhibitors of puppet shows, peep
shows, feats of strength and sleight of hand, and trained animals, together with
dancers and musicians. I have already given an account of the puppet shows. In
my present Letter I purpose describing the condition and earnings of the street
performers of feats of strength and manual dexterity.
These consist of many distinct varieties. First, there are
the "Acrobats," or posturers; second, the "Equilibrists," or
balancers; third, the "stiff" and "bending" tumblers;
fourth, the jugglers; fifth, the conjurors; and sixth, the sword swallowers, and
"salamanders" or fire-eaters. Each of these is generally a distinct
branch of the "profession," requiring a separate education; in some
cases, the same individual will combine in himself two or three of the different
"lines," but this is by no means usual. A stiff and bending tumbler is
a very distinct character from either an equilibrist or a conjuror; in the one
the muscles of the back and limbs have been educated, whereas, in the others,
the eye and hand have acquired especial quickness from long practice and
training. Indeed, the essential difference between the several branches of these
arts appears to be in the cultivation of a different set of muscles or organs.
In the sword-swallower, the throat - in the equilibrist, the eye - in the
tumbler, the back and limbs - and in the conjuror, the hands - have been trained
to the performance of feats that to uneducated muscles are utterly impossible.
The marvel lies not so much in what the performers do, as it does in what first
led them to adopt so strange a means of subsistence, and why they should
continue to pursue a calling in which the perils are so great, and the gains so
limited and uncertain. To see a man bend backwards, and pick up pins from the
ground with his eyes - to behold another balance the heaviest and lightest
substances on his chin - now a donkey and then the ashes of a burnt paper bag -
to witness another swallow swords and live snakes, and all for the sake of a few
pence -- is wonderful enough; but surely it is more wonderful still to think
what could have originally induced these people to give up the ordinary means of
subsistence, and adopt a mode of life which appears to require a longer
apprenticeship than the common handicrafts, and after all to yield a far more
precarious support. The explanation is to be found partly in that love of the
marvellous, and of exciting admiration, which is more or less innate with us
all, and partly - or rather principally - in the irksomeness of labour, as well
as the incapacity for steady and continuous employment, which appears to be a
distinctive feature of the vagabond class. It is this irksomeness of labour and
this indisposition for any settled occupation, together with a love of novelty
and amusement, and an objection to restraint (all of which are implied in the
desire for "a roving life" of which the class themselves so often
speak), which, as I have before pointed out, constitute the main characteristics
of the vagrants and hucksters; and that similar tastes and propensities are
among the most notable traits in the moral physiognomy of the beggars and
criminals, we shall see when I come to treat of them specially. Another of the
main causes of the prevalence of street performers and street tradesmen, is to
be found not only in the irksomeness of labour, but in the small remuneration to
be obtained from many industrial occupations. Costermongering is easier work -
and far more profitable, even now, overstocked as the business appears to be -
than tolling at any handicraft; and juggling, conjuring, balancing, posturing,
and even sword-swallowing, with all their attendant perils and casualties, are
better than starving by the sweat of the brow. The sword-swallower whom I saw
assured me that he had tried to get his bread by slipper-making for some two or
three years; but as he could only obtain 3s. 6d. a dozen from the slop-sellers,
and out of this he had to give 1s. 6d. for materials, and could make only 6s. a
week at it, he was obliged to return to swallowing swords and snakes, and eating
fire in the streets, as a means of getting something more substantial for his
family to swallow and eat at home.
The habits and character of the street performers of feats
and strength and dexterity present some curious moral and social phenomena, and
they are the more curious as the posturers, balancers, conjurors, jugglers, and
others who may be considered as the "skilled labourers" of the
streets, represent their calling as "dying out." I have met with few
old men among street performers, and the class generally seem to look on fifty
as a great age. "The original Billy Barlow" (a kind of street clown or
fool), said one man to me, "died quite an old man in St. Giles's workhouse
- I dare say he was fifty." The prevailing age among street performers
appears to be from eighteen to thirty, which I have before shown is the vagabond
period of life. Among the whole class I observed two characteristics -
intelligence and poverty. By intelligence, I mean that quickness of perception
which is commonly called "cunning," a readiness of expression, and a
familiarity (more or less) with the topics of the day - the latter picked up
probably in public-houses. I found very few of the class unable to read and
write; they were naturally quick, and among the whole body there was little of
what is understood as vulgar manners. In some few instances I discovered a taste
for reading, and almost all expressed a strong desire to leave the streets for
some more reputable and certain livelihood. The poverty of many of these people
- even of the more skilful - is great, and in some few cases extreme. It is the
more irksome too, as most of them have known what they call "better
times," by which they naturally mean better earnings. One of the most
dexterous of the street conjurors - and that in the opinion of "the
profession" - is very poor, and living in a wretched place. His landlady, a
tidy, well-behaved woman, gave me (not knowing who I was) an excellent character
of her lodger - a single man. He was very quiet, she said, and not irregular in
his habits. This poverty is doubly injurious to the street performers, as, from
the nature of their "profession," they have necessarily acquired a
habit of begging, and it makes them even more servile and importunate for money
where there is any expression of sympathy than they might otherwise be. With one
or two exceptions, the class seem to have lost all pride of independence, and to
consent to subsist on the "generosity" of others, without the least
sense of shame. But if they are deficient in pride, they assuredly make it up in
vanity - for, according to their own accounts, they are one and all the best and
only regular performers in their respective lines. One of the poorest men that I
met with seemed to be one of the most deserving. He lived with his family in a
small room, and was indignant at the supposition of its being a common
lodging-house. The furniture was a turn-up bed, one table, and two chairs, both
of the chairs being without bottoms, where rags and fragments of old clothes
were so disposed about the framework as to give the semblance of a seat. Above
and upon the poor man's mantelpiece was a profusion of small pictures and common
china ornaments (his notion of the beautiful), among which his crucifix (for he
was a Roman Catholic) was not wanting; and his small German pipe - "his
pipe," he said, "was often a meal to him" - held a conspicuous
position. The same improvidence - which is the invariable concomitant of every
kind of labour that is uncertain - prevails among this class as among all
others where the income is of a precarious character.
The street performers do not appear to be habitually
intemperate. That they indulge in those excesses which great gains at uncertain
periods naturally engender, they themselves allow; but they seem rather to have
a habit than a love of drinking. Indeed it is a peculiar feature
in the character of the vagrant class that they generally exhibit little taste
for fermented liquors. They are libidinous, but not drunken - and this is to be
accounted for, in most cases, by the comparatively youthful age to which the
vagabond period of life is confined. Drunkenness is the vice of the old rather
than the young. The intemperance of the street performers is more acquired than
natural, being begotten not only by the love of excess which comes of excessive
gain, but by the sociality of their natures, and that "love of
company" which is the ordinary concomitant of a desire for approbation. The
public tap-room is the arena for display with such people as much as the public
streets. Again, it is usual for the performers to put on their street costumes
in public-houses, for which accommodation a certain amount of drink is expected
to be taken, as well as to dine in such places, and to retire thither during wet
weather; so that, after discovering the many inducements that there are among
the class to drink, a stranger is struck with the little intoxication that is to
be found among them. The older members of the profession certainly appear to
have acquired habits of drinking; but speaking of the street performers
generally, I must say they seem to be far less intemperate than labouring
people. Improvidence appears to be their great failing. Let them make what they
will in the summer, it is all squandered as soon as got, and they starve in the
winter. Let their gains be as large as they may in their youth, not one penny is
laid by, and they die in the workhouse in their old age.
Some performers, it will be seen, have been "regularly
born and bred" to the street business, while others have been brought up to
handicrafts, but preferred a "roving life" to a settled occupation.
Some, again, it will be found, have, according to their own statements, been
forced into the streets by harsh treatment at home. "Their home," to
use their own words, "was no home to them." It should be remembered,
however, that one of the most marked characteristics of the vagrant class is an
objection to control, so that such people are likely to look upon the mildest
form of domestic government as positive tyranny. I do not mean to imply that the
severity of parents has not driven many a youth to resort to a vagabond life,
who might, with kind conduct, have been brought up to some reputable calling;
but, in many cases, I believe that the love of amusement and the irkesomeness of
restraint are so strong in these individuals, that they desire greater liberty
and licence than is consistent with parental care, while they are so
"self-willed" that they are ready on every occasion to rebel at
authority, and to leave their homes whenever any attempt is made to control
them.
A tall, stalwart young man, dressed in a faded blue surtout
and trousers patched at the knees, beneath which he wore the elastic cotton
dress, with short spangled velvet drawers, that constitutes the ordinary street
costume of the class, gave me the following account as to the calling of an "Acrobat,"
or posturer. He was of ready speech, good manners, and almost
respectable in his appearance: -
"I am the son of a man moving in a superior sphere of
life to mine. I left home to follow my fancy for a public life, though it was
partly compulsion, as my home was no home. I took to the nigger business at
first - about eight years ago, but not in any band of niggers. I began not long
after Jem Crow came out, and before there were any Ethiopian serenaders. It was
pretty good then, but it's turned about and wheeled about backwards since that
time. I have long wished to leave public life, and wish it still more now, for I
have a wife and child; and I would leave it too, if I could get anything
better to do - but half a loaf' you know, sir. I have no ambition to stop in it.
After my coming out as a street nigger I was a balancer. This I acquired by
practice, and after that I picked up balancing with the pole. I was never taught
anything in my life. I picked every thing up by practice and assiduity. I
balance the pole sometimes now. I lie on my back in the streets (the streets and
fine weather is all I have to depend upon) with a cushion under my loins, and I
balance and dance the pole with my feet. It's called 'pole-dancing.' It's very
hard work to the muscles, and trying to the nerves. I learned pole-dancing, or
rather perfected myself in it, in private, after twelve months' pains, at
Bristol. I had often a rap on the head, while learning, by the pole's falling,
and it will slip occasionally still with the best feet, though I flatter
myself, that I can perform it, with any man in England. I joined the acrobats
three or four years ago. I make my pole performance part of our acrobat
business. It's done generally to 'keep the pitch up,' as we term it, that is to
keep the people together until we can get ha'pence from them. We have six in our
company of acrobats, including a boy. The man who stands at the bottom is called
'the bearer,' and is generally a strong man; but there's as much
tact as strength in his part of the business. Another man jumps upon his
shoulders and is called 'the second.' I am a second (and
occasionally a bearer, too). The man who stands on the second's shoulder is
called 'the top-mounter.' He gets first on the shoulder of the
bearer, and so up to the back of the second, then he takes hold of the second's
left hand and raises himself up to stand on the second's shoulders - each
assists the other. As the top-mounter leans or inclines, the bearer walks
forward - he must follow the inclining of the top-mounter as he feels it
communicated to him by the second, who just projects his chest a little, the
slightest motion is sufficient. If he (the bearer) did not move on we should all
come down together - nothing could prevent it. He must bend forward, for we who
are up above use our shins and legs as stays against the bearer's or second's
heads, and if there be any backward movement the bearer loses his command over
the men upon him. Sometimes there is a fall; I once was hurt from one. I never
knew any one killed in the acrobat performance, but a young performer has broken
his arm twice by falling as an acrobat. Accidents, though are not common, and we
have ways of saving ourselves by a cat-like agility. If the top-mounter finds he
is falling by leaning too far forward, he must jump down. He says 'go,' and the
second puts his hand up to help the top man in the jump. If he lights on the
ball of his foot there is no great hurt, but come down flat-footed and your
foot's jarred all to pieces. Learners generally practise at a place in -----,
St. Pancras, where they form a 'school.' Sunday mornings is the chief time. In
practising there are terrible falls sometimes. There is no particular tuition.
Young men have a turn for it and try it one with another. All classes and all
grades are in the profession, but the general of us have been pretty well
educated.I don't know a dishonest man among us. We ought of all men to be
temperate; but still some of us drink hard. I don't care about drink myself, but
men pick up a taste for it by being treated when performing at public houses. I
felt rather nervous the first time I was 'a second' in public, for fear of
'making a mull of it' (a slip in private's nothing). I got through very well
though. I once left off acrobating for six weeks. On rejoining the acrobats as a
second I was too confident the first time, and slipped; the 'top mounter' was
thrown down and slightly hurt. There are now thirteen acrobats in London, and
two London schools' numbering four or five each, are in the country and
Scotland. We generally know where one another is, by letters to wives and such
like. The West-end is the best for acrobating in the London season of fashion -
the summer; but it's an aggravating place often, for we have got only 2d.
for a performance, and some few times nothing. Gentlemen have looked on and
walked away without giving a farthing. In the other parts of the year the
East-end is the best. Mechanics are our best friends - indeed our principal
dependence. We, that is all the 'school,' share alike. I said there were six
persons in our company - but besides these, who are all posturers, there is the
musician and a negro singer and dancer. Thirty shillings a week is the most
lever got for my share, and that was in the height of summer when the days are
longest; but take the year through, we acrobats can't make 12s. a week a piece,
and out of that, too, we must find our dresses for performing in. It costs us
1s. a week for our pumps: our dresses are a close suit of elastic wove cotton;
they cost generally 8s. 6d. We usually have a deep girdle round our waists, and
a fillet of spangled velvet round our heads. Some have their dresses dyed
flesh-colour - but that I hate; it looks so much like nudity that, on a sudden,
it might startle any one. I have been well educated, and should like to get out
of such a business; it is as disagreeable to me as it is dangerous. My wife has
to work with her needle to help to keep the family - but what can a woman earn
that way, when there are so many slop shops? The acrobats, and people of that
class, differ perhaps in their tastes from ordinary mechanics. We have some very
intellectual men among us. I've travelled with one young man, who was what I
call 'a fanatic' for Shakespeare. He is the son of a tradesman. On our way into
the country in an acrobat school, he used always to carry Mansell's penny
Shakespeare, and he and I would recite Othello and Iago and suchlike, to while
away the time on the road, and in our lodgings. My pipe, however, is my chief
solace, for I can't get books enough to read though I pick up a twopenny volume
at a stall now and then. I've exhausted all my neighbours' libraries, too, but
that was soon done. The best of the acrobats are fondest of theatricals by way
of amusement - a good tragedian, or a comedian - when there's a shilling in the
locker. Acrobats sometimes get into theatres, and are sprites, and even
harlequins. (He mentioned some.) The dull fellows of Acrobats - and there are
such - have no amusements out of a public house. Our living is generally a meat
dinner in summer, when performing. Against my will, beer and and dinner have
cost me far more, when out performing, than I have had to take home to my
family. Only four acrobats (including myself) are, I believe, legally married.
Our wives are all compelled to work at something. One man's wife earns 6s. - as
a 'topper' in the shirt business, and that is a great help. Among the acrobats
that I know some have been glass-cutters, hod-carriers, errand boys, shoemakers,
and paper block cutters, before taking to the street business. I can hardly say
what the others were. We all have an inkling of shoemaking, because we have to
mend our own shoes. I consider all are acrobats who stand on each others'
shoulders. The acrobats are generally tumblers or posturers as well. A tumbler
is one who throws somersaults, headsprings, fore-springs, lion's leaps, and such
like. A posturer is a man who puts his leg behind his head, or does what we call
'the frog;' namely, he puts his two legs over his shoulders, and hops along on
his hands; some posturers put their legs behind their backs down to their hips;
they are what we term limp posturers. The tumblers are either stiff or bending
tumblers. The stiff tumbler performs such feats as I have described, as
somersaults, head springs, lion's leaps, and such like. The bending tumbler is
one who can bend his head back down to his feet and pick up a sixpence, or such
like. We have a man with our school whose body seems all joints and bendable
everywhere; he fairly sits on his own head, bringing it down his back, his chin
resting on the ground, and he looks out from between the top of his thighs. A
juggler I consider a man who balances plates, throws balls, and feats of that
kind; whereas a conjuror is a man who performs tricks of deception by
sleight-of-hand, changing cards, coins, and so on. The acrobats don't reside in
any particular part of the town - perhaps no body of men are more equally
distributed through London. We settle over night where we are to meet next day -
always with the uncomfortable proviso, weather permitting. I have read the
letters in the Morning Chronicle on the costermongers. My lot once led me
to live among that class, and the accounts I saw of them were perfectly true. I
should like to emigrate to Australia, where I could get on by perseverance, for
I have plenty of that. I wouldn't be an acrobat there, of course, but a labourer
of some description. I should like it, but cannot even get on to the first step
of the ladder. My wife also wishes to emigrate; but what's the use of such
people as us wishing?"
A little boy, with an inanimate look, large sleepy eyes, and
very high shoulders, so that he looked almost deformed, gave me the subjoined
account: -
"I was twelve years old last March, and play with the
acrobats. I have done so for the last three years. I stand on the hands of the
'top mounter,' who holds my feet and throws me about, catching me." (The
'second' here showed the way, even with the boy's thick shoes on, showing great
agility, and a very quick eye). "I was frightened at first," continued
the lad, "but never am now. My father is dead. My mother - she has five of
us - put me to this business. I'm allowed 1s. a day when performing, and get my
dinner with the men. My master takes the money to keep and clothe me. I am very
kindly treated. I'd sooner be a trade than this line of life, but if I am to be
a tumbler, why I must stick to it; so I practise a few tricks now and then, and
try to do something new, I was never let fall in performing so to be hurt. I am
the only boy, except one, who plays with the street acrobats."
The next class of street performers are the tumblers. The man
whom I saw had a quiet pleasant look and manner, but he was in no way remarkable
for muscular development. He had, however, a very graceful bend in the back, and
was exceedingly well proportioned, though short. He was dressed like a mechanic
on a Sunday.
"I am a tumbler - a stiff tumbler and a
bending tumbler too," he said. "I have been in this business since
I was two years of age. My father was in the profession, and was my teacher. I
tumbled at two years old, and have followed it until now, which is twenty-six
years. I was compelled to tumble when a child, but my father wasn't cruel to me.
He took up the trade of tumbling; he had been a soldier, a silversmith, and a
shoemaker, before he became a tumbler. At two years I used to bend back and pick
up pins with my eyes - four pins - and then drop them one by one. I do that
still. It wasn't very painful to learn this, but I had the headache often, and
my nose used to bleed. I used to tremble a good deal when doing it as a child,
and sol do now if I leave it off and begin it again. As I grew up I learned
other tricks. I can stand on my head, and walk round my head with my legs, while
I keep my head standing still. It required a great deal of practice for me to
get that perfect - two months perhaps - when I was seven or eight years old.
it's a laborious thing, but not painful. We must begin tumbling young, before
the bones get set. I can walk along on my elbows, with my legs over my head;
it's not painful to me, but it would be to others. I learned that when I was 12
or 13. I have been in this trade all my life, and a very bad trade it is. Some
days I may take 6d., somedays 1s., some 1s. 6d.,and the best day's work I ever
had was 10s.; but its all casualty, and depends greatly on the weather. I have
taken as low as 1½d. A fine day like this I might make 7s. or 8s., with luck,
in the streets; but on wet days I can do nothing but at the public-houses, and
public-house work is very bad indeed. In summer the nights are very short, and
night's the only time for tavern tumbling. In one public-house I was stooping
back to pick up the pins with my eyelids, and a fellow, half drunk, kicked me,
and the pins stuck about my eyes, and it's a mercy I wasn't blinded. I've had
gin flung in my eyes, and snuff, and have been subjected to every kind of
insult, perhaps for no money at all, when I've asked leave for a to perform in
the tap-room, and had it granted me. Sometimes I'm refused leave in a
public-house and sometimes I'm kicked out of it. The street's the best for
money, but there the boys heave stones at you, and the policemen order you on,
and go you must. I do the best in the West-end streets-one's about as good as
another, if it's only quiet. Regent-street's too busy; Portland-place is pretty
good; and so is Grosvenor-square and the squares generally, but we're not often
allowed to perform in them. Gentlefolk, both male and female, are my best
patrons; the ladies are best generally. I'm never sent for to perform as Punch
is. I don't go to any saloons to perform, but I go to fairs. Country is
generally better than town for me, but only in summer. Some parts of the City
are not so bad; but I'm only allowed in the back streets, such as
Bartholomew-close and them places. I believe there are only two other men in
London who are of the same profession as myself, a bending and a stiff tumbler
at once; they're almost all posturers now, which is easier work. I suppose those
two men average what I do, which may be 15s. a week the year through, and that's
very little, because I find my own dresses, which come expensive. My dress is
made of elastic cotton; it costs me 6s. 6d. or 7s. One dress lasts only six or
seven weeks. In bending and tumbling it's strained all to pieces. I want to get
out of this line of life, and get into shoemaking, of which I do know a little.
To know how to make shoes well is better than all the tricks I know, for the
profession is very bad. I owe a man 10s. for giving me instructions in making
children's shoes, and I'm improving very much in the trade. Tumbling strains
every nerve in the body. I ought to know what it does, for I can manage all
these tricks: - I can walk on my hands; jump on my hands, nine feet in three
jumps; put a penny under my toe, bend back and pick it up with my mouth without
putting my hands to the ground; bend my body body back and pick up four pins
with my eyes. I can do lion's leaps, that's to jump over chairs like a cat,
pitching on my hands and going on; I can bend backwards and bring my head and
feet into a tea saucer; do head springs, or go on my head and turn over without
using my hands. That's about all. I can't tell which trick is most admired, for
I do them all at one performance, leaving the walking round my head to the last.
I am a married man. My wife is a shoe-binder. I have no children; and if I had I
wouldn't like to bring them up to be tumblers. I nearly always play by myself,
but I have played with Jim Crows and Highland fling and hornpipe dancers, and
jugglers too. We all shared alike, but I do best by myself. I am very strong in
the back, and in the muscles of my leg and thigh, but I have never tried all my
strength." This man showed me one of his headsprings; he ran along for a
few yards and then threw himself violently on his head, and so turned "head
over heels" without using his hands. The fore part of the skull had a large
callous lump on it, induced by the repeated performance of this trick. After
this he stuck four pins upright in the carpet, two close together in one place,
and two more about four inches from the others. He then stood with his back
towards the pins, about two or three feet from them, and bending backwards
brought his head gradually down to the ground, when he removed the pins from the
floor by closing his eyelids. Then he raised himself slowly up, and advancing
towards the table, with his eyelids still grasping the pins, he shook them one
by one from his eyes. His next feat was to run round his head, his neck
appearing to serve as a pivot on which his body turned, and he literally
flinging his trunk round his head very rapidly. The sights were all painful
enough, but done very deftly. He stated, however, that he was out of practice,
neither was he in proper costume.
Concerning the Street equilibrists or balancers, a spare
wiry-looking man, and with an appearance of anything rather than surpassing
strength in his body, stated the following: -
"My father was an equestrian and brought me up to his
business, but my ancles failed me eight years back from somersaulting, &c. I
then took to the equilibrist line. I fulled 40 years old. I liked
equestrianing. I knew Ducrow, and know Mr. Batty and others in the business, and
have performed in Belgium and France. I have been an equilibrist for eight years
now, playing in the open air or in-doors. I am a slack wire dancer as well. As
an equilibrist I balance poles and an 18-foot deal plank on my chin. Formerly I
balanced a donkey on the top of a ladder. It's dreadfully hard work; it pulls
you all to pieces. Over 30 years of age you feel it more and more. The donkey
was strapped tight to the ladder; there was no training needed for the donkey;
any young donkey would do. It was frightening at first generally, but got
accustomed to it after a time - use is a great thing. The papers attacked the
performance and I was taken to Union-hall for balancing by donkey in the
streets. I was fined 7s. 6d., and they kept the donkey in default. I never let
the donkey fall, and always put it down gently, for I have the use of my hands
in that feat. I was the original of the saying, sir. Twopence more, and up goes
the donkey. It's a saying still, and a part of the language now. I sometimes
stand on my head on the top of a pole, without the assistance of my hands, and
drink a glass of ale in that position, and go through all sorts of postures
while on my head. It's more tiring than painful. I've fallen off the pole, for
sometimes I'm nervous; when I'm performing, I dare only take one glass of
spirits and water. When I fell, I always lighted on my legs, though not so as to
make it appear part of the performance - one can't. On the slack-wire I perform
all kinds of balancing, spinning plates on sticks, and such like, and I stand on
my head on the wire at full swing, holding it in my hands. The wire has broken
with me - it was rusty. I fell, and dislocated my hip; that was at Epping. It's
dangerous work. I think that I'm the only man now in London who is an
equilibrist and slack-wire dancer, and there is only one in the country in my
particular line. It's a bad trade; one day I may pick up 5s., that's a
first-rate day for street work. In bad weather I can do nothing. It's all a
casualty what I make. I couldn't undertake to depend upon 10s. 6d. a week if I
confined myself to out-door performances. My trade is a bad one, and badly paid;
and the jewels and spangles worn by performers like me are sort of mockery. We
are in general poor; and it's difficult to get a rise, or even to leave the
business, after you~ re once in it. When you're old you're like a worn-out
horse, reckoned fit for nothing." The man's arms and limbs were hard and
firm to the touch, though not remarkable for muscular development. He attributed
his success as an equibrilist more to art, or "a way of doing it,"
than to mere bodily strength. He showed me some of his lighter feats, blowing
from his mouth a piece of cinquefoil hay, and catching it on the balance,
upright on the chin, and balancing a piece of paper rolled up into a conical bag
(such as is used for moist sugar), which he placed alight on the bridge of his
nose, and there allowed it to burn to the bottom, after which he balanced the
black pile of ashes that remained with amazing dexterity - tossing them and
catching them upright without breaking them, in a manner that made one
positively wonder at the useless skill. He told me that he has balanced
fire-works and ships - the Cheseapeake and the Shannon, the Chesapeake blowing
up and burning close to his chin. Gentlefolks he thought his best friends, if he
had any best - but the City was perhaps as good as the West-end for
money. Grooms and "people about horses" were very fair customers.
The following account of a street juggler's business I had
from a grave looking man, of half dignified appearance both in face and figure,
and with long well-oiled locks that seemed to be got up expressly for public
display:
"I have been twenty-eight years in the profession of a
juggler. I was a plasterer born, as the saying is, and a citizen too, but family
circumstances, such as I'd rather not state, led me to form a connection with
old Mr. Saunders, the rider, a well-known mountebank. With Saunders's company I
juggled on stilts, both in town and country. I believe no man in England but me
ever juggled on stilts five feet high. When I started first I did well - most
excellent, and never knew what it was to want money. I dare say I made my £5
every week, full that, when I began. I performed on the stilts, with brass
balls, from one to five; throwing them up and down and catching them, like the
Indian juggler, only he did it from the ground, and I on my stilts. After the
brass balls, I threw large brass rings, catching them, and then linking them
together. Then I threw three large daggers, or rather from one to three, I have
thrown more, all round about my body, catching them as they came. I next took a
wooden pole, and on the top of it a wash hand basin - the pole was 7 feet high,
and on the top of the pole, still on my stilts, I kept the basin spinning round.
I kept to the stilts until six or seven years ago, doing pretty well. After the
stilts I performed on the ground, and now I carry a small box which stands on
four legs, and with it I'm mostly to be seen at the West-end. I perform out of
doors as well as at parties. The box is to hold my apparatus. In one of my
tricks I appear to eat a quantity of shavings, and draw them afterwards, in the
shape of an immense long barber's pole, out of my mouth. A little doll I make
appear and disappear from the folds of a cloak. I show the cloak to be empty,
and the next moment there's the doll in it. The shavings, the pole, and the doll
are generally called for, if I try anything else. These are my juggling feats;
as to conjuring, I do all sorts of things with cards. I make them do anything
but speak. I do chiefly the old tricks, such as the shavings, which are not
known in the toy-shops. These toy-shops, with their toy tricks, are the ruin of
us. I teach conjuring and juggling, and am a professor of legerdemain. I have no
pupils - worse luck. I had a natural turn for the profession myself, and didn't
require teaching. I perfected myself by study and practice. There are, I
believe, only eight persons whom I can rank with myself as regular professional
men in London; but toy-shops send out their own conjurors now, and the number of
chance conjurors - and they are half gamblers many of them - is uncertain. I
don't reckon them professionals. This time of the year is the best of my
seasons, but lean make nothing like what Iused. I've been ailing too, or else I
might make my £2 a week or even more, bad as it is. Private parties is a
casualty business. The winter time is my slack time, except about Christmas. I
juggled at Vauxhall in 1831, before the Queen. I find town the best for me, but
common hands do best in the country; the people are not up to the town mark
there. I've taught many an amateur conjuror, real gentlemen, who amuse their
friends that way; some of them take to it very kindly, others s1op it; but I
make them perfect conjurors if I can."
A red-faced man, with what is called a "professional
look," gave me the following account. He wore a black dress-coat that had
seen better days, and had much the appearance of a third or fourth rate actor:
"I have been thirty years a professor of
conjuring," he said, "and was regularly brought up to the profession.
My father was a sailor. I was seven years a clown to old Mr. Brown, known as
'the salt-box,' and known all over the world. He was the first Chinese shades
man, and used to take them about in a waggon. He died latterly, very poor.
Before Brown took to me I was destitute, and slept two nights in a cart. When I
left Brown, I joined a man named B-----, in the theatrical way, I doing the
conjuring for the concern. I then travelled five years professionally, on my own
account, in the country. I conjured both in the open air and in rooms, and have
conjured for ten years in the open air in London. When I first knew the trade it
was far better than it is now, a great deal. I could take 20s. a night, in a
London public house; now I can't make a living by my tricks, dogs and all, and
I'm the first dog breaker in England. There's been a wonderful deal of change in
the tricks. The old tricks were what I may call a little indelicate. The
amusements, generally, were more brutal in those days; so were our tricks, as
for instance cutting off a cock's head and putting it on again - that's done by
attaching a false head and neck as you swing the cock round, but one man used
actually to cut the cock's head off and have a facsimile live cock under
the table as a substitute - that's an expensive way; but the people see the bird
flutter and die, and they like that, or rather they did like it once.
Cups and balls were fashionable then; they're lost now; but I play them in an
improved manner. At present I'm the only man in all the profession can do it in
the style I do. I put three small potatoes, real potatoes, under three cups, and
conjure them into six good-sized balls, all brought to light under the cups when
lifted. (He showed me this trick, which was done with remarkable neatness.) The
egg bag was a popular trick then; bringing a number of eggs from an empty bag.
Frying pancakes in any one's hat was all the rage too at that time; frying them
over a lamp or a candle, bringing them out of the hat, and then showing that the
hat was perfectly clean within. The batter really goes into the hat, in an
apparatus which is whisked into it for the purpose, and the pancakes were eaten
by the company, and were made of good stuff. Cutting off a man's nose was common
then. A gentleman was asked to lend a conjuror his nose, and was placed in a
chair to have it cut off. The conjuror used a knife with a wire attached to the
middle round a vacant part of the blade, and this was pressed on the nose. The
conjuror first applied a cloth with rose pink on it, so that being removed, it
looked as if the nose were cut off, and a bloody mass remained. Afterwards the
conjuror drew the cloth over the face, wiped off the colouring, and the nose
appeared as before. I've often seen gentlemen put their fingers to their nose to
feel if it was all right, and that caused great laughter. We used to press the
nose with the wire as if there were a wound. Bringing a guinea-pig from under
the hat was an old trick. The guinea-pig was ready behind the conjuror, and was
got into the hat while some little tricks were being played with it. (He
illustrated this by conjuring a doll into a hat.) A cabbage was used when a
guinea-pig wasn't to be had. Conjuring now is revolutionised like other things.
People weren't so enlightened formerly, and easier tricks passed. Now producing
a bowl of gold fish from a shawl, and a quantity of bouquets from an empty hat
are the rage. The inexhaustible bottle has tubes in his sleeves, and other
contrivances, to have sufficient of any liquor wanted; some of the glasses are
prepared, too, asthe bottle contains only five compartments, four of which are
controlled by the fingers, and the fifth flows out naturally. In the palmy days
of conjurors I've had £4 a week at a saloon, and now many a week I can't make
more than 10s., both in the open air and the public-houses together. Money's a
thing not easy to be conjured, sir. The West-end's the best for the open air.
Leicester-square is pretty good; Grosvenor and Belgrave are no good - they're
not thoroughfares - you wouldn't get a penny in a day there. Oxford-street and
Piccadilly are pretty good. In open air conjuring children and women are small
benefit. Mechanics and tradespeople are our best friends in 'pitching,' as we
called it. One day I may get 3s.,or 4s.,or 5s.; next day almost nothing. I know
but a dozen professed street conjurors - pure conjurors - in England; five of
them are in London, and I believe that ten years ago there were three times as
many, not reckoning the numbers of people that practise conjuring whom we call
imposters, or 'shisers.' I break dogs to do conjurors' tricks." (He showed
me one which picked up cards out of a ring, in answer to questions; such as how
many days are in the week? The answer being a card with '7' marked on it. How
many gentlemen are in the room? How many ladies? and such like. The dog never
took a wrong answer.) "I have broken a dog in three days," he
continued, "but that dog took me three months, he's a spaniel, but I
believe one kind of dog is as tractable as another under a proper system. I've
known the stupidest dogs as they were reckoned make the best conjuring dogs.
I've broken at least 20. I perfect them by constant training, great petting, and
a little bit of the whip. The trade gets worse and worse, and I don't know what
it'll come to."
Concerning sword swallowing, I had the subjoined
narrative from a fat-faced man, with what may be called a first-rate clown's
look, and of grave manners. He and Ramo Samee are, I understand, the only sword
swallowers now living - and both are old men. Ramo Samee is the once famous
Indian juggler:
"I have been connected with the conjuring and tumbling
professions, and every branch of them for 46 years. I lost my mother when a
child, and my father was a carpenter, and allowed me to go with the tumblers. I
continued tumbling until my feet were knocked up. I tumbled twenty-three or
twenty-four years. It was never what you may call a good business, only a
living. I got £3 a week certainly, at onetime, and sometimes £4; but you had
to live up to it, or you were nothing thought of; that is to say, if you kept 'good
company.' Now there's not a living to be made in the trade. Six and twenty years
ago I began to practise sword swallowing against the celebrated Ramo Samee, who
was then getting £25 and £30 a week. I first practised with a cane, and found
it difficult to get the cane down. When I first did it with the cane, I thought
I was a dead man. There's an aperture in the chest which opens and shuts; and it
keeps opening and shutting, as I understand it; but I know nothing about what
they call anatomy, and never thought about such things. Well, if the cane or
sword go down upon this aperture when its shut, it can go no further, and the
pain is dreadful. If its open, the weapon can go through, the aperture closing
on the weapon. The first time I put down the cane, I got it back easily, but put
my head on the table and was very sick, vomiting dreadfully. I tried again the
same afternoon, however, three or four hours after, and did it without pain. I
did it two or three times more, and next day boldly tried it with a sword and
succeeded. The sword was blunt, and was 36 inches long, an inch wide, and
perhaps a sixth of an inch thick. I felt frightened with the cane, but not with
the sword. Before the sword was used, it was rubbed with a handkerchief and made
warm by friction. I swallowed swords for 14 years. At one time I used to swallow
three swords, a knife and two forks, of course keeping the handles in my mouth,
and having all the blades in my stomach together. I felt no pain. No doubt many
of the audience felt far more pain at seeing it than I in doing it. I wore a
Turkish dress both in the streets and the theatres. I never saw ladies faint at
my performance; no, there was no nonsense of that kind. Gentlemen often pulled
the swords and knives by their handles out of my mouth, to convince themselves
it was real, and they found it real, though people to this day generally believe
its not. I've sometimes seen people shudder at my performance, but I generally
had loud applause. I used to hold my head back with the swords in my stomach for
two or three minutes. I've had a guinea a day for sword-swallowing. This guinea
a day was only for a few days at fair times. I was with old 'salt-box' Brown
too, and swallowed swords and conjured with him. I swallowed swords with him
thirty times a day - more than one each time, sometimes three or four. I had a
third of the profits; Brown had two-thirds. We divided after all expenses were
paid. My third might have been 30s. a week, but it wouldn't be half as much now
if I could swallow swords still. If I could swallow a tea-kettle now the people
would hardly look at me. Sometimes - indeed a great many times - say twenty - I
have brought up oysters out of my stomach after eating them, just as I swallowed
them, on the end of the sword. At other times there was blood on the end of the
blade. I always felt faint after the blood, and used to take gin or anything I
could get at hand to revive me, which it did for a time. At last I injured my
health so much that I was obliged to go to the doctor's. I used to eat well, and
drink too. When I felt myself injured by the swallowing I had lost my appetite,
and the doctor advised me to take honey. I was three months on his hands, living
on honey and liquids, tea, beer, and sometimes a drop of grog. At three months'
end he told me, if I swallowed swords, it would be my death; but for all that I
was forced to swallow the swords to get a meal to swallow. I kept swallowing
swords three or four years after this, not feeling any great suffering. I then
thought I would swallow a live snake. I'd never heard of any one, Indian or
anybody, swallowing a live snake. It came into my head once by catching a grass
snake in the fields in Norfolk. I said to myself, as I held it by the neck,
"there seems no harm in this fellow, I'll try if I can swallow him." I
tried then and there, and I did swallow him. It felt cold and slimy as it
went down. I didn't feel afraid, for I kept tight hold of him by the tail; and
no one has any business to be afraid of a grass snake. When I brought the snake
up again, in about three minutes, it seemed dead. After that I introduced snake
swallowing into my public performances, and did so for about four years. I have
taken 5s., and as low as 1s. when I swallowed snakes in the streets of London. I
catched my own snakes a few miles from London, and killed very few through
swallowing on em. Six snakes, properly fed on milk, lasted me a-year. The snakes
never injured me; and I shouldn't have given it up, but the performance grew
stale, and people wouldn't give me anything for it. I have swallowed swords in
the streets thirty to forty times a day, and snakes as often, both in town and
country. I thought once I couldn't have followed any other sort of life; you
see, I'd been so long accustomed to public life; besides I may have liked it far
better than labour, as most young men do, but no labour can be harder than mine
has been. If my father had been what he ought, he might have checked my childish
doings and wishes. I have tried other things though, in the hopes of
bettering myself. I have tired shoemaking, and for five or six years, but
couldn't get a living at it. I wasn't competent for it - that's two years ago -
so now I'm a musician to a 'school' of acrobats. Very many like me remain in the
street business, because they can't get out of it; that's the fact. Whilst I
swallowed swords and snakes I played the fire-eater. I did it once or twice last
week. I eat red- hot cinders from the grate, at least I put them in my mouth;
really red-hot cinders. I have had melted lead in my mouth. I only use a bit of
chalk. I chalk my palate, tongue, and fingers; it hardens the skin of the tongue
and palate, but that's all. Fire-eating affects the taste for a time, or rather
it prevents one tasting anything very particularly. I've eaten fire for 20 years
in the streets and in public places. It hasn't brought any money of late years.
I wasn't afraid when I first tried it, and I first tried it by eating a lighted
link - a small flambeau. I felt no inconvenience. The chalk did everything that
was right. You may stroke a red hot poker with chalked hands, and not be burnt.
I make the same as the acrobats; perhaps I average 12s. a week, and have a wife
and six children, the oldest under eleven, to maintain out of that. Sometimes
we're obliged to live upon nothing. When I was slipper-making I had from 3s. 6d.
to 4s. a dozen, the grindery costing me 1s. 6d., leaving me 2s. for a dozen. I
could only clear 6s. a week by it; that's all I could get out of the slop-shops.
There's one good thing coming from sword swallowing that I ought to mention. I'm
satisfied that Ramo Samee and I gave the doctors their notions about a
stomach-pump."
Another class of out-door performers are the street
dancers. These, I am informed by one who has had many years' experience at
the business, are not so numerous as they were nine years back. It is about
twelve years since dancing was introduced into the public thoroughfares as a
source of amusement to the spectators, and of subsistence to the performers. The
cause of this new kind of street performance being adopted, I am told, was the
bad business and payment at the itinerant theatres. Before that time the lower
order of dancers were confined to the travelling booths. The first dancer who
made his appearance in the streets did only the sailor's hornpipe, dressed in
character. It was very successful then, and produced about 9s. or 10s. on a fine
day. From £2 5s. to £2 10s. per week was the regular income in the summer at
that period. My informant had himself taken as much as 10s. a day in the streets
only four years back. The success of the first street dancer soon spread among
the tribe in the booths. The salary of a dancer at a booth only goes on during
fair time, and was some few years ago lOs. a day for the three days that the
fair usually lasted. (Now the price is from 3s. to 5s., the latter being the
terms of the "very best performers.") A booth dancer is generally at
work three days in the week, there being fairs enough throughout the country to
keep them half employed, and, indeed, fully employed if they could reach them in
time. From the first introduction of dancing into the streets, up to the present
time, performers have kept on leaving the booths for the streets, so that the
street business is now quite overdone; and the average taking, I am credibly
informed, does not amount to above 2s. a day. It requires a great deal of luck,
says my informant, to raise it to 2s. 6d., and often they get only 1s. or 1s.
6d. The street dances are always performed on a small piece of board (about
three feet long and two feet wide), placed in the middle of the road. The most
popular dances are the Sailor's Hornpipe - in and out of fetters - the
Lancashire Clog dance, the Highland Ring, and a comic medley dance. The street
dancers at present in London are about a dozen or fifteen in number; many of
these can only dance the sailor's hornpipe. Only one-third of the number, I am
informed, can do the whole of the dances before mentioned. Included in the
twelve London street-dancers are six children; these are girls from five to
fifteen years of age. The fathers of these girls play the drum and pipes, and
have brought them up to the business. The children make more money than the
grown men. The takings of these people are, in fine weather, from 5s. to 10s. a
day. The father takes the whole of the money collected, and gives but a
halfpenny or a penny to the girls, and that not always. These children appear in
the streets either in Scotch or ballet dresses. There is no female above 20
dancing in the streets of London. Stilt dancing has quite disappeared from the
streets; the police will not allow it, lam told. The male dancers are between 20
and 30 years of age. The occupations of the men previously to taking to street
dancing were of various kinds. One was a baker, another a coachsmith, another a
cotton-spinner, another a street singer, and the rest have been brought up to
the "profession" in booths. The men have mostly taken to the street
business under the impression of doing better at it than at their trades. Some
have gone to it from the love of a roving life, and objection to any settled
occupation or continuous labour. It is thought to be easy work - dancing in the
streets - "but," says my informant, "I find it to be much harder
than even smith's work, which was the business I was brought up to; it strains
the nerves of the legs and sinews, and is more tiring than the sledge-hammer. I
was at smith's work five years, and got upon an average from 15s. to 22s. a week
when I followed it. But I thought I could do better at dancing, and sol did at
first; though now I don't make not a quarter of what I did at my trade, and have
picked up habits that have quite unsettled me for following the business I was
brought up to. Ah, I was young, sir, when I left it, and now I begin to see my
folly. Had I stuck to my trade it would have been a good thing for me and my
poor wife. I'd go to anything indeed rather than be as I am. Our life is so
uncertain. There is no Saturday night you know, sir. You get your money in dribs
and drabs, and being about we are obliged to drop into public-houses, and so a
good part of even the little we do get goes in beer. We are obliged to have beer
at the publics where we go and dress. I learnt my dancing in tap-rooms. I used
to dance to my fellow-workmen of a night, and was thought a little of; that was
why I took to it. The male dancers seldom go out alone, but usually with the
Acrobats. Occasionally two dancers will join, one doing the Highland fling, and
another the sailor's hornpipe. And sometimes one will go out alone with a clown
or a Billy Barlow, to keep the pitch up. These all share equally. A small party
generally does better than a large one. Sometimes two 'schools' will meet at a
public-house, and, 'getting on the drink,' will agree together after they have
spent all their morning's earnings in beer and gin, to go out together merely
for the purpose of getting more drink. I have known," says my informant,
"as many as ten acrobats, jugglers, dancers, clowns, and Jim Crows to go
out altogether, and spend every halfpenny they brought back in drink, and even
after that to pledge the big drum for more liquor. The wives of the street
dancers are generally very poverty stricken, and very miserable. Some do a
little needlework or washing, but many are dependent solely upon their husbands'
exertions, and often they have neither food nor fire at home."
My informant had been for the last two years playing "my
lord in Jack-in-the-green," on May-day. He had been engaged at 5s. a
day, and "plenty to drink" by the sweeps, who I am informed made a
very good thing of it, having cleared £4 or £5 in the three days. This kind of
street performance is generally got up by some master sweep in reduced
circumstances, who engages all the parties and finds the dresses. There was only
one regular sweep in the school that my informant joined. Many of the
Jacks-in-the-green are got up by costermongers. "My Lady" generally
has 3s. a day, and is mostly the sweep's or costermonger's daughter or sister -
anything, indeed, said my informant, so as she can shake a leg about a bit. The
Clown gets 5s., the Jack 3s. or 4s., and the drum and pipes 6s. There are
generally from five to six persons go out together, and the expenses (not
including dresses) will be about 30s. a day, and the receipts about £3. Another
street dancer, "in the general line," whom I saw, said, "I can't
state how many there are in London like me - perhaps twenty. I dare say I make
about 7s. or 8s. a week, take the year through - perhaps 9s. some years."
Among the street dancers, or performers, may be enumerated a
soldier who dances, and goes through the manual exercise with considerable
spirit and gesticulation. His appearance is that of an ordinary foot-soldier,
well sunburnt. His dress is an artilleryman's blue jacket, and a pair of
(patched, but clean) grey trowsers, with a dark blue undress military cap. His
jacket, he told me, was not what he might be considered entitled to wear by
right of his military service, but it was given to him at Barracks (he wouldn't
like it to be known where), by soldiers who had a feeling for a comrade. The
lodging-house at which he lived was of the better kind; only adults were
admitted. He couldn't bear, he declared, to live in a house where there was boys
and girls, and all sorts - "there was such carryings on." He said,
"I was born in the town of Ballinrobe, county of Mayo, and when I was
eighteen (I'm now thirty-six), I went to Liverpool to try to get work. My father
was a carpenter, but I followed no trade. I think I could have given my mind to
trade; but I don't know, for I wasn't tried, and I always thought of a soldier's
life, and a roving one too. I used to look into the barracks at Ballinrobe to
see the soldiers go to church, and I thought a soldier's life was a fine life;
but God knows, then, it isn't; for I have seen men drop in Leuchistan for want
of water - that was in Sir Charles Napier's campaign in 1845.1 have been as near
to Sir Charles as lam to you now. He's a good man to a private soldier, and
would talk to them as to a staff-officer; there's no pride in him. I marched 100
miles barefoot over the hills and through the desert. I was all through the
Seikh campaign, and suffered a good deal in forced marches, with just reasonable
to eat, but the water was the worst. I served in Spain three years before I went
to India. I was with General Evans, and for two years didn't sleep on a bed. I
came home with a good character, and £9 2s. ad. to receive, but never received
it, no nor a fraction of it. I then listed for India, where I was discharged at
Sebatho, in the Himala Mountains, and came down the Ganges (three months of it
in boats) to Calcutta. When I got to the India House, on my return here, I
received 3s. - that's all, sir. I kicked up a row at the India House for some
employment, and was taken before the Lord Mayor, who was very civil to me, and
sent me to prison because I was turned into the streets to starve. I was ill
three months after that, and was in the Free Hospital, ill of fever and want. I
had to beg next with matches, and met with all kinds of insult and contempt,
till I thought dancing was better than begging, with a turn every now and then
in prison for begging, for I never stole in my life. I was nervous the first
time I tried it, but I've since done the soldier~ s exercise in the street, both
broad-sword and firelock. I dance anything that comes into my head. The exercise
is better than the dancing; it pleases the people; they like the soldiers; they
say, 'this poor man works hard, he deserves a halfpenny, and he sells a few
books, we'll buy one.' I always do it in the uniform. I reckon 1s. a very good
day's work for my exercise, but oftener get 8d. or 9d. It's hard work, killing
work. I may dance half an hour, too, for a halfpenny and break my old boots to
pieces. I would like to get out of this exercise, and exercise myself as an
emigrant. I'm heart broken and foot-sore, for I walk from twenty to thirty miles
every day, except Sunday, besides being hunted by the police to stop my
gathering a crowd - I don't know why exactly; for if it's right to fight, it
can't be so wrong to show how it's done. I never eat idle bread in my life, and
would do anything for an honest living. I'm not a drinking man. I didn't drink
in India, that's clear - or I shouldn't have been here exercising. I believe I
have all the trade to myself. Quiet bye streets are my best places; one part of
town is about as good as another; and ladies are my best customers."