[-172-]
CHAPTER IX.
MUSIC HALLS.
WHAT may be called the night pleasures of London for young men are extremely
scanty. They consist of the theatre, the dancing-room, and the music-hall.
Search as we may, there is no other to be found. The growth of this biggest city
in the world has resulted in the corresponding development of everything but its
pleasures, which remain, mutatis mutandis, much as the t have been these last
three hundred years. It seems strange, upon reflection, that all the
inventive power that must have been brought into existence by the needs and
desires of London should not have resulted in the discovery of some new
"pleasures" for those who depend upon external aid for their
amusements. At present if the young man wishes for recreation, he goes, as a
matter of course, to one of these three places. He goes there because there k
nowhere else for him to go, and because his own resources do not suffice for
him. It is only begging the question to say that young men should stop at home
and study; or play chess with their fathers, or adapt themselves to a domestic
environment. If they would do so it would undoubtedly be less
[-173-] expensive for them, and less fraught with future evil ; but they
will not do so, and consequently we are bound to take cognizance of what is a
natural disposition. Constituted as they are, young men, or at least most young
men, break off all pretence of study directly they get their first place, regard
chess with as much aversion as cold meat, and look upon musical evenings with
their sisters as wasting time. As things stand youths will go to the theatre,
and the music-hall, and the dance-room, and they go because these places are
attractive to them. No quantity of argument will convince a young man that he
does not like a music-hall if he does, but no one can doubt but that he would
speedily forsake it for something that amused him more. The claim of the
music-hall (to which we shall at present confine ourselves) to be regarded as
the only place where a man cart enjoy himself free from restrictions of all
kinds must be disproved before it can be disregarded, and the only way that it
can be disproved is by providing something better and more attractive.
Many well-meaning people, conscious that harm is done by an
attendance at music-halls, endeavour to set young men against them by making all
sorts of sweeping assertions which those who are conversant with the subject
know to be unfounded; for the advisers of the young do not always seem to think
it necessary to learn themselves before they essay to teach others. When an
irritable father inveighs against the music-hall as the house of the devil, or
when somebody else gives terrible instances of young men who have gone to the
bad by attend-[-174-]ance at such places, the youth
who goes once a fortnight. or at the most once a week, pays a shilling to enter,
watches the performance through, and comes away feels that the indictment is too
severe to be credible, and smiling inwardly at the excess of zeal, disregards
and disobeys. " He must go somewhere for a change," he says;
"where else is he to go?" That is a question that should have been
answered long ago. Surely the inventive genius of the caterers for public
amusement can devise something that shall be stimulating and recreative, and yet
wholesome and harmless, The full amount of evil that is done by the music-hall
is in no way fully understood by those who would amend it ; there is no
great, particular, terrible blot upon it, but a number of little misleading ways
and a crowd of unconsidered evils, which are, in combination no less hurtful in
their results. Before they can be amended they must be understood, and the facts
that we have been at some trouble to collect will, we hope, give a clear idea to
all who are desirous to obtain it of the pernicious character of the music-hall
and everything connected with it. Its atmosphere is replete with all that is
noxious, demoralizing, debilitating, destructive of energy and intelligence, but
the individual components of that atmosphere are so minute and apparently
trivial that they are apt to seem almost harmless when isolated for inspection.
It is therefore necessary, in estimating the effect upon the minds of the
young of each component, to consider it in conjunction with the others that are
virtually inseparable from it.
The music-hall has this advantage over other [-175-]
places of amusement in the eyes of the city youth: it is a place where he
can smoke and drink - two very doubtful advantages but powerful attractions for
him. Then he can talk with his companions without the trouble of missing some
threads of the performance and having to catch them again. The performance
itself does not overtax his intelligence, and he can, moreover, join in it
himself at pleasure by helping to swell the choruses. Women abound, and he can
solace himself by ogling and winking for the barrenness of feminine
society which is his usual daily lot. A description of one or two of
these resorts will perhaps give a better idea of their objectionable character
than any amount of generalization. We will speak presently of the half-dozen big
halls, whose lavish decorations and gaudy discomforts do not attract the young
men of the lower middle class so much as the smaller places which offer the
attraction of additional liberties.
For our first example we will take a hall that is situated in
a side-street not far removed from the centre of theatrical enterprise. It is
what is called a cheap hall; that is to say, the price of the best seats is
about two shillings, and private boxes to hold four persons cost ten shillings.
It is frequented by the ordinary crowd of music-hall goers, composed of young
men employed in the city in various capacities, boys of the lower stamp with
their sweethearts, shabby loafers who are always to be seen in these places at
night, and shelter themselves in public-houses during the day, whose means of
subsistence are alike mysterious and yet apparently plenteous, and who evince a
certain amount of Oriental content [-176-] so long
as they can smoke and observe the display of female loveliness. The performance
commences at 8 o'clock, and at that time the sixpenny seats are full, the red
coats of one or two soldiers relieving the dark mass from too sombre an
appearance; the shilling seats are but sparsely occupied by some of the more
respectable mechanic class, who are not sufficiently wise to know that the
entertainment is not of a first-class character ; the two-shilling seats
are empty. The chairman does not take up his position in the envied arm-chair
with his back to the stage and his face to the audience, until fully ten minutes
after 8 o'clock, during which time the orchestra has played through a jingling
overture with much energy and less time. The chairman's table is empty, and the
seats are understood to be engaged, for if any one attempts to seat himself
thereat a waiter approaches and informs him "that all the seats at the
chairman's table are taken.," The road to the chairman's good graces is
through the bar, and if the intruder has only sufficient presence of mind to at
once propose a "drink" he may count upon not being disturbed even
although, as is frequently the case, the table is usually filed by the same
people every night. The waiters are standing at the back of the shilling seats,
where the glittering bar, presided over by two well-developed young women in
tight black frocks and golden hair, in no way disconcerted at the blank
appearance of the hall, and not yet bestirring themselves in the search for
orders. The early orders are all for "bitters," the waiters
contemptuously say, and the consumers "look sharp after their change";
and, as is well known, the most [-177-] conscientious
of music-hall waiters care nothing for orders unless they are accompanied by
tips.
The hall is not a large one, and the seats on the floor are
arranged something like the pews at a church, only that the ledges in front are
intended for the support of pewter pots and glasses. In days gone by, before the
music-hall had attained its present popularity, the floor used to be
half-covered with chairs, and the other half with tables, and little parties
used to be formed round them, which attended or not to the performance as they
chose. But now space is too valuable for this, and the audience are just as
crowded as in the pit of a theatre. The character of the entertainment has
possibly undergone an improvement; but the level of music-hall singing has not
been raised, and the lion comique, with his rouged nose, and loose coat, and
pocket-handkerchief which he holds in his teeth at one end and swings backwards
and forwards with his two hands at the other, is still to the fore. Perhaps he
is less assertive and boisterous, more decent than of old, yet his loud, hoarse
shout - which he hopes his audience will regard as a singing voice - and his
winks and vulgar gestures are as objectionable as ever, The salaries earned by
these persons are in some cases very large, and surpass even those of the
regular actor. Quite second-rate performers, even according to the music-hall
standard of excellence, get £10 a week for singing three songs ever evening and
as there are no restrictions upon them as to how many halls they may
appear at in the same evening (except in certain cases of rival
positions), they can easily earn from £30 to £40 a week.
[-178-] As we have said, at ten
minutes past eight the chairman, attired in evening dress of a pronounced Gatti-waiter
character, his fingers supplied with big, fat rights, his hair well oiled and
his face very shiny, raps smartly upon his table with his indispensable hammer,
calling forth the obedient applause of the gallery occupants, rises abruptly to
his feet, removes a big cigar from between his lips, and in loud and rolling
tones exclaims, "Ladies and gentlemen, the celebrated and versatile Mr.
Poppy John will appear first," and sits suddenly down and applauds his own
announcement with his hammer. We have invented the name, which we hope is as
meaningless and stupid as the majority of the names taken by music-hall
artistes. Before the appearance of each performer, the chairman - who is usually
what is called a buffo singer, and in some cases "does a turn"
himself, in which event he always comes first on the list - makes a similarly
ornate announcement as to the qualities and personal attractions possessed by
each. Thus "the fascinating Polly A----," "the dashing serio-comic
Nelly B----," the "charming sisters So-and-so." Whilst music-hall
women all claim, to be lovely, music-hall males dub themselves "popuar
comedians," "the only," the "champion knock-about"
"highly gifted," "versatile" "the people's
favourite," "the prime favourite" "England's only comic
singer," and so forth, and this without any personal rivalry or
animosity one towards the other. Not only is this done from the chair, but in
the bills as well; and any one who will take the trouble to read one of the
long, narrow bills which music-halls delight to issue may be amused at the
[-179-] self-glorification it contains, It should, however, be mentioned,
in justice to the performers, that these flights of fancy originate usually with
the managers. The habit that has fallen into desuetude with the theatres, except
in so far as the quotations of extracts from press criticisms are concerned, is
still in force at the music-halls.
The orchestra strikes up a jingling jangle, the not
over-elaborately painted curtain is raised, and the celebrated and versatile Mr.
Poppy John makes his appearance. He advances rapidly from the wings to the front
and at once plunges into an unintelligible medley, interspersed with guttural
exclamations, and somewhat interfered with, so far as coherency is concerned,
by the fact that the singer has lost some of his teeth. For it must be known
that no management put any but those performers whose age or infirmities render
them mere stop-gaps into the front part of the bill, when there is nobody there
to hear them but the gallery . What are called the "stars"
never make their appearance until after 9 o'clock, unless there is any special
reason for it, such as an engagement for the same evening in a distant part of
London. "Poppy John" blunders along through his song, his
"catch" chorus failing to arouse any vocal effort amongst the
audience, from the fact that they cannot hear the words and there seems to be no
particular tune, and he retires at the end of his first song with very little to
cheer him but the applause of the chairman's hammer. This, however, is given
generously, and a few determined-to-be-pleased auditors faintly echo it.
"Poppy John" has sung his first song in a very ill-fitting dress suit;
he [-180-] appears to sing his second in a
loose, light spring coat, and a hat tipped at the back of his head. He jumps
about, shouting all the time, whilst the limited orchestra bangs away at
something resembling an inverted scale, and it presently dawns upon us that he
is pretending to he drunk. The gallery laugh immoderately, especially
when he lurches down to the footlights and says something like, "I was
walking along without saving a word to any-body when one of these paving-stones
jumped up and kicked me in the eye." For his next song he appears in a suit
of fustian, cracking a whip. He is supposed to be a coster. He does it much
better than either of the others, because by this time his exertions have made
him very hoarse and dirty. Then his turn is finished and the chairman announces
"the Evergreen Tottie, the irresistible male impersonator." The
orchestra jingles again - all music-hall tunes have a family resemblance - and
the "Evergreen Tottie," a fat, brazen-faced, vulgar-looking woman, in
tights, short yellow hair, and a cavalier hat, struts on to the stage. She opens
her mouth, and there issues forth a horrible scream of the most discordant
character, out of which it is almost impossible to make any sense, although one
may occasionally catch such words as " Charlie," "squeeze,"
"goodbye," and so on. She sings three songs, each in different-coloured
tights, but otherwise much about the same, and then disappears. She gets more
applause than poor "Poppy John," because she is a woman, and the
gallery is ever gallant. She is followed by a child with no power to make itself
heard at all, a nigger minstrel, two men with Irish [-181-]
brogues who tumble down without the slightest occasion, and fall very much
harder than anybody else would, more men, more women, and then the end. Towards
9.30 the place becomes nearly full, and the waiters are running about with
drinks and cigars. Everybody is smoking, and nearly every one joins in the
choruses that are at all catching. There are many young girls in
the audience, and every song that is sung has something that is objectionable in
it. When it is not absolutely indelicate it is absurdly inane, and when it is
not vulgar it is without feature at all. The women accompany their efforts with
movements and motions that offend the taste and that arouse the laughter of
young men already fuddled with smoke and spirits. When the audience disappears a
horrible odour remains in the building, which has but a poor chance of being
dispelled before the next evenings owing to the defective ventilation of this,
in common with most other music-halls.
The Performance at one of the minor music-halls, such as that
described, may be taken as a fair sample of the whole; for just as the tunes,
owing to the limited nature of their scope, have a family likeness,
surprising in its completeness, so, with a few striking exceptions, do the comic
male singers run on the same lines and the female performers resemble each
other. Moreover, as the same artistes procure engagements at two or three
different halls simultaneously, it is possible to go to several entertainments
and see practically the same performance at each house. Every music-hall of the
smaller class changes half its performers each [-182-] week
the usual engagement being for a fortnight, although in cases of extra success
it may be extended to a month, and this, together with the fact the the
performers are at other music-halls as well, induces the frequenters of one to
keep to it rather than go one week to one hall and the next week to another. The
youth who goes on Saturday night to a music-hall, if he confines himself to one,
knows that he will see a variation on each visit. An additional advantage in his
eyes is that he gets to know the ins and outs of the place, becomes acquainted
with the chairman, the waiters, the barmaids, and possibly the manager (for in
many cases this gentleman is to be seen at a particular point of the principal
bar for an hour or two every evening) and with amazing rapidity scrapes
friendships with other inmates of the place, both men and women. We are talking
now of the clerk who goes to the shilling seats on the floor of the house, or
possibly even to the special, reserved, red velvet-cushioned seats at two
shillings each, into which, after they have done their "turns" the
"pros." occasionally come for a few minutes if they have no
other engagement. The performers who appear after 10 o'clock have usually done
their other business and when their turn is over give themselves up to
the pleasure of watching their brother and sister artistes or of scraping
acquaintances in the audience for the purpose of being treated to
"drinks." The female "pros." who appear "in
front," as the auditorium is called, with their "make-up" on
their faces, sea1skin-jackets, and coquettish bonnets partly concealing their
highly artificial [-183-] looking air, create
quite a sensation amongst the young men with cigars and canes, and as they are
not at all bashful in their manners, they are soon surrounded by a crowd
of youths, each endeavouring to shine as a wit upon a very small stock of "pluckly
slang." But the eye of the feminine pro. is keen, and it takes the measure
of the young men a out it in a much quicker time than they have any idea of. It
selects the most likely-looking from a pecuniary point of view, and at once
devotes all its archness and brightness to them, ignoring the others in a
callous kind of way that ere long drives them from the scene ; the same
discriminating action is then taken with the others, until one remains the
master of the field. It may then be his privilege to be invited to accompany her
in her brougham, she undertaking to set him down anywhere he likes. Elevated by
his distinction, the young man readily promises to be at the hall the next
evening, when if he makes his appearance without a gift of some kind he is
speedily made to feel how grossly he has erred in the ways of feminine
"pros." He must also pay for a bottle of champagne, supposing that he
is sufficiently foolish to have brought the expected present, and the fair one
touches him with her daintily gloved hands and looks at him with her
black-rimmed eyes, from the influence of which he does not then escape sometimes
until he has used up his own petty resources, and possibly "borrowed"
elsewhere as well, in supplying her with unnecessary knicknacks, which she
regards as of no value when she has got them.
The male "pros." affect a racy, flippant, light-[-184-]hearted
air, which attracts the empty-headed youth who has a desire to be something of
that sort himself, little remembering that whilst the former is making money by
his tally, he is losing it. The weak young man who asks the Great Jack Bang to
have a drink (he sings the wonderful song "I didn't tell the missis where
I'd been" with much of voice and variety of facial contortion, and by extra
hurry and roar glosses over the fact that the lines do not scan and the air
clashes with all ideas of harmony) has an idea that it will enhance his
importance in the eyes of his fellows to be seem hob-nobbing with so big a
personage. The Great Jack Bang, who is a man with a blotchy face and a red neck
and wears a billy-cock hat and a tweedy-grey ulster reaching to his feet,
accepts him by saying, "Thanks. A brandy-and-soda and a cigar." The
"Thanks" is the only part addressed to the weak youth. the rest of it
being said in a jocular way to the barmaid; and whilst the great man takes no
further notice of his self-constituted entertainer than by just nodding to him
when he commences to drink, the latter, who of course has been unable to do
anything less than order two "brandies-and-sodas" and two cigars, as
it would ill become him to drink threepennorth of whisky whilst his guest was
regaling himself so differently, finds himself called upon for two shillings,
when his highest flight of fancy, before embarking on the enterprise, had but
reached to sixpence each. The Great Jack Bang has a crowd of people to talk to,
and it presently dawns upon the weak youth that he has made rather a fool of
himself, and that most of the [-185-] other people
around think so too. But he glances across the bar at the reflection of his
vacuous countenance in the mirror forming the background, and notes with pride
the set of his coat, the two inches of cuff showing, the curled point of his
pocket-handkerchief protruding from his outside breast-pocket, and is at once
reassured upon his own position in the eyes of the world, and upon his certain
immunity from the ribaldry of the vulgar. The young men whose ambition is to be
"fly," by which they mean a mixture of low cunning and meanness, pride
themselves upon getting in a word with the "pros." without cost to
themselves and as this class of beings is very numerous at every music-hall and
constitutes the most appreciative part of the audience, it is to them that Bang
addresses any of his would-be funny remarks, sure of an answering roar of
laughter. The fresher youths, who would neither have the courage to press
themselves into close proximity nor the effrontery to ask a man they did not
know to "have a drink," look on from the outskirts of the group, and
treasure up the worthless remarks of the brazen-voiced "pro.," and go
home and repeat them to their younger brothers, to show that they are seeing
life, and are hob-nobbing with celebrated personages. But the Great Jack Bang,
who may be taken as a representative type, is not content for long without
engaging in conversation with the ladies on one side of the bar or the other, He
tells them little anecdotes at which some of the younger youths blush, thinking
what a shame it is to talk to girls in this way; but as his friends laugh
at him, and tell him that the [-186-] girls like
it, and as they certainly do not appear to mind very much, he treasures the
stories up for future use, and lays another stone upon the wall of his growing
uselessness in the world and his lessening chances of advancement.
It may he said that music-halls, more than any other places
in London, even of the lowest and worst descriptions, engender looseness of
behaviour and laxity of morals. They do much to contaminate the minds of the
young because they pose as ordinary places of entertainment, instead of as traps
for the energy and intelligence of youth. There is a kind of freemasonry
existing between the frequenters of the music-hall, which is greatly assisted by
the fact that every such place has a promenade, usually in the vicinity of the
bars, where the young men may strut, complacent admirers of their own trousers
and shoes, and the maidens may display themselves with all the arts of which
they may be master. Lads who would probably not think of accosting girls out of
doors see every one exchanging chaff with the opposite sex, and therefore do
likewise, in the fear of being deemed soft; and when nicely dressed young women
knock up against them in the crowd, and begin conversing in an easy way about
the performance, and how hot it is, and how thirsty they happen to be, find it
quite an ordinary thing to have drinks with them, and cannot for the life of
them see, then, where is the harm of it. To the assistance of the youth
who is "green" comes the performance on the stage: something is said
or sung that makes everybody roar with laughter, whilst the singer half turns
his head away and shakes his [-187-] finger at the
audience as though to reprove them for their levity, and the girl nudges her
companion to draw his attention to it, and laughs loudly in his face, and
he, although for the moment he had pretended not to hear it, can do nothing less
than laugh back, in a shamefaced sort of way. For to object to the music-hall
entertainment when one is in a music-hall is obviously impossible, since all
know what to expect, and if they do not like it would certainly stop away. Then,
again, some "pros." have established a reputation for making personal
remarks upon such of the audience as are in conspicuous positions, and these
remarks frequently serve for introductions when young men and women in close
contiguity come in for some broad impertinence from the stage. The girls always
seem to like it, and the young men will certainly not allow themselves to show
any displeasure, whatever they may feel. Servant-girls are fond of going to
music-halls, an seat themselves in prominent positions, and go into convulsions
of laughter when some dark young man in greasy curls blows them a kiss from the
stage, and draws the attention of the whole audience to the fact that he is
doing so. Many similar occurrences might be described, but we think we have said
enough to show that no women should be allowed inside a music-hall, and if no
women, then no men.
The youth who goes to the music-hall every Saturday night
(and there are many who make a habit of doing so) soon finds that this is not
often enough. It is astonishing how rapid1y the enervating influence of this
kind of performance makes headway against any common-sense resistance. The
[-188-] boy dislikes it the first time he goes, and thinks it remarkably
stupid, as in truth it is; but just as the fact that he is made sick by his
first cigar does not prevent him trying again, so does he essay the music-hall
until he persuades himself that he likes it. The well-brought-up youth may for a
time feet rather ashamed of himself for being there, but the desire for the
noise, the tights, the music, the drink, and the girls who are there every night
soon gains the mastery over him, and he spends as much time there as he possibly
can. Now, young men cannot afford to go many times a week to a music-hall, and
pay two shillings each visit, but the managers knowing that when the youths are
inside something must be spent one way or the other, issue guinea season-tickets
for six months, and in some cases, half-guinea season-tickets for three months,
entitling the holder to entrance every night. Such tickets are largely issued,
and thus it is that one may go night after night for a week to the same
music-hall, and see the same youths there talking and laughing with the
same girls, and virtually making a club of the place. The chairman's table is a
favourite goal for certain young men, but arrived here they become more sedate ;
they drink and smoke steadi1y, they converse earnestly with the chairman, they
regard the performance with the cynical eye of indifference, and from their
exalted position contemptuously survey the audience when they laugh or when they
join in the choruses. They reserve their applause for some particular
female performer, whom they fixedly regard the whole time she is "on,"
and lay themselves out in every extravagant manner con-[-189-]ceivable
to receive one or two of her especial glances in the course of her performance.
But it may be said that when youths settle down to the chairman's table all hope
of rescuing them from their own folly is at an end. The chairmen are usually
low-class men, whose idea of wit is obscenity, and whose enjoyment is summed up
in the most expressive meaning that can be attached to the lower forms of
sensuality. The youth with his season-ticket finds that the music-hall
fun does not begin much before 9.30, so it is not until then that he makes his
appearance, considering that it gives him a certain amount of extra importance
to come swaggering in after most of the "paying people" are there and
as a consequence of this, he is never home until 11.30 Or 12 at night, being
therefore more or less unfit for his business in the morning.
But another danger awaits the youth who goes frequently to
the music-hall, and to describe this it may be as well to record an actual case
that occupied the attention of the public a few years ago. A certain music-hall
in the south of London was nightly frequented by a crowd of the loosest women in
London, and, as this became known, naturally attracted men. In due course
remonstrances came from the authorities, and the management, to avoid trouble on
licensing-day, issued an order at the door that no ladies would be admitted
unless accompanied by gentlemen. In a short time the proprietor of the
music-hall found that his chief attraction was gone. To get over the difficulty,
he issued free passes to the hall to women, who then congregated outside, and
accosted every man who [-190-] came up to just let
them pass the barrier under his protection. This sort of thing goes on now in
some halls, and young men find it difficult to refuse so apparently trifling a
request. There are many music-halls of a very low stamp, situated in
out-of-the-way corners of London, that charge a low price for admission, and
give two performances during the evening, the first commencing at 7 o'clock. and
the second at 9 o'clock. The most expensive seats are sixpence, and the cheapest
are a penny. Bare wooden benches are all that are provided, and beer is
supplied in pewter pots. Such music-halls invariably belong to the landlords of
adjoining public-houses, and it is an established rule with all of them that
Thursday shall be "the ladies' free night," which is to say that every
man can take a woman with him, and need only pay for himself. The entertainments
at these halls are not worse than at others, but partake a little more of the
"knockabout" character, which is pleasing to the "coster";
but the smell of the interior is something dreadful, and the odours given off by
the beer, the tobacco, and the persons of the penny seats do not improve it.
Dirty women, with shawls for their bonnets and babies in their arms, drink beer
with the men and watch the performance with delight, whilst if anybody takes up
too much room they commence to swear and quarrel, as a matter or course. Any
chance visitor to such a hall comes in for more attention than the show, and if
he happens to wear a tall hat it is made the target for odd ends of
sausages, plugs of tobacco, and anything else that may be portable and dirty.
[-191-] A curious danger is incurred by young men who happen to
believe they can sing and are in the habit of frequenting music-halls. They are
pretty sure to confide this to some of the "fly" young men, whose
acquaintance is so speedily made. Such confidants, seeing the chance of making
themselves "useful" both ways, communicate the intelligence to the
chairman, who overwhelms the aspirant the next evening by pointedly observing
that e understands he can sing very well, and offering to give him a turn on the
stage one night, if he will be so good as to let him hear his voice first. The
greenhorn gives the sample, and the chairman and one or two pros. and others who
stop to hear it are delighted, and the singer stands drinks all round and lends
some money to somebody. After due delay, and due extra drinks and loans proposed
by him, he is allowed to go "on" the very last turn, and is given five
minutes, that five minutes' exhibition of himself costing immediately two or
three pounds, and possibly filling his bead with such notions as entirely unfit
him for his daily work.