“On and off, I’ve been clowning these twelve year. Previous to that
time, I have done busking in public-houses, and comic singing, and
ballet performing at penny exhibitions; as well as parading outside
shows at fairs. I’ve done clowning at near every place, at fairs and
in the streets, along with a school of acrobats, and at circuses, and
at penny gaffs, and at the Standard, and such-like. I first commenced
some twelve years ago, at Enfield fair. It was a travelling concern I
was with,--the ‘Thespian Temple,’ or Johnson’s Theatre,--where I was
engaged to parade on the outside as a walking gentleman. There was no
clown for the pantomime, for he had disappointed us, and of course
they couldn’t get on without one; so, to keep the concern going, old
Johnson, who knew I was a good tumbler, came up to me, and said ‘he had
_nanti vampo_, and your _nabs_ must _fake_ it;’ which means,--We have
no clown, and you must do it. So I done the clowning on the parade, and
then, when I went inside, I’d put on a pair of Turkish trousers, and a
long cloak, and hat and feathers, to play ‘Robert, duke of Normandy,’
in the first piece.
“You see the performances consisted of all gag. I don’t suppose anybody
knows what the words are in the piece. Everybody at a show theatre is
expected to do general business, and when you’re short of people (as
we was at Johnson’s, for we played ‘Robert, duke of Normandy,’ with
three men and two girls), Clown is expected to come on and slip a cloak
over his dress, and act tragedy in the first piece. We don’t make up so
heavy for the clown for fairs, only a little dab of red on the cheeks,
and powder on the face; so we’ve only just got to wipe off the ‘slop’
when it’s in the way. You looks rather pale, that’s all. The dress is
hidden by the one we put over it.
“The plot of ‘Robert, duke of Normandy,’ is this: He and his slave
Piccolo come in; and after a little business between them, all gagging,
he says, ‘Slave! get back to the castle!’ he answers, ‘Your orders
shall be attended to!’ Then he says, ‘At the peril of your life, and
prevent the fair Angeline to escape!’ That’s the first scene. In the
second, two of Robert’s slaves attack his rival, and then Robert rushes
in and pretends to save him. He cries ‘Hold! two to one!’ The men go
off, saying, ‘Well, we part as friends! when next we meet, we meet as
foes!’ As soon as Robert leaves the rival the lady comes in, and tells
him she is flying from Robert’s castle, and that Robert has seduced
her, and seeks her life. She tells him that the man who just left him
is he. ‘It is false!’ he says; ‘that is my friend!’ She cries, ‘Test
him!’ ‘But how?’ he asks. She replies, ‘Follow me to the statue, at the
bottom of the grove, and then I will tell you!’ Then the third comes
on. Enter Robert and slave, and the marble statue discovered: that is,
it is supposed to be, but it is only Angeline dressed up. He gives the
slave instructions to put a ring on the finger of the statue--for he is
supposed to have dealings with Old Nick, and that every time he put a
ring on the statue he can demand a victim. He tells the slave to place
a ring on the finger, and pronounce these words: ‘When it may please
your most gracious majesty to seek your husband, to find a victim, you
will find him here!’ ‘No, no, not here--there!’ pointing to Robert.
The Duke half draws his sword, and exclaims, ‘Slave! what ho!’ without
touching him. Enters the rival, who demands satisfaction of Robert; who
says, ‘What can I do to satisfy you?’ for he’s in a deuce of a go now.
He then tells him to kneel to the statue, and swear he is not Robert,
duke of Normandy. Instead of that he calls to the servant, and tells
him to put the ring on; but Robert, the Duke, is in a deuce of a way,
tearing his hair. The servant does it, and exclaims, ‘I have done it;
but would you believe it, when I placed it on the finger, the finger
became collapsed!’ Robert cries, ‘Slave, thou art a liar! if I find
that it is false I will cleave thee to the earth!’ Robert examines the
finger, and exclaims, ‘Alas! it is too true!’ and he kneels to the
statue and says, ‘I swear that I am’--and he’s going to say, ‘not duke
of Normandy,’ but the statue is too quick for him, and adds, ‘Robert,
duke of Normandy!’ And then the comic slave pops his head round, and
pronounces, ‘Oh, the devil!’ Then the rival stabs him, and he falls
down wounded, and then he’s triumphant; and a pen’orth of blue fire
finishes the piece; and then ding! ding! dong! and down goes the
curtain. We always have blue fire,--a pen’orth each house,--and that
makes it go. Sometimes there are two friends in the piece; but it all
depends upon whether the piece is powerfully cast or not. We usually
knocks the two friends into one, or does away with ’em all together.
‘Robert, duke of Normandy,’ is a never-failing fair piece, and we
always does it every year. That and ‘Blue Beard, or Female Curiosity,’
and ‘Fair Rosamond, or the Bower of Woodstock,’ are our stock pieces.
After the curtain has been down three minutes it goes up again, and the
heavy goes in and says,--
‘Elves of the mountain, dale, and dell,
This young maid to please within her cell,
Attend unto us, one and all--
Listen to your potent master’s call.’
“Then all of us at the sides put their fingers in their mouths and howl
like Indians. There’s generally a cue given of ‘Now, demons.’ After
that the heavy man says:--
‘You, young man, that knows no sin,
Appear as russet-booted Harlequin.’
We called him russet-booted, because he had been playing the lover in
the first piece. At Richardson’s they called him ‘Spangled Harlequin,’
but old Johnson couldn’t do that, he hadn’t no wardrobe. Then the heavy
man continues:--
‘And you, young maid, no longer pine,
Attend him as his faithful Columbine.’