A stout, acute-looking man, whom I found in a decently-furnished room
with his wife, gave me an account of this kind of street-exhibition:--
“I perform,” said he, “with birds and mice, in the open air, if
needful. I was brought up to juggling by my family and friends, but
colds and heats brought on rheumatism, and I left juggling for another
branch of the profession; but I juggle a little still. My birds are
nearly all canaries--a score of them sometimes, sometimes less. I
have names for them all. I have Mr. and Mrs. Caudle, dressed quite in
character: they quarrel at times, and that’s self-taught with them.
Mrs. Caudle is not noisy, and is quite amusing. They ride out in a
chariot drawn by another bird, a goldfinch mule. I give him any name
that comes into my head. The goldfinch harnesses himself to a little
wire harness. Mr. and Mrs. Caudle and the mule is very much admired
by people of taste. Then I have Marshal Ney in full uniform, and he
fires a cannon, to keep up the character. I can’t say that he’s bolder
than others. I have a little canary called the Trumpeter, who jumps
on to a trumpet when I sound it, and remains there until I’ve done
sounding. Another canary goes up a poll, as if climbing for a leg of
mutton, or any prize at the top, as they do at fairs, and when he gets
to the top he answers me. He climbs fair, toe and heel--no props to
help him along. These are the principal birds, and they all play by
the word of command, and with the greatest satisfaction and ease to
themselves. I use two things to train them--kindness and patience,
and neither of these two things must be stinted. The grand difficulty
is to get them to perform in the open air without flying away, when
they’ve no tie upon them, as one may say. I lost one by its taking
flight at Ramsgate, and another at Margate. They don’t and can’t do
anything to teach one another; not in the least; every bird is on its
own account: seeing another bird do a trick is no good whatever. I
teach them all myself, beginning with them from the nest. I breed most
of them myself. To teach them to sing at the word of command is very
difficult. I whistle to the bird to make it sing, and then when it
sings I feed, and pet, and fondle it, until it gets to sing without my
whistling--understanding my motions. Harshness wouldn’t educate any
bird whatsoever. I pursue the same system all through. The bird used
to jump to be fed on the trumpet, and got used to the sound. To train
Marshal Ney to fire his cannon, I put the cannon first like a perch for
the bird to fly to for his food; it’s fired by stuff attached to the
touchhole that explodes when touched. The bird’s generally frightened
before he gets used to gunpowder, and flutters into the body of the
cage, but after a few times he don’t mind it. I train mice, too, and
my mice fetch and carry, like dogs; and three of the little things
dance the tight-rope on their hind legs, with balance-poles in their
mouths. They are hard to train, but I have a secret way, found out by
myself, to educate them properly. They require great care, and are,
if anything, tenderer than the birds. I have no particular names for
the mice. They are all fancy mice, white or coloured. I’ve known four
or five in my way in London. It’s all a lottery what I get. For the
open-air performance, the West-end may be the best, but there’s little
difference. I have been ill seven months, and am just starting again.
Then I can’t work in the air in bad weather. I call 21_s._ a very good
week’s work; and to get that, every day must be fine--10_s._ 6_d._
is nearer the mark as an average for the year. An order to play at a
private house may be extra; they give me what they please. My birds
‘come with a whistle, and come with a call, and come with a good will,
or they won’t do at all’--for me. The police don’t meddle with me--or
nothing to notice. A good many of my birds and mice die before they
reach any perfection--another expense and loss of time in my business.
Town or country is pretty much the same to me, take it altogether. The
watering-places are the best in the country, perhaps, for it’s there
people go for pleasure. I don’t know any _best_ place; if I did I’d
stick to it. Ladies and children are my best friends generally.”
The performance of the birds and mice above described is very clever.
“Mr. and Mrs. Caudle” are dressed in red and blue cloaks, trimmed with
silver lace and spangles; while Mr. Caudle, with an utter disregard of
propriety, is adorned with a cocked hat.