Ducrow at Covent Garden—Engagement at Astley’s—Double Acts in the
circle—Ducrow at Manchester—Rapid Act on Six Horses—‘Raphael’s
Dream’—Miss Woolford—Cross’s performing Elephant—O’Donnel’s
Antipodean Feats—First year of Ducrow and West—Henry Adams—Ducrow at
Hull—The Wild Horse of the Ukraine—Ducrow at Sheffield—Travelling
Circuses—An Entrée at Holloway’s—Wild’s Show—Constantine, the
Posturer—Circus Horses—Tenting at Fairs—The Mountebanks.
When Elliston produced the spectacle of the _Cataract of the Ganges_ at
Drury Lane Theatre, in 1823, Bunn, who was then lessee of Covent Garden
Theatre, was induced by its success to engage Ducrow, who made his first
appearance at that theatre on Easter Monday, 1824, in the lyrical and
spectacular drama of _Cortez_. Davis, fearing a rival in the famous
equestrian, offered him an engagement at Astley’s, where he soon became
the chief attraction.
The double act of Cupid and Zephyr, now represented by himself and his
wife, was received with as much applause as it had elicited at
Franconi’s; and a perfect _furore_ was created when he appeared on two
bare-back horses, as an Indian hunter. Cline’s rope-walking feats varied
the programme of the circle in 1826, and in the following year Ducrow,
having first given the performance with immense success at Manchester,
introduced his great feat, then unparalleled, of riding six horses at
the same time, in his rapid act as a Russian courier.
Fresh novelties were produced in 1828, the most attractive being the
equestrian act called ‘Raphael’s Dream,’ in which Ducrow reproduced, on
horseback, the finest conceptions of the sculptors of ancient Greece,
receiving immense applause at every exhibition. Miss Woolford and George
Cooke made their first appearance at Astley’s in this year, in a double
performance on the tight-rope, in which the former _artiste_ was for a
long time without a rival. Aptitude for this exhibition seems, as in
other branches of circus business, to be hereditary; and a Miss Woolford
may have been found as a tight-rope performer in some circus or other
any time within the last half-century. I remember seeing a tight-rope
performer of this name in a little show which attended the July fair at
Croydon about thirty years ago.
Ducrow’s stud was engaged this year for Vauxhall Gardens, where the
hippo-dramatic spectacle of _The Battle of Waterloo_ was revived, and
proved as attractive as it had been some years previously at Astley’s.
The year 1828 is also memorable for the first introduction of an
elephant into the arena, a colossal performing animal of that genus
being brought, with its keeper, from Cross’s menagerie, which many
readers, even old residents in the metropolis, may require to be
informed had its location on the site of what afterwards became Exeter
Arcade, in the rear of the houses on the north side of the Strand,
between Exeter Street and Catherine Street. The elephant was also led in
the bridal procession which constituted one of the displays of the
quadrupedal resources of the establishment in the spectacular drama of
_Bluebeard_.
In travelling over the records of saw-dust performances, we are
frequently reminded of the saying of the wise monarch of Israel, that
there is no new thing under the sun. The bills of Astley’s, the
advertisements of the Royal Circus and the Olympic Pavilion, the
traditions of travelling circuses, present us with the originals of
almost every feat that the acrobats and posturers of the present day
have ever attempted. Ducrow, it has been seen, was the originator of the
_poses plastiques_, revived and made famous a quarter of a century ago
by Madame Wharton and troupe, at the Walhalla, in Leicester Square, and
subsequently by Harry Boleno, the clown, at the Alhambra. Another
instance comes under notice in 1829, when a performer named O’Donnel
exhibited at Astley’s the antipodean feats performed a few years ago at
the London Pavilion, and other music-halls, by Jean Bond. O’Donnel
mounted a ladder, stood on his head on the top of one of the uprights,
kicked away the other, with all its rungs, and in that position drank a
glass of wine, and performed several tricks. The kicking away of the
unfixed portion of the ladder invariably creates a sensation among the
spectators, but adds nothing to the difficulty or danger of the
performance.
On the lease of the Amphitheatre expiring in 1830, the owner of the
premises raised the rent so much that Davis relinquished the
undertaking. Ducrow, who possessed much of the energy and enterprise by
which Philip Astley had been distinguished, saw his opportunity at once,
and, obtaining a partner in William West, took the lease on the terms
which his less enterprising predecessor had shrunk from. He produced a
gorgeous Eastern spectacle, and engaged Stickney and young Bridges for
the circle. Stickney was an admirable equestrian, the first of the many
famous riders who have learned their art on the other side of the
Atlantic, where he had already achieved a considerable reputation.
Bridges was a rope-dancer, and gained great applause by turning a
somersault on the rope, a feat which he appears to have been the first
to perform. Later in the season, Henry Adams (the father of Charles
Adams) made his appearance as a performer of rapid acts of equitation,
the travelling circus which he had lately owned having passed into the
possession of his late groom, John Milton.
During the portion of this year when Astley’s was closed, Ducrow and his
company, bipeds and quadrupeds, performed for a short time at Hull.
Returning to the metropolis, he opened the Amphitheatre for the season
of 1831 with the spectacular drama of _Mazeppa_, the only enduring
performance of the kind with which Astley’s was for so many years
associated. Most of them, elaborately as they were got up,—for Ducrow
never spared expense,—and attractive as they proved at the time of their
production, owed their popularity to recent military events; but the
fortunes of the daring youth immortalized by the genius of Byron, and
the headlong flight of the wild horse of the Ukraine, have proved an
unfailing source of attraction, and made _Mazeppa_ the trump-card of
every hippo-dramatic manager who possesses or can borrow a white horse
qualified to enact the part of the ‘fiery, untamed steed’ upon whose
bare back the hero is borne into the steppes of the Don Cossack country.
Adams and Stickney continued to attract in the circle, but Ducrow
engaged in addition an acrobatic performer named Williams, who turned
tourbillions at the height of twelve feet from the ground, and repeated
them through hoops at the same height, over a tilted waggon, over eight
horses, and, finally, over a troop of mounted cavalry. The famous
performing elephant, Mdlle Jeck, also made its appearance during this
season. When the Amphitheatre closed, Ducrow took his company and stud
to Sheffield, where he had had an immense structure of a temporary
character erected for their performances. He ruined the prospect of a
successful provincial season, however, by indulgence of his overbearing
disposition, which manifested itself on all occasions, in and out of the
arena. The Master Cutler and Town Council determined to patronize the
circus officially, and appeared at the head of a cortege of between
forty and fifty carriages, containing the principal manufacturers and
their families. But, on the Master Cutler sending his card to Ducrow, in
the anticipation of being personally received, Ducrow replied, through
one of his subordinates, that he only waited upon crowned heads, and not
upon a set of dirty knife-grinders. The astounded and indignant chief
magistrate immediately ordered his coachman to turn about, and the
entire cavalcade returned to the Town Hall, where a ball was improvised,
instead of the intended visit to the circus. Thus Ducrow’s prospects in
the hardware borough were ruined by his own hasty temper and overbearing
disposition.
It is now time to say a few words about the travelling circuses that had
been springing into existence during the preceding fifteen or sixteen
years, and some of which have already been mentioned. The northern and
midland counties were travelled at this time by Holloway’s, Milton’s,
Wild’s, and Bannister’s; the eastern, southern, and western by
Saunders’s, Cooke’s, Samwell’s, and Clarke’s. We find Holloway in
possession of the circus at Sheffield after its vacation by Ducrow.
Wallett, who first comes into observation about this time, was one of
Holloway’s clowns, and also did posturing, and played Simkin in saw-dust
ballets. He states, in his autobiography, that they opened with a
powerful company and a numerous stud; but it seems that there were not a
dozen of the troupe, including grooms, who could ride. The first item in
the programme for the opening night was an _entrée_ of twelve, five of
whom were thrown off their horses before the round of the circle had
been made, one of them having three of his fingers broken. The horses do
not appear to have been in fault, for they continued their progress as
steadily as if nothing had happened. Wallett accounts for this untoward
incident by stating that the dismounted cavaliers were clowns and
acrobats, and that few members of those sections of the profession can
ride; but, considering that grooms could have been made available, a
‘powerful company’ should have been able to mount twelve horses for an
_entrée_ without putting into the saddle men who could not ride.
James Wild’s show was a small concern, combining a drama, _à la
Richardson_, with the performances of a tight-rope dancer and a
fortune-telling pony. Wallett, who had made his first appearance before
the public as a ‘super’ at the theatre of his native town, Hull, when
Ducrow was there, and had afterwards clowned on the outside of Charles
Yeoman’s Royal Pavilion at Gainsborough fair, joined Wild’s show at
Leeds, but soon transferred his talent to a rival establishment. Both
shows were soon afterwards at Keighley fair, for which occasion Wild had
engaged four acrobats from London, named Constantine, Heng, Morris, and
Whitton. The popularity of Ducrow’s representations of Grecian statuary
had induced Constantine to study them, and having provided himself with
the requisite properties, he exhibited them very successfully in Wild’s
show.
The proprietor of the rival establishment was in agony, for his loudest
braying through a speaking-trumpet, and the wildest beating of his gong,
did not avail to stop the rush to Wild’s which left the front of his own
show deserted. Wallett ruminated over the situation, and at night sought
Constantine, and made overtures to him for the purchase of his tights
and ‘props.’ The acrobat entertained them,—perhaps the bargain was very
liberally wetted,—and Wallett became the triumphant possessor of the
means of personating Ajax and Achilles, and all the gods and heroes of
Homer’s classic pages. Next day, the show in which he was engaged was
crowded to see him ‘do the Grecian statues,’ while Wild’s was deserted,
Constantine dejected, and his employer despairing.
Bannister’s circus travelled Scotland and the northern counties of
England, and it is a noteworthy point in his history that David Roberts
was engaged by its proprietor as scene painter when he added a stage and
a company of pantomimists to the attractions of the ring. This was in
1817, when the circus was located in Edinburgh, and the future R.A. had
just completed his apprenticeship to a house-painter. Roberts says, in
his diary, that he could never forget the tremor he felt, the faintness
that came over him, when he ascended to the second floor of the house in
Nicholson Street in which Bannister lodged, and, after much hesitation,
mustered courage to ring the bell. Bannister received him very kindly,
looked at his drawings, and engaged him to paint a set of wings for a
palace. The canvas was brought, and laid down on the floor, and Roberts
began to work there and then. At the close of the circus season, he was
engaged at a salary of twenty-five shillings a week to travel with the
company into England, paint all the scenery and properties that might be
required, and make himself generally useful. Roberts says that he found
that the last clause of the contract involved the necessity of taking
small parts in pantomimes, which, he says, he rather over-did than
under-did. His circus experiences were brief, however, for Bannister
became bankrupt before long, and Roberts betook himself to
house-painting again until he was engaged by Corri to paint scenery for
the Pantheon, at Edinburgh. It may be remarked that he received no
higher salary from Corri than from Bannister, and did not reach thirty
shillings a week until he was engaged as scene-painter to the theatre at
Glasgow.
The tenting circuses of those days were on a more limited scale than
those of the present time, and were met with chiefly at fairs. They had
seldom more than three or four horses, of which perhaps only two
appeared in the circle. Their proprietors were not so regardless of
colour as Philip Astley was, and favoured cream-coloured, pied, and
spotted horses. While the acrobats performed ‘flips’ and hand springs,
and the clown cracked his ‘wheezes,’ on the outside, while the
proprietor beat his gong, or bawled through a speaking-trumpet his
invitations to the spectators to ‘walk up,’ the horses stood in a row on
the platform; and when the proprietor shouted ‘all in, to begin!’ the
animals were led or ridden down the steps in front, and taken round to
the entrance at the side, whence they emerged on the conclusion of the
performance, to ascend the steps, and resume their position on the
platform. The performances were short, consisting of two or three acts
of horsemanship, some tumbling, and a tight-rope performance; but they
were repeated from noon till near midnight as often as the seats could
be filled.
Even in the palmy days of fairs, the vicissitudes of showmen were a
marked feature of their lives, owing, in part at least, to their
dependence upon the weather for success, and the variability of the
English climate. A wet fair was a serious matter for them, and the
October fair at Croydon, one of the best in the south, seldom passed
over without rain, which sometimes reduced the field to such a state of
quagmire that hurdles had to be laid down upon the mud for the
pleasure-seekers to walk upon. Saunders, as we have seen, was seldom out
of difficulties; and Clarke had not always even a tent, but pitched his
ring in a field, or on a common, in the open air, after the manner of
Philip Astley and his predecessors, Price and Sampson, in the early days
of equestrian performances. He did not, however, make a
collection—called in the slang of the profession, ‘doing a nob,’—but
made his gains by the sale, at a shilling each, of tickets for a kind of
‘lucky-bag’ speculation among the spectators whom the performances
attracted to the spot. Sometimes additional _éclat_ would be given to
the event by the announcement that a greasy pole would be climbed by
competitors for the leg of mutton affixed to the top, or a piece of
printed cotton would be offered as a prize for the winner in a race, for
which only girls were allowed to enter. Then, while the equestrian of
the company enacted the Drunken Hussar, or the Sailor’s Return, or Billy
Button’s ride to Brentford, the acrobats would walk round with the
tickets; or the equestrian would condescend to do so, while the Polish
Brothers tied themselves up in knots, or wriggled between the rungs of a
ladder, or Miss Clarke delighted the spectators by her graceful
movements upon the tight-rope. The business concluded with the drawing
for prizes, which were few in proportion to the blanks, and consisted of
plated tea-pots and milk jugs, work-boxes, japanned tea-trays, silk
handkerchiefs, &c. This kind of entertainment was given within the last
forty years; but Clarke was then an old man, and with his death the race
of the mountebanks, as they were popularly called, became extinct.
The last section of a mock Act of Parliament published about this time
gives a good idea of the clown’s business five-and-thirty years ago, and
affords the means of comparing the circus wit and humour of that period
with the laughter-provocatives of the Merrymans of the present day. It
runs as follows:—
‘_And be it further enacted_, that when the scenes in the circus
commence, the Merriman, Grotesque, or Clown shall not, after the first
equestrian feat, exclaim, “Now I’ll have a turn to myself,” previous to
his toppling like a coach-wheel round the ring; nor shall he fall flat
on his face, and then collecting some saw-dust in his hands drop it down
from the level of his head, and say his nose bleeds; nor shall he
attempt to make the rope-dancer’s balance-pole stand on its end by
propping it up with the said saw-dust; nor shall he, after chalking the
performer’s shoes, conclude by chalking his own nose, to prevent his
foot from slipping when he treads on it; nor shall he take long pieces
of striped cloth for Mr Stickney to jump over, while his horse goes
under; previous to which he shall not pull the groom off the stool, who
holds the other end of the same cloth, neither shall he find any
difficulty in holding it at the proper level; nor, after having held it
higher and lower, shall he ask, “Will that do?” and, on being answered
in the affirmative, he shall not jump down, and put his hands in his
pockets, saying, “I’m glad of it;” nor shall he pick up a small piece of
straw, for fear he should fall over it, and afterwards balance the said
straw on his chin as he runs about. Neither shall the Master of the Ring
say to the Merriman, Grotesque, or Clown, when they are leaving the
circus, “I never follow the fool, sir;” nor shall the fool reply, “Then
I do,” and walk out after him; nor, moreover, shall the Clown say that
“the horses are as clever as the barber who shaved bald magpies at
twopence a dozen;” nor tell the groom in the red jacket and top boots,
when he takes the said horses away, to “rub them well down with
cabbage-puddings, for fear they should get the collywobbleums in their
pandenoodles;” such speeches being manifestly very absurd and
incomprehensible.
‘_Saving always_, that the divers ladies and gentlemen, young ladies and
young gentlemen, maid-servants, apprentices, and little boys, who
patronise the theatre, should see no reason why the above alterations
should be made; under which circumstances, they had better remain as
they are.’