Cremorne Gardens—The Female Blondin—Fatal Accident at Aston
Park—Reproduction of the Eglinton Tournament—Newsome and
Wallett—Pablo Fanque’s Circus—Equestrianism at Drury Lane—Spence
Stokes—Talliott’s Circus—The Gymnasts of the Music-halls—Fatal
Accident at the Canterbury—Gymnastic Brotherhoods—Sensational
Feats—Sergeant Bates and the Berringtons—The Rope-trick—How to do
it.
Though the history of circus performances would be scarcely complete
without an occasional passing glance at the music-halls, it would be
impracticable to give a consecutive record of the performances at places
now so numerous without producing a work that would rival in
voluminousness, and, I may add, in tedium, the dramatic history of
Geneste. I shall, therefore, give only a general view of them, including
in the survey places which, during the summer, divide with them the
patronage of the pleasure-seeking public.
While the graceful performance of Leotard was attracting nightly crowds
to the Alhambra, the public were invited by the lessee of Cremorne
Gardens to witness the crossing of the Thames on a rope by a lady who
assumed the name of the Female Blondin, and whose performance was
probably suggested by the more adventurous feat of her masculine
prototype over the cataract of Niagara. The performance was decidedly
sensational, and attracted a great crowd; besides having the advantage
of being attended with much less risk to the performer than any
exhibition ever given by the cool-headed and intrepid Frenchman whose
name she borrowed. Had Blondin fell at Niagara, he would have been
carried over the cataract, and been dashed to pieces; if he should fall
from his lofty elevation at the Crystal Palace, he would be killed
instantaneously.
Miss Young incurred no such risk; if she had fallen into the river, she
would have found it soft, and so many boats were on its surface that the
risk of drowning could not enter into the calculation. Leotard practised
his aerial somersault over water before he performed in public; and it
would have been well for Miss Young if she had confined her rope-walking
feats to localities in which she had the water beneath her. The
experiment at Cremorne served its purpose in recommending her to the
attention of managers as a rival of Blondin on the high rope; but it was
not long before she met with an accident which rendered, her a cripple
for life, while another young woman, whom her success led to emulate her
lofty feats, fell from a rope at Aston Park, in the environs of
Birmingham, and was killed on the spot.
The great attraction of the Cremorne season of 1863 was a tournament,
got up on the model of the one which attracted so large a proportion of
the upper ten thousand to Eglinton Castle in the summer of 1844. There
was a grand procession to the lists, and an imposing display of banners,
and all the pomp and pageantry of bygone times; and then the encounters
of the armoured knights, for which the lists at Cremorne afforded much
more scope than the stage at Astley’s, or even at Drury Lane. Doubtless
there were some dummies, as I have seen in the tournament scene in
_Mazeppa_; but the living knights acquitted themselves very creditably,
and the spectacle proved a powerful source of attraction.
The Queen of Beauty was a lady whose ordinary business was to ride in
_entrées_, and who was known professionally as Madame Caroline. If she
did not, like Thackeray’s Miss Montmorency, live in the New Cut, she had
her abode in the vicinage of that thoroughfare, in the somewhat more
westerly region which receives, after midnight, so large a proportion of
those who, in various ways, contribute to the amusement of the public.
Yet there may have been some of the critical spectators of the Cremorne
tournament who, looking upon Madame Caroline, may have felt the force of
the remark made by Willis as to the comparative suitability of Lady
Seymour and Fanny Kemble to have occupied the throne of the Queen of
Beauty at Eglinton Castle.
‘The eyes,’ said Willis, ‘to flash over a crowd at a tournament, to be
admired from a distance, to beam down upon a knight kneeling for a
public award of honour, should be full of command; dark, lustrous, and
fiery. Hers are of the sweetest and most tranquil blue that ever
reflected the serene heaven of a happy hearth—eyes to love, not wonder
at—to adore and rely upon, not admire and tremble for. At the distance
at which most of the spectators of the tournament saw Lady Seymour,
Fanny Kemble’s stormy orbs would have shown much finer; and the forced
and imperative action of a stage-taught head and figure would have been
more applauded than the quiet, nameless, and indescribable grace, lost
to all but those immediately around her.’
Wallett, the clown, on his return from his second American tour, having
acquired some money, was taken into partnership by Newsome, whose circus
was, in the words of the former, ‘one of the most complete concerns ever
seen,’ They opened at Birmingham, where good business was done for a few
months, after which they started on a tenting tour, with a stud of forty
horses. They returned to Birmingham for the winter, and showed their
thousands of patrons one of the finest amphitheatres ever opened in this
country. The ring, instead of having saw-dust or tan laid down, was
covered with pile matting of cocoa-nut fibre for the horses to run on,
while the central portion, where the ring-master cracks his whip and the
clown his ‘wheeze,’ boasted a circular carpet. The decorations of the
interior were rich and tasteful, and it was illuminated by a chandelier
by Defries, which had cost a thousand guineas.
The association of Wallett with Newsome continued for two years, after
which the circus was conducted by the latter single-handed, and the
former joined Pablo Fanque’s circus as clown. He is next found engaging
the talented Delavanti family for a tour, and afterwards coming with
them to London, where they were all engaged at Drury Lane Theatre, then
temporarily open for circus performances, under the management of Spence
Stokes, an American.
In 1865, Hengler’s company and stud came to London, and gave a series of
performances at the Stereorama, temporarily converted into a circus for
the purpose.
On the termination of these performances, and of William Cooke’s
lesseeship of Astley’s, London was without an amphitheatre for several
years, with the exception of a few months, when a small temporary circus
was opened in the back-slums of Lambeth Walk, by James Talliott,
formerly well known as a trapeze performer. The company and stud, which
were on a very limited scale, were supplied from Fossett’s circus, which
tented at fairs during the summer, and Talliott erected a temporary
circus for them on the yards at the back of a row of houses belonging to
him.
During the time that Astley’s ceased to exist as a circus, the
music-halls of the metropolis, which were now springing up in every
quarter, supplied the seekers after amusement with a constant succession
of performers of those portions of a circus entertainment which can be
exhibited upon a platform. The fatal accident which befell a gymnast
named Majilton at the Canterbury caused the proprietors of those places
of amusement to discountenance the flying trapeze for a time, and the
rising school of young gymnasts who intended to transcend the feats of
Leotard began to practise on the fixed trapeze, single or double, the
horizontal bar, and the flying rings. The gymnast known professionally
as Airec made balancing the distinctive feature of his performances, and
exhibited it on the trapeze in every position. Others gave to their
feats on the trapeze the sensational character which was so striking an
element in the performances of Leotard and Victor Julien by exhibiting
what is called ‘the drop,’ in which one of the performers falls headlong
from the bar, as if by accident, and is caught by the foot by his
companion, who himself hangs from the bar by his feet, which are locked
in the angles formed by the bar and its supporting ropes.
The gymnasts known as the Brothers Ellis, and sometimes as the Brothers
Ellistria, were two of the best performers on the horizontal bar that I
ever witnessed. The slow pull-up of James Ellis was inimitable; but in
feats in which ease and grace were displayed more than strength he was
excelled, I think, by his partner, who, after their separation, assumed
the name of Castelli. I must here remark that gymnastic and acrobatic
‘brothers’ seldom bear the relationship to each other which the
designation conveys. Though it exists in some instances, as in the case
of the Brothers Ridley (both, I believe, now dead), they are the
exceptions; the Brothers Francisco, who performed in numerous circuses
and provincial music-halls several years ago, but have since retired
from the profession, were cousins. The Brothers Ellis, the Brothers
Price, and many other professional fraternities that could be named were
not even partners, one of them making engagements and receiving the
salary, taking the lion’s share for himself, and paying a stipulated sum
to his companion, in or out of an engagement.
The partnership of the Brothers Price, who performed on the double
trapeze, was of brief duration. Price, for only one of them bore that
patronymic in private life, had the good fortune to receive a legacy of
considerable amount, and thereupon retired from the profession; and his
partner, whose real name was Welsh, assumed the name of Jean Price, and,
knowing that single trapeze performances did not ‘go’ like the double,
he began to practise the ‘long flight,’ and made it his specialty.
Suspending his trapeze above the platform, as usual, he erected a perch,
as for the flying trapeze, at the opposite end of the hall, and at the
same altitude as the trapeze. Midway between the perch and the trapeze a
pair of ropes were suspended from the ceiling, and provided with rings
or stirrups, as for the flying rings performance, but long enough to
reach the perch. Taking his stand on the perch, and grasping the rings
firmly with his hands, the gymnast sprang off into the air, and swung to
the trapeze, which he caught with his legs, at the same moment loosing
his hold of the rings. He then performed some ordinary feats on the
trapeze, and catching the climbing rope swung to him by an attendant,
descended by it to the platform, from which he bowed his acknowledgments
of the warm applause with which such sensational feats as the long
flight are invariably received.
Remarks are often made by gymnasts as to the ease with which they
perform on the trapeze and the horizontal bar many of the feats which
elicit the most applause, as compared with those which often excite no
demonstration whatever. Every one who has witnessed the tight-rope
performances of the inimitable Blondin must have observed how much more
he is applauded when he appears on a rope stretched at a great elevation
than when he performs his feats on a low rope. There is, however, no
more difficulty, and no greater risk of falling, whether the rope is
stretched at an elevation of four feet only, or of forty feet, while the
feats performed are the same. But the greater elevation conveys to most
minds the idea of a greater amount of skill and courage being required
for their performance, and hence the louder and more general applause
which they elicit when they are performed on the high rope. People
admire daring, and the more sensational a gymnastic performance of any
kind is the more it is sure to be applauded.
Antipodean balancing feats have been exhibited by several music-hall
_artistes_, in various modes, and with a considerable variety of
accessories. James King, known as the bottle equilibrist, places a stool
on a table, four wine glasses on the stool, a tray upon the glasses, and
a decanter upon the tray; and then, grasping the upper part of the
decanter with both hands, raises himself to a head-balance. Another
_artiste_ of this class, Jean Bond, balances himself upon his head upon
the summit of one of the uprights of a ladder, which is surmounted by a
revolving cap, and by turning the cap with his hands, he spins round in
that position. A more interesting performance, to my mind, than either
of these was shown three or four years ago by an acrobat named Carl, who
walked upon his hands along a wire stretched from the gallery to a
temporary platform on the stage. In performing this feat, the whole
weight of the body rests on the right and left hands alternately, and
the equilibrium is maintained by following each movement of the hands
along the wire with a corresponding motion of the body, so that, whether
the weight is resting on the right hand or the left, the centre of
gravity is directly above the wire.
The flying rings, being a less sensational performance than the trapeze,
has not been much favoured by gymnasts, though they frequently practise
with the rings while training, as a preparation for the flying trapeze.
Some very good tricks can be shown with them, however, and several years
ago the performance was made a specialty by a brace of gymnasts known as
Parelli and Costello. Parelli is not an Italian, as his professional
name would lead the _incognoscenti_ in such matters to infer, but a
native of Westminster, and his real name is Francis Berrington. Having
practised gymnastics with a view to a public appearance, he found a
partner in a young acrobat named Costello, also a native of Westminster,
whose performances had hitherto been exhibited in quiet streets, and
been followed by a ‘nob.’ He is not, however, the only performer whom
the multiplication of music-halls, and the consequent demand for
gymnasts and acrobats in such establishments, has elevated from the
streets to the platform; and it is certain that the change, while it has
raised the status of the vocation, has produced a great improvement in
the quality of the performance, by furnishing the performer with a
constant incentive thereto. It is a curious illustration of the system
of adopting professional names differing from their real patronymics,
and which obtains equally among all classes that contribute to the
amusement of the public in theatres, circuses, and music-halls, that
Parelli is the brother of Luke Berrington, who performs under the name
of Majilton. Luke Berrington is a very creditable artist in
water-colours, and his views of the various portions of the exterior and
interior of Westminster Abbey have been greatly admired by competent
judges for their artistic finish and the fidelity with which every
portion of the venerable edifice has been reproduced. To the general
public, however, he is better known as a clever performer of the tricks
with a hat of soft felt which were first exhibited in this country by
the French clowns, Arthur and Bertrand.
Mr Berrington, senior, the father of Luke and Frank, is not a little
proud of his clever sons and daughter. When Serjeant Bates, to win a
wager and make a book, carried the flag of the American Union from
Glasgow to London, the elder Berrington welcomed him to the metropolis
in an epistle signed ‘Majilton,’ without the prefix of his baptismal
name, as if the writer was a peer of the realm, and used his title. He
refers, with pardonable parental pride, to his olive-branches, then
making a professional tour in the United States, Luke and Frank being
accompanied by their sister and Costello; and the serjeant, who had
probably never heard of them before, speaks of them as a talented family
of actors! Their entertainment was really a ballet of _diablerie_, like
those of Fred Evans and the Lauri family, with a good deal of tumbling
and hat-spinning.
Seven or eight years ago, the great ‘sensation’ of the London
music-halls was a balancing feat of a novel character, which was
exhibited by an acrobat named professionally Sextillian, but whose real
name is James Lee. He arranged about a score of glass tumblers in the
form of an inverted pyramid, and balanced the fragile structure on his
forehead, the base being formed by a single tumbler. But this was not
all. He changed his position several times, constantly assuming
attitudes which would have won the admiration of the world, if they
could have been perpetuated in marble, and even passed in various
positions through a hoop, all the time maintaining the equilibrium of
the glittering pile that rested upon such a narrow base upon his
forehead. If any of my readers should be disposed to attempt the
performance of this feat as a private drawing-room entertainment, they
must be prepared with a good supply of tumblers, for I am able to assure
them, on the excellent authority of Sextillian himself, that the
wondrous dexterity with which he performs it was not attained without an
extensive destruction of glass.
Another performance which excited a large amount of public attention,
partly through the mystery in which the _modus operandi_ was enveloped,
and partly by reason of the excitement previously produced by the
Brothers Davenport’s exhibition of alleged spirit-manifestations, was
the ‘rope-trick,’ shown first by an expert performer named Redmond at
Astley’s, and afterwards at most of the music-halls. The performer was
enclosed in a cabinet about three feet square, and five or six feet
high, with a door facing the spectators, and provided with a small
aperture near the top. In a few minutes an attendant opened the door,
when Redmond was seen within, securely bound in a chair. The spectators
were allowed to satisfy themselves that he was bound as securely as if a
second person had bound him, and then the door was closed. In a few
moments he rang a bell, then he showed one hand at the aperture; in a
few seconds more he began to beat a tambourine, and in a minute and a
half from the time he was shut in the door was opened again, and he
walked out, with the rope in his hands. This performance proved so
attractive that it soon had many imitators, but none of them did it in
so genuine and puzzling a manner, or displayed equal dexterity in its
exhibition.
The trick was not original, but it was new to the public, or at least to
the present generation. I have heard it called both the American
rope-trick and the Indian rope-trick, but the former name may have been
derived from the similar performance of the Brothers Davenport, who
pretended to be passive agents in the business, and to be tied and
untied by spirits. Long before the pretended spiritual phenomena were
ever heard of, the rope-trick was in the _repertoire_ of the famous
Hindoo juggler, Ramo Samee, who performed at the Adelphi and the
Victoria some forty years ago. The manner of its performance is said to
have been communicated by him to one of the Brothers Nemo, who thought
so little of it that he never exhibited it until the public mind had
become excited by the tricks of the Davenports and the antagonistic
performance of Redmond. Next to the latter, Nemo was the best exhibitor
of the trick that I ever saw; but that is not saying much, for most of
them were so incompetent to perform it that the effect produced by its
exhibition by them was simply ludicrous. I remember one of them—I will
not mention his name—complaining when he found that he could not release
himself, that he had not been treated as a gentleman by the person—one
of the spectators—by whom he had been bound; and another, that he had
been tied so tightly that the rope hurt his wrists, and stipulating, on
another occasion, that he should not be tied tight!
The peculiarity which distinguished Redmond’s feats in a remarkable
manner from those of his imitators was, that he not only released
himself from the rope in less time than was occupied in binding him,
whoever the operator might be, but bound himself in a manner that
baffled the skill and exhausted the patience of every one who attempted
to unbind him. I was present one evening at the decision of a wager
which had been made by a West-end butcher, that he would unbind Redmond
in a given time, the tying up being done by Redmond himself. The
performer entered the cabinet, carrying the rope, and was shut in; in
less than two minutes the door was opened, and he was seen bound, hand
and foot, to the chair on which he was sitting. The butcher immediately
set to work, several gentlemen standing around, with their watches in
their hands, surveying the operation with the keenest interest. It was
very soon seen that the butcher was at fault; he could not find either
end of the rope. He sought in Redmond’s boots, up his sleeves, inside
his vest, but the rope seemed endless. He fumed, he perspired, as the
seconds grew into minutes, and the minutes swiftly chased each other
down the stream of time; but no end could he discover. Time was called,
and the butcher’s wager was lost. Redmond was then enclosed in the
cabinet again, and in less than two minutes he was free.
The secret of this trick is unknown to me, but I was not long in
discovering that the mere untying by a person of a rope which has been
bound about him by another is, however securely the rope may be tied, a
very simple matter. It does not follow, however, that the feat can be
performed by every one. The operator must possess good muscles, sound
lungs, small hands, and strong fingers. If he clenches his hands, raises
the muscles of his arms, and keeps his chest inflated during the
operation of tying, he will find that his work is half done by the
simple process of opening his hands, relaxing the muscles of the arms,
and restoring the natural respiration. If the wrists are bound together
without being separately secured, the releasing of one hand frees the
other by the slackening of the rope; but the operator is thought to be
more securely tied when the rope is tied with a knot about the right
wrist, and then passed round the other, both drawn close together, and a
second knot tied. In this case, the right hand must be drawn through the
hempen bracelet by arching it lengthwise, and bringing the thumb within
the palm, so that the breadth of the hand shall very little exceed that
of the wrist; and this operation is greatly facilitated by a smooth,
hard skin. With the right hand at liberty, there is little more to be
done; for a skilful and experienced manipulator finds it easier to slip
out of his bonds than to untie the knots which are supposed to increase
his difficulty. Any man possessing the physical qualifications which I
have mentioned ought to be able to liberate himself, however securely he
is tied, in a minute and a half.
I have performed this feat on several occasions for the satisfaction of
friends, and have always released myself in Redmond’s time, except on
one occasion, when I failed entirely, and had to be released by the
gentleman who had bound me. He had, unknown to me, made a noose at one
end of the rope, and this he passed over my head, after binding my arms
and knotting the rope behind me in such a manner that I could not move
either hand without producing a lively sense of strangulation.
‘I learned that trick in Australia,’ observed the author of my
discomfiture. ‘I tied up a black fellow like that in the bush; _and he
is there now_.’