SWORD-SWALLOWERS: CLIQUOT, DELNO FRITZ, DEODATA, A RAZOR-SWALLOWER, AN
UMBRELLA-SWALLOWER, WILLIAM DEMPSTER, JOHN CUMMING, EDITH CLIFFORD,
VICTORINA.
It has sometimes been noted in the foregoing pages, that fire-eaters,
finding it difficult to invent new effects in their own sphere, have
strayed into other fields of endeavor in order to amplify their
programmes. Thus we find them resorting to the allied arts of
poison-eating, sword-swallowing and the stunts of the so-called Human
Ostrich.
In this connection I consider it not out of place for me to include a
description of a number of those who have, either through unusual gifts
of nature or through clever artifice, seemingly submitted to tests
which we have been taught to believe were far and away beyond the
outposts of human endurance. By the introduction of these thrills each
notable newcomer has endeavored to go his predecessors one better, and
the issue of challenges to all comers to match these startling effects
has been by no means infrequent, but I fail to discover a single
acceptance of such a challenge.
To accomplish the sword-swallowing feat, it is only necessary to
overcome the nausea that results from the metal's touching the mucous
membrane of the pharynx, for there is an unobstructed passage, large
enough to accommodate several of the thin blades used, from the mouth
to the bottom of the stomach. This passage is not straight, but the
passing of the sword straightens it. Some throats are more sensitive
than others, but practice will soon accustom any throat to the passage
of the blade. When a sword with a sharp point is used the performer
secretly slips a rubber cap over the point to guard against accident.
It is said that the medical fraternity first learned of the possibility
of overcoming the sensitiveness of the pharynx by investigating the
methods of the sword-swallowers.
Cliquot, who was one of the most prominent sword-swallowers of his
time, finally "reformed" and is now a music hall agent in England. The
Strand Magazine (1896) has this to say of Cliquot and his art:
The Chevalier Cliquot (these fellows MUST have titles) in the act of
swallowing the major part of a cavalry sword 22 inches long.
Cliquot, whose name suggests the swallowing of something much more
grateful and comforting than steel swords, is a French Canadian by
birth, and has been the admitted chief in his profession for more than
18 years. He ran away from his home in Quebec at an early age, and
joined a travelling circus bound for South America. On seeing an
arrant old humbug swallow a small machete, in Buenos Ayres, the boy
took a fancy to the performance, and approached the old humbug
aforesaid with the view of being taught the business. Not having any
money, however, wherewith to pay the necessary premium, the overtures
of the would-be apprentice were repulsed; whereupon he set about
experimenting with his own aesophagus with a piece of silver wire.
To say the preliminary training for this sort of thing is painful, is
to state the fact most moderately; and even when stern purpose has
triumphed over the laws of anatomy, terrible danger still remains.
On one occasion having swallowed a sword, and then bent his body in
different directions, as an adventurous sensation, Cliquot found that
the weapon also had bent to a sharp angle; and quick as thought,
realizing his own position as well as that of the sword, he whipped it
out, tearing his throat in a dreadful manner. Plainly, had the upper
part of the weapon become detached, the sword swallower's career must
infallibly have come to an untimely end. Again, in New York, when
swallowing 14 nine-inch bayonet swords at once, Cliquot had the
misfortune to have a too sceptical audience, one of whom, a medical man
who ought to have known better, rushed forward and impulsively dragged
out the whole bunch, inflicting such injuries upon this peculiar
entertainer as to endanger his life, and incapacitate him for months.
In one of his acts Cliquot swallows a real bayonet sword, weighted with
a cross-bar, and two 18-lib. dumb bells. In order to vary this
performance, the sword-swallower allows only a part of the weapon to
pass into his body, the remainder being "kicked" down by the recoil of
a rifle, which is fixed to a spike in the centre of the bar, and fired
by the performer's sister.
The last act in this extraordinary performance is the swallowing of a
gold watch. As a rule, Cliquot borrows one, but as no timepiece was
forthcoming at the private exhibition where I saw him, he proceeded to
lower his own big chronometer into his aesophagus by a slender gold
chain. Many of the most eminent physicians and surgeons in this
country immediately rushed forward with various instruments, and the
privileged few took turns in listening for the ticking of the watch
inside the performer's body. "Poor, outraged nature is biding her
time," remarked one physician, "but mark me, she will have a terrible
revenge sooner or later!"
Eaters of glass, tacks, pebbles, and like objects, actually swallow
these seemingly impossible things, and disgorge them after the
performance is over. That the disgorging is not always successful is
evidenced by the hospital records of many surgical operations on
performers of this class, when quantities of solid matter are found
lodged in the stomach.
Delno Fritz was not only an excellent sword-swallower, but a good
showman as well. The last time I saw him he was working the "halls" in
England. I hope he saved his money, for he was a clean man with a
clean reputation, and, I can truly say, he was a master in his manner
of indulging his appetite for the cold steel.
Deodota, an Italian Magician, was also a sword-swallower of more than
average ability. He succumbed to the lure of commercialism finally, and
is now in the jewelry business in the "down-town district" of New York
City.
Sword-swallowing may be harmlessly imitated by the use of a fake sword
with a telescopic blade, which slides into the handle. Vosin, the Paris
manufacturer of magical apparatus, made swords of this type, but they
were generally used in theatrical enchantment scenes, and it is very
doubtful if they were ever used by professional swallowers.
It is quite probable that the swords now most generally used by the
profession, which are cut from one piece of metal-handle and all--were
introduced to show that they were free from any telescoping device.
Swords of this type are quite thin, less than one-eighth of an inch
thick, and four or five of them can be swallowed at once. Slowly
withdrawing them one at a time, and throwing them on the stage in
different directions, makes an effective display.
A small, but strong, electric light bulb attached to the end of a cane,
is a very effective piece of apparatus for sword swallowers, as, on a
darkened stage, the passage of the light down the throat and into the
stomach can be plainly seen by the audience. The medical profession
now make use of this idea.
By apparently swallowing sharp razors, a dime-museum performer, whose
name I do not recall, gave a variation to the sword-swallowing stunt.
This was in the later days, and the act was partly fake and partly
genuine. That is to say, the swallowing was fair enough, but the sharp
razors, after being tested by cutting hairs, etc., were exchanged for
dull duplicates, in a manner that, in better hands, might have been
effective. This chap belonged to the great army of unconscious
exposers, and the "switch" was quite apparent to all save the most
careless observers.
His apparatus consisted of a fancy rack on which three sharp razors
were displayed, and a large bandanna handkerchief, in which there were
several pockets of the size to hold a razor, the three dull razors
being loaded in this. After testing the edge of the sharp razors, he
pretended to wipe them, one by one, with the handkerchief, and under
cover of this he made the "switch" for the dull ones, which he
proceeded to swallow in the orthodox fashion. His work was crude, and
the crowd was inclined to poke fun at him.
I have seen one of these performers on the street, in London, swallow a
borrowed umbrella, after carefully wiping the ferrule, and then return
it to its owner only slightly dampened from its unusual journey. A
borrowed watch was swallowed by the same performer, and while one end
of the chain hung from the lips, the incredulous onlookers were invited
to place their ears against his chest and listen to the ticking of the
watch, which had passed as far into the aesophagus as the chain would
allow.
The following anecdote from the Carlisle Journal, shows that playing
with sword-swallowing is about as dangerous as playing with fire.