Some fifty years ago I was entered, by permission of my father, a
merchant tailor, as a pupil in the Duke of Cumberland's School. Among
other branches taught, much attention was given to gymnastics, in which
I soon surpassed all my schoolmates, and soon became such a proficient,
that our training-master in that branch was dispensed with, and I,
though but a boy, took his place. After completing our education, I,
along with a select few of my old schoolmates, used to meet at the back
of Primrose Hill on the Saturday evenings of summer for the purpose
of practising posturing and trying to imitate the gymnastic feats we
had seen performed at the fairs in London and the neighbourhood. On
these occasions we used frequently to be patronised by 'The Champion
Sword-swallower and Fire-king,' who was the proprietor of a penny show
in Broad Street, Bloomsbury. The house was swept away when Bloomsbury
Street was formed. One day he produced a dagger with a blade of six
or seven inches in length, and passed the blade down his throat; and
after removing it, challenged us to perform the feat. From my earliest
boyhood I have always been somewhat of a dare-devil. I took the dagger,
and soon found no difficulty in repeating what he had done.
That evening, on returning home, while my father was at supper, I went
into the workroom and began experimenting with the yard-stick. I found
that, in jugglers' phrase, I could swallow twenty-one inches of it. I
thereupon determined to become the monarch of sword-swallowers; but
domestic circumstances put an end for a time to my ambition. Instead
of displaying my talents on the boards of a booth, I was compelled by
necessity to tread the boards of a merchant-ship in the character of a
sailor-boy. My early training at school was of great service to me, for
my nimbleness and activity soon raised me high in the captain's favour.
My first appearance in public as a showman was at an entertainment in
presence of the officers of the garrison at Tobago. I made a decided
hit, and received many presents from them. On returning to England, our
ship was wrecked off Margate, and with difficulty I managed to reach
the shore, on which I stood the possessor only of a pair of canvas
trousers with empty pockets, a belt, and a Guernsey shirt. Some kindly
hearted persons presented me with an old straw-hat, a pretty decent
pair of boots, and a good dinner. On the strength of the dinner I set
out for Brighton, where I expected to find employment with a relative.
Luckily the weather was dry and warm. My meals consisted of pilfered
turnips, and I found comfortable lodging in the fields. I reached
Brighton only to find that my relative was dead. His successor in
business, who was a stranger to me, presented me with sixpence, and I
then set my face towards London.
One evening I reached _The Thorns_, a small road-side inn at Hawley,
in a very exhausted state, for I had passed no turnip-fields since
morning. I made up my mind to spend my remaining two-pence on a pint
of beer, and then to push on for a mile or two and look out for a
comfortable hedge-side. I entered the public room of _The Thorns_.
It was well filled with jovial farmers, as I afterwards ascertained
them to be. I ordered my beer; and when it was brought in, one of the
farmers insisted on paying, and ordered the servant to set a plate of
bread and cheese before me. After my supper was devoured rather than
eaten, another pint of beer was ordered for me, and I was asked by my
kind entertainers to oblige them if I could with a song. I readily
consented. I sang several songs, performed a few simple sleight-of-hand
tricks, and finished up by swallowing half the length of the landlord's
walking-cane. I then took my leave; but before I reached the door I
was called back and asked where I intended putting up for the night,
which was by this time far spent. I stammered out what answer I could;
which not satisfying my worthy entertainers, they decided that at
their expense I should remain where I was; should be supplied with
breakfast, dinner, and tea, and that my beer should not be stinted.
On the following evening they again returned, bringing with them a
numerous company of their friends, and I went a second time through my
performances. They wished me a hearty adieu and gave me a handful of
silver.
On arriving in London I looked about for a professional engagement,
and was not long in procuring one at a notorious penny theatre, known
as Hayden's Gaff, in Newton Street, off Holborn, a short street now
filled with handsome warehouses, but in those days a haunt of the vile
and worthless of both sexes. My salary was paid nightly, and varied
with the number of the audience and the sober or inebriated state of
the lessee, manager, and money-taker, all which parts were played by
Tom Hayden. From this gaff I emigrated to the Rotunda, now no more,
in Blackfriars Road. After appearing at several of the music-halls (O
how different from the flash and the flare of those of the present
day), I got an appearance for a season at Vauxhall Gardens, which still
retained some memories of their aristocratic youthhood.
During all this time I was eking out my means of living by doing odd
jobs, for I was Jack-of-all trades. At last I recklessly plunged into
a showman's life by signing a year's engagement with a Mr Spicer,
proprietor and manager of a caravan and a travelling theatre, or in
other words a booth; and in his booth I played for the first time
before the merry-making lads and lasses at Bartholomew Fair. At this
fair I met the sword-swallower of those days, who was then astonishing
the audiences at 'Richardson's.' His sword was twenty-eight inches
long. The longest sword I have ever performed with is twenty-seven and
five-eighth inches. Keene used also to 'swallow' dinner knives and
forks, but this was a mere sleight-of-hand trick.
About this time I met with the renowned Ramo Same, the Indian juggler
and magician. He was performing at the Coburg (now the Victoria
Theatre) in the Borough. He too was a sword-swallower, and very
cleverly did he combine deception with reality. He used to come on the
stage carrying three naked swords, with which he went through a clever
performance. At the termination of this he stuck the swords upright
in the stage, to shew the sharpness of their points, then pulling one
of them with apparent effort out of the flooring of the stage, he
slid it to a considerable depth down his throat. The swallowing part
was genuine; but the sword he used for that purpose was provided with
a false point, which was left in the wood on withdrawing the blade.
I have never seen or heard of any sword-swallowing performed with a
keen-edged or sharp-pointed weapon. I may add that Keene had advantage
over me, he being the taller by nine inches of the two; and that my
capacity of swallow is a marvel to the many leading medical gentlemen
before whom, for scientific purposes, I have exhibited.
My engagement with Mr Spicer was rather peculiar. I was a single
performer divided into three, and sometimes more. I occasionally
appeared in the tragedy or melodrama which was 'supported by the entire
strength of the company.' The entire strength numbered half-a-dozen
including the driver of the caravan. The legitimate drama was every
evening followed by a 'pleasing melange,' in which I made three
appearances: first as 'Paul Blanchard the champion sword-swallower
of the universe;' then after a brief interval, as 'Monsieur Le Bland
the celebrated French acrobat, from the Royal Theatres of Paris;' and
third and last, dressed in costume which may be described as a cross
between the apparel of a Turkish Pacha and a stage Richard III., I
made my bow as 'Victor Delareux the Fire-king, who has performed with
great applause before the crowned heads of Europe.' In this character
I 'swallowed' handfuls of tow and vomited smoke and flames from my
mouth. This trick is easy of performance, and though not dangerous is
very disagreeable to the performer. Then followed my feat of drinking
boiling oil; which in its turn was followed by a draught of molten
lead; and my performance was concluded by a dance, which I performed
with my bare feet on a red-hot bar of iron, which I also, in an
incandescent state, passed along my bare arms and legs, and licked
with my tongue. The 'drinking' of the boiling oil, in which I used
to dissolve before the audience a rod of metal, and the drinking of
the molten lead, were simple and harmless tricks; and have, as far as
my memory serves me, both been described and explained in the early
editions of the _Boy's Own Book_, a copy of which was my constant
companion thirty years ago and more. The iron bar performance
necessitates the employment of a mixture of chemicals, with which the
parts exposed to the red-hot metal are anointed. If the bar is not up
to red-heat, the feat is dangerous, as the chemicals will not act. The
dancing on the bar must be gone through rapidly, the heel of the foot
never resting for a moment on the iron.
My acrobatic and fire-king feats I have long since discontinued, and
for many years my sword-swallowing has been subordinate to the less
romantic business by which I gain my living. Still I am an old showman
at heart, and look back with a melancholy pleasure to the days when I
wandered about in gipsy fashion boothing and tenting.