A Clown's Log

Blackburn in England

The England of Blackburn’s day, with a population of over fifteen and a half million (1831 census), was, for all purposes, still living in the eighteenth century. It had not yet been touched by American influence; rights of laborers were not recognized; the majority of the country people could not read or write; rank and wealth were held in special reverence; and penal settlements still flourished (between 1825 and 1840, over 48,000 convicts were sent to Australia). At the same time, the country was undergoing an industrial revolution; and with it, mechanization in manufacture and travel was bringing remarkable change which would rapidly accelerate within the next fifty years. The British merchant marine was the largest and most powerful in the world. Ship-building technology was far in advance of competing nations. This very year, two paddle steamers, the Sirius and the Great Western, raced across the Atlantic in under twenty days.

Liverpool, situated on the right bank of the Mersey River, three miles from the sea, was the major port in England and the funnel for trade with the Americas. Freighters brought cotton from the docks of New Orleans, tobacco and rice from Charleston, and grain and all sorts of commercial goods from New York. Passenger travel from every direction was disembarked there. Its location, adjacent to the manufacturing centers of Lancashire, Yorkshire and the Midlands, thirty-four miles from Manchester and just less than one hundred from Birmingham, served to establish the city’s importance as an export and import center. Such bustle of trade ignited a population growth from the 77,700 recorded in the 1801 census to over 370,000 in the next half-century. It was at this port of entry, Liverpool, where Captain Cobb brought his sea-weary passengers.

[Blackburn’s party landed safe in Liverpool after a voyage of twenty-four days and one hour.] Went to the monument erected for Nelson. Biggest horses and carts I ever saw---one horse drawing twenty-two bales of cotton. Tell this to a Mississippian and he would laugh at you. About two, returned to the ship where I had the pleasure of being introduced to Tom Watson, a fine fellow; also Mat Robinson, a famous pugilist in this country. Took a turn up-town, visited Jim Ward, another great fighter---a large, fine looking fellow.

Tom Watson was an English clown, a member of the famous Watson family, who worked both sides of the Atlantic. He was connected with various circuses in the United States in the 1850s and 1860s.

Jem Ward was a more notable pugilist than Mat Robinson. Ward challenged Tom Cannon for the English heavyweight title in 1825. They fought in temperatures of over ninety degrees. The bout lasted only ten minutes with Ward the winner. He held the crown for a year and a half until he was challenged by Peter Crawley in 1827. Crawley won by a knockout in the eleventh round. Two days later the new champion retired from the ring. Ward reclaimed the title and retained it until 1831. On July 12, he fought the Irish champion, Simon Byrne. The fight lasted an hour and seventeen minutes with Ward coming out the winner. He announced his retirement a year later, opened a tavern, and lived to the age of eighty-one. 58

Walked about until seven. Went to the Amphitheatre---a part of Batty’s; saw a Mrs. Hughes ride---the best female rider I ever saw. Mr. doing the Polander very well. Rest of the performance shy. Wild and Brown as clowns; Brown tolerable, Wild no go.

William Batty was an equestrian performer as early as 1828. Ten years later he had his own circus. Edward Fitzball, the writer of horse dramas, described him as a most extraordinary man, endowed with a natural intellect. After a lengthy and successful career as a showman, he died in 1868. Edwin Hughes origins’ were not of the circus. He was the son of a steel toy manufacturer from Birmingham. He joined Batty’s troupe and became the best polander in England, the first, it was said, to rotate a full 360 degrees on his head without holding, while balancing on a single upright spar of a come-apart ladder. He was at one time Batty’s manager in Ireland. Eventually, in 1843, at the age of thirty, he formed his own company. After five years of successful operation, he retired with a handsome fortune. 59 The clowns of the circle were Henry Brown (1814-1902) and James Wild (d. 1867), minor performers when compared to some of the great English jesters.

[The next night he again visited the Amphitheatre, when he was introduced to Mrs. Hughes, who, he adds, appeared as Columbine in the pantomime. The show terminated at the unreasonable hour of half-past twelve. This entry ends Log No. 2.

The following day they saw Batty, who could give them but “a few days.” This brief engagement was declined.]

Thursday, May 31. Shortly after breakfast, went on board the Hibernia--- Mr. Cony, Mr. Stevens, Tom Watson, Levi North, Bill Blanchard and myself---for the purpose of presenting Captain Cobb with a splendid snuff box as a small token of respect we felt for his kindness extended to us on our passage. After the speech-making, the Queen, Martin Van Buren, Henry Clay, and absent friends were toasted. After returning home and dinner, Mr. and Mrs. Cony, Bill, and myself paid a visit to the St. James Cemetery, a most beautiful place of burial---a perfect paradise. Almost wanted to die. Returned home much pleased. Visited Tom Watson. A genteel fellow came in, sang, and carried round his hat for half- pennies---he wanted a club. Little boy “Jumped Jim Crow.” Paid a visit to my friend Tom Grierson.

The actor, Tom Grierson, was born in Liverpool. He went to America around 1827, making his debut at the Walnut Street Theatre, Philadelphia, that year. In 1828, he appeared in N.Y.C. at the Broadway Circus. Sometime later he returned to England, where he probably remain for the rest of his life.

Friday, June 1. Got shaved by our English barber. No headpiece to the chairs. Paid threepense. [From Mr. Blackburn’s diary we learn that Tom Watson was known as “The President of the Ugly Club,” and he mentions drinking a pot of porter out of the president’s silver pot. Visiting the races, they take in:] a penny Ducky---a shabby theatre, twopence admission. And such an audience I never saw---ragged boys, coal heavers, and the lowest class of women. On our entrance we were saluted with “Harrah for the President of the Ugly Club!” “Bravo, Cony and His Dogs!” “Go it, Nosey Jackson!”

Who was Nosey Jackson? Can it be that, recognizing Blackburn as an American, the shouter was referring to Andrew Jackson, whose second term as president had ended just two years prior and who was well remembered in England for his overwhelming defeat of the British forces in New Orleans, January 8, 1815, which made him a military hero of the War of 1812?

Play not commenced, went out and took a glass of ale. Returned. Play not yet commenced. One of the actors drunk. Play, “Alonzo the Brave and the Fair Imogene.” Stopped to see two acts of five minutes’ duration. Such acting I never saw before. Left perfectly satisfied that this was the quintessence of all exhibitions I had yet seen.

Blackburn’s remarks were completely justified. The penny theatres, or sometimes called penny “gaffs,” were a form of urban entertainment for the working class. There were some eighty to one hundred of them scattered about London alone in the 1830’s, housed in converted store-fronts, barns, sheds, or other inexpensive locations. These places frequently seated around 200 spectators, mostly males. Performances, consisted of comic songs, pantomimes, burlesques and melodramas, the whole program lasting an average of forty-five minutes. The actors, seldom following a written script, interacted freely with the audience; something that came easily to them; for, being at the bottom of their profession, they were usually as impoverished as those who paid to see them. 60 An 1838 account of one these places portrays the audience as a “dirty, ragged set, principally consisting of boys and girls; two of them were barefooted, and had scarce a rag to cover them, and did not seem to have been washed for a month.” The theatre was “of the most wretched description.” There was a temporary stage and bits of scenery. A sign at the entrance announced “This evening’s performance: ‘The Spectre of the Grave’; after which, a comic song by Mr. Ewyn; to conclude with ‘The Key of the Little Door.‘” 61

Saturday, 2. Saw two or three women in the streets [of] Liverpool, picking up horse manure with their hands and putting it in their aprons. I suppose they sell it for a living---rather ripe living, that. [Street montebanking was evidently a novelty to him, for he continues:] Also four tolerably genteel fellows, two with violins, a flute, a violincello, playing through the streets for pennies. [This was before the “Little German Band” in our American cities. The same night he saw two boys dancing “Jim Crow,” with their faces blacked with soot.]

We connect the song and dance, “Jim Crow,” with negro minstrelsy. But this truly American entertainment form did not exist at this time; however, T. D. Rice had already appeared at the Adelphi Theatre, London, with his repertory of plantation songs and his impersonation of “Jump Jim Crow,” which took the British public by storm.

[En route to London by stagecoach, he says:] Changed horses at Blue Bell. Had some cheese and ale in the kitchen. Noticed the kitchens here are as clean as our parlors. [Further on in his journey:] In a small village I got the best glass of ale I have had in the country. People keeping up Whit Monday. [At Warren:] Stopped at the George Hotel. 62 Crowds around the coach. The Leeds and Sheffield coach came in, the guard playing the valve-trumpet beautifully. Some of the country people thought Hector, Cony’s dog, a white bear, and the girls admired North’s long locks. [At Birmingham:] Had a row about Cony’s dogs; had to pay passage for them to London. Agent, Brotherton, a damned rascal. Left, having got a bad supper, and in no good humor.

The British looked upon coach travel far differently than Americans. The first thirty years of the nineteenth century represented the glory era of stage coaching for them. The road had an appeal to Englishmen then unlike anyone anywhere. There was an air of romance connected with it, a feeling of enthusiasm and abandonment. Later in the century, retrospective accounts by writers and artists described the pleasures of racing along at ten miles an hour, sitting atop the rumbling rigs, listening to the cracking of the whips as the coachmen commanded more speed from their equine quartet.

Improved methods of road construction made travel faster and more comfortable. Vehicles were less likely to get mired in rain-inspired muddy stretches or brake an axle from ugly ruts along the route. Coaches were constructed of lighter materials and supported more pliable springs. Thus, speed and precision became the competitive edge for rival coach lines, reflected in the names given their vehicles: “Highflyer,” “Quicksilver,” “Comet,” “Rocket,” “Greyhound.”

There were stops along the way for refreshment and for overnight rest. Inns dotted the roadways every few miles. But because of the rigid schedules, there was no time for casual eating - ten minutes for breakfast, twenty minutes for dinner - before the guard’s horn interrupted the repast. The assessment of the food served at these places depended on who described it. One writer referred to the usual coach dinner as “a course, fat leg of mutton, roasted to a cinder, a huge joint of boiled beef, underdone, and gritty cabbage.” Another remembered his breakfast more fondly. “The table was covered with the whitest of white clothes and of china, and bore a pigeon-pie, a ham, a round of cold boiled beef; and a waiter came in with a tray of kidneys, and steaks, and eggs and bacon, and toast and muffins, and coffee and tea.” 63

Half-past ten, arrived in Coventry, celebrated for making ribbons and for Sir John Falstaff’s ragged regiment; also, a certain Sleeping Tom. Coach changing horses, took a pot of ale, fancying its sack, and thinking myself Sir John in his younger days, when he could have crawled through an alderman’s thumbring.

“Crawled through an alderman’s thumb-ring” is a reference to the corpulent Falstaff’s speech from Shakespeare’s “Henry IV, Part I,” Act II, scene 4: “My own knee! when I was about thy years, Hal, I was not an eagle’s talon in the waist; I could have crept into any alderman’s thumb-ring: a plague of sighing and grief! it blows a man up like a bladder.”

Tuesday, 5. Arrived in London. Drove to Charing Cross and put up at the Golden Cross. Called for breakfast. Could not get a room to wash or dress in. Cursed the whole fraternity of English landlords. In a devil of a pickle; tore the whole seat of my trousers across in leaping from the coach. Had to wear my coat buttoned.

Coventry was about the half-way point between Liverpool and London, which was a two-day trip. Charing Cross was the terminus for the stage line approaching London from the Coventry road. The Golden Cross has been described as a five-story brick structure of Georgian architecture with sashed shop fronts on either side of the coach entry. 64

London was a crowded and bustling city. At the time of the 1831 census, it consisted of 14,000 acres, or nearly twenty-two square miles. Its population was roughly 1,600,000, with an estimated 12,000 visitors every year. There were 90,000 passengers going across London Bridge daily. The 1,200 cabriolets, 600 hackney coaches, and 400 omnibuses caused frequent stoppages on the busy thor- oughfares. 65 The city as noisy with sounds of the night watch, milkwomen and newsmen in the early morning, chimney-sweeps and dustmen, fish venders, and all sorts of hawkers—muffin men, “buy a broom” girls, etc. Italians played hurdy-gurdies or ground out upright pianos, accompanied in entertainment by their monkeys.

How did Londoners amuse themselves? There were some fifteen theatres within the boundaries of the city. There were public bazaars for the sale of fancy articles, millinery, jewelry, etc. The Thames Tunnel, unfinished at this time, was an item of curiosity, for which the public paid a shilling to be admitted. There were numerous museums and other places of exhibition. At the lower end of St. Martin’s Lane was a place where a gigantic whale, ninety-five feet long and eighteen across, could be viewed for a shilling, two shillings to sit in the whale’s belly. The Zoological Gardens, at Regent’s Park, opened in 1828, was the larger of two such places to house exotic birds and animals. There were gambling houses and men’s clubs where gaming was tolerated - card playing, dicing and lotteries. There were horse and dog races. There were opportunities of sporting for fish and fowl, as well as fox and stag, the latter serving as an excuse for great social gatherings and the breeding of horses and hounds to intensify the sport. There were cricket matches and billiard rooms. For improving the mind and soul, there were parks and public gardens, music concerts, and art exhibits. There was Madame Tussaud’s Gallery in Baker Street, the Hippodrome at Bayswater, the Diorama in Regent’s Park, the Panorama in Leicester Square.

The taverns, where Londoners took their dinners and drank their grog, were plentiful. In the city there was one public eating and drinking trough to every fifty-six houses, called by such names as the “Cheshire Cheese”, “The Cock,” “The Coal Hole,” “The Rainbow,” “Clitter’s,” “The Albion,” “The Finish,” “The Cider Cellar,” “The Royal Saloon,” “Piccadilly,” “Offley’s,” “Kean’s Head,” and a host of others.

Beer was always the standard drink of England. Tea and coffee were too expensive for the common folk, as were cocoa and chocolate. In 1830 an act was passed to permit the sale of beer by retail, which was described by the Times as “a great victory obtained for the poor over the unpitying avarice of the rich.” 66 This act made licenses for places selling only beer easy to obtain. Every variety of the beverage was dispensed - dark and heavy Shropshire ale, luscious Burton, mellow October, solid brown stout, new ale, old ale, hard ale, soft ale, and balmy Scotch.

The drinking of gin, or “blue ruin,” was a favorite among the lower classes - the drink of women as much as of men. “Gin-shops” were no longer located solely in the dirty byways of the city. By 1834, proprietors vied for superiority of finely arranged decor by fitting their places up with rich carvings, brass work, mahogany paneling, gilding and ornamental paintings. Gin, it was stated, had become “a giant demi-god - a mighty spirit, dwelling in gaudy gold-beplas- tered temples,” where may be seen “maudlin, unwashed multitudes, . . . old men and maidens, grandsires and grandams, fathers and mothers, husbands, wives, and children, crowding, jostling, and sucking in the portions of the spirit which the flaunting priestesses dole out to them in return for their copper offerings.” 67

When Blackburn arrived in London, preparations for Victoria’s coronation were already in progress. Carpenters and upholsterers were readying the ceremonial structures at Westminster Abbey. Temporary seating, running from the nave to the choir loft, was being built for the accommodation of 1,200 of the very special people. The procession from Buckingham House to the Abbey was being planned on a splendid scale. The route was to pass along Constitution Hill, Piccadilly, St. James Street, Pall Mall, Cockspur Street, Charing Cross, Whitehall and Parliament Street, and return again to Buckingham by the same way. The avenues were being decorated with flags, banners and triumphal arches. Eventually, they would be lined with troops during the procession, and bands would be dispersed at various locations along the way. Near the Abbey, temporary galleries were being erected to accommodate the common spectators. At the entrance to the great Abbey, a Gothic porch was under construction, to be equipped with convenient retiring and robing rooms for the Queen and her suite. Large crowds of “respectable persons” were gathering at the house of Mr. Edward Howe, silk weaver in Castle Street, to observe the material used for the Queen’s robe. All England was a hubbub of activity. The excitement that filled the air was as thick as London’s fog.

After breakfast bribed a chambermaid with a shilling, got a room, and dressed and shaved, and began my peregrinations through the renowned city of London. Cony and Stevens gone out to look for lodgings; Blanchard and North walked off; I left alone in this living wilderness---thousands of faces and not know one. Took a walk around one square. I did not venture any farther. Saw a regiment of foot; got lost in looking at them. With some difficulty, found my way back to the Golden Cross, although I had not been fifty yards from it.

[Lodgings were found at 120 London Road, Surrey Side. Speaking of the charges, he adds:] In the United States it is dog eat dog, but here they are not so particular; it is dog eat anything. [He takes exception to the feeing of the chambermaid and “Boots.”] Half-past six, visited Astley’s Theatre. The first piece, “Conquest of Babylon,” one of the most gorgeous and best got-up pieces I ever witnessed. 68 I never saw anything in that way half so magnificent. Next came the equestrian performance. A Mr. Clark rode the Indian---the worst man rider I ever saw; it would have been a disgrace to old Sizer’s Steamboat Circus on the Mississippi. Mr. Woolford rode next, foot back all the time, and rest made up with different positions with a wreath. Miss Ducrow, a girl about seven years old, road very well with a cat gut string attached to her waist, run down through the pommel, and so on to the ringmaster’s hand, who, by the bye, was a nigger. Next came Mr. Price, the greatest vaulter in the world---said to be---and one of the clowns, for they had four this night. Rather shy, ain’t scared yet. He has done thirty-one somersaults. Did at four trials thirteen. He would be rather bad shaped among the Yankees.

Andrew Ducrow, with William West as a partner, had taken the management of Astley’s in 1830, where he exhibited his genius for mise-en-scene. Du- crow’s hippo dramatic compositions often consisted of civil, religious and military processions combined with an almost uninterrupted series of combats, single and double, in sets of six, eight and ten, on foot and horseback, as well as terrific engagements of whole battalions, and even armies, all of which displayed a liberal amount of killed and wounded. The number of people employed at one time by him during his management was said to have exceeded one hundred and fifty. His weekly expenses were seldom less than five hundred pounds. 69 Still, Ducrow had a contempt for the literary parts of the drama. Being illiterate, he rarely attempted speaking roles. His favorite comment while arranging scripts for the arena was, “Cut the dialect (dialogue) and come to the ‘osses.” 70

Miss Ducrow was probably Louisa Margaret Foy Wood, daughter of Du- crow’s sister, and a great favorite of Andrew. The ringmaster, John Esdaile Widdecombe (1787-1854), billed as “Methuselah,” had been with the Amphitheatre before Ducrow’s arrival. He was said to be the most noted master of the circle in the history of Astley’s or any other circus, his fame being the result of his carefully contrived appearance and conduct - ”from the scented curl of his southern brow to the elaborate splendour of his French-polished boot.” 71 But Blackburn has confused the ringmaster with a Cossack rider and pupil of Ducrow’s, Joseph Hillier, who was a Negro or a mulatto. As one jester spoke it, “Hillier has ridden until he has become black in the face.” Mr. Clark may have been John Clarke (1786?-1864), equestrian, clown, and circus proprietor, who originated Dick Turpin’s famous ride to York on the equestrian stage. He was descendant of a long line of English circus people. Sizer was an American provincial showman of little record. The very thorough Thayer noted he had a steamboat circus in 1838, but admits knowing nothing of the man personally. 72 Thomas Price, listed on the bills as the “Antipodean Wonder,” or “the Bouncing Ball,” was new to the company this season. This man, who claimed to have thrown fifty-six somersaults, one after another, will soon become prominent within our narrative.

Last of all came the renowned Ducrow, the great, the wonderful. Rode an act called “Figaro.” 73 He pantomimed well, first-rate; but he has been overrated unmercifully as a rider. He never was the rider that North is. He tried to make a finish to his act; his attitudes were all incorrect, and in throwing off he pointed his heel as much as any rider I ever saw come from the mill at Somerstown, where they make ‘em. 74 In fact, he in his time has stuck a horse well---all dash and splash, but he never was a Herr Cline for grace. So much for my first impression of Mr. D. as a rider.

Blackburn’s criticism of Ducrow is unfair. Even though he was past his peak and waning in vigor, Ducrow was, as someone put it, the inventor of histories on horseback. His equestrian poses and dances were exquisite exhibitions of classic grace and artistic imagination. The flat of a horse’s back was his stage, from which he created a style of performance copied by many of the young riders of his day. His skills in the precise movements of dressage and haute ecole are well confirmed. In the more traditional field of equitation, he was also conceded to be an expert. And, oh, Andre Cline! What an artist on the tight rope he was, this Englishman who preferred the German moniker of “Herr,” and who performed with such grace and eloquence. He first appeared in America at the Bowery Theatre, N.Y.C., 1828; and continued performing in both theatres and equestrian arenas, in America and abroad, well into the 1860’s.

The entertainment finished with a grand spectacle in honor of the young Queen, which was really very beautiful. I forgot to mention a pony, the best broken I ever saw; did tricks I could not imagine a horse could be taught. The play was out about eleven. Dropped into The Pheasant, a great resort for the equestrians. Got a pot of ale and a pipe. Introduced to old Tom Blanchard, the great Pantaloon, father of Bill, a jolly, smart old fellow.

Wednesday, 6. Levi and myself started to see the great Monsieur Ducrow. On the road fell in with Mr. Ellar, the famous Harlequin.

Tom Blanchard was a Pantaloon at Covent Garden in 1827. His last appearance in the character was at the Victoria Theatre in 1845. He also had established a reputation as a skilled broadswordsman. Old Tom died in London on August 20, 1859, age 72. Tom Ellar was one of the many great Harlequins. He performed in that role when the first English pantomime was taken to Paris in 1825. He was said to have “a curious art of spinning his head round with remarkable velocity as if the masked face was only a whirling teetotum revolving in the centre of his frilled neck.” Eventually Ellar declined from stardom to seedy music halls and then to the gutter, which inspired Thackeray to observe that the “prince of many enchanted islands, was the law-breaker for acting at a penny theatre after having well-nigh starved in the streets where nobody would listen to his old guitar. No one gave him a shilling to bless him, not one of us who owe him so much. So passes the glory of Harlequin.” The poor man died in 1840, following a benefit performance at the Victoria Theatre. 75

Arrived at the Amphitheatre, rang the bell, servant came down, sent up my letter of introduction, invited up. There we sat in his great Mogulship’s presence. Had a talk with him and arranged to come and try the board in the afternoon. Well you may talk about circus riders living, but if he don’t live like a prince I’m a dogfish. He lays back in the shade, with his morning gown on, biggest kind of an armchair, more mahogany sideboards, silver plates and marble statues. He took us into his best room. I expect he thought he would scare us at the start.

Came up to the Surrey Theatre. Met Ben Stickney. Glad to see us. Went home to dine with him.

Benjamin Stickney, the brother of S. P. Stickney (father of a famous brood of American circus performers) and John H. Stickney, was noted for his usefulness in horse dramas. He spent a large part of his career performing in England.

[Going to the Amphitheatre at two o’clock, they found it too late to try the board; so made up a party consisting of Levi North, Cony, Blanchard, Stevens and old Tom Blanchard to visit the fair in Greenwich in a “go-cart.”] The shows were the greatest curiosity; more to be seen outside than in. Richardson’s booth was our first. [He died some weeks ago worth forty thousand pounds. It is now managed by Nelson Lee.] On the platform in front, they had Harlequin, Clowns, Pantaloons, Columbines, men doing contortioning and tumbling, all kinds of tragedy chaps, a pretty good exhibition outside, with a band of twelve musicians. Paid sixpence each and went inside. Saw part of a tragedy, and left to see the other wonderments.

Passed old Saunders’ show. Jim Hunter served his time there. Price of admission only one penny. Dancing and tumbling outside. Dropped into Clarke’s to see the riders. 76 Price sixpence. Performance about twenty minutes long---little boy and girl rode; three young men in contortions, very good; and finished with Billy Button. Opened the back door and let folks out, while others came in at the front. Introduced to old Clarke, who said Matt Buckley served time with him.

John Richardson died in 1836. Lee (1806-1872), the son of a naval officer, took to the stage early in life and became a juggler with a traveling company. He developed into an actor, performing Clown, Pantaloon, and Harlequin, the latter at the Surrey Theatre in 1834. After, at various times, managing the Marylebone, Sadler’s Wells, and Standard theatres, he entered into a partnership for the proprietorship of the City of London Theatre, with which he was connected for fifteen years. Later in life, he had a hand in managing the Crystal Palace Theatre. 77

Richardson’s booth was recorded in 1825 as accommodating more than a thousand people, where standing room was the general state of affairs. Outside, an elevated platform, lined at the back with green drapes and ornamented with hundreds of lamps of various colors, served to “bally” the entertainment within. The noise of the uniformed band drew the crowds, before which the members of the company promenaded around the stage in full costume. “Just a-going to begin! Pray come for’erd, come for’erd!” was the cry. The company advertised a change of performance each day, “an entire new melodrama,” concluding with a “New Comic Harlequinade, with New Scenery, Tricks, Dresses, and Decorations.” Charles Dickens described a performance of Richardson’s show at Greenwich Fair as a melodrama with three murders and a ghost, a pantomime, a comic song, an overture, and some incidental music, all done in five-and-twenty minutes. 7878 The great actor, Edmund Kean, was one of the many who got their start with John Richardson’s fair show. In addition to performing in the pantomimes and melodramas, Kean gave Shakespearean recitals to audiences much like those who stood in the pit of the old Globe Theatre in Elizabethan times. 79

Greenwich Fair was similar to the several other annual pleasure festivals - Stourbridge, Southwark, Bartholomew, et al, where rides, stalls, and show booths were lined up, side-by-side, much like our present day carnival midways. In 1837, Bartholomew Fair was described as “a scene of unbridled profligacy, licentiousness, and drunkenness, with fighting, both of fists and cudgels, pumping on pickpockets, robbery and cheating, noise and shouting, the braying of trumpets and the banging of drums.” 80

Abraham Saunders (1747?-1839) began his circus proprietorship in the latter part of the eighteenth century and continued well over fifty years. He got his training as an equestrian and rope-dancer at the original Astley’s Amphitheatre. While his show was at Bartholomew Fair in 1801, one his performers, a young man named Carey, fell while conducting a tumbling act as a monkey. This ended the circus career of the great Edmund Kean. The Jim Hunter referred to is the English equestrian from Astley’s Amphitheatre, who was recruited and brought to America by Stephen Price in 1822 to become the first real bareback riding star in this country. He returned to England in 1829 and performed in fairs and other cheap events. One day, in a drunken spree, he stole a coat from Ben Stickney and, for this offense, he was tried, convicted and sentenced to the penal colony in Australia. It is true that Matthew B. Buckley, rider, general performer, and showman, began as a clown at English fairs. Price and Simpson brought him to America in 1826, where he was connected with many circuses as well as managing his own. He was the father of Harry, Edward and Page Buckley.

[Blackburn relates an amusing incident of their homeward trip. They hired a carriage and:] Came home at a pretty good jog. Driver too smart for Stevens, who gave him a shilling. Driver told Stevens he had made a mistake and given him a sovereign. Stevens gave him another shilling for his honesty. After he had gone, Stevens found his sovereign-brass. The fellow had palmed a George the Fourth medal on him. Supper, and went to Davis’ tap. Pot of half-and-half and a screw of tobacco. Saw the master carpenter of the Victoria Theatre. Engaged him to make a vaulting board.

This was the old Cobourg Theatre, re-christened in 1833, as a result of then Princess Victoria visiting there. It served for some years as a house of melodrama. “The lower orders rush there in mobs,” wrote the prominent actor Charles Mathews, “and, in shirt sleeves, applaud frantically, drink ginger-beer, munch apples, crack nuts, call the actors by their Christian names, and throw them or- ange-peel and apples by way of bouquets.”

[While waiting for the completion of the vaulting board, frequent walks and talks were taken, and frequent references made to Ben Stickney.]

Saturday, 9. Something new, a large wagon traveling continually over the city---you pay a certain sum for the privilege of sticking bills on it. [An incident of the next Sunday:] During dinner a man commenced a sermon in the street opposite our window. But it was no go; he could not gather a crowd, and gave it up as a bad job. So he walked away, thinking like many a poor theatrical after playing to a bad house, that it was not his bad acting, but entirely owing to the corrupted taste of the people.

Tuesday, 12. [He speaks of meeting with Deaf Burke, the great fighting man of England, at his favorite resort, Davis’ tap.] Burke speaks very highly of the United States, but damns the Irish on account of the affair at New Orleans.

James “Deaf” Burke was Jem Ward’s successor as champion of England. Shortly after he assumed the title, a fight at St. Albans between Burke and Simon Byrne changed the course of his career. The bout lasted ninety-eight rounds. The two battled for three hours and sixteen minutes, the longest championship fight on record. Byrne died from the beating he took. Disconsolate over the affair, Burke went into retirement. Shortly, Samuel O’Rourke, who became the Irish title holder after Byrne’s death, threw out a challenge; but Burke refused the fight when O’Rourke insisted on the match being held in Ireland, realizing that feelings were still running high from the Byrne tragedy.

With few opponents available, O’Rourke sailed for America. Arriving in New York City, he let it be known that Burke was afraid to fight him. Meanwhile, Burke was unable to get major fights at home because of lingering public revulsion; so he too left for the United States, arriving in New York in February of 1834, ready to accept O’Rourke’s challenge. But the Irishman was no longer there. He had moved to New Orleans and opened a tavern, which became a favorite haunt of longshoremen, sailors and various kinds of hoodlums. And from his southern citadel, safely surrounded by his entourage of toughs and sons of Erin, O’Rourke announced in the newspapers his claim of the “championship of the world” and offered to fight anyone for a side bet of one thousand dollars. Meanwhile, while O’Rourke was “the peacock” of New Orleans, Burke was encountering difficulty in obtaining anything but small-money exhibition fights. On hearing of O’Rourke’s challenge, he raised a portion of the bet money and set sail for New Orleans.

The match was arranged, the ring set up on a site outside of New Orleans, and the crowd gathered. The host of onlookers was composed of “fashionable Creoles, French gamblers, half-breeds, Yankee sharps, Irish toughs, and smugglers and picaroons from the Barataria swamps and lakes.” Both fighters came with their army of supporters, flashing pistols, bowie knives, and clubs.

The brawl began as one might expect, with insults being thrown from all sides. In the third round, Burke closed O’Rourke’s right eye with two hammer blows. With that, one of O’Rourke’s cornermen sprang at Burke with a bowie knife. Burke turned on him and, with one punch, put him on his back. At once, O’Rourke’s infuriated thugs surrounded Burke with intentions of murder. Realizing the danger, Burke flailed his way through the crowd and fled into a wooded area, where one of his backers had a horse standing ready for such an emergency. Coincidentally, the man was James Caldwell, owner of the St. Charles Theatre. Burke wasted no time. He sped back to the city, across Canal Street, down Camp Street, and directly to the theatre. There he dismounted, burst through the stage door, and ran onto the stage of the St. Charles, where he interrupted Junius Brutus Booth in a rehearsal of “Hamlet.” He was taken to Booth’s dressing room until police arrived, then spirited out of town on a Mississippi steamer for St. Louis and safety. 81 This melodramatic encounter is what Blackburn referred to in his dairy: that Burke still “damns the Irish on account of the affair in New Orleans.”

On his return from America, Burke took a benefit at the New Shooting Gallery, Saville Place, Leicester Square, on June 11. In addition to a demonstration of sparring, he exhibited his imitations of Venetian Statues, begowned in appropriate costumes. And, with a keen sense of the theatrical, he threw down his American championship belt as a symbolic challenge for the championship of England.

[During the waiting for the vaulting board, Mrs. Cony had gone to housekeeping, and the “American colony,” with the exception of Stevens, so often referred to, had taken up residence with the Conys. On the 12th he writes:] Mr. Moles brought the board home shortly after dinner. Could not get it through the entry. Brought it through the front and back windows into the garden. Fixed it up. Levi tried it; did not do very well. Did sixteen on it. Myself and Blanchard made garden. Levi tried the board again before supper with the same success. After supper visited the Garrick Theatre. Much pleased with Bill Wood’s playing of the mute in a new piece of much interest, called “Dumb Man of Manchester;” his acting was very beautiful---the best pantomime acting I ever witnessed. Met with a brother of little Harry Lewis. This is the first time I ever went to a theatre in the daylight and had the daylight to come home in. The nights are very short here, a little past one when the play was out, and the day breaking.

The Garrick Theatre was built in Leman Street, Whitechapel, in 1830. It always held a low position and had difficulty attracting responsible management. It was probably at this time that performances were given twice daily, much like a “penny show.” Befitting of the place, Bill Wood was a performer of the same mold as Cony and Blanchard. The play that Blackburn attended, “Dumb Man of Manchester,” was a melodrama by B. F. Rayner.

Harry Lewis was the son of the noted British actor, William T. “Gentleman” Lewis. Harry, who left England in 1835 to perform in America, was a poor imitation of his father, on the stage and off.

Wednesday, 13. After breakfast Levi tried the board again. Could not do over sixteen or seventeen somersaults. Found out that the board was too long, making it tremble in “beating it,” which caused it to counter-beat. Levi went to see Mr. Moles to have it altered. Deaf Burke came to dine with us. Burke, Blanchard, Cony and myself hired a wherry to see a boat race from Westminster Bridge to Putney Bridge, a distance of seven miles. Away we went up the river at a rapid rate, Burke and Cony pulling, myself and Bill looking on. [A glowing description of the sights along the Thames follows, and an animated account of the race between the two eight-oared crews is given. They got a ducking in a pouring rain, and arrived home like drowned rats. On the return, Cony and Blanchard pulled at the oars:] Burke amusing me with songs. He sings like a raven.

Thursday, 25. 82 Levi improving; did twenty-five. [It appears by several entries in the log that Price had already become jealous of North, the Yankee stranger, and proceeded to imitate the newcomer’s vaulting board.]

It is important to clarify the type of vaulting which will form the manner of contest between North and Price. The art of vaulting was carried to its extreme in the nineteenth century through feats of perilously long somersaulting jumps over animals or other obstacles. The performer ran down a ramp at high speed to where an ash or hickory springboard served as a catapult to propel the leap. The foot and a half wide ramps varied in length depending on the nature of the event, some extending for over fifty feet, with inclines of from as much as ten feet at the top descending to some five or six feet where it met the springboard. Each performer took his turn in attempts to outdo the other in height, distance, and stamina, turning one or two somersaults before alighting on straw-filled mats placed at the far end. The ultimate occurred with the lining together of innumerable horses, elephants and other objects to create a pyramid effect, the degree of difficulty increasing with each successive jump. The competitive nature of this type of performance served to enhance audience interest and to develop super stardom, box office appeal, for the athletes involved. This was probably the most dangerous act within the 19th century circus program. 83 Many were the leapers who lost their lives as they misjudged their flight and landed upside-down, breaking their necks.

It appears that the North and Price contests were not examples of distance and height, but, rather, tests of endurance. The competitors bounced on a springboard, turned a somersault, and landed on a mattress placed in the ring. It is unclear as to whether or not they ran down a ramp to accomplish their leaps. Achievement was judged by the number of successive somersaulting jumps thrown by each performer. Considering the repetitive nature of the event, one must assume that without the competitive element within the act the spectators could easily lose interest. The use of clowns, supporting each contestant, urging the crowd on and capering in the arena between vaults, created an additional element of interest.

Thursday, 14. Walked as far as Astley’s. Price has got two bars to his board. Levi saw Mr. Broadfoot, Ducrow’s agent. Wanted us to come a week on trial. No go. Mr. Ducrow out of town, keeping his honeymoon, having been married last Sunday to Miss Woolford. We see him next Monday about engagement. In the evening, Levi and myself went to the Amphitheatre. A Miss Lee rode much better than Miss Woolford. A new Christmas entree, very beautiful. Stickney rode two horses, carrying the boy very well. Went into the famed long room at Astley’s, a perfect sight for an equestrian. Looked like a fair, undressing.

William D. Broadfoot also performed in the ring spectacles and stage managed them when Ducrow was ill or otherwise occupied. He was married to Ducrow’s sister, Emily. His temperament must have been similar to his em- ployer’s, for he was known as “the great swearer,” because of his conduct when things were going badly. A. Y. Broadfoot, William’s brother, also worked for Ducrow in some minor capacity.

The “Miss Woolford” was Louisa Woolford, daughter of Robert Woolford and sister of George, who in 1828, at age 14, had made her debut with Ducrow’s company. She was described at that time as “a very attractive and promising young lady.” Within the next ten years, she developed into a popular arenic attraction, second only to Ducrow himself. 84 The death of Ducrow’s wife, Margaret, in January of 1837, opened the way for the marriage of Louisa and Andrew, an event which occurred on June 10, 1838.

The Miss Lee would be Rosina Lee, who made her debut as one of Du- crow’s infant performers around 1827, billed as “La Petite Lee.” One of her numbers in the 1838 production was called “The Greek Maid.”

[On Tuesday next he:] Did not go out all day. Jack Johnson called and read one act of play he is writing for Cony. Levi tried board; did twenty-eight, and tore his trousers.

[The entry for Sunday gives a pretty domestic picture:] Cony and Jack Johnson gone sailing on the Thames; Bill out on a private visit; Levi writing letter to Ned Derious; Mrs. Cony sewing window curtains; Ann, the servant girl, preparing dinner; David scouring the knives; old Bruin asleep in his kennel; and I writing journal. Deaf Burke came to dinner.

Monday, 18. A Mr. Gilbert came to see Cony, a young actor who had acted with him in America. Deaf Burke accompanied him. [The next evening he again visited Astley’s.] 85 Saw Mr. Hicken ride “The Sailor.” Think he is the best I have seen yet. Finished with “The Battle of Waterloo.” Have seen it done better in America.

Edward Hicken (1802-1887), who, with Hillier and Stickney, were the principal male riders, had joined Ducrow in 1837. Prior to that, he was with Ryan’s circus in Birmingham. The sailor act Blackburn refers to was Ducrow’s “Vicissitudes of a Tar,” but Hicken rode it under the title “A Tale of the Sea.”

“The Battle of Waterloo“ was written by J. H. Amherst. It incorporated all the spectacle of color, costume, military maneuvering, and horsemanship one could imagine in a single piece. Each act ended with a “general contest” of horse and foot. There was a Grand Entry of the French military, including Napoleon himself; a soldier was dragged off with one foot in the stirrup; Prussian infantrymen were rescued from drowning; a commander’s horse was shot from under him; the Duke of Wellington conducted a Grand Review; cannons roared; colors were floated in triumph; a town went up in flames; and volleys of Roman candles flashed about. In short, the expanse of the entire field of battle was condensed into the space of Astley’s oval. 86

Wednesday, 20. Went to the Victoria to see Hart’s new piece, “Mary Le Moor“---a fine piece, and well played. Oxberry played a cockney to admiration.

Thursday, 21. After breakfast, walked to the Amphitheatre. Met with Price, Bullock the clown, and Stickney. 87 Price showed his snuff box. Almost a young coffin, and a medal nearly large enough for a coffin plate, which he received for doing thirty-one somersaults. Coming home saw three men singing and begging in the streets; called themselves “poor farmer boys”---each about forty years of age! Jack Johnson dined with us and read a new piece he had been writing for Blanchard---very good. After dinner, Cony, Jack and myself visited the King’s Bench Prison, a large and comfortable place of confinement for debtors. Quite a little town, a walled city in miniature---shoemaker, tailor, barber and other shops, two taverns, fine ground for exercise, ball alleys, etc. You would hardly call it confinement. Witnessed a sack race, which was very amusing.

During this period, people unable or unwilling to pay their debts could be arrested and imprisoned at the suit of anyone to whom they owed money. The Imprisonment for Debt Act of 1827 mandated that the debt be in excess of £20. The offender was released upon complete restitution. In contrast to general prisoners, debtors enjoyed certain advantages. Their families were allowed to accompany them into their incarceration, they could entertain visitors, and could bring in certain items, such as tobacco and other sundries. Each debtor paid rent according to his status and the privileges he and his family received. Queen’s Bench was famous for the latitude allowed its residents. Drinking, smoking and roistering were a nightly pastime at its Brace Tavern, where the best stout in the city was to be had.

In London there were three establishments set aside for housing such truants: Marshalsea, Fleet, and Queen’s Bench Prison. According to a late 18th century report, Queen’s Bench, bounded by St. George’s Fields, Blackman Street, and Borough High Street, consisted of a coffee house, a tap house and several structures for lodging and servicing the prisoners. The whole place was enclosed with a wall about thirty feet in height. King’s Bench was burned by rioters in 1780, but the rebuilding was similar to what has just been described. 88

It was said that the debtors’ prisons belonged to the great middle class. The “villainous ghost” of insolvency or bankruptcy “seized its victims by the collar and hauled them within the walls of a Debtors’ Prison, where it made them abandon hope, and abide there till the day of death.” 89

Went to Davis’ and met Bullock the clown and Mr. Benedict, a chorus singer at the St. Charles Theatre, New Orleans, in 1836.

After tea, Levy and myself took a cab to Vauxhall Gardens, an enchanting place, beautiful beyond description.

Vauxhall Gardens opened its 1838 season on June 13, with admission prices being lowered to one shilling. A “magnificent” new building had been erected at the site of the old firework tower for the purpose of launching the monstrous Nassau balloon. The walks had been re-graveled and the buildings newly painted and embellished. At the termination of the principal walk, an allegorical representation of Neptune rising from the ocean astride a decorative shell and drawn by five marine horses replaced the statuary formerly resting on the site.

Vauxhall Gardens was one of the great 18th century outdoor amusements. After Jonathan Tyers acquired the gardens in 1728, he developed them into a favorite summer meeting place. Everyone went to the Gardens, the rich and the poor, the respectable and those who were not. Londoners from all walks of life congregated on the grounds to listen to the musical concerts, to dance, enjoy the shady nooks or repose in the soft illumination of the evening gas lights and wander along the flowery paths. 90 There was dining in the painted arbors where one feasted on Vauxhall ham - ”sliced cobwebs”; Vauxhall beef - ”book muslin, pickled and boiled”; and heavens! that wonderful Vauxhall punch. There were fireworks and rope dancing and balloon ascensions. Indeed, there was something for everyone and everyone for something.

Formerly called Foxhall or Spring Garden, the place opened about the middle of May and closed at the end of August, with the public being admitted only on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays throughout that period. The concerts commenced at 8:00 p.m. At the peak of popularity, daily attendance ran between 5,000 and 15,000. The gardens’ hey-day was from 1750 to 1790, after which the place went into a slow decline, surviving until 1859 when the grounds were sold.

The first thing on entering the enclosure is a splendidly illuminated, covered walk around three sides of a square some hundred feet in extent; the lamps, which amounted to some seven or eight million, of variegated colors, forming different devices---coat-of-arms, flags, festoons. And in the center of the square stood a beautiful temple of the Grecian order, about fifty feet in height, covered with lamps representing a temple of fire. Emerging from the square were the walks, winding through all parts of the garden, rows of lamps and hundreds of beautiful statues on either side. At the end of one of the walks was a beautiful jet d’eau of Neptune drawn by five sea horses, the water flying from their nostrils and his trident to a great height, forming the most imposing group of statuary I ever saw. In passing around the different walks the attention is attracted by a great variety of artificial scenes, which appear almost natural, such as “The Cave of the Hermit,” the fire burning cheerfully, and “The Monk at His Devotions,” with the moon shining very naturally through the window of an old abbey. About eight p.m. a large bell was rung, to notify the visitors of the commencement of the different performances which were to take place during the evening. They began with a beautiful waltz, played by a full military band in the temple. Their places were then taken by a full orchestra, which played a grand overture; after which four songs by four different gentlemen and one by a lady---all sang finely. The bell rang again. Following the crowd, we were brought up to the Rotunda Theatre, a very pretty theatre, capable of holding two thousand persons. The performances here commenced with a young man playing two airs on the accordion, which he did exquisitely. I never thought the instrument could be brought to such perfection. He was followed by a lady on the harp, accompanied by a man playing on his chin, who executed very rapidly. Next came a play, in which Mr. Buckingham gave some excellent impersonations of Kean and Mathew’s; which were done excellently well if I could judge by the applause bestowed upon him. The entertainment at the Rotunda terminated with a new style of statues after Canova by two men, three women and one child. This was the most beautiful exhibition it has been my lot to witness, especially the statues of “The Graces” by the women. With such exquisite forms, dressed in white tights, giving them the appearance of marble, a person could hardly imagine they were real flesh and blood. Bell rang again, bringing us to the “Thalian Walk,” five hundred feet in length, at the end of which were two fine statues of Napoleon and Wellington. The next exhibition was the Ballet Theatre, where four splendid panoramic scenes were exhibited, one of the rising sun at sea was really grand. The whole affair terminated at eleven p.m. with one of the most magnificent displays of fireworks I ever beheld. Got home at half-past eleven, well satisfied with the excursion; and so cheap, too---only one shilling. It was, as the old saying goes, “rather too much pork for a shilling.”

[This ends Log No. 4.]

Sunday, 24. [He refers to preparations going on for the coronation of the Queen, and adds:] Dined with Stickney at his brother-in-law’s, a Mr. Scott, drygoods merchant, Westminster Road.

Monday, 25. Did not go out till night. Went to Victoria Theatre. Cony and Blanchard’s first appearance since their return from America. Bill played the Ou- rang-Outang well; was called out by the audience and made a speech. Cony played the Cherokee Chief well, with great applause, and was called for at the finish of the entertainment. Concluded with “The Sprig of Laurel,” a Mr. Hall playing Nipperkin the worse kind.

Perhaps the unfortunate Mr. Hall in O’Keefe’s farce, “The Rival Soldiers, or The Sprigs of Laurel,” was the Harry Hall who made his American debut in 1855. Ireland states the he was “an actor of good repute from London” but that he “gained no permanent position on the New York stage.” 91 Score another for Blackburn’s critical judgment. Hall died in Cincinnati three years after his New York arrival at the age of fifty.

Got home at half-past two. Mrs. C. rather in a bad humor at our being out so late. “The American Colony” must have enjoyed pipes and ale at Price’s tap after the performance. Perhaps old Blanchard spun yarns, and Deaf Burk sang like a raven.

Tuesday, 26. Mr. Ducrow having returned, we called on him and made an engagement for two weeks, Levi vaulting one week and riding the second, and myself playing clown to his acts. [He then speaks of mailing letters to C. J. Rogers and Ned Derious:] In the bag of ship Montreal for New York; paid sixpence for the privilege of looking at the New York papers. Rather skinning, that. After tea, went to the Amphitheatre. Ducrow and wife rode a new act, “The Mountain Maid and Tyrolean Shepherd.” One of their best; it was a very pretty one. Two children did “The Jingling Jumpers of Pekin.” It is the old leaping bar business with the pillars and stump. Dressed Chinese. A new grand pageant in honor of the Queen, using both the ring and the stage. It was magnificent.

“The Mountain Maid, etc” was not new. Ducrow had used it in other seasons, with both Louisa Woolford and his sister, Margaret, as a partner. It appears that the act was got up again especially for the debut of the new bride and groom. Ducrow included a “Musical Burletta Pageant” on the subject of the coronation in June. A few weeks later, an even more ambitious spectacle was mounted, with Mrs. Hillier as the Queen, seated on a richly caparisoned horse atop a platform supported on the shoulders of “her devoted subjects.” 9292

Thursday, 28. Now comes the grand day, i.e., the coronation. Cannon commenced firing and bells ringing at half-past three a.m. Everybody traveling. Could not sleep for the uproar, so got up. After breakfast, Cony, Bill, Levi and myself started. The streets were crowded with people in all kinds of vehicles and on foot. After crossing Waterloo Bridge we found difficulty in making headway. We finally worked our way near Charing Cross, where we got a standing place. Such a dense mass of people I never saw before---thousands on thousands, as many as the streets could hold; and the housetops crowded; also the whole fronts of the houses, where galleries had been erected, and single seats sold for from one to five guineas. The way was cleared by the police and mounted Life Guard. The procession came in sight---first the band and mounted household troops, and the Ambassadors Extraordinary in splendid coaches. The most beautiful was that of Marshal Soult, who was cheered by the multitude enthusiastically. Next came the different ministers, whose coaches were very gorgeous; with the exception of the American minister’s, which was very plain. Next came the royal family, Duke of Sussex, Prince George of Cambridge and staff officers, Duke of Wellington, Lord Hill and Her Majesty’s household in twelve splendid coaches, each drawn by six horses. Last was the state coach containing Queen Victoria, a magnificent affair drawn by eight creams. It appeared as if built entirely of gold. When she passed the air rang with shouts which made the ground shake. The procession was about an hour in passing; and I never expect to see such a beautiful sight again.

Victoria had become Queen of England on June 20, 1837, following the death of her uncle, King William IV. Coronation Day, which took place on June 28, 1838, began badly, with a cold shower around 8:00 a.m., but soon cleared off. The procession started from Buckingham Palace at 10:00 a.m. and reached Westminster Abbey at 11:30. There the ceremony proceeded smoothly until 3:45, after which the Queen entertained a dinner party of one hundred guests and, in the evening, witnessed the fireworks discharged in Green Park.

We elbowed our way out of the crowd after some difficulty and started for Hyde Park to visit the fair, which was the largest ever in England---something like six hundred booths of all descriptions, shows, taverns, and gingerbread shops. And all kinds of sports were going on---swings, roundabouts, target shooting, donkey riding, etc. Went into Clarke’s Circus; got something to eat; and got home at five o’clock, heartily tired. After tea, went to Victoria Theatre. Waited until Cony and Bill had done playing. At ten, started for a walk to see the illuminations. The streets were crowded as they were during the day. The houses were splendidly illuminated with gas, variegated lamps, etc., with all kinds of devices. The club houses were the most magnificent, being entirely covered with lights having the appearance of temples of gaslight. We made our way to Hyde Park, the fair still going on with the same vigor, and more people than during the day. A grand display of fireworks took place, this beyond description. We left at three a.m., the shows still open, having exhibited in the morning. Old Clarke said he had given thirty-two exhibitions. We walked home by daylight.

The fair, comprising an area one-third of Hyde Park, was originally scheduled to last two days, but, due to its success, continued for four. It functioned under a government permit issued to the proprietors of a show that had formerly been under the management of Richardson. The booths were arranged in a rectangle of approximately 1,400 by 1,000 square feet. The one which was said to have attracted the most attention, from its size alone, was that of a Mr. Williams, a celebrated boiled beef monger of the Old Bailey. For a small sum one could sit atop his pavilion to witness the nightly display of fireworks. In other booths, beef, ham, chicken, beer and wine were equally plentiful. Going from food to other matters, one might pass exhibits of fat boys, living skeletons, Irish giants, Welsh dwarfs, two-headed curiosities and other such wonders of nature. There were magicians and tumblers, pony and donkey rides, archery and stick throwing, as well as roundabouts, swings and the like. 93

Saturday, 30. At ten a.m., went to the Amphitheatre and practiced vaulting, which had been called, Ducrow directing it. It was really amusing to hear him swear at his men, calling them lummoxes, etc. I hardly think a set of Yankees would stand for it.

Ducrow had a quick temper. Charles Dickens gave him the title of “The Napoleon of the Arena.” But, for all that, he was said to be exceedingly generous and courageous.

Levi did thirty-one and twenty-seven. Price could not get over twenty-two. Both had boards in the ring, and two parties, English and American.

Monday, (July) 2. At ten a.m. went to the Amphitheatre to rehearse vaulting. Levi did thirty-two. Ducrow swore at his men as usual. After dinner, packed up our dresses for the debut tonight. Half past six, after the first piece, all ready for the trial of skill between the champions of England and America. Levi was frightened almost to death and I sweat like a bull with the excitement. All our friends in front---Cony, Blanchard, Stevens, and their friends. Deaf Burke in the pit, directing the boards how to be fixed. And Yankee Hill, J. Wallack, and Taglioni, the great dancer, also in front, with a great number of foreign ambassadors, nobility, etc. All ready with two boards and two parties, American and English, with flags of two countries posted over the starting place. Price did twenty somersaults. And then came the Yankee and did thirty-three. Then wasn’t there shouting! I guess there was. Well satisfied with the result. So much for our debut at the famous Astley’s Amphitheatre.

Before Levi and Price go at it again, I will take this opportunity to insert a letter Blackburn sent to his family in Baltimore. 94

London, July 18, 1838
Dear Parents,
     It is not quite a month since I wrote last, but having an opportunity of sending this by a friend, who leaves here in the Great Western, which starts the 21st inst., I thought I would write to let you know that myself, as well as my friend North, are well and much pleased with our trip. We made our appearance at Astley’s Amphitheatre two weeks since in the vaulting - North, as the American champion, vaulting against Mr. Price, the champion of all Europe, having two spring boards in the ring at once, and two parties, American and English, with the colors of each country on the heads of their horses; myself playing clown to the American party. You may well imagine my feelings the first night, as well as North. I must say I was frightened dreadfully; not for myself, but for North. I thought he would be so excited that he might get beat; but the trial came, and such a brilliant audience I never had the honor of making a bow to before; nearly two-thirds ladies; even the four or five front seats in the pit were filled entirely with ladies. Nearly all the foreign ambassadors were in front, also, Taglioni, the great dancer. Great excitement prevailed. When the finish of the vaulting came, the Champion of England (Price) went on to do his row of somersets, and only threw twenty. Then came the applause; they were certain North could not beat it; but the little Yankee went on and beat him scandalously, doing thirty-three. Such a shout I never heard; I thought the house would come down. If I ever felt well, it was just about that time. We have played twelve nights and have been beaten only one. So you see Uncle Sam is ably represented, for we have truly astonished the natives. North rides next week, and they will be more astonished then, for they have no rider to compete with him in this country; and I think I can beat any of them playing clown. I have seen eight clowns already, and none of them are passable. We have not as yet come to any final arrangement with Ducrow for the season, as we only engaged three weeks to show them what we could do. I cannot tell yet whether we shall stop here or not, as we have had letters from two managers - Mr. Cook, at Hull, and Ryan, at Halifax. We shall go where we can do best, for salaries are rather low in this country. Ducrow’s best rider only gets £6 pounds per week; and Price, the vaulter, gets the same. A number of other performers get from £1 5s. to £2. He gives North and myself twelve guineas per week. If we can get a benefit with it, it will do very well. So much for our success; and now I must tell you what I have seen.

    Now for sight No. 2., Monday, July 9th. Went to Hyde park to witness the Grand Review of the Troops by the Queen. After a good deal of trouble, obtained a standing place on a table for two shillings. In all crowds like this, the poor people run with their chairs, to be let for one penny to a crown. More than 200,000 persons were supposed to be on the ground as spectators. The troops were drawing up on a line on our arrival. Shortly afterwards, the Queen arrived in an open carriage. Her attendants followed in three splendid coaches; they, followed by two hundred officers of distinction on horseback, in splendid uniforms. The most conspicuous were Marshal Soult, Duke of Nemours, Lord Wellington, Lord Hill, etc.
    After the Queen passed the length of the line, the troops commenced maneuvering; the artillery were fired, also the cavalry, which amounted to about 5,000 men—the Oxford Blues, Life Guard, 10th Hussars, and some others; 3,000 were on jet black horses, the rest bays. This was a noble sight when charging in a body. The infantry firing was splendid—20,000 men firing together and appearing as one crash.
    It was over at 3:00 p.m., and I got out of the crowd with some difficulty, well satisfied that this was the best sight I had seen yet. So much for the Grand Review, and now for sight No. 3. July 10th took a wherry to Westminster Bridge, rowed down the Thames and visited the Tower; paid 1s. for admittance, bought a catalogue book, and 1s. for the Beefeater or conductor.
    First room, ancient armory, the kings of England and the knights on horseback, with the armor and the identical arms they wore at that time. This was very interesting, something like 30 figures as large as life. Also, different arms used from the time of William the Conqueror to the present day. Next room, Queen Elizabeth’s armory, a great number of ancient weapons, instruments of torture—the ax which Charles I, Sir Walter Raleigh, Sally Jane Grey and some others, were beheaded with. Next, the small armory, a room 345 feet in length, containing 270,000 stands of arms. This was a beautiful sight. Walls were embellished with different devices—formed with swords, pistols, bayonets, etc., forming pillars, stars, wreaths, etc. The heavy armory was also very interesting - cannon of every description, from the first made in England to the present day. Also many pieces taken in different battles. Paid 2s. more to see the Crown Jewels. This I could give no idea of, only to think it is a pity they should be there. I should be perfectly satisfied with one diamond from the crown, out of the hundreds it contains. It is worth £112,000, about a half million dollars. We were next shown the room where the Duke of Clarence was drowned in the butt of malmsey, also where Richard III had the princes smothered, besides many other little things quite interesting. On coming home, saw the great Nassau balloon go up with nine persons. This was a grand affair. These are the principal things I have seen since my last.
Joe Blackburn
    P.S. The trial of skill between North and Price has drawn the largest houses during the season, and created a great deal of excitement. There is a pretty heavy betting all over the house every night. North got great applause when he done forty-one, and got a medal from Ducrow.

Tuesday, 3. Levi practiced riding; horse did not suit. Told Ducrow that the horse did not suit him, and he was not inclined to lose the good name he had acquired in his own country; that he was as great a man in the United States as Ducrow was in England, and if he rode he must have a horse to suit him. Another horse was ordered in, which did very well. Second night Price did twenty-nine, North thirty-one. Hard pushed, he came off victorious. Hurrah for Yankee Doodle and her brood! The English party down in the mouth.

Wednesday, July 4. The glorious anniversary of our independence. Called on Yankee Hill, found him at home, drank two glasses of wine to our home and absent friends, read American papers, looked at American paintings, etc. In vaulting tonight, American party got beat, Price doing thirty-five, the most he had ever done. Hurrahing on their side. Our side had nothing to say.

Thursday, 5. In vaulting, American party again victorious. First, Price twenty-one, Levi twenty-three; Price twenty-six, Levi twenty-nine.

Friday, 6. Levi practiced vaulting and riding; did thirty-five. Price also practiced, tying Levi.

Night vaulting, Price thirty-two, Levi thirty-seven. Now the English party have nothing to brag of. Mr. Ducrow invites us into his private box, which was an unprecedented act with him.

Saturday, 7. Vaulting again. Astonished the natives. Price did twenty-six, Levi thirty-nine. Price tried again; did twenty-one. Levi just topped him, doing twenty-three. The house fairly shook again with shouts.

Monday, 9. The vaulting record: Levi thirty-five, Price thirty.

Tuesday, 10. Levi thirty-four, Price thirty.

Wednesday, 11. Levi thirty-nine, Price twenty-nine.

Thursday, 12. Levi thirty-six and thirty-two; Price thirty and twenty-three.

Friday, 13. Price thirty-two; Levi forty-one. Immense applause from the audience. First time forty somersaults has been done in England.

Saturday, 14. Price thirty-five; Levi thirty-six. A close contest and great excitement among the audience. Saw bills for next week; found Levi in for horsemanship and vaulting. Did not agree to do but one. Wrote note to Ducrow to that effect. Stopped in the Amphitheatre till twelve in hopes of getting an answer.

Sunday, 15. Ten a.m. Our note was returned by Ducrow’s servant, Arthur, stating that it could not be received until it came in a proper manner---that is, sealed. A few minutes after, Mr. Ducrow’s factotum, Broadfoot, called and excused the matter of putting Levi in for two acts, and wished to know what our intentions were in shape of an engagement. We deferred answering him until next week.

Monday, 16. At night Levi road very well. Vaulting, Levi thirty-five, Price thirty-two.

Tuesday, 17. North thirty-four, Price twenty-three.

Wednesday, 18. Levi thirty-five, Price thirty.

Thursday, 19. Levi gave them a big pile---forty-four; Price thirty-two. After the performance, took a stroll to see some of the life in London. First place stopped at was the Shades, about three stories underground. Here there was singing and drinking going on.

Friday, 20. Levi thirty-seven, Price twenty-nine.

Saturday, 21. Levi thirty-one, Price thirty-three, being the second time Levi has been beaten in three weeks. Had some words with Broadfoot about engagement.

Sunday, 22. Had a note from Mr. Ducrow that he had taken us out of next week’s bill. This was a finale to our playing at Astley’s.

Monday, 23. At night went in front at Astley’s. On coming out, was told by doorkeeper that Mr. West was insulted by our not coming to terms, and our further admission was stopped. Did not care a damn.

Tuesday, 24. Eight p.m., went to Haymarket Theatre; saw three pieces--- an olio by Messrs. Seguin, Frazer, Mrs. Waylett and Mrs. Honey, finishing with “New Notions,” in which my old friend Yankee Hill appeared and caused much laughter.

These actors were serio-comic singing artists. Edward Seguin, a basso, was a graduate of the British Academy of Music. After making his theatrical debut in 1831, he became known as the superior to any in his field. Frazer was a tenor of some importance, who, like Seguin, was soon to perform in America. Mrs. Waylett was called “one of the most charming singers and piquant actresses of the century;” and Mrs. Honey “could always draw delighted audiences by her singing and acting.” The two were praised for “beauty of voice, exquisite method and expression.” 95

Thursday, 26. Received a letter from Ryan, giving us our terms. After dinner wrote a long letter to Ducrow, giving a full explanation of Broadfoot’s conduct.

Friday, 27. In the afternoon, Levi had an interview with Ducrow, who was sorry that any misunderstanding had happened, and said his house was always open to us for any time and any length of time.

Saturday 28. Went to the Italian Opera with Ducrow; drank champagne, ate ice cream, and ogled the ladies through a double-barreled spyglass.

Tuesday, 31. On arriving at the steamer, met Deaf Burke, who came to see us off to Yorkshire to join Ryan’s company. Passed down “Old Father Thames,” as they call it, but it is not much larger than a good sized creek in America. Passage to Hull was to be ten shillings, but they generally manage to make it up to double by their genteel way of robbery. For instance: dinner, 2s. 6d.; bed, 2s. 6d.; steward’s fee, 1s. 6d.; supper, bread and butter and bad tea, 2s.; breakfast, worse coffee and bread, 2s. This is not highway robbery, but piracy in a small way. Got to bed at eleven p.m---that is, if you could call it a bed, one foot by five. I managed to lay in it edgewise for the night.

Blackburn is off to join Ryan’s company in the north central area of England. At this time we are seeing the beginning of the era of great urban growth, a growth so rapid that by 1851 more than half the population were living in municipalities of 10,000 or more. Chiefly, this occurred because of a migration from rural areas to accommodate the need for a non-seasonal work force. The Manches- ter-Salford region quadrupled in size during this period. The industrial centers of Liverpool, Birmingham, Leeds, and Sheffield showed similar population increases. Ryan was well aware of this changing demographic and conducted his routing to take full advantage of it. His territory encompassed these major cities and the surrounding industrial communities.

Monday, August 1. [They arrived at Hull, where they saw old Cooke and James Cooke, who were building a circus. Further details of their journey are uninteresting to the general reader until he chronicles their arrival at Leeds.]

So here I am at my birthplace. Passed up Kirkgate. Saw the sign of the Golden Cock, next door to which I was born. What a change! Twenty-five years ago I was running over this ground in petticoats. Now I am strutting over it with high-heeled boots and a pearl handled cane.

Arrived at Halifax at seven p.m. After supper went to the circus and reported to Ryan, the manager, a thick-set man, who squints, but appears to be clever. Witnessed the performances, which were good and of quite a variety, a Mr. Powell being the best rider---tolerable. 96 Finished with a pantomime in which the celebrated Dick Usher played Clown very good. 97

Our travelers had sailed up the Suffock and Norfolk coastline, through the waters of the North Sea, into the mouth of the Humber River, which formed an inlet bay at Hull. They then traveled on to Leeds, some fifty or sixty miles west along the Aire River, an off-shoot of the Humber. From Leeds, Halifax was a short distance to the south and west.

James Ryan (1799-1875) was proprietor of one of the best circuses in England for many years. Throughout his career he erected amphitheatres in Bristol, Sheffield, and Birmingham, the latter city being his stronghold. He eventually went broke there in an attempt to create a new, brick building for his circus performances. As a manager, he had a reputation of being kind to his employees. Credited as one of the cleverest tightrope dancers in the world, he was also an accomplished rider, and tumbler. Ryan’s squinting was caused by his having only one eye. 98 There were several Powells in the circus business but the one mentioned above has to be William MacDonnell Powell (1816-1900) who had been performing with Batty’s company in Liverpool, Newcastle, Nottingham, and Cork. While a principal equestrian with Ryan in 1837, he married into the Hengler circus family. At this time he was billed as the “First Rider of the Age.” 99 Richard “Dicky” Usher was a native of Liverpool and a popular entertainer there at the Olympic Circus from as early as 1808. A trainer of geese and cats, he was the first clown to use the trick of being pulled down river in a tub by a pair of geese. 100

Friday, (Aug.) 3. Levi practiced vaulting. Did thirty-four, rather astonishing them, being the most they had ever seen.

Saturday, 4. Levi practiced. Did thirty-seven, which astonished them still more.

Monday, 6. [Blackburn and North made their first appearance in Ryan’s company, and the historian writes:] Levi did thirty-six. Had a fine horse and he received great applause.

[This ends Log No. 6. Log. No. 7 begins.]

Wednesday, August 8. Had a good house, the parson of the parish and family being a part of the audience. One thing I forgot to mention, which I have notice in all companies: the box officers and door-keepers in Ryan’s establishment are women, composed of the manager’s wife and the wives of the performers. Nearly all the performers are married. There are no less than fifty-two children living, belonging to members of this company. It is invariably the same with theatricals and equestrians. Each will have a wife to support on small salaries, which generally vary from one to two pounds per week.

Friday, 10. Old Dick Usher’s benefit, very full house. Pleased with one of his gags, being drawn in a carriage by four real cats. It was very funny.

Monday, 13. [David, the colored man referred to as living at Cony’s in London, was now keeping house for Blackburn and North.] Negroes are a great curiosity in Yorkshire. Our boy David went out to see a party of gypsies out of town. On his arrival at their encampment, other persons of the same view turned to looking at him, he being the greater curiosity; which so annoyed him that he shortly bent his steps homeward, the whole crowd following, many of whom took him to be North, the great American vaulter, as most of the people here think all Americans are black. At the circus, Mr. Ryan did a new scene on three horses, called “The Woodcutter,“ which was truly wonderful. 101

Wednesday, 15. Arranged with Ryan to remain six months. Night at circus, a beautiful entry done, called “The Captive Bride.”

Friday, 17. Two letters from America, one from Sam Phillips and one from Charley Rogers. Read them over two or three times before the performance.

Sunday, 19. David learning to sing “Jim Crow,” to sing at Rivers’ benefit, Thursday next. He is announced as the real American (Niggers are getting ripe.).

Sam Phillips was ringmaster with Brown’s circus, 1834-36, and was a member of the 1838 Bacon & Derious company. Charley Rogers, of course, was the Charles J. Rogers of Spalding & Rogers fame.

Dick Rivers was the patriarch of a circus family of riders, tumblers and posturers, whose performing sons included Frank, Charles, Richard, Luke and Frederick, all of whom became prominent in the American arenas.

See by London and Leeds papers that my friend John Reilly of Cincinnati has had twenty-four chickens hatched by one hen. This is a long way for such news to come---nearly four thousand miles.

Wednesday, 22. Rivers parading the streets with a large stone he is to break on his breast tonight for his benefit. What gags! And the people stand it. Measured for a suit of clothes; did not like buttons with a crown on them---too democratic. North did forty; received six rounds of applause. The big stone got hissed. Daves “Jim Crow” was a perfect failure.

Thursday, 23. Made our bill for North’s benefit; put him in vaulting clogs. Received a letter from Ben Stickney, which he speaks of the arrival of VanAmburgh in London, also that Price had done forty in practice and thirty-nine in public.

VanAmburgh sailed for London on the Pennsylvania, leaving New York City, July 7, 1838. He first appeared at Astley’s Amphitheatre, and later at Drury Lane and the principal cities of Europe. In January of 1839, the Queen visited the Drury Lane Theatre to witness VanAmburgh’s performance. It so pleased her that she commissioned Sir Edwin Landseer to paint a picture of him with his lions, which was put on exhibition that same year. 102 While abroad, dramas were written for him and were produced with success. He made several tours through the provinces of England, Ireland, Scotland and Wales with a traveling menagerie, introducing the American style of tenting to Great Britain. In 1845, after seven years overseas, he returned to the United States.

VanAmburgh was at Astley’s Amphitheatre shortly after he first arrived in England. Bell’s Life in London of August 26, 1838, carried a description of a performance with his cats which reveals the state of wild beast taming at that time. Two immense wooden cages were placed on the stage. Young VanAmburgh, dressed in a plain white jacket, entered one of them in which were a lion, a lioness, a Bengal tiger, and tree leopards. He proceeded to fondle the animals in a show of friendship between man and beast. Going a few steps further, he pried open the mouth of the lion with his hands, made him present his paw and ended by riding on the animal’s back. He was equally familiar with the lioness and the tiger. The leopards were more exuberant. They jumped around and upon him in a playful manner, one alighting on his head and shoulders, and others leaping over his arm as he extended it outward. He gave commands by a motion of his fingers and teased them with a small whip. They seemed in perfect subjection, offering no resistance. He next entered the second cage, in which there was another lion, lioness and two leopards. This lion showed great fear by sidling into a corner and remaining there until he was driven out by means of a whip. Just as in the first cage, the other animals were commanded to jump on and about him; after which, the lion was placed in a prone position while VanAmburgh reposed on his shaggy mane. This was followed by the tamer placing his head in the ani- mal’s mouth. Finally, for what seems to have been the closing effect, VanAmburgh brought a lamb into the cage; the cats showed not the slightest disposition to attack the woolly creature. With this bit of biblical enactment, the entire display of the mastery of man over beasts was successfully concluded.

Thursday, 30. Heavy thunder storm, of course, being our benefit. Had thirty-four pounds, two shillings, a good house for the fag end of the season. North rode his principal and Indian act, which pleased well. Also did twenty somersaults in clogs, thirty-six without. I played clown to his acts with great success.

[Our friends’ next journey was a flying trip by coach and rail to Liverpool; where, it is recorded, they:] Called on Jim Ward, the boxer; also Phil Sampson, noted in the prize ring. 103

[The next day they:] Called on Langham, the boxer who fought Spring.

It was usual at this time of undeveloped railroad systems for the traveler to share the facilities of both stage and rail to arrived at a given destination. Blackburn probably used the Liverpool and Manchester Railway. This line was opened for the first time on September 15, 1830. By 1836 it was carrying 450,000 passengers a year. Although there was great progress in rail development, none of the lines in the country were fully completed.

In addition to rail building, advancement in motive power was being achieved. For example, the North Star, a locomotive constructed for the Great Western Railway Company, was said to run fifty miles an hour when pulling a fifty ton cargo (eighty with only the tender attached).

Tom Spring’s real name was Winter. It was said that he changed his name to conform to his mild and cheerful disposition. Not a slugger, he won his bouts through his sparring ability. He was designated champion on the retirement of Tom Cribb; after which, he was challenged by the Irish champion, John Langham. Spring, at 190 pounds, defeated Langham, 176 pounds, for the English heavyweight title in 1824. The fight took place in a turf ring at the Worcester race course, where more than thirty thousand spectators were in attendance. After sev- enty-seven rounds, two hours and twenty-nine minutes, Langham failed to get up in the allotted time, giving Spring the victory. A rematch was scheduled. This time the fight was more evenly conducted, with the advantage shifting back and forth for seventy-six rounds, until Langham was forced to give in. Spring retired after this win, opened an inn, and continued to prosper. Langham’s popularity with his Irish followers was so great that even in defeat he was acclaimed. 104

[Log No. 8 begins.]

Monday, September 3. Went to Jim Wards. Saw Bell’s Life and found that Price had challenged North to vault for one hundred pounds.

Price’s letter was published in the Bell’s Life in London of September 2: 105

VAULTING CHALLENGE.
TO THE EDITOR OF BELL’S LIFE IN LONDON.
     Sir - Observing in a provincial newspaper (Halifax) a challenge from Mr. North, late of Astley’s Theatre, to any person in the world, to throw the greatest number of somersets for £5,000, I have only to say, that, unless that gentleman has turned potato merchant, and means 500 lbs., the sum is too great for myself to raise, and I may also presume for him too; but if £100 are in his eyes worth contending for, I will myself compete with him for the last named sum, to throw the greatest number of somersets for six successive nights (or days), to have three attempts each night or day, as may be hereafter agreed, the person throwing the greatest number of somersets at the end of the week to be declared the winner. Should so humble an individual as myself, and the sum I have named be worthy his attention, I am ready at a day’s notice to contend with him; the conditions of the wager can be settled between us, and if Mr. North chooses to come to London to decide it I will pay half his expenses. To show I am in earnest, £25 of my money I have deposited in the hands of our worthy treasurer, Mr. Foster, and the rest is forthcoming at any time or place. I remain, Sir, your obedient servant,
Thomas Price
Vaulter at Astley’s Theatre, Aug. 31, 1838

[They rejoined Ryan’s company in Ashton in time for the night’s perform- ance.] 106

Tuesday, 4. Answered Price’s challenge. Thursday, 6. Little Dick Rivers, practicing, put his elbow out.

Tuesday, 11. Received lots of news from America; letters from Sam Phillips, John Gossin and Alex Downie. Also received a Baltimore paper, with one of my letters published. I little thought that the climate of England would make me a literary man.

Wednesday, 12. A small package arrived; supposed to be a large playbill and some papers sent by Alex Downie. Did not take it in. Postage too high---only three pounds, 3s. 2d., about fifteen dollars. North, vaulting, did forty-five. This is the fourth time he has done this number, twice in America and twice in England.

Thursday, 13. A very full house on account of being patronized by the Earl of Stamford. Get the bigwigs to come in this country and you are sure of a big house.

Friday, 14. Received letter from Ben Stickney. Says Price is backing out. Charley Rivers did two somersaults first time. 101

Tuesday, 18. Levi received letter from Price, saying that he could not stick to his last Sunday’s challenge in Bell’s Life, hoping Levi would not notice it. I answered it, but did not answer his letter.

Monday, 24. Went to Duckfield Wakes, which is their annual feast, a fair on a small scale.

Wakes, which assumed the identity of fairs, originated from the annual celebrations of the church’s consecration or from the feast day of the saint in whose name the church was dedicated. Gradually, the religious aspect of the festivals diminished, replaced by more secular events, affording hard working men and women an opportunity to vent their need for merry-making and revelry. 108

There were two shows. Visited the theatre, which had over the front, “Williamson’s Pantomimic and Dramatic Theatre.” Paid one penny a piece, and was ushered into this temple of the Muses. We saw a tragedy in two acts---only three persons to play it, comic song, and pantomime. All finished in ten minutes. We were shown out the back door. And fun commenced again outside: clown told a story, the heavy-tragedy man was beating the bass drum, while Lady Macbeth was dancing a straight four with three others. Close beside the theatre was another exhibition of less pretensions; it was the painting of some murder, as natural as life. All to be seen for one halfpenny. They also had their outside parade: an old woman showed some tricks of sleight-of-hand, such as the egg bag, and a little boy sang “All ‘Round My Hat,” accompanied by an old man on the pandean pipes and bass drum.

Tuesday, (Oct.) 2. Played under the patronage of Lord Wilton, who did not come. Good house.

Wednesday, 3. Parrish’s company of theatricals arrived.

Thursday, 4. The actors erecting their booth next to our circus.

Friday, 5. The actors, playing for threepence only for admission, had about one pound in. Played “Dumb Wife of Manchester“ and “Sudden Thoughts.” Playing better than any concern of the kind I have yet seen. The establishment, inside and out, very neat, and larger than Richardson’s famous booth.

Saturday, 6. Saw a funny dance at the theatre by two persons dressed as soldiers in front and sailors behind, with masks on the back of their heads. After dancing a while as soldiers, they turn and finish with a hornpipe. This had a good effect.

Monday, 22. North did forty-six, the most he has ever done before an audience.

Tuesday, 23. During the performance we were astonished by the appearance in front of Price, the vaulter, accompanied by Hughes, the rider. Levi and myself met them after the performance at the Ashton and spent an agreeable evening.

Wednesday, 24. At eleven a.m., met Price again. Said he had come to make the match. Levi told him that all he had to do was to back up his money. This he would not accede to without making new arrangements. Levi said he could have nothing to do with him except in the way agreed on in Bell’s Life. So Price backed entirely out of all he had stated through that paper, and Levi left him. He got very wrathy after Levi left, saying that he had not backed out and that he could beat any damned Yankee that could ever come over the Atlantic. I told him that I intended to bring two or three little boys next summer from America that would leave him far behind. Wasn’t he mad? Threatened to pull my long nose; but that was after I left. He cleared out about three p.m., disgusted with himself and everyone else.

Sunday, (Nov.) 4. Dropped in at the Commercial---fat landlord, fat brother, fat mother, fat sister, two uncomfortably fat dogs, and a fat cat. Took two glasses of ale and leaned for home. At three p.m. bade farewell to the good town of Ashton and took passage for Manchester. Put up at the Concert Tavern, next door to the Queen’s Theatre, kept by one Thompson---a clever fellow and keeps a good house. The evening was spent very comfortably in Thompson’s parlor. Among the company was Tom Oliver, a man of much notoriety in the prize ring, a fine looking old chap with whiskers silver-white.

Tom Oliver was one of the long list of pugilists defeated by Spring. In an earlier fight with Ned Painter in 1814, which lasted only four minutes and a half, Oliver was the victor. English boxing writer, Pierce Egan, described the fray with these colorful words: 109

Such a complete determined milling round is not to be met with in the Annals of Pugilism, and there was more execution done in it than in many fights of an hour’s length. It was enough to finish any two men.... They were both punished in the extreme, and Painter was quite blind, and his nose beat flat upon his face. Oliver’s body was terribly beaten, his head much disfigured, and one of his eyes nearly closed.

[They took coach for Bradford the next morning, where they opened “to a crowded house.”] 110

Thursday, 8. [He jumped on the Leeds coach and visited that city. A fair was going on, and Wombwell’s Menagerie was on exhibition. Of the latter he writes:] Went into Wombwell’s wild beast show. A very good collection, but I have seen better. They are not what Englishmen represent them to be in America. The elephant wagon is the greatest curiosity, containing three elephants---one tolerable-sized one, and two small ones. The wagon is twenty-two feet long, ten feet wide, and eighteen in height. Runs on six wheels, each seventeen inches wide. All the cages were large, the band good, but the men were the worse lot of loafers I have seen attached to any exhibition. The admission was one shilling. Went into another smaller exhibition of animals for one penny. t had about eight cages.

George Wombwell (1777-1850) was the first great traveling menagerie proprietor. His entry into the menagerie business began in 1805 with the purchase of a pair of huge boa constrictors. With them he organized a caravan and began his tours of England. In 1825 Wombwell stirred up public indignation, not to mention vigorous publicity for his establishment, by baiting two lions, one at a time, with several large dogs. One of the lions was so tame that he merely fended the canine aggressors off. The other, a more savage animal, quickly maimed them so ferociously they had to be dragged through the bars of the cage. 111

Monday, 12. Arrived at Sheffield. 112 [The next day he received a visit from his uncle John.] A fine old man of sixty-seven, in knee breeches and gaiters; much pleased to see me; drinks gin and keeps cows. [Mr. Blackburn seems to have taken a vacation, for on the 4th he:] Took a coach for Leeds. In the evening visited the theatre, next door to the Elephant and Castle. Saw “The Merchant of Venice.” Mr. Creswick as Shylock tolerable.

William Creswick (b. 1813) made his debut in 1831. Shortly thereafter, he emigrated to America and successfully performed in both the United States and Canada. He then returned to England and was well received by the English audiences. According to Ireland, his acting was “marked by great earnestness and entire regardlessness of the traditions and conventionalities of the profession.” 113 Eventually, he became the manager of the Surrey Theatre, London.

Monday, 19. [He appeared with Ryan.]

Saturday, December 1. Batty, the manager, in front. Levi gave him fortyfour somersaults. Met him after the performance. He looks a good deal like my old manager, Ben Brown; 114 but he does not possess half so much good sense, having too much low blackguardism in his composition.

Sunday, 2. Goose for dinner. Just as we had commenced operating on it, who should drop in but our old friends Cony and Blanchard; who had come from Wakefield where they open tomorrow.

Saturday, 8. Shows of all description begin to flock into town. Batty’s wild beast show commenced operations by the side of our place.

Sunday, 9. Ten a.m., took a gig and drove out to Wakefield to see Cony and Blanchard. Spent a very pleasant day with them. Left for home at four p.m. Had not got more than six miles on our journey before we struck a pile of stones. Horses and gig upset in the ditch, Levi standing on his head in the mud, I walking on my hands in the road, surrounded by yokels.

Tuesday, 11. Got letter from Cooke at Nottingham in relation to a letter published in Baltimore concerning him. Answered it.

In a letter to a friend in Cincinnati, Blackburn had written that old Cooke was bitter about Americans, claiming they had burned him out in Baltimore out of jealousy, and that they had also tried to burn his property twice afterwards. 115 Cooke seems to have heard about Blackburn’s correspondence.

[The record of the week ending Saturday, 16, is:] 116 Thin business on account of the opposition of Wombwell’s show.

Monday, December 17. The following list of Wombwell’s show was given me by Sam Berry: George Wombwell, proprietor; eleven carriages containing beasts, one carriage or house for family, one stage or platform wagon, one band wagon, forty-four horses, thirty men, one hundred and eighty animals; large carriage containing elephants, weighing upwards of seventeen tons, drawn by twelve horses.

Thursday, 20. North’s benefit; rode six horses for the first time, well; vaulting thirty-seven, and in clogs eighteen; all to a damned bad house of nineteen pounds.

[Blackburn again visits Leeds and mentions particularly the children of a relative knocking at his door on a Christmas morning and singing: “I wish you a merry Christmas, happy New Year, pockets full of money, belly full of cheer.” He rejoined North on December 26th and reappeared.] Thursday, 27. Went with Dick Rivers as far as savings bank, where he deposited twenty pounds, a wonderful thing for an actor to do.

Saturday, 29. Only tolerable business at night, this being only an experimental night---Ryan never being in the habit of performing on Saturday night before in this place. People here prefer drinking, etc., on this night.

Monday, 31. Randal treated me the first time! Make a long chalk.

Tuesday, (Jan.) 15. North received a Glengary cup from Batty.

Saturday, 26. Dinner given to part of the company at Greggs’, Hammer Lane. Champion of the lightweights was there, a very civil young man, twenty-two years of age. Has won eighteen fights.

Thursday, 31. Patronized by Prince Louis Napoleon Bonaparte. Good house. The prince, a good looking young man of about thirty, with mustache. North did thirty-nine, the prince applauding greatly both his vaulting and his riding.

Friday, February 1. North met with an adventure this morning. In returning from an excursion in the country, his carriage was stopped by a man, the door was opened, and his cane was seized. In his attempt to wrest it from Levi’s hands, the naked sword came out; upon the sight of which the cove decamped.

Monday, 4. Harper, the Negro singer arrived to commence an engagement of one week. Was very successful the first night. Sings well. Levi did his new scene, “The Morning and Evening Star.”

Sunday, 10. My birthday, twenty-nine years old.

Tuesday, 12. Six o’clock a.m., took post chaise for the purpose of seeing the fight between Burke and Bendigo. Passed through Yarmouth sixteen miles. Went eight miles to Appleby House. Here found many people congregated. Followed the crowd to the scene of action, to the right of Appleby House about six miles. There were thousands of people on the grounds previous to our arrival, which was at one o’clock p.m. The ring was already formed. After a tedious wait, the fight com-menced at two p.m. and lasted only twenty-four minutes. It terminated in favor of Bendigo after eleven rounds, Burke butting in the last, which was against the new rules. Neither of the men hurt. Got home, after traveling sixty miles to see a bad fight.

“Deaf” Burke returned to England in 1838. That year the Broughton’s Rules, which had been in use for nearly one hundred years, was replaced with the London Prize Ring Rules. The Burke/Bendigo contest was the first to be conducted under these new guidelines. After winning this fight with Burke, Bendigo, whose real name was William Thompson, suffered an injury to his knee and was forced to retire from the ring. On losing, Burke passed into oblivion, except for the attention of Joe Blackburn. 117

[Blackburn has now “laid off” for several days on account of a cold.]

Friday, 22. I went to the theatre. Mrs. Honey sang “Zurich’s Waters” and “Beautiful Rhine” charmingly, better than I ever heard before.

Sunday, (Mar.) 3. Received letter from Charles J. Rogers, Cincinnati. One month coming.

Monday 11. Received news of Price doing fifty somersaults at Glasgow. At night North did forty-eight, most he has done yet before an audience.

Saturday, 16. Went to theatre. Saw young Pablo Fanque on the tight rope, attended by his daddy, a Negro.

William Darby (1796-1871) was an equestrian, acrobat, and rope-walker, who later became a circus proprietor. After being orphaned at an early age, he became apprenticed to William Batty. His early billing was as “Young Darby,” but he adopted the name “Pablo Fanque“ sometime in the 1830s. He went into management in 1841 and continued until his death. 118

Wednesday, 20. North did fifty.

Friday, 29. This being Good Friday, no play at the circus. A public dinner was given to Levi at the Warwick Arms for the purpose of presenting him with a medal; which was done by old Dick Rivers, the stage manager, in the presence of fifty gentlemen, mostly the citizens of Birmingham. Rivers made a very appropriate speech, which was answered by Levi. The medal is a beautiful one costing twenty pounds.

Saturday, 30. End of the engagement with Ryan. Hicken, the first English horseman, refused to subscribe to North’s medal. O Crickey!

Monday, April 1. Opened in the Amphitheatre, Liverpool, under the management of Bates.

Bates must have been managing for Batty. While with Batty’s circus in Henley, North accomplished his greatest feat when he became the first rider to turn a somersault while on the back of a running horse. He repeated the feat in the United States at the Bowery Theatre in 1840 while with Welch & Bartlett’s Circus.

Monday, 15. Visited the Theatre Royal. Heard Braham sing “The Death of Nelson,” “A Man’s a Man for a’ That,” and some others. Don’t think much of him.

The performer at the Theatre Royal was probably John Braham, the most renowned of English vocalists. He had made large sums of money and lived in princely style, but bad speculation in 1835 severely reduced his savings. At this time, 1839, he was sixty-seven years old; but, indeed, he still performed into his eighties. Of his appearance at the Park Theatre, New York City, in 1840, Ireland observed, “As an actor, he was tame and insipid, and his age and diminutive appearance (being only five feet three inches in height) were serious drawbacks on his powers of attraction....” 119 Chalk up another one for Blackburn. It is possible, however, that the singer was Braham’s son, Augustus, who was performing at this time as well.

Friday, 19. VanAmburgh called to see me. He opens at the Theatre Royal next week. Mr. Smith came with him. He is connected with the business.

[On Monday, 22, Blackburn, Ben Stickney and wife and child sailed for America on board the Hibernia, Captain Cobb. Prior to his departure from Liverpool, the entries in the diary indicate failing health; and he writes in one instance:] Put a plaster on my chest; this climate does not agree with me.

[The last entry is at sea; but evidently he is not in his usual spirits, for the diary of the homeward voyage lacks the humor of the outward sail. It chronicles but few events---two or three rows in the steerage, and a mention of assisting Captain Cobb in the preparation of a code of rules for the government of the steerage passengers. A letter from Blackburn in Baltimore to North in Liverpool, under the date of Baltimore, July 3, Blackburn writes his “Dear Levi” in excellent spirits. He speaks of having arrived in New York after a pleasant voyage of thirty days. Alas! Dave, the colored man, and quite likely the first of his race who ever appeared in minstrel song and dance in England, on his return to America, fell from grace.] “I left Dave in New York and did not see him after landing, although I remained one week. He brought my trunk up to Tom Grundy’s, and that was the last I saw of him. When I looked in my trunk, I found myself minus all my shirts except three. I lay that to his English education. * * * Believe me, there is no place like home. Remember me to all the folks that side of the pond that I know, except Price. He is the only man I hate in the world, and him I thoroughly hate.” [After gossip about mutual acquaintances all over the country, he concludes with a fervent, “God bless you!”]

Epilogue

Fire, the dreaded nemesis of nineteenth century theatre owners and an unwanted burden on the already tenuous financial operation of theatricals, appears to have followed in the wake of the travelers within our diary. The Mobile theatre was burned to the ground in the early morning hours of November 20, 1838. Supposedly, the cause was from fireworks used in the blowing up of a mill in the performance of “The Miller and His Men,” (a melodrama by Isaac Pocock) the previous night. Ludlow, who was the lessee, was uninsured. He lost his entire stock of scenery, wardrobe, music and books. The Charleston Theatre was razed on April 27, 1838, a month following Blackburn’s departure from that city. Starting in some out-building on the corner of King and Beresford Streets, the flames spread from one structure to another, destroying the market, the Universalist Church, the theatre, and nearly a thousand houses, with great loss of life. New York’s National Theatre burned on the afternoon of September 23, 1839, the work of an arsonist. The owners were partially insured, but James Wallack, the lessee, lost all his stage properties and theatrical paraphernalia. The Bowery Theatre, which had burned on February 18, 1838, was again demolished on April 25, 1845. The fire originated in the carpenter shop, spread to the gas house, and finally to the theatre. Nothing was saved. The bursting of a camphene lamp set the old National Theatre in Washington ablaze on the evening of March 5, 1845. The conflagration started in an out-building where lamps were trimmed during a performance of the fairy burletta, “Beauty and the Beast.” The theatre was cleared in an orderly fashion, with no injury or loss of life.

What became of the English managers with whom Blackburn and North were connected? On June 8, 1841, Astley’s Theatre was destroyed by fire, creating a loss of £20,000. This was a severe blow to Ducrow, who collapsed under the strain. Weakened in body and mind, he died on January 27, 1842. After the fire, William Batty brought his company to London and opened at the converted National Baths, in Westminster Bridge Road. He took over the lease on the new Astley’s Amphitheatre in 1843, after the break-up of Ducrow’s troupe, but, as fortune would have it, the building burned down again. While another structure was being designed and built, he returned to the National Baths, where he opened Batty’s Equestrian Arena. Astley’s New Royal Amphitheatre of Arts opened later in 1843, which became the home for Batty’s circus until 1853. Batty died on February 7, 1868; after which, Astley’s was sold to Sanger. 120

James Ryan had erected amphitheatres in Birmingham, Sheffield, Bristol, and other towns, but the construction of a new brick building in Birmingham in 1841 was his downfall. It failed the following year. He continued touring for a while but in 1848 his company was taken over by the bailiffs. Ryan then worked for other proprietors, but in later years became eccentric. He died in Paris in poverty in 1875. 121

It has been stated that, once back in America, Blackburn took to the stage and became a capable low comedian. I have not been able to confirm this. For the next few years, however, he was occupied as equestrian director with the Philadelphia Circus (James Raymond and Noell E. Waring, proprietors) in 1840; equestrian director at the Bowery Amphitheatre, New York City, on April 5, 1841, for a bill made up of featured equestrian stars. He joined the western unit of June, Titus, Angevine & Co. for the tenting season of that year; but in November, was back in New Orleans where arenic performances were being staged at the St. Charles Theatre by manager Caldwell. Quite likely there was a reunion with his friend North at that time, for North appeared there under a week’s contract in mid-December.

Health seems to have been a continuing plague since Blackburn returned to America. Left a “fortune” by a deceased uncle, he was on his way from New Orleans to Baltimore to claim it, when he became sick and died on the Mississippi steamboat, Express Mail, near Horse Shoe Bend. His body was laid to rest in Memphis. Thus ended the career of “Gentleman Joe,” clown and author of these logs. The following item from a Memphis newspaper explains the funeral rite at his grave: 122

     The respective companies met according to previous notice, for the purpose of paying that respect due to the worth and talents of the late Joseph Blackburn. The procession then formed in front of the Commercial Hotel, Messrs. Garson and Claveau taking the lead. Then followed the New Orleans band, drawn in a car by six horses, followed by the New York band, drawn by six horses. The rear was brought up by the performers, citizens, etc., on horseback, bearing the usual badge of mourning on the left arm. The procession then proceeded to the burial ground, where it formed in a circle around the grave of the deceased: the bands played a dirge suited to the occasion; each member took the badge from his arm and placed it as a tribute of respect upon the grave of their departed friend. Mr. Garson and Mr. Herbert made neat and appropriate addresses on the occasion, after which the procession returned to the city.

North had returned to the United States in the fall of 1840. In January of 1841 he opened a sixteen week engagement with Welch, Bartlett & Co. at the Bowery Theatre under the management of Thomas Hamblin; during which time his trophies from the tour of England, the gold medal from Ryan’s company and a silver and gold snuff box from Batty’s, were put on display at the Branch Coffee House, a resort of actors and equestrians. The snuff box had the following in- scription: 123

     This box was given as a mark of esteem and merit to Mr. North by Mr. Batty’s Equestrian Company (presented by Mr. Hughes, acting manager), for the unparalleled feat of throwing 55 somersaults at one trial, at a morning performance at the Royal Leamington Spa, July 22, 1839, before Lord Dillion, Lord Manners, Countess Belgrave, Lady Paget, Marchioness of Devonshire and other ladies and gentlemen of rank and fashion.

Later, the snuff box was defaced and nearly lost in the great Chicago fire.

In the spring of 1841, North went to the West Indies for an engagement with Rufus Welch. However, on arriving in Matanzas, he found that Welch had sold his interest in the circus. His tenure with the new management developed irreconcilable differences and prompted an early mid-summer return to the mainland. He then joined “Pony” Bartlett in Baltimore, who was shortly bought out by Welch. In the fall, North went to New Orleans for an engagement with S. P. Stickney at the St. Charles Theatre. This was followed by a visit to Cuba with Sol Smith’s organization. But, again, North’s south-of-the-border venture proved to be unfortunate. Smith’s speculation encountered competition with the Lenten season and the “red hot” danseuse, Fannie Ellsler, whose American tour was proving an immense success. So North went back to the comfort of Welch’s welcoming arms in Baltimore. 124

Ironically, in the spring of 1843, the two old rivals, Price and North, joined in the proprietorship of an English circus. Following the somersaultthrowing contests at Astley’s and North’s departure from the British Isles, Price joined Ryan’s company. He left it in 1841 to form his own show with William Powell, Price & Powell’s Royal Circus, which toured southern England until the partnership broke up in 1843.

North went back to England in the spring of 1842. The purpose of the trip was to visit Miss Sophia West, the daughter of James West. An American trotting horse and a light buggy, which North had brought with him, were objects of curiosity to the Britishers - the horse on account of its speed and the vehicle for its frail construction. Within a short time, the long sea voyage proved fruitful. North drove his horse and buggy from Liverpool to Exeter, Devonshire, where Miss West and the American equestrian were married. Coincidentally, VanAmburgh was performing with his cats in the city at the time. 125

In order to provide for his bride, North joined the American Company, managed by Titus, June & Sands, in Liverpool. He later appeared the London Opera House. And, then, in the spring of 1843, he combined with Price to put Price & North’s Circus on the road. But, within the year, he left the circus in charge of Price and returned to the United States where he opened with Rockwell & Stone at Niblo’s Garden. In the spring of 1844, he rejoined his partner in England until fall when he disposed of his interest in the show and reappeared with the American Company at the Theatre Royal, Liverpool. He was a member of Henri Fran- coni’s Parisian company at the Champs Élysée, when on June 21, 1845, he appeared by royal command before King Louis of France, and the royal household, performing in the private riding school of that monarch. 126 At the end of five months he returned to the United States and was connected with the following managements: Rufus Welch, Philadelphia; Rockwell & Stone, summer 1846; John Tryon, Bowery Amphitheatre, winter 1846-47; Welch, 1847; Jones, Stickney & North, 1848; Stokes, 1849; Dan Rice, 1849-1851.

He began his own management cycle by leasing the Bowery Amphitheatre in the summer of 1851, and in the winter of 1852 conducting a circus in a riding school in Williamsburg. In 1853, North & Turner (Harry J. Turner) ran a canal boat show. In the winter season of 1853 and 1854, North leased the National Amphitheatre, Philadelphia. During the season of 1855, North & Turner traveled by wagon, and in the winter appeared in a circus which they had built in Chicago. In 1856 North erected an amphitheatre on the site of the circus. During the tenting season he turned it into a theatre where leading stars of the profession performed. Turner died during this winter, willing everything to his partner and friend. In 1857 Mr. North was elected an Alderman of Chicago, and served his term of office. In 1858-59 North’s National Circus was on the road. During the summer of 1860 he ran a canal boat show and in the winter played a star engagement with Spalding & Rogers at the Bowery Theatre, New York. With a war between the states eminent in 1861, North traveled in Canada with Alexander Robinson’s circus. In 1863 he associated himself with the late William Lake and Hod Norton, eventually disposing of his interests to his partners. The following year, he traveled with Haight & DeHaven.

A New York critic wrote of his artistry astride a horse: 127

     What Fanny Ellsler or Taglioni is to the ballet, North is to equestrian performances. It is not the mere execution of a number of difficult steps that can make a premiere danseuse, nor is it a number of extraordinary feats on horseback that can make the most finished rider. North, like the dancers we mention, has “caught a grace beyond the reach of art.” There is a mind in almost all he does. In stature he is rather under the middle size, but well proportioned. His face is handsome and intellectual. He will be admired by everybody, but especially by the ladies. He is what Ducrow was in his prime—without exception, the most graceful and accomplished rider of the day. There are none that we have seen who can approach him.

Another scribe was quite as enthusiastic in the expression of his opinion: 128

     There have been men of all ages of peculiar greatness, among all professions. Garrick, Betterton, Cook, Quinn, Kemble and Kean stood first in the drama. Thousands of females have equally excelled in the “fantastic toe” - but comparatively few have ever been what may be termed the “most brilliant performer in horsemanship.” Mr. North stands out in bold relief of the Ring, as did Kemble of the Stage, and far excels Fanny Ellsler in his graceful motions. We doubt exceedingly whether there is a single individual can compete with Mr. North either in the beauty or in the variety of his performances

Lewis B. Lent took over the management of the Hippotheatron in November, 1865, changing the name of the arena to L. B. Lent’s New York Circus. At the age of fifty-two, North made an appearance in his great specialty of the Sprite in the fairy equestrian spectacle of the “Sprites of the Silver Shower,” for eight weeks, astonishing his many admirers by the evident retention of the powers of his younger days. This same year, Metcalfe & Flanagan’s Olympic opened in St. Louis as a permanently located circus The performances were under the direction of North, which included a double pony act by Levi North, Jr.

Since that time he was principally in retirement. He was a man of g